be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls

[draca]

ᴡʜᴏ: Daenerys Targaryen & you!
ᴡʜᴀᴛ: Take a step, don't fall, you're in her world now. Aka; All the ASOIAF people have terrible lives filled with sadness and trauma.
ᴡʜᴇɴ: During the plot.
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: The wonderful trauma filled expanse of her mind.
WARNING FOR BLOOD, DEATH, ASSAULT, NOT FUN OR NICE THINGS, AND SPOILERS FROM A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE.

[ The hallway is long and large, walls of soft marble and floors of polished granite. Pillars adorn each side with cravings etched into their smooth surfaces, cravings of dragons and swords, of flowers and wolves, of the battles of old, and even the intimacies of the flesh.

It continues outwards into a large circular hall and in between the pillar are paintings on the walls, women and men of all different ages, but their all share the coloring of House Targaryen; the silvergold hair and purple eyes that make them unmistakeable. Underneath each painting a bust of each Targaryen, made both of dragon glass for the head and marble for the hair. Something grips your heart as you pass them, a sadness and longing, it is not until you reach the painting and bust of old king and his lady wife that a sadness takes a hold.

This sadness grows as you reach a man of youth and his wife. You linger there, but it is Daenerys herself to steps forward to trace her fingers over the bust of the man. You feel her sadness as if it were your own. Her brother, you think, this the brother she did not know. The brother who fought valiantly, the brother who was kind and loved, the brother who died in the river of the Trident. Beside the woman's bust sits two small cravings of dragon welps being consumed by lions as a wolf stands idly watching impassively, symbols of the slaughter. You may not understand it, but it fills you with grief.

Continuing along you see the portrait of another man, he looks almost Daenerys' age. But if you turn to ask she will not answer, her attention has moved further along the wall. You look over and see her sadly staring at another bust and portrait, the painting appears as if it is melted and the bust nothing more than a copper shape.

But your attention is dragged by to the portrait before you, for some reason you cannot bring yourself to step away. Your feet refuse to move and all around you echoes a voice, a voice of rage, that instills a deep seeded feeling of fear and helplessness. It sends shivers down your spine.

Three archways appear where once was stood the hallway you entered in, the voice gets louder (you have woken the dragon!) as you turn to peer at them.

One leads to a great grass sea, another leads to a flat land cloaked in darkness with a large burning funeral pyre as the only source of light, and the final leads to a grand castle on an island surrounded by ocean.

Urgency grips you, the man's voice is getting louder, you can stay if you want but fear tells you to run. To pick an archway and soon. ]

( ooc; sup sup sections ─ LINGER | DOTHRAKI SEA | FUNERAL PYRE | DRAGONSTONE

the goal is to find the red door, once you find that you will escape her nightmare. )

Comments

[alias_savant]

[Blood is heavy, sticky. It weighs on your clothes and sticks to your skin, and you never really get it off. It's slick and slippery like oil and as Neal runs he can feel it start to dry, tacky against his skin.

He can hear his footsteps echoing on the floor and the smell of death is everywhere, assaulting his senses. He wants to be sick, but fear is overriding his need to be sick at the moment, and he keeps running.]

[draca]

[ The blood and bodies continue, banners of black with a three headed dragon are torn from walls and throw haphazardly across the halls. The man's screams echo heavily against the walls.

A shadow brushes past him, something as small as a cat by with wings, to flies towards the grand hall and lets out a sharp cry. Whatever it is, there is something trustworthy in the sound, something safe.

Whatever it is, it urges him to follow. ]

[alias_savant]

[his eyes track the flying animal, whatever it is, and he follows on instinct. These halls aren't familiar to him -- he'll take whatever advantage he can get.

His dress shoes slide against the blood, but he keeps running, following the sound.]

[draca]

[ The great hall is no different from the hallways that lead him here, if anything it looks worse. A great craved table of Westeros in the time of Aegon the Conquer stands covered in blood and bodies, chairs have been throw skew along side the banners. Without all the blood and death perhaps it would look better, but alas such things will not happen.

The noise belongs to a dragon, with scales of cream and gold. It flies around the hall, wings beating wildly. When it sees Neal it flies towards him, circling him before taking a hold of his sleeve with it's teeth and tugs him on.

This way, this way. It'd say if it could talk. ]

[alias_savant]

[The hall is impressive, with or without blood and Neal only pauses until the dragon tugs at his sleeve, and he turns to follow.

The dragon had gotten him this far, there's no reason he should doubt it now.]

[draca]

[ As they move ghostly shapes appear before them, men clothed in armor and with red cloaks. They have a roaring lion adorned on them and the dragon lets out a hiss.

Anger fills the air, perhaps even Neal too, an anger towards these phantoms. The desire to see them burn. They did this. They did this. They are responsible for this slaughter.

Find them! One orders, he seems more important than the others and they all scatter, kicking down already broken doors in search for something, for someone. ]

[alias_savant]

[Neal doesn't recognize them. He knows that. But he feels the anger all the same, and when they go to leave, he follows. If he can figure out what they're looking for, maybe he can find it first.]

[draca]

[ The cream-and-gold dragon follows after him, hissing at the phantoms some more. They trip apart rooms, kill the phantoms of the dead servants and household.

One in particular, a man larger than any of the others, storms ahead towards the door at the end of the hall and the dragon shrieks. ]

[alias_savant]

[Neal watches the scene unfold, a strong discomfort churning in the pit of his stomach. This felt ... wrong, in every sense of the word.

He glances to the dragon at the shriek, before refocusing his attention on the man who had just come in.]

[draca]

[ He is a giant in comparison to the soldiers, his very presence imposing and threatening. He moves uncaring towards the door, kicking it right off with his foot and moves inside. The dragon shrieks again and flies after him as the wet sounds sound of slaughter fill the air again.

Joined by the crying of children quickly silenced and the cries of a mother. Whatever is happening in there is not pretty, but Neal won't have time to see. The sounds stop and the dragon lets out a sound almost akin to a roar.

A light of gold and red and orange flows out of the room into the hallway, flames attaching themselves to each of the red cloaked phantoms burning them. Burning them all. ]

[alias_savant]

[Neal stumbles backwards at the appearance of the flames, his hands coming up on instinct to protect himself. It's enough to blow away the sickening nausea that he had been feeling while the slaughter had been happening.]