Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Rheinhard looked at her. If he wanted to be…domestic, he would have to learn. Before, it hadn’t mattered. His function had been to earn money for the household with his body. Now he had no such expectations. He had to make an effort to learn how to be around people. He rinsed a dish and set it aside. “I’ll come. To help you. Draconian card games are needlessly complex.” He muttered.

As for Auction…he handed her a pot to dry off, and a rag. “Auction is always traumatic in some way for the people who participate. Some pets have been preparing their entire lives for this, and take it seriously enough to sabotage competition. That’s fine for the people born here. The ones captured are often at a disadvantage; they either can’t speak the language, or don’t want to play this game. There are always pleas for mercy during the portion pets are given to prove themselves worthy. Thankfully it is not bloody. Pets gelded are done so by a physician, pets led to slaughter are done so in the Outer Wheel. You will never see someone die. The freed ones are free on the spot. Just…pushed gently off to the side with a letter of credit and abandoned. Notice there are no homeless here. They have three days to prepare to leave the city, many of them for the first time. So you see, it is always rigged toward the house. Pedeon born pets are so terrified of leaving they carefully calculate it so they sell. Non-Pedeon pets sabotage themselves not playing the game, and either get led to slaughter or bought bottom-barrel. Very rarely does a non-citizen win his freedom and a Pedeon pet go to slaughter.”

Rheinhard sighed and shook his head. “This gives the impression Persian’s are more valuable, so the next Auction he charges more. He is not scamming anyone; the pets he produces do their jobs and do them well. But fae games are never even. Ever.”

He took the pot from her and helped her down, setting aside the dishes to dry and rinsing his hands. Rheinhard looked her in the eyes. “When you go, be polite, be arrogant, and do not show empathy.” He nodded his head toward the parlor, where games had been pulled out of a cabinet.

“There you two are. We’re playing Aniran Towers first.” Chaceledon said lightly. There were no cards in this game, only wooden pieces stacked five by five in opposing directions, constructed into two towers. “We thought we’d start simple. See, you can only use one arrow…finger…to help poke holes in the tower. The idea is to steal the tower stones brick by brick and make a new single tower. There’s a catch; if you topple the towers and alert the guards we all lose, and you have to do what it says on the underside of the tile. Whomever completes their tower first wins. You can also choose to attack your opponents’ towers instead of the main two.”

“Of course you would pick a game of subterfuge.” Rheinhard settled on the floor, taking a corner position on the rug. He frowned and took one of the tiles, flipping it. “ ‘Remove one article of clothing’ ?”

“It’s supposed to be a party game!” Carnelia giggled as Rheinhard replaced the tile.

“Beauty before age.” Chaceledon smiled at Seteta, indicating she should go first.

Seteta
 
Seteta smiled and nodded as Rheinhard clarified that he would come, to help her, though there was a touch of amusement in her eyes. "I'm pretty sure 'needlessly complex' describes everything about dragons, from what I've observed so far," she laughed softly, taking the pot and rag that Rheinhard handed her, drying it with practiced ease.

As Rheinhard spoke of Auction, what it was like and what to expect--because she was certain that Chaceledon would insist that she attend with him--her hands slowed, and eventually when the pot was dry, she rested it on her knees, clutching the rim, her knuckles white and face solemn as he spoke of what exactly 'auction' meant for the pets involved.

"Arrogant," she sighed as Rheinhard took the pot and helped her off the counter. "I will try. Though I've often found those who believe they are superior by right of birth tend to mistake confidence for arrogance." Empathy was, truly, going to be the harder one. It would help if she could get away with wearing a headscarf for the event.

They moved from the kitchen to the parlor, then, and she grabbed her bowl of food from the tray before she lowered herself to the floor next to Chaceledon. "Toppling towers?" she muttered. "What happened to eating?"

She tucked a few bites of food away while the game was explained, though she almost snorted rice out her nose at the card that Rheinhard flipped over out of curiosity, sharing an amused grin with Carnelia.

"How many of the stripping cards are there?" she whispered to Chaceledon. "Because I've only got the dress on."

Chaceledon said:
“Beauty before age.” Chaceledon smiled at Seteta, indicating she should go first.
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"I'm not sure I'm the most beautiful one here by everyone's agreement," she teased, but she settled her bowl of food in her right hand and then stretched out her left hand to 'poke' one of the tower stones out of its place, letting the diamond and opal ring sparkle in the light. She figured that Chaceledon hadn't told Carnelia and Gharnir yet because she hadn't been tackled in the kitchen.

Chaceledon
 
“I’m sure all of them are rude in some way or another.” Chaceledon said playfully, taking up his bowl of nibbling a few polite bites. Carnelia and Gharnir were much more enthusiastic, though Carnelia leaned over to steal Gharnir’s chicken. Her cheeks full, she clapped and wrung her hands like she was going to try and take flight with her wrists.

Gharnir caught sight of the ring and smiled, setting his bowl aside. “Congratulations!” he said while his wife swallowed.

“Chace you FIEND letting me spot it on my own! Oh my gods dear give me your hand! It’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful. This is his work isnt it? He does such lovely work and what an attractive stone! Oh such good spell work as well, you should be so proud! Gharnir proposed to me with ash wood which is lovely but isn’t there just something about stone!” Carnelia gushed, turning Seteta’s hand this way and that. Rheinhard cleared his throat and gently took Seteta’s hand in his before Carnelia broke her wrist trying to get the gem to shine.

“Has she met fathe- oh what am I saying of course you haven’t been home! Well you’ve got to go now. Mother will be insensate if you don’t show her Seteta.” Carnelia declared.

“All in good time.” Chaceledon kissed Seteta’s cheek, and picked up the tile she’d flicked out. “Tell the other players a secret about yourself.”

Seteta
 
If there were two dragons who are completely the opposite in demeanor, Seteta mused quietly as Carnelia enthusiastically ate, then smiled as the woman clearly spotted the ring on her hand while her mouth was full, it is Chaceledon and his sister.

"Thank you," she murmured to Gharnir in the moment before Carnelia was screeching excitedly and grabbing her hand. As Carnelia gushed, twisting her hand back and forth, Seteta just smiled while waiting for an opportunity to actually answer the woman's questions.

But she did spare a grateful smile to Rheinhard when he carefully freed her hand before her wrist was strained.

"Of course it's his work," Seteta smiled up at Chaceledon after he kissed her cheek. "And I'm certain he chose the stone since I'm a geomancer."

When Chaceledon read off the tile, she frowned for a moment, thinking. She didn't really have many secrets, there were simply things that they hadn't learned about each other yet. There was one thing, though... she hadn't been sure whether to bring it up beforehand or not.

"My birthday is in four days," she said with a shrug.

Hopefully no one would ask how old she was going to be.

Chaceledon
 
“Four days?!” Chaceledon asked in alarm. Carnelia slapped his arm sharply. “But…how old will you be?”

“You’ve been with this woman, proposed to her, and you don’t even know her birthdate? Or how old she’s going to be? Men! You’re all useless sometimes! It’s okay dear, if I know a man who can find a birthday present quickly it’s my brother. We don’t have the time to arrange a party…and I really don’t know who we’d invite…but we could have a small to do here. I’ll bake you something. Do Abtati have birthday traditions? Oh! Please tell us!”

Chaceledon rubbed the back of his neck. It seemed like such a strange, odd little thing to omit. “Well just so you know, Chaceledon’s is the twentieth of the fourth month. His hatch date, that is. Dragons don’t really celebrate every year but it’s a good excuse to throw a party!” Carnelia giggled. “I hatched with him. Gharnir’s is in the dead of winter, and what about you?” She nodded at Rheinhard.

“October 29th. Born two hours after midnight, six pounds, eleven ounces, 18 inches long.” Chaceledon said, giving Rheinhard a small smile.

“We don’t celebrate birthdays.” Rheinhard shrugged.

“Any of them?” Carnelia looked thunderstruck, and slapped her thigh authoritatively. “Well that’s going to change. A boy growing up without nameday sweetis ridiculous.”

Chaceledon reached out and flicked out a tile, offering it to Seteta to read aloud. Hopefully before Carnelia ruminated too long on Volker birthdays.

Seteta
 
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Chaceledon's alarm was something she had not been expecting, but as Carnelia began chattering again, Seteta gave a sigh of relief.

"The twentieth of the fourth month," she murmured, making note of Chaceledon's hatch date. It was several weeks away yet, she noted. Gharnir's would've been not too long ago, and Rheinhard's... she winced. It had probably passed while they were traveling through the swamps.

She couldn't help but smile a little, though, at Chaceledon's proud affection as he listed off Rheinhard's birth facts. He reminded her of the older mut in her tribe who gushed over their children as they were sent off on their vision quests.

"Abtati birthdays are pretty simple," she answered Carnelia's earlier question. "Usually just a gift of some sort from our parents, sometimes some other close family members. If we're near an oasis or the coast, then usually everyone with birthdays recently passed or coming soon will take a day to relax and play in the water."

She didn't mention the traditions for their seventeenth birthdays yet. It was more elaborate, in preparation of the vision quests, and not really a celebration so much as somber rituals. Upon their return, there was a week of mourning for those who did not return, and then a day of celebrations as those who completed the vision quest were fully welcomed into the tribe as adults.

When Chaceledon handed her the tile to read, she scrutinized it for a moment, silently sounding through the words.

"Tell the story of your most embarrassing romantic encounter."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon smiled. “Dragon birthdays are usually week long affairs. When I had birthdays it was all my favorite foods, my favorite sports and activities I liked. We all went to a quartz mine once, and I had everything lit up. The party lasted around…what, five days? It was fun to watch friends stumble out of the mines in their best clothes.”

Carnelia giggled. “I remember that, only you could make pawing around for rocks trendy. I still have my necklace from that party. He had us all find a quartz point and made us all lovely necklace chains. Dead drunk, I might add.” She snickered. “Fifteen thousand birthdays missed…! It should last for months.”

Chaceledon smiled at Seteta. “It won’t be a vacation at an oasis but I’ll be sure to get you something. As for that tile you’re holding…my most embarrassing…” He leaned back on his arms. “I think it was probably my nemahji. My father’s brother was quite possibly one of the most awkward lovers I’ve ever had in my life…and I got the sense he was doing it less out of tradition and more out of lust, which just ruined the entire point.”

“Mine wasn’t much better. He refused to touch me.” Carnelia rolled her eyes and poked Rheinhard. Rheinhard shifted away to discourage her from doing it again and pulled a tile from the middle of the leftmost tower.

Seteta
 
Seteta laughed softly at story about the quartz mine birthday celebration. It sounded fun, having a week of birthday celebrations that were all things the recipient enjoyed. Fifteen thousand missed birthdays... he must have been so, so young for a dragon when Oor tricked him. He's been away from dragons, then, longer than he was with them.

"You are gift enough," Seteta smiled, leaning over to kiss Chaceledon softly as he settled back on his arms.

Then she made a face and shuddered as he mentioned that his nemahji had been his uncle. "We have laws against familial relationships like that among the Inizae," she said quietly. She didn't know what to say to Carnelia's comment about her own nemahji. She knew it was an important tradition for these dragons, but she was a little baffled by it all.

As Rheinhard plucked a tile out of the tower, she quietly snagged it from his hand and, after squinting at it as with her tile before, finally read out:

"Trade clothes with someone in the room for half an hour."

Chaceledon
 
“To dragons, it’s seen as a…well, a way to keep family members close, get someone to owe you favors, and make sure your first time is with someone you trust.” Chaceledon explained gently. “It’s not always a family member. Carnelia’s was a good family friend, and I believe her that they spent the night playing cards.”

“Pity too, he was handsome. Gharnir was my first.” Carnelia smiled and leaned against her husband, who put an arm around her.

Rheinhard looked at the tile, frowning at the words as Seteta read them. “No.” He said simply, and set the tile as the first to start his own tower.

Chaceledon giggled. “Oh come here you old spoilsport.” he took Rheinhard’s hand and led him out of the parlor. When they returned, Rheinhard looked like he was drowning in Chaceledon’s robes and Chaceledon was wrinkling his nose. Rheinhard’s chest was broader but his torso was shorter, giving the stained linen shirt the appearance of a loose crop top. The pants he’d had to cuff; his long legs weren’t a match for Rheinhard’s short, powerful stride. Chaceledon sat down, giggling and kissing Seteta’s cheek.

Carnelia drew a tile. “Ooh, explain your favorite holiday. Mine is dahnedan, or Family of Families. It’s a friendly competition where one family starts a dish, then another completes it. We had some great family dinners that way…pity we can’t do it now. We’re hedahn.” she looked sadly at her hands, and turned the tile over, then sighed and set it in front of her. Gharnir kissed her cheek, and took his turn.

“‘Describe your partner’s favorite path in bed’. My darling, you are far too distracted to pick one path. You pick them all, at different points, and that is what I love about you. Never a dull moment.” Gharnir chuckled.

Rheinhard blushed a bit, but at least the other dragon had been…diplomatic. They waited for Seteta to take her turn.

Describe your deepest fantasy.

Seteta
 
Seteta nodded as Chaceledon explained a little more about the nemahji. "We have a similar tradition among my tribe," she said. "When we reach puberty, and begin to express an interest in sexual matters, we're each paired up with someone of the same sex, a few years older than us. They're responsible for teaching us about our bodies, and our passions and desires, without the awkwardness that can sometimes happen when one has to rely on only their parents for that knowledge. Usually, that person ends up being an Inizae's first lover as well, though not always."

When Rheinhard muttered a rather emphatic no in response to the tile he'd removed, Seteta bit her lip and giggled. She almost offered him her dress, but Chaceledon was tugging him out of the room and when they returned she basically collapsed into a giggling heap. Rheinhard in his mother's robes looked a little out of place, but it at least seemed comfortable. Chaceledon... she just continued to giggle as he sat back down next to her and kissed her cheek, and she teasingly stroked her knuckles against his exposed ribs.

She leaned against him, enjoying the closeness of the evening, even if it was a bit awkward at times with the questions and answers. She grinned as Carnelia spoke of her favorite holiday, though her eyes darkened a little with sadness as the dragoness mentioned being hedahn.

"I don't care if you're hedahn," she muttered forcefully. "In mine and Chaceledon's home, you will always be welcome. Right, sehejib?"

She laughed at Gharnir's not at all detailed answer about Carnelia's lovemaking tendencies, smiling softly as she felt just a faint echo of Rheinhard's relief.

As she plucked out another tile, the tower briefly wobbling for a moment before it settled. When she read off the tile's challenge, though, she blushed scarlet from collarbone to hairline.

Seteta fell silent for several moments, biting at her lip as she looked back and forth between Rheinhard and Chaceledon. She wasn't sure she could be as... ambiguous in her speech as Gharnir had been.

But... she glanced back down at the tile, biting the inside of her lip. It didn't say sexual fantasy. Just... fantasy. She had no desire to subject Rheinhard to the types of thoughts she had about Chaceledon, and especially not in front of Chaceledon's sister, though she doubted that she or Gharnir would be scandalized. But... she thought, perhaps, there was something else that would work.

Her blush faded away as her eyes took on a wistful look, and she bent her knees, wrapping her arms around them as she tucked them up to her chest.

"The legends and stories of the Inizae say that we were once the pharaohs of Amol-Kalit, but that when we grew prideful and complacent, Abtatu took away our right to rule and cast us into the desert until we learned the error of our ways," she spoke softly. "When I was a young girl, I used to imagine that rather than a being a dark-skinned sharp-ear whose tribe had lived in hiding for generations, I was a princess, heir to the throne in one of the buried palaces in Oox-meqtwl, living a life of ease with a dozen servants to wait on me hand and foot while the world shaped itself to my whims.

"Of course, I realized eventually that type of life was why, if the stories were true, that Abtatu had banished us from ruling in the first place. But now, as I've watched the numbers of my tribe dwindle, and our oases dry up, I've realized that if I was a princess--was an heir to a throne--that I would use it to help my people be more at ease."

Her eyes turned soft and fond as she looked back at Chaceledon. "So I would say that my deepest fantasy is to be able to protect those I love. To give them a place where they are safe, without a care in the world, where we can all have as many children as we desire, and hear their carefree laughter ringing through the air."

When Chaceledon drew his next tile, it would read, Portray you favorite type of food... through dance.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon nodded. “Sounds like a good tradition.” he noted with a glance at Rheinhard he hoped she caught. It sounded like something he wanted to introduce Rheinhard to, when he was ready. He’d been cheated out of the normal teenage way of discovering things. Why not start from scratch? He took Seteta’s hand and nodded in agreement. “You’re always welcome in our home, Carnelia. You and Gharnir both.”

The dragon listened to her fantasy. He smiled wistfully; her and Rheinhard weren’t so different. They both wanted peace, though she wanted the ability to make peace for others more than herself. To help her people. He leaned against her. “Maybe that dream will come sooner than you thought. You’re already the Queen of my heart. Anything I own is yours. Everything I am is yours. If you like, we can make that oasis for your people.”

He took his tile, and laughed. “Let’s see if you can guess.” he got up. “No helping them, Rheinhard.”

Rheinhard watched Chaceledon as he blew soft white smoke into the air, twirling it around himself. He shook his hips a bit, waving slowly and sinuously, then slowly curled down into a ball, like a flower opening in reverse. The smoke swirled around him, and dissipated into the air.

Steamed dumplings. The thought came easily to Rheinhard. Whether she took it or not was another matter.

Seteta
 
Seteta caught Chaceledon's hintful glance toward Rheinhard when she spoke of the Inizae's customs, but it was something they could discuss later. And it wasn't something she would suggest later if Rheinhard himself wasn't interested.

She pressed a kiss to Chaceledon's cheek as he said they could make an oasis for her people. "Perhaps," she smiled. "But it's not a decision I can make on their behalf. They'd all have to decide."

When Chaceledon took his tile, laughing, and stood to do the challenge, Seteta looked up at him with a smile on her face. As he began to blow smoke around and wiggle his hips before shrinking into a ball, she started giggling. She ignored Rheinhard's mental prodding, though, and instead scrunched her nose up as she thought. It reminded her of something...

"Oh!" she said, clapping her hands. "Those little stuffed things that Rheinhard made when we stayed at the pet house!"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon giggled and unfurled with a flourish, smiling at her and throwing his hair back with a flick of his head. “Exactly!” he laughed. He settled down next to Seteta and lazily put an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. He cuddled with her as the game went on. Rheinhard managed to avoid most of the more embarrassing tiles, and it was quietly accepted that some tiles would simply be passed on.

Carnelia watched her brother. He was so content. Chaceledon was truly happy with Seteta in his arms. The relationship wasn’t a normal one, but her brother had never been entirely normal. She leaned against Gharnir as they finished the game, ate the last of their food and relaxed.

“Tomorrow we’ll see about my estate. I know you don’t want to stay here long. Auction as well.” Chaceledon kissed Seteta’s hair.

Rheinhard was curled up on a couch, dozing.

Seteta
 
As the evening progressed, filled with laughter and merriment, Seteta thought she might just burst with happiness. To sit there and visit with his family, to have his arm around her... she didn't think there was much more she could want out of this life.

By the time the game was finished and the conversation had lulled, Rheinhard had curled up on a couch, and Seteta couldn't help but smile when she noticed he was actually relaxed and dozing.

"Thank you, sehejib," she murmured as he said he'd look into his estate the next day.

Once Carnelia and Gharnir were settled in a room, and Rheinhard shuffled to his own, Seteta happily slipped her dress off and crawled into Chaceledon's arms in their own bed, pressing a soft kiss to his chest as she drifted off to sleep without tumbling into the Well by accident as she did so.


Seteta woke early, content and refreshed, the next morning, and snuggled closer into Chaceledon's side. She tugged at his pajamas until she found his skin, then softly spread kisses across his chest and shoulders and neck until he began to stir.

"Good morning," she purred softly. "You gave me such a nice wake up gift yesterday I thought I'd return the favor."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon was happy to wake up that way, in particular. Then to have a nice bath, spend time grooming himself, and dressing himself in…more current attire. He favored robes, but they’d gone out of vogue at least in Pedeo, and he’d replaced them with leather shoes, trousers, a white silk shirt, the black corset vest he’d gotten at the shop, and black nails to match. He added a hint of red dichroic glass to his nails to match his hair.

Auction today. It was in the air. The sheer noise would begin from dawn until dusk, and echo relentlessly around the city. The population of the Inner Wheel had doubled overnight; nobles from all over Arethil from Alliria to Volta had come to see what was on offer. Of course, there were slavers offering cheap and fake pets attempting to ride on the coats of the former. Persian, usually sequestered in a Pet House or the Centre Wheel, was out and about reviewing the staging, the lineup, and guarding the Pet Book. Kennedi was flitting around like a madman putting out fires.

Chaceledon looked out of their windows to a crowd. “I’m going to have to wrestle Rheinhard into a suit.” he muttered. He found a very sweet note from his sister on the dining table, thanking Rheinhard for breakfast and informing him they’d already be scouting Auction.

It was perhaps nine or ten in the morning, judging by the light filtering down onto the crowds. Chaceledon stood in the bedroom and watched out of their window, curling a hand under his chin. “This is going to be a madhouse.”

Madhouse was perhaps a light term. There was an odd pall to the air, the scent of blood drifting among jasmine and perfumes. Auction may have been a happy affair for many, but it was clear by sheer scent blood was already flowing. Chaceledon frowned, and looked closer at the streets. Channels alongside the cobblestones were running with deep red rivulets. That was a warning as much as it was a way to dispose of waste.

Seteta
 
As they bathed and prepared for the day, Seteta tried to cling to the mood from the night before, and from when she woke. But as the noise and the bustle from the streets slowly began to permeate the quiet within the house, Seteta grew apprehensive. She still smiled and chattered with Chaceledon, but there was a quiet anxiousness in her eyes and a tenseness to her shoulders.

She dressed in a loose green kaftan that Chaceledon said was made of something called silk georgette, but the 'silk' was the only part of that she recognized. There was a solid, fitted undergown to it, but the overdress was sheer and breathable and embroidered with topaz, smoky quartz, and gold beads over the front of the bodice and down the sleeves.

She had Chaceledon braid her hair and pin it up and then asked him to paint her eyes. When he was done, she picked out a dark brown headscarf with a shimmering undertone that matched her eyes and draped it around her neck, then snuck downstairs while he finished dressing himself to have a quick bite of breakfast. Her stomach was in knots already, so she found something light but filling--some sort of smooth, sweet custard in the coldbox--and then busied her mind and hands for a few minutes preparing some meat for the gargoyles.

She slipped out front and fed them, ignoring the combination of stunned stares and curious glances from the streets as she crooned to the cats and scratched under their chins and behind their ears when they'd finished. They were a bit on the wilder side that day, and she wondered if it was because of the scent of blood on the air. She picked up the plates and took them back to the kitchen before returning to the bedroom to rejoin Chaceledon.

Chaceledon said:
I’m going to have to wrestle Rheinhard into a suit.” he muttered.
Click to expand...

Seteta shrugged. "He's a grown man," she pointed out as she strapped on a pair of dark brown sandals. "And I'm sure you've taught him the proper clothing for Auction. If he wants to rebel a little by dressing casually, I think he's earned that right."

Chaceledon said:
Chaceledon stood in the bedroom and watched out of their window, curling a hand under his chin. “This is going to be a madhouse.”
Click to expand...

She sighed and walked over to the window, wrapping her arms around him from behind and nestling her face between his shoulder blades, soaking in his warmth and his scent.

"As long as I am by your side," she murmured, "it will be bearable."

Chaceledon
 
“There is no dressing casually here.” Chaceledon told her gently. “There are former clients of mine here, I’m fairly sure. I’ve seen a few faces that might be familiar.” He set one of his glass fingernails between his lips as he watched the crowd. Food and trinket vendors were beginning to smell the money in the air, and were flocking to the Inner Wheel. There were three tiered stages. The tallest faced west and would hold the best pets. The middle faced East and would hold less expensive, but standard fare. The last stage facing south were dispassionately known as the Dreg. Old pets no longer able to serve their functions, pets that hadn’t submitted, and political prisoners were put to the knife here, their meat butchered in front of the crowd like a spectacle. It was from the Dregs that the bloodflow stemmed.

Chaceledon turned away from the window, thanking whatever gods that they had a northeasterly window. He kissed Seteta’s cheek and offered her an arm.

Rheinhard was waiting for them. He wore a simple black suit, with a black cotton shirt and boots. His knives were strapped around his thigh, and Chaceledon spotted an older muzzle around his face. It was much more beaten and worn, and Oor had demanded it be replaced. Chaceledon opened his mouth to object, then thought better of it. Volker was known in this city by that muzzle. It could afford them at least a little protection.

“Stay close.” Rheinhard told Seteta. “Bidding on the VIPs doesn’t start until evening, morning is heavy on the bloodshed, and most of the day is taken up by the Mezzanine, where normal-cost pets are sold. Alta, the highest stage, should be empty.”

“We visit the Dregs first. I have a feeling my father wouldn’t have let so many pets go back to Pedeo unscarred…which puts them directly in the butchers path.” Chaceledon said grimly.

“Then I suggest we stop wasting time.” Rheinhard said calmly.

Seteta
 
"Clients?" she asked quietly, letting her arms fall away as Chaceledon turned and kissed her cheek. Before she took his proffered arm, Seteta quickly wrapped her headscarf into place, not even needing a mirror as she draped it over the lower half of her face and snuggly tucked it around her ears, fastening it around her neck. The cuts on her cheeks were scabbed over now, so the fabric wouldn't irritate them or hold in infection.

Then she looped her arm through his, and let him lead her down the stairs. Rhienhard, it seemed, was dressed appropriately enough to satisfy Chaceledon.

She nodded at Rheinhard's cautioning to stay close, though her fingers clenching at Chaceledon's sleeve betrayed her anxiousness. While the two finished speaking, she took a few steadying breaths.

"The dregs?" she asked, uncertain if she wanted to know the answer as they stepped out the door together.

The gargoyles immediately leapt from their spots guarding the door, coming to rub their muzzles against her hands and legs, searching for another treat. "Not now, loves," she murmured, taking a moment to pet them. "Tonight."

Then, on a whim, she pressed her palm to the muzzle of the one closest to her. Come with me, she whispered into its mind, into the magic that made it, making sure that it was bound to her and not the property. The stone beast flicked its tail and took up stance at her side. She reached over and scratched the other cat under its chin, giving it a command as well, to stay and guard the house.

The gargoyle stuck close to her side, nearly leaning into her, as she looped arm back through Chaceledon's.

Chaceledon
 
“Jewelry clients. I was once a designer of half-recent reputation.” Chaceledon teased, but his good humor vanished when they walked through the door. “The dregs are where old pets discarded by their masters, pets who refuse to submit, and political prisoners are killed and sold. Many fae enjoy the taste of human and elven meat…some dragons have a taste for it. I never did.” Chaceledon explained in a low voice. “Be strong, koiros.” He kissed her hand, and stepped into the crowd.

Rheinhard was at Chaceledon’s side, and the gargoyle at Seteta’s. Thankfully, that meant they weren’t too pressed for space. Those who knew Volker’s face mask gave him a respectful berth, and no one wanted their feet trod on by a marble lion.

The scent of blood grew thicker the closer they got to the Dregs. The gutters were thick with blood, mixed with alcohol to thin it out and prevent it from becoming a gelatinous mess in the streets. The Dregs itself was a wooden platform slightly taller than Seteta was, with a steel table that drained down into the gutters. A man brought forward older pets, or pets that had suffered scars, or couldn’t perform their functions in some way.

The bidding was by piece. A pet was led forward, eyes glassy and stumbling. “Persian drugs them. They feel nothing.” Rheinhard told Seteta, but it offered little comfort to Chaceledon. The pet on the stage was quite similar to Rheinhard. She might have once been a protection pet, as evidenced by her heavy scarring, but no longer. She was missing an eye and a hand, and limped. Her body was priced out, and with a sharp slash to the back of the neck, she slumped to the stage dead.

Chaceledon was watching the lineup. There she was. The little creature who had tried to grab him at the market, who had called him Asaya. Her gorget of purple scales was shining beautifully as ever, but her collar was missing and she was barely standing under the weight of the drugs given to her. He waited with bated breath, and the bidding war began. Her scales were what most people sought; a way to get dragon scales without killing a dragon.

“Whole and breathing!” Chaceledon called out. The butcher gave him a look, but said little when Chaceledon gave his price. It was far too much for meat. Chaceledon had bid fifty thousand, which was quite a bit even for a whole carcass, and the lesser nobles couldn’t compete.

“Sold then, alive and as is, to the dragon.” The butcher called, and without much preamble, shoved the girl forward and off the stage. Rheinhard caught her awkwardly so her head didn’t smash on the cobblestones.

Chaceledon patted her cheek. “Can you get her back to the house and meet us at the mezzanine? She needs to sleep that off. On her side so she doesn’t breathe in her own sick.” he looked at Rheinhard thankfully. His son nodded, hoisted the girl over his shoulder, and slid through the crowd.

Seteta
 
Seteta kept an iron grip on Chaceledon's arm as they made their way through the street, her other hand resting gently on the gargoyle's mane. She wished, though, that her scarf blocked the scent of blood. As the crowds parted before them--more than a few murmuring in scandalous awe of both Rheinhard in his mask, and the marble lion walking proudly at her side--Seteta began to put up her own facade, bracing herself for what she might see and experience.

In a sense, she was walking into battle. She'd seen death before. Had dealt death before. But she would never enjoy it.

She looked at the stage as little as possible, which wasn't terribly difficult with as close as they stood to it, and its height. Chaceledon was the one looking for specific people, so she stood behind him a bit, so his shoulders blocked most of her view, though she kept her fingers laced through his.

Chaceledon said:
“Persian drugs them. They feel nothing.” Rheinhard told Seteta, but it offered little comfort to Chaceledon.
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"How would he know?" Seteta murmured, her tone low and biting. "Has he tested it himself?"

She did her best to ignore the bidding, at times looking at the line of drugged slaves off to the side of the stage, and other times looking around the crowd. She continued to stroke the mane of the marble lion at her side. It sat beside her now, but from time to time she'd hear someone behind them hiss in pain as its tail whacked their ankles when they got too close.

When the pet they'd encountered in Maraan appeared, and breathed a sigh of relief when Chaceledon was able to buy her alive. As Rheinhard carried her away, Seteta's tightened her grip on Chaceledon briefly.

"Are there any others from your estate that you see?" she asked quietly.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon squeezed Seteta’s hand. He felt a little insecure without Rheinhard at his side. His son had clearly used this as an escape route, which the dragon understood. Crowds could be a bit much for the Volkers, and he would take good care of her. He glanced around the rest of the pets on offer. He didn’t see anyone. No one with the scales on his or her throat.

“No, I don’t. Keep your eye out…the dark purple scales she wore were my fathers. A lighter violet would be mine. Keep your eyes out.” Chaceledon said quietly.

“Chaceledon? Seteta?”

Chaceledon recognized the voice. He nodded curtly at Kennedi, releasing Seteta briefly to cross his arms over his chest. He cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

“The VIP bidding is starting. If you two will follow me, please? Don’t worry about missing anything; we usually suspend bidding on the lesser two for cleanliness.” Kennedi bowed slightly, and smiled at Seteta. “You two are with Persian, I believe you three have much to discuss.”

Chaceledon took a deep breath, and touched Seteta’s shoulder. She could bring the lion; there wasn’t a chance in hell he was being alone with Persian without some sort of protection.

The VIP lounge was much different than the crowd of people waving arms and shouting numbers on the Mezzanine and Dregs. The highest stage, the Alta, was surrounded by exquisitely soft chairs and chaise lounges. Tiny crystal fences and large screens made each bidder feel like they were the only one being presented with the pets…at least until someone else spoke. Persian’s box was higher and in the rear, accessed by a series of gold steps that seemed to be collapsible, and Chaceledon was briefly distracted by the mechanism. The box itself was a cage of bronze and glass, for a truly private feeling.

A couch on which Chaceledon and Seteta could both lounge was next to Persian’s surprisingly shabby leather chair. He hadn’t bothered to dress up for the occasion, wearing his usual long canvas coat, simple shirt and trousers, and leather boots. He’d bathed and shaved of course, but he wasn’t done up nearly to the extent the other two were.

“Ah, there you are.” Persian stood to greet them. “I was hoping you’d come.”

Seteta
 
"Would there be any of your own servants here after so long?" Seteta asked quietly, "if you weren't there to give them the scales?"

She reluctantly released Chaceledon's hand when Kennedi approached them. The gargoyle stood, tensing at her side, and Seteta scowled behind her veil as he said that they would be with Persian. Chaceledon touched her shoulder, and she sighed, but reached up to squeeze his hand again, then followed with him as Kennedi lead them through the crowds and to the lounge with the private boxes.

Seteta hesitated for a moment when they reached the delicate-looking golden staircase. She sent the marble lion up half a step ahead of her, half hoping that the contraption would collapse under its weight and save her the unpleasantness. But it did not.

She nodded her head gracefully as Persian stood to greet them, huffing a little at the sight of his clothes.

"I thought you said there was no dressing casual," Seteta pouted as she pinched Chaceledon's arm teasingly.

Her left hand still rested on the lion's head, the stone beast patiently waiting beside her for whatever direction she gave next, but she didn't deliberately draw any attention to the engagement ring on her hand. She couldn't care less if Persian gave them congratulations.

Whenever they were seated, the lion would curl up at Seteta's feet.

Chaceledon
 
“My city.” Persian pointed out teasingly, and sat down again. “I wanted to thank you for taking me home. I had things to attend to here; I should have come by sooner.”

Chaceledon folded himself onto the couch and patted the lion’s head. Persian spotted the ring shining on her finger and smiled.
“Congratulations to the two of you.” He told her warmly. “I’ll have an engagement gift sent over.”

“Mind explaining to me why a draconian pet was in the Dregs?” Chaceledon asked pointedly.

“Ah. The one you bought. Yes. Special request, that one. Before you ask, I can’t say who. You should know I prize my clients just as much as you do yours. Someone must have snatched her up in Maraan.” Persian said with a shrug. “I take it you are heading home then? Shall I place a steward in charge of the Lion House?” He raised a questioning eyebrow and looked to Seteta. Obviously she’d be the driving force behind that decision, being Inizae.

The Auction began. People were reclined in their little gilded cells, watching a painfully old pet in a jade collar hobble up the stairs carrying a book nearly his own size. He hefted it onto a podium with a pained grunt. Persian winced. “Kennedi…”

“Amphetrion insisted.” Kennedi shrugged.

“Poor old fool’s going to kill himself. I wish he’d pick an apprentice.” Persian grumbled.

The wizened old elf rubbed at his glasses and twitched an ear. He squinted at the page numbers, a shaking hand flicking through them. Ah there. The registry for the day. “Ah. Em. Good evening ladies and eh, gentlemen. Today marks the fifteen hundredth auction…or is it fifteen twenty? No matter. I hope you’ll be pleased with today’s selection, as we are releasing a limited number of Inizae for your pleasure.” Amphetrion said, taking a sip from a glass of water that shook so badly a few of the pets stepped forward to see if he needed relief before he spilled it.

“Right. Our first lot is a young glassblower. Dreylene has grown to be a favorite among you for her distinct champagne flutes and distinct two-chambered brandy tumblers. She is a fine artisan and would make a healthy addition to any noble house. Here she is, demonstrating a few of her glass blowing techniques.” Amphetrion stepped aside, and a young woman stepped onto the stage.

She wore a leather apron, sensible leather boots, a linen shirt pushed up at the sleeves, and smoked lenses to protect her eyes. A small forge was set up for her, and she blew a glass through a long copper rod. Chaceledon watched in approval. It was a simple whiskey tumbler, but she handled the glass at the end of the rod with an expert’s eye.

Seteta
 
Seteta scowled, but all Persian would see was her eyes narrowing. She disliked people who demanded one thing of their guests, but held themselves to a different standard. She murmured a quiet 'thank you' at his congratulations, though, and settled herself next to Chaceledon on the couch.

She kept her hands busy petting the lion as Chaceledon questioned Persian about the draconian pet. When Persian asked about a steward for the Lion House, she shrugged, glancing over at Chaceledon. "Neither Rheinhard nor I will ever be comfortable living there," she answered, though left unspoken was also that she would never be comfortable living in Pedeo, period. "Also... can it really be called the Lion House if I decide to take the lions with me?" She couldn't deny that she was growing rather fond of the stone creatures.

Speaking of Rheinhard... she thought, realizing that Chaceledon had told him to rejoin them at the Mezzanine, she took a moment to reach for his mind. We're in Persian's private box, she told him. Whenever you come looking for us.

As the Auction began, Seteta fell silent, watching the stage closely. Her gaze was fixed on the ancient elf.

She'd never seen an elf so old--Abtati or otherwise--that they had deep wrinkles, sagging ears, and trembling hands. She heard Kennedi say his name, but it didn't seem familiar to her. She kept her eyes on him as he stepped aside on the stage, barely glancing at Dreylene as she came forward with her glass blowing.

How? she wondered. How is he that old? I don't think any elves live to be that old, let alone Abtati.

Chaceledon
 
The girl needs tending to. I’ll stay here. She cannot awaken in a house she doesn’t know. Rheinhard told her gently. Should you need me I am here.

Persian followed her eyes. “Well I suppose I can have new gargoyles carved, if you’ve grown so attached. I was surprised to see one so far from the house.” He said lightly. He nodded toward the stage. “Amphetrion has been with me for many, many years. It’s hard to remember a time I had this place without him. The first Inizae to step foot in Pedeo.”

“How is that possible? That makes him older than I am…” Chaceledon blinked in surprise, glancing at the old elf smiling tolerantly at the glass blower. The dragon didn’t bid on her, but he was frowning at Amphetrion. “…The first Inizae?”

“See the scars around his wrists? In those days I was using copper wire in traps. Thankfully he wasn’t there long. He was able to push the earth up around his feet to relieve the pressure. Clever man. He’s been the Scion of my Library ever since. A sweet old thing.” Persian said fondly. He looked to Seteta. “Would you like to meet him after all is said and done?”

Seteta
 
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