(122-01-12) Another Dream of Dragons
Another Dream of Dragons
Summary: Novice Bryn Flowers has another peculiar dream.
Date: Date of play (12/01/122)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-01-01-a-dream-of-dragons
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-03-leandro-s-code
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-06-warlocks-and-dragons
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-05-sneaking-at-the-sept
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-07-rare-plants-and-dreams
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-08-maesters-behaving-badly
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-09-a-conspiracy-of-books
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-01-10-geeks-and-cider
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-12-another-dream-of-dragons
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-04-old-scroll-researches
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-17-maesters-and-mysteries
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-17-motifs-and-maesters
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-23-a-maester-without-chains
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-01-28-the-treasure-hunters
Players:
Bryn..

This dream is very real and sharp. It is late at night in the novice dorm. There is a rustle of wings and a shadow briefly blocks the moon again.

This time Bryn is up almost immediately, bare feet landing on the floor seconds after the sound of wings, and he runs to the window again.

There is just one dragon this time, slightly larger, but likely one of the one from before. The night is all black and grey and white shadows. The dragon is perched on the dome of the starry Sept, head lifted towards the moon.

Bryn watches this Dragon a moment, then leans out the window to check the roofs of the Citadel he can see from there for another Dragon.

There are no other dragons in sight and this one looks to be settled in place.

After a moment or two, Bryn makes his way outside. This time, however, he doesn't stop at the bridge but continues on, heading towards the sept at a run.

As the novice arrives, the Dragon flames. In that breif light it can be seen zir scales are both black and green. The door of the Sept is open and candles flicker within.

Bryn doesn't flinch. Whether he knows it's a dream or not, Bryn has no fear of flames. Instead, the flames draw his eye like a beautiful sunset. After, he looks up at the Dragon a moment, not really wanting to leave the sight of it behind. Finally, however, he steps through the doors into the sept.

Inside there are candles, so many candles, mostly clustered around the feet of the statues. There too are Visenya's dragons, just as they looked the last Bryn saw them, one each perched on the Maiden's shoulders. She lifts her hands to stroke them, chirring softly at them. The Warrior looks on envious. The Smith is forging something small, but hard to see. The father studies Bryn as if weighing him, looking much more… Targaryen than in the real statue. The Mother looks anxious, and looks about to weep. The Crone is crouched, studying the floor with her lantern. The Stranger is as he always is though his cloak flutters in te slight breeze, the only hint of animation.

Bryn looks first to the dragons, smiling as he sees them, but then looking to each of the statutes. When he sees that weighing look on the Father's face, he stands a little taller, trying to look as impressive as an eleven-year-old in his nightclothes can look. He tries to look at what the Smith is making, but the expression on the Mother's face is the greater priority. "Why are you upset?"

The Maiden really could be either Visenya or daevon when one looks close. The father might be the King or one of his closest relatives. The Mother's face shifts. A careful eye will pick out typical features for each region and shifting regalia representing each of the old pre-conquest Kings. The Crone… The Crone… One minute she might be Camillo in drag, another Leandro. The warrior might be Rhaegor or Maelys, depending on the way the candlelight his them. The Smith might be Dhraegon or Jaehaerys some other old Targaryen of his generation or older, one minute his wrinkled face is baby smooth, the next he has a full beard.

The Mother sighs, "I see what is coming, Child. There will be blood and tears and so many will fall from the sky screaming. I weep for the land and for all my children."

Bryn's eyes widen a little at the Mother's answer. He's likely full of questions, it's all over his face, but the only one you bring himself to ask is, "Can I help?"

The Mother looks at him with deep sorrow, "You could help with the choosing if you are quick and wise enough, but the cracks were showing before you were born."

Bryn looks intently, set on helping, "I'll try." Then, of course, he has to ask, "Um… What is the choosing?"

The Mother says gently, "There are many choices ahead, now and when you become a man."

The crone eyes Bryn, "You and your friends are sniffing after one right now, with the hounds on your heals."

Bryn blinks, "Oh." Then, to both Mother and Crone, he says, "I'll try to be as wise as I can, and as quick."

The Crone keeps searching, "Best to be quick, yes. Whoever is fastest makes a choice to change the balance."

Bryn nods and says, "I will." Something tells him that he needs to see what the Smith is making, that it'll be important, so now he steps to look, before he leaves to hurry towards this choosing.

The thing is the size of two average sized grown man's hands laid next to each other. It glints like metall. A close look will show that it's pan pipes, only made of Valarian steal with golden inlays in a design one can't see properly because of the Smith's hands and tools.

That information in hand, and a feeling he has to rush, he turns to run back outside again.

It is night, the Starry Sept is dark and the Sleeper is standing awake and barefoot in the courtyard before the Sept.

Bryn blinks a bit, looking around in the dark, and rubbing his eyes. Then he turns and starts to run back towards the Citadel, "Oh, I'm gonna be in trouble…"

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