usir | Event #2: The Long Night

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🜙 Event Post #2: The Long Night, December 28th to January 5th Warning: Death and violence

	Nervous, frightened whispers spread across Idan. By word of mouth and courier, warnings that the Long Night has nearly arrived are sent out. Anasta's Shadow, the planet whose orbit lies between this one and its sun, will share a path with this planet for one week before they go their separate ways once more. During that time the far larger planet obscures the light and warmth the sun provides this world. This is nothing new to you. It has happened every year at this time since your birth and although the cold is treacherous and the dark inconvenient, in your time those were likely the only major threats you faced during the Long Night. The great dragon bonfires had always been kept lit by the trio of dragon guardians, their light and warmth keeping away the deadly freeze and the other horrors rumored to come with the darkness. Perhaps you remember the tales from your childhood, stories meant to scare children away from venturing too far on their own in the treacherous heart of winter. The long, cold week of darkness was likely filled with stories of people whisked away in the black cold, either never to be seen again or to be found mangled and frozen with looks of terror and agony forever etched on their lifeless faces. With the dragons ever present in your lifetime, you had never experienced the true horrors of the Long Night for yourself, even if you had witnessed a taste out in the world beyond the safety of the kingdom cities and villages. The true terror of the Long Night had not been experienced in full since the formation of the Elf-Dragon Alliance, many generations before your birth. The massive bonfires kept ever burning by the guardian dragons kept the towns and cities across all three kingdoms protected from the sheer dark and the deadly deep freeze of the week-long total eclipse. Now that the dragons are gone there is simply not enough magic to create the powerful, lasting bonfires that once sheltered the three kingdoms and kept out the dark and the worst of the cold. From the warmth and safety of a hearth, it is easy to dismiss the frightened whispers of Idan's current population as superstition, at least until the sun 'sets' on the night of the 27th, swallowed behind the looming shadow of the larger planet. As night approaches on the 27th, the world goes red. Only slivers of sunlight escape around the far edge of Anasta's Shadow, bathing the world in an eerie crimson until the planet's massive shape in the sky blocks out the sun entirely, plunging Idan into near complete shadow. With the light consumed, the shrieks and howls begin. Starting up like the roar of an angry wind, they grow louder and more twisted the closer they come. Within hours the howls and shrieks are mixed with a sound like metal grinding across glass. Windows are covered in sheets of cracked and spidered ice. Chimneys without lit fires begin to fill with screeching, clawing noises and an unsettling and unfamiliar clicking noise that rises and falls like an unknown language. The sounds outside begin to shift and change, as more human shrieks join the unsettlingly monstrous ones, and the crying sob of a young child, hiccuping in fear, breaks up the brief moments of silence. It's just beyond the door, or just out of sight beside the window, then silence, and the howling and scraping start anew. Now and then an eerie red glow shines through ever more solid ice caking the windows, and they briefly steam up as something living exhales a heated breath against the pane. Citizens within earshot or courier distance warn those who seek answers to stay away and avoid seeking out the source of the sounds. They caution that the answers are not worth the risks and warn that anyone outside cannot be saved. If they're out there, they're already dead. If you insist on going, they'll tell you not to leave the safety of hearth and fire without a torch in hand or your chances of surviving will drop from slim to none. Pay heed to the cautions of those more experienced than you in this new horror or you will not survive the long, harsh night and the ever more unsettling noises it brings.
🜙 Weather

	The cold fluctuates between -18 to -32C (0 to -25F) during the Long Night. At these temperatures, the risk of frostbite and hypothermia are greatly increased and without proper precautions, a person could experience frostbite in 10-30 minutes when exposed to the elements. In addition to this, wind, sleet, and snow periodically drop the temperatures further. The weather may be the least of your worries, however, as the cold is far from the most dangerous threat the Long Night brings with it.
🜙 Creatures

	The creatures that emerge during the Long Night are nearly all horrors rarely or never seen beyond this week of frozen darkness. The only exceptions to this are the Tundra Manticore and the Greater Bearbat which can be rarely found living in the highest points of the mountain caves and peaks where the weather remains icy year-long. Tundra Manticore: They share little in common with their lower mountain counterparts beyond their violent disposition. Their bodies glow from within due to the venom stored in their abdomen. They can secrete this deadly venom from their mouths or their barbed tails. The venom is said to burn like liquid fire and causes severe burns on contact. They live only in the coldest parts of Idan due to the significant heat generated by their venom that would cook them from the inside out in warmer climates. They consume ice and snow to maintain an internal temperature balance and if that balance is thrown off the combustible venom within them causes them to burst into flames. As a result, they are terrified of fire. They are silent stalkers and lone hunters. Greater Bearbat: Greater Bearbats are sound-based hunters that descend from their mountain homes, attracted by the shrieks of the shade imps. They are indiscriminate hunters, content to eat wayward travelers or other monsters without concern for what prey they catch in their long claws. They run on four limbs while hunting and will rarely take to the skies unless in pursuit of flying prey. Sound and heat deter them and light will blind them. Shade Imps: Seekers and servants of the Darkener, these monstrous shade imps can take a multitude of forms (Crawlers, Scouts, & Hounds) and shift between them at will. They are completely blind and travel as silent as the shadows they melt in and out of. They hunt through scent, sound, and taste, searching for traces of blood and fear on the air. When they aren't hunting, they communicate with other imps via ear-piercing shrieks or gut-churning howls, going silent only when they locate their prey. Their silence is more dangerous than the sounds they make. They recoil from fire but grow increasingly more determined the longer they are kept at bay, eventually overcoming their fear and attacking the source of the fire to attempt to extinguish it at the cost of their own lives. When fire touches them they go up in a puff of black smoke and a scream. Darkling: No one knows what darklings look like. They are the lost spirits of elementals consumed and controlled by the Darkener. They have no physical form and can control and manipulate shadows and sound. They mimic sounds to trick people into opening their homes or venturing out of safety and can perfectly replicate any sound they have heard, even capturing the voices of people speaking on the other side of walls. Their goal is to lure or force people out into the darkness where the Darkener can find them. They can be disrupted with light. Bayobat: Swarms of flying bat-like insects summoned by the Darkener. They have sharp, metal proboscises they use to pierce victims before consuming their blood. They are blind and seek out warm-blooded bodies to launch themselves at. Their screeches are metallic and mixed with insectoid clicking. Their bodies are sharp and metallic but their mouths are vulnerable. Their tails are lined with tiny, sharp spikes similar to barbed wire. They fear fire. The Darkener: An ancient being that is thought to come from the Outer Realm. The Darkener consumes flames with a touch, transforming them into shadow flames that burn black, giving off no heat or warmth. It possesses long-forgotten magic. Few have seen more than a glimpse. It causes temporary blindness in all who witness it, their eyes turning black with trapped shadows. Its image lingers in the mind, causing hallucinations. Those who witness it are often driven mad, growing increasingly certain the Darkener is watching them from the corner of their vision. It can be struck but doing so only causes darkness to erupt from the wound, consuming the Darkener and everything around it. There is only one Darkener.

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(Greener pastures means trying to settle on the next best thing: a white wolf.)

Her arms wind around his neck and she's returning those kisses with just as much eagerness. A burning need, really, far worse than any flame she's conjured. She doesn't think about the past, then--he banishes every thought she has. The threat of the Long Night, the wandering aimlessness she's dealt with the last two days, why she's returned, and how he's here.

"Today. We arrived a few hours ago." She stops kissing him long enough to meet his eyes. Her lashes and cheeks remain damp, but at least there aren't any tears. "What are you doing here? How long have you--"

And now her brows furrow. How is he here?

"A few weeks, in this city and other places." Then, he drops the volume of his voice and murmurs into her ear, "You came from the marsh flats? I did too."

He's spent so much time these last weeks thinking she was dead and hoping against hope that she wasn't that the confirmation that she was -- the presence of the little creature, too -- both bothers him and doesn't. What did she suffer after he fell?

She doesn't seem to realize that he fell. Didn't she see it happen?

"I thought -- you must have lived out your life, that maybe you had married someone else. But if you woke up there, then -- "

Meanwhile, Ghost is sniffing the little red panda again, and takes a playful stance, as if he's likely to pounce.

Irriella lifts her paws with a squeak, slapping them on the floor before she somersaults closer to the wolf. Her striped tail thumps on the floor.

Her ear twitches again, his breath a warm gust of air against it. She gives one sharp nod in answer. Yes, the marsh flats. But that means if he came from there, if he has his own companion like she does...

Dany leans back, half incredulous, half pained as her mind flits back to those last moments of her life.

"Even if I did, you expected me to marry someone else?" She shakes her head, affectionately exasperated, now. An arm drops from around his neck as she reaches between them and into her cloak, pulling out the strange courier. "Do you have this, as well?"

Are we the same? is what she wants to know.

He nods quickly, looking as pained as she does.

"I didn't want you to, I just -- I thought maybe you survived it all, and that you found some way to be happy. I couldn't have hoped for anything else. But without seeing you, there was no way to be sure."

Now, here she is, in his arms. There is no reason to mourn her anymore. It's a habit he's developed that he'll have to break.

"And aye, I have it. Strange messages now and then."

With him here, it seems unnecessary to speak of those last few moments in an old and clearly dead war. Did he fall in the charge? Was he able to escape, only to fall in another battle?

"I was only ever happy with you." A soft, gentle chide, gentled further by another kiss. It's hesitation which stays her words, has her considering them so carefully. "We didn't make it far."

She might've died before he did. Who would know?

"Strange messages?" She fingers hers, considering it, then tucks it away. "Mine gave me a warning."

That gets him nodding again, looking terribly apologetic. There is such joy in seeing her that it's almost heartbreaking in itself. These weeks, he hasn't been able to make much sense of why he was back, who would want him, what his greater purpose might be. He has been grateful to be alive, but doubtful that he should be.

The idea that it's another chance for them hits him like a cavalry charge.

He says into her ear, "Messages from Logistykon for some, Epithimetykon for others. Mayhap Thymoeides, too, but I can't be sure. Speaking of the truth, of answers. But people say they're long dead."

Before letting her respond, he pulls back, looks at her, and falls to kissing her again.

"Do you have a room? We should go to it, or to mine."

Sneaky man. He could whisper gibberish in her ear and she'd still lean into him as she does. Difficult to concentrate on what he's saying when his voice is so deep against her ear, just the hint of something scruffy to it. Always reminding her of a wolf, he is.

But there's something to what he says, a curiosity. There's a question in her eyes, hovering on her tongue when she meets his gaze. If the dragons are dead, how can they speak?

No time to ask it, can only think it, because he's kissing her again. She reaches up to cup his cheek, tightening her arm around his neck, momentarily forgetting what they were speaking of. She'd have to relearn the softness of his lips, the taste of him on her tongue, the noises he makes when her fingers dance along his body. One step at a time.

"I don't have a room yet." A little slow, dazed as she blinks a few times and looks up at him again. "The innkeeper agreed to let me stay if I brought some meat back."

There's no question of them staying in separate rooms tonight, or for a while. Back in the days long gone, they could and did spend time apart, and they may again in days to come. But not tonight.

"Hold here," he says quietly. "Stay with Ghost. I'll talk to the innkeep.”

If it were Gilly, it would be easier: she wouldn’t care where Dany was staying, or where Jon was staying, so long as they lent their aid to her holdings. Here at the Immortal Duke (which one, he wonders), they want a different sort of aid, one that can’t be performed easily on the premises. He explains the situation to the proprietor, who has been eyeing them knowingly anyway: his betrothed, not expected here tonight, to share his room. They’ve been apart for a while and don’t wish to be apart again. He adds another of the furs he’s hunted to the tally of what the room will cost, and some meat, and arranges for some wine and cheese to be brought up to them.

Finally, it's settled, and he crosses the common room. "We can go upstairs."

What he has in mind isn’t lovemaking, or at least not only that: they can’t speak freely in the common room, and whispering will quickly grow tiresome.

Ghost. Her gaze lowers to the white wolf nearby whilst Jon goes to speak with the innkeeper. And she ducks to a crouch, which is instant invitation for both animals to come over to her. Irriella pounces from Ghost and scrambles up Dany's leg, nudging a cold nose against her stomach. Ghost trots over, earning himself a few strokes to his head and scruff like she might've done to Jon. All the while, Jon never leaves her line of sight.

"So handsome," she can be heard saying to Ghost. "Such a sweetling."

One last scratch behind the ears and she lugs Irriella up into her arms and turns to her wolf, once he's back. He's really here. Really alive. This isn't something she's imagined--though truth be told, she's had little time to imagine much of anything these last few days.

"I could have helped," she murmurs once they begin toward the staircase. To any listening or watching, it's 'domestic' bickering. What it really is, however, is a chide and a thank you, both shoddy at best, because she's making sure that they're touching or she's watching him the entire way to his room. "You didn't have to give what you have."

When he turns back to Dany, he’s amused to find her crouched in front of Ghost, scratching behind his ear and calling him handsome and sweet. And then they’re proceeding to the room he'd taken earlier in the evening.

"It’s all right. I have more; I’ve had longer to get it. You can return the favor another time." How could he expect her to pay when she’s only been alive for a few days? When she was dead before this?

They climb the stairs together, the creatures with them, and at the top, he takes her hand.

"This way." And then they’re unlocking the door, and in the room, and he turns to her, looking totally disarmed.

"Not a home, but better than the cold." The fire is cheery and warm.

He takes her hand, and she twines their fingers. It's both short and long a walk to his room, a breath of time where her mind races and her heart speeds ahead of those thoughts, a thunder in her ears. Of all the places to find one another, it's near a city of ruins. Why is he here? And what's this about dead dragons whispering?

That look of his is gentle and sweet, and it has her toeing the door shut behind them and walking those few steps to catch him in a hug. A tight and desperate hug, arms around his neck. Irriella's long since leapt from her hold.

He's all she sees. All she ever did, all she ever would.

"You really thought I'd marry another?"

She presses her face to his neck. It's not a home, but anywhere with him could be one.

Did he? He'd feared she might have, he'd hoped she hadn’t, but there was a selfishness in that, one that didn’t sit any easier with him than the idea that she might have been frightened or in pain.

“I wanted to think that if I wasn’t with you, you might still have been happy, in the end.”

But he realizes it wasn’t really a question, and for a long moment, he rests and holds her and breathes her in. She doesn’t smell like a century in the mire, or a dead thing brought back to life, some kind of abomination: she smells only like herself.

The two little animals examine the room, Ghost sniffing into all the corners. When it seems acceptable, he sits close to the fire, looking at Irriella.

So he thought her being married would bring her happiness? Oh, this man. For however much his brilliance often shines, he can be so foolishly silly, sometimes.

"I married for duty once." If one could call being sold off by her brother as a duty.

The tension in her bleeds away the longer they stand like this. He's familiar in all the ways she recalls, even up to his little twisted half-bun. If there were any way to make the transition to this life easier, whoever brought her back had granted it by having them cross paths tonight. She's no intentions of leaving his side for any reason in the foreseeable future.

Whilst Jon and Dany hug, Irriella pads after Ghost, huff-quacking once or twice when she gets close enough to the wolf.

“All right. All right,” he murmurs into her hair. Likely, if she had lived longer than she had, she might not have spent the rest of her life mourning him. He had been able to move past Ygritte's death. But he and Ygritte hadn’t loved each other in quite the same way that he and Dany do; it had been true, but it had been calf's love.

It isn’t something he and Daenerys need to think on any further, because except for these last few weeks, they haven’t had to live without each other at all. Now that they’re alone, he moves back to the other topic, still holding her. All he wants to do is hold her like this.

"The dragons are dead. Their bodies, their skeletons, aren’t hard to find. But the messages we got... I met a woman who had the same one I did, from Logistykon, and I shared a room with a man, beastfolk, who got a different one, said it was from Epithimetykon."

On to the other topic of interest. The dragons always held a special place in her heart, despite the wars which erupted in their presence. She is the blood of the dragon, after all. When he speaks of these messages, she leans back far enough to look up at him.

"How do any of you know it was them speaking?" The message she'd received was growled, granted, but that didn't mean it was a dragon speaking with her.

“We don’t, only that it was someone who was claiming to be. The dragons fought each other. Why would they send out messages at the same time now?” He shakes his head: he doesn’t know. "And there were other messages, too. Darker."

Her brows continue to furrow. If their corpses remained, why would they?

"What did your message say?" Hers came with a warning. There was nothing dark about it. They'd even called her a child. "And the darker ones?"

“It said to keep looking for answers. The darker ones... it's hard to say. Nothing I understood."

Another shake of his head, and a long look at her.

“Gods, but it’s good to see you.”

"Answers to what?"

All of that makes little sense to her. Dragons, dragon impostors, warnings on their couriers. Even their little companions were a mystery to her, despite it proving that there were more of them out there. More revived for whatever reason.

She huffs, half annoyed at being so far behind on everything. And then she's drawn back to him, meeting his gaze, an unspoken question in her eyes before he speaks.

"Only because you know no one can give you a good scratch like I can," she gravely says, even managing a forlorn look. For a second. It gives way to a bright smile as she leans in to kiss him again.

“Why we're here, I think."

But then she goes on to tease him, and he meets her forlorn look with a humorously reproachful one.

How easy it is to feel lighter with her, now that she’s here. He can’t pretend that his death never happened, or hers, and he’s not keen yet on asking her for the more concrete details of it; he doesn’t like to think of what it felt like to be pierced by so many blades in such a short time. So he kisses her.

“A good scratch,” he murmurs, dubious. He wouldn’t like to joke about what he is, but she’s always known, and she’s always loved him in spite of it. “I like your nails in my back.”

Better to think on the whys later; she'd help him search for those answers. Her curiosity will demand it sooner or later. Answers would come then, like how long he'd walked these lands without her, when he fell in battle--all the blank spots in her mind would be filled so she understood... but that would also require remembering... and she doesn't want to do that, yet.

Her smile grows and grows, until her cheeks hurt and she's chuckling warmly at his look. It's not the angry one where his eyes go dark and his cheeks seem to puff up. This one's just silly.

In the middle of their kiss, she'll playfully nip his bottom lip. She knows she's flirting with the wolf by doing that and does it anyway, because he's hers. All of him.

"Mn, i don't know which that one's in reference to." More teasing, but also some truth: could be when she's dragging her nails down his back when they're both in bed, or when he's shifted and being a lazy wolf.

He kisses her more aggressively.

“Bite me again like that, and you'll know.”

He meant the former, although the latter is not unpleasant.

"Is that a promise?" she asks, a touch breathless.

He'll have no time to answer, for she's chasing after his kiss. Hand cupping his cheek, head tilting so she can better lick into his mouth, drag her tongue against his. The soft, wet squeak of one kiss ending and another beginning is all she hears, because she keeps kissing him. Until their lips are sore, and their lungs scream for air. And when she's dizzy off him, she'll drag her teeth intentionally slow against his bottom lip as she leans back to catch her breath.

She knows it is... and if she doesn’t, the way they each meet the kiss should be an answer.

He holds her tightly, warmly, as they each try to catch their breath. It rattles him. It’s only been a few weeks since they saw each other, and decades.

"We'll be here for days, they say. Though I’ve a mind to — “

He tugs her towards the bed to sit. Just then, there's a sharp rap at the door, and with an apologetic look, he answers it. Ghost raises his head to see what Jon is doing. It's one of the innkeeps, with a tray with some bread and cheese and cups and a bottle. Jon takes the tray, sets it on the little table, shuts the door behind him.

“Where was I? The Long Night.”

Dizzy and dazed. That's how he leaves her to go answer the door. She's enough mind to her to track his movements, to lean forward just enough to see who is here to bother them. Can't be one of their friends. Not if she's just come back and he's been here. No, if enough time's passed where the dragons are dead, that happened long after she and Jon died. Which means their friends, they all--cornered, golden masked men lunging forward, the wet sound of skin and fabric tearing, blood and innards splattering to the dirt--she swallows thickly. Looks away. Squeezes her eyes tightly shut against the sudden heat and dampness in them.

Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah, Barristan...

Irriella whines, a low, pitiful sound. No longer relaxed against Ghost, she looks uncomfortable and upset. In pain, even.

Dany's on her hands and knees an instant later, crawling over to the two animals just as Jon is setting the tray down. The red panda tries to claw her way against Dany's chest, where she seems to prefer to rest. By the time Jon's back in the room, she's one arm around Irriella, and one hand buried in Ghost's scruff. Her expression is pleasant, even if her eyes are a little sad.

"Days, you said. It was never bad before, we had the bonfires."

Event #2: The Long Night

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CW gross couple stuff, sfw but spare yourselves

just don't look it's terrible i vomited

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cw: mentions of violence/gore

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