Open Chronicles A Diplomatic Ball

[Caliane Ruinë]

To this woman who had trained, no doubt for a lifetime, to become the warrior she was, Caliane probably seemed no more than a child - despite the years on paper implying the reverse. The avariel found her mouth turning dry and the words of the battles she had fought in seizing in her throat. Surely, she thought, they would just reveal the glaring holes of her inexperience and recklessness. She struggled in that moment not to wince as she remembered Bhatharik and the destruction her decision had caused to the city even if it had also saved it. Had she been more experienced then she would have known a way to perhaps defeat the monster without almost killing herself in the process.

Her father had certainly had opinions on the matter.

“Perhaps, but certainly not like the stories I’ve heard of your order. I’m not sure I have the stomach for this line of work to be what occupies my whole life,” certainly not hundreds of years of it. How had Tal ever done so? In that moment she realised why he had retreated so much from the world. And there she was trying to bring him back into it!

“I would be interested to hear about the Eldyr Tree… I recently came across something I couldn’t explain in a town not far from there… if I was superstitious I would have called them Dark Gods.”

 

[Helena]

Helena's smile was all the more solemn as she heard Caliane speak. Helena bowed her head, acknowledging the respect Caliane paid to those who made the Order's history. "I don't think any of us do, to tell it true," she admitted, a sadness there in her voice.

But like all life, Helena, young and short lived as she was, understood that life was more than just the trials and tribulations that came with duty, and the call to action.

What came next, however, caught her off guard. "Oh?" she sounded at mention of the Eldyr tree. She cast her gaze out to the direction she knew the great God Root to be, wondered if it was its proud crown she saw as a dark plume in the distance, or just a trick of the light.

"Dark Gods," she echoed, only a hint of worry in her voice. "Many call the spirits of the forest that, yes," her eyes flit back to the Avariel woman, and she studied her a moment. A look that measured. "But in recent years, more and more reports have come to our Monastery, sighting old beings, corrupted, changed... full of wrath and hate," she shook her head, a hint of worry pulling at the corners of her mouth, and at the lines of her brow.

"Perhaps," she hesitated. Nod. "We can work together, to learn more of this being?"

It was in the pause that came between the offer that a commotion from the crowd caught Helena's attention. Whispers turned to excitement, and giddiness.

"Good evening," came a new voice to Helena's ear. "I hope you are enjoying yourselves,"

Helena's eyes went wide, and warmth crept up her neck as her eyes found Gwynnestri. "Oh, your Highness," she gathered herself, and bowed her head to the young royal. "We are," no, she couldn't speak for others. "I am," she corrected, and felt her stomach twist into knots. Her eyes darted around, forgetting where she was supposed to look, how she was supposed to speak.

She looked startled, caught off guard by the appearance of something new and foreign.

Caliane Ruinë

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Helena's words only troubled the young Avariel by confirming her own suspicions. She had hoped the two incidents she had heard about were anomalies and the last two of a dying, sickly breed. It was never Caliane's luck to be given the easier path. Her mother always said it was not her fate for an easy life, and she felt that solemn foretelling more and more as the years crept on. With effort she forced her wings to relax instead of stay pinned against her back with her agitation; it would not do for the others of her people to think something amiss. Many who had come here today from Thyasari had done so on her assurances the world had changed for the better.

"I would like that," she nodded with a tight smile. The prospect of another dangerous adventure did not fill her with great joy but if this was her lot in life, if her happiness was needed as a sacrifice so that her people would no longer cower, Caliane would bear the burden. "When would y--?"

The pair got no further with their discussion when they were joined by the Princess herself. Helena's reaction surprised her but she covered the slight widening of her eyes and instead turned a warm smile to the young sky elf. With practised grace her wings swept into the traditional bow of the Avariel.

"It is a delight to be back amongst these halls, your Highness. It has been over a century since I last visited your father. I trust he is well? Your mother too?"

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

The two women seemed startled by her sudden arrival, especially Helena. Gwynn gave them a kind smile. "My parents are doing well, I shall tell them you asked after them," she said to Caliane. "You must come to visit us more often," she said. Her people had a long history with the Avariel, and yet she had only met one before tonight.

She turned to Helena. "I heard you traveled here on a flying boat," she said. "I trust your journey was well?" Staying on friendly terms with all her current allies and potential allies was key. She could not be thinking about what had happened on the eyrie or how the love of her life was standing just a few paces behind her. Her diplomatic smile stayed on her face.

 

[Fynaurie]

The evening had hardly been the excitement Fynaurie craved. Some plain looking human soldier had told her to 'cheer up'. She'd been made to hold her post and stand to attention as visitors - the first real visitors they'd had in a thousand years - danced and made merry.

"Fynaurie."

She straightened. Hindrath. The deputy wing commander. She was going to be in trouble for something like 'breathing incorrectly whilst on duty'.

"You're dismissed. Go on, don't cause a diplomatic incident."

She almost leapt on the spot. When she saw his frown, Fynaurie turned and slink away. With every step she accelerated a little more.

A quick change and she was back to the ballroom and looking for some of her friends. They weren't used to strangers and she would rather roam in a pack with the young elves.

 

[Helena]

Caliane's steadfast grace gave Helena some room to breath. Her bow, elegant, and graceful, bought the young Captain precious moments to settle into the calm needed for such moments.

These were not their friends. Not yet. Potentiality present in every breath. Every motion.

She caught the towering shape of one of her mentors. The great oak of a man, Syr Dejan, and she remembered a bit of wisdom he had imparted some time ago.

There is strength in young trees. A shift in the wind, might have them bend, but they will not break so long as their roots are firm beneath them.

Helena remembered her own weight, felt strenght run up from her toes, and through her legs. The ancient stone of the tower, likely carved from the same granite rock she had sprouted from. The Spine of the world.

I trust your journey was well.

Helena nod, and grace fell upon her as all her blood settled. "Yes, your Highness, made all the better by the great-eagles-" she caught herself, bowed her head. "Rohks," she corrected herself and rose with a placid smile. "And the brave riders that accompanied our ship upon approach,"

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

"That is a very kind offer, Your Highness," Caliane inclined her head. "I shall as my duties allow."

No doubt her parents would be thrilled to discover her promise; as the child of two Elders, they had always hoped for their child to be more involved in the politics of their kind. She knew her mother had respected her choices - and heart - that had led her elsewhere, but her father still believed her love of the outside world and the love of a groundling was some passing, childish fancy. He wanted her to build her - and her cities - future. Forming a friendship with the young Princess was a great step in doing that.

At the mention of the flying ship her eyebrows rose and she glanced to Helena.

"I hadn't realised that belonged to your people. My father commented he had not seen one of its ilk since the Dwarven Wars."

 

[Petra Darthinian]

The dragon had opened his mouth to answer the Priestess when a rather cacophonous sound of spluttering fear pulled his attention to the entrance to the flight platform.

There he noted the paleness of the faces of the newcomers. A couple even tinged green in what he assumed was a mortal's sign of being close to hurling.

Although there was one among them who stood out, a woman who seemed to try and swallow her fear and direct the others to adopt a courageous front. He admired her for it, even if their reaction stirred a deep amusement within him at their assumption of the situation they walked in on.

Norvyk had to admit, that after being bonded to Petra for these months, he had grown used to the wide array of reactions that his presence inspired. Anything from fear to awe, and the most common end result, curiosity. He understood it was unusual to find him so casually amongst the general populace, let alone playing mount to such a fiery elf like his Rider. But it was not something that they were privy to understand. The machinations of his kind foreign to them, their secrets held close and the ways of their magic even closer.

So he let them gawk. And he let them tremble. Doing nothing to remedy their fear other than to turn to Azlat and comment in a dry rumbling tone, "Your retinue, I presume, Priestess?"

*********

Petra was reluctant to admit how much her encounter with Faramund had unsettled her normally effervescent mask that she donned for social occasions such as this. But she was adept at faking it until you made it. And thus she still walked from the balcony with a carefree and inviting expression. Determined to tuck away the things they unearthed with each other for later speculation when she was safe to be alone with her thoughts.

Well, as alone as she could be anyhow. That last thought attributed to the near constant yet reassuring presence of her dragon that occupied a portion of her consciousness, just as she did to him.

It was an interesting experience to say the least, and a more difficult one to describe with any eptitude to someone who had never been exposed to a magic of this kind before.

How could she describe that she was still herself, but now more so than she had ever been?

It was a puzzle she had mulled over like a well worn stone that sat in one's pocket. Both a constant reminder, yet soothing in its familiarity from wear. She wondered if it was something that the eagle riders among the sky elves could relate to. Or whether their connection was so different from her own with Norvyk that they would find her alien and unnatural and shun any knowledge they could share with each other.

She was absently maneuvering through the crowd, finding a familiar refuge in the silhouette of Helena from across the room and thinking of her now budding desire to know more of the eagle riders, when she found her path disrupted by running into someone who seemed equally as hurried in wherever it was they needed to go.

"Oof!" She exhaled in surprised, immediately turning to the woman who had run into her. Reaching out on instinct to steady what she now recognized as a sky elf. Panic flared at the thought of having injured, or worse, insulted the woman due to any customs of their decorum that she was unfamiliar with and thus Petra found herself breathing a flurry of apologies after regaining what air had been knocked from her on impact.

"Oh, gods. I am so sorry. Are you alright?!"

 

[Azlat Ushus]

“Yes, I belie͘v̶e my absence has been n͞oted.” Azlat quipped, tuning to look upon the commotion that had gathered around them. Queen Esme wore a look of grave concern, standing among her warriors in tow. Their reaction was fitting, but unnecessary. In the end, the meeting had been a relief. Not all of the so called 'dragons' of the north meant to do them harm, and Azlat now knew that she'd not falter, were she to encounter one that did.

"Azlat! We are going to get you out of there okay?" Esme called out, and the warriors with her were quick to reach for the concealed weapons they carried with them.

"On my count, we split up. I don't care what you do but draw its attention away until I can grab The Priestess." Esme continued, and at the Queen's command, they began to scatter towards presumable positions of attack in Azlat's defence. She couldn't blame them for seeing Norvyk as a threat. After all, Azlat had, and that very perception had spurred her to face him. Yet in their conversation, she had determined that he clearly was not.

“You ne͡edn't fear. He is no threat – I'm su͠re of that.” Azlat announced, her tone calm and confident in making the statement. He was not like the pretender at all, and the discovered fact flew in the face of the prejudice that she'd arrived with. The warriors appeared much less inclined to face him with words, preparing for violence in effort to ensure her safety.

Though, the Queen's caution was wise. Had Norvyk anything to do with that pretender, the meeting would have not gone nearly as peacefully. The present misunderstanding still risked battle, and she knew well that the Routan warriors would leap bravely into combat unless that was corrected.

“I mea͝nt no worry. I h̸ad͟ to see the dragon for m͟yself.” Azlat announced, quickly stepping back towards Esme to allay her fret. She gave Norvyk one last glance as she departed, carrying far more respect than the combative expression she'd worn on arrival.

“He is not͢hing like that which arr̷ived upon Thagretis.” Azlat added, addressing Esme.

Esmeralda Petra Darthinian

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

Gwynn gave Caliane a smile. "I look forward to strengthening our alliance both tonight and in the future," she said. She then turned to Helena, who seemed to have relaxed a bit as she spoke. "And I have high hopes that we will be able to become not only allies, but friends."

Helena may have been overwhelmed and nervous, but it was nothing compared to how Gwynn felt on the inside. Beneath her calm, kind exterior was a young girl in awe of the two incredible woman she stood in the presence of. She had heard legends of both of them and their peoples, and thought it rather ironic that Helena should feel nervous. She truly did have high hopes for the new alliance with the Knights of Anathaeum.

"An hour before midnight, my guards will escort you to our conference room and we can further discuss the future of our peoples," With that, Gwynn would dip her head to the two women, her smile still on her face, before she would leave them to continue their conversation from before she had interrupted.

As she turned, she met Reynard's gaze since he stood behind her, and she longed to dance with him again. Instead, she walked a little ways off, towards the entrance of the ballroom, and picked another flute of sky wine from off of a passing platter. She scanned the ballroom, doing a mental tally of everyone of importance, trying to decide who else she needed to talk to before the meeting.

 

[Faramund]

The night air was chill, but Faramund felt a flush of heat creep its way up his neck. 'Petra...' He held up a hand to stop her. He didn't want to stand around listening to some fucking children's lullaby, now or ever. Nor did he want to allow Petra to comfort him. Alas, when had any of the women in his life actually listened to him?

Sighing, the big knight asked himself exactly that as the elf began to sing. As always, there was an energy to her words quite unlike any other. A touch of magic that, whilst potent, didn't stir in him the feelings it did in others who heard them. Sometimes his tolerance for magic, or else his resistance to it, was both a blessing and a curse. More one than the other, I feel, the knight thought, wishing his glass hadn't run empty.

He needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off of Petra and her... unnecessary kindness. A fight was the surest answer to his woes, though, the captain was unlikely to forgive such a transgression against their hosts. As for the sky elves, well, they probably had ways of making unruly guests simmer down. Those warriors outside weren't for show, after all.

The eagles, however... Yeah, no, they weren't for show either.

Staring out across the mountain peaks, Faramund listened to Petra walk away. It was sweet of her to try and buoy his mood, really. But now that they had touched on the man behind the mask, Faramund found himself struggling to let go of the self-recrimination he had harboured for all these years. It had been foolish of him to let his guard down around Petra. He knew that.

But if not her, who?

'Gods... I need a drink!' Turning away for the view, Fara made his way back inside. The music and festivities had not ceased in his absence. On the contrary, things seemed to have picked up considerably since his last dance with Petra. Fara spotted Helena conversing with one of the Avariel. And who was that with them? Why, only the Princess of the Skies herself!

Smiling, Fara swiped a couple of glasses of wine from a passing waiter. 'Thirsty?' The man asked, a familiar lilt to his voice. 'Positively parched,' replied Fara, recognising the elven waiter from earlier. His was just another face in the crowd, but at least it was one the knight knew.

Another strode his way. Fynaurie nearly bumped into him, eager as she was to see her friends and partake of the most excellent wine on offer. 'Take it you've brightened up, then?' Stifling a grin, Fara offered her the untouched drink. 'Here,' he said, opting to try his hand at diplomacy before drinking himself into a stupor. 'To what may be the first of many. Cheers!'

Fynaurie

 

[Reynard De Eramant]

Reynard did his best to listen in on the conversation without looking like he was. A skill he had gotten quite good at with all the many political and social discussions Gwynn seemed to find herself a part of. Knowledge was important and he felt better knowing as much as he could. Reynard had never met the two women Gwynn was speaking with so it seemed to him they didn’t have the chance to visit very often. Gwynn seemed to like them and that was more than enough for him.

He perked up at the mention of the flying boat. It seemed Helena was one of the party going to arrive on it. Seeing it from a distance earlier in the night he knew it was a solid and quite appealing vehicle. He couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship even if many of the finer details of its construction were completely lost on him.

The conversation came to a close but Gwynn made it clear they would be speaking again later in the night. It didn’t matter much, wherever she went he would dutifully follow. Perhaps he’d even get the chance to speak and at the very least introduce himself. He was no foreign dignitary but he did have at least a little pride to speak of.

Reynard gave a small nod to the two women and followed behind Gwynn, not failing to notice her gaze resting on him for a moment before looking away, a moment that was enough to set his blood racing once again. She was often like a shot of adrenaline and energy when she wanted to be, sometimes even when she didn’t.

Reynard decided against a drink of his own, maintaining that he should stay as sober as possible, not that sky wine wasn’t delicious or anything. He scanned the ballroom as she did so, tracking where her gaze went in an effort to keep up with the thoughts certainly racing through her mind. He smiled before speaking. “Quite a turnout for a princess you know? I’ve heard tell of many princess hosted events failing but you really do have a way of drawing people to you." The compliment came out without him thinking but he pushed on anyway. “I try not to be presumptuous but I’d argue this is a good sign of things to come.”

 

[Helena]

Helena's eyes showed some of the ease that washed over her. The warmth of hope burned brighter in her heart. "As do I your, highness," she agreed with a tilt of her crown. The jewels in her hair, and earings that hung at the side of her face twinkled some with the shift in light.

"I hadn't realised that belonged to your people..."

The Dwarven Wars. Catalysts to the Great Closing. She had been but a child when she first came upon the Annals of the World's Spine. Penned by one Syr Sideran Ithay. A knight of elven lineage, she learned later. But through all the dry texts, she remembered the account of the Children of the Winds. Three babes, winged all, taken from their homes and tortured.

The Princess let her plans be known. A meeting before midnight. Helena smiled at the poeticism of it. "I look forward to that time, your Highness," and she bowed her head once more to bid the princess farewell.

Once the Princess had departed, she took in a breath, remembered herself and all that was at stake.

In this moment, the Captain remained firm. A visage like fertile earth. Warm still upon the surface, as the sun painted her umber tones hues of gold. But her eyes held fast. "It was my hope that it would serve as a symbol," she assured. "Of what we may build for the future, should we manage to weave peace,"

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

"I fear my father would only see it as a sign of war."

Caliane watched the Princess as she disappeared once more into the crowd. There were high hopes amongst the Elders that they might find a suitable son amongst their ranks to wed her and secure the alliance with the sky elves for another few centuries. She hoped the Princess found love instead. Turning back to Helena she seemed to realise what it was she had murmured beneath her breath and offered a smile that creased the corners of her eyes.

"But he is an old man, times are changing. I would like to see this... sky... ship of yours," her head tilted with curiosity. She knew her mother would definitely like to get her hands on the ship for study too. The Avariel had never kept any of the ships they had won in war but destroyed them instead in the hopes other kinds would not copy the technology.

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

When Gwynn was once again alone with Reynard (or as alone as they could be in a crowded ballroom), she let herself relax a bit. She smiled at his kind words and turned to look at him. "I do have a good feeling about this," she replied before turning back around. "I was so worried it wasn't going to work out but it seems I worried too much,"

Outside the large windows of the ballroom, night had completely fallen, and the light inside had dimmed to the candles in the chandeliers and on the windowsills and tabletops. There were so many people here, of varying races, mingling and dancing and eating and drinking, and Gwynn felt the reality of it at once press down upon her and lift upwards, as if she were living in a dream that might be real.

 

[Helena]

A sign of war.

The words lingered in her mind as they both watched the young princess meld into the crowds as the day's light faded, turned pinks to purples and blues. The orange glow of candle light, gold and warm as the shadows of night filled the room.

With all the promise that was in this room, such a threat always loomed around the corner.

She felt the stir of the air before the words had come. Her gaze turned to meet Caliane's

...times are changing. I would like to see this... sky... ship of yours,

Helena felt warmth grow again in her chest. She smiled. "That can be arranged," she assured with a nod and a smile. To gain trust, one had to give trust. The ship was no war vessel.

The music swelled as the quartet began. Her eyes flit across the crowd, all the joy of new friends and old come together.

Part of her felt so at odds upon this stone tower. Far from the forest that was their home.

"Do you dance, Lady, Caliane?"

 

[Fynaurie]

Oof! She exhaled in surprised, immediately turning to the woman who had run into her. Reaching out on instinct to steady what she now recognized as a sky elf. Panic flared at the thought of having injured, or worse, insulted the woman due to any customs of their decorum that she was unfamiliar with and thus Petra found herself breathing a flurry of apologies after regaining what air had been knocked from her on impact.

Oh, gods. I am so sorry. Are you alright?!

Fynaurie had been walking sideways. Instead of looking where she was going, she had been sipping from a champagne flute and watching the dance floor.

Amongst the elves, the Sky Elves were quite a pragmatic people. They were thick leathers for flying high. They lived in an old stone tower that predated their culture.

Suddenly the dance floor was a colourful and exciting and full of strange foreigners. Neither of her two main experiences meeting outsiders had been pleasant.

Fynaurie managed to save what was left of her drink as she bounced off someone and stumbled to one knee.

She was quickly back up onto her feet, afraid of being berated if anyone superiors saw her and assumed the worst.

"No no...I am perfectly fine thank you...Oh you're an elf?" She said, switching into elvish. The sky elf dialect was more of an accent. Fynaurie turned to look at Petra. She was not one of them, her dress and bronzed skin gave that away.

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

That can be arranged.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas would never believe her when she told him she'd been on one of the flying ships of old. He would be jealous, she was sure, but perhaps it was an introduction she could make down the lines. Her Heart enjoyed flying as much as she did. Perhaps the next time there was a cause for these ships to move on mass the Avariel would be flying with them rather than against them.

Her smile only broadened when Helena asked about dancing.

"Of course!" She held out a hand and took a step towards the dance floor. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Let me show you how Avariel dance."

 

[Reynard De Eramant]

Reynard smiled at Gwynn's earnest worry at the results of the ball. She was understandably anxious leading up to the event, it was incredibly important things go right after all, but it seems that so far she was pleased. She deserved to be as well, even Reynard could tell that much. He was far from a master of politics but he knew diplomacy well, and knew that Gwynn was in many ways just as good as him when it came to the art of making people like you.

“To worry is appropriate, I believe that is far better than being over confident but you worry too much. Your natural magnetism works incredibly well for events like this.” he said with a deep and kind smile. “I’m sure the ball will continue to be a success and you’ll have nothing to worry about by night's end. I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”

 

[Helena]

The young captain smiled wide and bright as she heard the Lady Caliane's response. And before she could offer a dance herself, the crimson haired angel offered out her hand, and moved to the floor, her wonderous wings aglow with the shifting light of the falling dusk, and the flames light around them.

Let me show you how Avariel dance,

Helena's smile turned to warm laughter, and she took up Caliane's hand, following after her as they found their place amongst the crowd of dancers. Her eyes bright, her gown resplendent as the strings began their steady rhythm. An introduction.

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Upon seeing Caliane take to the floor the other Avariel's half paused in their conversations to watch and a few, unbeknowst to her, trailed after with their own partners. It was her mother herself who stepped up to where the band had been playing and whispered in the ear of the man conducting the night. The sky elf's face split into a grin and he nodded, saying something to the band, and after a few short moments the first few strains of the Avariel Saltare sung out across the hall.

Caliane drew Helena near until the Captain's feet were atop of hers and twined their fingers together.

"Hold on," were the only words of warning as the music burst into the opening chorus and Caliane took them into the air with powerful beats of her wings. Other Avariels on the dance floor took flight too, spinning their partners round three times before they touched back down, their feet moving rapidly and then up, once more to the skies in a complicate series of twists and turns. Their wings bent and curled and flowed the same way a humans body did with the melody. Through it all Caliane guided her new friend, never letting go but never holding so tight that she could not feel the freedom the song provided too.

 

[Helena]

To let the weight of things fall from her shoulders, if just for a moment, for a dance.

It wasn't something that came natural to Helena. Her eyes ever measuring, scrutinizing. Worried with what came on the horizon. What weaknesses were left in those spots her day's mind could not think to find.

Hold on.

Helena felt her breath leave her lungs, as her hands held firm.

What did any of that mean in the arms of another? With the rush of air and song matching the swell of her heart as feet left the ground and feathered wings spread proud, with primary's flared like fingers feeling for the wind.

As they went up and down, and up again, Helena could not help but laugh, her feet upon Caliane's, trusting the Red Winged Lady to see her through the Saltare.

 

[Esmeralda]

He is not͢hing like that which arr̷ived upon Thagretis.” Azlat added, addressing Esme.

With Azlats assurance, Esmerelda placed her weapon back into its hiding place and after slight hesitation, so did her men.

"Our apologies Priestess, we weren't aware there would even be a dragon here so naturally we assumed he is a threat." Esmerelda nodded in Norvyks direction, as if to offer apology and stretched out her arm, looping it around Azlats own one. "I am just glad you are alright and he is not like the dragons of your history."
Koa had already rejoined Esmes and walked along with her and the Priestess, though all the while shooting glances at the dragon.

Wesley and Kizzen however, didn't wander off just yet.

Azlat Ushus

 

[Wesley Argent]

When the danger faded and the Priestess Azlat set the record straight about the dragon, Wesley relaxed almost instantly...not exactly the smartest move to let your guard down so quickly but then again - he wasn't the smartest man.. . As Koa, Azlat and Esme walked away. Wesley stood in spot, hands on his hips as in inspected the creature.

"You ever seen a dragon before Kizzen?"
"What do you think took my leg?" His friend replied, almost as if showing off.
"You idiot," He shot Kizzen a stupid look, "I was there when the damn bear bit it off."
"Oh yeaaah..." The amputee droned as he scrated the back of his fluffy head. And followed it with a shrug. "Works with the dames regardless of the animal." Knocking the piece of wood like a trusty steed, he followed on after the rest of his party."

Wesley took on last look at the dragon, "I don't know if you understand me or not but I just wanted to apologize about just now. It's not exaclty like you cuddly sized."

Just as he turned to leave, the red haired remembered something. "Oh yeah! Here," Reaching into his furs, Wesley pulled out a handfull of dried meats and placed it on the floor infront of him. "Its not much, but incase you were in the mood for a snack."

With that he turned from Norvyk and rushed inside to act on his next thought, to find Abrielle about the dragon he had just encounted. She won't believe it...

Petra Darthinian Abrielle Huxley

 

[Azlat Ushus]

"Our apologies Priestess, we weren't aware there would even be a dragon here so naturally we assumed he is a threat." Spoke Esme.

“Th͡at's quite alright. No̶r was I aware, but a relief that there's no n͜eed to fret. I appre͢ciate your vigilance, as always.” Replied Azlat, with gratitude to those who rushed to her defence. Had she known, she'd have arrived more prepared than she had. She had the wherewithal to arm herself this time, but by her dagger and by her magic, Norvyk remained a formidable foe well beyond what she was prepared to deal with. Were this dragon to arrive with the same malice that she had assumed of all northern dragons, she'd have stood ready. Yet, to her great relief, Azlat had found herself mistaken in her assumptions.

"I am just glad you are alright and he is not like the dragons of your history." Esme added.

“As a̶m I, Esme, as am I.” Was all Azlat could respond, stilling her fear and concern over what might have been. Much remained to be learned about this new world that had opened up to her.

“Have you s̴een Princess Gwynnestri?” Azlat asked, realizing that she'd yet to encounter her. News of the dragon had struck her with such grave concern that she had foregone introductions to the princess, which became her present priority. Far be it from her to be rude, after all.

With her fears allayed, Azlat would be able to enjoy the festivities in secure comfort. Azlat peered towards the interior of the palace. A pair was lost in dance, moving not across the floor but up and away from it in a catching display and a flap of white wings tinged with crimson. It was a catching sight that caught her attention.

“Shall we ret͟urn?” Azlat remarked, still glancing inside at the crowd.

Gwynnestri Ravaneiros Esmeralda