I did. And it was. [Koby’s marveled over that himself, the relative ease with which he’d gotten the typewriter, embarrassingly-decorated as it is. It still works, the clicking of the keys steady and unflinching – and he quite likes the sound, the soft pattering like rainfall.
He starts it up now, flicking the power button and feeding a piece of paper into the typewriter, then beginning to type. Perhaps there’s a touch of showing off – Koby had been clumsy and unpracticed when he first arrived, but months of typing up notes has him able to hit the keys without looking, glancing over the top at Aemond instead.] Too loud? I have a lot of handwritten notes to type up, so I hope you don’t mind if I multi-task.
[Then, after a momentary pause, watching Aemond straighten the notes:] The smaller pages are handwritten – could you help me separate them out, maybe? I didn’t bring anything confidential, I don’t mind if you read them.
[Either he’d spotted and discerned exactly what Aemond wanted to do, or he genuinely wants the help; either way, Koby pulls a handwritten page outlining the second round of werewolf voting out of a stack, starting to rapidly type it up.] I don’t like sweet things either. I’m used to ship rations, they tend to be pretty bland and flavorless.
Mmm, first question… [Another piece of paper, this time pulled out of his pocket, set on the opposite side of the typewriter, so Aemond can’t peek.] The dragons – are they attached to the throne or the Targaryen family? Which came first?
[ with a task given and a question spoken, aemond gets right to work. he's always his most settled when he has something to do with his hands, and this is no different. ]
You ask two questions, Koby, [ he counters with a small smile, but he allows it for now. the sheaf of papers is re-shuffled and quickly sorted, aemond even taking a moment to arrange them according to the order of the texts. he's quick to do it, and quick to read the sheets as he does. ]
Dragons were born, according to legend, from a moon breaking in half up in the sky, fire spilling out and down and with them the first dragons to roam the known world. The sheep herders of Valyria came upon these dragons, and formed a bond with them. Together the dragons and their riders conquered the lands of Essos, bringing to rise the kingdom of Valyria of old. It was a kingdom of kings, who ruled the continent with great power and claimed for itself great wealth.
Then the Doom came, burning the sky a second time, and left remaining was our family and our dragons. The last of Old Valyria, and of the great dragonlords. From a dream, our ancestors looked to the west to conquer new lands - to Westeros - and brought forth a new kingdom. From the ashes of the conquered lands, the Seven Kingdoms rose under the Targaryen crown.
My dragon, Vhagar, was among the dragons that flew across the sea to rain fire upon the Westerosi kingdoms in conquest.
Two inextricable questions. [Koby watches Aemond work for a moment with a quietly bemused half-smile, before returning to typing up his notes. The stack of typed and handwritten notes tell an odd story -- prior to October, Koby was in the habit of jotting down observations in the moment, usually in messy shorthand or bullet-pointed lists, though he's careful to date everything so he knows if they're firsthand accounts or things he found out later. However, immediately after the account of Embry's death, the notes stop entirely, until the night of the Otherworld party, when a list of the guests attending is jotted on the back of a napkin. Nothing written during the actual game, aside from an elaborate spreadsheet of everyone's names and what he'd known about their roles.
This, Koby quickly reaches over and pulls from the stack, sticking it back into his bag.] Sorry. Forgot that was -- in there. [Then, refocusing:] You mentioned dragons live a very long time. Still, if Vhagar flew with your ancestors to conquer the kingdoms, she must be on the older side. Had she had riders before you?
[Typing for a moment -- a new page now, this one noting down Aemond's words nearly verbatim.] That's more than even just two questions. Do you mean what do I do or do I like it or my day-to-day or my society or geography or something else completely? [The name "Vhagar" is spelled correctly, against all odds -- Koby's see a family tree and is fairly familiarized with the naming customs of Targaryens -- though "Westerosi" has an "e" added to the end.] I guess in broad strokes, it's much better recently than it was for the first two years I was at sea. I grew up on an island, I only left when I was sixteen.
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He starts it up now, flicking the power button and feeding a piece of paper into the typewriter, then beginning to type. Perhaps there’s a touch of showing off – Koby had been clumsy and unpracticed when he first arrived, but months of typing up notes has him able to hit the keys without looking, glancing over the top at Aemond instead.] Too loud? I have a lot of handwritten notes to type up, so I hope you don’t mind if I multi-task.
[Then, after a momentary pause, watching Aemond straighten the notes:] The smaller pages are handwritten – could you help me separate them out, maybe? I didn’t bring anything confidential, I don’t mind if you read them.
[Either he’d spotted and discerned exactly what Aemond wanted to do, or he genuinely wants the help; either way, Koby pulls a handwritten page outlining the second round of werewolf voting out of a stack, starting to rapidly type it up.] I don’t like sweet things either. I’m used to ship rations, they tend to be pretty bland and flavorless.
Mmm, first question… [Another piece of paper, this time pulled out of his pocket, set on the opposite side of the typewriter, so Aemond can’t peek.] The dragons – are they attached to the throne or the Targaryen family? Which came first?
no subject
You ask two questions, Koby, [ he counters with a small smile, but he allows it for now. the sheaf of papers is re-shuffled and quickly sorted, aemond even taking a moment to arrange them according to the order of the texts. he's quick to do it, and quick to read the sheets as he does. ]
Dragons were born, according to legend, from a moon breaking in half up in the sky, fire spilling out and down and with them the first dragons to roam the known world. The sheep herders of Valyria came upon these dragons, and formed a bond with them. Together the dragons and their riders conquered the lands of Essos, bringing to rise the kingdom of Valyria of old. It was a kingdom of kings, who ruled the continent with great power and claimed for itself great wealth.
Then the Doom came, burning the sky a second time, and left remaining was our family and our dragons. The last of Old Valyria, and of the great dragonlords. From a dream, our ancestors looked to the west to conquer new lands - to Westeros - and brought forth a new kingdom. From the ashes of the conquered lands, the Seven Kingdoms rose under the Targaryen crown.
My dragon, Vhagar, was among the dragons that flew across the sea to rain fire upon the Westerosi kingdoms in conquest.
[ it should answer sufficiently. ]
What is your life like, at sea?
no subject
This, Koby quickly reaches over and pulls from the stack, sticking it back into his bag.] Sorry. Forgot that was -- in there. [Then, refocusing:] You mentioned dragons live a very long time. Still, if Vhagar flew with your ancestors to conquer the kingdoms, she must be on the older side. Had she had riders before you?
[Typing for a moment -- a new page now, this one noting down Aemond's words nearly verbatim.] That's more than even just two questions. Do you mean what do I do or do I like it or my day-to-day or my society or geography or something else completely? [The name "Vhagar" is spelled correctly, against all odds -- Koby's see a family tree and is fairly familiarized with the naming customs of Targaryens -- though "Westerosi" has an "e" added to the end.] I guess in broad strokes, it's much better recently than it was for the first two years I was at sea. I grew up on an island, I only left when I was sixteen.