[The moment when Jon lets go, panic floods into Daenerys' veins. She shifts uncertainly on her feet, as if coming out of a drunken stupor -- and then his hand is back upon her. It feels like being caught while falling, and the dragon grips the ground a little tighter. Her warble is brief and nervous.
But once Jon is on her back, she feels comfortable moving again. She can breathe, she can get her bearings. A piece of her wants to lie back down, the way they had melted to the floor inside of the simulation. But now was not the time, nor the place.
Her gratitude is faint, underneath the dragon's adrenaline, but it is there.
Her shoulders shift, helping to seat him in place before she starts to walk forward with purpose, step by step, muscles rippling.]
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But once Jon is on her back, she feels comfortable moving again. She can breathe, she can get her bearings. A piece of her wants to lie back down, the way they had melted to the floor inside of the simulation. But now was not the time, nor the place.
Her gratitude is faint, underneath the dragon's adrenaline, but it is there.
Her shoulders shift, helping to seat him in place before she starts to walk forward with purpose, step by step, muscles rippling.]