Private Tales The Dangers of Dreaming of Adventures

[Melisandre]

They had spent days in the sky, flying from Malakath to Espressa. Melisandre Evreux was not used to this prolonged air travel, even with the assistance of magic to make the flight easier, her sinuses and her lower body were angry with her. She was angry with herself, knowing that this flight away from Thanasis was just her running from her problems. It was even worse when she put into perspective that the reason why she smelled worse than Eryx did was because of herself.

Even when the dragon and their rider had come to see land, they had instead decided to keep flying past the Iuk-‘U Delta and the island owned by naga. It took a two more days of straight flying to reach a lake that seemed secluded enough. They were both exhausted by the time Eryx had landed, breaking one too many cedar and pine trees that echoed in between the mountains.

Melisandre could only hope that the noise frightened the wildlife away instead of prompting for something to investigate. She began the excruciating process of extracting herself from the long-distance saddle used for Earendel dragons. Each one had to be custom made and fit on the neck where the golden spikes had been plucked when the dragons were young.

Eyrx put out her wing and the young woman stumbled over the prominent shoulder, nearly falling over and spearing herself on one of the many spikes along her dragon’s body. Eryx growled in annoyance and shook her large head. Melisandre tripped, falling the rest of the way down on her hands and knees.

“Yeah, well, I feel like a newborn fawn.” Melisandre sassed back, trying to ignore all the images of baby animals struggling to stand for the first time. She knew Eryx thought herself to be funny with the parallel but until Melisandre bathed, she had no room for jokes. Even if they were good jokes. Slowly she stood up. “Just wait here. A quick dip and I’ll be right as rain.” She lied. It was not going to be a quick dip and Eryx knew it. Still, the proud dragon was thankful to be back on land and so instead she laid down, resting her head on a few fallen cedar trees. Her throat rumbled once more.

“Yeah, and then we’ll figure out dinner.” Melisandre promised as Eryx sent her images of snapping bones and viscera. She wasn’t sure if she should be disgusted by the images presented to her or by the fact that her stomach growled after receiving them. “Just be patient for once. Maybe we’ll find you a bear or something.” Off Melisandre went to the lake, beginning to take off her leather gear and soon the cotton underneath. Eryx closed her eyes, snorting out a thick cloud of black smoke from her nostrils.

Malachi

 

[Malachi]

It was not an empty lake.

Their scent drew Malachi's attention, his nostrils flaring as he sifted through the air. Then, it was the crack of twigs and the sound of grit and sand underneath the weight of leather boots—the call of a feminine voice, weary but focused.

A thick brow rose, citrine eyes peering through the brush of cattails, high grass, and the line of cedar and pine trees sheltering the lake from view. Blunt fingers drew up, carding through the inky damp locks of hair to slick then back away from his face. This section had a line of mature willow trees, their heavy veil of branches allowing a measure of cover from aerial travelers, likely allowing Malachi’s bare figure to remain hidden while swimming under their verdant canopy.

His gear lay on dry ground along the thick root system of a nearby willow tree. They were not so out of the way that a passerby could miss them if they paid attention. Much like Melisandre, Malachi’s desire to wash the blood and grime from his travels brought him to the lake after completing a mission dealing with the Kelpie terrorizing the local villagers. What he had not expected were the additional visitors.

With uncanny predatory grace, Malachi sank into the water until it reached his neck, water trickling along his swarthy jaw as it gave a twitch in displeasure at being interrupted. Then, he quietly waded towards an overlook to gauge if the visitor was alone or with more company, as well as to determine if they were of concern or not.

 

[Melisandre]

Just as Melisandre was beginning to pull her tunic over her head, her foot caught on something and she tripped. She let go of her clothing, instead pushing her hands out in front of her to catch her. She landed on her hands and knees with a dramatic sigh. She must have been more tired than she had thought herself to be if a tree root was tripping her. She was just glad no one— even her dragon— had seen her. She pushed herself off from the ground, standing up and then looked back at the tree root.

There was no tree root— well, there was, but nothing big and gnarled enough to have made her trip over herself like she was a toddler. A dark brow quirked up, noticing the items to be the usual traveling gear. Maybe short of a few things, but the clothes and other items spoke of another. Melisandre quickly looked around, peering hard at the lake. She didn’t see anyone in the water, at least the part of it she had looked at.

Squatting low, she picked up the clothes, holding them out in front of her. First was a shirt, a wider cut to it which meant it either belonged to a man or a very large woman. She brought the fabric to her nose, begrudgingly so, and inhaled gingerly. Maybe if she were a dog she’d be able to smell if it belonged to a man or woman but all she knew from the shirt was that person most definitely needed that dip in the lake more than she did. Actually….

She dropped the shirt back to the ground and instead pulled the neckline of her tunic up her neck and over her chin to get a whiff of this too. This time, Melisandre had to hold back a gag of disgust. Right, so she needed the bath more. Dragons weren’t known to be the nicest smelling things, she supposed.

Malachi