08-14-2015, 01:59 PM
Daenerys had felt low before, but rarely in her life had she feel this desolate. Stranded in the middle of a small desert civilization with no one to accompany her except a strangely-dressed wizard; she supposed she had been in more dire situations before, but something about this felt altogether unfamiliar. Perhaps it was the lack of any tangible connection to her homeworld; she would admit that she had only been in the Omniverse for a matter of hours, but thus far she had seen no evidence that this realm had anything at all to do with Westeros or Essos. For all she knew, her presence here was the only connection between her old home and her new one.
She shuddered at that thought. Her new home. Had she given up hope of finding her way back to Westeros already? Did the idea seem so hopeless? Had she really resigned herself to figuring out how to make this Omniverse work rather than trying to find her way back to her people, the people who so welcomingly accepted her as their queen?
Yes, she was forced to admit, she had; she didn’t know what it was, but something told her this predicament would not be a temporary one.
At least, she supposed, she did not have to worry about danger. The Black Mage had proven himself quite capable of keeping her safe; not only had he stood fast against Drake Oneir, prepared to fight back if and when the secondary had launched an offensive against them, but he had also successfully gotten her to safety when she’d been overtaken by exhaustion. Truly, the wizard would make a welcome addition to her journeys, wherever her travels happened to take her.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she responded to him, noting the weary quality in his voice. A good bodyguard and traveling companion, but not invincible, she supposed. It would do them both good to rest in this town for a little while. She approached him, tentatively. “…thank you,” she said, standing up as straight as she could muster and trying to look the part of the appreciative princess, “Thank you for bringing me here.”
The Black Mage simply nodded in response. Of course he would bring her here, she supposed—after all, they were in this together now, whether they liked it or not. She sighed, turning back to the nurses.
“My companion and I…” she glanced back at the Black Mage, and then again at the women who had helped her. Begrudgingly, she continued. “My companion and I require your assistance,” she folded her hands in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth between the skinny woman and the rounder one. “You see, we are… new to this place, and have no way of knowing where exactly we are.” The bigger woman chuckled a bit. She nodded at the skinny woman, and the latter scurried off to go do something. The Black Mage’s glowing yellow eyes followed her, suspicious.
“New to the Dunes, or to the Omniverse?” the rotund woman perked an eyebrow. Daenerys considered lying for a moment.
“Both,” she replied, deciding eventually to tell the truth, “We are… uh, what did he call it, Mage?” she asked, turning to her companion. The wizard and Dany pondered for a moment, trying to remember the word Drake Oneir had used.
Eventually, Black Mage remembered it. “Primes,” he said.
“Yes, that’s it, we are primes,” Dany smiled, turning back to the nurse, “We are primes and we require your assistance.”
The big nurse scoffed. “Y’know,” she leaned onto one hip, exuding sass, “It’s funny that you think I’m gonna do anything for you when you haven’t even deigned to share your goddamn name with me, princess.” The khaleesi scowled. Who the hell did this woman think she was? Still, she supposed, she needed her on her side, for the moment, anyway.
“My name is Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen,” she began to rattle off her titles, “and this is my associate, the Black Mage—”
“And you’re both coming with us.”
Dany spun around. Standing just ahead of them was a coalition of men—four soldiers, it seemed—in stark-white, metallic uniforms. Their faces were covered by helmets of the same white color, accented by black lines here and there. Each man cradled a strange-looking weapon in his arms; the princess shuffled a bit further behind her companion, not knowing whether or not these men intended to harm them. Off to the side of them, the skinny nurse—who’d obviously gone to fetch them—stood with her eyes on the sandy ground. “And exactly who might you lot be?” she asked, peeking out from behind her bodyguard.
“We represent the Empire,” the leading soldier said, his voice sounding strangely mechanized through the helmet. “Welcome to Carrefore, Miss Targaryen.”
She shuddered at that thought. Her new home. Had she given up hope of finding her way back to Westeros already? Did the idea seem so hopeless? Had she really resigned herself to figuring out how to make this Omniverse work rather than trying to find her way back to her people, the people who so welcomingly accepted her as their queen?
Yes, she was forced to admit, she had; she didn’t know what it was, but something told her this predicament would not be a temporary one.
At least, she supposed, she did not have to worry about danger. The Black Mage had proven himself quite capable of keeping her safe; not only had he stood fast against Drake Oneir, prepared to fight back if and when the secondary had launched an offensive against them, but he had also successfully gotten her to safety when she’d been overtaken by exhaustion. Truly, the wizard would make a welcome addition to her journeys, wherever her travels happened to take her.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she responded to him, noting the weary quality in his voice. A good bodyguard and traveling companion, but not invincible, she supposed. It would do them both good to rest in this town for a little while. She approached him, tentatively. “…thank you,” she said, standing up as straight as she could muster and trying to look the part of the appreciative princess, “Thank you for bringing me here.”
The Black Mage simply nodded in response. Of course he would bring her here, she supposed—after all, they were in this together now, whether they liked it or not. She sighed, turning back to the nurses.
“My companion and I…” she glanced back at the Black Mage, and then again at the women who had helped her. Begrudgingly, she continued. “My companion and I require your assistance,” she folded her hands in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth between the skinny woman and the rounder one. “You see, we are… new to this place, and have no way of knowing where exactly we are.” The bigger woman chuckled a bit. She nodded at the skinny woman, and the latter scurried off to go do something. The Black Mage’s glowing yellow eyes followed her, suspicious.
“New to the Dunes, or to the Omniverse?” the rotund woman perked an eyebrow. Daenerys considered lying for a moment.
“Both,” she replied, deciding eventually to tell the truth, “We are… uh, what did he call it, Mage?” she asked, turning to her companion. The wizard and Dany pondered for a moment, trying to remember the word Drake Oneir had used.
Eventually, Black Mage remembered it. “Primes,” he said.
“Yes, that’s it, we are primes,” Dany smiled, turning back to the nurse, “We are primes and we require your assistance.”
The big nurse scoffed. “Y’know,” she leaned onto one hip, exuding sass, “It’s funny that you think I’m gonna do anything for you when you haven’t even deigned to share your goddamn name with me, princess.” The khaleesi scowled. Who the hell did this woman think she was? Still, she supposed, she needed her on her side, for the moment, anyway.
“My name is Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen,” she began to rattle off her titles, “and this is my associate, the Black Mage—”
“And you’re both coming with us.”
Dany spun around. Standing just ahead of them was a coalition of men—four soldiers, it seemed—in stark-white, metallic uniforms. Their faces were covered by helmets of the same white color, accented by black lines here and there. Each man cradled a strange-looking weapon in his arms; the princess shuffled a bit further behind her companion, not knowing whether or not these men intended to harm them. Off to the side of them, the skinny nurse—who’d obviously gone to fetch them—stood with her eyes on the sandy ground. “And exactly who might you lot be?” she asked, peeking out from behind her bodyguard.
“We represent the Empire,” the leading soldier said, his voice sounding strangely mechanized through the helmet. “Welcome to Carrefore, Miss Targaryen.”