Neverwinter Forest dreamers of day are dangerous men

drogon's ears splay back, slicking against his skull and there is a quiver of his lips as lotte counters that he couldn't take something that was already his. "it's not your fault, mama," drogon takes a step forward towards her. he doesn't try to reach out and touch her, too afraid that the second he does is the second she will disappear in a plume of smoke. "you did the best you could," he speaks softly, seeking to comfort her because seeing her distraught is painful. "i am alive and i am strong because of you, äiti. because i am your son." he tells her strongly, his tone feverish in the passion he feels behind his words. he is indifferent about arturo — he'd never been meant to be close to him. talvella had always been destined to be a mama's boy.

he does not have to finish crossing the distance for lotte does it on her own. he lets out a choked breath as she nuzzles his cheek. even though drogon is aware, in some aspect or another, that this is a dream her touch feels real. the truth is he doesn't know who he is. he is drogon, he is roarke, he is the jackal, he is the wintersbane. he is all of his masks, exchanged and employed as necessary; he is a thespian and the world is his grand stage ...and it feels like it's too soon to retire from it. there was more to life then what he's 'settled' for...out of loyalty, out of affection. it made sense that drogon, who'd been playing a part since he was a small boy, when he's asked, wound up unable to tell charon who he was, tell him things about him. he didn't know. "i'll find myself, mama." but he wasn't going to do it as he was now.

the sacrifices he'd been weighing for a few days now became, abruptly, worth it. "i promise." he breathes, pressing his nose against her plush fur.