Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Seteta nearly fell over with relief when Chaceledon got a spark to catch. With careful haste, she helped him to feed the fire, kept it building slowly, and maintained it as he warmed up. She felt a flash of envy as he stuck his hands directly in the flames. No matter how cold she was, she didn't dare.

When Chaceledon felt well enough to start gathering larger limbs and branches to maintain the fire, Seteta settled next to it, as close as she dared, with a groan. Her whole body ached from shivering, and her hands just ached. She still wore the same clothes she'd worn out of the pet house, but she had no scarf and no coat.

She huddled next to the fire, alternating between clutching her arms close and holding her hands out to warm them, and watched as Chaceledon gathered firewood.

At some point, tears began to prick at her eyes.

"Are you really here?" she whispered in a moment when he looked over at her. "Are we really out? It's not a dream?"

Her eyes fell shut for just a moment, and tears slipped down her face.

"How long has it been, since he took me from the tent?" she asked when she opened her eyes again.


Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon settled next to her, but only when he was satisfied with the wood they had stocked up. He didn’t dare let that fire go out. He shed his wet coat, and the layers of clothing. “Get that wet clothing off, you’ll freeze. Here, huddle with me. We have to use it as...oh what did Brade call it? An insulator.” he huddled next to her and threw his damp robe around both of them, trapping the warm air from the fire around and between their bodies.

He kissed her cheek, his arm around her waist and pulling her close to his side. “You’re here. You’re out.” he said softly, kissing her hair. “I’m so sorry he touched you...I never would have had you relive that nightmare that I lived in and raised children in.” He kissed her again, cuddling her protectively. No one was touching her that way again. He was going to make sure Oor died with his own severed cock stuffed down his throat for it.

“I think it’s been four days? Maybe five? He sent me a dream not long after, and...I couldn’t just rest and plan. I had to go after you. I love you.” Chaceledon looked down at her. He loved her. He never would have come crashing into the underground otherwise. He never would have had the courage to step into that garden again otherwise.

Seteta
 
Seteta nodded, teeth still chattering but not so forcefully that she thought she might crack a tooth, and slowly began to strip her clothes off. She winced as she pulled her boots off. She could barely grip her clothes, but she managed. Eventually. She tried to spread them out on the ground to dry.

Chaceledon was settling next to her then, throwing the robe around them. She melted into his embrace, breathing a sigh of relief as his lips pressed against her hair. She still shivered, and she was so tired and so sore, but still, what he said caught her attention. Made her frown, brow creasing.

But he was still talking, and she nodded as he said four or five days, and then... he said that. Those words, and she took a deep, relieved breath as the warmth and depth of his affection filled her.

"I love you too," she whispered, twisting her head up to see his face. "And Oor didn't touch me. Well... except to slap me when I called him an incompetent husband and told him you were mine." Her mouth momentarily twisted into a self-satisfied smirk. "And then I burned those blasted robes."

Then her brow furrowed again. "You do know, don't you? That you're free of him now?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon closed his eyes briefly and took a deep sigh of relief. “Thank the gods. Rheinhard said it may be a dream to scare me and he was right.” he said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear. He smiled, and kissed her again. He’d never tire of that feeling. “I knew when my ring crumbled off my finger. You burned the marital robes I stole. He forgot them after he insisted we wear them for...it doesn’t matter now. His slip. How did you know the only thing that could divorce a dragon was fire? If the robes catch, then the marriage was never meant to be. Or so the old tradition goes.”

He could feel his heart swell looking at her. She was so brave, so beautiful. She’d faced down a wraith without cowering. She’d even thought to turn those pit dogs against him. To Rheinhard’s detriment...he’d need to bind up that shoulder. He pressed his forehead against hers briefly. “I’m yours, and happy to be so. Were we in the desert, I’d take you into the burning sky and make love to you.”

Seteta
 
"I'm sorry you had to even dream it," Seteta murmured, leaning into his touch, and stretching up to return his soft kiss.

Carefully, Seteta scooted herself into his lap, tucking her head into Chaceledon's chest, and laughed softly when he asked how she knew to burn the robes. "Don't you remember?" she said. "That night, early on, when we walked together after you'd done forge work in the village, where we met Gaal. You told me."

She looked up at him again, nearly wept once more at the worshipful adoration in his eyes. When he leaned down to press his forehead against hers, she nuzzled his nose.

"And I'm yours," she answered. "But I sincerely hope that you're not planning to wait until we reach the desert to make love to me. I just wish that both of us were well enough for it now."

She reached up and smoothed her hand over his jaw, then tugged him back down for a long, slow kiss. When they broke apart at last, she glanced over at Rheinhard with a sigh. "Do we need to bind his hands before he wakes?" she asked. "So that he can't remove the blindfold... and just in case it isn't Rheinhard who wakes up first?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon melted into that kiss happily. Were they at the pet house with soft sheets, he wouldn’t be having the conversation anymore. But that was long and far away, and he fully expected to get a dressing down from Rheinhard for abandoning the wagon. The wagon! Gods they had no supplies. No food. No mounts. No tent.

He looked over at Rheinhard and kissed her, slowly getting up and going to his son. He bound his shoulder with the other sleeve of his robe, stemming the sluggish bleeding. “I’m not going to treat my own children like criminals. I can negotiate with anyone but Klaus and Jess. Since Klaus was the one who took the blow to the skull, I’m guessing Nestor will take over. He always bullies the others.” he sighed and kissed Rheinhard’s forehead, making sure he was comfortable before he returned to Seteta’s warmth.

He cuddled with her, his cold skin slowly warming from the fire and her touches. He knew they couldn’t sleep, not yet, but gods it was tiring.

Rheinhard woke a few hours later, when the sun was fading. He sat up sharply, then groaned and clutched his head. Chaceledon looked at him carefully. “Hardy darling..?”

“Shut the fuck up you cold blooded faggot.”

Chaceledon sighed. “Yarel?”

“Who else? Why am I blind..?” He touched the blindfold. “Right. Memories. Well I’m not talking to a traitor. My head feels like someone put it in a vice...”

The dragon shook his head and kissed Seteta’s cheek.
Seteta
 
Seteta sighed, but refrained from rolling her eyes or arguing, for now. She was too tired to argue, and she didn't want to do so right after they'd both, finally, confessed their feelings beyond just attraction. She understood why Chaceledon didn't want to bind Rheinhard, but she suspected that Rheinhard himself would agree with her suggestion.

Chaceledon rose, though, and tended to Rheinhard's shoulder. She shifted the damp robe around to let a wetter side of it closer to the fire as she waited for her lover to return. When he was finished, she settled herself back in his lap. She looped one arm around his waist, pressed a soft kiss over his heart, and wove the fingers of her other hand into his, though she couldn't help flinching a little as pain flared in her hands.

She rested as best she could for a while, letting Chaceledon's heartbeat lull her, but at best she only dozed. Between not knowing who Rheinhard would wake up as, and how close they still were to Oor's underground domain, Seteta was uneasy.

When Rheinhard finally stirred, she tensed, acutely aware that she was unarmed. Perhaps, next time it's an option, she thought, we should have some hand to hand training as well.

Seteta quietly watched and listened as, apparently, not-Rheinhard and Chaceledon spoke.

"Traitor?" she murmured as Chaceledon's lips brushed against her skin, uncertain if this Yarel meant Chaceledon or Oor.

Chaceledon
 
“Yes traitor.” Yarel rubbed his face, sighing and pawing around until he found where the fire was. He settled next to it and carefully hovered his hands over the flames. He wiggled a finger around in his ear after a moment. “And whatever you did to the rocks back there, they’re pissed off about it. Threatening a cave in.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that; we’re still far too close to Witherhold.” Chaceledon said quietly.

“Come to think of it, about the spot you butchered me and chained my son to this nightmare of a spell. Oh, and let him drink himself to death, I was always happy about that.” Yarel’s voice was dripping in sarcasm.

“He means Aron. They didn’t have a smooth transition from Yarel to Aron-“ Chaceledon told Seteta in a low voice.

“Oh, like when you caved my face in and dragged a screaming ten year old out of a hiding hole because you were afraid of the wraith? Coward. Who the hell else is here? The fireplace stones are chattering a mile a minute.”

Chaceledon fell silent for a moment, holding Seteta close. He hadn’t had to confront what he’d done to some of the Volker children in a very long time. If Yarel was awake, that meant more and more of the Well was becoming destabilized. Magic was fragmenting, all throughout Arethil. Chaceledon worried what would happen if it collapsed entirely. It would almost certainly mean his own death, and from what Nestor floated around, Volker’s psyche would tear itself to shreds before his mind essentially imploded from the spiritual strain.

It was one scientific theory Chaceledon wasn’t eager to see bear fruit.

“Has Nestor noted anything...weird?”

“About an hour ago when you knocked Klaus out of control and woke me up. It’s like musical chairs in here, what is going on with the magic..?”

Seteta
 
Yarel-Rheinhard moved closer to the fire, and Seteta's brow wrinkled when he spoke of the rocks in the cave.

"They should have gone back to their previous state when I released the magic," she murmured. Was this something else she needed to take note of, with the way magic was acting these days?

She just listened to the next part of the conversation, quietly biting her lip. When Chaceledon fell silent, his hold on her tightening, Seteta stretched up and pressed a kiss to the front of his shoulder, then whispered, "Have you tried apologizing?"

She wasn't sure if he heard her, though, as the conversation turned to... magic.

Chaceledon said:
“Has Nestor noted anything...weird?”

“About an hour ago when you knocked Klaus out of control and woke me up. It’s like musical chairs in here, what is going on with the magic..?”
Click to expand...

"It's not just the Well," Seteta interjected. "It's all magic. It keeps... fading. Sometimes it's just weaker, other times it's gone altogether."

Chaceledon
 
“Well they didn’t, and they’re not happy about it. I’m a Speaker, you’re an earth mage. You can ask the mountains to move but I carry on conversations with them. If we compared notes for a few months we’d have Nestor creaming his proverbial pantaloons.” Yarel snorted. “Things aren’t going well in there if we have remnants randomly waking up without Oor’s direction.”

Chaceledon winced a bit. He wasn’t sure apologizing was going to do anything at this point. Yarel was determined to hold onto the grudge...and he had every right to. He cuddled close to the fire and fell silent. Yarel got up and took off the blindfold, tossing it to Chaceledon. “You need warmth, go sit in the fire and I’ll build it up.” He said sourly. Chaceledon kissed Seteta, and got up.

That was when he heard it. The Falwood stone...calling them to it...and promising answers.

Seteta
 
Seteta sighed, but chuckled softly at Yarel's comment about Nestor. "I could reach in and put them back in place even now," she told Yarel, "but if the magic didn't release in the first place, there's no guarantee it will now. And... I'm worried that Oor will sense my magic, and be able to track us through it."

She scowled when Yarel removed the blindfold, though, a little frustrated that Chaceledon and many of the Volkers seemed so... careless after what they'd been through. She would have liked them to be further from the underground and the cave they'd escaped from before the the blindfold was taken off.

But she pushed the thought aside for now as Chaceledon kissed her, and she slid off his lap to allow him to sit in the fire. She adjust the slowly-drying robe again, and scooted as close to the flames as she dared. And then... a strange voice bore down on them, clearly carried by magic, discernable to each of them as if in their native tongues.

Velaeri said:
"The capstone is broken, Eolydiir's Crook is once again found.
What has come to pass before will soon be unbound.
Gather, all, to the Portal Stones at once.
You must act now or all will forever be lost."
Click to expand...

There was very little discussion about the matter. Clearly, it was related to the instability of the Well. To Seteta's difficulties with magic. To Chaceledon's sporadic inability to breathe fire.

On the positive side of the issue, it also meant that Oor's abilities would be hindered.

As soon as Yarel had Chaceledon sufficiently warmed, they moved. It wasn't safe to linger too long there, regardless of whether magic was or was not working properly. They traveled until they could not walk any longer, then she and Chaceledon took turns resting, one of them always keeping watch over Rheinhard-sometimes-not-Rheinhard. Seteta had no desire to be caught unawares by Klaus.

It was a grueling few days of travel before they finally came upon a village. They managed to barter services rendered for goods. Chaceledon did like he had at the first village coming out of Fal'Addas, working at the smithy. Seteta helped the villagers find a location for a new well, the magic cooperating enough for her to locate an underground aquifer for them, and where they could reach it without having to dig for days. She let Chaceledon manage Rheinhard's services.

They left the village a day later with fresh clothes--Chaceledon had somehow managed to barter for what appeared to be either someone's finest mourning garb or bridal gown, Seteta was never sure if white was for mourning outside of the desert or not--a decent supply of travel food, some toiletries, and waterskins.

Seteta had also managed to procure a replacement for her knife, though it wasn't nearly as high quality as her Telling steel one, and she would get that back from Oor one day, she vowed.

They had two more nights before they reached the Falwood portal stone. The Well as becoming increasingly unstable, and they continued to take turns sleeping, herself or Chaceledon always awake to make sure Rheinhard-sometimes-not-Rheinhard did not lose control or, increasingly, need help. He'd started having an alarming amount of nosebleeds, and the physical toll of the Well's instability was becoming rapidly apparent.


Some Ambiguous Amount of Time Later, after the (yet unresolved) events of Titanfall...

Seteta breathed a sigh of relief as they finally returned to the area where they'd left Rheinhard, and tucked her hand into Chaceledon's.

"Let's go find him," she said. "Surely he hasn't gone far."

It was likely foolishly hopeful, but she wasn't about to voice her fears about the situation to Chaceledon yet. Not until they had to face them.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon wasn’t sure what to do with Rheinhard. His son was getting worse. Remnants were drifting in and out like guttering flames, some more alive than others. The Well was having problems keeping them all together. Instead of a bucket it was becoming a sieve, and all they could do was press on. Chaceledon didn’t dare put him to work; not with how unstable he was. The dragon himself was distracted and worried, and put out frustratingly inferior work for a smith of his caliber.

He loved Rheinhard, and the business with how unstable the Well was scared him to his core. How long until Klaus put a stop to it and called Oor? Or Nestor failed to keep them focused and sane?

When the portal stone called they had no choice but to go.

___________________

Returning was, in a sense, like straightening a table. The world was right again. He was cold, but the flame no longer shuddered in and out. Rheinhard had to be stable. The Well would take a little while to heal, and they’d have to determine who stayed awake.

He squeezed Seteta’s hand and gently held her back. “Koiros...I have something to ask you.” he took a deep breath. “I want you to become steward of the Well. It’s the only way Rheinhard gets out from Oor’s thumb. But...it means being tied to Rheinhard for the rest of your life. Possibly longer.”

Seteta
 
Seteta paled, but she didn't pull away, didn't let her complete and utter apprehension show on her face, though it might have been detectable in the depths of her eyes.

She took a deep breath, and forced her heart to stop racing, and quietly led Chaceledon over near the river, fortunately without an unconscious mage floating in it this time, and motioned for him to sit.

She remained standing and, after a few silent moments, began to pace back and forth along the shore.

It was not something she could agree to right away.

Her first inclination was to refuse entirely.

She had no desire to be bound, for any length of time, to a spell as vile as that one. She loved Chaceledon, but that was no guarantee that their relationship would last. They'd been together for a matter of weeks. There was still so much they didn't know about each other, and to be bound to Rheinhard would, inevitably, mean being bound to Chaceledon as well.

She didn't want to be obligated to stay at Chaceledon's side because of a bond to his adopted son.

She continued pacing, for several more minutes, in silence, before coming back to stand before Chaceledon.

"Sehejib," Seteta said, then paused for a moment. She knew what she wanted to say, but not how to say it fully. "This is... a very, very big request. I'm going to say some things, and I want you to keep one thing in mind as I speak: I am not saying no, but I am not saying yes right now either. This is far too large of a decision to make in just a few moments of time. You're going... to have to let me think about it for days."

She sat, then, crossing her legs and settling her hands on her knees, resisting the urge to wring them in her lap. "We are not even betrothed, Chaceledon," she said plainly. "To ask me to bind myself to your adopted son for the rest of my life and possibly longer is... not appropriate. And don't you dare propose to me right now, because I will refuse and I will walk away. I have helped you--you and Rheinhard both--and happened to fall in love with you along the way, but I won't be used.

"If I were to agree, I need to know everything of what this entails. Why can't you be the steward? What do you mean by possibly longer than the rest of my life? And if the Well's stewardship can be transferred to me, could it not, later, be transferred to someone else more suitable?

"I want to know everything that you know about this, and then I want to know the things that you speculate about this, and I want you to come up with the things you think you might not know about it and talk to me about those too."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon brushed away the dirt and folded himself on the cleanest looking rock he could find, twisting his fingers in his lap with anticipation. He knew it was a big thing to ask. There had been no other steward. He wasn’t sure if Oor had lasted so long because of the spell or because that was how long wraiths naturally existed.

He watched her sit, trepidation in his eyes. He knew why he wanted her to take it. There had been so much cruelty to the Volkers...Seteta was a kind creature, and strong. She wasn’t going to fold at their stories or back down when they challenged her. She was the type of woman who could earn their respect and loyalty. Eventually, perhaps even free them.

His stomach dropped a bit at her response. She was right. It was too soon. He ran his fingers through his hair, avoiding looking her in the eyes. “If it were as simple as me taking it...I tried once, my darling. With Lansom. He extended it to me, I took it...and their world became engulfed in flames. All of them, drowning in fire. Burning and melting and burning again with no escape because they were already dead. Lansom went blind for a month. His mouth was burned, throat, stomach, like someone had poured molten slag down his throat.” he swallowed thickly, and irritably brushed away a tear. “I held it for maybe ten minutes before I fell at Oor’s knees and told him what we’d tried to do.”

He took a shuddering breath and scared away the memories. “I’m not trying to use you, or manipulate you. I love you. I just know while he’s bound to that thing he can’t be free. I wouldn’t dare propose to you now. You deserve more than that.” Chaceledon shook his head. It had been foolish to even ask. It was fear that had driven him to ask it. “What I mean by beyond that is that Rheinhard’s life has been extended by the Well. But I’m not sure if the holder of his leash is. It’s impossible to tell a wraith’s age, or if they age.”

At the very least she was asking about it. “Holding that bond means youre acutely aware of everything that happens to him. Whether it’s going into the office in the Well and seeing everything from his heart rate to his desires to his mental health, or just....feeling it. It’ll be a cord, something you can always touch. He can cut you off from it, to a point, but it’s a paper door. A door you can always rip down. He would be bound to obey any direct orders, immediately and without question. You would be able to wake and put to sleep any remnant. I...I don’t know what else. Oor was secretive. He implied that you could create new rooms, but something like that is like drilling a hole...it causes damage and needs to heal. You’d be in charge of his family line.”


Chaceledon looked down. “Oor seemed to be able to find the boy set to inherit the Well no matter where he ran. The mother always has to die, for her bones keep the place of the man inside the Well...as the weapon. Nestor’s rapier had a bone handle from his mother’s femur. Volker carries the knives.”

The dragon looked up at her. “I understand if you say no. Just...don’t tell Rheinhard I asked you. Ever. If the answer is yes...then you can tell him on your own time.”

Seteta
 
Seteta had never seen him cry before. The closest she'd seen him to doing so was when he pulled her out of Oor's manor.

But she listened closely to everything he said. And it was... a lot. While she wanted Rheinhard to be free, it was honestly not a burden she was certain she could shoulder. Especially the part about... his family line. About dooming the mother of the next heir to the Well, a conscious decision she would have to make.

When Chaceledon reached the end of his speech, though, Seteta shook her head.

"I will not make that decision without discussing it with Rheinhard first," she said. "He deserves as much say--of not more--in the matter as you do. But, I will not bring it up with him unless I'm seriously considering accepting the... duties."

She looked back at Chaceledon, waited until he met her gaze once more, and said, "And if--if--I take this on, I will not let you hide behind me. It is clear that there are... unresolved issues between you and many of the Volkers. If they were truly dead, it would be one thing for you to move on, but they are not. They are trapped, and you have the unique opportunity to be able to still attempt to make amends. If I take on the stewardship of the Well, you will take the time to sit down with each and every Volker and attempt to make peace. This is non-negotiable."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon listened, and nodded when he met her gaze. “There is a lot I’m responsible for. Some of their suffering. Just as long as you know they may never forgive me...and one or two of them absolutely want me dead. Thankfully, not Klaus. That boy is damaged more than any creature god or mage could make...but he has good in him. In his own way.” he stood and put his hand on her cheek. “Even considering it means a lot to me.”

First, they had to find him. “Maraan, maybe Annuakat, is our best bet. When Rheinhard is in trouble he goes to ground. That means we can spend six months trying to find every badger den he’s made from here to Slaver’s Bay...or where we picked up contracts. I don’t think he would have headed East. There’s a price on his head.” he rubbed a hand over his face. “I suggest...we either use the Falwood stone to head to Elbion...or start walking.”

Seteta
 
Seteta stood when Chaceledon did, and smiled softly as he touched her cheek. "I would not require that you convince them to forgive you," she said. "Simply that you try to make amends in some way."

She frowned slightly at the mention of Klaus, though. If she were to attempt this, she would rather that Klaus at least did not desire to kill her on sight, but she had no idea how to reach that point with him. She could not force Klaus to reason or to give her a chance, no matter how willing she was.

"You've said before that Nestor has spent his time in the Well studying the spell, right?" she asked. "Is it... possible that I can go into the well and speak with Nestor, without Rheinhard knowing what we discuss?"

She had many, many questions, and some of it pertained to matters she had not spoken to Chaceledon about yet. But mostly, she was incredibly leery to agree taking on the task of managing a powerful spell like this with so much unknown about its workings. What if, when Chaceledon tried to take over its stewardship, the Well had not caught fire because he was a dragon, but because it was a failsafe to prevent anyone but Oor from being steward?

For now, though, the rest of her questions could wait.

Chaceledon said:
“Maraan, maybe Annuakat, is our best bet. When Rheinhard is in trouble he goes to ground. That means we can spend six months trying to find every badger den he’s made from here to Slaver’s Bay...or where we picked up contracts. I don’t think he would have headed East. There’s a price on his head.” he rubbed a hand over his face. “I suggest...we either use the Falwood stone to head to Elbion...or start walking.”
Click to expand...

"Let's check the campsite where we left him first," she suggested. "If he isn't there, perhaps he left a clue as to where he was headed next. If... he was coherent enough to do so."

She slid her hand into Chaceledon's and they began to walk away from the river. "Heading to the Elbion stone and then Maraan would give us the opportunity to gather more supplies. Maybe acquire a camel, and the distance to Annuakat will be greatly lessened.

"There will still be towns and cities we can head to in the southern end of Amol-Kalit, but I don't have as many connections there myself. But, we could go for Pedeo before heading to Annuakat. It simply depends on what we decide to prioritize."

As they neared the treeline, Seteta fell silent for a moment, then tugged on Chaceledon's hand to bring him to a stop. "You've said that returning to the desert will allow you to have your dragon form again. Is it as simple as that, you just need to be there? Or is there something more that needs to be done?"

Chaceledon
 
“Nestor asked to die several times so he could enter the Well early. He was always into the pursuit of knowledge...and the only one to bargain with Oor. He was here, serving and killing, by choice.” Chaceledon muttered. “I never understood him. The first words out of his mouth to me were ‘show me where a ladder is, I don’t need a mother figure’. If you can believe that. I think the boys can keep secrets from each other; there’s no reason you couldn’t have a conversation with Nestor off-record.” Nestor was a mystery to Chaceledon. He had dealt with everything Oor had sent their way with the aplomb of a slightly irritated professor. Needed more books? He got them. Alchemy supplies? He got them. Poison a town? As long as it wasn’t boring. Nestor had been the only one to sharply reject the aid of the Well in favor of his own intelligence. He studied alone, practiced alone, and killed alone.

Ironically, that was why Oor had killed him. A man like Nestor didn’t need a handler, and the moment Oor failed to be useful...he might have found himself on the wrong end of that razor intellect. So he had dangled the one thing in front of Nestor he couldn’t have; inside knowledge of the Well.

“Pick his brain. He’s rude, but if you show yourself capable of keeping up with him intellectually, he’ll begin respecting you.” Chaceledon mentioned as he squeezed her hand. He walked with her back toward the campsite, kissing her knuckles. “Sadly Rheinhard is our ticket into Pedeo. Persian wouldn’t risk detonating his relationship with Oor over anything but very valuable slave genetics. I can’t breed with anything there, and he’d be wholly uninterested in elven genes...and we have very little money. That makes us persona non grata in Pedeo. Maraan would make a good supply stop to Annuakat.”

The campsite was abandoned, and had been for a while. Cold, wet campfire ashes, abandoned lean-to, but what caught Chaceledon’s attention was the rotting food. He frowned and knelt, looking at the remains of a squirrel picked over by scavengers. Rheinhard didn’t waste food. Ever. He looked beyond it slightly to one of the campfire stones. Oor. Written simply, half washed away by rain.

The dragon put his head in his hands. “Oor’s reclaimed him. He’ll be in Annuakat. Before all this, there was talk of a Tower. Some...game put up by a Royal. Oor wouldn’t miss the opportunity for gold.”

Seteta
 
"Do you know if Nestor speaks Abtat?" Seteta asked, thinking on what Chaceledon had just said. "It'd be much easier to keep up with him intellectually if the language barrier as... less."

She smiled as he kissed her hand, but glanced away when he mentioned Persian. She would need to tell him about that encounter when she was with Oor, but it could wait until after they knew what they were doing abourt Rheinhard.

When they reached the camp, Seteta looked around it sadly, recognizing as quickly as Chaceledon that Rheinhard did not leave there of his own free will. She saw the ash-marked stone that said Oor, and came up beside Chaceledon where he knelt, settling her hand on his shoulder with a comforting squeeze.

"Annuakat is where we head, then," she said.

Seteta glanced up at the sky then, judging the time. "If we leave now, there will still be daylight at the Elbion stone when we arrive. We'll have time to get situated for the night."

Chaceledon
 
“He speaks Abtati, troll, common, elvish...speaks draconian like a native.” Chaceledon mentioned, and stood. She was right. They would have to get moving. “The Elbion stone it is then.” Back to the sands. Back to warmth, heat, and...flight. No more walking. His heart leapt, even as frightened as he was that Oor had Rheinhard. He would finally return to the sands, whole, and for the first time in seventeen thousand years...he wouldn’t be chilled. He held her hand, and kissed the back of it before stepping through the portal.

Elbion. Heat blasted around the stone, dry and unforgiving. The wind, so wet in Falwood, was thin and dry. Chaceledon looked up at the fading light of the sun, which was bleeding out the last of its heat before it sank to the sands and became cold as ice. The dragons retired at this hour, settling into beds of boiling sand and rock to keep themselves warm. Gods, he missed his own bed. A pit of crystalline amethyst sand, heated to near-melting, bubbling and seething.

Gods they were here! They were in Amol-Kalit! But the heat was swiftly fading. “Wait...please...” Chaceledon couldn’t stop the childlike beg as the sun fell behind the mountains. The temperature was already dropping, and would drop lower still. Chaceledon looked at Seteta. “There’s still some warmth in the sand...we can rest here for tonight? Start out for Mereen in the morning..?”

Seteta
 
The warmth of Chaceledon's lips on the back of her hand hadn't even faded as they stepped through the portal stone, from Falwood to Elbion in the blink of an eye, and Seteta took a deep breath as she smelled the sands. Smelled home again.

Warmth and dryness swept around her. As interesting as Falwood, and the other parts of Arethil she'd managed to see, had been, she had often found the moisture everywhere--even in the air itself--to be nearly cloying. But night was falling quickly, and she bit her lip at Chaceledon's futile plea to the sun and its warmth.

Chaceledon said:
Chaceledon looked at Seteta. “There’s still some warmth in the sand...we can rest here for tonight? Start out for Mereen in the morning..?”
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"Of course, sehejib," she answered softly. "Maraan is several days away by foot, anyway. We could not hope to reach it tonight."

She twined her fingers with his again, and tugged him away from the portal stone. "We should put some distance between us and the stone, though. We don't know who or what may come through it next. Not all travelers have good intentions."

Seteta bent down briefly, trailing her fingertips through the sand and reaching out with her magic. "There's a warmer spot ahead," she said with a smile and led him toward it.

When they reached it, she released his hand. "Sit on the sand beside me," she said, and when he had done so, she knelt next to him, and buried both her hands in the sand, and called on the magic to raise a dome around them, large enough to move without being cramped, but not quite tall enough to stand in. She blushed slightly, though, remembering what had happened the last time she constructed such a dome. This time, though, there was no sandstorm that she had to shield herself and her companion from, and she made the roof of the dome thin enough to let in the moonlight while still retaining heat.

"There," she said, turning to look at Chaceledon with a smile. "It should stay warm in here till morning."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon followed her, and settled in the warm sand. She made them a dome of it, and he laid down, smiling, looking up at her. Gods he was warm. Comfortable, and it made him sleepy. Dragons basked for hours, sleeping, reading, having lazy sex in the heat. They wallowed in it and enjoyed it, and it felt good to have that trickling back. He pushed himself up on his elbow to kiss her, cradling her cheek.

__________________

In the morning, when Seteta woke, he was gone. At least, outside the tent. His robes were folded neatly outside, as though he’d had them pressed by servants, but the dragon was noticeably absent.

A keening cry sounded through the air. It was musical, like the cry of some great bird or whale. Chaceledon was airborne, twisting into the sky as close to the sun as he dared, flashing his amethyst scales in the morning. His long copper mane whipped in the wind, matched by long tufts on his tail, hocks and elbows. His claws were missing on his front feet, ending in scarred stubs, but his back feet had great curving claws that appeared to be made as though cast in bronze. He was truly a massive creature, being nearly fifty feet long and as thick around as the average seige engine. It would take two trolls stretching fingertip to fingertip to hope to encircle him. He was a ribbon of purple amongst the sands, long and snakelike.

He opened his mouth, and purple flames tinged in yellows and oranges shot through the sky in a plume. He twisted and rose, then plunged down into the sands like a dolphin returning to the water, bursting free again with a shake of his head and ears.

There were glittering fragments of old scales in the sand, like shards of purple sunlight. Chaceledon plunged into the sands and rolled, smoothly, shaking off the excess sand and pushing off toward the sky again. He aimed another plume of flame down at the sand, creating a thick crust of glass teeming with magic. Dragon glass.

Seteta
 
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Seteta smiled fondly as Chaceledon settled on the sand next to her, and if she thought he'd been content at the pet house, it was nothing compared to the near-bliss in his expression and body language now as he leaned up and kissed her. She took off her satchel and pulled out a blanket, spreading it across the sand next to Chaceledon. Lying on her side, she gently tugged him close to her, and kissed him again.


She couldn't really sleep while holding the dome of sand in place around them with her magic, but all she had to do was keep the gentle flow of magic steady. It allowed her to slip into a quiet trance and at least allow her body to rest while still maintaining and awareness of her surroundings and her magic.

At some point, not long after dawn, Chaceledon had stirred and she'd let him out of the dome without pulling herself from the trance. When he didn't return, she finally stirred and pulled herself back to the present moment. She slipped back into her clothes, released the dome of sand, then quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Chaceledon's folded clothes.

When the unfamiliar cry sounded through the air above her, she looked up. To the east, she saw a twisting serpentine form in the sky, reveling in the dawning sun, and as she watched, she heard Chaceledon's quiet words in her memory, the night she'd asked him what he looked like in dragon form.

Chaceledon said:
“Now ask me if I remember.” he muttered. “I remember being long and serpent like, deep amethyst and plum colors with copper edges to my scales. A soft ombré of pink turning to yellows and whites along my mane and the tip of my tail. My mother always said I was built more like her than my father.
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His memory did not do him justice, and as Seteta watched him frolic and fly and spew his plume of flames, tears began to roll gently down her face.

"Welcome home, my love," she whispered quietly.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon saw Seteta, blinking wide copper eyes. He dove down toward her, twisting and doubling back on himself through the air, and extended his forepaws out down toward her. If he’d had the ferocious talons he was born with, he would have been more careful. It was scar tissue and soft padding now, and he aimed to pick her up. He wanted her to fly with him, now that he was no longer chained to he earth. He was so reluctant to return to it, but slowed enough not to hurt her.

Up close, he was heavily scarred. His lovely scales were pitted and warped along his spine where he’d been lashed, and a chunk was missing out of one of his calves just above his hocks, hidden by fur. Come fly with me! he urged her, joy in his voice. He was warm! The flames inside of him were blazing so fully he felt as though he’d burst. He carried her in his arms, and simply tossed her up in the air. He caught her on his back, in the cushion of his wild copper mane, and launched skyward again.

It would be like riding a rope of muscle, careening through the sky, his long neck thrown back and flames announcing their arrival back to the sands. He folded himself in the air, looking back at her to make sure she was alright. This is who I am, not that land bound creature! Are you alright?
Seteta
 
Seteta continued to watch in awe, marveling at the way the sunlight glinted off his scales. She was nearly breathless at the sight, and Chaceledon swooped low to grab her, and her remaining breath left her in a whoosh.

Chaceledon said:
Come fly with me!
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She only had a moment to catch her breath, only a moment to revel in the gentleness of his paws around her, before being tossed in the air and landing on his back. She scrambled to grab hold of his mane, stomach lurching for a few moments as she buried her face against him and tried to catch her breath. Eventually, she managed to get her legs to somewhat straddle him and get situated so that she could, at least a bit, tell by the flex and tense of his muscles what direction--up, down, around--he was about to go. Somewhat.

Chaceledon said:
This is who I am, not that land bound creature! Are you alright?
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Seteta's eyes were wide, hair whipping back behind her with the force of the wind against her face. "I will be fine, sehejib," she answered with as much of a smile as she could summon. It was taking all of her concentration not to let her stomach heave. She was an earth mage and right now she was very far away from the earth. "Could you maybe do less... loops for a bit, though?"

Chaceledon
 
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