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CHAPTER FIVE reunion
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nesmyra.
⠀ ⠀
RAIN FELL SOFTLY UPON THE DARKENING WAVES. The sky was grey with ghostly clouds, the blackened stone of Dragonstone appeared wet and slick with drizzle.
It was, ever living up to its name, as frigid yet beautiful as the dark side of the moon, its stone dark and polished. From a distance, it could be considered a fortress; large and demanding, powerful and static in every light of day.
The air was cooling from the falling of the evening, and it whistled through the red-and-black sails in a gentle, solemn wail. The Dragonmont towered as high and mighty as Dragonstone itself, and in the distance, Nesmyra Hightower could see a village nestled near its root. She imagined brothels and taverns, seams of dresses covered in mud, and heels clattering upon stone.
The changing of the tides sent a chill through skin and bone, scathing through Myra's flowing dress. It dragged across the ground when she walked across the wooden deck, pooling around her legs. The fabric closed securely around her neck, adorned with blackened leather, and coloured a strong green against the grey tones of the royal homestead.
Around her, dragons roared.
Mighty Vhagar flew behind the regal Sunfyre. Syrax sat near the ridges of Dragonstone, watching them with Caraxes just behind, who curled his tail over her wings. From behind the Dragonmont came the shreeks of others, low and rumbling as the brewing of a storm, and Nesmyra wondered briefly what dragon lurked in those shadows. Vermithor or Sheepstealer, or perhaps even the Cannibal.
"One never does get quite used to them, do they?" Lord Larys Strong asked, hobbling to a stop beside her on the deck. His voice was rasped with maturity, the tone of it dark and steady. "Except your brother, perhaps."
