he roams the earth not unlike a ghost; a dragon doesn't do well in one place for too long -- one of the many traits adapted from the winged mountain, he assumes, though even centuries prior; during his human days; rhaegar had been nothing but a pilgrim.
HE IS DRAWN TO THIS PLACE; by the familiar feeling of magic -- and the recommendation of a kindred spirit, an invitation. she, who had seen gaunt for who he truly was, who had witnessed the emerald she-beast and did not etch herself back like other, lesser magic-kin. narissa who had shown general interest in his current, eternal, state of being. and answers he'd give -- for a price.
for a heartbeat or two he halts in the threshold of her bar, overly sensitised nose takes in the scent; the feeling of magic, new and old, powerful and meek, caressing pale skin so sweetly. within him nagini stirs, revels in the feeling, and it did coax a ghost of a smile from sallow feature. ( she is nearby, as close as nagini can be, of course, their seperation a meager illusion -- still he feels the aching push and pull towards the emerald mountain ) 'makes his way towards the counter, a tilt of his head leading dark locks astray. he came, like promised. ❝ i was told this place is not half bad. ❞ a jest, though dry in tone; he has not had much human contact in the last few decades.
@tideswell plotted.