Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
“Love really had nothing to do with it. It was standing, and if my mother refused she would have been cast out as something not a dragon. I don’t know if she loves my father. She keeps the house and the land, and manages the estate. She raised three children. As far as dragons are concerned that’s all that’s important in a marriage. I, of course, have a different opinion.” Chaceledon said wryly, considering her questions carefully. He finished one of her braids and started on another, artfully finishing the first with a half-hitch.

“nemahji isn’t mentorship, you don’t learn anything. It’s a power play between families. If you hate a particular dahn you could give a lower-class family member money to bid for them. Or bribe everyone else not to bid to cause humiliation. Mine was a gift by another dahn who’s friends with my father. My brother’s was our uncle, which means he wasn’t trusted enough to spend a night with another family. It’s...punishment. So you’re giving the community a chance to determine your value. Rumor does the rest.”

He laughed at the question of skill and kissed her forehead. “I don’t think I’d worry, most non-dragons are considered non-people. I’d be more worried about him collaring you and taking you into the lawn to relieve yourself.” He grinned, jokingly. He would never allow such a thing.

Seteta
 
Seteta's stomach twisted more and more with each word Chaceledon spoke. Some Abtati tribes were similar, in ways. Seeking renown and power, willing to barter away those dearest to them--or those who should have been dearest--for what they wanted.

It was not a life she wanted. It was not a life she would condemn her children to, either.

She tensed when he kissed her forehead.

"Chaceledon..." she began, worry twisting lightly across her face. "I understand wanting to reconnect with your family... but if they are going to treat me as something less, despite how you feel about me... if they won't even give me the dignity of asking for your hand as an equal... are you sure that returning to them is what you truly want?"

Seteta swore softly then, and shifted to lie on her back, but didn't roll away from Chaceledon's touch. She wasn't trying to make it sound like she was making him pick between her or them, but she felt that she'd worded it poorly.

"I want you to find them. To clear the air, to reconnect, to hopefully have a relationship... but what if they tell you that you can only have them if you set me aside?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon caught the change in her body language. The worry in her face and the way she tended when he touched her. She didn’t like hearing about the things he described, and to be fair not a whole lot of other cultures did. Dragons were as conniving and cruel as they were creative and beautiful. He frowned, and settled a hand on her belly as she turned onto her back.

“I won’t let them treat you that way, Seteta. You are equal to me. I just...want to give them that chance. This hasn’t happened in a very long time, and my parents could have changed...it’s been a lifetime since I’ve been back to them. Perhaps their standing has changed, or Cassius has taken a non-dragon lover, or perhaps my sister has returned. They aren’t evil people, Seteta. Just sequestered away from everyone else. I want to show you to them.” he kissed her, and rested his chin on her chest. “If they insist on me choosing, you know I am choosing you. If they reject the family I’ve found, you and Rheinhard, then I don’t want to live without either of you.”

Seteta
 
Seteta's hand settled over Chaceledon's when it came to rest on her belly, her fingers drawing little circles over his knuckles.

She listened to his words, the tension slowly easing out of her body, but concern was still etched across her face. But she smiled and returned his kiss, tongue sweeping out to tease at his lips for just a moment, and she chuckled when he settled his chin on her chest, his warm breath brushing over her collarbones.

She reached up with her free hand and gently stroked his hair. "I want you to have a choice," she murmured. "The decision to separate oneself from family, permanently, is not one that should be taken lightly. But I also don't want to let you go. So I hope that they're willing to accept you as you are now, and me by your side."

Her expression turned stern for a moment, then, as she continued. "However, this nonsense with the nehmajhi? I will never ever allow my children's virginity to be a bargaining tool. If we marry... if we have children" --for despite Chaceledon's reassurances earlier in their lovemaking that he'd heard of Abtati and dragons having children together before, she wasn't sure it was actually possible-- "they will be as much Abtati as they are dragon, and somehow we'll have to find a way to meld our cultures."

Chaceledon
 
“It wouldn’t be the entire family.” Chaceledon smirked. “There is still Carnelia and her husband, and she never fit the mold of an arrogant dragoness. Who knows? I may be an uncle by now.” He kissed her beastbone, settling half into her torso like a lazy cat. He did nod in agreement. “We won’t make our children do things like that. I know that’s very much a dragon thing. Besides, we don’t know how the kid is going to deal with over six hundred older brothers.”

He was slightly concerned when it came to Rheinhard and the other Volkers. They had been sent to kill their children on many occasions if there happened to be twins or the Well didn’t accept the candidate. He had seen Ferenzi snap the neck of a toddler before. Klaus’ elimination of his...competition...had been nothing short of brutal. Before they performed the Abtati ritual, he was going to have to have a long talk with his children about sharing their mother.

He kissed her breast. “Who knows...perhaps we will have two marriages. One Abtati and one draconian ceremony. I do adore you, but I’ve had my wedding robes planned since I was a hatchling.” He smirked and tapped her nose. “Me and my sister both did.”

Chaceledon traced a finger around her other breast, admiring the shape. “You havent told me anything about your parents. Did you have any siblings?”

Seteta
 
Seteta smiled at Chaceledon's declaration that he might be an uncle by now, but it turned to a smirk as his lips landed on her sternum. She shifted slightly to allow his weight to settle over her without actually crushing her ribs.

"Well... while Rheinhard may house several hundred souls, at least it's only one body that any of our children will have to deal with. Children are resilient and their minds are astonishingly flexible. I'm sure it won't be hard for them to comprehend."

Klaus though... Klaus concerned her. She figured all the others could be reasoned with, to some extent. She didn't know about him yet, if she would ever be able to trust him in any way.

Her thoughts were pulled away when Chaceledon's lips moved over her breast, and she moaned softly, bending a knee to hook it over his hip. A wistful smile crossed her face a moment later.

"My mut, mother, is the high priestess of Abtatu for our tribe." Seteta faltered for a moment then, both because she remembered that her tribe was disbanded, and also because Chaceledon's fingers tracing around her breast made heat begin to spark and swirl through her belly again. "Well... she was. Whatever tribe my parents have joined now, I'm certain she's still a priestess, but she may not be the high priestess. It was somewhat expected that I would follow in her stead one day, and mayhap I yet will. There is time to see what fate holds for me." She shrugged. She was young yet, even for the Abtati's short lifespans compared to most other elves of Arethil.

"Mit, my father..." she laughed quietly then, unsure of how to describe him. "My skills with geomancy come from his mother, my mutit. But mit... he is... the opposite of mut? Mut is very serious about her duties as a priestess, very stoic. She always had time for me, though, but sometimes I could tell my mischievousness grated on her nerves. Mit, well. I got my mischievousness from him. My, ah... how did mut say it? My 'reckless bravery' also came from him."

She shook her head then. "So far as I know, I have no siblings yet."

Her voice turned hesitant then. There was so much she wanted to know, but wasn't sure how or when or what to ask.

"So the robes I burned... were they ones that Oor chose for you, instead of ones you made?" she asked.

Then horror overtook her a moment later. "Oh Abtatu..." she breathed. "Will I have to make robes?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon smiled hearing her talk about her parents. They had been disbanded and broken, but he hoped they had found another tribe to live with. Seteta was a good and kind woman with a tough streak. She’s been raised by good parents. “I can’t wait to meet them one day.” he said fondly. “I’ll probably get along better with your father. Your mother sounds a lot like Rheinhard. Serious and committed to duty.”

He kissed her collarbone, keeping his lazy pace. “My mother is high strung and nervous. She’s quick to tear others down before they can get to her. My father is cold and clever. I got my gifts from my mother; her sharp little tongue as well.”

Chaceledon snorted. She was afraid of making robes? Then again, she hadn’t been born with a sewing needle in her mouth. “I was forced to make those. Marriage in fae culture means you make the robes for your husband or wife, and it’s about thought. You kiss the robes, cry over them, even bleed if you prick yourself with a finger. It’s supposed to show your journey making them; how you loved this person, how they brought you joy and made you laugh. The best made robes with no emotions are worse than a shambling wreck of fabric made with a thousand kisses. Oor never understood that; I made robes for both of us without kissing them once.” he explained, with a dismissive hand wave. “Koiros, they do not need to be perfect. And you can always ask Klaus for help; he is so skilled with sewing. Bribe him with baby birds or rabbits; his favorite treats.”

Seteta
 
Seteta chuckled. "You remind me of my mit in a lot of ways," she confessed, but didn't elaborate for now. She didn't want to think about her father or her mother while Chaceledon was nibbling at her collarbone.

"I'm afraid that shambling wreck of fabric is about what any robes I attempt to make for you will consist of," she laughed wryly. "However, a thousand kisses--even ten times that--is certainly a feat I can manage."

Her hands began to wander over Chaceledon's shoulders and back. He was thin, almost concerningly so, but still she enjoyed the flex of his muscles beneath her fingers. The hitch in his breath when she smoothed a palm down his ribs.

"I think, though... that at some point Klaus and I will need to manage a conversation where he is not trying to kill me right away," she muttered with a frown. "Long before I ask him for any help with marriage robes."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon chuckled, and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, he’ll warm up to you. If not, one out of six hundred won’t mean much.” he pointed out. The dragon laid next to her, enjoying the closeness. It meant so much to him that they could do this...just lay and talk about their lives. He could enjoy watching her, listen to her voice and the way she talked about her family. He adored her, and while he was worried about the road ahead and how Rheinhard would be when they found him, he could do anything by her side.

He settled his cheek on her breast, smiling at the sound of her heart. He sang softly, his eyes closed. He wasn’t as deep of a baritone as Volker, but he sang well.

“Watch that old fire as it flickers and dies,
That once blessed the household and lit up our lives,
It shone for the friends and the clinking of glasses,
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.
Capture the wild things and bring them in line,
And own what was never your right to confine,
The lives and the loves and the songs are what matters,
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.
Do you feel heavy? Your eyes drop with grief,
Your spirit is wild and your suffering is bleak,
So never you buckle and bend to the masses,
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.
Get round the fire with a glass of strong ale,
And tell us a story from beyond the pale,
Bury some seeds and expect some strong branches,
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.
Now show me a man that can meet all his needs,
For what we need most now is unity's seed,
A common old song for all creeds and all classes,
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.
What will we do when the world it is ending,
And time it is halted for friend and for foe?
Try to hold on to the time as it passes,
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.
I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes.”

He smiled and kissed her skin. He hadn’t sung in years. Then again, nor had he flown or seen the desert sun.
Seteta
 
Seteta sighed as Chaceledon kissed her cheek, then settled her head back against the pillow as she thought. One out of six hundred and more might not mean much, but Klaus was also the one who'd attacked her and leered at her more than once. The only reason she had not killed him was because of Rheinhard. She doubted she and Klaus would ever be friends, but she would like if they could establish some sort of dialogue where he wasn't trying to assault her every time he took control.

She was pulled away from those worries, though, when he rested his head on her chest again, and then a quiet thrill went through her as he started to sing.

Seteta listened, stroking her fingers lazily through his hair. When he finished and spread kisses across her skin, she began to speak.

"When Oor captured me... I saw a music room. I had no idea you were skilled in that area until then."

She faltered for a moment then, with a question she had long wanted to ask, but was hesitant to bring up. She didn't want to spoil the mood, but she wasn't sure when she could ask it that wouldn't do so.

"How... did you end up with Oor?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon lifted his head in faint surprise, then smirked and rested his chin on her chest again. “I’m surprised he let you in the main house... that was a song that Brade Volker wrote for me. He was always more musical than I; hailed from Volta.” he muttered, lifting a hand to arrange her braids around her face just so. He had an urge to add amber beads to it, so that they would catch the light and scatter light around her shoulders and chest. She would look so beautiful in desert and earth tones of amber, deep coffee and cream.

He was pulled out of his designing reverie when she asked about Oor. He sighed a bit and dropped his hand from messing with her braids. “It was a stupid party. Dragons celebrate deaths, we don’t mourn them. It’s...actually a little bit of a brag over the Silent Court where all fae go when they expire. The body is burned in dragonfire, ensuring no dragon becomes undead, and there’s a huge party afterwards.” he rolled his eyes. “I invited members of the Silent Court because I wanted to rub it in their faces. I draped everything in black, decorated with white marble bones. They...were surprisingly good sports about the entire affair. They brought Pink Slipper and out-danced us, out-drank us, out-fucked us. In hindsight I probably should have taken the limitations of living bodies into account.”

He smirked and shook his head. “I actually got mad that my friends were falling asleep on their feet while the undead were keeping the whole thing going. There’s nothing worse than being upstaged at your own event, especially as a dragon. God help you if the liquor runs dry or the band grows exhausted. Oor is a Mesial Lord of the Silent Court; something of a baron or minor lord. I didn’t know him, I hadn’t really talked to undead. We brought them so we could look down on them.”

He did feel shame about that particular point, now that he’d become more acquainted with the Silent Court. The undead were colorful, creative, and noble creatures. Not the shambling zombies he’d thought of them as. He had been young, and selfish, and cruel.

“I slept with Oor, embarrassed my father, and was challenged to take shots of Pink Slipper. Understandably, if you’re not used to drinking so much of it...it’s more of a drug. I passed out in my bed with him beside me, and woke up in Witherhold. I was too cold to escape, too angry and proud to call to my family with what little magic I had left, and all of Oor’s kindness vanished like ice in the desert.”

He kissed her nose. “I was a stupid child.”
Seteta
 
Seteta just smiled and shrugged when Chaceledon expressed his surprise.

Chaceledon said:
Chaceledon lifted his head in faint surprise, then smirked and rested his chin on her chest again. “I’m surprised he let you in the main house... that was a song that Brade Volker wrote for me. He was always more musical than I; hailed from Volta.” he muttered, lifting a hand to arrange her braids around her face just so.
Click to expand...

She bit the inside of her lip. She needed to tell him about what happened while she was being held by Oor, but she didn't want to interrupt his story quite yet either. When he finished arranging her hair, she caught his hands with hers and pressed a kiss to his palm, and quietly listened.

Chaceledon said:
"We brought them so we could look down on them.”
Click to expand...

Seteta didn't know much about the fae--her tribe had always gone out of their way to avoid interacting with them, and the fae had never sought them out--but she knew that trying to humilate the fae never ended well.

It seemed it held true for dragons as well.

Chaceledon said:
“I slept with Oor, embarrassed my father, and was challenged to take shots of Pink Slipper. Understandably, if you’re not used to drinking so much of it...it’s more of a drug. I passed out in my bed with him beside me, and woke up in Witherhold. I was too cold to escape, too angry and proud to call to my family with what little magic I had left, and all of Oor’s kindness vanished like ice in the desert.”

He kissed her nose. “I was a stupid child.”
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Seteta caught his lips in a comforting kiss before he pulled away.

"If we cannot be stupid as children, then when can we be?" she murmured. "You are not to blame for Oor's behavior, regardless. You made a mistake, and have paid for it many times over now. Don't be afraid to forgive yourself."

She tugged him up to lie next to her then, and resettled so that she was on her side, tucked into his, with her head on his shoulder. As aggravating as their height difference had been earlier, there were moments she enjoyed it. She liked being enveloped by him, and she tugged his opposite arm over to drape it across her side.

"Persian was there when I woke up in Witherhold," Seteta said after a few quiet moments. "I think Oor sent me around on a tour of Witherhold so I'd stop distracting his guest."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon didnt begrudge her the shift in position. He slid his arm around her and cuddled her close. She was small enough to fit right up against him, and he kissed her sweetly. Her cuddling up to his lanky, scarred body made his heart swell.

“I really should have known better, even that young. At least, even with my disappearance, that party was wildly popular. We had sugar skulls, small treats, rice simmered in spices...all the champagne a man could drink. Pretty women. Pretty men.” he chuckled. “I do miss throwing parties like that.”

His smile faded when she mentioned Persian. He blinked, and tensed. “Koiros, this is very important. Was Kennedi with him? Black slave, he’d be quite well-dressed, and possibly have a large mahogany box with him.” his tone was deathly serious. Gods, if Persian was meeting Oor at Witherhold, that meant it was Oor’s turn to host.

Which meant he might have been bringing along Kennedi to start selections for Rheinhard’s pairing. Gods, would Oor dispose of him that quickly just for running away? He knew the answer. It wasn’t so much about Rheinhard as smashing the ideas of freedom everyone else had.

Chaceledon carefully extricated himself from her and got up, tossing her clothes on the bed. “If Persian was in Witherhold that means they’re drawing up a contract to kill Rheinhard. If that happens, and they pull it off, I won’t be able to get within a hundred miles of that baby. He might even give it the Well as soon as it’s born, just like he did with Klaus...darling we have to go. He isn’t picking up another contract, he’s meeting Persian.”

Seteta
 
"Do you miss throwing parties or throwing orgies?" Seteta huffed lightly. When Chaceledon tensed after she mentioned Persian, though, a chill swept settled along the back of her neck.

Chaceledon said:
“Koiros, this is very important. Was Kennedi with him? Black slave, he’d be quite well-dressed, and possibly have a large mahogany box with him.” his tone was deathly serious.
Click to expand...

"Kennedi was there," she said. "He was the one who showed me around Witherhold."

She sighed sadly as he climbed out of her arms, but didn't try to hold him back. When he tossed her clothes to the bed, she stood and began to put them on as he continued to talk.

"There was mention--briefly--of pairing me with Rheinhard," she confessed. "But other than that, there didn't seem to be any serious discussion of a pairing for him. If Oor was considering me, even purely to get under your skin, I doubt he had any serious prospects yet."

As she sat on the edge of the bed to fasten the sandals Chaceledon had acquired on her feet, she thought back to her conversation with Kennedi. "They--Persian and Kennedi--were there to pick up a shipment of gemstones. Kennedi snuck me in the storeroom to see them." She glanced up at Chaceledon. "You do beautiful work."

Seteta stood and looped her headscarf around her neck, but hesitated when she reached for the goggles.

"Sehejib," she murmured. "I won't deny that Rheinhard's situation is urgent, regardless of what Oor might be planning. But you need to eat if you're thinking to fly us anywhere."

Chaceledon
 
  • Bless
Reactions: Chaceledon
“Ghat!” Chaceledon swore as she dressed. “My darling do you think Persian paid gold for those crystals of mine? It would be just like him to pay for Rheinhard’s death with my work. I knew I should have destroyed them.” He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing at the compliment. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to craft a nice one to ram down that corpse’s throat.”

The dragon gave her a look as the subject came up again. “Seteta, I have been through a hundred such deaths, perhaps more. Kennedi manages pet breeding and sale for Persian; he probably knows just about as much as Persian himself. If he’s made an appearance, then Oor is trying to finalize this quickly. If talks fall apart he could use...anyone. Literally any girl off the street. I will eat when he’s safe, I promise you.”

Chaceledon took her hand, and transformed. His dragon form was enormous, and his scales were tough enough to smash the bed to kindling and kick a wall out into the stairwell. The window he simply head butted, shaking glass out of his mane like an irritated horse. Get on, my darling.

Seteta
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
Reactions: Seteta
Seteta took a deep breath as Chaceledon shielded her from the intensity of his transformation as the room was destroyed around them.

She didn't want to force the issue. But one of the things her tribe had always held to was that you couldn't help anyone else if you weren't taking care of yourself.

She knew Chaceledon had emptied his stomach after he left her in the tavern, on the way to buy clothes. He'd tried to hide it, but she had seen it in the way his hand trembled when he returned, and suspected. The way his gaze had fallen on the remaining food at the table had confirmed it.

They'd not had dinner the night before, focused on tracking down Rheinhard, and then on reaching Amol-Kalit through the portal stone. They'd not had breakfast.

It had been at least an entire day since Chaceledon had eaten, and he'd taken his dragon form for the first time in nearly twenty millennia. Regardless of anything else, that was a lot of magic to begin working with again without nourishment, even if it was his natural form.

Chaceledon said:
Get on, my darling.
Click to expand...

She took a deep breath again, and took a step away.

"No," Seteta answered. "Not until you eat something. Even if we made it to wherever you're thinking to take us without any problems, you've gone without nourishment for too long. We might make it there, and you won't have the strength to find Rheinhard."

Annuakat would still be nearly two days away by flight, especially since they'd have to stop for the night. Pedeo even further.

"I know you... emptied your stomach earlier. That means you haven't eaten in over a day. You're using more magic than you have in a very long time. It's not a matter of if you will weaken, it's a matter of when."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon stared at her for a moment. She was right. He hadn’t eaten in almost a day and a half and even standing here on four legs felt dizzying. He hated to admit it, but she was right. He’d gotten emotional and turned, and now the room kept tilting. I am fine... he started, taking a step forward to grab the edge of the broken wall in his forepaw. Looking down at the rubble, along with the street below, made his stomach lurch. The street seemed to fall away the more he stared at it.

He blinked a few times, and shook his head. Why wouldn’t the room stay still? His elbows shook and he sat down on his haunches. This was ridiculous! He could survive without a little food! His children were in danger! It was they and Seteta who mattered!

Chaceledon collapsed onto his stomach, his neck folding along his back briefly and coming to a sliding stop among the wreckage of the bed. His tail and one back leg still trailed down the stairwell. Tunnel vision forced him to close his eyes. He passed out, his purple eyes rolling back up into his head and his mouth going slack. His whiskers twitched. He was dehydrated, as evidenced by the scales bunched around his neck and ribs, and his body was desperately hungry.

Seteta
 
Seteta swore, leaping back out of the way as Chaceledon crumpled. If she got stuck under him, there was nothing she would be able to do to get free until he woke.

She'd hoped he wasn't this weakened already. That he would have at least been able to turn back and rest until she had brought food and drink for him.

Sighing with frustration, she did her best to make sure that he wasn't at an awkward angle where he'd suffocate himself before she got back, and then she climbed over him carefully, and headed downstairs back to the tavern.


She returned a while later with a tray and having sent for a healer. Specifying what kind of healer had been... difficult. She hadn't even bothered to ask for a dragon healer, and so had just asked that someone who knew anything about reptiles be sent up as soon as they were found.

It was a bit of a challenge to get back up the stairwell with Chaceledon's tail and leg taking up most of the space, especially without spilling the food, but Seteta managed eventually.

She wasn't quite sure how to tend to a starving dragon, but she knew that when someone hadn't been eating enough for a very long time, you couldn't just stuff them full of food. So she'd brought plain bone broth and plain rice and fruit-infused water.

Settling the tray on the now-broken bed near his snout, Seteta sat next to Chaceledon's head and coaxed a lip out of the way, carefully spooning the broth between his teeth.

"Please wake up soon," she whispered, biting anxiously at her lip.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon woke a few hours later. He swallowed reflexively, feeling broth run down his throat. Well, at least broth wasn’t hearty or fattening. He licked his lips to clean his face and slowly opened his eyes. Still dizzy. He shut them and brought his legs properly underneath him like a cat, so he didn’t appear all...splayed out. Of course, appearance was the first thing he tended to.

Ye gods how many people had seen him like this?! Legs flopped about and mouth hanging open? Soup on his face?! He took one look at the healer and lifted his lips, showing off a dazzling array of well-cared-for fangs. Like any large predator, he had fangs the length of Seteta’s arm, serrated incisors, and premolars a man could have used as an axe head. Large flat molars indicated he was at least omnivorous, if not leaning heavily on meat. If the healer stayed he’d reinforce his want not to be seen with a vicious growl and a little smoke from his nostrils.

When they were alone he begrudgingly sat up and licked broth from the bowl like a cat. His bifurcated tongue was thick and broad through the split like any gecko, and he was able to fold one over the other to make a bowl at the end of his tongue. He dipped it into the broth like a ladle, taking purposeful and surprisingly dainty sips.

I’m sorry, Seteta. he apologized, and laid his head back down. You were right, and I should have listened.

Seteta
 
Seteta whacked Chaceledon on the nose with the spoon when he made to growl at the healer.

"Don't you dare," she hissed, her voice belying the frustrated tears she'd shed while he was unconscious. "I couldn't take care of you by myself."

However, now that he was awake and able to speak with her, Seteta turned to the healer with a grateful nod and dismissed them. She watched quietly for a few moments while Chaceledon began to feed himself.

Chaceledon said:
I’m sorry, Seteta. he apologized, and laid his head back down. You were right, and I should have listened.
Click to expand...

Her face softened, and she reached over to stroke her hands over his dragon face. "Will you listen to me in the future?" she asked. "I have no desire to boss you around, but how can I trust you to take care of me, or any children we might have, if you can't take care of yourself?"

She took a deep breath and let the tension slide out of her shoulders as she exhaled, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Chaceledon's nose.

"I don't know enough about dragon physiology," she spoke, "so the healer and I had to guess at a lot of things. We suspect that, because of your long captivity where you weren't able to take your form, you've essentially been in hibernation for seventeen thousand years. You've barely been eating enough to keep your human form alive, let alone your dragon form. You have no reserves. You're dehydrated and malnourished.

"I know..." she hesitated here for a moment, because she knew the urgency of Rheinhard's situation, but if Chaceledon was incapacitated, there was little Seteta would be able to do to help the man. "I know things are urgent right now. But you can't fly for a while. You have to gain some weight, and build your stamina back up.

"Your body--either of them--can't do what you need if you aren't nourishing them. We'll still need to take a caravan, at least for a few days, but we can split off from them once you've regained your strength."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon blinked in surprise when she struck him on the nose. Not many would have dared to do something so casual to a fully grown dragon. It took him aback, and he stopped growling to stare at her for a moment. She gentled soon, and touched his cheek. He leaned into her hands a bit, pulling his tail up from the stairwell to curl around them.

I suppose hibernation makes sense...I don’t know of any dragons that stay in the cold that long. He admitted sheepishly. You’re right. I can’t help anyone like this...and I can’t fail you, or Rheinhard. He finished the bowl, and quietly began eating the rice. Slowly, and as fussily as he could. He couldn’t stand the idea of being messy with food.

He pulled her close with his tail. Are you alright?

Seteta
 
Seteta felt even more relief wash through her as Chaceledon began willingly eating. She knew the battles were far from over, especially when she would begin shoving food at him several times a day as the healer at recommended. But it was a start.

He had, at long last, acknowledged that he did need to eat, and that alone made her want to leap for joy.

Chaceledon said:
He pulled her close with his tail. Are you alright?
Click to expand...

Her hands began softly playing over the scales on his tail. "I'm not hurt," she murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his muzzle. "Though I'm not sure that the innkeeper will accept the honor of housing a dragon in exchange for the damages to his inn."

She had some ideas for compensation, things that Chaceledon wouldn't need to concern himself with. Especially if she could find a few other Abtati in Maraan, preferably ones she knew.

"Do I need to find a caravan heading for Annuakat or Pedeo?" she asked.

Dusk was falling now, but she could go first thing in the morning. The healer had recommended that they wait a day to begin travel, at least until Chaceledon was better hydrated.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon snorted and licked his lips, tilting his head up and flicking his small ears. As though they’d dare to charge us with anything. The innkeeper will have to content himself with the story of a dragon destroying a room. He’ll be able to charge more because of it. He sniffed arrogantly. Annuakat. We’ll never get into Pedeo without Rheinhard.

Chaceledon finished the rice, and slowly pushed himself up onto his forelimbs. He settled into his haunches and lifted himself up properly. He was still a bit dizzy, but now he felt well enough to walk. If we can keep up appearances, we can get into the caravan purely based on having a dragon in it. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Hopefully we will have a few days.

Seteta
 
Seteta sighed and shook her head. Chaceledon was so sure of the affection a dragon could buy with its mere presence. She doubted it would be like that for long. Most stories known about dragons now were ones of murder and fire.

That wasn't a discussion for now, though.

"What good will going to Annuakat be if Rheinhard is in Pedeo?" she asked. "And... we might get in. Persian was... interested in me. When he saw me at Witherhold. I asked him for a favor, if I were to escape Oor and come to Pedeo."

She watched warily as Chaceledon sat up, still swaying, but he steadied after a few moments.

"Do you think you can shift back yet?" she asked.

Chaceledon
 
Persian and Oor will be in Annuakat. You forget, Rheinhard has been...off the leash for a bit. Oor will want to demonstrate his control rather than breed immediately...it could appear to other fae that he’s lost control of the Volker family if he disposes of Rheinhard before a test. It’s another game, like dragons do. It’s hard to forget we’re both fae with these endless gods be damned games. Chaceledon said bitterly, flicking his tail like an irritated cat. He was confident in his decision. They had to be in Annuakat. He remembered vaguely some talk of a tournament there...Oor wouldn’t dare miss the opportunity to show off. Especially not with Persian so close. They would arrive, chase Oor off, and claim Rheinhard. It wouldn’t be easy.

One had to play the game. Chaceledon was playing to win. They had to be above reproach, and quietly remove Oor from the area without disrupting it. He gave Seteta a look. Was she ready? He was ready to face Oor, flames blazing, and publicly embarrass him in a triumphant moment. It would do well to eviscerate him in front of Annuakat nobles and begin tumbling his reputation to the ground.

This will never be as simple as chasing Oor down and killing him. Oor has allies among Fae, mortals, and possibly dragons. Unless we want to kick a wasp nest, we ruin his reputation among them first. Give the appearance he’s lost control, and make them lose confidence in Rheinhard’s loyalty to Oor but not his abilities. After all, we may need to bank on them. This is how the game of courts is played. Give me a moment and I’ll transform back.

Seteta
 
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