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maskormenacelogs2017-02-05 09:36 pm
emgoldened) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-02-05 09:36 pm
you'll no longer fear when your heart's turned to gold
WHO: Viserys Targaryen and YOU
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Month of February
WHAT: Stuff and things - first meetings, reunions, you name it
WARNINGS: Well his canon is what it is and Viserys is harsh to women, especially verbally...will update if there needs to be more here!
NONAH 006;
So. He's definitely dead. He's also not quite sure what sort of beyond this entire set up is. It's...nothing he'd ever been told, or been hinted it, or even imagined. The world was completely different. His ancestors were not sitting atop bejeweled thrones waiting to welcome him into their arms and tell him the future of their name. No comfort for his end, for his sister becoming a kinslayer. No reassurance. No horses, either, no sun, no dirt, no savages...something far more confusing and stranger and awaited, and for once in recent years? Viserys was rather cooperative and quiet. A magical feat to be sure, for when he was taken to his new "home" (ha-ha-ha) and began to find his footing, even a little bit, that shock slid down into his belly to join the rest of his nicely marinated bitterness. He'd be back in regular form sooner rather than later. He wasn't about to change out of his rotting clothes, which would help, tattered once-black top with a three-headed red dragon being the most notable thing on him.
He had managed to find the place while empty. That won't last forever. And his new roommates can come across him in a variety of ways. Perhaps he's turned the water faucet off and on in the kitchen, staring at it in an angry sort of confusion. Perhaps he's doing the same...in a bathroom that is not his. Or more invasive still: opening, inspecting, and trying to make sense of hygienic products most men would flee from. Perhaps he's standing in front of the TV with nothing but static on, or a really terrible infomercial about Tupperware, confused but amazed. He may be in the hallway, turning the lights off and on, seemingly offended by their mere existence. Or something else. Anything is possible.
PICK A CITY ANY CITY;
He is...trying. A little. There is some effort happening here that does not at all involve taking off the symbol of his family. So the clothes are a bit tattered and worn, and perhaps a little musty, so what! They are far, far better than anything this world has to offer. But. He is still trying. Trying to make sense of vehicles, and the many people, and places, of dogs and cats, of ice cream and other sweets, of hamburgers and foods he'd never have in the lands he was meant to rule, of the tall buildings, of just about everything there was or was not. So he can be found in quite literally any given situation, either looking grumpy and confused and standing out due to his whole everything, or perhaps causing a scene by nearly getting hit by a car. By offhandedly telling a hot dog vendor his food tastes better than horse meat, and getting some looks for it. Or worse than horse meat! Sky's the limit here, have a ball.
THE MESSIAH IS MY SISTER AIN'T NO KING MAN SHE'S MY QUEEN; CLOSED
And then, in this world of impossibility, he sees an impossibility that is familiar. A shadow hits the ground that he has seen in his dreams only. Looking up, he knows, despite knowing there are no more dragons—not those sort, anyway. From the reactions of those nearby, he also knows he isn't the only one who saw that. Who saw a dragon.
He followed. Like he'd heard the cry of his own child, Viserys kept an eye on wings and one ahead, and ran. Past any city he may have been near, into longer grasses, through shallow waters, it didn't matter. Suddenly he had all the energy and stamina in the world. Who can know the heart of a dragon, if not another dragon?
He worried he'd lost him, until he reached a steep slope. At the bottom of it was, yes, a dragon. A real dragon. So very dark in color, reminding him of a smaller Black Dread, stories and paintings running through his mind more than real fear. He was a Targaryen, he had nothing to fear. He knew. The dragon would know, too. That's how they were in days long past, anyway — surely that would be the same now?
His feet moved slowly, his heart beating just the opposite. Only when the dragon turned and noticed him did Viserys stop. Dead in his tracks, open-mouthed, in awe, hair and eyes a very very familiar shade...but the man himself, perhaps not familiar at all. Perhaps not having made the best decision here but still taking another step forward, for once looking every bit as humbled and submissive as he'd demanded of his sister.
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Month of February
WHAT: Stuff and things - first meetings, reunions, you name it
WARNINGS: Well his canon is what it is and Viserys is harsh to women, especially verbally...will update if there needs to be more here!
NONAH 006;
So. He's definitely dead. He's also not quite sure what sort of beyond this entire set up is. It's...nothing he'd ever been told, or been hinted it, or even imagined. The world was completely different. His ancestors were not sitting atop bejeweled thrones waiting to welcome him into their arms and tell him the future of their name. No comfort for his end, for his sister becoming a kinslayer. No reassurance. No horses, either, no sun, no dirt, no savages...something far more confusing and stranger and awaited, and for once in recent years? Viserys was rather cooperative and quiet. A magical feat to be sure, for when he was taken to his new "home" (ha-ha-ha) and began to find his footing, even a little bit, that shock slid down into his belly to join the rest of his nicely marinated bitterness. He'd be back in regular form sooner rather than later. He wasn't about to change out of his rotting clothes, which would help, tattered once-black top with a three-headed red dragon being the most notable thing on him.
He had managed to find the place while empty. That won't last forever. And his new roommates can come across him in a variety of ways. Perhaps he's turned the water faucet off and on in the kitchen, staring at it in an angry sort of confusion. Perhaps he's doing the same...in a bathroom that is not his. Or more invasive still: opening, inspecting, and trying to make sense of hygienic products most men would flee from. Perhaps he's standing in front of the TV with nothing but static on, or a really terrible infomercial about Tupperware, confused but amazed. He may be in the hallway, turning the lights off and on, seemingly offended by their mere existence. Or something else. Anything is possible.
PICK A CITY ANY CITY;
He is...trying. A little. There is some effort happening here that does not at all involve taking off the symbol of his family. So the clothes are a bit tattered and worn, and perhaps a little musty, so what! They are far, far better than anything this world has to offer. But. He is still trying. Trying to make sense of vehicles, and the many people, and places, of dogs and cats, of ice cream and other sweets, of hamburgers and foods he'd never have in the lands he was meant to rule, of the tall buildings, of just about everything there was or was not. So he can be found in quite literally any given situation, either looking grumpy and confused and standing out due to his whole everything, or perhaps causing a scene by nearly getting hit by a car. By offhandedly telling a hot dog vendor his food tastes better than horse meat, and getting some looks for it. Or worse than horse meat! Sky's the limit here, have a ball.
THE MESSIAH IS MY SISTER AIN'T NO KING MAN SHE'S MY QUEEN; CLOSED
And then, in this world of impossibility, he sees an impossibility that is familiar. A shadow hits the ground that he has seen in his dreams only. Looking up, he knows, despite knowing there are no more dragons—not those sort, anyway. From the reactions of those nearby, he also knows he isn't the only one who saw that. Who saw a dragon.
He followed. Like he'd heard the cry of his own child, Viserys kept an eye on wings and one ahead, and ran. Past any city he may have been near, into longer grasses, through shallow waters, it didn't matter. Suddenly he had all the energy and stamina in the world. Who can know the heart of a dragon, if not another dragon?
He worried he'd lost him, until he reached a steep slope. At the bottom of it was, yes, a dragon. A real dragon. So very dark in color, reminding him of a smaller Black Dread, stories and paintings running through his mind more than real fear. He was a Targaryen, he had nothing to fear. He knew. The dragon would know, too. That's how they were in days long past, anyway — surely that would be the same now?
His feet moved slowly, his heart beating just the opposite. Only when the dragon turned and noticed him did Viserys stop. Dead in his tracks, open-mouthed, in awe, hair and eyes a very very familiar shade...but the man himself, perhaps not familiar at all. Perhaps not having made the best decision here but still taking another step forward, for once looking every bit as humbled and submissive as he'd demanded of his sister.
no subject
Viserys does not consider that this man, right now, is behind something capable of causing great harm with little effort. He does not stop to consider this man may be very large and strong and ready to smear this strange ground with anyone who crosses him. No. Viserys only feels a lifetime's worth of Unfairness in a shouting stranger, and without considering anything about this situation, reacts like a foolish young king insulted, storming closer if need be so he can be very kingly about this whole situation.
He slaps Han in the face.
no subject
But along with that shock, as he's reeling back in his seat, comes a deep sense of—well, not rage, more like offense, because: first this guy nearly gets himself hit by a car that should very well be obvious to him, then he's got the nerve to go and slap Han? He's the one at fault here!
The angle's too awkward to be able to punch the guy, as much as Han might like to, but there is a car door between them. So Han unlocks the door and swings it open with all his might, aiming to smack Viserys to the ground.
no subject
Down he goes with a yelp more fitting surprise or injured small dogs. It's a horrible thing to hear out of a human's mouth, really, probably very unexpected. Then there's the thud of him hitting the pavement, louder than one might think a scrawny little brat would be, but he's always been louder than he has a right to.
He begins righting himself, and Han might hear him finally speak, all outrage and bluster:
"You'll pay for that—"
no subject
Then Viserys opens his mouth and says words like you'll pay for that like someone Han knew once upon a time when he was younger and more naïve, and there goes any scraps of pity Han might've been able to scrounge up for him, floating away in the wind. He folds his arms across his chest and looks the guy dead in the eye.
"Yeah?" Two can play at that bluster game, buddy, and Han's been doing this for so long that it's easy to pull it back up, easy to be all bravado and swagger and outraged bluster. "Get in line, pal." The pal has a sardonic edge to it, spit out like venom.
no subject
He pushes himself up with a surprising quickness. That is a position he's familiar with. Waah waah waah.
"You are no pal of mine."
Again, because he has none. It's very sad.
He turns to walk off, but doesn't make it that far. Because he has the idea to slam his fist into the hood of the car. He doesn't leave a huge dent by any means, but a bit of one. Enough it's noticeable. Fuck you, Han Solo!!
no subject
"Who'd want to be?" Han shoots snidely back. He slouches casually against the side of his car, the picture of a cool and collected scoundrel.
It vanishes when Viserys slams his fist into the hood of his car, because what the hell. First of all, the taxi's not even his in the technical sense, and the noticeable dent is going to cost him (along with all the other problems courtesy of Han's power). Second of all, it's his car. It's no Falcon and it's not legally and technically his, but in his heart he has grown attached to this garbage heap.
"You kriffing little—hey!" He charges forward before Viserys can walk right off, in order to grab him by the shoulder and turn him around for an earful. "You know how much getting that fixed costs?!"
no subject
Han spins him around (right round baby right round like a record) and Viserys' face is the height of how dare you. He doesn't whimper or shriek, but he's close to it; he sucks in a great deal of Offended air instead, staring at Han as though he's nothing more than shit on his shoe. This guy just won't quit.
"No, I do not. Nor do I care. This," he gestures to the car while also trying to pretend he isn't two seconds from attempting to run away. "is yours. Not mine."
no subject
"Yeah, but I'm not the one who just dented it, am I?" Never mind that just a while ago he'd used the car door to smack Viserys on his ass. Never mind that one of Han's powers means heavy modification to the taxi. Blondie punched his car, therefore he must pay.
no subject
"And?" Han is up in his space and Viserys side steps, putting barely an inch more between them but maintaining a look of, say, two lions circling each other. Except Viserys is involved so it's more like a lion and one of those rolling ball ferret toys that entertain animals and young children and regularly malfunction. "It is yours. Yours to care for and to keep. It bears dents as signs you've not done either well."
Dent it more and it might become a taxi cab of dragons fierce queen.