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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
"Of course they do. Harrenhal is a special place in my family's history. I had dreams of seeing its towers and land as a child." But then he was exiled, funny story that. One as famously known as the Burning of Harrenhal by anyone worth their salt. He imagines this man, putting Baelish's name further into the fray, would know. He knows he's in the presence of the rightful king, after all. "Mother always said Harrenhal had a curse upon it. Do you believe that? Have you felt it for yourself?"
Smiling and now he sounds rather like that child who dreamed of venturing places as royalty, not as an exiled beggar. Dads just ruin everything.
no subject
Petyr offers a smile. "Truth be told, I have not stepped foot inside of Harrenhal. But considering all who had owned it before me have perished along with their entire family line, I think perhaps it's a good thing. There may be truth to the tales of that curse."
And likely, Petyr would not be the exception to that rule. His fate was sealed once he received the title.
"Since the tragic passing of my wife, my duties have kept me bound to the Eyrie and her son. But I would rather not bore you with such tales. Come, Your Grace. Let us get out of the cold. I have a place nearby where you can get food and drink. I have been in this world for nearly a year, and can help you with anything you need."
no subject
"Nearly a year?" The disbelief is palpable in his voice, but not what he focuses on for long. "Who did you wed?"
Of course he focuses on history, on suffering. They've always been his greatest strengths. But he only asks for her name, not for the tale. It's almost respectful, or something.
no subject
"Lysa Arryn. Formerly Lysa Tully. We grew up together, Lysa and I." A little extra bit of history, but not too much. Likely Viserys doesn't care about the details, just the name. A name that belonged to Jon Arryn. Also someone who had turned against that Targaryens. But all of them are dead and gone now.
Just as Viserys was dead and gone now.
"She leaped from what they call the Moon Door. Have you heard of it? A large door that opens to the jagged rocks of the mountains below." He shakes his head. Such a tragedy.
no subject
Focusing on the door rather than the death is not meant to be dismissive or cruel. Their world contained so much of it, family lines filled with murder, poison, betrayal, being eaten by dragons, set on fire...some may have been more Targaryen-only (or Targaryen-related) deaths than others, but that's how it always had been. Viserys had stewed in rage and desire to horribly mutilate those who wronged him and his. Suicide of a former Tully, former Arryn, barely registered as a true tragedy. Petyr offered the information, too, so he's either gotten over it or never cared in the first place. Women! They've always been so flighty.
Viserys is just excited that someone knows the lands he does and isn't an immediate Threat. Forgive him, Petyr, for being so easy.
no subject
But regardless of the moon door conversation, they're about to approach something else a bit familiar. At least in title. Baelish reaches his Gentleman's Club -- it's sign in bright neon letters. "Welcome to The Iron Throne, Your Grace."
It's said with a hint of amusement as Baelish unlocks the door and opens the strip club for Viserys. It is Most Definitely a brothel from the looks of things.
"It's not quite the same as the one back home, but I'm sure you'll find yourself treated like a king when my girls are at work. Can I get you some wine?"
Baelish asks as he starts up the fire, just to add an additional warmth to the building.