Daenerys' touch felt almost cool, at first, as both of her hands took the one he offered to her. Perhaps that was because of the slightly thicker material of his tunic, or maybe it was because he felt almost nervous, baring his skin for her like this. He wasn't entirely sure what she might think--would she look at him in disgust? No, he knew. Yet he wasn't sure he wanted the pity, either; still, he couldn't quite detail what it was he craved from her.
Her fingertips followed the harrowed lines, the patchwork of scars, and Jorah found himself watching her face, instead of her movements. Her eyes looked wide and curious, and a weight he hadn't realized had settled in his chest seemed to lessen, if only for a moment. There was no disgust there, no sense of horror. There was a kindness, in the way she rolled his sleeve back down, and Jorah found himself offering her a breathless sort of smile, full of relief.
He knew that there was no chance. Now, more than ever, as she inched closer and closer to the throne. He had spent most of his time in isolation reassuring himself of the fact: even if he died, he had done all that he could do, and his romantic yearnings would never be returned.
But still, some part of him...
"I shall be happy to see that day," Jorah said with another smile. He could only imagined how flustered Samwell would get about it. With his arms clasped at his back again, they continued moving down the beach, some, and Jorah's gaze wandered to the movement of their feet.
"Tell me of the dragons." He knew that would help cheer her up, some; she loved to talk about her children. "How have they been faring?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-06-23 12:31 pm (UTC)Her fingertips followed the harrowed lines, the patchwork of scars, and Jorah found himself watching her face, instead of her movements. Her eyes looked wide and curious, and a weight he hadn't realized had settled in his chest seemed to lessen, if only for a moment. There was no disgust there, no sense of horror. There was a kindness, in the way she rolled his sleeve back down, and Jorah found himself offering her a breathless sort of smile, full of relief.
He knew that there was no chance. Now, more than ever, as she inched closer and closer to the throne. He had spent most of his time in isolation reassuring himself of the fact: even if he died, he had done all that he could do, and his romantic yearnings would never be returned.
But still, some part of him...
"I shall be happy to see that day," Jorah said with another smile. He could only imagined how flustered Samwell would get about it. With his arms clasped at his back again, they continued moving down the beach, some, and Jorah's gaze wandered to the movement of their feet.
"Tell me of the dragons." He knew that would help cheer her up, some; she loved to talk about her children. "How have they been faring?"