Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Oscar looked at the sand in front of the camel and tutted. “Do you mind a bit of civilization? The desert is a hopelessly romantic place, but a dog does feel so out of place.” He told Seteta. Chaceledon folded his arms, and nodded. Oscar snapped a finger, and a persian rug came up out of the sand, shivering irritably to shake any grains off. Oscar pulled a chair out from under his coat, dark wood with a generous seat stitched in dark pink. A small table came out as well, upon which he placed a porcelain tea set decorated with little ceramic flamingoes.

Oscar set a tiered metal stand with tea cakes and petit fours next to the tea set, and poured her a cup as she spoke. A little ottoman sprouted under her rear. Another for Chaceledon. The dragon settled down on it, and rolled his eyes as Oscar planted the parasol in the ground. It grew like a tree, until they were shaded in lovely sherbet light.

Oscar dumped five lumps of sugar into his teacup, and poured a steaming cup from the flamingo kettle’s mouth. “My dear sweet creature, it isn’t so complicated as a wish for oneself.” He poured them each a cup, and offered Seteta hers. “I was merely asked if a suitable magician that could break the infertility curse of the Abtati was among this caravan...as well as any virile men. There is, of course, but one. I don’t suppose he’s up for a bit of a...conjugal visit is he?”

“Unlikely.” Chaceledon growled sourly, though he did take the teacup.

Seteta
 
Seteta couldn't help but be impressed as Oscar worked his own magic, and made a little parlor for them, though she made a quiet exclamation of surprise as the seat appeared beneath her.

"There is no magician that can undo the binding," Seteta said as she accepted the cup of tea. "It is not a curse, nor a spell, but a god's blessing and protection. And there are several virile men amongst the caravan."

But only one male Abtati with the geomancy line Persian desperately seeks. And that she didn't dare to say aloud.

Chaceledon said:
"I don’t suppose he’s up for a bit of a...conjugal visit is he?”

“Unlikely.” Chaceledon growled sourly, though he did take the teacup.
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She smiled fondly, despite rolling her eyes slightly, at Chaceledon's protectiveness, then turned her attention back to Oscar.

"If the one you speak of is the one I suspect, then... no. He has plenty of conjugal duties to attend to already."

Seteta sipped at her tea, continuing to observe Oscar. She didn't know what she could offer him or the Lord of Luck that might get them to sway from Persian's goals, and she hoped Chaceledon might have an idea.

Chaceledon
 
Oscar sighed with disappointment, as though she’d told him his favorite ball was canceled. “That’s quite disappointing, but the demand for a trained Abtati pet these days has become more of a curiosity. Salvaging the project would take a miracle, but if ever there was a man who enjoyed a challenge...” Oscar took a sip of his tea. “Persian is in Annuakat on a business matter, darlings. My own master is there as well. It’s become less of a business arrangement and more of an argument, I fear. Fae dealings are always bloody.”

Chaceledon straightened a bit at that. “What is Rosebury tangling with Oor for?”

Oscar gave a long suffering sigh and bit into a petit fours. “Oh, the usual. The Cardinals of the Silent Court disapprove, there are limits to spell work Rheinhard is expected to hit at some point or another. Old arguments they trot out like ancient cart ponies. Persian is attempting to bargain for Seteta if Oor succeeds in recapturing you, my master has bid for your freedom...it’s quite the small disaster. Three men arguing over one dragon and one gifted Geomancer.”

“Rosebury has always disliked the concept of the Volkers. It doesn’t surprise me he’s arguing to let the whole lot pass through the veil rather than another pairing. They haven’t settled on anyone have they..?”

Oscar made a pinched face. “Your darling son has butchered four women in cold blood, and released Klaus upon the fifth. They were scraping pieces of her off the walls.” He shuddered. “It’s become a hideous business and Persian is desperate to recoup losses.”

Chaceledon settled back. Gods. The punishment Rheinhard must be going through. “There are two other women but currently, Rheinhard is threatening to geld himself. The alternative is to make him bear the child using my master’s own spell work, but that caused yet another argument. You see why I’m more than happy to come out here, dear. It’s hardly conversation I want to be anywhere near. My master’s spell to grant men wombs was intended to...well...not everyone is interested in women.” He sighed and looked at Seteta. “Forgive the uncouth subject, my dear.”

“So Persian’s not likely to come after the caravan..?”

“Just keeping an eye on it, I suppose, until his patience cracks and he fancies a capture.”

Seteta
 
Seteta just sipped her tea as Oscar and Chaceledon spoke. She felt badly for the poor women Rheinhard and Klaus had killed... but she also knew that he felt he had no other option in the matter.

When Oscar begged her pardon for the subject matter, though, she just smiled. "It's not as if I didn't travel with Rheinhard for weeks. I've tangled with Klaus myself, but that wouldn't be the first time I've dealt with... well, I'm Abtati. For many, many years, the humans of Amol-Kalit have targeted us as well. My tribe's dwindling numbers were not solely the fault of Persian. We've also been hunted down for sport simply because of our ears."

She smirked over the edge of her tea cup then, too. "It's not like I've never slept with a woman myself."

Then her thoughts turned back to the more immediate issue at hand. Her family, and their caravan.

"It's not like we aren't headed straight to Annuakat," she said. "Persian would be a fool to attack us before we reached there.

She didn't know how much of what she said would make it back to Oor or Persian, though, even indirectly, so she didn't say the rest of her thoughts.

We should split off in Ragash. Tell Supti to change his route and not go straight to Annuakat, she mused silently, setting the teacup back on its saucer with a quiet clink.

In the distance, she heard the caravan guards and supervisors beginning to get the camels up. It was almost time to head out.

Chaceledon
 
Oscar tutted. "Nasty business, that. Most recently their ideas have been trotting out young men to catch his interest. Thankfully, he's just shoved Nestor in charge and that man's veins wont be piqued by anything but a decent library. They're simply switching out whenever those three change tactics, and while it's become a bit of a game on the Volker side, they won't be patient forever." He chuckled. "I quite like a few of them."

"They're working together?" Chaceledon said in surprise, and eyed Seteta. He'd assumed she'd slept with women before, but the idea was fascinating. An image sprung to mind of that lovely mouth on another set of pouty, feminine lips. He cleared his throat and shoved the image away. Not now.

"Too right you are, Seteta. You're prancing straight for them, they'd be fools to lunge after you now." Oscar agreed. "Politics. You'll get used to it dear; you're with a dragon. Whether this ends with you both in collars or Oor dead, I wish you luck."

Chaceledon nodded, and Oscar whisked the tea kettlle back under his coat like it hadn't just been filled with steaming liquid. The petit fours followed, with the small table and seating bringing up the rear. The rug vanished under the sand. "Oh, and Chaceledon, pet..."

The dragon raised an eyebrow. "..please do consider opening up shop. My master despairs that his suits are starting to go out of fashion, and people talk."

Oscar approached Seteta and kissed the air above her hand. "Lovely to have met you." he leaned in close and whhispered into her ear. "Check your pocket." With that, the zombie plucked his parasol out of the ground, upon which it became normal, and stood back to let them enter their camel tent. Chaceledon helped Seteta in, and slid inside after her. He made sure her cushions were comfortable, and that she had some water.

Inside her pocket was a small card. It was quite thick, and lined with gold leaf. On one side, an embossed image of two gears inside of a pet collar. On the back, in a flourishing script:

What sort of favour did you have in mind? - Persian
 
"You got free of Oor," Seteta murmured at Chaceledon's surprise, hearing the Volkers were working together. "They probably have hope, for the first time ever, that they might get free too. But they'll know it's impossible if Rheinhard is bred" --it was so distasteful to say it like that, but she didn't know what else to call it right now-- "before you can get back to him. So they're working together."

Seteta stood as Oscar spoke, but her eyes hardened for a moment as he mentioned the collars.

She'd thought it before, in Witherhold, but knowing what she knew now of her tribe's past--and knowing there was something more she had yet to be told--hardened her resolve.

She'd rather die than wear a pet collar.

When Oscar leaned close and whispered to check her pocket, she was puzzled, but simply nodded and watched as he departed.

Once settled in the howdah with Chaceledon, the camel having stood and the day's journey begun, she reached into her pocket, and withdrew the gilded card. The pet collar and gears were simple enough to recognize, but when she flipped it over, the thin, flowing loops of script were... odd.

"Is this from Persian?" she asked, shoving it in Chaceledon's face. "What does it say?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon nodded quietly, feeling a new sense of responsibility on his shoulders. He couldn’t fail Rheinhard. The Volkers having hope for the first time in centuries...he couldn’t let him down. He couldn’t see that light, if indeed it was there, fade. He knew what hope meant. Rheinhard had long dreamed of owning a quiet plot of land and working the fields with a mate. Now it may finally happen.

He settled into the howdah with her, kissing her and curling against her side. Before he could settle in for another long day, she thrust a card at him. He blinked, and squinted through the oily film of a dragon in shed. “It says, What sort of favor did you have in mind?” he read aloud. “You did mention you asked him for a favor....is he finally fed up with Oor killing his pets?”

He turned the card over in his fingers, thinking. “What do you want to say back?”
Seteta
 
"You've said he values his pets highly," Seteta pointed out. "He was probably annoyed after the first one that was killed."

She watched, thinking, as Chaceledon flipped the card in his fingers.

"I honestly have no idea," she sighed. "When I made that proposition back in Witherhold, I thought we'd be heading straight to Pedeo, and we would need to ask him to shelter us. That seems... not needed as much, anymore. And I don't want to be beholden to him now if I don't have to.

"Is it... something where we have to reply right away? Or can we wait?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon mulled it over. “I don’t know. I wanted to see if I could take the Lion House from Oor, and this seems to be a good time to ask that. It could give us a place to live while I form a plan to present myself to my parents. I can’t just show up. I have to...have something to show my mother. And I despise the thought of him leaving me destitute.” he muttered the last under his breath and offered her back the card. “Darling, can you not read? Or is it only common?”

He laid down next to her, smirking. Now he could pass the time with her teaching her to read. That might be a fun proposition. He laid on his back and ignited some of the dust motes in the air to spell her name. “I can teach you, if you like?”

Seteta
 
"I guess we'll wait then," Seteta said as Chaceledon settled next to her. "I'm not going to carelessly ask for a favor. Persian didn't do anything to get me out of Witherhold, so I don't owe him now. Asking Kennedi to relay the message was simply a way to keep some options open."

She eyed the card dubiously as she took it from him, holding it by a single corner. "That doesn't have any sort of spell on it like the little golden bird, does it?"

She laughed quietly when he ignited the dust motes, and wrote something in the air with his flame.

"A lot of Abtati pass down histories and genealogy through song and spoken story," she said. "Written documents and such are cumbersome to haul through the desert. Too easy for them to get lost or ruined. The Inizae do have a script they use occasionally, but Common..."

Seteta trailed off there, and shrugged a moment later. "While I've learned some Common, for speaking and for reading, I've never had the need to write it, and this" --she waved Persian's card in the air-- "type of writing is always most difficult, because it can vary so much between each person."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon eyed the card for a moment. “No. It doesn’t. I’d wager Oscar’s going to start handing out little trinkets to people that do, however. Either melt them or bury them in salt.” he gestured to the words of flame in the air. “That’s your name. I know it’s not exactly as though you were raised with it...but you really ought learn to read common. Write a little better. It helps if you trace the letters I made in the air, like so.”

He grasped her hand and kissed her palm, then used her finger to write over the scrolling script of her name. “S-e-t-e-t-a.” he said lightly, and curled into her side. He wrote another name under the first. “And my name. C-h-a-c-e-l-e-d-o-n.” he smiled and rested his head on her shoulder.

Seteta
 
"I never really had a need before now," Seteta shrugged, but smiled as he helped her trace her name in the air, and then his.

The day went by quietly, and quickly, for which Seteta was grateful. Chaceledon coached her through a refresher of the alphabet used for the Common tongue, common words, and various other questions that came up, stopped for brief periods of rest whenever Seteta's hands would start aching again. When they stopped for the afternoon rest, she pulled him out of the howdah and down to the sand, scrawling out her name and cobbling together what his would be in the Inizae script. There wasn't a word in Abtat for the gem he was named after, not that she knew of, so she had to put it together by sound.

Before the caravan started back up, she visited briefly with Kahi and Anai, and let Supti know about the visit from Oscar that morning. When she wandered back to the howdah and Chaceledon, there was a quiet gleam in her eye and a smile teasing at her lips.

"We'll be traveling a few more hours after dark than we normally would," she said. "We're near one of the better oases between Maraan and Ragash, and Kahi and Anai convinced Supti to detour for it."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon was a patient teacher, going over the alphabet. The draconian alphabet was something else they went over, though it was a tangled mess of slashes and icons that changed based on inflection, context, and angle of the slashes. For instance, water looked like a T with two stems, but if one wanted to reference making water, one of the legs was slightly longer when placed next to the verb for make. It was a complex language, and Chaceledon only went over it briefly. Common was much easier, but he was worried about the dragons using language to cut her out of conversation.

He used one of the camel whips to guide her writing. His own handwriting was impeccable even in sand, and he held her to the same standard. She did need rest for her poor hands, and the lessons were short.

Chaceledon napped while she told Supti of Oscar’s visit. They hadn’t shaken the zombie; he followed along behind them amicably, as though incidentally strolling with them. He didn’t harm or threaten a soul, and chatted with people who consented to speak with him. Of course, quietly hiding tiny golden birds among the caravan. Chaceledon was wise to his tricks. He made it count; a friendly little game.

Chaceledon perked up at the mention of the oasis. Oh, thank the gods! He was growing blinder by the hour, and he was so itchy he couldn’t sit still. He needed a soak. He laid next to her, trying to make his squirming subtle. Morning. All he needed to do was last till morning. Even so, he barely slept for the discomfort.

______________

The scent of the water woke him. He kissed Seteta, but he couldn’t wait. He had large flakes of skin rising off every piece of him, his hair was crumbling, his eyes itched. He climbed out of the howdah, barely able to see but for light and sound. He shed his brown robes irritably, standing naked outside, and walked away from the camel.

The oasis was large, thank the gods, and he was about to take full advantage of it. He transformed, but it wasn’t the beautiful creature he’d shown Seteta. He was dull, his eyes milky and mane plastered to his neck. He lunged for the water, and plunged deep into it. He heard the startled cries of the camels, and he was fairly sure a few tried to bolt away from the massive predator. Chaceledon streamed into the warm water, submerging every piece of himself as deep as it would go.

Oscar caught Seteta’s camel as the animal made an uncomfortable noise and began to rise. “Steady there.” Oscar patted its cheek and watched the last of Chaceledon’s tufted tail slide into the clean water. “Good morning, Seteta. Would you mind joining me for a bit of a constitutional while the dragon soaks?”

Chaceledon showed absolutely no sign of moving from the water. Occasionally his nose would tip up, and a pair of glistening nostrils would be seen briefly to puff out air, draw in a breath, and submerge again. Oscar laid out the chairs and rug again, setting out sandwiches and fried balls of dough dipped in chocolate. Fae had astounding sweet tooth’s, and Oscar was no exception. “Coffee?” He suggested up to the howdah, giving Seteta as much time as she needed to come out.

Seteta
 
Seteta barely stirred when Chaceledon left the howdah, and the only reason she did not fall back into sleep--the first restful sleep she'd had since they returned to Amol-Kalit, really--was she heard the camels panic and her own mount began to rise beneath her.

Chaceledon said:
“Good morning, Seteta. Would you mind joining me for a bit of a constitutional while the dragon soaks?”
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At the sound of Oscar's voice, she groaned. The pain in her hands had finally faded, and she wanted to sleep but apparently it was being forbidden.

Chaceledon said:
“Coffee?” He suggested up to the howdah, giving Seteta as much time as she needed to come out.
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Seteta sighed, combed through her hair with her fingers and made sure her clothes were situated on her properly, and climbed out of the howdah.

"Morning is a bit generous," she huffed, glaring up at the yet-starry sky. The first light of dawn was only just making its appearance to the east. "And yes, please, coffee."

She waited for the coffee silently, settling into one of the chairs as she watched Chaceledon--what little she could see of him--soaking in the water. She suspected that Supti would switch them over to night travel after this. It would be easier on the animals, and would give them the whole day to rest and relax at the oasis.

"You have until the other ladies in the caravan drag me away to bathe to say what you want to say," Seteta said, glancing back at Oscar.

Chaceledon
 
Oscar gave her a wounded look, setting a cup of coffee in front of her in a loud turquoise cup. The color theme for today seemed to be pale blue, with the rug underneath them depicting a naked dragon in human form reclining in water. It spared nothing to the imagination, and the figures face faintly resembled Chaceledon. “Dear me youre less of an elf and more of a honey badger in the morning.” Oscar said. “Fearing neither cobras nor dragons of old, and greeting the dawn with a flash of white fang.”

The zombie settled into his own chair to watch Chaceledon. “I came to watch a dragon shed. It’s said to be a quite entrancing experience.” He sipped his coffee. “Cream? Sugar?” He dropped a handful of little sugar fish in his own cup from a dish. “And I have two children from this caravan aching for adventure who are going to follow me back, so I’m a bit tangled in arranging transport.”

Chaceledon waited until the dawn reached the water, and began to move. He slithered around himself in the water, rubbing his face against his side and tail. The old skin peeled back, and he shrugged it down his neck like an old scarf. Underneath was nothing short of rapture. His scales shone like amethysts, bright and bursting with color. They caught the morning light and shimmered. Once his mane was free, shining copper floated up, longer than Seteta had ever seen. Thick, healthy. Oscar smiled in approval.

Seteta
 
"Apologies," Seteta murmured, though not feeling very apologetic at all. "I've barely slept in three days, and was finally drifting off without pain for the first time in two days when you..." intruded was what she wanted to say, but she paused to find a less caustic word "...summoned."

That was probably not the best word, but Seteta was tired and it was the only alternative her brain was giving her in the Common tongue.

"Cream and sugar, please," she said, and quietly thanked him when he handed her the cup of coffee.

She snorted softly at his comment about adventurous children. "Young Abtati are like that," she said, appreciative of the irony that she herself was still a young Abtati.

When the dawn's light hit the water, Seteta straightened in her seat, watching with rapt attention as Chaceledon slithered around under the water, his scales breaking the surface from time to time as he twisted around. She smiled, breath catching, as the sunlight gleamed off his freshly grown scales and his longer, fuller mane.

He's so beautiful, she thought. I still can't believe, sometimes, that he chose me.

Chaceledon
 
Oscar chuckled and set a small box on the table. “Cannabis chocolates. A delicacy from the south. Take them as my apology for waking you; they should allow you to sleep without pain.” He told her gently, and took up his sandwich. He nibbled delicately at it; egg salad and bacon this morning, drizzled with hollandaise. Rosebury’s kitchen was in rare form. He smiled in utter contentment. “The same itch I believe led you to Falwood, where you first became a thorn in a certain wraith’s side.” He chuckled, waggling his fingers at a pair of young women who no doubt had the pleasure of his company. An undead man, after all, had stamina the living just lacked. They giggled and headed for the water.

Chaceledon freed his shoulders, and forelimbs, lifting a glistening coil of amethyst beauty free from the water. Thick, leathery, and see-through skin slumped down his spine. He freed his legs, then his tail, and slithered well and truly free from his skin. He trundled ashore, looking shockingly awkward on four short limbs with such a long body. He shook his mane free, and pulled the skin out of the water with his tail as though he’d forgotten a towel. He folded it neatly, and began rolling in the sand to polish himself.

Oscar chuckled. He looked a bit like a horse, flinging himself on his side and slithering through the sand with all four limbs skyward. He finished off his sandwich and picked up another. “I can’t say I’m not envious.” He leaned in conspiratorially, and gestured to Chaceledon. Normally, dragons tucked their genitals in neatly. Chaceledon’s, for the moment and rapidly disappearing, was on proud display.

He shook himself, using his magic to fluff his mane and shake the last of the sand off of him as droplets of glass. His colors would dull slightly, but for the moment he was crystalline beauty.

Seteta
 
Seteta smiled, but shook her head and pushed the box of chocolates back. "Thank you, but the pain has abated now, and these wouldn't help, regardless," she explained. "There is nothing that takes the pain away when I have to pay the toll for my magic."

Chaceledon said:
“The same itch I believe led you to Falwood, where you first became a thorn in a certain wraith’s side.” He chuckled, waggling his fingers at a pair of young women who no doubt had the pleasure of his company.
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She grinned over her the edge of her coffee cup. "I wouldn't change it," she said quietly. "Even knowing what I do now, I'd still make the same choice. Even with as uncertain as our future still is."

Seteta giggled quietly as Chaceledon pulled himself out of the water on his short, almost-stumpy, legs. She'd not seen him walk around in dragon form before, only flying or... collapsed. Like this, he looked like... a beautiful, awkward snake. With legs.

Chaceledon looked positively relaxed, though, as he wriggled around on the sand.

Chaceledon said:
“I can’t say I’m not envious.” He leaned in conspiratorially, and gestured to Chaceledon.
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Seteta felt her face heat, a blush slowly crawling up from her collarbones to her forehead, and she stretched out a hand to block Oscar's line of sight as she cleared her throat, trying to keep her thoughts... somewhat chaste, for the moment.

But she couldn't deny that she had wondered. About many, many things.

She lowered her hand once Chaceledon was back on his feet, shaking his mane out. She heard Kahi and Anai making their way down the caravan, as well, but she wasn't quite ready anymore to greet them. She did not want to explain her blush.

So she stayed, sipping at her coffee, and waiting for Chaceledon to finish.

Chaceledon
 
“Ah, young love is truly precious.” Oscar agreed cheerfully. She really was in love with Chaceledon. He could see by the way she was looking at him, her gentle laugh at the ridiculously short-legged hobble dragons did. Chaceledon was a pretty thing but even he didn’t look graceful on land.

Oscar let out a hearty laugh when she covered his eyes. He batted her hand away playfully, his eyes lighting at her blush. “You’d not be the first nor the last, darling.” He waved at Anai and Kahi. “It seems there’s your bath. Come now, there’s no shame blushing over a man that’s already yours.” Oscar grabbed a third sandwich.

Chaceledon galloped a bit, pushing off with his back legs and lunging forward. He looked ridiculous, hopping like a mink in the sand. He slid forward on his belly like a seal, using his powerful tail to guide him to where Oscar was breakfasting. He returned to his human form, and shook out his hair again. The thick mane of silken copper had been restored, and he was clearly relishing it. Not only that, it had grown out a solid foot and was now almost down to his knee. Chaceledon himself was an inch taller.

“Well done. And your plans for the skin?” Oscar asked, nodding to where the neatly folded dragon skin lay on the shore.

“Don’t even think about it, I know what that fetches in Rosebury’s circles.” Chaceledon smirked and grabbed his robes. He needed to wash them before putting them back on. He smiled at Seteta. “Good morning. I thought you’d have slept in.”

“That’s my fault, I’m afraid.” Oscar mentioned.
“Well youre in dire need of a good bath and I need to properly roll that skin for Supti before it dries. As thanks for letting us come with him.”

“An entire dragon skin for a caravan ride? I didn’t think charity was one of your new values.”

Seteta
 
Seteta sniffed daintily as Oscar gently batted her hand aside.

Chaceledon said:
“You’d not be the first nor the last, darling.” He waved at Anai and Kahi. “It seems there’s your bath. Come now, there’s no shame blushing over a man that’s already yours.”
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"Perhaps not first nor last," she agreed, knowing that in all likelihood Chaceledon would outlive her by centuries if not millennia, "but I'm the current, and I'd appreciate getting to be the only one to ogle him at the moment."

As Chaceledon returned, Seteta set her coffee aside and stood, stretching up to kiss him. Or, rather, attempting to.

"You're not going grow an inch every time you shed, are you?" she frowned.

She was surprised when he mentioned giving his shed skin to Supti, though, and her frown softened into a fond smile again. Kahi and Anai were just joining them, and Seteta blushed slightly again as they started giggling and tittering over Chaceledon's mostly naked form, but for the clothes he held.

"Hush," Seteta scowled at them, but her eyes were playful as she greeted the two women with a smile a moment later.

Kahi just smiled, and turned to Chaceledon as both women looped their arms around Seteta's waist. "We'll taking her for a while, if you don't mind," Kahi said. "By the time you're done bathing, Supti should have the tent set up for the day, and I'm sure Seteta showed you the banner to look for. You're welcome to bring your... friend along. Supti would like to meet him, I'm sure."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon laughed, a light and musical sound Oscar quite liked. “I think it’s because I hadn’t grown in such a long time. It’s usually only millimeters of difference. You’ll be surprised when our first child shoots up a foot after a heavy shed.” he chuckled. Oscar raised an eyebrow. For a dragon to mention children so casually...it must be serious. The dragon flipped his hair over one shoulder, lifting his chin proudly. His damaged skin wasn’t gone, but the worst of it was faded. On the shed skin, there were deep gashes and pitting from Oor’s abuse, which were lightened on his living skin. He felt better than he had in decades. His hair shone with health, his eyes were a bright blue-violet, even the ruined nailbeds on his hands were smoothing a bit.

Chaceledon looked at his robes. He did need to wash them. Oscar cleared his throat. “As luck would have it, we never did throw out that affair you wore to the House of Coins.” He mentioned. He tapped the table, and the tray of sandwiches and coffee vanished. It flipped over to reveal a robe of deep red, with gold embroidery and tiny amethysts to reflect his eyes. It was simple, the sort of casual wear he’d put on if he didn’t want to bring too much attention to himself, but it was the first thing he hadn’t made himself in so many years. He picked it up and slid on the butter yellow under robe, then the red top layer.

Chaceledon sighed and hugged himself in the silk. “Hargreaves and Monet...” he moaned as though he had his legs wrapped around the two mentioned.

“Fine silk makers from the faelands.” Oscar told Seteta with a wink, and packed up his breakfast things. All except for his turquoise coffee cup, which he seemed intent on finishing. “Shall we?”

Chaceledon smiled to Seteta. He would see her afterward. Right now he had to look for a banner of a gecko scuttling up a sand dune. He nodded to Oscar, feeling more civilized than he had in several hundred years, and searched for the banner with him. Oscar unfurled a loud purple parasol, meant to coordinate with the sundown of Chaceledon’s, and followed along gaily. The dragon found Supti’s tent, and ducked inside.

“You wanted to speak with me? I have a gift for you as well.” Chaceledon lifted the shed skin.

“Ah what my master would give for such a thing. Fireproof, strong as steel. Cover your boots in it and you will be warm in the coldest corners of Arethil.” Oscar told Supti.

Seteta
 
Seteta couldn't help the relief she felt when Chaceledon assured her he wouldn't grow that much each time, but laughed softly when he mentioned their future children and their growth. "Mammals have growth spurts too," she chuckled. "Adolescents can grow several inches in a span of days."

She watched, rolling her eyes mildly, as Oscar made a gaudy robe appear from thin air. Anai and Kahi were giggling in her ears again, and shortly tugged away to the baths.

"He's as cute in dragon form as he is in human form," Anai giggled. "And we brought clean clothing for you to change into after the bath."

Seteta blushed. "I've barely seen him in dragon form," she said. "We've been back in the desert for less than a week, and before that his captor kept him away and too cold to shift. You remember my story, surely. It's only been two nights since then."

"You always were... adventurous," Kahi said with a smirk.

Seteta glanced back over her shoulder, checking to see if they were still within earshot of Chaceledon, but she smirked herself as she saw that he and Oscar were already heading deeper into the caravan to visit with Supti.

"I've had one other lover since I left the tribe," she whispered, eyes sparkling, "before I met Chaceledon. He was a shapeshifter too, but rather than scales, he had fur..."


Supti looked up from where he sat conferring with his chief foreman as Chaceledon and Oscar entered the tent. He quietly dismissed the foreman--they'd been practically finished anyway--and gestured for the two men to take a seat on the cushions across from him.

Chaceledon said:
“You wanted to speak with me? I have a gift for you as well.” Chaceledon lifted the shed skin.

“Ah what my master would give for such a thing. Fireproof, strong as steel. Cover your boots in it and you will be warm in the coldest corners of Arethil.” Oscar told Supti.
Click to expand...

"I just wanted to be sure that you were settling in all right," Supti said as he offered both visitors a cup of tea. "We won't break camp until nightfall. It'll be easier on the camels to travel through the night, and we won't have to stop in the afternoon. We'll make better time."

He turned to Oscar then, sizing up the man, though there were things about him that both were unreadable and disconcerting. "It is customary for the caravan guides to greet all those who travel with them," Supti said after a few silent moments. "I am Supti. Though you have not formally joined our group, please be welcome among the safety of our numbers."

Chaceledon
 
Oscar laughed. “Safety? Ah, a treat you are. A soft wind in the desert blowing along little beetles to their burrows.” He smiled, and finished his coffee. He whisked the cup away and took a sip of Supti’s. A grimace wandered across his features. “Heaven’s sake...” he muttered, pulling out a jar of sugar and dumping a frightening amount into the cup.

“Seteta is feeling better, and so am I.” Chaceledon reassured Supti, setting the skin down next to the Abtati. He settled down and picked up his cup of tea, watching as Oscar ferreted around in his robe for a plate of biscotti. Good gods, did the undead man ever stop eating? “Oscar is dead. He doesn’t need much protecting. Everything else is covered by his lord.”

“Oscar Flahertie Fildemayne Caltha Viotto, if you please.” Oscar chuckled. “And he’s quite right. I’ll be along as soon as my little sparrows prepare for their flight from your train.”

“He means he’s convinced some of your younger men and women to leave with him.” Chaceledon translated with a sigh. “He’s harmless. After a cheap lay and feeding your caravaners until they burst.”

“I resemble that remark.” Oscar offered Supti a cookie. “Biscotti?”

Seteta
 
Supti's welcoming gaze darkened as Chaceledon's acquaintance laughed at his greeting. Hospitality was not something to be mocked among the Abtati, and if one was offered the protection of a caravan or tribe, the proper response was to either gracefully decline it or accept it. Not to laugh.

No, Supti thought, I do not much care for this friend of Chaceledon's.

Chaceledon said:
“Seteta is feeling better, and so am I.” Chaceledon reassured Supti, setting the skin down next to the Abtati.
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"I'm glad to hear it," Supti answered, then gestured to the dragonskin with a mischievous look. "Are you sure this isn't something you'd rather hang onto, for when you meet Seteta's parents?"

He honestly wasn't sure what he'd do with something that could make boots that would keep you warm in the coldest places. Fireproof capabilities would be handy, but it wasn't urgent. And something like this seemed too personal just to simply sell.

Chaceledon said:
“Oscar is dead. He doesn’t need much protecting. Everything else is covered by his lord.”

“Oscar Flahertie Fildemayne Caltha Viotto, if you please.” Oscar chuckled. “And he’s quite right. I’ll be along as soon as my little sparrows prepare for their flight from your train.”
Click to expand...

Dead, hm? Supti eyed Oscar warily as he finally introduced himself. The Inizae had avoided dealings with the fae after their encounters with Persian, and this reeked of fae magic. He wondered if Seteta was aware of how deeply she was entrenching herself with the fae by getting involved with Chaceledon.

She probably was, he realized. She'd been taken captive by the wraith and come face to face with Persian, after all.

When Chaceledon spoke again, though, Supti's brow raised, concern etching across his features.

Chaceledon said:
“He means he’s convinced some of your younger men and women to leave with him.” Chaceledon translated with a sigh. “He’s harmless. After a cheap lay and feeding your caravaners until they burst.”

“I resemble that remark.” Oscar offered Supti a cookie. “Biscotti?”
Click to expand...

"No thank you," he told Oscar, not certain what a biscotti was, and not terribly hungry at the moment anyway. "And as for these young men and women you've... seduced, I suppose would be the right term in this case, they need to see me before they leave so that our roster is correct. As long as they have reached adulthood, according to their tribes or parents, they are free to leave as they please."

Chaceledon
 
Oscar shrugged and bit into the cookie. Chaceledon nodded at the skin. “It’s something I wouldn’t mind presenting to her parents, but I feel obligated to thank you in some way. You’ve put yourself in harms way for us. If you have any metal that is fatigued and needs repair, I’d be happy to help.” he mentioned.

Oscar ignored the glaring he got from Supti. “My dear, children are as unpredictable and flighty as the wind, and listen about as well. Free spirits who have found a kindred master shouldn’t be caged to lists and rosters. When angels banish the blinding sun with their kisses who am I to deny them?”

Chaceledon sighed. “Please do as he asks.” he said quietly. “The House of Coins doesn’t need any more desert enemies.”

“Cheeky of you to assume.” Oscar nodded to Supti. “Very well, I shall mark them down for you.”

Chaceledon was a bit relieved. Oscar was known for this. Beggars, prostitutes, those down on their luck, rich men, poor women, and anything in between. Oscar had a soft heart, and a firm belief that anyone who hadn’t had an adventure should receive one immediately. It greatly amused Rosebury to fund such adventures, so that Oscar could entertain him. The House of Coins was a fae house built on entertainment, wild stories, and spying. Largely bloodless, except for the unfortunate who weren’t ready for such things. Oscar tended to conveniently leave those out of his tales, though Chaceledon had no doubt he remembered every one.

Oscar stood, and bowed a bit to Supti. “Enjoy your desert adventures, my friend. I must tend to the flock.” He swept out of the tent, and patted the banner. A tiny bead of gold appeared at the end of the gecko’s tail.

Chaceledon heard the zombie heading down to the water to play, his hearty laugh echoing across the sand. He shook his head slightly. “Fae don’t like rules, as a general rule. Oscar less so than most.”

Oscar happily planted his purple parasol in the sands next to the water and settled down on a fluffy towel, watching the Abtati with an amused look. He settled a pair of smoked lenses on his nose, and seemed content to watch and make mental notes. He waved at Seteta, and talked to a few of the young women he’d planned to take with him. A few of them playfully tugged him toward the water, but the zombie waved them off with a laugh and a smile. He couldn’t bathe. He was happy to conjure up sweets for children and a book for himself, which he scribbled in lazily.

Seteta
 
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