maskormenacelogs | you'll no longer fear when your heart's turned to gold

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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.

Threaded | Flat

Turns out, being able to pilot the fastest ship in the galaxy and being the current record-holder for the best Kessel Run doesn't necessarily translate to being the greatest taxi driver of all time. Han would be a fairly good taxi driver, anyway, if it wasn't for the fact that one of his brand-new abilities essentially means that the taxi he's driving is now just as finicky and sensitive as the Falcon.

He's also been cruising around in it the whole day, only occasionally doing his job, getting a feel for the city. It's in a particularly less crowded spot that he very quietly tries to pull off a stunt that's actually kind of tame, for his sensibilities—right now, he just wants to see what his car is capable of. So he lifts his foot off the pedal, brakes hard, and drifts around the corner.

Okay, so far, so good. He rights the car again and—

—slams hard on the brakes, skidding to a stop. What in the hell? He slams a hand down on the horn, rolls the window down and pokes his head out to take a good look at this guy who's just nearly gotten hit what the hell.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" he yells, irate.

It's late afternoon, he may have already been exploring the house for a few hours, when someone unlocks the door. While Kanaya is busy staying at her phone, Ashiah skitters in first, wandering into the kitchen. So it is that Viserys meets his first housemate, a four-foot-long giant white grub, staring at him with her big black eyes as he plays with the faucet.

She clicks something at him, then turns behind her to click and chatter at the door. Who knows if it's even any kind of language, there's just a fucking huge bug staring at him. "There's strange man doing what?" ask a voice from the other room. Ashiah trills back in response. He's wasting water, mom, you're always telling her not to waste water. How come he gets to?

Soon enough, another figure appears in the doorway, this time an entirely too tall grey woman with short black hair and orange horns. "Uh..." She screws up her lips, furrowing her brows. She has a knife in her purse, but she isn't sure she'll need it. He looks a bit scrawny, if it comes to it. "Are you...supposed to be here?" She really wishes they would receive some form of notification when they've been assigned new roommates. Encountering them for the first time is always so awkward.

It's cold, out here, much colder than Essos seemed like it could ever be, with particular exception to the starving, exhausted nights spent on the Wastes. But this is a different kind of cold, coming in damp and buffeting off the sea, and in the sky, it's colder still. Daenerys is dressed in defense of this climate in her green woollen coat and lambskin gloves, a circle of braiding holding her hair off her face, with the rest allowed to whip and tangle in the wind with flagging silver.

This is what Viserys might see first as she emerges from the shadow of a wing. In contrast to his deliberate and slow approach, she has her hands on Drogon's scaly hide as she inspects old scrapes and punctures, some healed, some lingering just through the use of his own wings. She straightens up, pat-patting Drogon's broad neck, before she follows his gaze.

Her chest tightens, like her heart is being strangled within her. The ghost of her brother, dressed in rags, slowly approaching.

Drogon huffs, angling his head to take note of her reaction with one red-gold eye, spines and scales rippling in agitation as if to begin puffing himself up, to become bigger, and frighten back the thing frightening her, but she's quick to sure up her posture and transmit confidence, reaching out and touching the edge of his wing, all the way unable to keep her gaze off the man who is unmistakably Viserys Targayren.

Edited (alternatively i could quit writing) 2017-02-06 06:48 (UTC)

Victor is so happy they've given him a stipend. Because that straight up went to buying books. He's laden down with books ranging from a few 'how to internet' sort of books, a medical textbook, and some poetry. He's walking back to his house, bogged down with bags of books when he spots King Dragon over here, looking at a hot dog and also looking out of place.

Privately, Victor's thankful that this man in his tattered clothes is diverting some attention from Victor's very out of date clothes. He watches Viserys for a moment or two, debating whether or not he wants to talk to the man. Every fiber of his being is saying 'no, leave him alone, just go back to your house.' But...he would like someone to complain with about the Internet (how does it work?)

Mustering up his courage, Victor walks up to Viserys and gives him a small nod.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one attempting to adjust to this brave new world."

Silver hair. Having met Daenerys, it was hard to mistake Targaryen features for anything else. The man was unfamiliar, but that was not a surprise. For a moment, Jon wondered if this man was the prince that had stolen his aunt, the Targaryen prince that had started Robert's Rebellion. But there was little reason to speculate. Before he could even begin guessing fully, the man had stepped into the road.

A car came barreling from around the corner, its horn blaring as it raced closer to Viserys. Darting forward, Jon knocked the man out of the way, collapsing against the sidewalk as they both narrowly avoided being hit. Ghost waited until it was safe to cross before bounding after his companion.

"You should watch where you step here."

Kaito is wearing his traditional Baron uniform, which is a red and black classy outfit with a red button down shirt under a grey vest and a jacket with flair. He's always been about class, after all, considering he'd died in this uniform. So while Viserys' clothes look mangled and torn, they still catch Kaito's eye- maybe it's the fact that they seem almost medievil ( something he has a fancy towards ) or maybe it's just the fact that he looks rather awkward and out of place, but whatever the reason is enough for Kaito to smoothly walk over, smirking as he does.

He then arches a brow and crosses his arms, asking, "You've eaten horse meat?"

In a sense, Theon still feels the same way as Viserys. He’s been here for two months, but he’s overwhelmed, frustrated, and almost angry with his modern surroundings. He can only take so much of that out on Jon Snow. He’s complied with their clothing, their food, and some methods of transportation, but a lot of it is just too much. The recent blackout proved just how reliant people are on these luxuries, and Theon refuses to end up like them. He keeps everything he learned back home in mind, going over basic things like building a fire and the best way to bring down a wild deer, just to assure himself that he doesn’t forget.

He hasn’t met Dany face to face, but he does know the Targaryen look: silver hair, lilac eyes. Viserys fits it to a T.

Theon doesn’t really care, but he stops all the same when he overhears Viserys's loud remarks to the hot dog vendor.

“Chances are that it is horse meat.”

He would know. He worked there for an entire week. It was the week from hell, by the way.

Sansa is waiting to cross the street when she hears the sound of brakes squealing and tries screeching over the road just a few feet away from her. Not that she really knows what the sound is but it's startling nonetheless, causing her to suck in a sharp breath as she instinctively steps back like she might run at any second.

Then she hears yelling.

Stepping forward curiously, she stops near the edge of the sidewalk and focuses on the man who is causing a scene right there in the middle of the street. There is something about the shade of his hair that gives her pause but she doesn't make the connection yet. She simply stands there, wearing her black dress and cloak, her hands clasped in front of her while she tilts her head to the side. Her own hair is nearly back to its own red shade now, the black having been washed out for days now. It's certainly something she won't do again unless she absolutely has to.

But yes, right now, she is focused on the scene unfolding before her.

[ooc: Let me know if this doesn't work!]

Gentarou arrived prior to the blackout and, with all that action around and the repercussions that followed, there wasn't much time for him to go see all the places he could go with the porters. Nonah was the first off his checklist and, as he was heading back to the porter to go home to Heropa with a bag of snacks for his roommates, that's when he noticed the weird blonde dude in the dirty, torn up clothes looking pretty confused.

"Hey, bud. You need help or something?"

Hair of Targaryen platinum and downtrodden clothing. It could be a coincidence. He has a friend with bright pink hair, so anything goes in these universes. But as Baelish gets closer to the scene Viserys is creating, the Targaryen symbol is unmistakable. Which one is this? Did the porter flip a coin and give them a crazy one?

A car had collided against a pole in an effort to avoid hitting Viserys. And so, the driver is yelling. Viserys is probably also yelling. And Petyr Baelish approaches the situation to diffuse it as best as he can.

"Do not fear, my good man. I will pay for the damages to your vehicle, plus get you a ride to wherever you are going." Littlefinger whips out a business card from his ambassadorial office along with a crisp hundred dollar bill and hands it to the driver, which seems to satisfy him enough to gather his things and start heading on his way. But not without first tossing one last insult to Viserys. And regardless of how Viserys responds, Petyr looms over the Targaryen brother's shoulder.

"People have no respect for royal blood in this world, do they?"

Edited 2017-02-11 14:22 (UTC)

Daenerys had actually informed Tyrion quite recently that he was not the only one who had aquired a brother this month, but in a world where people do all sorts of odd things to their hair, he doesn't actually immediately recognize the man causing a slight commotion at the cafe. The waitress seems a bit frightened of him, but she keeps trying to show him to his seat so he can order a la carte instead of simply buying the first dish that comes out of the kitchens. Tyrion looks simply because there's something happening — it's not as though he's the only one — and then he wonders at the familiar fashion.

And then he sees the Targaryen symbol and it all comes together.

Probably he shouldn't do what he's about to do — Dany wouldn't approve. But regardless Tyrion approaches and, with a placating smile up at the waitress, attempts to intervene.

"Come, my Lord," he says slightly coaxingly. "Share a table with me. They'll bring your food to you if you let them." And Tyrion can pay for it, which is also probably relieving the waitress a great deal, even if Tyrion is also still in the clothes of Westeros, Dany's pin jammed firmly over his heart.

Threaded | Flat

heropa;

nonah 006

nonah.

nonah!

De Chima

[ heropa ]

Maurtia Falls or somethin aight aight aight

De Chima

Nonah

Maurtia Falls

idk maurtia falls?