Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Chaceledon nodded politely. “With all due respect to yourself and your daughter and son…I have no interest in anyone but Seteta.” He said lightly. Thank the gods they were on the same page with that at least. He cleared his throat and took in the man’s study with a surprised expression; dear gods, it looked similar to Nestor’s laboratory! “I think one of my children was born to the wrong family…” he muttered as he took his seat, glad to get the weight off his foot.

It was hard not to get distracted by his surroundings, really. What were the samples? They sent uncomfortable tingles up his spine and he resolved not to look too closely at them. Clothing had always been more of his thing than…whatever mysterious things were floating in alcohol. He turned his attention to Hawthorn, and blinked.

“Of course my father is going to try and sabotage the marriage. I’m not a fool, I know he favors Cassius to inherit Dahn Peridot. But we will persevere through any nonsense he attempts to fling at us just like we will this performance.” He said, lifting his chin. “Hokkaido will have to pay out my dowry whether he likes it or not. Peridot runs the business portion of the house and she’s laid aside a substantial amount for myself and Cassius.”

He blinked in shock, and gave a nervous laugh. “You can’t be serious.” He said dismissively. Of course, it had crossed his mind…but really only in the event Seteta failed. Not forfeiting altogether. “I would come to the marriage with nothing. Not even these clothes on my back. I would forfeit every penny, every crystal and property I own.” He chewed his lip. Of course he would do it if push came to shove. But to burn it all down willingly?

“I’d never see my mother or my brother ever again.” He said quietly. “Much less Seikilos, or yourself.”
 
"One of your children?" Hawthorn asked curiously. "You were with your mate that long in captivity? Hyssop seemed convinced that the two of you were not yet certain if you could have children."

He bent his elbows and steepled his fingers against his chin as Chaceledon spoke. It seemed he did not know, and Hawthorn wouldn't reveal it. Not without Peridot's consent, at least. He knew she suspected he knew, but he'd never actually confirmed her suspicions.

"Not everything Hokkaido might 'fling at you' will be nonsense," Hawthorn warned gently, but that was really all he could say on that matter. "You should be absolutely certain that your mate is willing to take these risks also, especially if she is unwell. Why put her through the ordeal if it isn't truly necessary?"

He understood Chaceledon's hesitancy. It was a big decision to make, especially after having been away for so long. But the dragons had changed in that time--quite a lot. And in most ways not for the better. But at the least, Chaceledon needed to consider these things. Especially with Hokkaido's involvement.

"Is your mate marrying you for your possessions and standing?" Hawthorn asked quietly. "Or is she marrying you?"

If Seteta was a dragon, Hawthorn would have easily wagered on the former. And he'd barely seen Seteta at the dinner, and only from a distance. From her interactions, she'd seemed a kind soul with her feet firmly on the ground.

He'd heard plenty of what the other dragons had to say, though, and while it had been almost kind for dragon society, his few interactions with the Inizae told him that it would wear her down over time. Chaceledon would have to be strong enough--resolved enough--to protect her, even at his own expense. Especially if they had children.

"As for never seeing certain individuals again... where there's a will, there's a way." Hawthorn looked at Chaceledon with a warm gleam in his eye, and pitched his voice low. Barely more than a whisper. "I hear that Carnelian and Garnir will be trying for a clutch soon."
 
Chaceledon cleared his throat, and ignored the comment. He really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut about the Volkers. It was hard; they’d never been a secret before. He rubbed the back of his neck as Hawthorn spoke. He was right. Seteta was weak and Hokkaido was a wily man with very little scruples. He would have to talk to Seteta about it, but part of him felt so sheepish. They’d been waiting for this ceremony for so long…

He chewed his lip. “Dahnesh…I can’t come to her with nothing. A man has to provide for his mate and his family. She deserves it. All of it. She deserves my mines, my estate, I want her to walk in sunny grounds and have her needs catered to. I want her to have servants and a masseur and good food every evening. I don’t want her to want for anything.” He admitted. “She’s marrying me for me. Of that I’m certain. But is she expected to be in poverty forever? She deserves the world, that woman.”

Chaceledon looked up, eyes owlish. His sister? Trying for a clutch? Gods, how did he know?! It was forbidden to even talk of Carnelia and Gharnir, both their families considered them dead!

“I…” he hesitated. It wasn’t a test was it? Surely not, no one would joke like that. “They’re hedahn, how could you possibly know? You risk everything just in telling me.”

Chaceledon rubbed a hand down his face. “You’ve been talking with her? How is she? I know she and Gharnir have been up in Floiland…”
 
"Just make sure that she wants those things too," Hawthorn said gently. "When two people marry with different expectations... it can make things harder than they have to be. Take my own word on that."

If he'd noticed things with Hana earlier... gods, he did his best to treat the twins like he did his other children, but he'd never forget the lengths of deception Hana had gone to even have them. It had broken their trust in a way that he wasn't even sure could be mended.

He saw the shock in Chaceledon's eyes, and smiled reassuringly.

"There are some of us who think this practice of declaring dragons hedahn is ludicrous," he continued in that quiet whisper. "We as a species can't afford to disown and cast out our future.

"Of course, you should speak of this to no one. But there is a network established to keep tabs on hedahn, and I my case... to get them medical aid if and when they need it. It's not like there are doctors versed in dragon physiology wandering the earth."

There was a knock at the door then. Hawthorn glanced at it, then looked back at Chaceledon. "They are well. They've returned to Floiland after their annual expedition to Pedeo, and asked that I pass along thanks for the use of your estate there should the opportunity arise."

Hawthorn straightened in his seat and called out, "Enter!"

A pet came in, stood by the door, and bowed. "The supplies for the trip are gathered and waiting at the flight pad. Master Hickory is nearly finished with his notes and tests. Mistress Hyssop needs a little longer for her correspondence, but thinks she can be finished within the next half hour."

"Very good," Hawthorn nodded. "Chaceledon, do you need to send word to your mate that you will not be back for another day?"

He wasn't sure if Seikilos would be heading back to Hedoni that same day or waiting until Chaceledon finished this business with Nica.


Hyssop swore under her breath as she tore through books in her library. Nehmaji had not been studied adequately at all, but there were a few sources about the role it played in dragon development. The book she was looking was ancient, nearly falling apart, and so help her if anything had happened to it--there! Tucked back behind several other books in a deep corner.

The Necessity and Rituals of Awakening a Dragon's Inner Fire, and the Consequences of Neglect by Willow Prunella.

She flipped through it, and begrudgingly made a few marks in the margins at passages of note, then set it into a box she'd prepared. It had a false bottom, and she replaced the bottom so it hid the book, then covered it with dried ginseng root.

Hyssop plopped down at her desk, and quickly scrawled a short letter.

For the matter we discussed before. I believe you need to uncover an issue hidden beneath the surface.

She included instructions for using the ginseng--he didn't really need it, but it wouldn't harm him--and signed off as:

Hyssop, Physician Rank 4 of Dahn Prunella

"I hope he understands the clues," Hyssop muttered under her breath as she finished packing the parcel and addressing it. Mother never checked the outgoing mail from the clinic, so she shouldn't catch on that Hyssop was sending something to Cassius as long as she properly bribed the pets.
 
Chaceledon looked utterly taken aback. There were those supporting dragons who went hedahn? Not even a son or daughter but a dahnesh? He couldn’t dare hope! It clearly wasn’t a joke if they knew Carnelia would thank him for the use of the Lion House. He covered his mouth with a hand as someone knocked on the door. He had a line to Carnelia. It was real. It wasn’t just a nicety to drop by their home. He could do it, even if he was part of dragon society.

He desperately wanted to ask more questions, but the pet emerged. He nodded. “Dahna Seikilos will pass along that I’ve decided to stay another day, I’m sure.” He said, rising from his chair. “If things are ready I suppose we’d best be going. I want to be prepared to leave as soon as Hyssop is.” He looked at Hawthorn. So much to say, and no time to say it. “Thank you.” He said gratefully. “I may pass along some letters for her.”

Chaceledon made his way slowly to the landing pad, thinking. If he became hedahn, there wasn’t a guarantee he’d be cut off from Peridot and Cassius forever. Was Carnelia speaking with them? Cassius perhaps. Peridot…Hokkaido would kill her if he found a letter from Carnelia. Of that he was absolutely certain. He sighed and took the weight off his foot, leaning against a wall near the landing pad to wait.
 
"Just be discreet," Hawthorn told Chaceledon, "and I hope you are able to help Nica."

The pet followed discreetly behind Chaceledon all the way to the landing pad. She would be accompanying them to Dahn Abalone.

Hickory was only moments behind her, and she stood near Chaceledon, taking her master's clothes and placing them in a satchel as he stripped down to shift.

"We packed a change of robes for you," she told Chaceledon. "Though they are rather plain."

When Hickory shifted, the pet helped him into a clever harness that allowed for luggage to be hooked to him. Hickory's dragon form was a deep blue from head to tail with a white mane and tail tufts. His tail swished impatiently.

As the pet loaded the last of the luggage into him, Hyssop appeared.

"You two go ahead," she told them, reaching for her collar. "We'll be right behind you."

"Come on up," Hickory told Chaceledon, lowering his head and neck to make it easier for him to climb on.

Hyssop shifted just after Hickory leapt into the air. The pet climbed into her back, and then they were off.
 
GChaceledon watched the harnessing with a bit of horrified fascination. The designer in him saw it as a lovely little take on a rucksack or satchel. A little embossing here, maybe a little bleaching and a light blue dye to match Hickory’s handsome scales, and it would be fit to wear. The other part of him screamed ‘saddle’ in a small, horrified voice. He made sure to check the luggage, fussing over the straps. Ergh, who had chosen sensible materials for this? Why not stamped brass and lambskin? He could really modify these bags to be slimmer.

He caught himself, and climbed on with a blush coloring his cheeks. Climbing onto Hickory, and arranging himself politely on the dragon’s shoulders, made the trip more real. He was quite at home in the air, and busied himself with braiding his long hair back so it didn’t whip wildly in the wind. After a few hours he used the last of the dying light to check his foot. It really did feel better. Less feverish to be sure.

As they approached Seaworth, stones dropped into his belly. The estate had always suffered erosion; one didn’t build near the sea without it. Salt and brine had always gathered on the stones, and the garden had never tolerated much more than carefully manicured beach grass and fountains. However, the fountains were silent and dry, choked by the desert. The beach grass had spilled over its beds and rapidly consumed the grounds, so much so that Chaceledon couldn’t see any walkways from the air.

A storm had damaged the east wing of the house badly, and the roof had collapsed. Nica’s mother had a solar there, and Chaceledon was disappointed to see the bookshelves thrown apart like toys and pages blowing in the wind. The central wing wasn’t much better; without pets to keep it up salt had crusted over the stone, rusted the front door, and cracked the wood. Chaceledon’s brow furrowed in concern. It didn’t look like anyone lived here at all!

He cast his eye to the upper rooms, and saw steam billowing from ceiling vents along the seaward side of the home. The hotbed! Was it truly occupied, or was the water just boiling dry like a forgotten kettle? Chaceledon pointed out the landing, which had once been a charming circular porch with wisterias wafting sweet scents on the salty wind. Those plants had long since withered and died without a gardener’s care, and the desiccated vines seemed to be the only things holding the trellises together.

Chaceledon winced as they set down; several wine bottles rolled off the porch and hit the beach.

“Good gods.” He whispered, and went for the shattered doors leading in. The fragments hanging off of them implied there had once been a lovely piece of artwork there, and stained glass pieces littered the floor. Chaceledon stepped over them cautiously; a storm must have broken the glass. Inside, sand and sea air had taken over the foyer, and most of the great hall. A ship’s maidenhead depicting a mermaid holding a strand of blown glass pearls looked down on them from the ceiling. Magelamps guttered low, the spells nearly spent. The mosaic tile floor was intact, with beautiful images of sea dragons in the waves, but it was filthy.

“Nica!” Chaceledon threw open the glass doors to the kitchen. It had been cooked in, recently. Dishes piled to the ceiling, pots and pans were molding in inches of filthy water in a wash bin, and the stove had the last gasps of a cooking fire sputtering soot filled sparks all over the floor; he’d overloaded the hopper. Chaceledon put his hand over his mouth at the stench. The food here was rotting and getting worse, and the only things occupying the once-grand dining table were legions of empty bottles. Without servants and any knowledge of how to fend for himself, the dragon had fallen to the mercy of his pets. When they obviously left for Pedeo, sensing the death of the estate, he’d broken apart entirely.

Chaceledon gagged and turned away from the kitchen. “Come with me, his rooms are upstairs…hurry.” He gasped to Hickory and Hyssop. He grabbed the ear of a great sea dragon sculpture bursting from mahogany waves, mounting the half-broken stairs.

Upstairs, Oor looked up from his book. He’d cleaned his room, washed the sheets and cleared out all the empty wine bottles and dishes. Gods, what a disgusting slob Nica was. He tested his ankles; he’d broken both of them when he’d first visited the disgraced water dragon, but he could repair this body just as elegantly as he did Rheinhard’s. There were still telltale signs; the wound on his chest was fresh and throbbed angrily. There was no bond to a master; this time, it was merely his old seal.

Oor had carved out the seal carefully, and used the disc of bone as a touchstone for the Well. The same magic that helped a soul ‘stick’ to a body anchored him to this one. If he was careful, and hid that bone seal well, he could live for centuries. Millennia, perhaps…in a new dragon body.

He laid aside the book and looked out one of the stained glass windows. Gods, visitors? What now? Scavengers come to fetch Nica’s corpse? They hardly looked dressed for a funeral.

Chaceledon…

A surge of longing from Nica.

“If you want him you’ll have to be good for me.” Oor whispered with Nica’s voice. “You’ll have to be sweet, and pliant, his perfect frail little dove. We have to pull him in; he was always a sucker for the wounded ones. I need his estate to reclaim my own, and you want a dahnesh. We can both win here. Understood?”

Acceptance from the new Well. Good.

“Can you keep me a secret? Betray me and you’ll never see or smell the sea again, do you understand me? I can put you to sleep forever, and use your soul to power this body.” Oor growled.

I won’t disobey, I promise. Please! I have to see him…

“Good boy.” Oor relinquished control.

A surge of nausea washed over Nica and he stumbled to the washroom, vomiting blood into the sink. He would have to get used to the feeling. There was magic violently carving out spaces in his head and heart, wrapping it in barbed wire strings of shadow. It would hurt for weeks. Nica made to wipe his mouth and his hands refused to obey him.

No. It makes you look more credible. Now go crumple on the bed.

Nica shivered, looking up at the smeared mirror. He could see shadows gathering around him. He tore his eyes away and stumbled across the room to his bowl-shaped bed. It was clearly built for lounging, ring shaped with a generous cushion and cushions around the rim. He laid his head on one, careful not to let his bloody mouth touch the fabric. He’d tried, even in the depths of sickness, to keep his bed clean.
 
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Hyssop made the flight in mostly silence, speaking only when the pet inquired something of her. But when they reached the former estate of Dahn Abalone, her heart sank.

Surely it was long abandoned with the state it was in. She'd heard rumors that Nica frequented Ragash... surely he was there.

They landed, and Hickory gave Hyssop a hesitant look over one shoulder as Chaceledon slid off his back. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, then shifted back to her human form and dressed once the pet had slid off her back.

By the time they were both reclothed, Chaceledon had already made his way inside. The siblings followed after him, leaving the pet outside to watch the supplies.

"Gods..." Hyssop muttered under her breath as they went from room to room, taking in the sight of complete dishevelment and ruin.

They were practically on Chaceledon's heels as he started up the stairs.

"Wait!" Hickory hissed to Chaceledon. "Even if there is someone here, there's no guarantee it's Nica. Don't just go darting into rooms!"

Hyssop slowed her steps, pausing to observe and listen at the doorways they passed. Something... felt off. But she couldn't quite pinpoint what. Just that something was skewed. Unnatural.
 
Chaceledon rushed up the stairway, ignoring Hickory’s warning. Had he been paying attention, had he noticed…the estate was far too cold. Perhaps it was because he had spent so long in the cold underground, but he barely felt the strength sapping out of his skin. The stones in a dragon household should have felt warm and welcoming, as though just out of the sun. Instead they were cold and dead.

The upstairs split off into two wings, meant to imitate the fluke of a whale. The left led to the damaged wing, where sand and air blew in. The right had an intact floor. As Hyssop looked carefully into the doorways they passed, guest rooms were untouched and had been for centuries. They were quietly falling apart, neatly and tidily as though waiting for guests. There was a library on the upper floor that had been the target of one of Nica’s tantrums; ancient tomes littered the floor. Glass from a large ship in a bottle was sprayed all over the fallen books, along with the listing corpse of the broken model.

As Chaceledon veered right, he passed Nica’s old room and grabbed the doorway to stop himself. Nothing. The room was empty, and painfully so. Had Nica taken over the master bedroom in light of his parents’ deaths?

The master bedroom consumed half of the east wing’s upper floor. There was a generous bedroom, closet, bathroom, solar and study. Even a kitchenette, which had come in use for evening tea time. The impressive double doors were repurposed timber from an old war galley, thick and dark with age.

Chaceledon stopped, and winced. His foot throbbed angrily to remind him running had been a poor idea, and he immediately took his weight off it. He stubbornly grasped the brass knobs of the master bedroom, and tugged open the doors.

Oh thank the gods. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, and while the room was messy it looked halfway clean. Nica had strung laundry up by the solar to dry in the sun, and had kept the bathroom somewhat clean. He immediately recognized the crumpled form on the bed.

“He’s here! Quickly! Hyssop, Hickory!” Chaceledon called, and hurried to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bowl and pulled Nica into his lap, brushing his short hair back. Gods, he was thin even by dragon standards. His hair was dull like he was preparing to shed his skin. Was that blood on his mouth? He looked terrible.
 
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Hickory and Hyssop were somber, mouths drawn tight and nostrils flaring, as they made their way through the manor.

Both of them had been here before while Dahn Abalone was still vibrant and thriving, many millennia ago now. It was eerie and chilling to see what it had become.

"It's like staring into our future," Hyssop muttered with a shiver. "Every estate will be like this eventually if we can't figure out the birth issues."

Hickory just grunted, then frowned as he saw Chaceledon take his weight off his foot. He hastened his steps to catch up, but Chaceledon had darted off again before he reached him, pushing open a set of doors and vanishing within.

Hyssop shivered. "Is it just me or is it far colder than one would expect in here?" she asked Hickory when she caught up to him.

"It's cold," Hickory confirmed. "If there's a dragon here--" He was cut off before he could finish his thought.

Chaceledon said:
“He’s here! Quickly! Hyssop, Hickory!” Chaceledon called, and hurried to the bed.
Click to expand...

The two siblings eyed each other with surprise, then darted into the master suite. Hyssop covered her mouth in shock at the sight of Nica. Hickory darted over and began checking Nica's vital signs.

"Hyssop, have the pet start heating water," Hickory barked out. "And bring blankets. If there's any rocks outside still warm from the sun, bring those too. He's far too cold."

Hyssop nodded and spun on her heel, heading back outside.

"Nica, can you hear me?" Hickory asked, his voice gentle. "Do you remember when you last ate?"
 
Chaceledon brushed his fingers through Nica’s hair and kissed his forehead. His poor sweet water beauty…how cruel he’d been to him! If he’d known Nica was living like this, shunned by other dragons, instead of living the life of a man who’d been handed his Dahn to him on a silver platter, he’d have come much sooner. He rooted around and found a towel, dabbing away the blood around Nica’s mouth.

“Why aren’t you in the hotbed? You poor thing…” Chaceledon crooned. Nica blinked, and looked up at himself and Hickory with wide turquoise eyes. Chaceledon had always loved those eyes; pure green blue like a tropical sea on a warm day. They were filled with surprise.

“Ate? What a rude question…” Nica mumbled.

“Please answer him, Nica. This is Hickory of Dahn Prunella. He’s a doctor. He’s here to help.” Chaceledon explained gently.

“Yesterday?” Nica had been instructed not to eat before he’d taken the new spell from Oor. The wraith had turned out to be wise in that; he’d vomited bile for hours. The wound on his chest! He clasped his dressing gown about his chest; it wasn’t an unusual gesture given he wasn’t dressed for company. “I’m not decent…”

“It’s alright dear, Hyssop and Hickory are unmarried too. Consider us all chaperoning each other.” Chaceledon said soothingly. He looked up at Hickory. “I think he’s been in the hotbed recently; he’s a water dragon, he’d be more dried out if he didn’t. Gods I wish I was paying more attention when he was telling me about it…all I remember is that both sexes can lay eggs and he needs seawater often…”

“Don’t be crass..” Nica admonished him, and groaned.
 
The confusion Nica expressed was... worrying.

"We met a few times before," Hickory reminded Nica. "Though we were both much younger then."

Hickory discreetly perused what he could see of Nica's body as Chaceledon rambled. Even if he had eaten yesterday, he'd clearly not been eating enough--even by draconian standards him quite some time.

"Did you ever get the things my father sent?" Hickory asked gently as he took Nica's wrist and settled his fingertips against his pulse. "He was worried when you never wrote back or accepted the invitations he sent."

He eyed Chaceledon dubiously though. The older dragon was treating Nica more like a lover, and if he didn't want to get Nica's hopes up... well. It wasn't really his concern.


Hyssop worked with the pet for a while. The sun was rapidly dropping below the horizon, and the luggage needed to be brought inside. The stove had to be amended and the fire stoked, and then a clean container found for water. That was the most difficult part.

Events, she left the disaster of the kitchen in the pet's capable hands, though they clearly should have brought more of them, and went out to gather warm rocks.

When she'd found a few, she hauled them up in her arms. A benefit to being a dragon was greater strength, for sure, and stopped to grab Hickory's medical kit.

She grunted when as she lugged everything into the bedroom and dropped the warm boulders into the bed, being careful not to crush Nica.

"Here," she panted. "The pet should be up with warm water soon too."
 
Nica could sense how nervous Oor was, and he made an attempt to sit up. He kept his robes closed, and while he was shaky and nauseous, he couldn’t give them a reason to look at him too closely. He allowed Hickory to press his fingers against his wrist. They were slender and birdlike, and his pulse was racing. Usually a cold dragon would have a sluggish, even pulse. Nica’s was racing like he was too hot, erratic and jumpy.

He made another attempt to sit up properly when Hickory mentioned the charity, lifting his chin. Oh. Oh that made the room spin. Chaceledon caught him and guided him to lean against his chest. Nica hesitated for a moment. Chaceledon felt stronger. More confident to be sure. He wasn’t even wearing a corset; Nica could feel his chest and stomach through the robes.

“I sent them away, or gave them to the pets when they left.” Nica said. “Dahn Abalone won’t be sending pets to Pedeo in rags or unfed. I don’t need anyone’s charity.”

Chaceledon sighed and rubbed Nica’s arms. “You could have at least eaten a little rice.” He chided gently. He looked up when Hyssop entered and blinked. “Hyssop! That’s not ladylike!”

He caught himself, blushing. He wouldn’t have admonished Seteta for doing such a thing would he? No. He should be treating Hyssop the same. “I….sorry. Thank you.” Chaceledon helped gather the stones around Nica, who flinched a bit. They were warm, and after a few seconds the sick dragon relaxed against them.

“My sheets…” Nica protested weakly.

“They’ll be cleaned.” Chaceledon dismissed. Damn the expensive bamboo sheets. Gods, he couldn’t believe that thought that crossed his mind. “Nica, this is Hyssop, your other doctor. I can fix you something to eat?”

Nica grimaced and leaned over the side of the bed, retching up more blood and bile. His chest burned, and memories were like soap through his fingers. Oor reassured him it would settle.
 
Nica's vitals were odd. His pulse was racing far too much for a cold dragon, unless he was nervous about something. But even then, it shouldn't be this erratic.

His eyes narrowed when Nica tried to sit up, the water dragon swaying and eyes going unfocused. Dizziness could be explained by the malnutrition, but vomiting blood?

"I need to check the inside of your lips and eyelids," Hickory told Nica, keeping his voice gentle and soothing as he set Nica's wrist down on the bed sheets. "Do you recall what you've eaten recently? Vomiting blood is rather worrisome." Nica was in rough enough shape that a bout of food poisoning could be deadly.

He shot Chaceledon a warning glance when he commented on Hyssop's behavior.

"I don't exactly see either of you men doing this," Hyssop practically snarled at Chaceledon. "And I'm not a lady right now, I'm a physician."

She sniffed at Chaceledon's apology, but still worked with him to arrange the stones around Nica, cushioning them with blankets so they didn't press uncomfortably against the water dragon. Gods, he was so bony.

She swore quietly and jumped away from the bed as Nica leaned over the side and vomited. She tossed the first clean cloth within her reach to Chaceledon, then started sorting through Hickory's medical kit. They needed something to help with the vomiting first.

"You need food on your stomach so you're not vomiting straight bile," Hyssop said worriedly. "But the kitchen's a disaster. Our pet is starting in cleaning it up, but it'll be a while."

His teeth were going to be in rough shape if the vomiting didn't let up soon.

"Here," she pressed a bottle of tincture into Hickory's hand. It was made of several different herbs, a special secret blend of Dahn Prunella that could stop vomiting almost in its tracks, but depending on Hickory's diagnoses, it might not be appropriate.

It would just take a few drops held under the tongue.
 
Chaceledon grabbed the cloth and dabbed delicately at the blood, cleaning Nica’s mouth. “You’re alright…” he helped him sit back up, arranging the cushions to prop him up a bit. He winced at Hyssop’s tongue-lashing…alright, he’d deserved that one. Once he was sure Nica wasn’t about to fall over he straightened and let Hickory take over. Nica sighed and used a finger to tug down his eyelids, showing Hickory each one in turn. They were pale, slightly anemic, but he wasn’t bleeding from them.

His mouth, however, had healing cuts. Before they had come up with the plan to get Chaceledon back, Oor had…taken advantage of his position, There were claw marks on the inside of Nica’s cheek, and healing bruises in the back of his throat where Oor had been less than kind. Nica sighed, and took the tincture without complaint. It settled his stomach, and soothed some of the cramping in his guts.

“I’m going to try and help with the kitchen. Get you some tea.” Chaceledon said worriedly.

“Don’t have any.” Nica muttered.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t have any fucking tea, Chaceledon. I’m broke! I ran out of tea months ago. Along with coffee, wine, whiskey and whatever else!” Nica snarled. “I have half a bag of rice, and since the spells on the cold box malfunctioned I haven’t had the courage to open it.”

Chaceledon felt horror settle in his stomach. Oh gods. Without that cold box, the heat of the desert would get to any meat or fish left there. He prayed for the pet’s sake the flesh had decomposed quickly enough not to stink.

Tears welled up in Nica’s eyes. “I’ve been fishing off the pier just to get by…” he sniffled.

“You ought to handle some rice gruel.” Chaceledon patted Nica’s knee, and headed downstairs. He would need to change into the plainer robes Prunella had brought with him. Imagine. Chaceledon of Dahn Peridot, about to scrub dishes! His mother would have had a heart attack.

Nica looked at Hyssop and Hickory. He was terrified they’d want to examine him fully. The wound in his chest burned. He had healing cuts on his hips from Oor’s claws and bruises around his thighs. His ankles hadn’t healed quite right. They were healed, but had obviously been broken horribly at one point. He could walk, at least. Oor wouldn’t have crippled his new home.

Inside his skull he could feel Oor crawling around. Sifting through memories, and carving out spaces. The spell constructing itself in his soul was gigantic and complex, but now it was coming to fruition. If he tried hard enough he could feel the rooms in his head. A bedroom, a library, an office, a kitchen…it was going to be like another estate. Nica winced. Gods, it hurt.

Sit tight. Finishing the garden. Oor told him, and a stabbing pain rose between his ear and eye. Nica whimpered, holding his head and curling up. Stop being such a baby. More stabbing pain, and blood trickled from one of his nostrils.
 
"We brought tea in our supplies," Hyssop said, though she kept her horror at Nica's description of the kitchen out of her voice. Just a few moments later, she and Hickory were left alone with Nica.

Hickory eyed Nica worriedly. The other dragon was clearly terrified and hiding something. Simple malnourishment didn't cause many of the symptoms he was exhibiting, and it was confirmed a moment later when Nica curled up, whimpering in pain.

"What th--" Hyssop muttered, darting to Nica's side and pressing a cloth to his nose. "Tip your head back," she said soothingly, stroking his hair with one hand. "That'll help stop the nosebleed."

Hickory's gaze turned viciously scrupulous as he watched while Hyssop tended to the bloody nose. Nica's movements were slow and halting, but not like someone who was weak from starvation.

"Where are you wounded?" he asked sharply. If there was any broken skin, with the state Nica was currently in, his risk of infection was very, very high.
 
Nica tipped his head back, feeling like he had rocks in his skull. His head felt heavy, and he helped clasp the cloth to his nose. Gods, he hoped none of it had gotten on the sheets! He winced. Just a moment longer. I’m fixing that hole in your chest. Then you can rest. Oor told him dismissively. The sharp burning reached a crescendo, searing deep into his breastbone and pulling the flesh away from naked bone. Shadows covered the ivory, staining the bone like ink, and the raw skin settled as scar tissue. With a painfully loud pop in his skull, his head cleared.

Nica pulled in a breath. The rag was soaked, but his head was clear. It had settled. I’ll finish the last of the rooms later. I’m not entirely happy with the baths but it’ll do. Your memories have settled in. Oor informed him. Let them look. We are tied together now, soul to soul.

Cold fear washed over Nica, the sense that he had made a terrible mistake in his quest to win back Chaceledon. He looked up at Hyssop, then his pretty eyes flicked to Hickory. Gods. He shakily took the cloth away from his nose, folding it to make sure nothing dripped on the bed. “Im not…” he said feebly. “I just haven’t eaten…”
 
Hyssop bit back an incredulous laugh as she wiped away the remnants of blood from Nica's face.

Hickory just gave him a humoring look.

"Don't lie," Hickory rumbled. "You're shrinking into the bed and pulling your robe around you in a way that only someone who wants to make sure they aren't seen does."

His eyes traveled over Nica's form, but not in a seductive or demeaning way, but an investigative one.

"You flinch when your hips are in one spot for too long," Hickory stated. "You move your legs as if your feet are barely attached to them."

"Not to mention the bloody nose," Hyssop muttered as she finished cleaning his face and then sat to the side. "Your eyes are barely focusing either. You look like you have a concussion."

"You can tell us the truth and let us treat you privately," Hickory said, "or I'm sure Chaceledon will catch on before too long and you'll have to explain it all to him."
 
Nica drew himself up enough to glare at Hyssop. For a fleeting moment, a shadow of his former self, haughty, young and beautiful, eyed her with disdain. That look swiftly traveled to Hickory. “Of course I don’t want to be seen. Would you want to be seen like this? By unmarried members of another Dahn no less?” He asked viciously, and struggled to sit up a little more properly.

They won’t know what they’re looking at. Rheinhard would never let a doctor examine him. Oor told him. They won’t let up. Go on.

Nica hesitated. Even if they didn’t know, Chaceledon surely would. Swear them to secrecy. They’re doctors, aren’t they?

“Fine.” He admitted. “But I have to ask you, to swear on your Dahn and scales, on your professions as doctors, that you’ll never tell a soul.”

A story began weaving itself in his head. Nica had swiftly learned the value of a well-spun lie from Chaceledon. He had watched his lover twist merchants and the lesser sons and daughters of other dahns around his finger. Who was to say a lone dragon hadn’t been attacked? Volta showed a clear motive to rid themselves of the water dragons especially after the deaths of his parents. He slowly unwrapped the robe, and let it gather around his elbows.

His breastbone was clearly seen, surrounded by angry pink scars. His chest was sallow and devoid of muscle, as the Well had burned up most of the tissue there taking hold. He was practically skeletal. Nica looked at them challengingly. He had scars around his hips, though he covered most of it to satisfy dignity.
 
Oh for... Hyssop sighed and glared. "We are not here as eligible unmarried dragons," she snipped. "We are both here as physicians, and we have our own code of honor that we are bound by while we wear these plain robes."

Every dragon knew that. Well, perhaps with the exception of Chaceledon. He'd been gone during the years when Dahn Prunella had formalized a lot of their current practices.

Their robes when on duty as physicians was one of the first things that had been established, though, and she thought it had happened before Dahn Abalone had... crumbled. But maybe she was wrong.

She did, though, sigh with relief when spoke.

"We might consult with other physicians," Hickory clarified. "Hyssop and I are still under the supervision of our father and a few others. But we will keep you anonymous unless we need to bring in someone else because your life is in danger."

He frowned as Nica slipped the robe off his shoulders. Hyssop bit back a gasp.

"Were you assaulted?" Hickory asked somberly, without condescension or pity in his voice. "How long ago?"

Who could have raped a dragon? Hyssop wondered. She couldn't think of any other dragons who would do something like that to the last surviving member of a Dahn. No. Not who. What could have done that?

She quietly turned away to give Nica a little more privacy and began sitting through Hickory's medical kit again, pulling out appropriate salves and ointments.
 
Nica pulled the robes reflexively back over his shoulders, clearing his throat. For a moment, he contemplated telling them everything. For a moment he wanted to grab Hickory’s hand and beg him for forgiveness. He’d only wanted to have Chaceledon, and now he wasn’t so sure that the wraith would deliver on that promise. But what could they do?

A little pressure between his ears told him to abandon that line of thinking. For better or for worse, he had no choice but to trust that the wraith would deliver him his beloved. He looked down, chewing his lip a moment. “It was a while ago. I’m healed now. It happened while I was out fishing; I wasn’t strong enough and got caught in a net. I tried to shift back to tell the fishermen what they’d caught but…” the lie caught in his throat a moment, and he fell silent. “Whatever you need to do…do it.”

Nica consented to letting them examine him. He was nervous, and flinched away from their touch, but in the end he did his best to relax and see if they could help. Chaceledon returned with some rice gruel and tea from their supplies, cautioning Nica to eat it slowly. Surprisingly, the water dragon didn’t seem to have the same restrictions on portions that Chaceledon did; he ate the entire thing.

“We’ll stay the night, make sure you’re back on your feet.” Chaceledon told Nica gently. “You really do need to accept food, at least until you can get something going for yourself. You can’t cower here forever.” He kissed Nica’s forehead.

“My room’s the only one without the roof falling in.” Nica said softly, feeling his heart tug at the kiss to his forehead. Perhaps Chaceledon felt something for him still.

“I suppose we can make do with cushions on the floor.” Chaceledon tutted.

“You could…well…it would keep all of us warm.” Nica gestured to the bed. “I’ve kept it clean.”

Chaceledon hesitated, looking at the doctors. It was a fair point. Nica was going to have trouble staying warm once those stones cooled, since reptiles didn’t generate their own body heat. His inner fire must have been guttering dangerously low to get that cold, and Hyssop and Hickory both blazed bright with health.
 
Hickory's eyes softened imperceptibly. He... understood, somewhat, why Nica hadn't accepted his father's help but if he'd taken it... he would have never suffered like this. Hyssop was right that the dragons were in danger of going extinct, but he thought it would be just as much because of pride as it was infertility.

He and Hyssop worked together quickly. They tended wounds and checked cuts and abrasions to make sure they were not infected. Hickory asked questions to make sure... nothing had torn, but it had been long enough since the incident happened that it seemed everything was fine. By the time Chaceledon returned, Hyssop had found a relatively clean change of robes for Nica and they had him tucked back in bed.

Hyssop put the medical kit back in order while Nica ate. Hickory was quietly jotting down patient notes and then a separate list of foods for the pet to make for the water dragon. They would need to figure out something about the malfunctioning cold box, though...

Hyssop looked up with an arched brow at Nica's suggestion, then narrowed her eyes at Chaceledon.

"Nica will sleep between me and Hickory," she said decisively. "You can sleep at our feet. You're the one here who has a fiancé."

"Sounds fine to me," Hickory muttered as he looked up from his notes. "We just need to make sure the pet has someplace warm enough to sleep in the kitchen."
 
They settled down awkwardly to sleep. Chaceledon, to Nica’s disappointment, stayed fully clothed and firmly on Hyssop’s other side. Nica had to admit, sandwiched between two healthy dragons was warm, and soft. He let down his guard just a bit, and snuggled his face against Hickory’s chest. He curled an arm up over the doctor, and laid there quietly, soaking up the heat Hickory was offering. “…Are you really going to leave tomorrow? Would you take me with you? This house is so quiet…” He asked in a quiet, scared voice, looking up at Hickory. It was easy to see how beautiful Nica had once been; his turquoise eyes were clear and large, his lips full even though his cheeks were sallow. His skin had once been the color of milk, but all the fishing had given him a tawny blush across his shoulders and face. He was developing a charming smattering of freckles across his nose.

“…Thank you. For helping.” He sighed, and rested his cheek against Hickory’s chest. With the warmth of the three dragons nestled together in the bowl shaped bed, he closed his eyes. Peaceful sleep, unfortunately, wasn’t in the cards.

He dropped into a marble foyer. It was beautifully carved, simple with little flourishes of onyx tile and wisps of shadowy wood. There was an inch of water across the floor, and Nica looked down at it in interest.

“Your influence, I’m afraid.” Oor came out of the darkness. He was looking more and more draconian by the minute. Gone was the withered ghoul. In its place was a man unspeakably cold and beautiful, with jet hair that hung past his hips and hard green eyes. “Come see what I’ve done. You’re forbidden in there, of course, that is my office.” Oor gestured to a dark wooden door. It had panels of thick sea glass, but they were frosted over enough that Nica couldn’t see inside.

Oor gestured impatiently toward a door to the left of the office, and lightly pushed it open. A wide expanse of black tiles stretched out in an oval, the upper echelons of the room swallowed in black shadow. “You and I must learn to blend our magic together. Shadow and water are not so different after all. You’re no longer the shallow, sunny seas. You’re the black depths where few creatures dare tread.” Oor smirked. Nica poked his head inside. The water was still, too still, and the black tile made it look more like ink than water. He pulled away, hesitant.

The next room was much prettier. A small but complex garden of water features, bonsai, sand, and a tea house with rich dark wood. One wall was made of drawers with neat little stamps for tea, and Nica got the feeling this hadn’t been made from creativity alone. This was a copy of a real place, somewhere. He picked up a tea pet from the low table, turning the little ceramic dog in his fingers.

“We never had a tea room half this nice.” He said politely, and set the tea pet back in its place.

“Of course not. My Dahn, whatever remains of it, were the originators of our culture surrounding tea. We were the first to have rooms like this.” Oor said proudly. “It’s somewhere civilized we can talk, that isn’t this foul desert.”

Then a bedroom. A wide and dark room with glass floats repurposed into lamps. Nica thought it a strange blend of his own style and Oor’s; there was a yawning shark maw above the bed that leered threateningly over the cushions, the rug was made of sea grass, and the walls were such a dark blue they might as well be black. The bones of fish and other aquatic monsters served as decor, including an impressive set of whale jaws that served as a seat.

“But I’m already asleep…” Nica muttered.

Oor set a firm hand on the back of his neck, and steered him toward the bed. “This is where I remind you of your place in this arrangement.”

_____________________

In the morning, Chaceledon politely took his leave. He pulled Hyssop aside and promised to fund whatever Nica needed from his own pocket. He had to return to Seteta, but he couldn’t leave Nica entirely alone either. He wanted the doctors to tend to him, at least for a little while, and perhaps take him to Dahn Prunella to recover. He didn’t expect to part with Seikilos; he’d embarrassed her and she’d want to stay a day or two to make her amends to her friend.

Nica had watched him leave with sad eyes. Of course, he’d see him at the ceremony. He wasn’t letting Seteta snatch Chaceledon away without a fight. But it still hurt to watch the beautiful jeweler leave without kissing him goodbye. He had a vicious headache, and a small nosebleed he was trying delicately to hide from Hickory. Oor hadn’t let him sleep but a few hours, and he felt less rested than he had before they’d slept.

“I…I can help with water for the kitchen?” He offered an olive branch to Hickory, embarrassed at the state of the kitchen.
 
Hickory found a few spare moments to help Chaceledon tend to his foot for the evening. Hyssop lugged the stones back out of the bed, then helped the pet in the kitchen for a little bit before they all headed to bed.

"I think it would be best if you came with us," Hickory murmured sleepily, though he tensed for a moment as Nica tucked himself against the doctor's side. "It's not good for anyone to be alone with just their thoughts in a place like this."

Hyssop and Hickory both fell asleep quickly, worn out from the unexpected long flight.

In the morning, Chaceledon left fairly quickly, though Hyssop would have liked to see him eat first.

The remaining trio of dragons wandered down to the kitchen, where the pet had made an impressive amount of progress overnight. The floor was swept, though there were still mysterious stains everywhere, the stove was still stoked and hot, and the foodstuffs had been sorted through.

Most of what was in the house was spoiled, but she'd managed to dig out some rice, salt, and seasonings, and she'd gone to fish off the dock herself.

Enough space had been cleared and scrubbed and enough dishes salvaged for everyone to sit and eat, but not much more.

Three steaming bowls of rice with blackened fish on top, and a pot of tea, waited for the dragons. The pet had already eaten before her masters were awake.

"I think she has figured out the water already," Hickory stated with an appreciative smile at the pet. "Besides, didn't you want to come back to Dahn Prunella with us?"


Seteta was surprised but smiled softly when Rheinhard curled up next to Ausar.

Her father stirred, reaching up to rub his eyes.

"It's just me and Rheinhard, mit," she said quietly, crawling up onto bed on the opposite side and settling her head against Ausar's shoulder. "Are you feeling better? I... heard what happened."

Ausar slipped his arm under her back and twisted to kiss Seteta's forehead.

"The pain is nearly gone," Ausar murmured, "just tired now."

Seteta sighed with relief. "Good," she whispered, and then after a moment's pause, she told him about her visit with Nestor. About how insecure and frightened Nestor was, and about his request to be... seen as himself as he taught the Inizae.

"It would be less confusing, probably, for everyone," Ausar muttered. "I'm... just not sure if the execution of it. Especially since I need to have illusion magic to help with your challenge."

As for Nestor's personal issues... Ausar had definitely made some misjudgements, but he wasn't entirely sure how to begin fixing them yet.

"Rheinhard?" Ausar asked. "Can you tell me more about how this magic works between the Steward and the Well? How Nestor was able to draw on my magic?"

He wasn't sure if there was a good solution, a way to.. give the Volkers the ability to make an illusion when one of them inhabited Rheinhard's body.

But the Inizae had been gifted the illusion magic. So maybe it could be taught to the Well too. It would just... need restraints.
 
Nica looked gratefully at the pet. She really had done a fine job considering everything she’d had to deal with. Yet another reason to be thankful for Persian; the man trained exquisitely. Nica didn’t feel judged by the nature of the cleaning, only that a problem had been fixed. He sat quietly at the low table that had been cleared off, and while the cushions weren’t exactly clean they’d been fluffed and beaten clear of dust and sand.

Nica couldn’t really perform a good tea ceremony with a table not designed for it; gods knew where their tea table had gone. But he arranged the cups neatly, and instead of picking up the pot to pour, he touched the top delicately. A small, thin stream of tea rose from the kettle, and split into three, filling their cups. It wavered, and shivered, and about halfway through the stream collapsed entirely. Nica flushed, embarrassed. He couldn’t even pour tea now? He looked at his cup; the tea was cloudy and black with shadow.

He swiftly gathered the cups and dumped them out onto the floor, clearing his throat. “I…I’m not much for tea this morning I think.” He muttered, and picked up his bowl. He ate, delicately and slowly, deliberately taking small bites. “And..yes I suppose it would be wise for me to return with you.”

_________________________________

Rheinhard stirred sleepily, and lifted his head. He put some distance between himself and Ausar, resettling next to Seteta and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He took a few moments to think about the request. “Think of it like an umbilical cord. You keep us, and the Well, alive. While the souls power the Well, you are the sticking point for the magic. It’s why your magic colors the Well.” Rheinhard explained slowly. “We can take, if you keep the line open and allow us to. It let us heal whenever we got into trouble. But you can also take from us…and more so than we can take from you. Understand?” He touched the bond tentatively.

The energy that came from Rheinhard was a slow trickle, but it was cold. Cold, and black, and full of evil. There was very little that was good about the fabric of the Well, and it seeped across like pitch. It wouldn’t harm Ausar; it couldn’t. But it would feel wrong, alien.
 
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