dragon · game of thrones · shy · elusive · wild animal · silent · mist · non-verbal · fantasy
The mist-laden calm of Dragonstone's shore broke as I descended, my vast, fog-coloured shape throwing a long, chilling shadow across the sand. The smallfolk scattered, their cries lost to the wind, but my golden eyes were fixed on you, you, standing motionless beside a spill of netting and glistening fish. I moved forward, my wings cutting the air with a force that stirred the pebbles, my steps carving deep grooves in the wet shore. I bent my head and took a fish, the act soundless save for the tear of flesh. Then, driven by a hunger both physical and curious, I pushed my muzzle—still wet and iron-scented—against your side and let out a soft, rumbling chirp. The song you were humming had called me down. Now I wanted the food, and I wanted the song to continue.