Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

[Seteta]

Seteta shivered as Chaceledon's arms slid around her, despite the heat of the water.

“I have a feeling when you eat a meal and curl up in a very soft bed, it’ll leave.”

She leaned her head back as he kissed her neck. The heat of his lips was searing. Gods, that brew the Myconid's made was intense, and she forced herself to not fall into the sensations again and just tucked her face in the side of Chaceledon's neck and rested for a little while.

Her dragon's mind must have been busy, though, because she felt him chuckle a few moments later.

“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.

"Well," she murmured, "we elves tend to be lean and lithe, so I can't guarantee burly. But men, yes. Though my tribe has disbanded, but I do have some connections within other tribes."

Assuming they did it make to Amol-Kalit, and ever made it to the point of reaching out to any of her friends and family, well... she would deal with bringing up the Abtati's inherent mistrust of humans then. There was no reason to foul the moment.

Seteta pouted as she was shooed off of Chaceledon's lap, but took the opportunity to swim and splash around the very large tub, sneaking (sometimes incredulous) glances of him while he... bathed. It was nothing like the baths she was used to. He slathered so many things in his hair and over his skin that she lost track and eventually just let herself float on her back in the warm water and waited for him to finish. She was too short to sit on the bench without being fully submersed and didn't particularly feel like just clinging to the edge of the tub.

She was slightly confused as he slathered mud on his face--especially since he'd been so offended by mud in the Cortosi swamps--but shook her head with a smile. As he settled back on the bench, she slid back into his lap and straddled him again, examining his face with a bemused smile.

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

"Oh, you've always been a man," Seteta purred, sliding her hand lower down his stomach under the water's surface for just a few moments.

"I don't understand all of these things that you do, though, with the soaps and the lotions," she mused. "In the desert we washed our hair maybe... once a month. Water was too valuable."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon chuckled. “Any tribe we can put Volker with as a very eligible bachelor?” he asked playfully. He smiled at her and kissed her nose when she crawled into his lap again, and stated she didn’t understand the soaps. “I do it to stay beautiful, and once you’ve truly had this type of clean... it’s hard to go back. Come here darling. Turn around.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and smiled, picking up a brush. He brushed her hair, slowly, reverently. He smiled softly to her. “In my culture...things like this are slow, reverent. You bathe the people you love, and dress them with respect. You admire everything about what you’re cleaning.” he whispered, brushing her hair into the texture of silk. He picked up the first bottle and brushed soap through her hair. He lathered it with his fingers, rubbing and massaging her scalp. He smiled and tilted her head up with a graceful palm to her throat, rinsing her. He guarded her eyes with a hand.

He brushed her hair again, clean and shining. Another bottle, smelling of lavender, that he worked into her scalp and rinsed. Then a thicker oil he worked into her hair. He twisted it up on top of her head and pinned it. “We leave that in for a little while, and your hair will be soft as silk.” he told her, and picked up the pot of mud. He added a layer onto her face. “It detoxifies your skin.”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta was thankful that Chaceledon didn't seem to truly expect an answer about Volker... yet. She hummed softly when he kissed her nose, turning around when he directed her to, though she couldn't resist teasingly wiggling her hips back against his.

She was skeptical about his claims that all of this was to stay beautiful, but maybe dragon physiology was more different than she expected. Elves stayed youthful and fair till close to the very ends of their lives, though she'd known only a few among the Abatati like that. The desert, or the Kaliti, tended to end their lives long before their natural lifespan was up.

She sighed contentedly as he ran his fingers through her hair, and then gently began to brush it.

“In my culture...things like this are slow, reverent. You bathe the people you love, and dress them with respect. You admire everything about what you’re cleaning.” he whispered, brushing her hair into the texture of silk.

Seteta smiled softly at his explanation. "We had similar traditions among my tribe," she murmured as he began to lather her hair. "The best chances of survival are when you can trust the people around you, so we fostered those bonds between us, just in different ways, because water was too valuable a resource."

She leaned her head back when she felt Chaceledon's palm at her throat, shivering just a little as the sensation reminded her of their... earlier activities. He rinsed her hair, then put even more stuff in it and rinsed it again before putting even more stuff in her hair and pinning it atop her head.

Eyeing the jar of mud, she allowed him to gently smear it across her face. When it came in contact with her skin, she curiously reached out to it with her magic, examining it. "It's rich and fertile," she said. "Wherever it was taken from, the earth there was content. Happy."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon smiled a bit. “This is earth purified by mages like yourself, with volcanic ash and rich soil. It draws impurities out of your skin and keeps it from wrinkling.” he explained, and fussed with her hair a bit to keep it above the waterline. His hands fell to her shoulders, and slowly he began to massage her muscles. His hands were strong, despite their slender appearance, from hours upon hours of working with metal and gemstone. He worked his way down her back, rubbing tension out all along her spine. “Here, let’s rinse your hair.” he pulled the pin and rinsed the oils out of her hair, brushing it through. It smelled light, clean, and the oils had done wonders for her scalp.

Chaceledon rinsed his own hair, carefully keeping the mud on his face dry as he’d done for her. He helped her out of the bath, and wrapped her in a towel. He rubbed her down lovingly, wrapped her in a fresh and fluffy towel, then led her to the massage room. He picked up some of the obsidian stones from the rack, heating them with his flaming breath. When they settled on her, they were hot but not uncomfortably so. The weight relaxed her muscles. Chaceledon carefully arranged them from small along her neck and between her shoulders, to heavier along her upper and lower back.

“Now just rest, let your face dry.” he told her affectionately, pouring her a new glass of champagne. Chaceledon settled on the floor, summoned his nail case, and began cleaning and shaping her nails with a sharp glass pick and file. A tiny bottle of fragrant oil made them shine.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"They did a good job with it," Seteta murmured, but her thoughts quickly shifted away from the mud as Chaceledon's hands began to work at her muscles. His hands were warm, far warmer than a human when he was feeling good, and the heat of them combined with the heat of the bathwater made knots and aches dissolve.

While the troll's magical mucus had helped to heal her cracked ribs, she still had sore spots and a few fading bruises from sparring with Chaceledon that night outside Vel Anir, and while he didn't aggravate them for the most part, there were a few points where she flinched away, surprising even herself. The drug is probably affecting that too, she realized.

When his hands and fingers smoothed along her lower back, though, she couldn't help but let out a deep, contented sigh. Between the Myconid's liquor still coursing through her, and Chaceledon's tender physical attentions, she let herself slip into a blissful haze. She reveled in his touch as he rinsed her hair and brushed it out again, when he lifted her out of the bath and toweled her off, and when he led her to the massage room and directed her to lie down on her stomach.

Seteta propped herself up on her elbows, watching curiously as Chaceledon picked out the strange black stones and heated them with his purple flame. Every time she saw him use it, every time she was able to successfully tap into her own magic, a wave of foreboding mixed with relief would wash through her, but this moment, she was also relieved to see how content Chaceledon was.

She wanted to see him like this forever.

She lowered her head back down to the table, sighing as the warm stones were settled down her spine and over her shoulders and lower back. It reminded her of the comforting, radiating warmth of the desert sands just after nightfall, when the air was chilled but the heat of the day still lingered under her feet.

“Now just rest, let your face dry.” he told her affectionately, pouring her a new glass of champagne.

She motioned for him to set it aside, relaxed enough at the moment that she didn't want to bother maneuvering around to drink champagne. As he worked at her nails--which honestly, even if she wasn't as meticulous about all of this as Chaceledon was, her hands had been through an awful lot lately--she closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

It was nice to have this little bit of reprieve. They'd been on the move constantly since they left Fal'Addas, and while the nights had not been lonely, even for a nomad their pace and challenges had been intense.

But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Sehejib," she murmured quietly after some indeterminate amount of time, "I'm glad I found you."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon saw this as a sort of meditation. He filed her nails, cleaned her cuticles, and looked at his work. He kissed her hand lovingly, smiling. She was relaxed, she was happy, she was absolutely beautiful. He washed her face with warm, then cool water, gently massaging her skin. He kissed her forehead, then patted her face dry. She was clean, her face was glowing with health, and her hair was silken. He kissed her palm, and let her rest.

He got dressed in a robe, and strode out to the main room. Specifically to the kitchen. Rheinhard was standing in front of a large iron stove, feeding small brands of wood into the fire. A large bag of rice was open, and Rheinhard had a pot of water steaming a healthy amount. Chaceledon hugged him from behind, resting his forehead between Rheinhard’s shoulders.

“We’re out.” he said softly. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Rheinhard hung his head slightly. He sighed and braced his arms against the stove frame. “It isnt, mother. Not yet.” He said quietly. “We still have to convince Persian to turn his back on one of his oldest friends. We’re using me as bait, but when he cannot actually use that bait...”

Chaceledon patted his shoulder. “Let me worry about that.” he told him. He looked through the jars of preserves that Rheinhard had found, as well as some rabbits he’d caught while they were...occupied. Seteta was left to her own devices, as Chaceledon happily helped his son cook. Avoiding, of course, any actual dirty work.

A figure settled onto a chair next to the massage table. “Seteta, is it?” He asked, in perfect Abtati. “I’d ask that you not make any noise or yell. I came here to discuss something with you.”

The man looked like a burned and dessicated corpse. He had no eyes, nose or lips to speak of. He looked as delicate as lamp paper, with an inner light shining through his rib cage. He wore a long black robe, expensive silk, and very similar to what Chaceledon designed. Oor rested his chin in his hand, looking at the elf. “I am grateful that you’ve given them a little bit of hope. A little exercise, adventure. Chaceledon has been bored lately. He’s become obstinate. Acting out. But it’s time for this little thing to come to a scheduled end. Bring Chaceledon and Volker to Pedeo. Once he enters the Lion House, I’ll arrange for him to be home. He’s had his fun, you’ve clearly had yours, and I bring my husband and servant to heel in one fell swoop.”

Oor rose. “I’m prepared to pay you handsomely for the inconvenience. You’ll have enough to go anywhere in Arethil you choose.” The wraith offered a hand. “I’ll be watching your progress from the office. And madam? Betray me, and you’ll be in a luxury butcher’s shop in Pedeo by years end. Understand me?”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta must have drifted off to sleep at some point, but she roused and smiled softly when Chaceledon kissed her hand. He removed the cooling stones from her back and gently rolled her over before rinsing the mud from her face. She smiled again at the feel of his lips on her forehead, then her palm. Her eyes fluttered open in time to see him don a robe and leave the room. Too relaxed to worry about anything at all for a bit, she flipped back over onto her stomach and rested her head on her crossed arms, closing her eyes with a contented sigh.

Unfortunately, her contentment didn't last long.

A gentle whisper of moving cloth caught her ear, and she nearly pushed herself up, ready to greet Chaceledon again. Then she realized she could hear Rheinhard and Chaceledon in the kitchen, though their voices were muffled, and an unfamiliar voice was suddenly greeting her in her native tongue.

“Seteta, is it?” He asked, in perfect Abtati. “I’d ask that you not make any noise or yell. I came here to discuss something with you.”

Arching a brow, she gracefully sat up, and draped a nearby towel over her lap. She sat straight and tall, her face calm and eyes watchful, and looked every inch a queen despite her near-nakedness. She looked the creature over from head to toe where he sat below her, recognized the workmanship of his garments.

"Oor, I presume?" she murmured in Abtat, listening as he spoke and careful to let none of her thoughts show in her expression.

I am grateful that you’ve given them a little bit of hope. A little exercise, adventure. Chaceledon has been bored lately. He’s become obstinate. Acting out. But it’s time for this little thing to come to a scheduled end. Bring Chaceledon and Volker to Pedeo. Once he enters the Lion House, I’ll arrange for him to be home. He’s had his fun, you’ve clearly had yours, and I bring my husband and servant to heel in one fell swoop.”

Oor rose. “I’m prepared to pay you handsomely for the inconvenience. You’ll have enough to go anywhere in Arethil you choose.” The wraith offered a hand. “I’ll be watching your progress from the office. And madam? Betray me, and you’ll be in a luxury butcher’s shop in Pedeo by years end. Understand me?”

I would sooner drive my knife through his heart as he slept than let him think I gave him back to you, she thought to herself, watching as Oor rose from his seat and made his... proposition.

"I've been waiting for you," Seteta said. "Since the first time Rheinhard brought me into the Well. I expected you to make contact days ago. Unless..." a smile teased at the corners of her mouth as she thought of the recent disturbances to magic and the spell controlling the Well "... you couldn't?"

"I wonder which of you can pay me more," she mused quietly, eyeing Oor's extended hand with no small amount of skepticism. "Chaceledon has already offered to send me back to my people as a queen in exchange for his freedom, and I've seen enough of his abilities and resources to know it's an offer he can fulfill. Your counter-offer to... pay me handsomely seems a little lacking, in comparison to that."

Seteta didn't move where she sat, hands folded elegantly in her lap and her shrewd eyes locked on Oor's face. A fortnight, she thought. I've courted him for a fortnight and he's already mine in more ways than you were ever able to make him yours in nearly twenty millennia. Even if he was not sehejib, I would be a fool to give him up for your paltry offer.

You do not deserve him, she silently sneered behind her cool mask. Anyone who has to keep their supposed-spouse on a shackle, especially one as glorious as a dragon, is a coward.

Someday, she hoped, she could speak it aloud to Oor's face as his soul-seal was destroyed. But it wasn't time yet.

So she waited to hear what Oor would say.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Oor looked at her, and chuckled. “You’re a bit more shrewd than your appearance allows for. Chaceledon can pay you nothing. He has nothing. Where would a slave have acquired wealth? He’s bargaining on getting to his accounts in Pedeo...accounts that I’ve already emptied. As of today he is a destitute man. I’ve accessed the spell I gave him and sold off the gemstones he thinks will buy him freedom. I have sold off half his clothing. He will arrive at Pedeo poor as you are.” He chuckled darkly. “I have given him far too long of a lead because I didn’t think there was this amount of fight in him...or Rheinhard for that matter. Either way, it’s none of your concern. You will be paid handsomely for bringing Chaceledon to the Lion House.”

Oor made a small, elegant gesture of his wrist, and held out an object to her in his palm. A necklace, made of lily petals elegantly carved from cloudy white agate. “I’ve enchanted one of his old pieces with a spell. Put this around his throat, and he will become as cold as the stone he carves. Weak as a kitten. Then all I will do is collect him. Rheinhard is easy enough to bring to heel; I’ve already spoken to Klaus.” He held it out to her. “Take it, and consider my offer. An estate and staff all of your own. I would even consider throwing my considerable force in the Silent Court behind your clan. Think on it.”

He set the necklace next to her with the click of stone on stone, and headed downstairs into the basement. From there, he would be gone, as though he’d never visited.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta smiled wryly as Oor complimented her shrewdness, then forced herself to express a slight amount of concern at Oor's words about emptying Chaceledon's resources, to maintain the facade that she even cared about the riches. In her experience, those with endless coffers were the poorest souls in existence, and Oor's behavior was only confirming that for her. He had a dragon for a 'husband' and apparently all the wealth one could desire and he still couldn't actually win said dragon's loyalty.

When Oor pulled out the necklace, though, it took every bit of her strength not to visibly flinch. Without even touching her magic, she could feel the stone. Feel the spell forced upon it. It had been defiled.

“I’ve enchanted one of his old pieces with a spell. Put this around his throat, and he will become as cold as the stone he carves. Weak as a kitten. Then all I will do is collect him. Rheinhard is easy enough to bring to heel; I’ve already spoken to Klaus.” He held it out to her. “Take it, and consider my offer. An estate and staff all of your own. I would even consider throwing my considerable force in the Silent Court behind your clan. Think on it.”

He set the necklace next to her with the click of stone on stone, and headed downstairs into the basement.

Seteta watched, unmoving, as Oor exited the massage room, and then her eyes fell to the necklace where it sat beside her, and she couldn't hold back her shudder anymore. She couldn't even bring herself to touch the thing, but she couldn't just leave it sitting there for Chaceledon to find.

For all his posturing, she found Oor to be an idiot. If he'd wanted her to bring Chaceledon without any further fight, then he shouldn't have touched the things Chaceledon had stored in his... closet. Shouldn't have brought her one of Chaceledon's pieces. It would make no sense for her to have acquired it by any other means except Oor.

After a few moments of thought, Seteta hopped off the table, the towel on her lap falling to the floor without a thought on her part. She went to the cupboard where Chaceledon had retrieved a robe and donned one herself, pleased to find that it had pockets. She found a small face towel then, and went back to the massage table, carefully picking up the necklace without touching it and tucked it into one of the robe's pockets.

She could still hear Chaceledon and Rheinhard in the kitchen, and while she couldn't hear what they were saying, she could hear the utter happiness in Chaceledon's tone, and her heart ached at having to interrupt that.

But she could play along for just a few minutes.

When she entered the kitchen, Seteta paused in the doorway for just a moment. She did not have to feign the warmth she felt just watching Chaceledon and Rheinhard together. For as much as she could not trust Rheinhard, especially with Oor's access to him and with the Well malfunctioning, she knew that Chaceledon loved him--loved all the Volkers--quite dearly. And that the Volkers cared for him as well, even if some of them were insane or childishly stupid. To see them interacting so domestically brought tears to her eyes.

What if I can only save one of them? she thought. My heart would choose Chaceledon. The magic maintaining Rheinhard's sanity is far beyond my abilities. But to rip them apart... Oh Abtatu!

Then she forced herself to blink away the tears, and put a smile on her face.

"Sehejib," she purred, approaching him. When he turned her way, she pressed herself up against him and smoothed her hands up his chest, giving him a seductive look. "I am tired. Show me where we'll sleep tonight?"

Before he had a chance to answer, she slid her hands up to his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. When she pulled away, she trailed kisses across his cheek to his ear, and whispered as quietly as her elven voice could manage, lower than any human would be able to hear, hoping that dragon senses were more acute.

"We need to talk. Now. Where Rheinhard cannot hear. Oor was here."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon was helping fry the food, mixing pickled carrots, thick soy sauce, rice wine, garlic, onions, and corn in with the rice. This was something he could do easily, and with long metal chopsticks to avoid any mess. Rheinhard added the rabbit, and Chaceledon tossed the food in the wok. The dragon was happy. They were having a real hot meal, with a pot of tea. Rheinhard was pulling rabbit dumplings out of a steamer he’d found.

Chaceledon pulled the rice off the heat, pouring it into a bowl. He smiled when he saw Seteta. “Koiros! Rheinhard found food stores! Look! We have dumplings and fried rice, and tea.” he smiled and greeted her with an affectionate kiss. His smile faded when she whispered that dreaded name in his ear. Gods no. No! Not here. His face went slightly pale. Had this all been a game? He nodded shakily and set the bowl on the table, hurrying out of the room.

He grabbed Seteta and hurried her to the stairwell. “What do you mean he was here?”

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"Not here," Seteta hissed softly, wrapping her hand around Chaceledon's wrist and tugging him up the stairs. "Further away. We cannot risk being overheard. Oor has turned Klaus against Rheinhard."

On silent feet--another blessing of being elven--Seteta led Chaceledon up to the second floor, through the hall, and into a room at the opposite end of the building from the kitchen, without even bothering to see what kind of room it was, just that it was distant and whole and no place for wraiths to hide easily. Not that she truly doubted Oor's departure, even he could not linger too long for risk of being discovered by either of his slaves.

Seteta loosed her grip on Chaceledon, dropping into a crouch as the nerves she'd been suppressing finally forced their way to the surface, and she reached up to run her trembling fingers through her hair as she caught her breath.

"He showed up in the massage room mere minutes after you left," she whispered in the same low pitch she'd used in the kitchen, partially because her voice was wavering, but also to ensure the secrecy of her words. "He knows we're headed for Pedeo. He offered to 'pay me handsomely' to deliver you and Rheinhard safely to your house there, said he'd arrange to have you brought home from there.

"I played along. Let him think I was interested in the money and prestige, but that he'd have to outbid your offer to make me a Queen among the Abtati." Her face twisted distastefully, even thinking back on what she'd had to say. "You did well, sehejib," she laughed softly, thinking of the diamond pipe he'd told her about in case they failed and she made it out alive, "making your own stashes over the years. He's emptied out your accounts in Pedeo, said he accessed the spell he gave you and sold off all your gemstones and half your clothing. Said that as of today you are destitute and that you will be as poor as I am by the time we arrive in Pedeo."

That did make her smile, though, because as of today Seteta considered herself very, very rich indeed. But the smile quickly faded, and she stood again, reached into her pocket very carefully with a trembling hand.

"And he gave me this," she continued, unwrapping the agate necklace, careful to keep the towel between it and her skin. "Said he put a spell on it that would make you weak as a kitten if I clasped it around your neck."

Seteta looked down at the necklace in sorrow and disgust. "It's exquisite," she murmured. "He said it was an old favorite of yours, so I assume you made it. The stone... it should feel happy, delighted. But instead it feels defiled. I cannot even bring myself to touch it."

She didn't want to tell him about Oor's threat to her, but decided she should, since it put a timeframe into play. "He said if I did not bring you and Rheinhard, then by the year's end I would be in a luxury butcher shop in Pedeo. He says he'll be watching from the office."

She sighed again. "Pedeo is a trap, but he didn't say anything about Persian, so perhaps he suspects nothing there yet. But Rheinhard knows, so I wouldn't count on that. I think... no matter what, before you step foot in Pedeo, we've got to get you back to full strength."

Seteta glanced nervously in the direction of the stairwell, though. "We shouldn't linger long. Rheinhard will be suspicious and come looking for us, and you should definitely kiss me and muss me up a little so he thinks we've been occupied with... other things."

She turned her gaze up to his then, and it was filled with equal parts yearning and fear. She would very much like him to kiss her, either way. She was off-kilter again, and still under the influence of the drug, and needed the grounding.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon felt sick. There it was, another of Oor’s games meted out amongst the pair of them. Oor never lost control, he just loosened the rope to give Chaceledon enough slack to hang himself with. Of course this had all been a lesson. What had he been thinking? Panic rose in his throat and he fought it down as she pulled him up the stairs. She pulled him into a bedroom opposite the kitchen. Thankfully it had been affected by the cleaning spell; the bedding wasn’t rotten, but freshly fluffed and waiting for them. The only thing that gave a hint as to the room’s abandoned nature was a smashed mirror in the corner, and bottles of dried lotions and makeup scattered all over the floor.

Chaceledon listened to her, his hand going to his mouth. Of course Oor knew they were headed for Pedeo, but he didn’t want to make a scene. He just wanted Chaceledon to go into the Lion House...and walk out meek and mild. His own version of a pet collar, to humiliate Chaceledon. The dragon swallowed thickly, and opened the containment spell.

He made a small, barely perceptible noise of horror. Oor had done this in a coldly strategic manner. All of the loose gemstones were gone, as was much of the jewelry. The clothing didn’t anger him as much; he could always design more. For some reason, they paled in comparison to the fact that every single makeup bottle was missing. He hadn’t left so much as a tin of lip balm! The hand at his mouth went to his scalp. How was he supposed to get into Pedeo without his face? He couldn’t visit Pedeo ungroomed! The very idea tied knots in his gut.

His ears finally focused back in to Seteta talking about the Diamond pipe. “Koiros, all of my stashes are raw gemstone...useless without cuts and settings. He’s taken my tools, my makeup, the bastard didn’t leave me my eyebrow brush. He took my nails!” he whispered in horror. His nails. Oor knew how much he hated the fact he didn’t have fingernails. The idea that he might be a declawed dragon horrified him to no end. This was humiliation, until he walked right into the trap Oor had so neatly set in front of him.

Seteta pulled out the agate necklace, and Chaceledon flinched. “I made that for the day Klaus died, as a sign of protest. White is mourning in my culture.” he whispered quietly. Weakness. The stone necklace would make him cold. He gritted his teeth. “We have to assume Persian knows nothing about this. The man has loyalty to coin and knows my worth. I’ve been contracted for Auction twice now and both times had record profits. He’s nothing to gain by me being enslaved.”

Chaceledon paced, ignoring her point about Rheinhard. He felt bad enough hiding this conversation from the man let alone trying to cover it up. He ran a hand down his face, looking intently at the floorboards. “I could call in a favor to a Mesial Lord, but I’m not sure how long that would take.” he muttered. He had thought he’d slipped the lead and instead it had just been a farce. The threat against Seteta...

“If he touches you I’ll tear his arm off myself.” he growled under his breath. No one was touching Seteta like that.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"Chaceledon..." Seteta spoke his name softly, watching hesitantly as he stood across from her with discouragement and desperation written across his posture and face. She was unsure if she should reach out and try to comfort him. "Even if your stashes are raw gemstones, they're worth something. Even if Oor has confiscated your tools, we can obtain new ones." We could go back, she thought, back to the village Gaal razed and hope that no one else has come across it yet and taken everything away. He could acquire the basic tools from the smithy.

She set the necklace aside on a chest of drawers, flipping the towel over to cover it from sight.

"Makeup can be bought," she continued. "And perhaps he left alone the nails that you were wearing here. I didn't see him take them from the massage room."

Seteta approached him, reached out for his hand, stroking her thumb over his knuckles. "I've suspected that Oor was biding his time since the beginning. And I know... that you love Rheinhard dearly. That you want to trust him and not exclude him from any of this. But... sehejib, he is compromised. Through no fault of his own, but he is. Everything we say or do in front of him can make it back to Oor."

She paused a moment, chewing on her lower lip as she thought. "Perhaps... it would not hurt for Rheinhard to know about Oor, but then Oor would also know that I told you everything. You know best whether that will endanger us further or not, so I will leave it up to you.

"But we must have plans besides the ones that we put in place with Rheinhard. We must have options. And even if Oor sold half of your wardrobe and left the ugliest and cheapest options behind, knowing your taste and style even those are worth a fortune apiece. We are not without resources.

"But you, my love, have a choice to make. Which would you rather have: luxury or life?"

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon stiffened. “Options?” his tone was dangerous. “Seteta, there are no options. I’m not going to leave him behind and I’m not going to lie to him. I have never in my life lied to this boy and I’m not about to now. Klaus has always been Oor’s golden boy but I guarantee you it’s a fear of being abandoned.” He didn’t think for a moment Klaus would actually hurt him. He’d lived with him his entire life. Like most of the others, Chaceledon saw him as misunderstood. If they distracted Klaus from constantly seeking Oor’s approval, maybe the information leaks would stop?

Chaceledon chewed at his lip. It was a gamble. Klaus was unpredictable as a forest fire and twice as destructive, but Chaceledon still saw him as the scared orphan desperately flinging himself into the ring to get his master’s approval. He paced, brow furrowed. Seteta was right of course, they did have some recourse. But sell the last of his wardrobe? He checked it again. From what he could see, all Oor had left were the emotional pieces...pieces for the boys’ birthdays and funerals. The little bright spots in their captivity Oor would force him to burn to stay alive.

“It’s not just luxury, Seteta.” he said quietly, pulling out an embroidered robe. He held it, running his thumbs over the stitchwork. “This is all I have left of my boys when they were still alive. Every little happy moment is here, in these pieces. Would I ask you to pick apart a shrine for the stone?”

He sighed, the robe sagging in his arms. “I’ll sell these if I have to. But right now, I want to try and get out with them intact.” he shook his head. “I can try appeasing Klaus but there’s no guarantee it will do any good. Maybe you’re right. Maybe, as much as it hurts me, we can’t tell him.”
Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta's brow furrowed with confusion for a moment when Chaceledon's tone became dark, and her heart dropped into her stomach at his words.

“Options?” his tone was dangerous. “Seteta, there are no options. I’m not going to leave him behind and I’m not going to lie to him. I have never in my life lied to this boy and I’m not about to now. Klaus has always been Oor’s golden boy but I guarantee you it’s a fear of being abandoned.”

"Chaceledon," she spoke firmly. "Look at me. I swear, on my very life, that leaving Rheinhard behind was not among the options I meant for us to consider. I cannot promise that we will never be separated from him, but I promise I will not deliberately leave him behind for my own gain."

When he pulled out the embroidered robe, though, her heart ached to see the tenderness with which he held it. Touched it.

“This is all I have left of my boys when they were still alive. Every little happy moment is here, in these pieces. Would I ask you to pick apart a shrine for the stone?”

"It is not all you have left," she said, resting her hand over Chaceledon's heart. "The moments are truly here. The garments are just a connection to those memories. But there is also the Well. If as you say, it cannot be destroyed, then you will always have the Well. You can do more than just revisit those memories, you can visit them. Even if it isn't often."

She left the topic of the shrine untouched, for now. Because she would, unasked, destroy any shrine without second thought if it meant saving someone's life. But she knew her life had been far different than Chaceledon's so far. Even if he'd been enslaved... he'd been kept in the lap of luxury, to some extent, and it was easy to see that his life had been like that both with his dahn and with Oor. She'd learned to survive in the desert with nothing but the clothes on her back and, if she was lucky, a knife in hand. Nomadic life meant you didn't carry around much more than you actually needed, regardless of the memories attached to it.

He sighed, the robe sagging in his arms. “I’ll sell these if I have to. But right now, I want to try and get out with them intact.” he shook his head. “I can try appeasing Klaus but there’s no guarantee it will do any good. Maybe you’re right. Maybe, as much as it hurts me, we can’t tell him.”

"I hope you don't have to," she whispered. "But we've been too lax. We played our first hand, and too carelessly. Oor's responded, but he was somewhat careless as well. If he'd truly wanted me to bring you to heel with ease, he would have left your things untouched, so that you would never know. And that alone makes me not trust his offer to give me an estate of my own. In all likelihood, I would probably be handed over to Klaus as soon as Oor had you under control again."

Although I don't really know Klaus, I cannot think of anything else right now that would guarantee he'd move against Chaceledon like that. If anything, Klaus fears Chaceledon's feelings for me, and wants to make sure they don't sway the dragon away from him.

"We should head back down for dinner soon, though," she finished.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon listened to her. She was right. It was hard to give up on physical objects. It was something that united all dragons, really: the want to hoard objects. Wealth, gemstones, weapons, sentimental robes, it was all the same. Dragons had always cached, and for a man like Chaceledon giving up such a thing was difficult. He hated nature. He hated roughing it. He hated going without nice things...but his boys had done so their entire lives. Maybe he could stand to learn something from the Volkers’ tireless self-reliance.

He looked up at Seteta. “He doesn’t want me to come quietly. He wants me to come to him in tears. He’s let me have time to decide to come back on my own, now he just wants to hurt us. All three of us.” he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of a hand, and sighed heavily. He was taking some of the soap from the pet house. Damn being filthy. “Let’s go have some dinner.”

He headed back downstairs, messing with his hair thoughtfully as he went. Volker immediately fixed the pair of them with a look, but said nothing. He set their bowls in front of them. “I want you to eat all of that. In the desert game will be scarce, in the scrublands we will be competing with jin’ra. Now is the time to gain a small amount of weight.” Volker told Chaceledon sternly.

“...Fine.” For once Chaceledon didn’t argue, even though that made Volker raise an eyebrow.

“It will be another four days in the wet, then we will begin hitting coastal scrubland. Then we travel north in the deep sand to Pedeo.” Volker said, biting into a dumpling. “Auction will be happening if we manage to hit the new moon.”

“How ironic, slaves traveling to a slave auction.” Chaceledon grumbled.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

He looked up at Seteta. “He doesn’t want me to come quietly. He wants me to come to him in tears. He’s let me have time to decide to come back on my own, now he just wants to hurt us. All three of us.” he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of a hand, and sighed heavily. He was taking some of the soap from the pet house. Damn being filthy. “Let’s go have some dinner.”

Seteta smoothed the back of her fingers down Chaceledon's cheek. "You are stronger than that, sehejib. You are a dragon. You have survived 17,000 years of his captivity. Enough is enough."

They walked back downstairs together, Seteta trying to clear her mind and put a cheerful demeanor back in place. She didn't think a somber mood would do anything but make Rheinhard suspicious. Chaceledon... was a little too quiet, but she couldn't do anything about that without drawing more attention to the mood.

So Seteta just smiled and bit her lip when Rheinhard glared at them, demurely sat as he placed a bowl in front of her and Chaceledon. She subtly eyed Chaceledon as Rheinhard instructed him to eat all his food, an eyebrow arching when he... agreed. But she made no comment on it, just averted her gaze back to her own bowl of food, and scooped up a dumpling with her chopsticks.

The flavors that burst across her tongue were intense and vivid, and she wanted so badly to enjoy it that she found herself blinking back tears, ducking her head so they would go unnoticed. When she had herself under control again, she looked back up at Rheinhard with a smile. "It's delicious," she said. "All of your food has been so far, and I'm sorry if I've not said it yet."

She listened to what Rheinhard said about the next week of travel, swallowing a couple bites of rice.

"What are the jin'ra?" she asked.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

“Chaceledon fired six cooks in a week. Oor tore the last one’s head from his shoulders and told him if he wanted to eat he’d have to cook. We found a loophole.” Rheinhard told her, taking a bite of his rice. “I cooked for Chaceledon, Oor was less strained and less likely to send me on suicide missions, Chaceledon got to waste thousands of coin on complex dishes he barely touched. We all won.”

Chaceledon huffed a bit. “I did eat your cooking dear. Your father was always skilled at cooking but when he came to us I didn’t quite trust him with anything fire.” he was grateful to be off the topic of what they were doing upstairs. “Don’t get me wrong, Klaus was and is a darling boy. He sewed cats’ mouths shut and brought them to me so I’d have friends. It was the thought that counted. Poor thing, I thought the Anirans would hang him.”

“Volkers arent determined to enter the Well by birth. I was granted three years of a normal life; Evoth was granted nearly thirty. It depends on when the Well is ready, and you are ready. Klaus is the exception. He was born the way he is. His mother submitted him to an orphanage at nine, and burned their home so he could not follow.” Volker muttered. “He sodomized a young boy and fed him to the rest of the orphans in a soup. For tattling on him killing animals. I do not think Oor will try and give the Well to an infant again.”

“On a happier note, your great grandfather was a sweet man. Mm! Or Brade. My dashing sailor, he was a good son.” Chaceledon smiled softly at Volker. “You know you’re going to have to figure out how you want to handle all that, eventually. Find a man. I’d love to see babies again. Seteta you ought to have seen him when he was small. Big blue eyes the size of teacups. There is a spell one of the Summer Fae Lords came up with, you know, to let a man carry chil-“

“Jin’ra are lightly built predators on the Savannah’s and lowlands near the edges of Amol-Kalit. Around the size of hounds, black, fur less things with short rounded heads and sharp teeth. They hunt in packs but have no bravery alone. We will mainly be competing with them for food; they are notorious scavengers and thieves.” Volker interrupted Chaceledon. “We will have to find a way to hang the food.”

“Don’t interrupt your mother. There’s a spell that allows men like you, you know, who aren’t interested in Seteta’s kind, to have children. I’m sure there are bachelors in Pedeo, or Amol-Kalit. Maybe we’ll find someone in Annuakat.”

Volker picked up his bowl and headed for the back door, shutting it behind him with a foot. Chaceledon winced; perhaps that had been a bit too far. He just wanted Rheinhard to be happy...if only the man wasn’t so prickly. For someone who had faced actual wars, he certainly turned tail a lot. Perhaps if the opposing army had taken off their shirts and winked at him, so many of them wouldn’t have had to die.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta ate quietly as she listened to the conversation around her. The brutality of Klaus's actions didn't shock her. She'd seen worse things in the desert. Things Kaliti did to Abtati for sport. But she cringed internally when she realized exactly what was happening with Chaceledon.

He was not good at keeping secrets. Especially big ones. But he was hurting Rheinhard.

She tried to listen to what Rheinhard said about the jin'ra. She was less familiar with the far southern portions of Amol Kalit. When Chaceledon scolded him for interrupting, though, Rheinhard finally gave up, took his food, and left. Seteta bit at her lip before setting her chopsticks down.

"Chaceledon," Seteta spoke gently as she shifted in her seat to face him. "Perhaps you shouldn't discuss Rheinhard's lack of a mate for a while. I know you mean well, but... it's like back in the shop, when I first met you. You told me to stop speaking of escape unless I was actually going to help you. For him, right now, you're rubbing salt in an open wound."

She smiled fondly, then, and reached up to cup his face. "It's especially so since you've found some semblance of happiness lately. And I am sorry that I had to rub it in his face earlier."

Seteta pitched her voice low and quiet again. "I am sorry I've asked you to keep such a big secret from him. I know it's hard. But pushing him away and hurting him isn't going to help."

She pulled her hand away, and reached for her chopsticks again, finishing the last of her food. "Come now," she said, standing and taking her dishes to the sink. "Will the cleaning charm I activated earlier take care of the dirty dishes? Or do we need to do them ourselves? Then let's go retrieve our things from the wine cellar, and see what cosmetics and soaps we can salvage from this place. You probably shouldn't keep them in your... closet anymore, though."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon chewed his lip watching Rheinhard go outside. He knew the man ran from conversations like this, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. If his son was drowning in embarrassment he wouldn’t be focusing on how odd they’d been acting. He’d clearly hurt him, and he winced when Seteta brought up what he’d said back at the shop. She was right. It was rubbing salt in a wound, and Rheinhard was lonely enough as it was. Not to mention that the others wouldn’t be letting go of such fertile ground for mockery, having experienced the same themselves. Madmen made poor comfort.

“I didn’t know what to say to him. If he asked me straight out I couldn’t lie.” Chaceledon said quietly. “But you’re right. That was cruel. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He finished his food. The first good meal he’d had in a while...he fought down old hunger pangs. He didn’t like to feel full. Even after thousands of years he could see his mother glaring at empty dishes and her voice. Full means fat and fat means forlorn. He rubbed the back of his neck and fought down old memories, taking Seteta’s dishes for her.

He nodded in agreement. “We should report this to Pedeo as well when we arrive. Killing pets is seen as a personal slight by Persian. He puts so much time and effort...we should take some of their personal effects as well if we can find them.” he mentioned, pumping water into the sink from the spigot next to it. He looked at the back door, and he could hear Rheinhard chopping wood outside. No doubt to prepare for a chilly night. “Let’s see what we can take with us.” he offered to the elf.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta was glad to see Chaceledon actually eat a full meal for the first time since they'd met, though she wasn't sure if the slightly discomfort she saw in his eyes was because of how he'd acted to Rheinhard, the amount of food he'd eaten, or both. I don't care if his mother's a dragon, she thought. If she ever tries to feed solely cucumbers and water to any of our children, I will tear her to shreds with my bare hands.

Then her eyes widened a little, and she turned her face away from Chaceledon as realized exactly what she'd just thought. Children? Would that... even be possible between us? Then warmth bloomed over her face. Children. I would be so, so happy to have his children.

Then she shook her head and turned back to Chaceledon, listening as he spoke.

“We should report this to Pedeo as well when we arrive. Killing pets is seen as a personal slight by Persian. He puts so much time and effort...we should take some of their personal effects as well if we can find them.”

"Maybe we can use it," Seteta muttered thoughtfully. "Could we make Persian think that Oor attacked the pet house to set up an ambush for you? He wouldn't have been able to sneak in here, after all, if the pet house had been fully occupied."

“Let’s see what we can take with us.” he offered to the elf.

Seteta nodded, and proceeded to follow Chaceledon through the house for the next few hours. They worked their way from the cellar up, first gathering and setting aside their own personal items, and then Chaceledon helped her pick out the most valuable bottles of alcohol in hopes that they could sell them somewhere along the way, as well as picking out a few choice things for them to indulge in from time to time.

Through the upper levels, Seteta mostly just gathered bottles of cosmetics and bath products together for Chaceledon to pick through and choose what he wanted. As he did that, she began gathering any trinkets and personal items she found, ranging from what Chaceledon told her were pet tags--little portraits decorated around the edges that fit neatly in the palm of her hand--to discarded collars with their gems torn out of them, or even the occasional personal letter. She heard Chaceledon shout something joyfully about silks at one point.

When they made it up to the upper level, there were still personal items and cosmetics to sort through, but Seteta and Chaceledon mostly focused on what clothing could be found. Much of it was not practical for travel, but Seteta still found a few pieces here and there that looked like they would fit herself or Chaceledon--and rarely Rheinhard--that were more practical than luxurious and she set those aside, leaving Chaceledon to determine whether the rest were valuable enough to bother taking with them.

The sky was growing dark out the windows by the time they came to any semblance of a stopping point. "Would there be a stable here?" Seteta asked at last, looking around at the piles of... everything. They were not going to be able to take it all, regardless. "I'm sure whoever attacked the place took any horses, but maybe they left a wagon."

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Chaceledon sighed. “Good idea, but Oor wouldn’t have attacked pets. Pets are worth thousands, sometimes millions of gold pieces, just by themselves. It would be like setting a house on fire for the coins on the table.” he told her. “Not to mention the last two Volkers were out of Persian’s women. The last thing he’d do is burn that bridge.”

Chaceledon went upstairs and looked through belongings. Most of it was useless. Trinkets from visitors, gifts to each other. The collars and pet cards he helped Seteta collect, glancing at each card in turn. “Mostly pleasure pets but there was a scribe, an accountant, a chef, and a masseuse in house...gods, this one had medical training...what a bleeding waste.” Chaceledon shook his head in disgust. “If the Anirans had resold them, they’d have made more money than scratching up a few precious stones and taking every coin in the place. Humans.”

The dragon did find a collection of silks, which he joyfully folded. They needed to resell it as quickly as possible, but it was top quality. Unfortunately, the pillaging of the closet meant they couldn’t take everything. When Rheinhard came back in and looked at their pile, Chaceledon knew he’d be lucky to take a quarter of it.

“None of this is necessary.” Volker pointed out. “The silk we can sell, and we may take one or two packages of soap bars. Leave the jars of oil; if we break one we risk staining everything else.” He went into the kitchen and picked up the sack of rice. He eyed Seteta. “He is rubbing off on you if you chose cosmetics over food. We do not have time to make a caravan of this. Pare down.” He set the bag next to the door. “We sleep here tonight. I will tend to the horses; Rations will need his wounds bathed.”

Chaceledon winced a bit. As usual...the pragmatist was right. He picked up a few bundles of silk and a jar of lotion he couldn’t live without. The cosmetics went into the closet spell; that was just a risk he was going to have to take.

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

Seteta gave a quiet, frustrated sigh, but nodded when Chaceledon explained that Oor would never do this to the pets. If this was going to work, in the long term, it would be ideal to start driving a wedge between Oor and Persian somehow. To sow some seeds of mistrust...

When Rheinhard came in, Seteta had to bite her own lip to keep from spilling the secret. She almost--almost--made a remark about how it was necessary since Chaceledon didn't have his gemstones now. And gods that would have definitely given away Oor's meddling.

He eyed Seteta. “He is rubbing off on you if you chose cosmetics over food. We do not have time to make a caravan of this. Pare down.” He set the bag next to the door. “We sleep here tonight. I will tend to the horses; Rations will need his wounds bathed.”

"I figured the foodstuffs was obvious," Seteta retorted, though she did blush slightly because she had actually forgotten about sorting through the kitchen. She was too used to hunting and foraging as she traveled rather than taking much food along. Most food was difficult to preserve in the desert, and carrying a lot of it wasn't feasible unless you were in a caravan.

"Do you want help with the horses?" Seteta asked. "I can at least blindfold Rations for you."

The offer was probably too little, too late. Rheinhard had done the majority of the work with the horses already as they traveled through the swamps, and Seteta finished recovering from her injuries. The troll's mucus had sped her healing along, but not quite all the way. Still, though, she felt guilty for how much Rheinhard of the weight Rheinhard was pulling.

Chaceledon

 

[Chaceledon]

Volker nodded to her. "He will fight otherwise. I had to lay him out the other day." he said. He waited for her, hovering by the door until she decided to join him. He led her out to the stable, which seemed somehow lonelier with Rations and Mau inside of it. There was space for a good twenty horses, and their wagon besides. Volker had taken the liberty of laying aside some tack he still considered useable, and had pitched fresh hay to the horses. Mau was munching away contentedly. Rations was a bit bruised and scratched up, and one hoof was swollen.

"There is some arnica here for his foot. I want to get it bound with cloth so it has support while it's healing. It will be another day or so before we can increase the pace. Another three days before he can pull." Volker explained to Seteta. "It will build muscle in your mare, at least."

Both horses eyed Volker distrustfully, and Rations pinned his ears back. They were clearly not in the mood to put up with anything Volker wanted to do to them, so the killer waited until Seteta had Rations restrained before treating his foot. He bound it tightly, and rotated the horse's ankle to test his range of movement. "I need some time to myself tonight. Would you mind if another took over? Not Klaus. Aron has not seen daylight in a while." Volker said quietly, looking at the elf for her opinion. "He is not violent."

Seteta

 

[Seteta]

"Of course," Seteta said, and grabbed some of the garments she'd found and slipped into a nearby room to don them. She'd rather not wrestle horses in a bathrobe. She quickly tied her hair back and put her boots back on, then followed Rheinhard to the stable.

"There is some arnica here for his foot. I want to get it bound with cloth so it has support while it's healing. It will be another day or so before we can increase the pace. Another three days before he can pull." Volker explained to Seteta. "It will build muscle in your mare, at least."

Seteta nodded. Rations was a little more easily spooked than Mau in general, it seemed. She worked quickly to blindfold him and tether him to a stall before picking up his hoof for Rheinhard to tend to. Between the two of them, the job was quickly done.

"I need some time to myself tonight. Would you mind if another took over? Not Klaus. Aron has not seen daylight in a while." Volker said quietly, looking at the elf for her opinion. "He is not violent."

"Of course," Seteta answered, her eyes softening in understanding. She glanced down for a moment, twisting her fingers nervously. "I am... sorry, that my relationship with Chaceledon has been shoved into your face like this. And... I'm sorry for the incident in the kitchen earlier, when you were cooking. I got... caught up in the moment." It was the truth, in a sense. Just not all of it.

Chaceledon