Aegon "Jon Snow" Targaryen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
northerndragon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2018-03-27 02:36 am
northerndragon) wrote in riverviewlogs2018-03-27 02:36 am
[closed] Wired again, now look who's laughing
who: Jon Snow (northerndragon) and Daenerys Targaryen (stormborned)
what: indeed
when: backdated to Sampremi
where: The Street Market, and anywhere else
warnings: probably hard PG-13, will update if/when necessary
This was a bad idea.
It's been strange, having Daenerys back in the city, so close, still not as close as they were, and it seems unfair to him that he has memories of her that she doesn't share -- the sort of memories no woman would want a man to have without her knowledge and participation. To make it worse, about a week or so after her return, he'd had days upon days of vivid dreams of her... those, at least, have calmed.
For his part, it doesn't seem right to use his memories of what he knows she likes to try to bring them closer again. So he treats her as if he's courting her, as if someone has arranged it all between them, and takes her for supper once or twice a week, places he thinks she might like rather than places he knows she does... or, if the latter, he tells her it was a place he thought she liked before, and asks her if she'd rather go somewhere else.
He sees enough of her to call her a friend. He doesn't think of her as a friend. Sampremi doesn't seem to him to be for friends, or about friendship, and coming to it with her seems like a great foolish mistake... until he considers the idea of someone else bringing her.
All these parties are always loud like a war: drums and screaming and bodies thrashing around, but unlike a war, there's always laughter and joy, too. Still, he knows enough to avoid the color raves unless she insists on visiting one, and the technology expo doesn't quite interest him. But the street market seems like a place to find supper, and then he realizes that he was quite mistaken.
It's not that he's the boy he was anymore -- the boy who was so determined that he would never take a lover. He isn't exactly abashed by what he sees, though he isn't sure what the purpose is of seeing so much of it. It's that seeing it with her, now, is rattling. Being told that the fruit and fowl that they're eating is meant to excite their appetites -- the vendor says something about how handsome he is, and how beautiful Daenerys is, and how nice it is to see them together -- that's uncomfortable too.
Just now, the fowl is burning his mouth and throat.
"Was one of these booths selling ale? Did you see?" he says to her, blinking his watering eyes, trying not to choke on his words.
northerndragon) and Daenerys Targaryen (stormborned)what: indeed
when: backdated to Sampremi
where: The Street Market, and anywhere else
warnings: probably hard PG-13, will update if/when necessary
This was a bad idea.
It's been strange, having Daenerys back in the city, so close, still not as close as they were, and it seems unfair to him that he has memories of her that she doesn't share -- the sort of memories no woman would want a man to have without her knowledge and participation. To make it worse, about a week or so after her return, he'd had days upon days of vivid dreams of her... those, at least, have calmed.
For his part, it doesn't seem right to use his memories of what he knows she likes to try to bring them closer again. So he treats her as if he's courting her, as if someone has arranged it all between them, and takes her for supper once or twice a week, places he thinks she might like rather than places he knows she does... or, if the latter, he tells her it was a place he thought she liked before, and asks her if she'd rather go somewhere else.
He sees enough of her to call her a friend. He doesn't think of her as a friend. Sampremi doesn't seem to him to be for friends, or about friendship, and coming to it with her seems like a great foolish mistake... until he considers the idea of someone else bringing her.
All these parties are always loud like a war: drums and screaming and bodies thrashing around, but unlike a war, there's always laughter and joy, too. Still, he knows enough to avoid the color raves unless she insists on visiting one, and the technology expo doesn't quite interest him. But the street market seems like a place to find supper, and then he realizes that he was quite mistaken.
It's not that he's the boy he was anymore -- the boy who was so determined that he would never take a lover. He isn't exactly abashed by what he sees, though he isn't sure what the purpose is of seeing so much of it. It's that seeing it with her, now, is rattling. Being told that the fruit and fowl that they're eating is meant to excite their appetites -- the vendor says something about how handsome he is, and how beautiful Daenerys is, and how nice it is to see them together -- that's uncomfortable too.
Just now, the fowl is burning his mouth and throat.
"Was one of these booths selling ale? Did you see?" he says to her, blinking his watering eyes, trying not to choke on his words.
no subject
She glances at her companion as they stroll; becoming closer to Jon has appeal. He's been kind, helpful, courteous, and overall nothing short of endlessly patient with how unfamiliar she is with this place, something she appreciates but must be a bit inwardly frustrating for him. It piques her curiosity. Despite not being forward enough yet to come out and directly ask it, and knowing he won't likely give her a straight answer out of his overdeveloped sense of honor, Dany nevertheless finds herself wondering what sort of relationship they've had here, given that it was months they've spent together.
Jon Snow — now Stark, if she's to be specific — is a handsome man, there's no question of it. And a fierce warrior, and an admired leader. And the way that he looks at her, sometimes...
...Well, perhaps not this moment, not when he's literally choking on food.
"Is it too spicy for you?" She teases, but she's not wont to let him suffer for long, and she hurries to locate a street vendor peddling ale or wine or the like. The closest thing she can find is one of the displays of wine made from the juice of the local red-orange fruit, the one the vendors are claiming is an aphrodisiac.
Surely it's just a jest, all of this food and drink purported to excite them sexually — right?
"Here. Share this with me." She takes a long sip — nearly a gulp, as the weather is seasonably warm — and gives it to him to wash down the spiciness of the fowl he's eaten.
no subject
He takes the cup gratefully. If people like to consume these two things together, maybe, maybe one complements the other. Half the cup is down his gullet before another second passes, and not long after, there's some relief. It's not total -- his mouth still feels raw -- but it's something. He takes a second, less frantic sip.
"Gods. What do they put on that?" He's had pepper, anyone who was raised in a great house likely has, but this was something more.
Now that the most urgent situation has passed, he glances at the cup in his hand. "I didn't mean to drink it all. If you wanted more--" He pauses, then shrugs. The Perimeter Guard pays very well. He wouldn't call himself a rich man, but he has more money these days than he knows what to do with, in a different way than he had as a king. "If you wanted more, or you wanted anything else. Anything at all."
He glances, suggestively, in the direction of the booths meant for winning a prize.
no subject
"I'd love more wine," she admits; the fruit it's made with is sweet and fragrant, and only half a flute of it has left her limbs feeling warm and loose. But Jon is motioning with his eyes to the prize booths, displaying games both real and simulated, and her eyes lighten at his playful suggestion. Here in this place, she's seeing a very different side of the normally stoic and serious Northerner.
"Do you think you can win something?" she asks archly, lips curving into an amused smirk. A display of bravado that's somewhat charming, even if she could likely acquire one of the prizes for herself instead of having to depend on someone to win it for her.
no subject
"It depends on the game. I've hunted enough, my aim is good, but I'm still not used to their guns. If one of them uses arrows... aye, I can win something. But it may be that you won't want--" His throat catches on the spices' remaining heat "-- you won't want what I can win for you."
This is different from giving her a kingdom in exchange for her help, and it's not ordinarily his sort of game, if he even has a sort. But he feels an impulse... maybe it's fruitless, and maybe there's no need when Mormont isn't around being so very helpful... he feels an impulse to try to impress her, please her, make her smile.
He moves towards the booth where she bought the wine, and buys two more cups of it, one for each of them.
"Do you think you can win something?" He wouldn't be surprised if she could, though he's not sure which game she would choose.