I. HEROPA ( There's a sensory overload in merely existing in this place. The colours, the noise, the metal monsters careening down roads rather than carriages—and to compensate, she forces herself to close her eyes, count to ten and indulge in being heartily annoyed at how frizzy this humidity has rendered her hair. When Myrcella's green eyes open again to take in the sights again, it's just slightly less overwhelming before. Primarily because she is mentally stamping out the hysteria attempting to well in her.
It smells unpleasant here, differently from when the wind blew in off Blackwater Bay. But nevertheless disgusting.
She takes a walk, trying to find quieter pockets of town, and even gets to admire clothing in one of the shops she passes by. Only for that one, lone scrap of peace to be snatched away from her by the sound of shouting. Common sense would dictate she not investigate, but she cannot ignore the possibility that someone may be in distress. Though the manner of distress is entirely flabbergasting when she rounds a corner to see a woman yelling at several brightly-clad individuals.
The thief is long gone, and still the trio spouts nonsense about who they are and what they intend. Myrcella moves to stand behind them, effecting as stern and fierce a look as she might. )
Are you certain you are not mummers? You should be ashamed of yourselves! Either assist this lady at once, or I shall report you to the city guard.
II. DE CHIMA ( This city dwarfs the other in size by far, and the humidity is still an ever-present annoyance. However, it is cooler here than it had been in Heropa, and rainier besides. By the time Myrcella finds her way into the bar, she is drenched from head to toe. She wrings the water from her hair, and moves to take a seat. However when she asks for a cup of mead, she is stunned by the bartender's reply that she is underage. )
Pardon me, but what else would there be to drink, then? Wine? Surely not the water! Mead has never harmed me since childhood, sir.
( The bartender rolls his eyes and curtly informs her again that she's too young to drink. The seems to elate a woman beside her, who turns to pepper her with questions. Pink is her favourite colour, she favours the open water and sailing, and her smallclothes are nobody's business, thank-you-very-much.
Should someone come to rescue her from this interview/interrogation, she will shoot them a grateful look. )
My thanks. Do you know what might be appropriate for someone nineteen summers old to drink here?
IV. NONAH ( Put off straight-away by the noise of the nightclubs and scandalous attire of their patrons, Myrcella prefers to explore a little. She has a healthy snack of yogurt and granola she's tried and found herself delighted by, and she enjoys little bites of it as she strolls through the city. The clatter of the metal monster which runs through the middle of the city is deafening, but that does not seem to bother the local wildlife.
In a bit of greenspace she finds that she is not the only one to cherish the distance from the hubbub and the sight of growing things. Little creatures which are larger than mice but more charming than rats scamper about. And one stands not far from her, sniffing the air delicately as it stands on its hind legs.
The sight is enough for her to let out a bubbly little laugh, and she plucks a handful of granola from her container and holds out the palm of her hand. )
Myrcella Baratheon β’ Game of Thrones
( There's a sensory overload in merely existing in this place. The colours, the noise, the metal monsters careening down roads rather than carriages—and to compensate, she forces herself to close her eyes, count to ten and indulge in being heartily annoyed at how frizzy this humidity has rendered her hair. When Myrcella's green eyes open again to take in the sights again, it's just slightly less overwhelming before. Primarily because she is mentally stamping out the hysteria attempting to well in her.
It smells unpleasant here, differently from when the wind blew in off Blackwater Bay. But nevertheless disgusting.
She takes a walk, trying to find quieter pockets of town, and even gets to admire clothing in one of the shops she passes by. Only for that one, lone scrap of peace to be snatched away from her by the sound of shouting. Common sense would dictate she not investigate, but she cannot ignore the possibility that someone may be in distress. Though the manner of distress is entirely flabbergasting when she rounds a corner to see a woman yelling at several brightly-clad individuals.
The thief is long gone, and still the trio spouts nonsense about who they are and what they intend. Myrcella moves to stand behind them, effecting as stern and fierce a look as she might. )
Are you certain you are not mummers? You should be ashamed of yourselves! Either assist this lady at once, or I shall report you to the city guard.
II. DE CHIMA
( This city dwarfs the other in size by far, and the humidity is still an ever-present annoyance. However, it is cooler here than it had been in Heropa, and rainier besides. By the time Myrcella finds her way into the bar, she is drenched from head to toe. She wrings the water from her hair, and moves to take a seat. However when she asks for a cup of mead, she is stunned by the bartender's reply that she is underage. )
Pardon me, but what else would there be to drink, then? Wine? Surely not the water! Mead has never harmed me since childhood, sir.
( The bartender rolls his eyes and curtly informs her again that she's too young to drink. The seems to elate a woman beside her, who turns to pepper her with questions. Pink is her favourite colour, she favours the open water and sailing, and her smallclothes are nobody's business, thank-you-very-much.
Should someone come to rescue her from this interview/interrogation, she will shoot them a grateful look. )
My thanks. Do you know what might be appropriate for someone nineteen summers old to drink here?
IV. NONAH
( Put off straight-away by the noise of the nightclubs and scandalous attire of their patrons, Myrcella prefers to explore a little. She has a healthy snack of yogurt and granola she's tried and found herself delighted by, and she enjoys little bites of it as she strolls through the city. The clatter of the metal monster which runs through the middle of the city is deafening, but that does not seem to bother the local wildlife.
In a bit of greenspace she finds that she is not the only one to cherish the distance from the hubbub and the sight of growing things. Little creatures which are larger than mice but more charming than rats scamper about. And one stands not far from her, sniffing the air delicately as it stands on its hind legs.
The sight is enough for her to let out a bubbly little laugh, and she plucks a handful of granola from her container and holds out the palm of her hand. )
Are you hungry, too, little one?