Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Chaceledon didn’t know what to say, or if there was anything he could say. He just waited, looking up at the tree full of the dead. He’d...heard of these trees. Trees full of magic, from the souls of those strapped to it. But he hadn’t known how large they could be. He let himself be picked up, and carried back to their pool. He was somber, thinking. The amount of ivory he’d carved. He’d get rid of anything else in his collection. He looked over at Seteta as Marahute dropped him back in the slimy water.

The troll experimentally pressed the sides of the pool. Seteta’s magic held. “Dragon. At the bottom there are small stones and sticks. I need them retrieved.” Marahute told Chaceledon. The dragon gingerly approached the water. He breathed deeply, and dove down. Mud streamed off his figure, out of his hair, but gods he felt a little better. He began gathering stones, small sticks...he wasn’t sure exactly, but whatever detritus he could grab.

He worked back up to the surface and put them on the moss, taking in a deep breath. “Ew...ew ew ew...” he threw the sticks and stones away from him, immediately washing his hands. He climbed out, sitting on the moss.

“You said you could purify the water?” Marahute asked Seteta. “It is deep enough, but the water must be clear. Clear enough to drink.”

Seteta
 
"I can pull the loose sediment out of the water," Seteta explained. "And whatever impurities are attached to or attracted to it. If... if you have clay or sand, or preferably both, then I can run those through the water and pull out even more. Someone with skill in water magic could do more than I, since I am limited to manipulating the properties of earth. But I can do in minutes what it probably takes you days to do."

Marahute nodded, and turned away, beginning to rip into the swamplands with his tusks again, and digging up the rich clay she needed. As she waited for him to bring her the soils, she turned to Chaceledon and quietly slipped her hand into his.

"What you did was foolish, but admirable," she said to him. "You should have waited at least until we'd finished making amends for the spawning pool. And also... if you went into your... storage" --he hadn't yet explained to her about the pocket universe, she just knew that he'd somehow magically stored many of the items in his shop in Fal'Addas-- "you should have grabbed yourself some clothing. You must be freezing."

Marahute returned then, and she released Chaceledon's hand after giving it a gentle squeeze. She took the clay and sand the troll brought, sifting it through her hands and beginning to channel her magic through it. She started with just a handful of each, slowly mixing more and more together, until suspended in the air between her hands was a dense net of the particles. So dense that to most it would appear to be a solid block of earth, but to Seteta could feel the strands of magic between each grain of clay and sand.

Then, taking a deep breath as she focused her concentration, she cast her hands out with arms spread wide, and the 'net' of clay and sand expanded and dropped into the far end of the pool. Seteta closed her eyes, fingers twitching and arms making flowing movements as she concentrated on pulling the 'net' through the water, calling the stray sediment in the water to add itself to the net and using the strands of magic connecting it all to catch whatever she detected in the water but could not actually manipulate.

After several long, quiet minutes, she finally pulled the 'net' out of the water and back onto the bank. She forced the remaining water out of it, and finally was left with a solid block of earth.

Opening her eyes again, she took a deep breath and lowered herself to her knees before she fell. She'd done similar things before, purifying oases after they'd been contaminated or dirtied by mercenaries or sandstorms, and normally it didn't over exert her. But now, she was already exhausted, and there had been more than once during this portion when she felt the magic waver and almost vanish.

But the water in the pool was now sparkling and clear.

"That's the best I can do," she told Marahute.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon gave a small bit of snorting laughter. “And ruin silk? Please. I’d die before a textile I made gets slogged through this.” he gestured at the swamp, but smiled and squeezed Seteta’s hand before he let her go. He watched her cast her net, her magic pulling away all that dirt and muck. She took that cloudy green water he really didn’t want to think about soaking his hair...and made it crystalline. It was beautiful. It reminded him of aquamarine, a perfect cabochon of water tunneling deep into the muck that she had made beautiful.

Her falling broke him out of staring at it, and he hurried to grab her as she fell. He put his arm around her waist to support her, looking at the troll. Surely this was good enough.

Marahute examined the water and nodded. “It will do.” He told her. “It would take months of the mosses doing what you have done in minutes. Your debt is repaid.” He wandered around the perimeter, examining the water from every angle. Scrutinizing it.

Chaceledon was proud of her. He’d never be able to do this. Not in a thousand years. Even with Volker he would have broken down into tears. As Marahute took them up, and began to turn back towards where their cart supposedly was, Chaceledon felt...like he’d done something.

When Marahute stepped out of the swamp, next to the pool they’d ruined, Volker stood up. He’d been sitting on the mosses, bathed and clean. He regarded the troll carefully, drawing his longest blade. Marahute squatted down, and let down Seteta and the dragon. They were drenched and disgusting. Volker barely recognized Chaceledon, naked with stringy hair. The dragon made a beeline for the clean water and leapt into it. Volker tensed, but the troll shook his head.

“It is alright.” Marahute told them.
Volker turned and headed back to the wagon, pulling out a bundle wrapped in rope. He set it in front of the troll.

“I took them from Vel Anir.” Volker told him. Marahute picked up the bundle of tusks in one hand, and looked at them.

“You are a fae killer, then.” Marahute said quietly. “I can tell by the eyes. You go through this swamp, fae killer, and go quietly. Hunt nothing.”

Volker didn’t move. He watched Marahute disappear into the trees, and soon the sloshing of mud faded away. “You are alright?” Volker asked Seteta.

Chaceledon broke the surface. “I knew you’d be alright, Hardy dear.” he smiled and crossed his arms, resting his chin on them. Volker tossed him a hairbrush, and Chaceledon grinned widely.

Seteta
 
As soon as Marahute said the debt was paid, Seteta found herself collapsing into Chaceledon's arms. She wanted to stay there for a few moments, but then Marahute was gathering them up again, and as much as she wanted to sleep on the long walk back to the first pool, she also didn't want to fall off the troll's shoulder.

When they had finally been returned, Seteta slid less-than-gracefully off Marahute's shoulder, and tried to give the troll a polite nod before she sank to the ground in exhaustion. She heard more than saw Chaceledon's return to the pool that had gotten them into this mess in the first place, and vaguely heard Rheinhard's discussion with Marahute.

Chaceledon said:
“You are alright?” Volker asked Seteta.
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At Rheinhard's question, Seteta's brow wrinkled a little as she categorized everything that had happened and how she currently felt. "Yes," she murmured quietly. "Just very, very tired."

She watched quietly as Chaceledon surfaced, still felt her stomach flip at the sight, smiled at the interaction between him and Rheinhard. And realized, that as tired as she was, she was not going to be able to sleep while she smelled like algae and mud.

Slowly, fingers fumbling in her weariness, she unstrapped her knife from her thigh, then unlaced her leather boots, slipping them off with a grimace. Ruined. They'd not been waterproofed before they had to head to the swamps. She slipped off her stockings and slid her woolen coat--caked with mud--off her shoulders while she still sat, uncertain whether it could be cleaned.

Then she stood, tugged the linen tunic over her head and pushed down her pants, heedless of her nudity before both men. She swayed on her feet for just a moment, reached out to steady herself with the side of the wagon, and then slowly walked toward the pool of water. She carefully sat at the edge, dipping her feet in. Then she took a deep breath, and slipped into the water and under the surface.

For a moment, she let herself just... fall. The water embraced her, soaking into the dried and caked mud on her skin and in her hair, and then she reached out to touch her magic. It was barely present, whether because the only earth she was in contact with was the mud marring her skin or because the magic was faltering again was uncertain. But she didn't need much, and there was just enough for her to latch onto, and then push all the mud away from her and into the water, making it sink to the pool's floor faster than it normally would. Then she let the magic go, and gently bobbed to the surface of the water.

When her face broke the surface, she took a breath, then ducked below the surface again to smooth her hair back from her face. She found just enough energy to kick her way over to Chaceledon, twisting around him to loop her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder as she hooked her knees over his hips. Her own shoulders shook lightly with silent laughter as they momentarily bobbed beneath the surface of the water before he compensated for it.

"So tired," she whispered at last, but couldn't resist a few gentle, friendly nips to his collarbone before she closed her eyes to rest.

Chaceledon
 
Volker snorted and turned his head away as Seteta stripped and dove into the water. He watched the pair for a moment, Chaceledon brushing his hair. Seteta rising up behind him and leaping onto his back. The way Chaceledon reached back and smiled at her touch. Volker took a short trip to the cart to drop off their waterproofed clothing by the edge of the pool, and settled into the driver’s seat. He didn’t want to see them play.

Chaceledon cuddled Seteta against him, finishing brushing his hair. He even lowered her back into the water so he could get the tangles out of hers. He leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “We better get you into the back of the cart before you pass out.” he said affectionately. The bath was short, but Chaceledon made sure it was thorough, and he poured himself and damp Seteta into the back of the wagon. He did have the foresight to grab their new clothing on the way. “Where’s Rations?” he asked, noticing Mau hobbled.

Volker sighed. “Most likely dead.” He said quietly. “Or foundered and drowning. Rest. We will leave in the morning.”

Chaceledon curled up, and threw the bearskin over himself and Seteta. He kissed her nose affectionately, and closed his eyes. “This is the longest I’ve been naked when it wasn’t a wine orgy.” he joked.

Seteta
 
Seteta dozed quietly against Chaceledon in the water, barely catching his warning before he dipped her back under for a moment. As he gently combed the tangles out of her hair, the rhythm of his movements nearly lulled her to sleep. She hummed contentedly when she felt his lips on her skin, nodding against his shoulder when he said something about going back to the cart.

She must have actually fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she recalled was Chaceledon gently laying her on the blankets. She frowned when she heard about Rations, hoping that rather than either option Rheinhard spoke of, the poor horse had found a quiet spot with cool moss and clear water of its own to rest.

Then she felt Chaceledon curl up beside her, and she dimly noted that he wasn't quite as warm to the touch as he always had been before. By the time he was covering them with the bearskin and pressing a kiss to her nose, she was drifting off to sleep.

She was unsure of how much time had passed she woke. The numbness of her arm suggested that she hadn't moved an inch since she fell asleep. She was finally delightfully warm, though, and she carefully pushed the bearskin down from her face to breath the cool air. Stars were still sparkling in the sky above her. Still night, she thought. Still a few hours till dawn, most likely.

After a moment listening, she figured that Rheinhard must be asleep. The camp was quiet and still. Slowly, so as not to disturb Chaceledon if he was sleeping deeply, she propped herself up on her elbow. Moonlight fell softly across his face and she reached out, smoothing his decidedly unkempt hair away from his--for a change--un-made-up face. She didn't know the stories behind his scars yet--could only deduce that Oor must be responsible for most if not all of them--but she felt privileged to see this side of him.

Her touch didn't linger on the scars, though. She smoothed her hand over his brow, then traced his eyebrows and the line of his nose. Her thumb dragged over his lower lip, much as it had several nights ago when she tugged it out from between his teeth. Fingers teasing down his neck, she leaned in and pressed her lips to where her touch had kissed his face, though she skipped over his mouth and kissed his chin instead.

Seteta scooted closer, lowering herself back down to lie beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. Her hand still wandered, fingertips dancing over his shoulder and collarbone, then slipped lower. Her palm pressed over his heartbeat for a moment.

He is petulant and arrogant and sometimes seems a bit disconnected from the world around us, Seteta thought as her breathing slowed to match his. But he is ancient and still manages to see a beauty in the world, despite his hardships. A beauty I have yet to even grasp. I want to be at his side, for as long as he wants me there.

The thought nearly stunned her, and she tipped her head back to look into his face again, sliding her hand down from his chest to rest against his hip.

I want him. The realization seared through her. She'd been courting him, yes, but so far they'd really just been... feeling each other out. Testing to see if they were compatible, if their values could or would align. And she knew that the hardest things still lay before them. They were not yet free from Oor. Something was going wrong with magic. And even after all of that... she still had to meet his family. A family of dragons.

But she wanted him, and she would fight to the death to claim him. To have him claim her.

So she just laid there in his arms, in her silent epiphany, eyes gleaming with emotion in the darkness of the night.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon laid quietly in the back of the cart, and watched Seteta. She was barely conscious, and he was freezing. Unlike her, if he threw more layers on it only helped to slow down the bleed of heat. He didn’t make his own, so if he were already cold, a blanket did nothing. Having her warm body next to his made the bear skin heat up, and he carefully pulled it up and over their heads. It created a small cave of warmth and quiet, where he could watch her sleep. He reached out and fussed with her hair, arranging it just so around her face and shoulders.

She was so beautiful in such an understated way. With dragons one could never be sure if the beauty was real. Covering up any perceived blemish, going without things like eyeglasses or level shoes because one wanted to be prettier or taller. Seteta just...was. She was who she was and never apologized for it. Chaceledon could only wish for that sort of courage.

He ran a hand over her cheek, a small smile on his face. After so long away from posturing, and wearing masks, was he even really draconian anymore? Was that such a bad thing, if Seteta and Rheinhard were part of that? No, he decided. If his family rejected him as part of that weird, fringe group of dragons who didn’t subscribe to their culture...he was fine with that. He was fine with it, as long as Seteta was by his side.

Chaceledon closed his eyes and slept, warm for once.

When he woke in the morning, they were already moving. Mau was strapped in, but there were hoof ears behind them? He frowned and wiggled his head out of their warm bear fur cave. Rations was plodding along behind the cart. His eyes were covered with a rag, and he had poultices across one shoulder. He had the strangest halter on him that Chaceledon had ever seen. Woven from lichen and vines, but it seemed to serve the placid gelding.

“Rations?” Chaceledon mumbled in surprise.

“Returned in the night lame and with slash marks down his shoulder.” Volker grunted from the driver’s seat. “We are giving a ride to those who returned him. Try not to panic.”

“Why would I pan-“ the question died in his throat. Tiny men were riding on the back of their seat. They were men only in the purely academic sense of the word, being small mushrooms with arms and legs, and little black eyes, around five inches tall. They waved and squeaked at Chaceledon in a hideously high pitched language. “-Myconids! You let myconids in the cart?”

“They returned the horse. It was what they asked for.”

A loud chorus of squeaking giggling. Chaceledon groaned and pulled the fur over his face. “Why?”

“Their magic was disturbed two days ago, and to a lesser extent this morning. They wanted a ride six hundred of their miles this way, to visit another clan and speak about it.” Volker explained. “It seems to be systemic.”

“I forget you speak myconid.” Chaceledon moaned in disgust.

Seteta
 
It was a testament to Seteta's utter weariness that she both fell back asleep after her pre-dawn epiphany, and that she slept through the arrival of the myconids. What she did not sleep through, though, was Chaceledon jostling her, pulling the bearskin around, and grumbling about something. She heard strange squeaking, and Rheinhard's voice, and she rolled over and buried her face in Chaceledon's chest with a pained groan, hooking her knee over his hip.

"So much noise," she grumbled, barely even bothered by the movement of the wagon. It was a far cry better than another day on horseback, at the moment, as every ache and sore spot--including the bruises from sparring with Chaceledon--made themselves known. Sure, the wagon might be making a few more bruises, but at least she didn't have to hold herself upright.

Blearily, she poked her head out from under the bearskin, and squinted at the--what was it Chaceledon had said? Myconids?

"What the blazing sands are those creatures?" she asked, not quite sure she wasn't hallucinating.

Chaceledon
 
“They’re annoying little drug peddlers.” Chaceledon groused, and snuggled back down under the skin. He couldn’t help but notice the way Seteta was pressed against him. Her leg over his hip. He cleared his throat, and slid an arm lazily over Seteta’s side. “Come back to sleep.”

“They are spirits.” Volker corrected. “Neutral, mind their own business for the most part. They are good luck.” He turned his head around front, and made very silly little squeaking noises to their guests, who returned it with a cacophony that made Chaceledon groan. He did like the way she was peeking out...he secretly nuzzled against her chest, kissing her collarbone. He wanted to go back to sleep...but would it be so bad to kiss her in their strange little blanket cave?

Seteta
 
"Hmm, what kind of drugs?" Seteta murmured, wiggling her hips just so against Chaceledon as he slid an arm around her. "The fun kind?"

Still, despite the distraction of Chaceledon's lips on her collarbone, arching her back to encourage his mouth just a little lower, she heard Rheinhard's explanation.

"We can use all the luck we can get," she agreed, her voice just a tad breathy and distracted. She did make note of Rheinhard speaking the squeaky, high-pitched language of these Myconids, though. She wouldn't tease him about it, but the memory would likely amuse her later.

Then she turned her full attention to Chaceledon, sliding down to come face to face with him under the bearskin.

"That was nice," she purred. "What else can you do with that mouth?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon chuckled. “Oh, they make this pink liquor out of the Lady’s Slipper mushroom that makes you floaty and lustful. I used to steal nips of it from our liquor cellar when I was younger.” he grinned and kissed her, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pulled her close against him, his mouth dipping down to kiss her breast. He felt better. Sore from the swamp and his legs ached, but perhaps...?

“If you copulate in this wagon I will throw you in the mud then over Rations’ back.” Volker’s tone was freezing. He meant it. Well, they were all tired and dirty, and Chaceledon desperately needed to shave anything Seteta wanted to touch. Perhaps Rheinhard had a point. He kissed her, and laid his head back down with a small sigh.

“His interference isn’t nearly as cute when it’s someone I do want to sleep with.” he snickered conspiratorially. He ran his fingers over her hip.

Seteta
 
"But there's so much we can do that isn't copulation," Seteta whispered conspiratorially in Chaceledon's ear, lips just brushing against his skin. "We just have to be quiet."

She gently nibbled on his ear, her fingertips teasing down the firm plane of his stomach. She shivered as his fingers traced over her hip, and she pressed into his touch eagerly, her lips moving from his ear down his neck in open-mouthed kisses.


For her and Chaceledon, the next few days of travel were practically leisurely, though Seteta did at least try to pull her weight around the camp in the evenings and the mornings. She was still sore and aching, though, and was grateful to sit cuddled with Chaceledon in the back of the wagon for a few days, instead of riding Mau.

The Myconids had been safely escorted to their destination. Seteta had made a point to at least learn their greetings in their language, much to Rheinhard's amusement and Chaceledon's utter horror. Someday, she hoped to try some of the pink liquor that Chaceledon had mentioned, but for now she thought that she and her dragon had the lustful part covered.

Their nights had taken a decidedly heated turn. Snuggled with Chaceledon under the bearskin, where before it had been shy and accidental touches, more often than not happening while either of them were asleep or mostly-asleep, now... now they teased and taunted each other, Seteta for one coming to bed completely nude more often than not, if only to hear Chaceledon's groan of frustration. Despite Rheinhard's warning in the wagon, it never went that far, though. They had both come to some silent agreement, later confirmed in words, that it wasn't time. Not yet.

The magic, and its constant stuttering, was a silent shadow lurking around them, though. Especially when the Well would act up.

There was much relief when they reached the western edge of the swamplands at last, and the first chance she got, Seteta flopped down onto ground that wasn't mud. She dug her fingers into the earth, reaching for the magic, and heaved a sigh when it was there waiting for her, this time.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon enjoyed the teasing. There was a bit of the game in this too, a way of touching, and tasting, that toed a very specific line for them both. Chaceledon enjoyed the intimacy, getting to know the planes of her body. It was slow, gentle and pleasant. Everything he needed in courtship.

He despised the swamp and the myconids. They would burrow into the ground in the evenings, and pop right back up again refreshed and alive. Chaceledon hated the muck, the wet. No matter where they camped it was a wet sponge. Their footprints filled with fetid water, and they were never truly dry. It put a damper on the idea of lovemaking; Chaceledon didn’t want to add any more sweat to the mixture.

The western edge of the swamp was a godsend. Solid ground. Still marshy, but the bugs were less thick. The trees had less moss. The air didn’t feel like breathing in soup. But that wasn’t the most beautiful sight of all.

It was a beautifully gabled building, each edge of the pyramidal roofs curled upwards. Terracotta tiles were crusted in moss, and the turquoise paint was chipping, but somehow made it seem more charming. Chaceledon didn’t think twice. He ran. He ran to it ahead of Volker and Seteta without a second look. He was filthy, his clothes felt like they’d never be clean again even if this was his sensible trouser pair. His hair felt matted and disgusting. His skin crawled with a thousand bug bites.

He ran to that door like a man on fire. He grabbed the brass ring. He yanked open the door. Fires, and spiced rum, and tea. Plush couches, beautiful bodies languishing on them, alcohol. Grilled meats and piles of fresh rice, baths big enough to bathe a troll in. Hot stone massages. It blew toward his face in a cloud of memory and for a moment a relieved smile graced his features. It was here.

Then it was gone.

The scents faded. Perfume and conversation died. The pet house was empty. Mold crawled along the exquisite paintings on the walls. The bar was half collapsed and the bottles crusted with age. The couches rotten. Even the polished floors were cracked and broken as the swamps attempted to reclaim its land. There were broken sets of porcelain smattered all over the floor.

Volker heard the ragged, broken scream before he got within walking distance. He knew the pet house was abandoned. Moss on the roof would never have been permitted. Peeling paint? He saw it half a mile away and it only became more obvious as they approached. He stopped Mau by the pet house, looking at his mother. Chaceledon was kneeling on the floor, sobbing pathetically at the sight.

“I just...w-wanted a bath with real hot water...” he sniffled.

Volker sighed and peered inside. “Abandoned. By the damage...everyone here is either dead or had the brains to flee.” He said quietly. He stepped around the weeping dragon and inside. The pet house creaked. The upstairs was still intact by the beautifully painted red railing. “Perhaps some of the spells still work.” Volker said quietly. “Seteta! I am no mage. There should be a cleaning ward around the pet house. Can you find it? It should make the area live able again. Pets were never fond of housework.”

Seteta
 
Seteta hadn't even noticed the building until Chaceledon was sprinting towards it. She sat up from the ground, watching him curiously, uncertain of why he was so excited to see a dilapidated... something.

Rheinhard pulled the wagon up in front of the place, and Seteta stood up from the ground, walking over to join them. She stepped inside the building cautiously, looking up to make sure that it wasn't going to cave in on them where they stood, and looked around.

Chaceledon said:
“Perhaps some of the spells still work.” Volker said quietly. “Seteta! I am no mage. There should be a cleaning ward around the pet house. Can you find it? It should make the area live able again. Pets were never fond of housework.”
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"I can probably find it," she answered. "But whether or not I'll be able to activate it is questionable. It'll only be possible if it utilized earth magic elements at all."

Carefully stepping around the shards of broken porcelain, Seteta found a spot where the earth beneath the flooring was exposed. She knelt down, and reached out to her magic once again. She traced the lines of the foundation, following her magic as far as she could with it and feeling for any other magic. It wouldn't be like sensing Rheinhard and the Well in the wild. This would be more subtle, she knew, a part of the place.

There. At last, several moments of silence later, she felt a tickle of magic. Something that slept, waiting. She closed her eyes, pressing her palm firmly to the earth, and coaxed it out. Coaxed it to respond to her. To her other-not-quite-right but better-than-nothing magic. She felt it pulse. Through her, around her, through the earth and through the walls, and then it faded away, and she sat back on her heels, opening her eyes to see if anything had changed.

Chaceledon
 
Volker cautiously stepped inside as Seteta found a broken spot in the floor. He flared his nostrils and breathed in, frowning. The place had been abandoned for months. Was it even still possible the spells were intact? He peeked into the bathhouse, a wide area just beyond the dining room and bar that boasted huge copper bathtubs. Thankfully, they were dry. The tiles around the room, once a beautiful emerald, were cracked and bloody. Volker touched a handprint on the wall. No, this wasn’t abandoned.

He found a broken pet collar in the corner. A ridiculously complex wreath of rose gold. There might have been sapphires or diamonds in it at one point, but they’d been pried loose. Raiders, then. These collars were permanent works of art around the throat of an expensive slave. This had been ripped off.

He felt the magic when she touched it. Slowly, the floor around them groaned. Mold fell from the walls in curling agony as the spells swept the walls clean. The floor repaired itself, sealing up the hole Seteta had used. Bottles righted themselves, furniture fluffed, and mage lamps lit. Well, the ones that weren’t broken. Volker watched spider cracks on the tile heal, and the bloody handprint burn away.

He walked out to Chaceledon, who had sat tearfully on a repaired velvet couch. It wasn’t perfect; the spell destroyed the mold and rot, but didn’t pick up the broken bottles or fix the few broken mage lamps. A fire sparked in the hearth. Volker offered Chaceledon the collar, and Chaceledon burst into a fresh round of tears.

“Those monsters...”

“I guarantee defectors from Vel Anir, or guardsmen drunk on power. Many pets are nonhuman.” Volker said quietly. “At least it is clean now, and drying. We can sleep in a bed.”

Chaceledon looked at Seteta, rubbing his eyes.

Seteta
 
The pet house was restored, of sorts, before Seteta's very eyes and while the floors and walls and furniture were mended, there was absolutely nothing that could be done about the sense of... emptiness. The absence of life.

She walked back to join Rheinhard and Chaceledon, suppressing a shudder when she heard the mention of Vel Anir. She never wanted to cross paths with that city or anyone from it ever again, if she could help it. When Chaceledon looked up at her with teary eyes, though, she pushed those thoughts away.

"Come, sehejib," she said, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead as she pried the broken collar from his hands and gently set it aside. "We cannot change what happened here, but we can let this place have a final time of happiness instead of horror."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon squeezed her hands and kissed her, sighing and looking at the collar. “I knew the pet who designed that. He was so proud to show it to me. Now look at it.” he huffed. “Of course it was humans. Can’t see the forest for the trees. The piece was worth so much more together...and the man it was on worth twice that.”

He dabbed at his eyes, and looked up when Volker waved a bottle in front of them. “345 Margote D’ief. Very good year.” Volker mentioned. Chaceledon sighed and took the champagne bottle.
“You don’t drink.” the dragon turned over the bottle in his hands.

“I do not, but you and Seteta can. We are safe here. The baths will work, I will prepare us beds. Perhaps there is still a working kitchen.” Volker said softly, and offered them glasses. Chaceledon smiled a bit as he took them and offered one to Seteta.

“Pure crystal.” he said, and rapped the glass lightly with a fingernail. It sang, softly and beautifully. Chaceledon set the glasses on an end table and twisted the cork. A loud pop, but no rushing foam. “Never ever aim the cork, sweetling, it flattens the drink. Pour down the sides at a 45 degree angle.” he instructed as he poured the champagne for Seteta. He offered her the glass with a small smile.

Seteta
 
Seteta returned Chaceledon's kiss, rubbing her thumbs comfortingly over his knuckles. She knew what it was like to find something of a friend left behind. A trinket or possession, with no clue of what had happened to them beyond that. There weren't truly any words that could be said to make it better. She grimaced when he mentioned humans, though. The Abtati didn't really have any grudge against humanity as a whole, but she'd had few positive experiences with them in general. While she wouldn't deny that the Abtati often enslaved Kaliti humans themselves, they were not the ones who made killing the other species part of their coming of age rituals.

Chaceledon said:
“I do not, but you and Seteta can. We are safe here. The baths will work, I will prepare us beds. Perhaps there is still a working kitchen.” Volker said softly, and offered them glasses. Chaceledon smiled a bit as he took them and offered one to Seteta.
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She took the glass Chaceledon handed her, and felt a little guilty for leaving Rheinhard with all of the work again. He'd taken on the majority of the camp responsibilities within the swamp as they traveled, though she'd suspected part of that was because he was afraid that she and Chaceledon would make a major flub again and be carried off by another troll. But Chaceledon was already speaking again, and she watched bemusedly as he instructed her on the proper way to serve... what was it? Champagne?

Seteta swapped the empty glass for the full one he held out, waited for him to fill his own before taking a sip. The flavor was... interesting. Not terribly sweet, and not very strong, but she liked the way the bubbles played over her tongue.

She watched Chaceledon sip at his own glass, clearly savoring it, and smiled. They were both of the desert, but practically of opposite sides of it. He and his family had conquered their little corner of the desert, and carved a luxurious life out of it. She and her tribe... they'd struggled. They weren't poor or destitute by any means, but they'd depended on each other to survive and survival had not been guaranteed.

Seteta held out a hand to her dragon. "Come, show me the place. It reminds me of some of the oases back home, but is clearly larger and more luxurious."

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon closed his eyes as he tipped the glass to his lips. He took in a small, elegant sip with a moan of pleasure. The sweet alcohol rolled over his tongue, bringing him back to expensive parties and orgies in his family’s estate. None of them, of course, formally approved by his parents. He smiled, savoring the flavor. Echoes of luxury. He set the bottle aside and took her hand.

A tour? He could manage that. “Well this is the sitting room, this is where you would check yourself in to the pet house and pay a small fortune for the luxury.” Chaceledon gestured to the bar and plush couches around them. “Apprentice pets carrying around trays of spiced meats and candied nuts, learning to serve properly. Pet houses are run by pets. You could get someone to sleep with, or have things transcribed here...more of the former than the latter.”

He kissed her hand and led her toward the baths, stepping into the emerald tiles. Volker was attempting to figure out the mechanism to fill one of the gigantic copper tubs. “And these are the baths. There should be a cabinet here...oh thank god.” he took a sip of his drink and led her to a cabinet of rich dark wood. A delicate little bronze clasp flicked up, and the doors pulled open to reveal a staggering array of bottles. All, of course, works of art in themselves. Chaceledon offered her one. “Sandalwood shampoo was always my favorite...and they have this fantastic little trick...”

Chaceledon offered her a small white vial, stoppered with the carved image of a woman touching herself, head thrown back. “Lubricant that warms you up a bit in the bath.”

He grinned conspiratorially, and led her into an ante room. Oh, oh thank the gods. Padded leather tables and racks with heavy obsidian stones. Some the size of a thumb, others as large as a horse head. A massage room, the dragon explained, though all the masseuses who would be singing and rubbing down their clients were gone.

“What do you want to see next? Upstairs to the rooms or downstairs to the wine cellar?” Chaceledon asked, his grin wide and playful. “Figured out the true purpose of this place yet?”

“An advertisement for Pedeo. People like this place, they’ll come to bid on the pets.” Volker grunted as he came to steal one of the stones. “The valve is stuck.”

Seteta
 
Seteta could almost see it as Chaceledon described what the pet house should have been like, teeming with life and more than a little debauchery. She smiled when he kissed her hand, then looped her arm through his as he led her out of the sitting room and toward the baths.

When he opened the cupboard, her eyes widened at the rows and rows and rows of bottles, though. If she'd thought the amount of cleansers and oils he'd had in the bath above the shop in Fal'Addas was dizzying, it was nothing compared to this.

"Hmm, sandalwood is nice," she agreed, but glanced at the smaller vial he handed her curiously, then broke into a wide grin.

Chaceledon said:
“Lubricant that warms you up a bit in the bath.”
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"Perfect," she murmured, palming the small vial, a vivid image flashing through her mind of the two of them in the water, her knees hooked over his shoulders while her toes curled over the edge of the tub, his head between her thighs as she kept herself afloat. Heat started to coil in her belly.

He led her into the massage room next, and she bit her lip as she perused the tables, then cast a heated look his way. "In the absence of pets, I suppose we'll have to improvise," Seteta smiled coyly.

Chaceledon said:
“What do you want to see next? Upstairs to the rooms or downstairs to the wine cellar?” Chaceledon asked, his grin wide and playful. “Figured out the true purpose of this place yet?”

“An advertisement for Pedeo. People like this place, they’ll come to bid on the pets.” Volker grunted as he came to steal one of the stones. “The valve is stuck.”
Click to expand...

Seteta laughed softly as Rheinhard interrupted the moment, knowing that his answer was definitely not what Chaceledon had been going for. After the man had lugged one of the larger stones out of the room, Seteta finished off her champagne and set the crystal glass aside.

"The wine cellar, I think," Seteta purred as she teased her fingers over Chaceledon's wrist. "Neither of us will want to tumble into bed until we're clean."

The wine cellar would be cool. Dark. And no reason for Rheinhard to interrupt them there for a while. They would have to stay close, so that Chaceledon didn't get too chilled.

"As for the true purpose of this place," she remarked as he led her out of the massage room, "clearly it's a place meant to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. So tell me, if we'd arrived here and this place was as it should have been, what would have been your indulgences?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon finished his as well, raising an eyebrow. He set his glass next to hers. He could hear a loud pinging and the flow of water from the other room as Volker used the stone to unleash the hot water. They’d have a hot bath to come back to, and he rather liked the idea of taking a deep breath and burying his face between her thighs. According to women when he was younger he had never been a slouch in that department.

He took her hand and weighed her question as they headed down a set of stone stairs to the wine cellar. “Well...first is a hot bath for us three. Rheinhard’s private, of course, he’s a devastating fear of being seen naked. A massage after, something to ease all the tension. Drinks, dinner. Lamb with mint sauce and rice. All the liquor I could drink. Then pouring me into bed with you for lazy lovemaking before we pass out.” he chuckled and leaned over to kiss her.

The wine cellar was dark, lit by occasional mage lamps. It had also clearly been plundered; one of the racks was leaned over and there were several smashed bottles on the ground. However, these only comprised of a very small portion of the liquor. There were bottles upon bottles of wine, spirits...and something that caught Chaceledon’s eye.

He left her for a moment to pick up the small bottle. It was only around 250mL, a petite thing, but shimmering pink light came through the glass. Chaceledon grinned at Seteta. “Fancy a nip before our bath? I can show you the traditional way to drink it..” he smiled and uncorked it, taking a very small sip. He swallowed only half of it, and drew Seteta into a deep kiss, sharing the rest with her. It tasted light, fruity, but rushed to the head. Chaceledon recalled a certain popular way of describing it...like having your brain smashed out with a slice of lemon, wrapped round a large gold brick.

Seteta
 
Seteta couldn't help but smile as Chaceledon told her what he'd do, not expecting something quite so domestic but rather a little more risqué. She wouldn't fault him for it though. Each had their place, and she did quite like the idea of lazy lovemaking.

Honestly, right now she rather liked the idea of anything that involved her and Chaceledon naked together, and she nipped playfully at his lip when he leaned over to kiss her.

They descended into the wine cellar, and though Seteta knew nothing of vintages or quality liquor, she couldn't help but grimace at the sight of smashed bottles. When Chaceledon stepped away, she watched curiously, and then broke into a grin again when she caught sight of the shimmering pink liquid.

"The Myconid's brew?" she murmured eagerly, eyes lingering on the line of his throat as he tipped the vial back and swallowed.

Then his hands were cupping her jaw, tilting her face back as he bent down and kissed her. She pressed up on her toes, lips parting eagerly beneath his as the cool liquid trickled into her mouth. The taste was far, far better than the champagne. Sweet and fruity, but not so much that it felt overly rich, and she moaned as she flicked her tongue into Chaceledon's mouth, searching out every residual drop.

Then it slammed through her.

She dropped away from him with a gasp as her mind went blank. Sensation ricocheted through her, vibrant and heady. His fingertips on her skin, chaste as they were at that moment, were very suddenly too much and not enough and she needed them everywhere.

The warmth simmering low in her belly suddenly knotted tight and swift and hot behind her navel, and then she was trembling in eager anticipation.

"Please," she begged, not even entirely sure what she was asking for, just that she was done with the teasing and taunting touches they'd been trading for days now, and while she didn't want to, as Rheinhard would say, copulate under the influence of this drug, by the gods she wanted to be unraveled under Chaceledon's touch.

She reached up, covering his hands with both of hers--the vial he'd handed her in the bath room tumbling to the ground with a quiet plink--and brought one of his hands to her mouth to kiss his palm while she guided his other hand down her neck and over her chest, arching into his touch much the same way she had that morning in the tent when he'd called her a desert cat.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon felt it hit, but he clearly wasn’t struck as hard as she. To be fair he was used to it; the rush to his skull and groin seemingly all at once. His skin blazed, and every whisper of her fingers on his flesh was fire. He drew her close again, his arms around her waist to support her as much as hold her. She kissed his hand, guiding the other...and he leaned into the feeling.

The dragon shifted his arms down and picked her up. She was far shorter than he was, and an elegant buffet table along the wall was perfect. He kissed her again, and his hands ran up her thighs. He still wasn’t ready to take her, and he wouldn’t. Not like this, not in a cellar hiding from Rheinhard. But he did want to feel her come undone. He kissed her neck, tilting her head back against the cool stone.

“My beautiful desert cat...” he whispered to her, and moved to pull her shirt over her head. Teasing touches weren’t the goal of tonight, but neither was rushing into it.

Seteta
 
Seteta sighed contentedly as Chaceledon lowered her into the warm bathwater. His touch still sent heat and want spiraling through her, but her trembling thighs--gods, his copper hair trailing over her legs was a memory she would not soon forget--demanded a short reprieve.

She took a breath and dipped beneath the steaming surface. Even the water sluicing over her skin felt arousing, thanks to the Myconid's drug. With it still coursing through her system, she didn't need much. A soft touch, a whisper of breath... it was so vivid. So pronounced.

She broke the surface of the water, smoothing her hair back from her face. If she stood flat on her feet, the water was just under her nose. She paddled back to the side of the tub, found the bench underneath, and knelt on it. If she sat, she wouldn't be able to breath, and drowning was not something she wanted to experience when not drugged, let alone when high on a sensation-heightening substance.

A contented purr escaped her as she watched Chaceledon move through the water. When he finally settled on the bench beside her, she twisted around, bracketing her thighs around his hips and stretching up to kiss him as she smoothed her hands up his chest and neck to tangle her fingers in the hair at base of skull. Lightly, so as not to pull.

The drug made kissing him now like kissing him that morning after he'd eaten the dried pepper, but instead of the heat just staying in her mouth, it spread like vines through her body, blooming wherever Chaceledon's skin touched hers.

"I can feel so much," she murmured when she finally pulled away and nuzzled her nose against his. "How long will this go on?"

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon was pleased to see that Rheinhard had drawn them a bath while they had been...downstairs. Bath oils had been arranged on the short table to one side of the bath, along with their champagne bottle and fresh glasses. Chaceledon sank into the water, and poured himself another glass of the champagne. He settled in, the bathwater up to his collarbone, and sighed. The bathwater was so hot, so comfortable. Thank the gods for pet houses.

Seteta climbed into his lap and he welcomed her with a smile. He kissed her, setting his glass down so he could wind his arms around her waist. “I have a feeling when you eat a meal and curl up in a very soft bed, it’ll leave.” he chuckled and kissed her neck briefly.

It was a little bittersweet, to be honest. He was so happy, here, clean, with a woman he was swiftly growing to love. He was more than happy about that. But Rheinhard was still alone. He was still just...surviving. He’d probably indulged himself in the bath before them, but nothing other than to clean, eat and sleep. He nuzzled Seteta fondly. “Flower, please tell me your clan has a lot of burly men for my son. Then this will be absolutely perfect.” he snickered a bit. Poor Rheinhard. Once they were free, Chaceledon would find him someone.

For now, the dragon wanted to be clean. He shooed Seteta off his lap with a kiss, and began the arduous process of bathing. Taking off his nails. Shampooing his hair...thrice. Then pinning it up thickly lathered with conditioning oils while he scrubbed every inch of his body. It seemed there were at least two soaps for everything. Rheinhard had even brought out a pot of, ironically, volcanic mud that Chaceledon eagerly layered over his face and closed his eyes to let it dry.

“Thank the gods. I feel like a man again.”

Seteta
 
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