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" oh, i mustn't bore you with the details. " the sigh galinda exhales is long-winded — so-much-so — and frankly overdrawn. if there were a chaise to drape herself over nearby, she wouldn't done it in an instant. unfortunately, the furniture in the room provides less than ideal. " really, i'll just stay in my solitude and braverism. the last thing i would ever want to be is a burden. "
@embrosyn liked for a starter
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❛ were you ( @embrosyn ) going to tell me or were you just going to make me guess what you're thinking and feeling ? ❜
* one liner call. accepting
♡ @embrosyn, EMBRON.
“ i can’t understand how you can seem so miserable all the time… don’t you ever get tired? “
her painted nails hammer a staccato rhythm on her darkened phone screen: tap, tap, tap, tap. there it sits on the wooden tabletop, ostensibly silent; mockingly so, in the throes of a bar teeming with the din of people. impatience isn't the culprit behind her movements—he's not late, she's early—but maria won't attribute the action to nervousness, either. speculation, she decides, defiant. because this meeting is an amorphous one—will this be a night of conflict, or confession? in the absence of a clear answer, maria seeks one at the bottom of her dwindling drink. the malt flavour offers no reply.
she'd suggested the meeting. and so she basks in hateful waiting, brown eyes flitting routinely to the entrance of the low lit-bar. all their meetings thus far had been things of chance, maria thinks; maybe a planned encounter was simply beyond them. her scarlet mouth gives way to a smile, entertained by the image of fate's hand tugging at their rotten strings. the picture fades when he arrives, his unforgotten figure appearing in her periphery.
" i would've got you a drink, if you'd replied to my text. thanks for coming, doctor. "
starter for @embrosyn.
𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦, in a rather blasé posture; porcelain features are devoured by the ailments of a vexatious mutilation invading the once chiseled features of a brumal veil. she is the pale seraph illuminating amidst an ominous emanation that has begun it’s untimely ﹠ unruly stir : wholeheartedly at the mercy of time ﹠ ⁽ … ⁾ expertise. the longer they sat in silence, the ticking away at the clock had echoed. a mantra of chaos dispelling at the wasting of words. yet here they sat, towering above the halls beneath. where marred ataxia ensued ﹠ sickness swelled in the minds of those inestimable to her by means of ⁽ … ⁾ madness ﹖
▊ ◊ ▊ ❝ so ⁽ … ⁾ you are the replacement they sent to me ﹖ doctor embrosyn vallieré ⁽ @embrosyn ⁾ ❞ perceive her luxuriant office as she observes the paperwork before her, doused in abnormal opulence for that of a scholarly mistress. extra had slipped the mind of all those who entered. met with a cold as wintry as the lily-white paint that blinded each corner. overhead, an acicular chandelier suspends in morbid anticipation. oftentimes than not, her imagination would wander to what would happen if it was to fall.
⁽ now had been one of those moments as her eyes lazily peeled upward ⁾ A SIGH HUFFS !
❝ another ineffective mound of flesh coming to tell me they know nothing of the sort ⁽ … ⁾ have not seen anything like it as they scurry away in horror ﹖ i requested a doctor with expertise before you ﹠ received a novice. respectfully, doctor vallieré - if you are going to waste my time, 𝘪 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦. ❞
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[ @embrosyn , starter call. accepting. ]
The corridors are haunted by a gentle humming, and the shimmering twilight is simply an illusion on the window glass. In reaction, white hair glitters, holographic reflections in their brilliant, snowy shine. The moon hung high in the sky, if not the pitch black, warned her it was late. She wraps her arms about herself as shadows dance along the walls. Meeting him in this manner is rather usual. Albeit unusual in his beloved institution . . Assume she couldn't wait.
When she sees him, her amethyst eyes light up and she lets out a joyful shriek. She lopes over to him, feather light feet, as silent as a mouse, her ears pointing upward to the ceiling. She instantly clutches his sleeve, bending forward with a crane of the neck, her gaze sensitive. "Doctor, it's been a long time." Rose petals in their own right, sweet, honey-soaked words flow like silk and lay in the ears soft as velvet. "You must have missed me, haven't you?"
𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝙰𝚃𝙼𝙾𝚂𝙿𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚄𝙽𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚂 𝙰𝚃 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴, depsite the obvious differences: the air is medicinal, faint in the scent of humanness; still –– there is a familiarity here. having just been in this building the previous week, the ambassador returns with a specific face in mind: one of grim seriousness, of a stern brow paired with a doctoral tone of voice [ the healers back home would be amazed to study under him, to watch as he commanded an entire room with a simple word ]. she stands in the middle of the floor, a bouquet of white hydrangeas resting in her arms; a woman touches her arm and asks if she needs any assistance –– Are you waiting for someone, miss? Oh, well, I suppose I am; you see... ah, there he is.
she takes a moment to disengage from the woman, a step taken backwards and to the side; the neck turns, the gaze follows ––– @embrosyn passes briskly and she calls after him, his title leaving her tongue and hanging in the air as a feather: ❝ Doctor Vallieré ? i don’t know if you remember my last visit here, but i wanted to come in person, rather than leave a thank - you note with a receptionist ( ... ) ❞
daenerys stormborn dreams of idealism. faced with bloody torture & left to die at the hands of her own blood, simply cast aside for her own birth : a woman grown starved for love. daenerys stormborn is in constant mourning. for herself. for the daughter she could have been, the child she dreamt to be. for the princess of dragonstone that has never once stepped upon the throne she was born for. [in this world, you live or you die based on the mistakes of the past & the will of the god’s future.] when will she learn? as her own fingers clench in pain, nails digging into her palm as she’s nearly sure there’s blood to be drawn. all the mother of dragons can think is that it’s a pitiful way to die & she hears the sound of her brother’s laughter. robert baratheon’s wish to have her killed , the hopeless sound of death at her very footstep & the gross mistakes of her past that make her feet bloody. [father: dare i dream that perhaps poison did to you what it feels to do to me?]
Q: TO THE EXILED MOTHER OF DRAGONS, DID YOU TRULY BELIEVE THAT A GIFT FROM A CHILD WOULD GRANT YOU SERENITY? ARE YOU A FOOL OR ARE YOU MAD? [ 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚆𝙷𝙸𝙲𝙷 𝙸𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚂𝙴? ]
in agony, seven shadows haunt her once more. in spirit, daenerys has lost her wings, fully entrenched in the fire of her own mistakes. no longer the unburnt as her own skin scorches on fire again & again. helplessly, her advisors seek help, at the mercy of those most brilliant — the most trustworthy they can find. daenerys has but one request, the words of her own experience that whisper in her ear like her own ancestors sow the legendary return of the house targaryen [they whisper, over & over again: daenerys: do not trust those who speak riddles & conjure up schemes. daenerys : are you aware that magic will be our undoing? daenerys : if you fall for their tricks, you will die.] it is agony, white-hot pain in her body, the simple fruit gifted from a boy that has caused even her own dragons to stifle from worry. please — not her children. she can bare it, she screams she can, yet when the doctor arrives, all falls apart. [they say he is a legend amongst here, they say he will understand her apprehension of magic. they say she can trust him.] ❝ this image that you see — this weak & fragiled being — this is not me. i am daenerys targaryen, the true ruler of the iron throne & i swear to you, if you have come here under the pretense of the lannisters or out of your own doing to pull me apart — YOU SHALL FAIL. ❞ the words fall under her tongue, bloody lips caked with lies & mistrust. she’s fallen so far, ghastly an image of skin strung over bones as she attempts to put some strength behind the words.
[ 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖾. 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁. ]
𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄.
labored breaths, eyes glossy from water, a never-ending image replays in her head. headless dragons burn each other : her only hope is in the man before her. another stranger she entrusts her life to. [ ᵂᴴᴱᴺ ᵂᴵᴸᴸ ˢᴴᴱ ᴸᴱᴬᴿᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᴬᵁᴸᵀ ᴵᴺ ᴰᴼᴵᴺᴳ ˢᴼ ] ❝ i cannot live like this. if i am to die, be it on my own terms. if i am hopeless, i ask for your honesty. i hold no secrets from you, there is no point when all i have is a wish to live & fulfill my birthright. ❞ daenerys stormborn will not die today.
@embrosyn
