When you think of something that makes sense to you, but will not make sense to others (eg. The deep sky beneath your feet, a breathing flame above your eyes) write it down.
In the most gripping of these works, the plug is a dragon-like creature that breathes flame from fraying wires.
Charismatic or charlatan, depending on your point of view (the predictably hostile Saint Jerome later claimed that he "fanned a lighted straw in his mouth so that he appeared to be breathing out flames"), he commanded a force that was at first a match for the Romans.
This non-lethal spray makes contact with the bears mucous membranes and causes an unbelievable blinding pain, like hot pokers in the eyes, combined with a desperate choking feeling like breathing in flames.
If you were human, I'd risk offending you by saying this, but you're anything but, so who cares: on behalf of my particular faction of "Game of Thrones" fans — the Littlefinger enthusiasts, the Tarly-ites, the supporters of the Targaryen restoration — I hope that, in the season finale this Sunday, Dany flies to Hardhome on Drogon and has him breathe C.G.I. flames on you and everything you inhabit.
They can breathe intense flames that can melt any material, but will never torch a weaker foe.
In a final scene that many of us expected, we see dead soldiers marching, led by White Walkers on creepy horses, and our icky uptown dragon, the newly blue-eyed Viserion, flaps in and breathes blue flame on the Wall, like some kind of supercharged York Peppermint Pattie commercial.
The two stove tenders' faces and chests reddened rhythmically from the flames; their breathing and the rising and falling of their chests, too, had a rhythmic quality, though both required adjustments and extra control.
