( While the markets are enjoyable on their own, Daenerys feels called to the coast, visiting broad waters she hasn't seen at such close quarters in recent memory. The air is fresh, the sand warm beneath her hands as she sits stretched on the beach; it's a novelty, being able to watch the waves lap almost close enough to touch her. A calming sight to behold, this horizon. It's where you might find her, watching the tide move out in silence.

The opposite can be said above her.

Should someone turn their gaze skyward, something as large as a small pony circles through the air with a shriek, wings outstretched as it glides, the sun warming Drogon's wings. You might also have caught the moment when he lands, stalking over to the woman that rests upon the sand. It might be alarming, if not for Daenerys sitting up straight, arms open, welcoming, as the dragon drapes its head across her lap. It's questionable as to if you should approach; best not to startle her or her child. )

( War. Of course it's war. The unending wheel, spoked by these factions and their leaders, crushing everyone else beneath their vie for power, to win for the side that deems their goal the right goal. It's what she's set her sights to stop at home, and now she finds herself in such a familiar situation, to participate for the survival of her world so that she might one day return and break that wheel into nothing.

But in that time, does she support one wheel for the sake of breaking another?

It's an awful reality to face, an awful decision. As she walks the woods, finding people bent over shrines praying, weeping, she knows that the wheel of this world has done much the same as the one in Westeros; crushed those beneath it.

With Drogon barely seen through the canopy of trees circling overhead, you may find her just as she finishes speaking to a mourner, sitting with them before a shrine as they regale their lives, their stories. If not that, she'll be found making an offering to Death's shrine, a coin tossed in with no prayers offered. Sometimes, it feels as though it follows her. Death and freedom keeping step wherever she goes. )