Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"Humans have not been kind to the Abtati or the Inizae either," Seteta sighed. "But we have still brought some individuals into the tribe occasionally. They are not all wicked."

She frowned when Harrier seemed uncertain if she meant a son or a servant. She compared the words quickly in her thoughts, but she was certain that she'd used the correct one.

"He is... not a servant," Seteta murmured. "And punishment is one thing, if someone has actually done something wrong. This was... Chaceledon lashing out in anger simply because he was afraid. I don't care if there's less rules when it comes to humans. There are certain lines that should not be crossed when you've brought someone under your care."

Harrier was clearly growing weary, though, and when the conversation shifted back to the Nameday and Dahn Hedoni, Seteta nodded.

"That would have been our first stop when we returned if Peridot hadn't promised our attendance here," she told Harrier as he began to settle into the warm sand. "Sleep well, amit."

Beloved of Abtatu. She couldn't help but smile softly at the endearment as she left the room quietly and retraced their steps to the dining hall. A servant waited there to lead her to Chaceledon's room.

When she stepped into the room, she chuckled softly at the sight of Chaceledon in the furry robe, and dismissed the servant with a wave of her hand.

With a sigh, she went and crawled into Chaceledon's lap, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Harrier's asleep in the sand bath," she said. "Will he be okay there?"
 
Peridot does have the unusual talent of sensing when people have plans. Harrier agreed, and rested. He would have happily taken Cassius’ room, but in his old age he was content to sleep how dragons were meant to sleep: in casques of boiling hot sand. They had slept this way in the desert many years ago. He said a small prayer for Seteta’s luck…hopefully she would find peace with her mate.

Chaceledon eagerly welcomed Seteta into his arms. He kissed her, but the idea of their elder falling asleep in the bath made him cock an eyebrow. “He’s asleep in the hotbed? I don’t really see it hurting him, but that’s not where he’s supposed to be sleeping. I hope Cassius didn’t have any plans to have a relaxing sand roll before bed.” he chuckled and flopped back into the pillows. Their bed was piled high with them; he’d gone for more of a rustic look. Embroidered linen pillows with desert scenes and plants, lightly colored cloth to compliment the granite, and restrained accents in gold.

He stroked his fingers through her hair. “There’s a bath waiting for you if you want it. I had to burn those damn robes I was wearing…nothing stains like chocolate. Pity. I’ll fish something out of the closet here. Are you going to be alright visiting Dahn Hedoni tomorrow? I promise…no parties, just a social call.”

Chaceledon wondered what she had spoken to Harrier about. The old dahnesh had been worshipping Abtatu since Chaceledon was a child. He had to admit; he felt guilty about pranking the old man’s shrines when they used to visit Dahn Agrys as a child. Especially now that he had met Abtatu.
 
"I think Cassius can give up a sand bath for a night when it's his fault his guest got dangerously chilled," Seteta said, then gave a yelp of laughter as Chaceledon flopped them both backwards.

She hummed contentedly as he played with her hair.

"If you hadn't gotten your foot stabbed, I'd pull you in there with me," she pouted lightly when he mentioned the bath. "But you really shouldn't soak it until it's healed."

She kissed him once more, careful of her fresh lip piercing, then sat up and stretched.

"I'll be fine," she said. "We need to ger Dahn Hedoni's help soon. Harrier said the dahna worships Abtatu also."
 
“Not to Harrier. If he’s lucky all we’re going to get is rumors Harrier is trying to pawn his fat granddaughter off on Cassius, and if he’s unlucky there will be a scandal.” Chaceledon smirked and looked down at her. Gods, he adored her. He nestled back in bed and closed his eyes, lazily awaiting her return from a bath. He wanted to curl around her and kiss her sweetly before he fell asleep.

He woke late in the morning. Cassius had a spread of fruit, coffee, tea, eggs and toast for them. Chaceledon looked balefully at the toast and nibbled on a grape. Since when did Cassius start eating bread? He did take a bowl of the fruit and some of the eggs. It was a small meal, but by no means unhealthy. He was trying to do better.

When they finally wandered downstairs, the hall that had been a party floor less than twenty four hours ago was filled with leather mats, weaponry, and heavy boulders. Chaceledon folded his arms. Cassius was stripped down to the waist, practicing fencing drills. He had clearly been at it a while, with a fine sheen of sweat over his skin.

“Ah! Good morning! Do you fence, Seteta?” Cassius walked over to a fencing rack and tossed a blade toward Chaceledon. He snatched it out of the air.

“In your foyer?”

“Where else?”
 
"There is not a single one of you dragons that qualifies as fat in any way, shape or form," Seteta scowled, poking Chaceledon lightly in the ribs before she stood and headed toward the bathroom, twisting her hair into a knot on the top of her head. She really didn't want to bother with washing it.

When she came back to bed a short while later, Chaceledon was relaxed and she crawled into the sheets and pressed kisses to his throat while she snuggled up beside him.

It was a relief in the morning when he ate breakfast without her having to press him to do so. He passed on the toast, but she helped herself too it, spreading a generous amount of butter across the surface. A leisurely morning spent with him was just what she needed.

After raiding the closet for something... less delicate than the silk dress she'd worn to the party--though she had to hike up the hem of all of Chaceledon's garments to not fall flat on her face as she walked--she was glad to wander downstairs with him.

She couldn't help but give Cassius an appreciative glance. She may be engaged to his brother, but she wasn't blind either.

"I do not fence," she answered, arching a brow as Chaceledon caught the blade from the air. "I have some skill with a knife, though.

"However," she gestured at her overly long garments, "I think I will be sitting out any sparring for the time being. Has anyone checked on Harrier this morning?"
 
“We’re going to have to fix that.” Cassius chuckled, and easily slid into a stance. Like Chaceledon, he was left handed. Chaceledon rolled his eyes and set the blade on a nearby buffet table. They needed to be preparing to leave, not getting sucked into his brother’s exercise routine so soon after breakfast. He looked at Seteta’s outfit; he needed to pin that up so she didn’t hurt herself or have to keep holding her clothing.

“Cassius, would you mind if I sent a selection of her things here for when we visit? Just a few outfits to keep in my rooms here.” Chaceledon pulled one of the brass pins from his hair and neatly rolled up the robe just above her tailbone, making a bustle he could hide with some cleverly folded fabric. The ends he folded over the roll and pinned, pulling the fabric up to the tops of her feet while making the adjustment look natural. It would sit at the natural curve at the base of her spine. He added another two pins for decoration and further hid the alteration.

Cassius shook his head. “I instructed the servants not to bother him until he woke.” he mentioned, straightening and sheathing his weapon.

“He’s quite old. You should at least have breakfast and an outfit sent in.” Chaceledon chided. “Give him my summer outfit. We’re about the same size and it’ll be light.”

“Good gods you two are bossy. This is my house isn’t it?”

Cassius smirked at them, but pulled his robe sleeves back over his shoulders, and whistled for a servant. “Check in on the old one in my hotbed and give him the green silk from Chaceledon’s chambers. Hot tea and some fruit, and send my breakfast down to the gardens.” he ordered. The servant bowed, and scurried away. “See? All taken care of. The old man’s fine. Even his own Dahn doesn’t care about anything but the day he sleeps and they can fight over his seat.”
 
Seteta scowled at Cassius while Chaceledon shortened her skirts, and when he was behind her, she mouthed at his brother I dare you to say that in front of Baylock. She didn't have much experience with trolls, but from the little time they'd spent with Marahute, she suspected that like her own people, respecting and honoring their elders was a vital part of their culture.

Aloud, though, she said, "Someone should care, especially his dahn. You dragons are so hypocritical, fussing over appearances and looking and acting perfectly but shoving your elders aside at the first inconvenience."

Then she frowned down at the sleeves she'd turned the cuffs up on and shook them loose.

"Can you do something about these too?" she asked Chaceledon, holding her arms out and wiggling them, the sleeves falling several inches past the ends of her fingers.
 
To Face the Past
  • Index
    • Cassius shot her a look. The last thing he needed was Chaceledon lip reading that! Thankfully his brother was swiftly drawn toward the sleeve problem. Chaceledon neatly pinched the fabric and folded it back along her forearms, reinforcing the flap with firm, reinforcing folds tucked into themselves. He fished around for a pin, and pulled out two keeping his hair behind his ears.

    “Hey. I let him sleep here didn’t I? Dragons get shoved away as they get older. Hokkaido’s going to start experiencing that soon, probably as soon as I’m married.” Cassius shrugged.

    “It just ensures the new dahna and dahnesh take over the Dahn without any problems. The elders step back, the younger step in.” Chaceledon pointed out, and adjusted the way the cloth sat on her chest and hips. “There. It’s not perfect and you’ve robbed me of my good hairpins, but it should hold. Hedoni will likely have you change into something anyway.” He tutted and fussed at her, picking at her clothing.

    “Good morning.” Harrier stepped in, cradling a cup of tea. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night before, but looked slightly better for wear. “Thank you for your hospitality, Cassius, but I really should be getting home.” He smiled and inclined his head toward Seteta. He would see her again when it came time for the Nameday celebration. It wasn’t far away now.

    “Are you alright to fly?” Chaceledon finished messing with his fiancé’s hair, and took in Harrier’s disheveled appearance. He could never. The man hadn’t even brushed out his hair! Really, if Chaceledon caught himself aging like that he’d want Seteta to smother him in his own hotbed.

    “I’ll be fine. I got here.” Harrier drained his teacup and set it aside, patting Seteta’s shoulder. “I’ll expect great things from you, Seteta of the Inizae.”

    ______________________

    By mid morning, they were flying again. Chaceledon felt better, and the hot winds drowning the mountain lifted him and Seteta high above the earth. Higher than she had ever been, where the air was thin and as crystal blue as a Volker’s eyes. It was silent here, above birds, above clouds and sand.

    Chaceledon embraced the thermals, cushioning himself on them as they flew.     I’m sorry, about last night…starting a fight with Mother, I mean. I embarrassed you on your first time out among dragons publicly. I owe you an apology for that. I should have kept my composure better. He fell silent. He’d lost his temper with Rheinhard. Now with his mother. Have you checked the Well..? Is Rheinhard alright? he asked hesitantly. He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been worried.

    Rheinhard would be alright, surely. He’d been battered about by worse and knew how to care for himself. He had a decent amount of remnants awake, and Nestor’s pharmaceutical knowledge was second to none. Even fae were jealous.
     
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  • Index
    • "There's a difference between stepping aside," Seteta retorted, "and being..." she paused for a moment, unsure of the Draconian word, and switched to Abtat. "Ostracized."

    Then she giggled, swaying for a moment and holding out her hands to check the modified sleeves. "Your hairpins have been nobly sacrificed, sehejib, and I will not forget it. Sit down and I'll braid your hair."

    She breathed a sigh of relief when Harrier stepped into the hall, and batted Chaceledon's hands away from her own hair. It was fine. She would just tie it back and cover it with a scarf when they were ready to leave.

    When Harrier patted her shoulder, she smiled gently. "Yes, amit. I will try to do your dahn honor," she told him, before switching back to Abtat for a moment. "Go in peace."

    She would have liked to go visit with Baylock a little more, but didn't think she could slip away for an hour without Chaceledon noticing and get curious.


    Seteta settled into a comfortable seat on Chaceledon's head, tucking her feet and hands into his mane to keep them warm. She'd remembered to get her coat before they left, and while the air wasn't frigid, she was grateful for the extra insulation. It seemed a little more difficult to breathe, though, and her head was aching slightly.

    "You hardly embarrassed me, sehejib," she said. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself."

    She sighed and frowned a little when he asked about Rheinhard, and the Well. With everything that had gone on the night before, she'd felt too antsy to go into it.

    "I let them know when we arrived at your estate," she answered. "Rheinhard was resting then, but seemed to be fine, other than being in some pain. I..." she hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the ground so very, very far below them, her stomach a little queasy at the thought of slipping off Chaceledon. "... I can go check on him, but I don't want to stay in too long."

    She was sure Chaceledon would try his best to catch her if she fell, but there was no guarantee he would. Not even her own magic would protect her from something like that, because she had to be touching the earth to control it.

    Seteta shivered.
     
    Chaceledon caught the hesitation. She didn’t trust him to catch her?! He raised an eyebrow, pulling himself free from the warm air currents to dip down a few hundred feet. Gradually, of course, he didn’t want to scare her. He truly had shattered her trust if she was nervous to sleep on his back as they flew. You know I would never let you fall. he said softly.

    He tried to tell himself it was instinct. Earthbound creatures like his fiancé didn’t like being in the air. It usually meant death was imminent, and not all the love in the world could fight that. Even Rheinhard hated being on his back. He had an idea.     Koiros, I can carry you in my mouth? There is absolutely no chance I’ll drop you there. He lowered their altitude a bit further. Come to think of it, it might be a bit high for creatures not used to the air that high up.

    Just grab my whiskers, and I can tilt myself to catch you.
     
    "There are many things people would never let happen," Seteta laughed weakly, but her fists unclenched a little as Chaceledon slowly descended, "and yet they still do."

    The air was easier to breathe as they moved lower, and she took a deep breath, glad to fill her lungs. When Chaceledon suggested that she ride in his mouth, she nodded for a moment before remembering that he couldn't see her.

    "That might be best," she answered, and began to slowly crawl down his face and over his muzzle. "It won't hurt you, will it?" she asked, reaching for his whiskers.

    Seteta cringed a little, but held on tightly, as she slipped down his muzzle and he caught her in his mouth. Perhaps it was... strange to be more comfortable in a dragon's mouth than on his back, but it was comforting to have his teeth caging her in.

    "I'll let you know how Rheinhard is soon," she called out to him, then settled as comfortably as she could and closed her eyes.
     
    Rheinhard felt her in his head. Even if he was awake and not in the Well, he could feel her like a threadworm in his skull. He cracked open an eye for a moment, and cuddled up closer to Aetes. He hadn’t wanted to leave the man’s bed for a while, even if his ribs were much better already. He burrowed under the priest’s shoulder, huffing air like a hound to distract himself. But Seteta was calling.

    He closed his eyes again and fell into the Well. Nestor, surprisingly, was the first to come out to greet her. Aron warmly, with a hug. Rheinhard wasn’t quite ready to hug her, but he came up and touched noses anyway. “It is good to see you. How are you among the dragons?”

    ______________________

    Chaceledon slowly tilted his head as she grasped his whiskers. It hurt, much as pulling hair hurt, but he safely herded her onto his tongue. His curved teeth, white and perfectly clean, created a safe cage around her, and the wind whistling through his teeth spared her his breath…much as he’d like to imagine his breath smelled nice. He carefully arranged her on his tongue to cushion her, and flew toward where he remembered Dahn Hedoni’s estate to be.

    They were much like Dahn Abalone in that they preferred estates near the sea. However, unlike Seaworth which was perched precariously on the rocks as though acting as a springboard, Illicam possessed a wide stretch of beach perfect for sunbathing. The sand was white and warm, and arduously cleaned with rakes by a small army of servants.

    It was made of white marble, and terraced neatly with gardens. Like the beach, it was infested with servants artfully denying the scorching sun. Plant life was plentiful here, and Chaceledon landed in a wide grass lawn on the main terrace. It had a semicircle of quartz slabs that soaked up the heat of midday, and Chaceledon set Seteta near one.
     
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    Seteta smiled at Nestor, and returned Aron's hug, and didn't bother to hide her delighted surprise when Rheinhard appeared and greeted her more warmly than he ever had before. She gently nuzzled her nose against his.

    "We're doing fine," she answered Rheinhard, "but I do have some things to tell you, and Nestor. Are Gere and Jess doing all right so far?" She craned her neck around to see if they were anywhere within sight. "And how are you doing? No infections, and not too much pain?"

    She led Aron, Nestor, and Rheinhard into the sunroom where she'd had her very first meeting with the Volkers, those many months ago now. When they were all seated and comfortable, she began told them about what happened at Cassius' estate--meeting Harrier, what little she knew about Hyssop's interactions with Chaceledon, about Peridot's displeasure, and Chaceledon actually eating.

    Even relaying it, she realized how much she didn't know about what happened when Chaceledon was off on his own, though.

    "We're on our way to meet with Dahn Hedoni right now," she finished several minutes later. "Harrier said that the dahna worships Abtatu as well, so hopefully that will help with introductions."
     
    Rheinhard glanced to the Arena. He could faintly hear low booms and shouting.

    “Gere was messing with Klaus and Jason took offense.” Nestor said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s been loud without you here. And I have to deal with his dalliances on top of it. Putting sex before recovery.” He shot a look at Rheinhard, who colored and looked at his feet.

    “Can’t hardly blame him.” Aron shrugged. “Though I really, really wish there was a way to turn sound off in here.”

    They were happy to curl up in the sunroom, and listened to Seteta’s tale. Aron chuckled when she regaled them how Chaceledon had openly eaten food. Nestor raised an eyebrow.
    “He ate what?”

    “Chocolate, it’s a paste made from the cocao plant and mixed with milk and sugar.” Rheinhard said quietly. “Sunlanders use it.”

    “I know what chocolate is you sex-fueled nincompoop. I was wondering how they got it. This Harrier must have connections to the southeast.” Nestor grouched. “As for this dahna worshipping Abtatu, that doesn’t mean she’s an ally. You be careful. Don’t rely on that alone.”
     
    Seteta sighed. "If it gets to be too disruptive, let me know," she told Rheinhard. "I'll put them back to sleep for a while. Your recovery is the most important thing right now."

    She giggled a little as Rheinhard explained chocolate to Nestor, and Nestor's reaction.

    "Not necessarily an ally," she agreed with Nestor, "but it is at least a starting point. Common ground. That's how alliances are born. Was there anything in the temple you found thay might help? Any old histories I could reference?"
     
    Nestor frowned and cast his hand upward. He had a shard in mind. He threw it toward the window, and the scene outside transformed. Rheinhard helpfully got up to open the large bay window, and they could see Nestor’s vision.

    A letter written in Abtati swam into the vision. “This was written by Saltarello, founder of Dahn Hedoni. He talks about a celebration between Abtati and Hedoni…so rowdy he had to replace several windows and one bed that was flung out of a window. Apparently your people also made a mess out of his hotbed, which made me think your people not only lived amongst dragons but had dragons protecting them.” Nestor explained, and sighed when he watched himself touch the dragon scale.

    He pursed his lips when he saw the orange and pink dragon appear. A long, elegant creature of health and beauty, joyfully leaping around before the scale vanished to dust.

    “Saltarello.” Rheinhard frowned. “A beautiful dragon. He had foreigners in his home. He let them destroy his home. Have you ever seen a dragon not care about his home?”

    “If someone made a mess of Chaceledon’s hotbed and threw a bed out the window he would have them all strung up in the yard like sausages.” Aron said grimly. “Perhaps this is something.”

    ________________________

    Chaceledon settled on his belly with Seteta. She was firmly nestled in the crux of his crossed wrists, so she didn’t fall over while she was in the Well. He patiently waited for her to wake, fussing a bit with her clothes and hair so she didn’t look…well, like she’d just been spat out by a dragon.

    Behind him, the waves roared on the beach. Servants were setting out long lounges so the masters of the house could lay in the sun but not on the sand directly. Beyond the large glass-paned doors, Chaceledon could hear music. It thrummed through the ground and the quartz tile. The Dahn was old and powerful, and by the feel of it, so were their children. Chaceledon smiled; the infamous entertainment Dahn hadn’t lost its touch.

    “Oh no. Dead broad off the landing!” A voice barked.

    Chaceledon looked around for a servant, then tilted his snout down. A scruffy creature was staring at him. He looked a bit like someone had drug him out of a garbage bin, with wild black hair stuck up at odd angles and dirt smudged around his cheeks. His nails were cracked and dirty, and he had kohl haphazardly smudged around his bright green eyes.

    “Ey. Dead bitch off the landing.” The man repeated, and held a club aloft. It was studded in steel caps, and the haft was dark…by design or filth Chaceledon wasn’t sure.

    Excuse me? She’s not dead! Who, or may I ask what, are you? Chaceledon lifted his lips in a snarl.

    “Me? I didn’t want a bath. I escaped.” The man sniffed. “You’re the one bringing corpses up here. Even if it is a hot corpse.”

    Chaceledon’s lip curled.     Call her a corpse one more time.

    “Ruben! Ruben where are you?!” Loud giggles erupted from in the house. A pair of teenagers burst out of the doors, both dressed in bright orange clothing. They wore loose white linen shirts, with embroidered harem pants and vests. Their long hair was pulled back into bushels of wild blonde hair, going orange at the roots as they matured. The boys were identical in age…in a lot of things. Chaceledon stared. For two hatchlings to come out of the same egg wasn’t just unheard of, it was practically myth.

    The scruffy man swore and ducked behind Chaceledon. Chaceledon’s skin crawled just having something that dirty near him.

    “Have you seen our pet?” One of the young teenagers asked Chaceledon. “He needs a bath. We found him in the yard drinking out of our water fountains! Don’t tell Amut, she’ll throw him out.”

    “You’ll never take me alive!” Shouted Ruben from somewhere behind Chaceledon’s elbow fur.

    “It’s just a bath! Amut , mit and miv will never let you in the house!” The other twin ducked behind Chaceledon’s elbow and seized Ruben.

    “It’s my protective fucking layer!”
     
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    Seteta squinted at the memory. The Abtat script was... familiar, but far more ancient than anything she knew how to read, and she was only able to pick out a few words here and there.

    It was so long ago that it had to have been before her people ruled the sands. Perhaps even before they'd built cities at all.

    "Can you make sure my mother knows to bring that letter in a few weeks?" she asked Rheinhard.

    Then she sighed. "I should get back. I don't know how far out from Dahn Hedoni's estate we were. Nestor, I'll be here for my lesson tonight, I promise."

    She looked around at the men fondly. "But if you need me, please don't hesitate. Especially you, Rheinhard. You need to be able to heal peacefully."

    Then she pulled herself out of the Well, and yawned widely as she woke. She squinted against the bright sunlight, and tucked her face into Chaceledon's forelimbs for a moment. Was that... Abtat she was hearing?

    "Where are we?"     she mumbled, looking back up and blinking as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light. "I thought we were heading to Dahn Hedoni."
     
    Rheinhard nodded. “I hope you do well with the Dahn. I wish we knew more about how to help you.” He rose and briefly touched his forehead to hers. Aron gave her a much more enthusiastic embrace, and Nestor patted her shoulder.

    “He doesn’t know a thing about archival paper. I’ll be sure to educate him.” Nestor sniffed. “And you’d better be in here tonight for that lesson young lady, regardless of any fornication you hear out there in the Well. I want to go over some formal grammar.”

    “Who’s the master of who in here?” Aron chuckled.

    “In here? I’m god.” Nestor growled archly.

    ___________________

    The twins finally seemed to take notice of Seteta while Chaceledon sputtered to get his composure long enough for a formal greeting. One of them dragged Ruben across the landing, bear hugged like a disobedient family cat. The other knelt in front of Seteta.

    “I’m Fossa, that’s Ataire. You reached Dahn Hedoni just fine.” he smiled. He looked to be about the age of a thirteen year old child, but had already hit six feet.

    “C’mon! If Amut sees him we’re going to be doing harp for a month!” Ataire hissed at him, struggling to keep Ruben under control while the man ruined his outfit. Fossa waved at Seteta, and helpfully grabbed Ruben’s ankles. The pair rushed off with the indignantly roaring human without a second look, and Chaceledon scowled.

    Of all the rude, mismanaged brats..! he huffed. He’d never been quite so rudely treated. No formal greeting! Someone needed to tan some hatchling hides. He gently nuzzled Seteta until she could stand, and shifted back. He fixed his hair as best he could, and produced a small pot of kohl from somewhere in his clothing to fix the makeup around his eyes.

    The woman who swept out of the house’s doors stopped Chaceledon’s indignance in its tracks. She was an older creature, at least as old as Harrier if not older by the crinkles around her eyes. Her eyes, burning a bright and ferocious orange, said she was very much still young at heart. She was monstrously thin, but in the way that whips were thin; every inch of her looked as though it could lash. What stopped Chaceledon was her clothing. Not only was the dark eye makeup around her eyes the most perfect brushwork he’d seen in years, but her dress was distinctly Abtati.

    It was designed for function, directing the hot winds around her body. The fabric was loose but draped so that it didn’t drown her figure, and she wore a headscarf that was pulled down around her neck and shoulders so she could speak with them properly.

    “Chaceledon and Seteta of Dahn Peridot. It is good to finally meet. I am Seikilos, dahna of Dahn Hedoni. I apologize for the wait; we are in rehearsal. Harrier sent communication but we were not quite sure when to expect you.”
     
    "Thank you, Fossa." Seteta smiled, then laughed softly as the... twins? Dragon twins? carted off... someone.

    "They speak Abtat," she murmured as Chaceledon nuzzled at her as she stretched, rolling her shoulders and neck. She kissed the top of his nose before she stood and looked around, stripping her coat off and unwrapping the scarf around her hair.

    Chaceledon had just finished tidying his appearance when the dahna stepped out of the doors and introduced herself.

    "Thank you for your hospitality, amut," Seteta said, bowing her head. "Please do not let us interrupt. Might I be able to watch the rehearsal?"
     
    “They do. Maybe you were right about some vestiges of the dragons still having a connection to Abtatu.” Chaceledon said quietly, though he bowed deeply when Seikilos made her appearance. He cleared his throat and gently butted Seteta with an elbow; she needed some respect. She might have gotten away with a bow to the head to Harrier, who was known for his lackadaisical treatment of dragon tradition. Seikilos, however, fixed her with a critical eye.

    “I suppose you may. My Dahn isn’t like others, but I do still ask that you respect your place. Until you are Dahna of your own house, you give me more than just an incline of your pretty little head.” Seikilos reprimanded her. Chaceledon cringed inwardly; not a good start. “Still I have to admit I was curious about the first Abtati to be seen wandering about dragon society. My husband loved your people deeply, piteous old fool though he was.” The last part wasn’t said in malice, but rather some fondness that told Chaceledon she was recalling the late dahnesh with love.

    “Come with me.” She gestured impatiently, and turned to throw open the glass paned doors.

    Inside, even Chaceledon held back a gasp. Her home was a geode. Some deep primordial bubble brought to the surface by raw magic itself, and likely the work of the dahna and dahnesh’s powers when they were young. Perhaps even the help of the Abtati. The geode was smoothed down in places, to maintain a walkable floor and ensure the servants didn’t hang themselves at the amount of dusting, but the ceiling was intact. Chaceledon cast his eyes up at the amethysts. Old magic throbbed there. Very old magic. Magic from when Arethil’s crust first cooled; it was like having some great ancestor look down on you.

    Chaceledon swallowed, and made sure he didn’t tarry too long behind Seikilos. Something told him she appreciated keeping to a schedule.

    The hall she led them into was outside of the geode, and likely added on later. Subsequent generations added to the main complex of the home before they were either gifted estates or moved on to found their own dahns. Here, in a large ballroom, music reigned.

    “My son Proscen, and his sister Arras, and their twin boys Fossa and Ataire. Resume.” Her voice rang out.

    The twins waved sheepishly at Chaceledon and Seteta; they still had soiled clothing and looked a bit out of sorts. Chaceledon recognized the twin welts across their cheeks; they’d already been reprimanded for their clothing. Fossa sported a small black eye, suggesting he’d been one to return the slap with a smart mouth.

    Proscen eyed the twins disdainfully. He was settled on the floor, an assortment of crystal rods before him. He brushed back long orange hair Chaceledon was beginning to recognize as a strong family trait, and settled his fingers on the rods.

    It began with deep thrumming, so low as to barely be noticeable but rattling Chaceledon’s rib cage. The twins came in next, touching the floor and bringing in light, tinny tones Chaceledon thought suited the mischievous little fellows.

    Arras joined simply by standing, and commanded the most of the melody. It crackled and zinged along the ceiling and skeleton of the ballroom as though tapping on bones. She changed tone simply, by sweeping her feet across in front of her or changing step delicately. There were times when the family worked together to bring the music drawing up and down, other times where the twins would bow out entirely in deference to their father or aunt.

    Chaceledon smiled, a bit sadly. Nica had a gift for this type of music. The tones of water and earth were very different, but they had always made decent music together. Nothing like this; this was composition on the fly. This was raw talent instilled from the egg and practiced until their ears rang.
     
    "Forgive me," Seteta said at Seikilos' scolding, bowing deeper. "I'm still learning."

    It was clear that Seikilos still dearly loved her late husband, though, and as Seteta rose back to her full height--but still so short, compared to all the dragons--she spoke quietly. "May Abtatu hold his soul until you are reunited."

    She followed behind Seikilos and Chaceledon, but nothing could have prepared her for the interior of the house.

    Her feet were still bare, since she'd not worn shoes to Cassius' party and there was no way any of Chaceledon's footwear could have been altered to fit her, and as soon as she stepped onto the polished stone, magic coursed through her, without any effort or reaching out on her part.

    Old, old magic. Older than the sands. Than the dragons and the Inizae.

    Possibly as ancient as Abtatu.

    It was like when she'd reached into Witherhold, and the home had answered back, but... more. Stronger and more vibrant.

    If it could talk, Seteta would have sworn the stone was welcoming her. As if it had been waiting for her.

    She let the stone's magic play through her for another moment, then forced herself back to the present. Seikilos and Chaceledon were just vanishing through the next doorway, and she hiked her skirts to catch up.

    She couldn't help but gawk at the ballroom as well, but smiled at the others as they were introduced, though she quirked her head a little at the fact that it was a son, his sister, and their twins. Perhaps she'd heard incorrectly. She was still learning Draconian, after all.

    Seteta stayed next to Chaceledon as the rehearsal resumed, though she was quickly immersed in fascination as she listened and watched. It was complex, but the way they all worked and played together was reminiscent of how the Inizae would compose as well.

    "It's incredible," she whispered to Chaceledon. "I can see why your father is trying to embarrass me now."
     
    “This is why we came here. So you won’t be embarrassed when it’s your turn to compose.” he whispered, and kissed her cheek. Gods, he hoped this would work. He needed this to work. He would marry her regardless and have the blessings of the Inizae, the spat with Rheinhard aside, but he didn’t want to lose his family. They would treat him as though he’d never returned. His name would be forgotten. He would never see his brother again. There were consequences, but part of him wondered if his father wasn’t just trying to make sure he was firmly under heel before bringing him back to the fold.

    He breathed in deeply, letting the magic course through his bones. He could feel them weaving it, the tiny threads of magic gathering and tangling. He hadn’t missed the way Seteta had stopped to admire the geode. It spoke to her, with an old voice even he would never understand fully.

    He smiled and leaned his head back into the music. It was a beautiful song and the family worked together well.

    “THE FUCKING RACKET.”

    He nearly jumped out of his skin as the ragged creature from before slammed open the doors so hard he had to check to see if they were intact. Thankfully, the smell didn’t precede the stranger. He was clean, at least, wearing robes three times too big for him and…meant for a woman. The human rubbed at his green eyes and waved an arm at the musicians.

    “You orange haired lizards are the loudest fucking lot. It’s not enough that your dining room table is set for the entire fucking family tree, and your goddamn living room gives me a headache, you’ve got to make noise.”

    The music stopped dead, and the twins went pale. Ruben made an over exaggerated bow at the waist, flinging his arms wide. It just made him look more ridiculous, as the sleeves flopped over his hands. Even worse, Chaceledon realized he’d just taken the outermost layer, and was stark naked underneath.

    “Now I am trying. Trying, mind, to give Mr. Mango a fucking bath. Because you two forgot your other guest. You fucking brats.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Fosse and Ataire, who looked like they wanted to become one with the subfloor.

    Chaceledon was frozen. Surely in a few seconds the entire area would be bathed in fire. Instead, they all stared at the human as if waiting for the conclusion of a play.
     
    "Unless Hokkaido has just decided to deny me, no matter how well I do, simply because it's not draconic enough," she sighed, leaning into Chaceledon's side.

    They both got caught up in the music again for a bit... at least until someone was shouting, and Chaceledon flinched. She craned her head around to see past Chaceledon, a very unimpressed brow raised.

    "Even I am not that stupid," she whispered. "Is he trying to get himself killed?"
     
    “That would be a violation of his agreement. Even a dragon can’t go back on his word like that.” Chaceledon whispered back, and kissed the top of her head lightly. Even if Hokkaido wanted to wriggle out of the agreement, he couldn’t. Peridot would hold him to it on honor alone, and if not Peridot, Dahn Agrys would back up her claim. It was likely that if they made decent headway here that Dahn Hedoni would join Agrys in her claim, and Hokkaido had no want to cheat himself out of musicians or a decent plate.

    Gods, he hoped the cleverness would be enough.

    He held his breath, his fingers tightening around Seteta as Ruben ranted. No human could dare..! No human should dare…!

    “Killed? Hokkaido would have made him Furniture as soon as he opened his mouth.” Chaceledon whispered tremulously.

    Seikilos eyed him, and drew herself up to her full height. Without a word she marched up to the puffing human and seized him by the scalp. Ruben twisted around like a polecat, trying to bite her, and she lifted him off the ground by his hair. “Now I know why my sweet babits were late to practice and dirty. Vermin.”

    She seized his chin, and began twisting. Fosse stood up and was sharply yanked to the floor again by Ataire. Then, a snap, loud and sizzling like when one touched metal after shuffling on carpet. Seikilos’ hands were clenched on empty air. She clenched her jaw. “Fae vermin. If he has any sense he’ll stay away from this house. What did he say his name was?”

    “Ruben de Soto…” Ataire squeaked. Fosse elbowed him in the ribs.

    “De Soto?” Chaceledon whispered to Seteta.

    “Enough of this. My babits have a poor habit of…adopting any animals they can find. Seteta. You’ve seen what a composer does. This is what is expected of you. Come here, and choose an instrument that speaks to you. You’ll be expected to set up a day before the ceremony with the others. Besides my own Dahn being present and performing, I have heard several others have an interest in your sehejib.” Seikilos said matter-of-factly.

    Chaceledon sucked in a breath and choked, coughing rather indelicately into a sleeve. “Pardon?” he coughed.

    “What word did you not understand?” Seikilos said patiently, but challengingly. Clearly, she wasn’t a woman to repeat herself. She gestured to several sets of shelves along the walls; they were adorned with crystals of every size and shape. Hunks of granite the size of a foot, all the way down to humble quartz the size of a thumbnail. Smooth, rough, clear, cloudy, they were all there glittering on black velvet.

    “Well?” Seikilos fixed her gaze on Seteta. “Choose well, and think of the type of music you wish to make. Think of theatre. Think of the story you are telling.”
     
    "That's good," Seteta replied, though she was certain that if Hokkaido really wanted her out of the picture, he would find a way for it to happen. Whether she won the challenge fair and square or not.

    She shuddered as Seikilos lifted the stranger into the air, and did so again when he was just suddenly... not there, and Ataire was giving an all too familiar name.

    "Is he a pet? Do pets ever take on their owners' names?" she asked. Persian did not seem like the... fatherly type, and she found herself pitying any children he might ever have.

    Then Seikilos was speaking to her, though, and Seteta stepped away from Chaceledon to heed the dahna's instructions. She couldn't help but snort as he was taken aback by the news that others were challenging her, though.

    "Really, sehejib," she smirked at him over her shoulder, "did you think you were ugly and unattractive? And really, after the display in Maraan, you shouldn't have expected Nica to give up so easily, at the very least."

    Hokkaido had probably approached a few of the dahns as well, once Chaceledon had returned. Quite possibly at Cassius' party the night before.

    "What is theatre?" she asked curiously, begin to investigate the shelves. Carefully, she ran her fingers along the edges of them, not reaching out to touch the crystals yet, but just getting a feel of the magic each one emanated.

    Many felt familiar. A few made her pause, but when she examined the magic and how it felt to her, she would pass on them. This was not about her. It was about the new dragonling.

    "This one," she finally murmured, pointing to a crystal that looked more like stone, in shades of brown and green. It felt like Harrier, in a sense. Earthy and alive. There was more, but those were the first impressions.
     
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