Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
“Of course.” Chaceledon smiled, and headed downstairs. He put some water on to boil, gingerly feeding the stove with his flames and managing the heat so he didn’t collapse the iron. Sometimes, manfire was a bit more convenient with its lower temperatures. He poured the water into a carafe that he suspected once contained wine, and brought it up to her. “I have to head out into the Inner Wheel, before I forget. Rest. This place is safe.” He leaned down to kiss her, though he held his breath from the stink on her face. When she washed, however, the swelling and redness would be far diminished.

Chaceledon made sure she was comfortable, and struck out into Pedeo. First, the textiles. He needed something of his own magic put into the fabric he wanted. He wanted her clothed in sunset, or sunrise if she preferred. Earthy tones beneath to honor her heritage. Thankfully, there were some Abtati there who pointed him in the direction of traditional patterns for her tribe. He needed to shape the fabric to her, but most of these garments were made in secret. He’d have to eyeball her measurements and trust himself.

When he reached the Outer Wheel, he knew what he wanted. Gold, and opal just like the stone on Volker’s chest. The Well had shown him something that represented their bond, and he dared not stray from it. But it needed to be the right stone. It couldn’t be some dead thing, something silent. It had to have life, and purity, and to sing to her.

He looked monstrously out of place among the gem cutters, who were splitting, sorting, cutting, and shaping. Chaceledon hovered near the grading bins for opal. N1. Nothing else would suffice. N9 were for poor charlatans looking for something to fit into a tin cabochon. He sifted through the split rocks, examining them in his hands and pouring over each piece.

Chaceledon found what he wanted. A piece of fire opal, in a crystal schist. He picked up the stone, felt it, turned it over, and bought it on the spot. It was strong, an ancient stone dredged up from deep beneath the earth. It was molten fire hardened in some primordial cave beneath their feet, and he adored it.

He returned to the Lion House in a spectacular mood. He had his stone. He had the fabric. Now all he had to do was craft the robes he would use for his proposal.

Seteta
 
Seteta had almost drifted off to sleep in the tub when Chaceledon returned with the boiled water.

Chaceledon said:
“I have to head out into the Inner Wheel, before I forget. Rest. This place is safe.” He leaned down to kiss her, though he held his breath from the stink on her face.
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"Don't be gone too long," she murmured, sleepily returning his kiss, and then had him point out a gentle cleanser to use on her face before he left.

She soaked for a little while longer before scrubbing herself down, saving her face and hair for last. Carefully, so as not to get bathwater into the cuts on her face, she tilted her head back and drenched her hair before scrubbing and conditioning it. The cleanser made the cuts sting when she washed her face, but not too badly, and she carefully rinsed her face with the boiled water after ensuring it was cool enough for her skin.

Then she fiddled with knobs on the tub until she found one that made it drain, and stepped out of the tub to towel herself off. Chaceledon wasn't there to dry her hair, so she flipped her head over and squeezed the water out with the towel. After finding a light oil to smooth onto her face, and dabbing a little more of the disgusting smelling ointment on her face, Seteta slipped into the bed without bothering to find any pajamas.

She made an effort to stay awake until Chaceledon returned, but despite her most valiant efforts, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

But instead of sleep, she found herself in the Well, and Seteta groaned, dropping her head into her hands. She glanced down at herself and groaned again. Naked. Of course. Well, at least Nestor was the only one awake, and she headed toward the office door, still propped open, to see if he was nearby.

"Nestor? Sorry it took me so long. We've made it safely to Pedeo now."

Chaceledon
 
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Chaceledon smiled when he returned to find her in bed. He kissed her forehead, and hid his purchases in the closet. He changed for bed, choosing a light, diaphanous white robe with pink rabbit fur trim. He cuddled up with her in bed, resting his cheek on her chest. He drifted off to sleep, happy.

Nestor looked up at her in sheer disgust. “Oh for…put something on!” He threw a blanket at her. “It’s like you’re trying to drive them mad. The last thing anyone needs is a bunch of dead men lining up for you. Good gods. Wear pajamas.” He snapped his notebook closed. “He’s fine. The doctor gave him a little licorice to help with blood flow. He’s aching, and hurt, but he’s doing better. I expect he’ll be awake by morning.”

Nestor sighed. “How are you doing with the Well’s acquisition? Feeling alright? If so, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me with something.” He stood up. “This Well must have a focus of power. A heart, if you will. It’s not the office, and it’s not the storage hallway….which means it’s likely hidden to us. Think you could help in finding it?”

Seteta
 
Seteta scowled, but took the blanket wrapped it around herself. "It's not like I meant to come in here like this," she gestured at herself while scowling at Nestor. "I thought I was falling asleep and then I found myself in here. I don't have any pajamas yet."

She nodded as he updated her on Rheinhard's status. "That's a relief," she said, then found herself yawning again.

When Nestor asked about helping him find something in the Well, though, her shoulders slumped. "If we can find it quickly," she muttered, trying not to whine. "I've barely slept since we left Ragash, and then I had to keep one eye open even when I did try to sleep because Chaceledon's useless in the desert except when he's flying, though" --a silly grin crossed her face here-- "he did manage to take down a gazelle after I spooked the herd. But Persian was with us too and now that I know--"

The words almost tumbled from her lips, but Seteta's tired mind caught up with her rambling just in time for her to snap her mouth shut before she said what he did to the Inizae. Just because she was the steward of the Well now didn't mean that she could just... trust any of them. Really, she knew very little about Nestor, and had no idea what time he'd actually lived in. If Oor had been tangled with Persian for... practically forever, then it was very possible that someone within the Well might have actually born witness to her tribe's near destruction.

"How big can this place be?" she sighed, quickly changing the subject. "Are we looking for something I can see and you can't, then, if you think it's hidden to you?"

Chaceledon
 
“What he did to the Inizae. Yes, I know. If you want to see memories of it, let me know. I believe…oh gods, it was decades ago. Must have been either Klaus or Ferenzi tracking them down. Considering there are Abtati lines here…must have been Ferenzi.” Nestor finished, raising an eyebrow. “You stand in a living history timeline, most of it centered around this desert. The Ochresand Wars between Pedeo and Annuakat, several dozen skirmishes between the Autumn Court and the Summer Court…and we were contract killers for most of it. While we may not remember major political strife, anything to do with war, kidnapping, genocide…we have kept.”

The man sighed, listening to her ramble. “Best thing for you right now is to sleep. You’re hardly making any sense and if we tangle with something complicated now we could destabilize it.” Nestor muttered. “You need to start reading and watching the history here.” He pointed upward at the shards. “Here, I will get you started. Watch it, and lull off to sleep. I have work to do.”

Nestor lifted a hand and plucked down a shard, throwing it into the sandstone abyss. A scene covered the walls around her, and the more she watched the more it became real. She was…or rather the person whose memory it was… was seated by a stream. A babbling brook in June, full of fat trout and frogs. Slender legs before her in the water, the scent of early summer in her nostrils.

The hands that gripped the fishing pole were scarred and ruined, a great gash along one palm. The perspective was strangely dark on one side, with the viewers nose in sharp relief, as though blinded in one eye.

“Dad!” A giggling child of around six tumbled around the rocks, holding a rather traumatized bullfrog aloft. “Look what I caught!” Aluid giggled as he splashed around the shallows, scaring the fish. He held up the bullfrog in the viewers face.

“T-that’s f-fuh-fine Al, b-but do you want f-fish or fuh-frog for dinner?” The person making the memory asked, shifting the pole to one hand to ruffle Aluid’s hair. Aluid stuck out his tongue.

“Fish!” He barked.

“Then s-stop sc-scaring them.” The memory ended with quiet, with only the occasional re-cast from the memory maker or the splishing from Aluid disturbing the peace.

Seteta
 
"It would have been more than decades ago," Seteta murmured quietly, clutching the blanket a little tighter around her. "Centuries, certainly. Several millennia, if we go back to when it started. Chaceledon... remembers some of it. From before Oor, I think."

She smiled weakly as Nestor muttered, his irritation obvious, and plopped herself down on the sand before she fell down from exhaustion. As the memory-image filled the walls around her, she yawned again.

It's Huron's memory, isn't it? she thought to herself, eyes beginning to feel heavy, as the scene played out.

She wasn't quite sure when it ended, but at some point, she drifted off to sleep and vanished out of the Well.

At some point in the night, she stirred and woke, this time back in the bed in the Lion House. There was warmth weighing on her chest, and when she forced her bleary eyes open, a soft smile spread across her face at the sight of Chaceledon's head cradled against her chest.

She ran her fingers through his hair and tickled his ear.

"Chaceledon," she whispered. "I need to change positions."

How long has it been? she wondered. Since that night under the stars in the wagon, in the Cortosi swamps. A month? Two? When I first realized I loved him.

She reached up readjusted the pillows under her head, and then began teasing her fingers through Chaceledon's hair again, and over his neck and shoulders. Alternating between soothing strokes and teasing scratches with her nails, she closed her eyes and let herself relish the simple closeness.

Then her eyes opened again, and a devious smirk crossed her face. She lifted the knee closest to Chaceledon's body and draped her leg over his. She continued to stroke his hair, but her other hand slowly drifted down her torso.

"If you don't wake up soon," she murmured. "I'll just have to entertain myself."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon woke slowly to the feeling of her fingers in his hair and scratches along his ears that felt fantastic. He relished the slow awakening in a beautiful bed, both of them clean and safe. He could hear the low clanking and grinding of Pedeo wakening. The slave city rarely slept, but this was Auction Week. People would be arriving from every corner of Arethil to fight over a small, set amount of expensive and trained slaves. As such, slow, quiet mornings weren’t on the menu. The Inner Wheel was where most of the festivities would be, after all. If he listened, he could hear gardeners grooming the lawn outside their abode, making sure the curb appeal was perfect for guests. It was so strange having…normal people nearby. He’d spent so long in a lonely household that the concept of a gardener cheerily trimming the azaleas seemed insane.

He didn’t open his eyes, stubbornly nuzzling against her breasts. Why move away from such heavenly little pillows? He felt her hand drift by him and smirked, kissing her breast and looking up at her. Without a word he gently batted her hand aside and took up his rightful place, head buried between her thighs. His arms wound up to embrace and cradle her body.

He likened it to a nice amuse-bouche before their actual breakfast. That, unfortunately, would have to be prepared themselves. He made a note in the back of his head to see if there were any employable staff available.

Seteta
 
Seteta giggled as Chaceledon brushed her hand aside, then moaned as he settled between her thighs. Carding her fingers through his hair, she melted back into the pillows.


A little while later, she lay tucked into his chest with a leg draped over his hip. She could have easily drifted off to sleep again, but the sounds of the city outside were distracting. And she was hungry.

"I'm going to need clothes," she murmured in between laying soft kisses against Chaceledon's skin. "I accidentally popped into the Well last night while I was trying to fall asleep and scandalized poor Nestor."

Scooting up higher, Seteta gently nibbled at his collarbone. "What did you mean yesterday," she asked between teasing bites and kisses, "when you said 'as you are, as I am'? It felt significant."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon kissed her contentedly, smiling down at her. “Considering we are no longer destitute, I was thinking I’d take you to the shops today and get you something decent. After a decent breakfast, of course. The spas will be jammed full before Auction otherwise I’d have suggested a massage and seaweed wrap. Rheinhard needs clothes too, poor thing has been dressing in black cotton for too long.” He said the fabric like he would a curse word.

Chaceledon kissed her forehead. “After that whatever you like. A philosophy lecture in the gardens. A play. There might be a few erotic performances on…we could look at staff. We need at least a cook and a maid. I’d prefer to get a porter, three maids, a cook, a sous, and a butler.” he sat up and shook out his hair. “And you’ll find out what that phrase means soon enough.” He smiled over a shoulder at her. He was going to propose. He wanted her in his life. He wanted her for as long as the mortal realm would let her stay.

Rheinhard cleared his throat from the doorway. “Breakfast is ready. Before all that, Seteta and I need to have a talk.” He said. His voice was hoarse from screaming in the arena, and his breath hitched from his injured ribs. Chaceledon closed his dressing gown and immediately went to embrace him. Rheinhard winced.

“Hardy dear please take it easy today. You’re free. You don’t need to work ever again. Please rest. You can come with us to hire staff! And I know you need new clothes. Oh gods, I’ve been dying to get you out of military fatigues and into a suit. Then you can grow your hair out a bit; there’s no need to prevent anyone grabbing it now.” Chaceledon fussed.

Rheinhard kissed his cheek and gently pushed him away. “What I need…is for you two to eat.”

Seteta
 
"Mmm, I don't need to go to a spa for a massage, though," she purred quietly, returning his kiss. "How are the burns in your mouth feeling?"

Her brow furrowed as he spoke of staff. Exhibitions. This... Auction. "Do we need to take on a large staff right away, though?" Seteta asked. "If you're potentially going to sell the Lion House, then what's the point? For now I think we just need someone to help maintain the house, and someone to help in the kitchen."

The place was lavish, and perhaps if she hadn't been held captive in Witherhold, she would have liked it. But there was still the fact that it was within Persian's domain, and even if she wasn't able to see Oor's handiwork everywhere she looked, she had no desire to own a house in a place that had, at least partially, built its prestige on the enslavement of her people.

She pushed those thoughts away for the moment, though, and quirked a brow when Chaceledon said she'd know soon enough what he'd meant last night, but she just sighed and shook her head in fond amusement. It was obvious he was up to something, and she'd let him have his sly planning for a while.

Rheinhard interrupted from the doorway then, and Seteta pulled the sheets up around her as Chaceledon fussed over his son for a few minutes, though her stomach had growled when he mentioned breakfast.

"You can say 'no' to him, you know," Seteta spoke quietly, motioning toward Chaceledon as she met Rheinhard's gaze. "Just let me know if you need me to back you up."

Her gaze flickered back to Chaceledon. "Is there a robe or anything I can wear? All of my clean clothes are still back at the inn in Annuakat."

She turned back to Rheinhard then. "Are we talking before or after we eat? And would you rather have this discussion here, or in the Well? The Well might be... easier on your throat."

Rheinhard looked somewhat better, but it was obvious that his body would take quite some time to heal. Since he didn't have to physically drag her into the Well anymore, they could both lie down comfortably, and at least let their physical bodies rest some as they spoke.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon opened his mouth to show her. The flesh was red and irritated, but there was little of the black skin left. It appeared to be sloughing off, if anything, leaving irritated but healthy skin in its wake. “It’s better. Not entirely healed yet and I’ll have to be careful with my flames, but better.” He told her with a kiss. He looked slightly disappointed at the idea of not hiring a full staff but he saw the wisdom in it. “I suppose.
I’d like to know whether I’m a hedahn before I commit to selling it. But you’re right; a cook and a maid should do for three people.”

He could understand why she wanted to sell it. Her people had been hunted down and enslaved by Persian. There were likely dozens of them still here as Pets if they hadn’t been recycled….the fanciful euphemism for slaughter. The fae in particular had a taste for elven flesh, and what could command a higher price than a pampered slave? He was wary of being with no estate at all, but if Seteta insisted he’d live out on the sands in a tent with her. A big tent. With several rooms.

The dragon offered Seteta his dressing robe from the night before with a kiss. “I’ll chase you up something. Go have breakfast before it gets cold.” he smiled faintly. He supposed he could retrofit some of his older robes into something presentable for her.

Rheinhard nodded out of the room. “Over breakfast.” He muttered, and headed downstairs. To his credit, breakfast consisted of poached eggs, toast, and hollandaise with fresh fruit. He put a cover over Chaceledon’s portion and settled with a bowl of boiled oats and sugared strawberries for himself.

“Nestor was able to tell me a little of the changes to the Well.” Volker began. “It is strange. Oor always kept the connection tightly managed….this? I could feel you this morning, and your apprehension just now.”

Seteta
 
"If you are hedahn," Seteta murmured, reaching over to touch his face gently, "then my family will take you in. You will not be homeless or alone. You or Rheinhard."

She wasn't quite sure yet how to handle introducing Rheinhard to her family, but it would have to be done somehow. At least she had some time to start figuring it out. What she needed to know first was how he'd been involved in the Inizae's... issues.

Seteta slipped into the dressing gown Chaceledon held out for her and returned his kiss, then followed Rheinhard down to the kitchen. She sat at the table, curiously eyeing the food. The egg and toast she recognized, and the fruit as well, but the sauce was new to her. She dipped her finger in it and touched the sauce to her tongue.

"Mmm! It's good!" she said with a smile and seated herself at the table. As she ate, she listened to Rheinhard, blushing slightly.

She laid down her fork, and sighed. "Oor also knew this magic," she said. "I haven't the slightest clue yet of how to handle it."

Seteta glanced away and ran her fingers through her hair. "I... meant to ask if you were able to sense anything from me before Chaceledon and I... well. You know. Then it slipped my mind. Hopefully... I'll be able to learn how to keep my in-the-moment emotions from distracting you."

She turned to meet Rheinhard's gaze again. "I know... this is not necessarily what either of us wanted. And I'd hoped, after Chaceledon asked me to become the steward of the Well, that I would get to talk with Nestor and learn more about what it meant, and that I'd get to talk to you and make sure that you were willing. I'm... sorry that didn't get to happen."

Chaceledon

Chaceledon
 
Rheinhard nodded in approval. “Hollandaise. I learned to make it when Chaceledon demanded more complex food orders.” He smiled a bit, but it faded as Seteta moved to more serious topics. “Oor also had several thousand years on you. You will learn. Reach for the cord inside of you and take ahold of it. That is how you call me, and I call you. Push it away, or close yourself off from me. It is like…ignoring a noise you dislike. You must learn to tune it out.”

He ate his food in silence for a moment. “I know neither of us meant for this to happen. But you’ve handled it well. You’ve kept Nestor awake, who is the most mature man I’d trust. You kept everyone else asleep, and did not make any demands of the spell. You are doing better than another woman would do. Chaceledon would run around awakening his favorites and modifying the rooms.” He sighed. “I wish Chaceledon would have asked me. But what is done is done.”

Volker reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Try not to worry. The others cannot wake themselves, and I was most concerned about Klaus and Jess being awake. Nestor will never give me over to Persian. Klaus would enjoy the irony.” He said, and turned to his breakfast. “I can answer your questions now, at least.”

Seteta
 
Seteta picked up her fork again and stabbed a piece of fruit as she chuckled. "Just... forgive me if I slip up before I get the hang of it. You're probably going to experience far more about how Chaceledon makes me feel than either of us want."

She slowly worked at her plate as Rheinhard continued to talk, snorting a little. Chaceledon would absolutely try to renovate the entire Well from top to bottom if he could take it over. When Rheinhard patted her shoulder, she reached up and rested her hand on his for just a moment.

"Chaceledon asked me about doing this after we came back through the portal stone, when you weren't there. I understand why he did--his desire for both of you to be completely free of Oor." She sighed again and tapped her toes nervously under the table. "But I told him the only way I'd even consider it was under one condition: that he take the time to sit down with every Volker in the Well and attempt to make peace with them. It is clear that he owes many of you, if not all of you some apologies, whether or not forgiveness is granted."

Seteta glanced at the doorway then, hoping that Rheinhard would have enough time to answer her next question before Chaceledon came down.

"What is the issue between Chaceledon and Jess?"

Chaceledon
 
Rheinhard let his hand rest there for a moment before pulling away to eat his food. He listened to her condition, shaking his head a bit. “He does owe many of them an apology, but some wounds are too deep to heal. Especially since one of the parties involved is dead. If he wants to apologize, he will give them a true rest.” He said softly. Thankfully, it seemed Chaceledon was busy modifying some clothing. Putting him on a task like finding Seteta an outfit was a sure fire way to burn an hour.

“Jess.” Volker sighed heavily. “Jess was formerly Jason Volker. Chaceledon convinced Rosebury’s wife to bear a Volker child at Oor’s insistence. Afraid of what she’d made, she locked the child away in a closet for almost seventeen years and fed him through a slot in the door. Jess listened to an alchemist giving lectures in the lawn outside, and blew open the door. He escaped, took Oor’s deal to serve, and discovered Oor wasn’t the savior he thought he was. He gelded himself immediately after siring Gere.”

Seteta
 
"An apology can sometimes be the first step to healing something that seems unable to be healed. And even if they're dead, Chaceledon shouldn't waste this opportunity. Not everyone gets to see their loved ones again like this. Most don't," Seteta pointed out, then quietly finished her food as Rheinhard told her about Jess.

She shared his heavy sigh when he finished speaking, and thought quietly for a few minutes.

"Does that mean Jess is half fae?" she asked. "And that doesn't really explain why Jess hates Chaceledon. I saw how she reacted when we had to come into the Well in Vel Anir."

Chaceledon
 
Volker finished his meal, tipping the oatmeal into his mouth, then quietly gathered up her dishes. He moved to the sink, and began pumping the water using a small brass pump fixed to the basin. “No. Rosebury married a human woman, and despaired she would die early. He and Chaceledon convinced her to have Jess, knowing she would have to die for her weapons. Once she did, they broke one of the most sacred laws the Silent Court has. No one can come back from the dead. A soul is granted levity as an undead to finish any business but it’s very temporary.”

He scrubbed the dishes with a sponge, laying them aside on an acacia-wood rack. “Chaceledon carved the golem that holds Alleiah’s soul. Chaceledon is the reason Jess and her mother are both imprisoned. Oor could have found another woman. He could have found another family that would have treated Jess kinder. Alleiah was not an evil woman, but she was wholly unequipped to deal with the madness that comes with my breed.” He leaned on the sink for a moment, looking over at Seteta. “Would it be easier if I just showed you?”

Seteta
 
Seteta reached up and rubbed her forehead. So many things had been dealt with utterly the wrong way in that whole situation.

"Some of the people who commit the worst atrocities are the ones who are unwilling to look evil and madness straight in the face and call it what it is," she murmured as Rheinhard took the dishes.

As he washed the dishes, Seteta grabbed the kettle and filled it with water to boil. "Showing me would probably be easiest," she agreed. "But I need to clean my face and apply the ointment from the doctor again before I forget."

While waiting for the water to heat up, she dug through the cupboards for a heatproof container to cool it in.

"Why does Chaceledon call her Jason, not Jess?"

Chaceledon
 
Rheinhard opened the cupboard to the left of the stove and offered her a ceramic bowl. “That is Jess’ birth name. He is not female, nor will he be. He is convinced that he is a woman, to the point where he shattered his lower ribs to make corseting easier. The short hair rule was a constant battle.” Volker pointed out, picking up the kettle as it squealed and pouring it into her bowl for her. “It is easiest to just call him the female Jess than it is to fight that fight. She has a close relationship with Klaus, and Klaus enforces this the harshest. Saying ‘Jason’ is the quickest way to make an enemy out of him. Or to taunt him.”

He gently took her chin and examined her cuts. “Those are going to scar. Very neatly though, thanks to the doctor. I am sorry I bit you so harshly.” Rheinhard apologized.

Seteta
 
Seteta took the bowl with a quiet thanks and leaned against the counter opposite the stove, gnawing at her lip as Rheinhard spoke of Jess. She let him examine her cuts as she tried to sort out what she wanted to say.

"They're hardly my first scars," she said, reaching up to gently squeeze Rheinhard's wrist. "And you were frightened and exhausted. I can hardly blame you. I was foolish to go into that arena and expect you to be of sound mind in that moment."

Then she sighed, her gaze drifting absently toward the stove.

"My mother is a priestess of Abtatu," she spoke at last. "Though many tribes will disagree with our beliefs, the Abtati tend to unite under one core belief about Abtatu: Abtatu is formless and genderless. For many, that is where it ends.

"The Inizae, though" --and this was the first time that she'd named her specific tribe to Rheinhard, so her gaze flickered back to him for a moment to see if there would be any sort of reaction to the name-- "believe that Abtatu appears formless and genderless to us because Abtatu encompasses every form and every gender.

"We also have a belief that Abtatu holds dear those whose souls contradict the forms of their bodies. There are also those whose bodies are both male and female. Abtatu has a place for them all, and the Inizae follow our god, in that regard."

She would not try to convince Chaceledon or Rheinhard to change their minds, not in that moment. That was a long journey ahead of them, one better taken through gentleness and example than by beating them over the head. Rheinhard, at least, seemed to respect Jess' wishes to her face. She would, though, need to have a talk with Chaceledon about that. And possibly a long talk, in private, with Jess as well.

The water reached boiling, then, and Seteta wrapped the kettle handle with a cloth and lifted it from the stove, carefully pouring it into the ceramic bowl.

"Chaceledon hasn't given me a tour of the Lion House yet," she said. "Is there a room where you'd prefer to meet, for discussing matters within the Well? Or do you want to go back to your room, and I'll go back to the master bedroom, and meet you in the Well after I've tended to my wounds?"

Chaceledon
 
Rheinhard didn’t react to the name. He knew why she looked at him. They had helped capture Inizae in the past. Persian had treated them like fox hunts. Chase the elves to exhaustion over the sands or trap them in clever contraptions. Rheinhard didn’t like or approve of such things…but neither had he been given the option to refuse nor was consulted. He felt no guilt. He had done far worse.

“Jess might have been a good adherent to your god if not for the madness. What you must remember is that regardless of condition, all of us are mad in some way or another. Jess is dangerous. She has been the closest to eliminating both Oor and Chaceledon with those explosives of hers. She openly despises this family and lives to cause chaos. Be careful waking her up.” Rheinhard cautioned.

He took the kettle after she was done with it, and began preparing a pot of tea for Chaceledon. “The Well is yours. We meet where and when you choose. I will be in the back garden. It is comfortable and no doubt Chaceledon is in a flurry of clothing modifications.” He mentioned. Rheinhard opened the back door from the kitchen. Off the dining room there was a mud room of sorts, with a glass door that slid back to reveal a small lawn tucked up against the walls of the Inner Wheel.

Rheinhard settled on the grass. It was plentiful with a small vegetable garden, rhododendrons, and lavender. There was a small gazebo in the corner, but Rheinhard favored resting on the grass.

Seteta
 
"I will remember," Seteta answered. "But madness does not make someone less worthy of respect and dignity. And the one who came closest to klling Oor, you say? Perhaps she knows something that might help us."

She tried not to cringe when Rheinhard said the Well is yours, but nodded as he pointed out the garden. "I'll be there soon," she said, then carefully carried her bowl of boiled water back up to the master bedroom.

Seteta stayed quiet as she washed her face and re-applied the salve, carefully checking the wounds in the mirror. Rheinhard was right, they would scar, but by the time they were fully healed, at most she would have a couple of small marks under each eye. And as much of a stench as the ointment had, she could tell it was working quickly. While still tender, the wounds were no longer red and puffy.

"Chaceledon?" she called out, wandering toward the closet while she stripped off the dressing gown and laid it on the bed, "I need some real clothes soon."

She grinned as she peeked inside, leaning against the door frame. "Unless you want me to wander around like this all the time. But you also need to go down and eat the breakfast Rheinhard made for you before it gets cold."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon was settled on the floor of the closet. He had a needle in one hand and an older robe of his in the other, and was hemming it and reforming it so she could wear it. He looked up from his spot on the floor. He’d taken some time to change his makeup, brush his hair, and change his nails into a milky white glass, but otherwise he’d been focused on her clothing problem.

He stood up and held it up to her, tutting. “Ergh, well it’s not as though you’ll be wearing it for too long. Just long enough to get you into the shop. Here…” he tied and bit off the thread, offering the garment to her. It was an older taupe robe that he’d shortened and taken in at the waist for her. It was the best he could do on such short notice…and it was only until they got to the shop. How embarrassing. He felt like he was putting a bag on her head. He frowned, looking at the clothing up and down. “I swear to gods that man better have left me something in the Pedeon Bank or I’ll kill him. I haven’t taken Hardy‘s measurements yet either and you know how much he hates to be touched. Built like an ox, poor thing, I think it’s from the dwarven blood from that hideous little thing Yarel was obsessed with. Oh well. I’ll have you both looking good by the end of the day.” he tutted.

Chaceledon hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do your makeup?” he frowned. He was fussing. He looked at the salve on her face. “You’ll have to wipe that off before we go shopping; you’ll get us kicked out of every shop. How are those cuts healing? They look alright. Miles better.”

Seteta
 
Seteta couldn't really see what was lacking in the garment, and she took it from him and quickly slipped it over her head.

"Stop fretting," Seteta said, coming over and wrapping her arms around Chaceledon's waist. "Persian already said he was transferring Oor's funds to your account."

Then she pulled back and scowled up at him. "And stop making remarks about people the Volkers fell in love with. From what you've said, your dahn is going to be thinking of me as the 'hideous little thing' so it makes you look rather hypocritical."

When he asked about her makeup, she shrugged. "I don't care. It's going to be a while before we can go shopping, though. I need to take care of some things in the Well with Rheinhard. You need to eat, and if you don't eat I'm going to tell Rheinhard how you passed out in Maraan."

Seteta stretched up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw--as high as she could reach without him bending down--before she slipped away. "If you want to do my makeup, you'll have to do it while I'm in the Well. Rheinhard and I will be in the garden. And I think I'll only need to do the ointment for a day or two more. The cuts don't hurt when I touch the skin around them anymore."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon clicked his tongue in disapproval, fussing with her hair a moment. “No one could mistake your catlike beauty for a dwarf, don’t be silly.” he adjusted the clothing on her a moment, making sure it hung right. He tilted her chin up so he could kiss her. Of course he would eat. He patted her. “I’ll think of something while you’re in the Well. In the meantime, I’ll be a good boy and go eat.”

The dragon slid out of her arms with a fond kiss and headed downstairs. He would eat, then wait until she was in the Well to doll her up a bit. The Inner Wheel was very much a place of appearances. He wanted her to put a good foot forward when it came to the society here.

Rheinhard was settled in the grass, enjoying laying on his back and looking up at the metal ceiling far above their heads. Light streaked down from the skylights, letting sun and warmth in the gardens as the wheel rotated. The noises here were still very much the sounds of a city; metal on metal, the sound of rushing water through old pipes and the roar of noise from the Outer Wheel just on the other side of the wall. Rheinhard sighed and closed his eyes. He was separated from Oor. At long last.
Seteta
 
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