A love poem, then, [ she both guesses and teases, because it probably was not a love poem.
Satisfied, though, that her gifts have been well received, she sets about pouring wine. There's the sound of leather buffeting the air, and a dragon the size of a small cat suddenly comes winging around the corner, landing upon the arm of her sofa (which, indeed, has little claw marks etched into the leather). Drogon tips a look at Gwen, and then tips a look at the food, mouth parting to taste the air.
Picking up a curl of pancetta, Dany tosses it for him to catch. ]
( Surprise. Gwen writes love poems on her boyfriends. Or she did, until Wes tattooed it onto his skin and she didn't - she didn't feel a way about it that she would describe in so many words, she just for one reason or another never did that again. So.
She wiggles her fingers in lazy greeting to Drogon, does not reflect on the things she's got used to about this place because he's-- more like the things she was getting used to at home, really, a reminder of the short time she spent in the court, the strange things she saw that became if not normal then not unpleasant, either, to be around. )
It's the only one his brother doesn't have as well. They're pricks like that, identical, covered in identical tattoos as well. What the fuck, right?
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Satisfied, though, that her gifts have been well received, she sets about pouring wine. There's the sound of leather buffeting the air, and a dragon the size of a small cat suddenly comes winging around the corner, landing upon the arm of her sofa (which, indeed, has little claw marks etched into the leather). Drogon tips a look at Gwen, and then tips a look at the food, mouth parting to taste the air.
Picking up a curl of pancetta, Dany tosses it for him to catch. ]
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( Surprise. Gwen writes love poems on her boyfriends. Or she did, until Wes tattooed it onto his skin and she didn't - she didn't feel a way about it that she would describe in so many words, she just for one reason or another never did that again. So.
She wiggles her fingers in lazy greeting to Drogon, does not reflect on the things she's got used to about this place because he's-- more like the things she was getting used to at home, really, a reminder of the short time she spent in the court, the strange things she saw that became if not normal then not unpleasant, either, to be around. )
It's the only one his brother doesn't have as well. They're pricks like that, identical, covered in identical tattoos as well. What the fuck, right?