Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Seteta sighed, pressing her knuckles to the spot between her eyebrows. "They may have been raised to be controlled," she said at last, "but just because I choose not to control their every breath does not mean there will be a lack of rules and structure. Some of it, though, all of you will have to come to agreement on yourselves. You are family."

All of the things he said--so many things that just rang wrong to her--swirled in her tired mind, faster than she could grasp onto them, but one thing did stick out.

"To assume the mother has no part in the formation of a soul is a gross oversight, I think," she countered. "But if that's the assumption you are going to make, then it's obvious what the mother gives: blood. Bone. Flesh. She is the one who carries and protects the soul while the body forms around it, giving it the shelter of her own body... with nothing in exchange. She pays the cost of her child's freedom through her pain and agony birthing it into the world. I don't know if that helps in the slightest."

She rubbed her neck and bit back a yawn, listening as Nestor explained how communication worked, but her eyes flashed again when he mentioned punishment and pain. "Rheinhard will have to learn how to make his own decisions about right and wrong, and accept consequences in society accordingly," she snapped. "I will not be enforcing punishments or pain on him or any of you for my own pleasure or because you disagree with me."

She wanted, desperately, to say that she never would, for any reason. But she suspected that would mean little to some of the Volkers, especially Klaus.

Her face softened, though, when Nestor rested his hand on her shoulder and expressed his gratitude. When he called her asayi, a blush spread across her cheeks, and she reached up to gently squeeze his hand.

"Thank you," she mumbled, and then headed back toward the office, making sure Rheinhard's book was still open and propped up where Nestor could see it.

"If you're able... will you let me know if he starts to show any signs of infection?" she called across the threshold. "If not, I'll check back as soon as I wake, if Rheinhard isn't awake himself."

She barely waited to hear a reply before her rapidly-diminishing hold on the Well faded away, and she found herself back in the desert, nestled between Chaceledon's palms.

With a deep, exhausted sigh, she peered out at the sky. Thankfully, it seemed there were still a few hours till dawn. She just hoped she would be able to rest. She couldn't sleep, not deeply, if she wanted to keep the dome of sand up over them. And she wasn't sure how deeply she'd be able to sleep anyway... not with this strange new magic inside of her.

Chaceledon
 
“Of course.” Nestor returned to his place by the door, but he had a strange look on his face. What she’d said about mothers was clearly sticking with him. He made a noise under his breath, flipping back through the pages of notes in his book. Clearly, he was on to something.

Morning came quickly. Persian was already up and rubbing his face, grumbling about coffee. Chaceledon wagered he hadn’t been on the road without a decent hotel and a servant for quite a while. Volker was already awake, slowly making his way down to the water. He drank greedily, then wandered into the deeper areas and bathed himself. He was moving slow, and stumbled a few times in the water. Chaceledon yawned, and spat bits of dead gum tissue. The burns still hurt, but soaking them in water and Persian’s poultice had helped.

They were all hungry…Chaceledon’s stomach was rumbling mightily. “I would sacrifice my mother for a bowl of noodles.” Persian sighed and plunked himself down on the sand. “Think you’ll be ready to fly?”

Chaceledon slowly rose to his feet. Rheinhard? he called. The other didn’t look at him. He just finished his bath and came back to shore to dry off. Well, that settled it. There were men to feed and he was the most able. I’ll be back soon. I love you both. He took to the sky, still a bit shaky, and began looking for prey.

Persian watched him go, and fiddled around in his pockets for one of the puzzles. He laid back in the sand, toying with it idly. “Does he even know how to hunt..?”

“No.” Rheinhard said raggedly, going to sit next to Seteta.
Seteta
 
As soon as the first rays of dawn were peeking over the horizon, Seteta let the sand dome fall away. She'd had every intention of rising before the men, and Chaceledon, and hunting some chuma and having breakfast ready, but she'd underestimated her exhaustion. Instead, she'd simply rolled back over, tucking her face against Chaceledon's paw to block the growing daylight, and fell asleep.

She doubted she slept more than an hour or two before Chaceledon stirred, and she groaned, flopping back against the sand in the warm hollow he'd left behind. Hearing the soft crunch of sand underfoot, she cracked her eyes open, giving Rheinhard a tired smile, and snorting as Chaceledon's lack of hunting skill was confirmed.

Seteta sighed and closed her eyes, burying her hand in the sand and sending her senses out again.

"There's a herd of gazelle on the far side of the oasis," she murmured. "I've disturbed it. He should be able to snatch one if he's quick enough."

If he came back empty-handed, she would flush out some chuma instead. There was plenty of them around here as well, or sand grouse.

"How are you feeling?" she asked Rheinhard. "Have you... been back into the Well yet?"

Chaceledon
 
“It’s an oasis. Animals have to come here and drink eventually.” Persian theorized with a shrug. “I don’t have as good of a throwing arm as Rheinhard but if he’s feeling so inclined-“

“No one…touches these but me.” Rheinhard growled, rubbing his face. He winced, probing his cracked tooth with his tongue. He’d been frightened, and fighting on the last shreds of his energy. He didn’t just feel rough physically. He’d nearly been pinned down and raped. Without Seteta and Chaceledon showing up when they did…he looked down at the sand. He didn’t like being naked in front of anyone, let alone touched. He needed time to smooth out his feelings. There was a disquiet along their bond…how afraid he’d been.

He touched his chest. “I haven’t. But everything is so still and quiet. I can think for the first time in decades.” Rheinhard said softly. No arguments, constant badgering, or strange games in the Arena. “They’re asleep…except for Nestor. I think. Feels like him.” He looked over at Seteta. “I need food and real sleep before I go back in. Why?”

Seteta
 
Seteta sat up and threw an annoyed look at Persian, reached into the sand with her magic again, and tossed a handful off it into the fae's face. It was childish, she knew, but the last real encounter they'd had, she'd had no idea what part he'd played in her tribe's history, and now he kept aggravating Rheinhard and she could feel it.

She'd rather bury him in sand and leave him for the buzzards, but they needed his help right now. So she would settle for petty pranks and annoyances.

At the distress she felt through the bond, Seteta turned her full attention to Rheinhard. Even now, she doubted he would let her even take his hand, so she did her best to send it across the bond.

Not words, just emotion.

Acceptance. It's all right if you were afraid. If you still are.

Grief. I'm sorry that I had to force this on you, in the midst of that. I'm sorry you had to go through it at all.

Comfort. Affection. You're not alone.

Seteta wasn't sure she could say that she loved Rheinhard yet, and certainly not in a way a mother would, or a sister... but at the least, she considered him a friend.

Chaceledon said:
He touched his chest. “I haven’t. But everything is so still and quiet. I can think for the first time in decades.” Rheinhard said softly. No arguments, constant badgering, or strange games in the Arena. “They’re asleep…except for Nestor. I think. Feels like him.” He looked over at Seteta. “I need food and real sleep before I go back in. Why?”
Click to expand...

She nodded. "Everyone's asleep except Nestor. I woke him up because I had no idea what to do. He's keeping an eye on your health right now, but if you're awake, and if you'd like things to be quieter, I can go in and put him back with the others."

When he asked why, she shrugged. "I was just curious. Apparently... the Well's appearance is dictated by the steward's personality. So it's... quite a bit different now."

Then she paused and sighed, trying to figure out how to say all the things she wanted to say.

"I hope it's obvious that I will be... quite different from Oor," she spoke at last. "I won't command you, though at times I might communicate through the bond. I won't punish you, ever. But you'll be responsible for anything you do, if it causes any issues.

"And I won't invade your privacy. Your memories are yours, unless there is anything specific that you want me to see."

Chaceledon
 
“Ack!” Persian got up and stumbled toward the water, spitting sand and blinking furiously. He washed his face; ye gods she’d gotten it up his nose! Women! He splashed water on his face again and gave her a look. “Was that really necessary…?”

The emotions coming through the bond were difficult to untangle. Rheinhard shifted away from her a bit. He was grateful that she felt that way, but even he didn’t know how to feel about it. Oor had never turned on them like that. Manipulated, yes, and punished. But not come out and said he would destroy everything and burn them all to the ground. The last shreds of emotion he’d felt from Oor were a predatory hatred he could still feel staining the inside of his skull.

He shook his head when she offered to silence Nestor. “At least one must be awake. It was his way of keeping an eye on us. If you don’t select one, the spell chooses for you.” He muttered. The Well was different? Different how? He was curious and afraid all at once. The Well had never had another steward. At her last words he felt compelled to speak.

“No. I want you to look. I’m used to my life being open. The others would want you to know as well. The more you look, the more you learn.” Rheinhard took a deep breath and winced, touching his ribs. “Where are we..?”

“An oasis, a few days from Pedeo.” Persian volunteered. “I suppose Chaceledon will want to go to the Lion House and recuperate. And it’s bloody Auction, so if half the city isn’t on fire I’ll die of shock. I’m bleeding gold the more we sit here.”

“Auction.” Rheinhard snorted.

“Don't sneer, half your grandmothers came from Auction.” Persian snapped. “I’ve got half a thousand things to do and none of them involve babysitting the broken slave of a wraith and a spoiled lizard.”

Chaceledon landed behind Persian, and glared at him. He held out a gazelle to Seteta, and tilted his chin up proudly. Now how do we make this into food?

Rheinhard sighed and tugged the gazelle over to him.
Seteta
 
Seteta just smiled as Persian sulked.

She sighed when Rheinhard told her to look at all his memories. At all of the Volker's memories. "To be honest," she laughed weakly, "I'm not sure if I can bear it. But we will see... how much I can do, in whatever time I steward the Well."

When Persian started to grumble about all of his things to do in Pedeo, though, Seteta shot him a glare again. Tossed another drift of sand in his face.

"It was your choice to come with us," she reminded him. "And at least you have gold to bleed."

Chaceledon said:
Chaceledon landed behind Persian, and glared at him. He held out a gazelle to Seteta, and tilted his chin up proudly. Now how do we make this into food?

Rheinhard sighed and tugged the gazelle over to him.
Click to expand...

"Good dragon!" she cooed, standing up to press a kiss to Chaceledon's muzzle after he set the dead gazelle down. "I was hoping you'd see them."

Turning back to Rheinhard for a moment, Seteta said, "I'll be right back." then went to wash her face again. When she returned, Rheinhard had the gazelle nearly gutted. "How can I help?" she asked, then warily eyed Persian. "You don't happen to have a knife, do you?" she asked the fae reluctantly.

Chaceledon
 
Persian just managed to bring up an arm when sand was flung at his face. "Stop it!" he barked. "I'll have you know I risked my skin hitting a wraith like that to save your mate.” He brushed sand off of his clothing. “And you have gold to bleed too, if I may add.” He stood up. “The Lion House estate has significant bank holdings, that I’m going to transfer to Chaceledon. The two of you are divorced, and from what I witnessed in Annuakat I want no further dealings with Oor. He’ll be black listed. So,” he placed one foot behind the other, extended his arms out, and gave a courtiers bow. “…you’re welcome.”

With that, Persian went to the oasis to shake the sand out and wash his face. Chaceledon gave her a look. His immediate response was to be angry being praised like a dog, but coming from Seteta it pleased him. He shifted, and settled on the sand. He laid back, enjoying the warmth on his nude body. He looked so much better after shedding…gods, perhaps in a few thousand years the shadows of Oor’s abuse wouldn’t be visible at all!

Rheinhard flipped one of the blades in his hand and offered it to her. It was decently long, six or seven inches, with the handle a human humerus bone. It was worn from decades of use, but still as razor sharp as ever. If she took it, she would feel it sing in her blood when she touched the bone. The maternal connection. The male Volkers gave their knowledge, their memories, their undying guidance. The mothers granted protection, weaponry, reliance through death. Volker could feel but a shadow of it. To Seteta, it would be as though the poor woman who had borne Rheinhard and hung herself so long ago was touching her shoulder.

Rheinhard skinned the animal carefully, and put the skin fur side down on the sand. He piled the organs on it, and nodded to them. “The intestines we cannot use, not here. But the heart, lungs and liver we can.” He told Seteta. Chaceledon scooted away from the blood staining the sands. He still didn’t like the whole…gory business.

“Are you really granting us the Lion House?” he asked. “You’ve known what Oor was doing for years…why now?”

“Because until now we’ve had an understanding. My girls stay with me, he takes the child, and we butcher when we both agree. Last night was rape for rape’s sake, and he didn’t seem to give one whit for the girls who died. I came to a bit of a realization that a man who’s gone that mad is beyond redemption.”

Chaceledon chewed his lip, and got up to start scrounging for firewood. As daintily as draconically possible; lifting up bits of wood with thumb and forefinger and carrying them back. He squealed in terror when one of the wood pieces had a scorpion on it, fleeing across the sand with one hand on his chest. Persian couldn’t help but compare it to a gentlewoman who’d just found a mouse in the pantry.

“What on earth attracts a woman to that?” He chuckled, arranging the wood the dragon had brought back into a fire pit.

Seteta
 
Seteta sniffed and stuck her nose up in the air, rather like Chaceledon did at times though she wouldn't admit it to herself, as Persian fussed about the sand tossing. "I have my own grievances," she muttered. "Though I do appreciate your intervention."

She was still waiting to see if Persian had put it together about which tribe she was from. She wasn't worried anymore about him getting a pet collar on her. Chaceledon was at her side, and he'd prevent it at all costs. But a change of heart about one thing now was not enough to atone for what he'd done to her people.

Her thoughts were quickly diverted, though, when Chaceledon shifted back to his human form and lounged naked against the sand. She bit her lip, warmth curling through her belly again. For a moment, she thought of ignoring the other two men and stripping off her clothes and climbing onto her lover. Her body still ached, but the ache was softening back into want.

Then Rheinhard was offering her a knife, and she blushed as she turned her attention aside. Then her brow raised with surprise to see it was one of the bone-handled ones. Chaceledon had told her the significance of the bones, when he first brought up the subject of her taking the Well. She knew that Rheinhard guarded them zealously, and she glanced at his face before she grasped the hilt, making certain that he wanted her to take it. Then she nodded, and wrapped her fingers around it.

And almost dropped it. She shuddered, tears springing to her eyes, and she ducked her head to hide them. It seems, she thought as she began to carve the gazelle down into pieces, that the Volker men are not the only ones who have been bound to a restless death.

She vaguely heard Rheinhard's instructions for the offal and nodded, not even bothering to point out that they were in the desert now. She'd learned to butcher a gazelle more than three decades before.

Seteta listened quietly to Persian and Chaceledon speaking as she and Rheinhard finished butchering the gazelle.

Chaceledon said:
“What on earth attracts a woman to that?” He chuckled, arranging the wood the dragon had brought back into a fire pit.
Click to expand...

She snorted and dug her toes into the sand, not even looking over at Persian as she tossed sand on him again. "I happen to know you've slept with that too," she retorted. "So I'd think you'd at least know some of what makes him attractive."

Seteta handed the knife back to Rheinhard then, and went back to the oasis to wash her hands. When she returned, she settled next to Chaceledon.

"Do whatever you like with Oor's... monetary assets, and the house," she murmured. "I want no part of it. But by rights, it belongs to you, since he called you husband rather than slave."

Chaceledon
 
Persian laughed. “He told you about that eh?” He grinned at Seteta.

Rheinhard watched her as she took the knife. Oor pathologically refused to touch his weapons. Any of their weapons. He would take them, reluctantly, but he would avoid it. Volker had always brushed it off; Oor encouraged strong bonding between each of the Volkers and their weapons. He watched her carefully as they cut up the gazelle.

Chaceledon lit them a fire, and gathered coconuts from some of the nearby palms. Volker grabbed a flat rock and scrubbed it in the shallows for a makeshift pan, offering it to the dragon. Chaceledon was able to soften the rock so they didn’t lose any grease from the antelope, and they set their meal to cooking.

The dragon put an arm around Seteta and kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to have any part of it. I’ll sell the Lion House, or move in to something smaller. We don’t need a house in Pedeo. I just need you.” he told her gently. He smiled, and cradled her to his side. He watched the fire, knitting his fingers into hers. Rheinhard sat quietly in the sand, knees close to his chest, chin on his knees.

Seteta
 
Persian grinned, and Seteta smirked and threw another wave sand straight at his mouth.

"Pedeo would be very far from my family, anyway," she murmured as Chaceledon tucked her into his side while the meat roasted on the fire. "They may be nomads, but there are certain places that they do not wander, unless they have need."

Seteta had never understood why they stayed away from the southern portions of Amol-Kalit as much as they did. But now she knew, and she was sitting right across the fire from him.

She'd almost bargained with him, and the thought made her ill. Then she sighed, and forced her thoughts elsewhere.

She watched Rheinhard where he sat. He was usually quiet, but that made it harder to tell if he was feeling all right. It was tempting to use the bond, to monitor more than just his physical wellbeing, but she fought against the urge. She had meant it, when she said she would respect his privacy. Even if he'd given her permission to look into his memories, she wanted Rheinhard to have a taste of what it meant to be a normal human.


Travel to Pedeo was exhausting. Between acclimating to the Well, keeping an eye on Rheinhard's health, holding back her ire at Persian to a reasonable level, and hours and hours of flying on Chaceledon's back, Seteta barely slept.

When Pedeo came in sight on the horizon, Seteta nearly wept with relief, despite the significance of the city to her tribe. She wasn't actually sure she could stomach setting foot in the place, but at least it meant no more flying for a while.

Chaceledon
 
They were all exhausted. They needed a good meal, a doctor, and about three days of rest apiece. When Chaceledon finally saw the city, he sighed in joy.

It really didn’t look like much from the outside.

It was a gigantic cylinder set into the ground, squat and rounded like a tin of meat. It was mostly featureless, sun scorched, except for ventilation grates in its sides and large panes of glass above. From above the way it rotated could be seen; two nested rings around a central disc. The Outer Wheel, Inner Wheel, and Centre Wheel respectively. One could catch glimpses of the city from the Inner Wheel’s skylights, but it was entirely enclosed. A fortress one could not climb the walls of nor burrow beneath, fed by magic and the blood of the slaves within it.

“Isnt she beautiful…” Persian sighed with a smile as they landed. Chaceledon patiently waited for a spot to land in front of the main gates, which were shockingly populated. Long lines of caravans waiting to get in as far as the eye could see, with an aisle between them just long enough for Chaceledon to land. They were selling everything from slaves to minerals, fresh fruit, livestock, spices and textiles. There was loud complaining about the size of the dragon landing in their spots…until Persian stepped out in front.

“I understand you’ve all waited patiently!” Persian called to them. “I’ll have you in before the day’s out!” That, as was said, was that. There were called questions and complaining that neither Persian nor Chaceledon paid attention to. Chaceledon was more worried about Rheinhard and Seteta, neither of whom had gotten solid rest. Persian looked exhausted himself.

The main doors to the city were smooth, featureless iron. They were as thick as brick walls, nearly two feet, and as they swung open one figure struggled to sneak through. Kennedi rushed to Persian and flung his arms around him. “Dear gods man you’re liable to put me in an early grave!” Kennedi exclaimed, touching his master’s cheek. Persian chuckled and patted him.

“We all need rest. I’ll let you in on the details soon.” The slaver told him. “How is everyone?” He needn’t have asked. A small cloud of women, girls, boys, and men rushed out to embrace Persian and carry him to the ground. Kennedi stepped aside and regarded the dragon.

“You three made it.” He said with a knowing smile at Seteta. “The Lion House isnt exactly ready; it’s staffless.”

That’s fine, we all need rest. Send a doctor to the Lion House; I don’t want Rheinhard in a Pedeon hospital. Chaceledon said wearily. He stepped around Persian and into dimly lit chaos.

Pedeo was massive. Inside, the buildings were stationary and adhered to the walls and a wide ring of the floor. The floor, however, rotated counter clockwise. Thousands of people crowded into the Outer Wheel; every race and creed shouting, selling, pushing, and negotiating. The smell of grease and grilled meat filled the air alongside perfume, stone, milled timber, and iron. This was the Industrial Quarter, where everything was sold and imported, and it was barely contained chaos. Chaceledon used his size to wearily plod through the streets, tail held high to keep it from being wheeled over by wagons, carts, and tuktuks pulled by slaves.

Rheinhard sneezed and rubbed some of the oily smoke out of his eyes. Meat, perfume, wood, textiles freshly dyed, the smell of urine, fear and dying animals. The scents were choking!

Persian popped up from out of nowhere, patting Chaceledon’s shoulder and leading him through the mess.

Seteta
 
Persian and Chaceledon's joyful relief was nearly palpable, and while Seteta was relieved to be on the ground and not clinging desperately in midair to the dragon's back in exhaustion, she shared none of the obvious mirth.

She stayed on Chaceledon's back, worried that if she were to try and climb down she would crumple into a heap on the sand. Kennedi was the first out of the city gates, followed quickly by what she could only describe as a crowd of fawning admirers, and she turned her face away with a weary sigh.

When Kennedi stepped into her line of sight again, she gave him an acknowledging nod, but didn't return his smile. Then Chaceledon was asking for a doctor to be sent to the house, and they were stepping within the cloying depths of Pedeo.

The air was musty and clogged with scents, and the iron simultaneously cut her off from the sand and its magic, and she couldn't help but shudder. The sound of the market, the merchants desperately plying their wares and bleating and baying animals, was overwhelming. Rheinhard sneezed, and then Persian was suddenly there, and Seteta was relieved that the crowd began to part before them more swiftly.

It took every ounce of her strength not to curl over Chaceledon's back and hide her face in his mane. She'd done her best to keep the gashes on her face clean, but by the time they left the first oasis, they'd begun to feel hot and inflamed, and right now she just wanted a bed and some ointment.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon was grateful Persian was there clearing the way for them. The rotating floor would carry them forward regardless, but it was difficult to move any faster than the slow grinding pace without help. He stumbled along after Persian, trying not to vomit at the smells. Unfortunately Rheinhard did vomit. Persian ignored it, and Chaceledon quietly picked up his son and settled him on his back.

Persian stood toward the inner wall, and waited near the curb. Soon, a large doorway rotated around toward them. It could easily fit the dragon, was guarded by two men, and…they stepped into quiet.

It was night and day.

The Inner Wheel was quiet, and wide. Less buildings, manicured streets, and wide lawns with fruit and flower trees lining the street. It was paved with white stone, and the grass and trees fed with sun filtering down from the huge glass skylights. Pets walked the streets arm and arm with each other, holding parasols to protect their skin from the sun. Masters and slaves walked together. More servants watered the lawns and trees, and swept the lane ways. Mansions were the only buildings of any size; there were small boutiques. Grocers, pleasure shops, wineries, open air restaurants that wafted delicious smells into the streets. There were parks, where people were playing some sort of game involving rounded balls of stone.

Persian straightened his coat and walked in front of them. “There. A bit quieter. I’m having my servants air out the Lion House. I’ll have groceries dropped by this afternoon; any special requests?” His gaze wandered between Seteta, Chaceledon and Rheinhard.

“I would…kill someone…for oranges.” Rheinhard coughed.

Persian nodded, and led them across a freshly manicured lawn, down a small walkway, and up to the doors of a huge mansion. It was carved of white marble, with a pair of impressive lions guarding the door. They stood in front of it, with their forearms crossed in front of the threshold. When Chaceledon approached, they sat up and looked forward again. The dragon shifted, naked on the doorstep, and tiredly pushed the door open. Rheinhard struggled to adjust and Chaceledon had to grab him to keep him from falling.

The foyer was huge; a building in its own right roofed entirely in glass that filtered light down into the complex stone floor. The decor was light and airy, most of it gathered from Ragash and Annuakat, and Chaceledon noticed vases with fresh flowers. He looked at Seteta. “Koiros I need to get him into bed. I’ll be back, and I’ll run you a bath. We need to look at those marks on your beautiful cheeks.” Chaceledon shifted Rheinhard, and slowly helped him up a sweeping set of marble stairs.

Seteta
 
Seteta's stomach twisted, feeling the briefest echoes of Rheinhard's nausea through the Well's bond, but she managed to not vomit herself, at least. When Chaceledon picked Rheinhard up, she twisted to help the man settle behind her on the dragon's back.

She was half in an exhausted stupor as they made their way to the Inner Wheel, but the deep breath of clear air she took when they passed through the gates was involuntary. And here... here there was stone and earth, and and the cloying suffocation she'd felt in the Outer Wheel--both in the air, and with her magic--began to fade away.

When Persian asked about groceries, Seteta almost shook her head, but then Rheinhard mentioned oranges, and her mouth watered. "Yes, fresh fruit," she agreed, and then she prattled off a sizable list of the foods she and the healer and discussed in Maraan when Chaceledon had passed out. He was doing far better about eating, but they still had quite a ways to go. It was all food that would be good for Rheinhard while he healed, as well.

Seteta started when the stone lions moved in front of the house, but her flinch and brief intake of air would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn't actively watching her. She slid off Chaceledon's back, and he shifted a moment later, and then they were all stepping into the house.

She just nodded when Chaceledon said he needed to get Rheinhard to bed, and then gnawed at her lip as she gawked at the home, and awkward silence falling around her.

"It's very like Witherhold," she muttered quietly with a shudder. "Just light instead of dark."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon got Rheinhard up the stairs and into a spare bedroom. Spare room was hardly the appropriate term, however. The room had its own fireplace, private bath, and Persian’s crew had already turned down the bed and fluffed the pillows. Chaceledon sat him down on the bed and helped him undress, then into the bath. The dragon came downstairs with Rheinhard bathed and sleeping.

He wiped his forehead and took Seteta’s hands in his, kissing her fingers. “He’s sleeping. Let’s get something to eat before the doctor arrives.” Chaceledon sounded relieved. He led her across the foyer, down a hallway to the kitchen. The pets had left them a plate of fruit, cured meats and cheese. “Look,” Chaceledon went to a large, rectangular cupboard and opened it. Cool air poured out of it, and he withdrew a pitcher of water. It was cold enough that the glass was fogged! “The spell on the cold box must have been renewed…I’ll have to thank him for that.”

Chaceledon poured them each a glass of water and perched on the countertop, popping a grape into his mouth. “Let me see your cuts…theyre going to fester even worse if we don’t tend to them.” he tutted, his fingers touching her cheek. “…How is….holding the Well?”

Seteta
 
Seteta nodded quietly as Chaceledon kissed her fingers, relieved to hear that Rheinhard was resting. She let him lead her into the kitchen, and started picking at the plate of food while he poured glasses of water for them, letting her eyes follow him as she smiled.

When he hopped up on the counter, she nudged herself between his knees, tilting her face up for him to look at the cuts. Seteta flinched a little when he touched her face. The spots were becoming tender, and the last time she'd cleaned them as best she could, they'd felt a little swollen.

"Well, that's one of the reasons the doctor is coming," she murmured, then stole a couple of Chaceledon's grapes and popped them in her mouth.

"The Well is..." she paused to figure out how to describe it. "It's... different than anything I've experience before. With my earth magic and my illusion magic, it's more like I'm... a conduit, for magic that exists on its own, outside of me. The Well is a thing of magic that is constantly present within me. It's... impossible to ignore."

She sighed then, and leaned forward to rest her head against him, draping her arms over his hips and soaking up his warmth.

"Sehejib?" she murmured quietly a minute later. "Not that I mind, but are you planning to still be wandering around naked when the doctor gets here?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon held her, frowning at the bites on her cheek. Poor thing. Rheinhard must have truly been terrified to grab her like that. He listened to her description of the Well, and it sounded much like what Oor had described. A massive pool of memory magic with human souls caught in it generated a frightening amount of energy. Chaceledon likened it to one of Jess’ fire seeds; an innocuous thing that could become an inferno at the slightest problem.

“I forget about clothing when I’m warm enough.” Chaceledon said sheepishly, running his fingers through her hair. “I really ought to see if Persian left us anything decent…there’s a master bedroom upstairs. We can get some rest after the doctor comes.” He kissed her nose. “Won’t be a minute. Eat, please, I know that antelope was a drop in the bucket for all of us.”

As it turned out, a ‘minute’ was closer to an hour. Persian had stocked the closet well, and Chaceledon picked out a fine silk shirt, long pants, a wide orange sash that went about his trim waist and complimented his hair…and makeup. All of his makeup was there. Chaceledon spent the better part of an hour lining his eyelids, shading, and painting them with an array of powders. A little tint on his lips, some setting powder, and he looked normal again. He changed out his nails for a soft sunset palette he’d made years ago, decorated in citrine. He added a few brass bangles to his wrists, and braided his hair through with citrine beads.

Chaceledon came downstairs just as the doctor was arriving. Thank the gods for timing. He showed the man in an iron collar to Rheinhard’s room, and kept his son still while he was prodded at. The doctor seemed hesitant about poking around Rheinhard’s broken tooth until Chaceledon propped open the man’s mouth for him. Chaceledon was able to help melt gold into mercury for the amalgam, and patch the tooth. Rheinhard’s ribs were properly bound, and his cuts given antiseptic.

Then it was Seteta’s turn. Chaceledon brought the doctor to the kitchens; the doctor was a middle aged man, probably closer to Rheinhard’s age, with tired brown eyes. He poked around Seteta’s cuts, tutting. “I’m guessing this is where he bit you.” The doctor clicked his tongue and fiddled in his bag a moment. He gently lifted a corner of one of her scabs, and pressed. Hot pus ran down her cheek. “I’ll make you a poultice. Warm compress on that, and wash your face every morning.”

Seteta
 
"Hm, I believe you promised me a bath, too," Seteta murmured as Chaceledon kissed her nose, then she moved aside to let him hop off the counter.

When he left the kitchen, Seteta fixed herself a plate and found a small table to sit at. She ate slowly, savoring the fresh fruit especially, because for all of Chaceledon's assertion that he wouldn't 'be but a minute' she knew better. The only way he wouldn't be back in less than half an hour was if there were no clothes to be found within the Lion House.

By the time she'd finished her food, and found an old tin of tea hiding in one of the cupboards and was figuring out how to heat up the water, Chaceledon returned with the doctor.

She eyed Chaceledon and his clothes and makeup with an amused smirk, then let the doctor examine her face. When he pried up one of the scabs, she hissed at the sting, then grimaced as she felt the pus run down her face.

She nodded at the doctor's instructions. It's the same as she would have done herself, if there'd been any healing plants along their way to make a poultice with.

"How many long should I do the poultice and warm compress for?" she asked.

Chaceledon
 
“A few days, but keep an eye on it. If you notice any red lines, or consistent pain, you come see me at the clinic.” The doctor pawed around in his bag, examining several palm-sized jars before he came up with one. “Troll semen, honey, and garlic. Smells to high heaven but it’s really the best thing for bites like that.”

Chaceledon made a face as the doctor wet a cloth with a water flask, and gently cleaned Seteta’s face. He dipped his fingers into the poultice, and dotted Seteta’s bite marks with coin-sized applications. Chaceledon put the back of his hand to his nose; ye gods it stank! Like someone had mixed pond scum with sugar and garlic.

“That’s enough of that, Chaceledon, it’s the best anti-infection agent I’ve got. Besides, we make it in-house.” The doctor wiped off his fingers and gave Seteta the jar. “Once a day, and wash with water that’s been boiled. Our water is from a well dredged deep under the sand; never know what’s in it.” The doctor buttoned up his bag. “Oh, and before I forget, Persian sent me over with this.”

The doctor set a small mahogany card box on the table, with an expensive rag paper envelope. “Your invitation to Auction, your VIP box, and another invitation from the Ring of Teeth for Rheinhard.”

Chaceledon’s jaw set and he pawed through the envelope, thrusting a long piece of parchment back at the man. “If the Jaws ever contacts us again, tell him I’ll boil him alive in a jar of his own urine.” Chaceledon growled. “Hardy isn’t fighting. Not now, not next week, not next year.”

“I had a feeling.” The doctor crumpled the note, and shoved it in his pocket. “You keep an eye on these two. Persian’s pulled back the staff so I’m afraid you’ll have to see to your own affairs. Kennedi should be by later.”

Chaceledon sighed. Of course. He knew the legal paperwork had to be coming at some point. He waved the doctor off, and took Seteta’s hand. “Let’s get you soaking in a tub or something that…doesn’t smell like that.”

Seteta
 
Seteta made a face of her own as the doctor mentioned troll semen but she'd already been treated with troll mucus once before, so how much worse could it be?

Then the doctor opened the jar up and she gagged. Much, much worse. But she didn't pull away as the doctor dabbed the ointment on her face, though she did reach up and delicately pinch her nose shut... as much as she could with her septum piercing, anyway.

She took the jar of ointment, and noted the doctor's instructions, especially about boiling the water, then leaned against the back of the chair as the doctor and Chaceledon exchanged a flurry of words about things that she wasn't quite sure of, other than the issue about staff for the place. The three of them wouldn't need that much, though. Surely they could manage on their own for a while.

Then the doctor was leaving and Chaceledon took her hand. At his comment about the ointment, she smirked and stood up, slipping her hand out of his and trailing her fingers suggestively over his clothed hip. "Well, you didn't ask about any other alternatives. It's not like you aren't a magical creature yourself."

Her expression, though, was likely ruined by the ointment on her face, and she giggled as she slipped past Chaceledon and back into the foyer.

"So where is this bath?" she called back over her shoulder. "And where are we sleeping?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon laughed, and waved a hand in front of his face playfully. “Dragons are used for fireproofing, love. It’s trolls that ooze healing material.” He snickered and carefully kissed her forehead…away from the poultice. He followed her, arms behind him as he watched her saunter through the foyer. She was absolutely enchanting, even exhausted from a long journey.

“Well let’s see. There’s the master bedroom upstairs, complete with a claw foot tub I just had to have.” he grinned. “Rheinhard’s in his room. Or we can sleep in one of the other four bedrooms…have a bath in any of the three bathrooms. Raid the pantry and bar…”

He put a hand on the banister, and nodded up. At the top of the stairs was a short hallway, ending in a pair of carved double doors. Chaceledon pushed them open. There was a gigantic bed that could have fit four people, a walk in closet, and a rounded bathroom with a claw foot tub. There were plenty of mirrors, likely to facilitate Oor’s magic as much as Chaceledon’s vanity, and a seating area with hundreds of small pots, compacts, tins, and jars for his makeup.

“I’m glad I can no longer feel Oor in here.” he chuckled.

Seteta
 
"How about whatever room you haven't slept with Oor in?" Seteta asked, wrinkling her nose a little as she pivoted, then smirked as she caught sight of his gaze lingering at her hips. "Although taking you on every surface of this place and erasing Oor from it all is also highly tempting."

And then she was hit with a yawn she couldn't bite back. She followed him up the curving staircase and into what was clearly the master bedroom.

"There's mirrors everywhere in the office inside the Well too," she murmured as she turned to see the whole room. "What on earth for?"

She couldn't help but grin at the sight of Chaceledon's makeup-laden vanity though. "He really must have thought he would get you back," she said with a sigh as she trailed over a finger along the edge of it. "If he kept all your makeup and didn't dispose of it."

Chaceledon
 
“Mirrors are sacred to wraiths. They represent memory. The Well, Gaal’s mindless pets…all one thing in common.” Chaceledon said in disgust, “Feel free to shatter any that offend you. This is your house too now. You’re asayi of everything I own.” He came up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder as she looked at his makeup. “As you are, as I am.” he kissed her hair and snatched up a long, fluted crystal decanter from the makeup table.

Now then, for the best bath he could make. Herbal soap from the decanter, a touch of sandalwood oil, some dried rose petals that would plump with the bathwater. He turned the water on with a little crook of his finger. “Isnt this incredible? Persian taps into an underground river. Metal water wheels bring it up here, and smaller wheels pressurize it into pipes. Therefore…” He opened the tap fully. “…running water.”

Chaceledon perched on the edge of the large porcelain tub with a smile. “It’s my favorite thing about this place. You still have to use public outhouses, but this house has one in the garden.” The dragon stood and headed back into the bedroom with a smile. “I’ll warm the sheets for you.”

Seteta
 
Seteta snorted softly at Chaceledon's statement to shatter any mirrors she desired. Maybe she would... but not right now. She smiled as he pressed a kiss to her hair, and was about to ask about the words he said but he turned away and started drawing the bath.

She followed him into the bathroom and stripped off her shoes and clothes. There was a bemused look on his face as he gushed over the running water, and as he perched on the edge of the tub for a moment, she settled a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped into it and sank into the water with a quiet sigh.

"Before you warm the sheets," Seteta called to him, "I need already-boiled water to wash my face with. Can you get that for me?"

As she waited, she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub and yawned. Maybe, when he came back with the water, she could convince him to wash her hair too...

Chaceledon
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom