Asavvi picked her way over the red sand on her tiny set of cloven hooves with the calm and confidence of a child who felt she had nothing to fear. This was her land; the sand and sun had welcomed her into their embrace on the day of her birth in the harshness of Tallsun and even that had been as comforting to her as one of her mother’s hugs. From the central lake to the outer shores, the filly wandered where she would, content that home was perfectly safe. That safety was often ensured by a careful watch, for the girl rarely wandered alone. Now, though she seemed to be moving northwards quite unaccompanied, her mother followed, barely visible, as a speck in the sky.

Above, the Sultana and her faithful friend Gwaihir soared in tandem, using the height to make an easy sweep of the Dragon’s Throat before ending their duties for the day. Asavvi had taken a liking to tagging along when her mother was on official throat business, endlessly interested in meeting new people an watching the workings of social dynamics. The Sultana had set her on the familiar course northward while she scanned from the sky. When they reached the northern border the girl knew her mother would descend and they could walk back to the oasis together. Someday, Asavvi thought wistfully, she would be able to fly join her mother in the sky but so far her wings were not large enough to carry her.

It was the eagle that spied the unfamiliar figures first and he said as much to Meg through their bond. “Stay with her will you?” Meg whispered into his mind and nodded down at the form of her daughter below. “I will be down in a moment. ” Without a word, the bird let himself descend while Meg swept far overhead to be sure no worrisome activity could be seen across the northern beach. Gwaihir circled lower, sticking near the small girl as she made to approach the newcomers.

Asavvi, barely a season old, had a depthless curiosity; everything she saw demanded investigation, and more that that any person she came across had to be met, had to be known, and so it should be no surprise that she had made a bee line for the strangers as soon as they had come into her sights. Had she the boundless exuberance of her brother (or of many other foals for that matter) her curious nature and lack of appropriate fear of the unknown might have had her racing up to the strangers. As is was, the filly had a well of patience and an unnatural liking of formality that had her approaching in an calm and adorably imperious manner.

She stopped before the two stallions and the mare, never flinching from their size or strength and and gazed up at the gathering with a gentle smile on her star-flecked face. “M’athchomaroon.” She greeted, with a little bow of her head—forgetting as she often did, that there was little chance of them understanding the greeting. She had taken to her father’s language just as easily as her mothers and had a habit of weaving between the two when she spoke. “I am Asavvi, what may I call you?” She beamed up at the adults, and did not flinch when she felt the familiar weight of the golden eagle as he touched down gently on her back. He also swept his gaze among the strangers, but his golden eyes were sharp with hearty disapproval and a fierce warning that was in stark contrast from the gentle grey of Asavvi’s; a princess and her bodyguard.



"Megaera"
"Asavvi"
ooc: Meg'll drop in in a bit to get around to accepting people :)
Dothraki Translations:
- M’athchomaroon - with respect (a formal greeting)

"You may be as different as the sun and the moon


but the same blood flows through both your


hearts. You need her, as she needs you...”