A Surfeit of Companionship
Sixth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
Camp of the Sons of the Mist, Cleaveflint Valley, the Mountains of the Moon
If you had told Dalla half a year ago that she would feel strange to be waking up alone in the hide tent, she would have scoffed. Sure, she had gotten Elinor to stop playing at being a mouse all quiet and furtive, and she had even started to brew a proper cup of mugwort tea, but that just meant she wasn't being more trouble than she was worth. Yet here she was, grumbling with more than cold and wet from the chill night rain.
The trouble was, Dalla didn't understand Lowlanders proper-like, not the way the withered old man in his far distant cave did or the dragon on his summer throne. It all hinged on everything breaking just so, a duel and a death for Brynden Rivers, a giant made dead that had never been alive to begin with, and knights turned against Arryn's widow and her son.
Under her breath, the young seer uttered words that were half a curse at all the half-understood trickery and half a prayer to the Old Gods to see it that everything worked as it should anyway. She didn't
like complicated plans, one thing to push a stone down a slope to cause an avalanche, quite another to try to skip a stone seven times on water to get it to cause an avalanche the next mountain over. The Raven casting his will and his eyes over half the world may be at ease spinning those plots, but Dalla wasn't. She would've liked to ask who was married to who, where she could find the friends to cut apart with blades in the night, and where to find rivals to push together until they went at each oher's throats.
Well, she had the dragons at least, they were clever as fey's get, which they were in some small part, as well as being bloody dragons with all the magic of their breed at their disposal.
"Where the fuck did those easterners go?" she asked the spearwife guarding her tent. Vyn gave her a dubious look that sat strangely on her heavy, weather-beaten brow, one that sent a chill down Dalla's spine.
"Well now, fucking is more or less what they were doing when last I saw 'em last night. They had some good wine on them, those merchants." Of course Dalla couldn't say those were dragons sent by the King in the east to help kill his enemies, but she hadn't imagined anyone would want to get that bloody close to beings of darkness and bloody smiles.
Maybe they just couldn't see as well as I do, Dalla thought.
It was easier by the day to see where the Raven came by his pride. She shook her head
. I've only got my eyes and my legs to work with these days, and I can't afford to forget it.
"Get 'em in my tent before the sun climbs another two fingers in the sky!" After a moment, she shouted after Vyn. "Dressed and with the moss out of their hair!"
One more thing to look into the future over...
One of the spearwives now had a baby witch-dragon growing in her belly, or maybe half-man-half-dragon, but she sure as shit would be able to tell it was no Essosi trader who sired that. Dalla wasn't sure if she should curse or laugh, so she settled on both. How the hells was she going to explain that one? Should she even try?
The visiting Myrkdreki were seduced by clanswomen and one of them left his partner pregnant. What does Dalla do?
[] Explain what happened to the woman in secret and then send her off to Sorcerer's Deep so she can't spill any secrets
[] Surreptitiously terminate the pregnancy, caught this early it should be trivial and with no signs to mark the deed
[] Write in
OOC: I thought it would be best to remind everyone what the plan was in this update and then i rolled the equivalent of a random encounter to simulate events in the rarely part of the day. It fell on one of the odder results, though far from the worst. Not yet edited.
