Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon was a bit startled at the kiss, especially in front of Rheinhard. To his credit, Volker simply snorted and went to get his portion of breakfast. If he was disturbed by the display he didn’t show it. Chaceledon indulged her, smiling and closing his eyes. He flicked his tongue against hers playfully before they parted, and offered her one of the dried peppers. Common in the desert, they were a rare treat so far away. Chaceledon tucked them in his robes; there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d let Volker sell them.

He filled a small teacup with his breakfast and ate them delicately with chopsticks, settling himself on the log next to Seteta.

“The Lamplights are a pair of wraiths. Wraiths are what happens when an undead man is made mismatched. Typically, soul and body match, giving rise to a zombie or vampire. However, if the soul is pinned to another body by use of a magic seal, often carved somewhere secret, a wraith is born.” Rheinhard explained. “It is genuinely through no fault of their own; most wraiths are generated through failed necromancy experiments.”

“If I recall the Lamplights are a product of such an experiment. Oh, they’re not really evil per se, but wraiths have their own sense of morality. The Lamplights find souls lost on battlefields and collect them for the god of death.” Chaceledon explained. “Gaal, likewise, collects things, people and animals that interest him. Oor breeds one singular human line as weapons. Peculiar beings, and not ones people really like. Memory magic is stronger than it lets on.” The dragon patted Seteta’s thigh.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta carefully crumbled the dried pepper over the eggs on her plate, today making a pointed effort to not pay any attention to Chaceledon's food... or lack thereof. He said that his lack of proximity to the sands and heat were part of how Oor controlled his abilities, but she wouldn't be surprised if Chaceledon's refusal to eat an appropriate amount of food only furthered the issue. If one did not give their body enough fuel, it couldn't produce an adequate amount of heat. But she knew, after the discussion with the Volkers' in the Well, that if she pointed that out it likely wouldn't end nearly as well as she hoped. So... she would ignore Chaceledon's eating habits.

For now.

She continued to eat her own food, listening intently as Rheinhard explained wraiths and how they differed from other undead creatures. He'd mentioned some of it before, in the Well, but hadn't explained it quite so thoroughly.

"If the Lamplights are looking for souls lost in battle, why would they pose any danger to us?" she asked curiously, scooting a little closer to Chaceledon as he patted her thigh. After the grounding ritual last night, then sleeping in his arms, and the playful not-quite-but-almost fondling as she woke, his touch made her feel almost giddy. Abtatu, this dragon makes me burn with want, she thought, invoking the formless desert god's name out of habit. But I want to savor it, not be devoured by it.

She made herself be content with simply pressing the side of her leg against his, and kept her mind on the matters at hand. At hand, she silently chortled to herself, biting her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Oh if only I'd been awake for more of it!

Seteta cleared her throat softly, then brought up something else that had been on her mind. "Did you say earlier that Oor might be headed toward Pedeo as well? Would it be better if we split up, a few days out from the city? I could go in separately, ahead of you both, and perhaps then he wouldn't realize we were coordinating things for a little bit longer."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

“They don’t.” Volker said. “But I would rather not tempt them.” He held out a hand for the rest of Chaceledon’s teacup. The dragon had eaten just a little over half of it. Volker finished it off by tipping it into his mouth. “If they do not see us, there is no secret to slip if they come across Oor on the road.”

Chaceledon watched her, though he was a bit more reserved. As much as he liked kissing her, and their playful way, he knew it twisted a knife in Rheinhard’s chest. It was nothing malicious, but the dragon cared for his son and didn’t want him to feel as though he were...flaunting anything. He settled for resting his leg against Seteta’s for a moment, finishing a cup of tea.

“That may be wise, but promise me you’ll be careful.” Chaceledon said quietly. “I have a house in the Inner Wheel, roughly six o clock at noon, called the Lion House.”

“Pedeo is circular. It rotates to pull in fresh air and expel bad air. Chaceledon means if it is noon, and the sun filters through the northernmost windows, then the Lion House is directly behind you.” Volker explained as he began breaking down the tent. “Adjust your course as necessary. Use the sun.”

“It’s difficult to get used to.” Chaceledon admitted.

They were on the road again, and Chaceledon had to sit on a crate this time, with his back against Volker’s seat. They traveled quietly, though Chaceledon chatted lightly with Seteta on the journey. Volker was quiet, focused more on the tasks at hand, and paying attention to their surroundings. Chaceledon knew how he felt. As much as they talked about escape, they were only a few days out. Anything could happen.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

“They don’t.” Volker said. “But I would rather not tempt them.” He held out a hand for the rest of Chaceledon’s teacup. The dragon had eaten just a little over half of it. Volker finished it off by tipping it into his mouth. “If they do not see us, there is no secret to slip if they come across Oor on the road.”

Seteta nodded, then swallowed down her last bite of eggs. She set her plate aside, sneaking sips of Chaceledon's tea whenever he lowered his cup.

“That may be wise, but promise me you’ll be careful.” Chaceledon said quietly. “I have a house in the Inner Wheel, roughly six o clock at noon, called the Lion House.”

“Pedeo is circular. It rotates to pull in fresh air and expel bad air. Chaceledon means if it is noon, and the sun filters through the northernmost windows, then the Lion House is directly behind you.” Volker explained as he began breaking down the tent. “Adjust your course as necessary. Use the sun.”

"I will be careful," Seteta promised, giving Chaceledon a soft smile. "I haven't been to Pedeo myself, but I know some other Abtati guides who have it on their normal routes. I'll try to make contact with one of them once I'm there."

“It’s difficult to get used to.” Chaceledon admitted.

"It can't be any more difficult than navigating the desert with its ever-changing sand dunes. I know how to find my way using the sun and stars, as long as I have an anchor point," she reassured him. "Even if Pedeo rotates, so long as it stays in one place, I'll figure it out."

She stood then and began to help Rheinhard with the tent. Her fingers might be sore, but even if Gaal had healed Rheinhard's wrist after she broke it last night, the bones and tendons would still be fragile, and she tried to at least make the effort to ease the strain he had to put on it. Breaking down camp went quickly and quietly, and Seteta felt the mood begin to subtly shift as they departed.

She didn't scout as far ahead again as she had the other day, knowing that there were wraiths in the area. She stayed well within earshot, and even Mau seemed apprehensive, not wanting to leave the group despite the presence of Rheinhard and a dragon.

Over the next few days, the group seemed to settle into a rhythm. Seteta followed Rheinhard's lead, letting him guide them through the area, since he knew it best and he knew how to avoid the Lamplighters best. Seteta only asked Chaceledon once, as they neared the main road that could take them to the portal stone, if he was certain about taking the path to Pedeo, then spoke nothing more of it after that.

The tone of their flirtation changed as well. After the intensity of the moments they'd shared outside the damned village, Seteta turned her efforts to actually getting to know Chaceledon, and to some extent Rheinhard as well. Courtship, at least in her tribe, was a balance. The heat needed to be there, because you were testing someone, feeling them out to see if they might be a worthy mate. Someone who was strong enough to protect you, provide for your children. But it had to be tempered. Even if Abtati didn't live as long as other elves, they lived long, whether one mated for life or mated for a season, some ties would always be permanent.

So during the daylight hours, she would talk with both of them, ask about their interests and try to pry stories from Chaceledon about his family and his experiences. She kept any physical actions she initiated chaste, respectful of the fact that Rheinhard had only reluctantly given her approval to pursue Chaceledon. She wanted Rheinhard to know that while she did want to enjoy her time with his mother, she would respect Chaceledon's boundaries.

At night, after she'd tended to the horses, done her part in making camp, and helping with some aspect of dinner, she would tell stories of her childhood in Amol-Kalit, exploring the outlying portions of the Forbidden City, or traveling to the foothills of the Seret Mountains to buy horses. When she and Chaceledon would finally retreat to the darkness of the tent for sleep, she didn't shy away from showering him with gentle kisses and tucking herself into his arms for sleep. He was not the only one to wake in a somewhat compromising position at times, though, and when she was caught out, she took his own teasing with grace.

"We'll reach Vel Anir soon, won't we?" she asked Rheinhard the third evening after departing the village Gaal had enslaved. "What are our plans when make it there?"

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon watched her help Rheinhard with a faint smile. It was sweet to watch her help him. Rheinhard wouldn’t dare baby the wrist or show that he was hurting, but Chaceledon could tell he was sore. Chaceledon quietly finished his tea and rinsed their supplies, dousing the fire with the water. He settled into the back, and rested. He didn’t mind the quiet, even if the horses were nervous.

They passed the battlefield quietly and without issue. The only sign was the scent of death and fire on the wind. Rheinhard didn’t so much as blink. Chaceledon delicately covered his mouth with a spare piece of silk. It was bad luck to inhale air like that. He was grateful to be past it, and on the road towards Vel Anir and the Cortosi swamps.

Chaceledon liked speaking to Seteta. He told her of the House of Peridot, his family’s dahn, and how his father trafficked in marble. That was how he had picked up an affinity for stone. His father hated what he called lesser creatures, but he was more than happy to take their coin and have them as servants in their sprawling manse. It was well hidden in the mountains on the far reaches of the desert. Chaceledon remembered his childhood home being huge. Big enough to accommodate them at their smallest and largest. He remembered steaming baths of superheated sand to rub dead skin from their scales, extravagant dinners that they are almost none of. After all, it was a sign of wealth to have a hundred dishes at the table for whatever you were in the mood for.

Volker didn’t think much of any of it. Volker had been raised in a small village, his mother driven mad by Klaus’ rape. She’d considered strangling him in the crib, but hadn’t the heart. Oor had come to take him when she’d hung herself from the rafters. Volker had been three. Oor had rammed a hand through his heart and given him the Well, ending Klaus and sucking his father’s soul into that hideous prison. Volker was now a veteran of any war that could afford him, and had earned the dubious nickname of Ochresand Horror, from the orange color blood made sinking into the sands of Amol-Kalit.

Chaceledon cuddled Seteta at night, giving her fond kisses and babying her injured fingers. He even massaged her feet one night. He was happy to wake up to her, even though wandering hands were common in the middle of the night. He wanted her...but he wanted to get to know her more.

Rheinhard nodded to her, gingerly taking Rations’ food bag from his face. “We do not need to go to Vel Anir for anything. We pass it, quietly, and we do not bring attention to ourselves.” His eyes slid to Chaceledon, who was in a very sheer purple get up layered with black silk.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"We pass it, quietly, and we do not bring attention to ourselves.” His eyes slid to Chaceledon, who was in a very sheer purple get up layered with black silk.

"That, ah..." Seteta eyed Chaceledon with both appreciation and apprehension as she spoke with Rheinhard. "Can those in Vel Anir sense the use of magic? I might be able to help with that."

For being enslaved for several millennia, he's never learned how to not act like he's at the top of the food chain, Seteta thought with no little bemusement. He is all predator and doesn't even realize it.

"I have some talent with illusion magic," she said. "I can't make us vanish completely, but I can at least make Chaceledon appear less... flamboyant, from a distance. And if needed, I could make him and me appear to be human, for a short period of time."

Working the illusion magic on herself would be extremely difficult. She would have to both be casting an image of what she wanted someone else to see of Chaceledon, and of herself. For herself, it meant overriding her own innate image of herself, not letting her subconscious imagery take over even for a second. But she could do it, if their lives depended on it.

And she would have to talk to Chaceledon about the pain. Whether she paid the price beforehand or afterward, she would need his help, and beforehand would be far, far preferable.

As they continued making camp for the night, Seteta pondered how she might bring up the subject with the dragon. While she'd appreciated his sweet words about not wanting her to be in pain the other night, she also enjoyed using her abilities. For her, the price was worth it.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Volker shrugged. “There may be some.” He said. “Vel Anir is militaristic, suspicious and xenophobic. If you believe you can do this safely, it would benefit us to make a last minute supply run before the coast. We may encounter all sorts of things in the swamps, and we need to be prepared.”

Chaceledon looked entirely content with working on a new set of nails. He had several jars with glass rods, which he used to shape and add embellishments to his nails. He added heat in the form of a small flame tongue, and simply grabbed the glass with his fingers.

Volker managed to find deer, and pleased Chaceledon with a small, dainty section of tenderloin. It looked ridiculous in the wilderness; presented in a shallow tin bowl with the last of their butter, wild mushrooms, and rice they’d picked up in the last town. It looked entirely too fancy.

“Hardy dear thank you. It’s so nice to have a normal meal for once.” Chaceledon smiled at him, and settled in. He ate more, it seemed, when the food was presented haughtily. Volker and Seteta’s bowls were more generous and less fancy, but no less delicious.

“We are approaching Vel Anir. I need you to dress down.” Volker told Chaceledon. “No makeup, no nails, trousers and boots.”

Chaceledon glared at him. “Are you actually trying to bribe me to hide myself for a pack of racist cultists?” he asked in a chilly tone. He dumped the food into the fire, something he knew would antagonize Volker’s hatred of waste, and went to the tent.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"I can do it," Seteta nodded decisively. "But there are limits. The more people I have to fool, especially at one time, the more magic I have to draw on. I wouldn't be able to keep it up within a crowded marketplace in the city. It might be best if Chaceledon and I wait outside the city for you. Then I will only need to throw up the illusion if someone stumbles across us."

While Rheinhard hunted and then prepared dinner, Seteta built the fire, fetched water, and groomed the horses. As she scurried back and forth, eventually helping Rheinhard with the last of the food preparations, she watched Chaceledon creating his glass nails, her eyes soft and affectionate.

When she settled beside him as Rheinhard served up the food, she pressed the side of her leg against his for just a moment, enjoying his warmth. She pulled out the chopsticks he'd made, tracing over the etched sand dunes with a little smile. Her nail beds were still a little tender, but this was the first full day she'd gone without the bandages, and she was enjoying having the full sensation of touch again.

They ate quietly for a little while, and she stole glances at Chaceledon out of the corner of her eye, pleased to see that he seemed to actually be eating a fair amount. She turned her attention to her own food with a satisfied smile, but then looked up in horror when Rheinhard spoke.

“We are approaching Vel Anir. I need you to dress down.” Volker told Chaceledon. “No makeup, no nails, trousers and boots.”

Chaceledon glared at him. “Are you actually trying to bribe me to hide myself for a pack of racist cultists?” he asked in a chilly tone. He dumped the food into the fire, something he knew would antagonize Volker’s hatred of waste, and went to the tent.

She sighed, rolling her eyes slightly, but didn't get up yet. She still had food in her bowl, though she quietly glared at Rheinhard as she hastily finished eating.

"Next time wait until after he's done eating to bring up something like that," she advised with a bit of a snappish tone, setting her bowl and chopsticks aside then following Chaceledon. She paused outside the tent for a moment, not completely sure how to say what she needed to, but hopefully he would understand.

She stayed silent at first after ducking inside, cautiously eyeing the sulking dragon as she sat down and removed her boots. Then she sighed, scooted over to sit next to him, and gently placed her hand on top of his.

"Rheinhard needs to go into Vel Anir and get some supplies before we head to the Cortosi Coast," she said. "With the swamps in between, it may be some time before we're able to get some things again."

She was probably not saying anything Chaceledon didn't already know at this point, though. He was haughty and arrogant, but she'd seen enough now to know that he was also sly and cunning.

"I don't like the idea of having to hide who I am just because they--" she waved vaguely in the direction of where Vel Anir sat, though they hadn't yet come within sight of it "--don't like what I am. But right now, going unnoticed is the most prudent course of action. Especially since we're still trying to keep out of Oor's notice.

"Rheinhard and I have a plan. I'm going to use my illusion magic to make you and I at least appear to be human, but the less of an image I have to maintain, the better. If I only have to worry about making someone else think that your face and your hands and your hair are more human-like, and not just your clothing or make-up, it will be a lot easier on me."

She paused here, biting at her lip just a little as she wondered how to bring up the other matter with her illusion magic.

"I'll need your help, too," she said hesitantly. "There are two ways I can manage the price of my illusion magic. I can use the magic when I need it, and then the magic itself will determine the appropriate toll, within some parameters. Or... when, in a situation like this, I know I will need be able to use a greater amount of magic for a longer period of time, I can begin paying for it beforehand. It's more controllable that way. I can pace it out, spread it out over two or three days instead of a matter of hours, and use the magic for longer."

Seteta fell silent for a moment again, rubbing her thumb over the Chaceledon's knuckles. "The other night... when you said you didn't want to see me in pain... but... I'm alive. At some point or another, I will experience pain for some reason, whether there's magic involved or not. And... for me, the illusion magic is something I enjoy being able to use.

"It's part of Abtati culture, part of who I am, and someday I hope I get to show you how we use it to pass on our histories. Even if I have to deal with some pain... well, for me I guess it's like... your sewing. Every time you pick up a needle or pins, you run the risk of pricking yourself. But that doesn't stop you from making clothes."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Volker ignored her. He knew Chaceledon well enough that waiting until after he’d eaten would have only made the dragon go and quietly perform a time-honored draconian tradition...purging. Then he would have been angrier, both at the deception and having to brush his teeth. That, and Volker was an honest man to a fault. Whether through Oor’s brainwashing or his own code, he didn’t like to lie. Especially to people he considered allies.

He pursed his lips looking at the burning food. He wasn’t expecting Chaceledon to waste, given how much Volker disliked it. Then again, the dragon had always been unapologetic. When Oor thought to parade him around at parties, Chaceledon had worn an interpretation of a slave collar out of sheer defiance. If Oor needed to impress a man Chaceledon would insult him. The one thing the dragon had ever been contrarian over was Volker’s contracts. Without contracts, Volker was a dead man, so the dragon had played nice.

Volker understood the want not to hide, but this wasn’t the time nor place for it. He sighed and began preparing his own bed.

Chaceledon took her hand quietly. “Ironically...Vel Anir was my second choice to hide. If Oor even attempted to set foot there, it would be a full scale witch hunt. But I don’t want some guardsmen hunting him down while I cower in an inn. I want to be able to turn and face him.” he said, and took a deep breath. “If it will help your magic, I’ll dress down while Rheinhard is in Vel Anir. But he’d better hurry. If I don’t have at least face powder on, I feel naked.”

Chaceledon kissed her cheek. “I never want to keep you from something that’s important to you. I just want to make sure it’s your choice, and that I never pressure you. If illusion’s your art...then I want that talent to grow, not stifle because I’m afraid of you being hurt.” The dragon smiled and went outside to get some of their water and wash his face off. He put his nails away, and pulled his hair up and back. He dressed in a simple linen shirt and black pants.

He looked almost...normal. Tall and willowy to be sure, but a normal man. Volker eyed him. “Earrings.” He grunted.
Chaceledon rolled his eyes and took out the orange chaceldony studs. “Really dear I do think people wear jewelry.” he groused.

“Not eight carat studs.” Volker replied, and hefted a handmade pack from the deer they’d hunted a few days ago. “I will return soon. Stay quiet and douse the fire if you need to.”

“Yes of course, we’re two rubes out for a bit of midnight constitutional.” Chaceledon rolled his eyes, and went back to the tent. He flopped on his back, looking at Seteta with a sly grin. “All alone at last, whatever shall we do to pass the time?”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta smiled and leaned into the kiss Chaceledon pressed to her cheek. She didn't follow him out of the tent when he rose, but did flop forward onto her belly, holding the tent flap open to watch as he, to use Rheinhard's term, "dressed down."

By the time he was finished, she was smiling with satisfaction. Truly, all she had to worry about was toning down his hair, and disguising his eyes, and possibly his hands. If they were challenged by travelers or a patrol from Vel Anir, she would certainly be able to make him seem less dragonish. The scars on his face would, honestly, help. They would detract a suspicious eye from the rest of him, making her own magic less noticeable.

She watched as Rheinhard strolled away, vanishing into the diminishing daylight, then scrambled backward into a sitting position again as Chaceledon reentered the tent.

He flopped on his back, looking at Seteta with a sly grin. “All alone at last, whatever shall we do to pass the time?”

Heat slithered through her body and her eyes sparkled, but she just laughed softly and stuck her hand outside the tent and into the dirt. Her gaze grew distant for just a moment as she connected to the magic inherently present in the earth, drawing an invisible perimeter around the campsite, and tying the awareness of the earth to herself, temporarily. She would know, now, if anyone stepped within sight of them. Earth magic was practically effortless for her, almost like breathing. But that contrast was part of what she enjoyed about the illusion magic so much. It took practice to master the skill of it. A challenge.

But she wouldn't give up either one willingly.

"There." she nodded, then brought her hand back in and lounged on her side next to Chaceledon, propping herself up on an elbow.

"Whatever shall we do?" she repeated his question with a smirk. "I have... some thoughts." She reached out and smoothed the back of her fingers down the side of his face, her voice taking on a sultry tone. "The other night, when I suggested that you bite me... it wasn't just for the pain," she confessed, meeting his eyes. "Not all pain has to be bad."

She smoothed her thumb over his lip again, in the same manner that she had the first day, as they left the shop and she used her illusions then to ease his anxiety, but the warmth he'd felt that day was absent. She wasn't using magic this time.

"I do need to start on that toll," she spoke again, more seriously, with the seductive tone gone, though the mood still hung in the air. "And to some extent, there are... actions we can take, that will cause pain, that I can enjoy in the moment. Deep, intense aches that last for days are what will best serve me for this. But I don't need to break skin, or bleed, or scar. And I do have one stipulation for whatever happens for this: our pants stay on, and we do not put our hands under them."

That was a rule she'd always had, when she needed someone's help like this, but now it felt even more important. She liked Chaceledon. She trusted him enough to ask this of him, to help her pay her toll, and she hoped that he understood that. But she wouldn't use it to force their relationship to a point it wasn't ready for yet.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Volker headed into Vel Anir. He wasn’t relaxed about it in the slightest; he was more comfortable around fae and the undead than men at this point. The xenophobic nature of Vel Anir had never appealed to him, though here he could comfortably disappear into the crowd of humans. He headed for the markets and bought supplies. Waterproofed jars for rice, and a jar of raw rubber from Volta. As much as the Voltese used raw rubber for insulation from the lightning, it did damn well to keep water out of a man’s boots. A cover for their tent, and an additional one. There would soon be no tree boughs to sleep on.

He spotted something else. Long, sweeping tusks nearly six feet long, and gently curved. Bull troll ivory. His eyes hardened. Cortosi trolls were known for their tusks, but even after death they were never sold or traded. He eyed his bag. Pieces of jewelry Chaceledon would never miss. He bought all of them.

In the tent, Chaceledon leaned into Seteta’s hand. The idea of hurting her didnt appeal to him, but he fought down the knee jerk reaction. She was asking for this. It was to help them. “Forgive me...but...I’d really rather not mix romance and pain. I know this is to help you, and I know you need to have pain to pay the debt to your magic. But when I think of biting you, I’m back there again on black sheets with his teeth around my throat.” he said softly. “That in mind...I may need some guidance. I won’t enjoy it, but the thought of those humans getting ahold of you in there, knowing what happens in Vel Anir raiding parties to sharpears...I’d rather the pain come from me.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

As Chaceledon spoke, hesitancy clear in his voice and demeanor, a cold horror crept through her. She'd been trying to keep in mind the abuse--torture--that had been inflicted on him by the wraith, but clearly she'd moved a little too quickly on some things.

She took a slow, deep breath, one that caught in her throat a little, and hurriedly blinked away tears. She kept her hand where it was, though, cradling his face, thumb now smoothing over his cheekbone, then brow.

"Please... don't hesitate to tell me if something makes you uncomfortable," Seteta whispered. "I will admit that there are... aspects of mixing pain and pleasure that I enjoy, and some of that I learned because of the magic. But it's not necessary. What I want most is for us to feel safe and comfortable with each other."

Slowly, she slid her hand away from his face, over his shoulder and down his arm. She clasped his hand in hers, and tugged him up to sitting.

"In fact," she stated, "Let's take this out of the tent altogether. What about sparring instead? Just promise not to pull your hits--" she hesitated a moment, realizing she didn't know what the dragon's natural strength might be compared to her own, and while pain was the point, debilitating injury was not "--within reason."

She released Chaceledon's hand, and pulled her boots over to put them back on.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon saw her reaction, and took her hand. He’d said too much. He was used to the Volkers, who could probably eat through horrific descriptions of war crimes. They were notoriously unflappable. Clearly, he needed to censor himself a bit. He didn’t want her pity. He cleared his throat and kissed her.

“Listen to me. I don’t want pity. Or for you to think about all that. Just know I’m not quite ready.” He kissed her again, and stood up. “Come on then, let’s see your skills with the staff. I warn you, I’m not a slouch.”

Chaceledon picked up a few longer, straighter branches and began stripping the smaller branches off. He snapped them to length, and tossed one to Seteta. He slipped into a fighting stance easily; weight between his legs and up on the balls of his feet for better movement. He lunged for her the second she had hold and aimed for her gut. It would be a strong punt, but nothing more than a nasty bruise.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta returned his kiss, then shook off her melancholy. He may not want pity, but that didn't mean she could just stop feeling the heartache his words had brought. She finished lacing up her boots, then exited the tent just in time to see him snap a tree limb in half rather effortlessly.

"I'll be honest," she said as she caught the newly-crafted makeshift staff with barely a fumble, watching the stance he took and doing her best to mimic it. "I've had limited experience with a spear, and practically none with the staff."

He was fast, though, and she made her best effort to react, jumping back and pushing her staff low and to the side in an effort to at least redirect his strike. It caught her along the top of her hip, though, and she hissed. It had been a long time since she used any form of sparring for accumulating her toll, and for just a moment her mind went blank as she tried to recall what to do. Then it came back to her, and she redirected her inhale to breathe into the area where the pain originated from, then used her exhale to coax the pain out of that spot, and into another. A place she didn't have a name for--something that didn't really exist within her physical body--where the pain could be held, until she needed the magic.

She looked up at Chaceledon, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. "This'll do," she said with a grin. "Give me what you've got."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon was a different man with a weapon in his hand. He had taught Volker and the rest of his boys the same way. Sparring was not for conversation, and one didn’t stop. The Volkers were relentless combatants, ferocious. They were taught from a young age never to waste an opportunity. Chaceledon was the same way.

He stayed close and let the strike hit her in the hip, then rotated up and struck for her shoulder. To the side for her ribs. Again aiming for her knees to sweep her off her feet and flat on her back. Chaceledon was fast, and he wasn’t pulling any punches. He struck hard. He wasn’t trying to truly hurt her, but like his beloved sons, she would be covered in bruises.

“Evoth Volker was a little slower than you are. But I like the view.” Chaceledon chuckled, and aimed downward to slam the butt of the staff into her foot.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta wasn't able to block the strike to her shoulder, but did at least jump aside far enough, twisting her staff back around, that Chaceledon struck wood instead of ribs. Pain was good, but she liked breathing without hindrance, but as she worked to channel the pain away, accruing the toll for her magic, her reactions slowed.

When he knocked her off her feet, she resisted the urge to use her earth magic like she had against Klaus-Rheinhard. Instead, she rolled to one side, Chaceledon's attempted strike to her foot barely missing, then quickly pushed herself back up. Her back was exposed for too long, though, and she winced as more than one blow fell, though she didn't stumble on her feet again.

Tucking her head into her chest, she ducked low and pivoted, transferring the staff to one hand and swinging it outward in the direction where she thought Chaceledon stood, trying to use the momentum of it to at least strike his legs, if not knock him on his ass. Her second hand met the ground to steady herself, and while she wasn't reaching out to use her magic, anytime she touched the ground, she had some sense of it.

Normally.

"Wait!" she cried out, losing the grip on her staff. She collapsed to her knees, not paying heed to whether or not Chaceledon had begun another strike and whether or not he'd been able to pull it, pressing both palms desperately to the earth.

"Where did it go?" she murmured. "Why can't I feel it?"

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon danced away from her, taking a wide smack across the shins. He chuckled, and stumbled, but caught himself and circled back in. He prepared another strike between her shoulder blades...and froze. He blinked. Where did what go? He tossed the rod away and knelt by Seteta, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Seteta, are you alright? Did I strike you too hard? I’m sorry, I’m used to the Volkers, those boys can take a punch in the throat without complaining.” Chaceledon silently swept an arm behind her knees and lifted her to his chest. He lifted her effortlessly for a man so slender, resting his forehead against hers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Well, I did. Just not so hard.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta barely heard what Chaceledon said, her hands scrabbling desperately in the dirt, searching for something she could not see, something most people and creatures were never even aware of beneath their feet, but ti her was nearly as essential as the lifeblood in her veins.

Then Chaceledon was lifting her up, pressing his face to hers and murmuring apologies, and while she winced at the pain that radiated through her hip and shoulder, it brought her back to the moment, out of the panic.

"Oh sehejib," she whispered, nuzzling her face against his. "It was not you. But please set me down, I need to have my hands in the dirt again. Something is... wrong."

When she was back on the ground, her hands settling against the dirt, she closed her eyes and reached.

Nothing.

"There's nothing," she whispered, looking at Chaceledon. "I set a ward earlier, after Rheinhard left, so I knew if anyone was approaching. But it's gone and I can't sense anything or... reset it. Nothing."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon kissed her and set her down, frowning. Something was wrong. Something had interrupted Seteta’s connection to the earth. Something had interrupted her. It made him fear for himself. He turned his head and tried to blow that flame, that lovely violet plume that always came to him no matter how cold he was. Nothing. He had no fire. A dragon with no fire. His magic was stuttering inside of him. He grabbed Seteta’s arm suddenly.

“Darling. If you can’t feel the earth and I can’t breathe fire...” he took in a shuddering breath. “...Rheinhard. Darling we need to get Rheinhard out of that damned city.”

_________________

The Well was destabilized and he knew it. The prison was tilted, the occupants rallied, and Rheinhard wasn’t Rheinhard anymore. Klaus grinned and flipped the knife in his fingers, flinging it toward the two women on the wall. They screamed and cringed, but the blade was far too close. Mere centimeters away from a dirty, cringing, stripped form.
“Must be going soft.” Klaus cackled nastily.

The room had once been one of the smaller inns in Vel Anir, or more specifically the basement. Klaus had emptied it, and barred the door. Emptied was perhaps the wrong word; their bodies were against the wall, and the serving girls the last remnants. Klaus was stripped down to the waist, illusion magic coating Rheinhard’s body with what Klaus had looked like in life.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta watched as Chaceledon tried to breathe his fire. Felt horror sink into her as she realized that it wasn't just her magic but all magic being affected. It had to be, if it was affecting a dragon as well. There was nothing she could think of, in common, about how their magic worked other than it was magic.

But her horror deepened even further when he grabbed her arm, spoke those frightening words.

“Darling. If you can’t feel the earth and I can’t breathe fire...” he took in a shuddering breath. “...Rheinhard. Darling we need to get Rheinhard out of that damned city.”

She nearly swayed on her feet. He was right, of course, but she was not--in the slightest--prepared for this. "Will they even let us in the gates, this late in the evening?" she murmured, but her mind was already churning away, calculating the risks they would have to take, the possibilities that might exist.

Taking just a moment in time to be calm and still, she brought her hand up to clasp Chaceledon's where it still held her arm, and turned to look around the campsite. Even if her magic was failing in that moment, she was still an elf. She could hear no one nearby, nor any voices. Just them, the crackling fire, and the snuffling of the horses. Wild creatures, mostly rodents, scurrying through the underbrush. The hoot of an owl.

Whatever was causing this interruption to their magic, it was not around them.

"If I keep my ears covered, I can pass as human," Seteta said. "And you, well..." she bit her lip as she glanced at Chaceledon out of the corner of her eye "you're... humanoid enough, except for your eyes... perhaps..."

Hesitantly, as if afraid that it might not work at all, she turned toward him, reaching up for his collar again and tugging him down so she could reach his face, she studied his eyes for just a moment. Then she reached up and smoothed her thumb over one eyelid, and then the other. She felt some warmth radiate from her touch, and an aching tug within her as the toll was paid from the pain she'd already accrued. Hope rose alongside it.

"It's a good thing you aren't wearing makeup right now," she said with a rueful grin, then a sigh of relief as his eyes opened again. The vivid violet of his eyes was toned down, still bright but more blue than purple.

"It worked," she breathed, a relieved laugh escaping her and she pressed a quick kiss to his lips before she let go of his collar so he didn't have to stay hunched. On a whim, she crouched down and pressed her hand to the earth again, and for a second she thought she felt... something. Like the magic, but a mere echo of it, but it faded away all too quickly. She frowned, then stood again.

"How will we find him, once we're in Vel Anir?" she asked, heading to the tent and retrieving her satchel.

She dumped all of the contents within it on the bedding, then tucked her original clothing from Amol-Kalit, a spare headscarf, the chopsticks, and the toothbrush back in the bag. She still wore the silver bracelet he'd made her. The vibrant, elaborate gown he'd altered for her in Fal'Addas stayed out. She wasn't sure what they would encounter, and if or when they'd be back, and she needed the space for more important things. Like the coin. She'd seen where Rheinhard stowed it away in the wagon, and he hadn't taken all of it into Vel Anir with him. She took half of what was left, tucking it as deeply into the satchel as she could, where it would be hardest for pickpockets to find it. She perused the food stores, found dried meat and fruits and some nuts tucked away, and took those as well. She didn't know if they'd make it back to this campsite, to the supplies there, and wasn't going into Vel Anir unprepared.

She wrapped a headscarf in place, but made sure the front was loose enough to pull down and uncover her face if asked to do so. Before she slung her satchel over her shoulder, she pulled out a small leather pouch--empty--that she'd found in the wagon, likely something that had just gotten picked up by mistake in one of the villages they'd passed through. She bent down, scooped up a handful of dirt, and dumped it in the pouch before tying it shut and placing it into her coat pocket. She wasn't sure if cobbled streets would prevent her from using her earth magic... if it came back at all. But she wasn't willing to risk not having it as an option.

"There," she said, moving toward the campfire to douse it. "I'm ready. Do you want to risk taking the horses with us? There's no guarantee we'll make it back here for them."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon kissed her, closing his eyes and letting her run her thumbs over them. He felt a small bloom of warmth, of enchantment. She was drawing from the fight. Now he was just a tall man with reddish hair and dark blue-purple eyes. Hopefully the humans hadn’t seen a dragon for so long they wouldn’t recognize him. He watched her gather supplies, and quietly began hiding their tools. He led Rations and Mau deeper into a copse of trees. Just out of casual sight.

“Hopefully everything will be here. We can’t take the horses. Klaus liked setting them on fire.” Chaceledon said quietly, and looked at her grimly. “How are we going to find Volker? Follow the screaming.”

He took Seteta’s hand, and took a deep breath. He walked toward the city. They had to be confident, and hopefully that would get them past the guards. He lifted his head high, and they were to the gates within a few minutes. He stood before the guards, and took a breath to begin the negotiation.

A distant, sharp scream pierced the night, along with a loud, explosive boom. Black smoke billowed into the sky, and flames rose from a nearby building. The shrieks of those trapped inside were thin and wailing.

“Jason.” Chaceledon whispered in horror. He grabbed Seteta’s hand and bolted through the gates.

An inn was slowly being consumed by fire. It had started on the main level and in the storage room, and by the flaming horses careening madly into the street, had reached the stables. One horse shouldered into a cart, sending it up like flint to tinder.
“Seteta listen to me. It’s not just Nestor, Aluid, Ferenzi and Klaus that are awake. It’s all of them. All six and a half hundred.” Chaceledon’s mouth was dry, and he felt like retching.

_______________________

Jess laughed madly as she swept through the flaming inn, throwing another improvised bomb. Lamp oil and eggs, an old trick of hers. They were crude, but given a bit of rag soaked in flaming oil, they exploded neatly when thrown. Fire stung her eyes, and the buzzing in her skull was madness. She kicked through the back of the inn and drew Rheinhard’s knife in one hand, tossing another egg through the window of an adjacent home.

It was good to be back. She caught the first guard as he rounded a corner with a knife through the eye, and slid into an alleyway.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta grimaced at the mention of Klaus, but allowed Chaceledon to take her hand and lead her toward the city once she had the campfire doused. The walls of the city had, of course, been visible from their camp, but it was easy to ignore them if you focused on the trees. Now, though with every step they took, it was impossible to ignore the great, thick walls looming before them.

The gate was relatively quiet when they arrived, only a few others before them awaiting entrance, and in no time they stood before the guards, and Seteta tried not to shift nervously. The guards looked oddly at the pair of them, but she was pleased to see that they were more put off by Chaceledon's scars than by his not-quite-right hair and eye color. Before there was any chance of further scrutiny, though, their attentions were all called away by the explosion.

“Jason.” Chaceledon whispered in horror. He grabbed Seteta’s hand and bolted through the gates.

She scrambled to keep up with Chaceledon's far longer stride, but at least managed to not fall flat on her face onto the cobbled street as he pulled her through the gate, despite the distracted shouts of the guards. Fortunately for them, the inn was not too far inside the city, but her stomach twisted as she caught sight of the flaming horses panicking in the street.

She began looking around as she listened to Chaceledon. Thanks to the late hour, there were not many pedestrians about, but that also meant they could not vanish into any crowds--yet. Hopefully people would begin to respond to the fire itself, soon. They could not.

The guards from the gate had followed them, but at least herself and Chaceledon were no longer their main focus.

“Seteta listen to me. It’s not just Nestor, Aluid, Ferenzi and Klaus that are awake. It’s all of them. All six and a half hundred.”

"I have no idea how to help you contain something like that," Seteta admitted. "Especially if I cannot use my earth magic."

She yearned to crouch down, to press her hand to the cobblestones and the dirt packed between them and see if she could sense something. Anything. But she couldn't afford to be that vulnerable right now. So instead, she kept scanning the area.

[Jess] caught the first guard as he rounded a corner with a knife through the eye, and slid into an alleyway.

Movement, in the shadows just past the inn. "There," Seteta tugged on Chaceledon's hand, pointing toward it. "I think I saw something there."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon, in the back of his mind, knew he was dragging the poor girl, but few things could strike fear into him like the angry fire-prone Volker. If they hadn’t wanted to attract attention at Vel Anir they sure as hell were now! He cursed himself; Oor had managed to keep the door to the storage closed, but the shiver of magic had blown it wide open. How many were out and awake? Ten? Fifteen? Three hundred? All? He wouldn’t know until he got inside the Well.

Chaceledon ignored the flames, and winced when he saw the men trying desperately to put the inn out. With so many buildings so close together, a flame of that size could easily spread to either building. By the sight and smell of it, it was doing just that. Jason tended to spider outward from his original fire, so that the smaller fires would reinforce the larger. Then plant another large fire, and repeat the process.

“I need to get inside the Well, and get my sons back into their holding area. It’s the black door.” Chaceledon explained. Seteta crouched, and pointed to an alleyway.

The dragon hurried to follow her finger, and grabbed the deerskin pack Jason had abandoned there. There was a dead guard with a knife in his eye, and Chaceledon neatly yanked it out. If Rheinhard lost a blade he’d be furious. He gripped Seteta’s hand securely; she could get lost in the smoke.

“I was wondering when you would show up.” Jason sneered at him, a fire seed ready in one hand. “You kept me asleep for so fucking long I didn’t recognize this place.”

“Jason-“

“That is not my fucking name.” Jason growled darkly.

“The Well is destabilized. You know you could lose control at any moment. Please, I need to get inside and get the others settled. We need to get out of here. The fire will only distract them for so long.” Chaceledon reasoned. “Atacama, Brade, if you can hear me...hit him now!”

Chaceledon braced himself, and felt Rheinhard’s teeth close over his face. When he landed in the Well...he looked over. Seteta had been pulled in with him...into a maelstrom of chaos.

Men were everywhere. Brawling, fighting, arguing, crying, questioning. Rheinhard was fending off seven of his own relatives. It was a mass of bodies, of all shapes, sizes and ages. Aluid was on someone’s back punching the back of his head. Chaceledon pulled Seteta over to where a scarred redhead cowered. One eye was cloudy with damage, the other crystal clear blue. Chaceledon hauled him to his feet. “Huron! Watch her!” he shouted.

The redhead blinked, and held out his hand for Seteta’s. Chaceledon waded into the brawl, backhanding and seizing ears.
“ALL OF YOU STOP EMBARASSING ME RIGHT THIS SECOND OR I SWEAR NONE OF YOU WILL SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!”

The fighting stopped like someone had forced them to freeze. They stared at Chaceledon...and Seteta. Huron bit his lip. “B-b-buh-better be k-quiet..” he whispered to her, and tried to herd her behind him.

“Now. Rheinhard. Back in charge. The rest of you single file line into the black door.” Chaceledon growled, pointing a finger. “Something interrupted not only my magic, but Seteta’s and yours. This wasn’t intentional. We are in danger and we need everyone quiet.”

“Seteta?”
“The woman?”
“There’s a woman in here?”
“Why did mom bring in a woman?”

Questions rose from the crowd, and all eyes turned to Huron and the elf.


Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta followed closely on Chaceledon's heels, glad for the smoke to obscure their presence from the guards, and glad for her headscarf to block at least some of it from her breathing. Unlike Chaceledon, she was not relatively immune to flames.

She laced her fingers through Chaceledon's when she felt his hand tightening around hers as he pulled the knife out of the dead guard's eye, looking over at Rheinhard-not-Rheinhard when he began to speak. Volker had been closer than she expected, but at least it meant they didn't have to keep tracking him further.

The exchange between the dragon and the man went quickly, and when Rheinhard-not-Rheinhard lunged for Chaceledon's face, it took everything in her not to yank him out of the way. She fought back a panicked breath, though, as she found herself falling in alongside Chaceledon. Is it because we were still holding hands? she wondered. Or that, combined with the fact that I've been in the Well before?

And then, despite the sudden chaos surrounding her, realized that the three of them were alone, exposed and defenseless to whoever might stumble across them, in an alleyway in Vel Anir. "Oh Abtatu," she whispered under her breath, "please protect us."

Then Chaceledon was dragging her aside, hauling another man to his feet, and placing her in his care.

“Huron! Watch her!” he shouted.

She didn't let her hesitation show as she slipped her hand out of Chaceledon's and took Huron's proffered one, knowing there was nothing she could now except stay out of the way. But she was reluctant to be away from Chaceledon, in this moment. She had no idea what would--could--happen in the real world, if her illusion magic would hold or warp, between the strange things happening already, and then being in the Well, as well.

“ALL OF YOU STOP EMBARASSING ME RIGHT THIS SECOND OR I SWEAR NONE OF YOU WILL SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!”

The fighting stopped like someone had forced them to freeze. They stared at Chaceledon...and Seteta. Huron bit his lip. “B-b-buh-better be k-quiet..” he whispered to her, and tried to herd her behind him.

Seteta reached across with her free hand and gave Huron's arm a reassuring pat. "I'll be fine," she whispered. "You don't need to hide me."

The sheer number of eyes on her was disconcerting, but she forced herself to stay calm. To not fidget nervously. But then Chaceledon drew further attention to her, if unintentionally, and with nearly a thousand pairs of eyes fixated on her suddenly, she felt a little faint.

"Ah... hello," she said, her voice a little weaker than she would have liked. She wasn't sure what to say. Chaceledon had already said her name, and she was uncertain is she should say anything about we're running away from Oor or I'm courting your mother. Sure, Rheinhard, Ferenzi, Nestor, and Aluid... and presumably Klaus all knew, but... she still wasn't sure how all of this worked yet, and how much information Oor could glean from the Well.

So she didn't say anything else, not about that at least. She cast a helpless glance at Chaceledon.

"I'm... an earth mage," she said, which... in simplest terms, she was. It just didn't feel quite right to call herself a mage because she hadn't learned the magic, she'd been born with it. "A little while ago, it stopped working. I can't sense any magic in the earth anymore. Chaceledon can't breathe his dragonfire anymore. And presumably, whatever caused that also set all of you" --Seteta gestured at the crowd vaguely-- "free at one time. But the problem is that we're in Vel Anir, and we need to get out before someone finds us and realizes neither he" --she gestured at Chaceledon then back to herself-- "nor I are human."

There was no need to say that she and Chaceledon had come into Vel Anir specifically to retrieve Rheinhard. Maybe some of these Volkers would be more cooperative if they thought that their actions had directly endangered Chaceledon.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

One of them, a younger teenager, burst out laughing. “You’re in the room with the biggest group of madmen since Jess set a barracks on fire and you say hi? Oh, this one’s adorable. We keep this one.” Yarel cackled. Another of the Volkers slapped him upside the head. Hard.

“Why are there two people in here? Where are we?” Another asked.

“Vel Anir dipshit, and Jess set fire to half the goddamn buildings.” A dreadlocked young man glared at a taller, dark haired Volker.

“Fuck you, Brade, and fuck those uppity racists.” Jess sneered.

“In the black door now. Rheinhard? Where are you? Come here. Ferenzi, Huron, up front now. The rest of you in the door. This isn’t a negotiation! I’ll talk to you all when this is over about putting you back to sleep.” Chaceledon snapped. The Volkers muttered among each other until Chaceledon clapped his hands sharply. They began to file into the black room, which was more of an extended hallway. It looked like a storage unit, with pedestals of black stone carved with each Volker’s name. They argued, a few of them took others’ pedestals to mock each other, and Chaceledon herded them in.

“Why do I have to go?” Aluid complained.

“Because I need Ferenzi and Huron right now love.” Chaceledon simply picked him up, carried him in, and put him on his pedestal.

Rheinhard staggered upright, and cracked his nose back into place. He coughed blood, and stumbled over to Seteta and Huron. Ferenzi helped keep him up. “Atacama and Klaus did a number on him.” Ferenzi said grimly. “Rheinhard, will you be all right to pull them out?”

Chaceledon came to his son and kissed his forehead. “We need to get out of here dear, I’ve got your pack.” he said softly. Rheinhard nodded. “Jason set an entire inn aflame and we’re standing in an alleyway. We need to move, now.”

Huron looked at Seteta curiously, rubbing his neck. “H-h-hey. I s-suh-saw the illusion m-magic you did. It w-was good.” He smiled softly. Chaceledon took her hand and kissed it, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go.” he said quietly.

They emerged from the Well into a maelstrom. Either side had buildings collapsing in complete fiery chaos. Smoke blew through the alleyway, and Chaceledon swore under his breath. Rheinhard collapsed forward on the ground and vomited, blowing blood from his nostrils.

Seteta