keep keep on running, there's no place like home

Her mind kept circling around the Qian and the many different destinies that she had been acquainted with through a common cause. Mirage, the onyx femme who had offered her a home away from her tyrant of a brother, when the snowy belle had been at her most fragile. She deeply appreciated anything Mirage had done, and Dany knew very well that Ahriman almost took her for a second mother. Drawing a deep breath, she tasted salt upon the zephyr as it ran its gentle fingers through her mane. She was still so young, only three summers, and yet she was already a mother. Things had not gone the way the damsel had thought; unexpected suffering had been brought upon her with the slaughter of her family and the abuse by her brother. But it had not been in vain, for in the ruins of her childhood innocence and naivety, something much stronger was starting to grow. Daenerys was maturing; it showed in her thistle eyes. Soon, she would need to find her own place in the world, and whether it was under the rule of Mirage or somewhere completely different, only time would tell.

One thing that had not changed was her youthful beauty - she had borne a strong son, but it had not left many a trace on her lithe frame. The purity of her blood had lent her all the delicacy of an Egyptian Arabian, but less extreme than her brother. The snowwhite had drifted off in thought, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun was slowly dying, but now she turned her head as something distracted her out the corner of her eye. She raised her dished tiara and watched with large, alert eyes as she saw a grand stallion within short distance, coming closer. Nares flared and slender lobes pointed forward, finding nothing familiar about the stallion that was walking towards her but unsure if he posed a threat. Ahriman spotted him too and went directly to his dame, the ghostly pale babe pressing himself against her side and peering warily around her shoulder from the opposite side of where the stallion was approaching.

When he spoke, Dany couldn’t help but smile and shyly look away, but soon after her thistle eyes ventured back to his orange ones, glistening cheerfully. She saw sincerity in their depths, and an immediate honesty and she knew he spoke truthfully. “I feel honored to deserve such gracious appraisal, kind stranger,” she chimed, voice soft as it drifted from her velvet lips. Seeing his slight discomfort in the way he shuffled his hooves, she hoped to relieve it a bit as she stepped forward and stretched out her nape, extending her maw in a greeting to the much larger steed. “My name is Daenerys, and this is my son, Ahriman,” she added, gesturing toward the colt at her side. He did not speak, merely blinked at the mention of his name, much too consumed by watching this huge creature that bore both wings and horns. Dany had never seen anyone like him before, but she knew better than her son not to stand there gawking. Instead, she smiled kindly at the brown and orange stag, waiting for a name to be offered in return.