“I don’t know that it ever existed.” The words fall hollow and soft from her lips, pebbles down an infinite well. She may have lived as a queen, but Falia Flowers is no lady. Just a girl, a stupid girl who dared to fly too close to the sun and was burned for it. She has no wings of her own, after all, no talons. What is there to fight but her own foolishness? What is the point when all her life is gone?
She is curves and soft contours, rose blush; some women can rise from tragedy and degradation and use it to make themselves better, but she is no dragon. And she doesn’t entirely mind the feeling of claws sheathing themselves within her, sinking into her flesh. Perhaps her only purpose is to be used. Maybe that’s just fine. Muted green eyes meet Daenerys’ own, searching.
@fireturnedflesh from here [x]