Rhaenyra
Daughter of Viserion the Frost Dragon
When she had come here, it had been to the Dusk Court she had given her name – all for the one she had seen long ago, best them all in her path. The daughter of the Sovereigns of the Winter Court.
Rannveig.
The world had whispered and she answered, and took the path from the sea to the very court. Along the path she walks, until she came to the land of the Dusk. She knew it was, and before them all she had proclaimed herself a warrior for them, a fighter, one to protect the Court. Fighting had always been a part of her life, from when she was a youngster to her being forced from home to wander. It had been a necessity for her survival, true enough, but one she had come to appreciate.
Coming here only seemed logical to her. She may not look like quite the fighter, but beneath her shimmering exterior her skin was laced with scarring, the most recent across her shoulder and she could even be seen favouring a limb ever so slightly.
She had not let the old injury stop her at any point in time, nor would she now. It was well and truly healed, by those who had been wondrous at it, and she had found this place in the wanderlust in her veins.
She comes to the Dusk Court and stops here. Her blue eyes look out and around, taking in all the new sights, inhaling and picking up new scents and hearing sounds familiar but different… and all the while, she knew this was the very region she’d come to give herself to and become a part of… even if for only a segment of her lifetime.
After all, what is life without meeting others along the way.
Rannveig.
The world had whispered and she answered, and took the path from the sea to the very court. Along the path she walks, until she came to the land of the Dusk. She knew it was, and before them all she had proclaimed herself a warrior for them, a fighter, one to protect the Court. Fighting had always been a part of her life, from when she was a youngster to her being forced from home to wander. It had been a necessity for her survival, true enough, but one she had come to appreciate.
Coming here only seemed logical to her. She may not look like quite the fighter, but beneath her shimmering exterior her skin was laced with scarring, the most recent across her shoulder and she could even be seen favouring a limb ever so slightly.
She had not let the old injury stop her at any point in time, nor would she now. It was well and truly healed, by those who had been wondrous at it, and she had found this place in the wanderlust in her veins.
She comes to the Dusk Court and stops here. Her blue eyes look out and around, taking in all the new sights, inhaling and picking up new scents and hearing sounds familiar but different… and all the while, she knew this was the very region she’d come to give herself to and become a part of… even if for only a segment of her lifetime.
After all, what is life without meeting others along the way.
