Fantasy The Nature of Ice

[Thanny]

Had Vitalia witnessed the crackling and popping of Glacier's back, she would have been impressed by the hardiness of the mountain dragon girl and respected her ability to take the injury without complaining, but she would have also been likely to have tried to send her home. She was still quite happy, however, to have Glacier's assistance putting things on her back, the work getting more difficult with every new plant. The remark about nature dragons was not taken as too crass. It was a badge of honour to have that as the only thing nature dragons are known for.

With every single plant gathered, they were off. Origin lumbered forward, burdened under the weight of the plants with awkward, stumbling motions and considerable sway. Her eyes, slightly stinging from beads of tomato juice dripping down her forehead, peered through a small canopy of leaves and branch offshoots, then toward Glacier. Was the question asked of her, or perhaps rhetorically?

"Some battles," the nature dragon answered after a pause of consideration, "are better not fought, even if you have the strength to fight them. There's strength of character both in standing up for yourself and in avoiding conflict, and while I am thankful for your assistance, truly"--she gave a pleasant smile--"you can't keep your guard up all the time. Best to live as you best can without titles like 'the strong one.' Everyone carries weakness. For those two it's lack of brains and kindness."

Her expression drooped as she thought about what had happened back at the wagon, and what had been mentioned by the older dragon. Merrimac and Sanctus were gone from this town, from what she heard, and were probably better for it. She was left with hard memories living on her own in her home town.

"They will reap the consequences later. Not now, but later." Sniffing and wiping her nose and eyes, she perked up to stave off sadness. "So, Glacier, where do you live? When the workday is over, I'd like to invite you over for dinner. It's a bit far out of town near the cliff, but if you don't have plans, well, I'd be honoured to welcome you a bit more to my little shop."

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Sanctus winced but bore with the insults, used to the treatment. With a downcast countenance, he held the guitar by the neck and placed it down on the cemented dry stone next to him, the prison not rich enough to afford tables and chairs, not that they wanted to provide the possibility of improvised weapons. How the prisoner was allowed a guitar must have been an interesting story altogether, but an instrument in good working condition was not considered by Shine to be an effective weapon.

Dissatisfied with Merrimac's answer, as he was expecting something a little juicier or a hard verbal counter, Shine still nodded his head and looked over to the ruffian with the guitar. They both appeared quite strong. While Shine considered himself rather scrappy, the others seemed to have sparred quite regularly when outside bars. They would be trouble if they escaped. He staved off a shudder. The good news is that they didn't escape yet, meaning the bars were stronger than they were and their accomplices, if any, were none to be found or behind bars already. He didn't have anything to worry about.

"Right," he answered with a toothy grin, "well, I hope you two'll enjoy happy thoughts together. Mayhap he'll find you a song you'll enjoy."

With that, he walked off, the lantern bobbing with every step. Sanctus frowned at the free dragon, wishing he would be outside of the bars to crack the guitar over his noggin. However, before the thought could be completed a small shadow approached through the gloom. When the hood was struck off of the shadow's head with a brush of its hand, the face of a knee-high mountain dragon was revealed. Both Sanctus and Merrimac would recognise this face as Ylem, a member of their group and a master of hiding.

"Merri, Sanctus," whispered Ylem, head turning both ways to ensure security, "I give you a message. Tonight a group of us will cause some distractions within the town. We will provide an escape for everyone here in prison. In the meantime, have this. Be gentle with it."

Ylem, swift in his motions, provided a cloth to Merrimac with a hardened wax key inside, a replica to the skeleton key for every cell in this area of the prison.

"To aid in your escape. You'll know when the time comes to use it. Glory to the revolution!"

Ylem bolted off, gliding through the air on his small, imp-like wings to avoid making footsteps. Sanctus perked up, approaching the bars and looking over to Merrimac's cell.

"What is it? What is it?" he asked of his friend.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Pincer followed Joey's instructions carefully, but nothing could be done to remedy the shouting performed by the dragon who caught wind of their arrival. He went into overdrive mode, leading to the situation he was in right now with a knife aimed for his heart. On the ground now, holding off the cruel hooked blade from punching into his chest, he did the only thing he could do at the time. He let go with one hand.

This normally is a death sentence. With the strength of only one hand, he would be doomed to being stabbed. However, he had another idea in mind and put it into effect. He brought his forefinger and middle finger up to the enemy's chest and cast magic.

Electricity coursed through the enemy, nerves and muscles reacting on their own as Pincer essentially tased him. The weapon was flailed and flicked harmlessly away onto the ground close to a puddle, but Pincer felt quite winded from the action, not to mention sore from the kicks to the head. His own nerves felt slow, seized, using his body's natural electricity to double the enemy's and bind up his motions. Now without a weapon, this left him open to attacks from the others.

Boreal was swift to come in, a punch at the ready to slam into the enemy's skull while he was recuperating. It was not enough to kill outright, but it could disorient or knock the scout out.

 

[Dragonborn1]

Had Vitalia witnessed the crackling and popping of Glacier's back, she would have been impressed by the hardiness of the mountain dragon girl and respected her ability to take the injury without complaining, but she would have also been likely to have tried to send her home. She was still quite happy, however, to have Glacier's assistance putting things on her back, the work getting more difficult with every new plant. The remark about nature dragons was not taken as too crass. It was a badge of honour to have that as the only thing nature dragons are known for.

With every single plant gathered, they were off. Origin lumbered forward, burdened under the weight of the plants with awkward, stumbling motions and considerable sway. Her eyes, slightly stinging from beads of tomato juice dripping down her forehead, peered through a small canopy of leaves and branch offshoots, then toward Glacier. Was the question asked of her, or perhaps rhetorically?

"Some battles," the nature dragon answered after a pause of consideration, "are better not fought, even if you have the strength to fight them. There's strength of character both in standing up for yourself and in avoiding conflict, and while I am thankful for your assistance, truly"--she gave a pleasant smile--"you can't keep your guard up all the time. Best to live as you best can without titles like 'the strong one.' Everyone carries weakness. For those two it's lack of brains and kindness."

Her expression drooped as she thought about what had happened back at the wagon, and what had been mentioned by the older dragon. Merrimac and Sanctus were gone from this town, from what she heard, and were probably better for it. She was left with hard memories living on her own in her home town.

"They will reap the consequences later. Not now, but later." Sniffing and wiping her nose and eyes, she perked up to stave off sadness. "So, Glacier, where do you live? When the workday is over, I'd like to invite you over for dinner. It's a bit far out of town near the cliff, but if you don't have plans, well, I'd be honoured to welcome you a bit more to my little shop."

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Sanctus winced but bore with the insults, used to the treatment. With a downcast countenance, he held the guitar by the neck and placed it down on the cemented dry stone next to him, the prison not rich enough to afford tables and chairs, not that they wanted to provide the possibility of improvised weapons. How the prisoner was allowed a guitar must have been an interesting story altogether, but an instrument in good working condition was not considered by Shine to be an effective weapon.

Dissatisfied with Merrimac's answer, as he was expecting something a little juicier or a hard verbal counter, Shine still nodded his head and looked over to the ruffian with the guitar. They both appeared quite strong. While Shine considered himself rather scrappy, the others seemed to have sparred quite regularly when outside bars. They would be trouble if they escaped. He staved off a shudder. The good news is that they didn't escape yet, meaning the bars were stronger than they were and their accomplices, if any, were none to be found or behind bars already. He didn't have anything to worry about.

"Right," he answered with a toothy grin, "well, I hope you two'll enjoy happy thoughts together. Mayhap he'll find you a song you'll enjoy."

With that, he walked off, the lantern bobbing with every step. Sanctus frowned at the free dragon, wishing he would be outside of the bars to crack the guitar over his noggin. However, before the thought could be completed a small shadow approached through the gloom. When the hood was struck off of the shadow's head with a brush of its hand, the face of a knee-high mountain dragon was revealed. Both Sanctus and Merrimac would recognise this face as Ylem, a member of their group and a master of hiding.

"Merri, Sanctus," whispered Ylem, head turning both ways to ensure security, "I give you a message. Tonight a group of us will cause some distractions within the town. We will provide an escape for everyone here in prison. In the meantime, have this. Be gentle with it."

Ylem, swift in his motions, provided a cloth to Merrimac with a hardened wax key inside, a replica to the skeleton key for every cell in this area of the prison.

"To aid in your escape. You'll know when the time comes to use it. Glory to the revolution!"

Ylem bolted off, gliding through the air on his small, imp-like wings to avoid making footsteps. Sanctus perked up, approaching the bars and looking over to Merrimac's cell.

"What is it? What is it?" he asked of his friend.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Pincer followed Joey's instructions carefully, but nothing could be done to remedy the shouting performed by the dragon who caught wind of their arrival. He went into overdrive mode, leading to the situation he was in right now with a knife aimed for his heart. On the ground now, holding off the cruel hooked blade from punching into his chest, he did the only thing he could do at the time. He let go with one hand.

This normally is a death sentence. With the strength of only one hand, he would be doomed to being stabbed. However, he had another idea in mind and put it into effect. He brought his forefinger and middle finger up to the enemy's chest and cast magic.

Electricity coursed through the enemy, nerves and muscles reacting on their own as Pincer essentially tased him. The weapon was flailed and flicked harmlessly away onto the ground close to a puddle, but Pincer felt quite winded from the action, not to mention sore from the kicks to the head. His own nerves felt slow, seized, using his body's natural electricity to double the enemy's and bind up his motions. Now without a weapon, this left him open to attacks from the others.

Boreal was swift to come in, a punch at the ready to slam into the enemy's skull while he was recuperating. It was not enough to kill outright, but it could disorient or knock the scout out.

To Origin, her question seemed to have missed Glacier as she just stared forward.
“I live at the barracks, you can’t miss it. Large, noisy with shouts and the clash of weapons, yeah, that’s my home.”
She stated as her own badge of honor.
The path they stood on rounded out of OceanSide and now instead of buildings they’re met with a large sea of grass. It waved as the trade winds blew strongly, Glacier hasn’t seen anything like it and kept staring at it even after they passed it. Glacier’s head repeated Origin’s question yelling into her ear to decoine the offer. On one hand, over the deafening shouts, the anxious voice repeating Snapjaw’s words argued.
”I can’t!“
Glacier blurted suddenly.
”I mean…” Glacier sighed.
”Thanks for your offer but I’ll think about it.”

The stone path winded on a straightaway path to a house. The place‘s design is different from other styles in the village. A upside down V shaped roof with a swaying lantern hanging. A white fence guarded the lot, what it guarded is a small garden with a variety of plants. All swayed in the trade winds.
Glacier pushed open the gate, being the one to knock on the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scout’s eyes widened their pupils shrinking. His body froze, muscles spasming somehow he fought through it standing over the defenseless Pincer for another attack.
The scout’s world turned upside down a powerful punch cracked his jaw, sending the young dragon to the ground. They held their jaw holding their chin to try to realign it.
“Nice find Pincer.”
The fimiliar voice of Joey came closer as Boreal let him pass. The rest of the Titan 5 observed Pincer’s catch. Each one gave little remorse for the scout. Mightywing showed the most enthusiasm, the thought of killing them is strong. The scout’s eyes swiveled staring at the Titan 5, then his eyes fell onto Pincer, giving him a pitiful stare.Joey’s form overshadowed the young ones. The scout’s eyes were still wide all the adrenaline causing them to hyperventilate.
Joey dropped down to their level.
”Do you really think inexperienced dragons like yourself be doing this?”

”We- I”

Joey holds up his hand to stop them. “Don’t answer that..”

”Listen, I wanna help the war effort in any way I can!“

”You chose the wrong side, kid! You’re way over your head.”

”I’m doing it for my brother! He’s young, around 8,we barely escaped because yo-you maniacs! And don’t call me a KID my name is Buster.”

Joey cracks a smile emptying his holster. The scout having the barrel of the gun pointed at his chest.
”I don’t like your tone..”

”Please! Let me and my brother out of this. I’ll take him and we’ll defect.“

“Ehhhh…to late for that. If you go back you and your brother will be interrogated, tortured, then if they find no more use for you, kill you.”

The kid continued to plea, only falling on deaf ears. Joey soon got annoyed and smacked the scout again. Then Buster stared down the barrel of the pistol.
”WAITWAITWAIT! I know things about the compound, if you let me live I’ll show you.”

”You’ll just blow our cover..”

”No! I won’t! I swe-“

A blinding light Disipated in a split second and ‘Buster’ was no longer moving nor breathing. The kid died with a look of pain upon their face..

 

[Thanny]

Origin could not help herself from tittering at the description of a barracks. Such an onslaught of masculinity was bound to have a few shouts and clashes of weapons, and it was a marvel to her that someone like Glacier would put up with it enough to live there rather than take to a new opportunity. Perhaps, she sadly thought, that was how the world was and there was precious little to change about it. Still, she was happy. She made a new friend today, and from an unlikely source at that.

The "I can't!" came rather suddenly, earning shock from the nature dragon, but Vitalia was happy to hear that the offer was at least contemplated in the end. She dipped her head into a slow, uncertain nod, then looked ahead. Perhaps she didn't have a new friend. Perhaps that too was how the world was.

~~ ~~ ~~

The journey's end was finished within the hour, and the last of the plants was deposited safely at its destination. Origin returned to her shop, tended to a few things, and by day's end at 1500 hours migrated back home to get ready for dinner and tend to her personal garden.

She was proud of her plot of land, almost just enough to be managed with the rest of the overgrowth tended to to some degree. The white-picket wooden fence housed her plant babies for the most part, flower bushes towering over the ivory crests of the fence. Fruits and vegetables had plenty of sunlight and moisture, and her house, a hybrid of overground and underground, sat happily with the support of root ball systems from a set of trees, one dead, one alive and too tended to by Origin. Taking some fresh items from her garden, she went inside and cooked them up into a steamy, bubbling minestrone soup with a light salad of cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce, enough for two if Glacier intended to come.

A rap at the door assured that this was so. With a smile, Vitalia attacked her shell with a self-conscious brushing and patting motion and headed for the almost oval front door, opening it up with a knob to the side.

"Come in," she stated with a smile, ushering her new acquaintance inside.

The entry room, meant for the comfortable living of one with some thought of company, also doubled as a dining room. The dead tree from above's trunk now served as a solid dining table and squat chairs, the top surface of the table laid out with mismatching wooden and metal cutlery. The smell promised that good food was on the way, though also hinted of moss, wet wood, and damp dirt. Gardening logs and storybooks lined a cavity in the far wall.

"I hope you would not mind the mess! Not many people visit me. It's not much, but it's home. Can I get you anything while the soup finishes cooking? Tea? Water?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer watched the exchange with a dry mouth. On one side of the conversation was the man who had nearly kicked his teeth loose and shish-kebab'ed him. On the other side was Pincer likely revelling in the fact that he had the man at his mercy. For some reason, he pitied the man on the other end of the trigger. Maybe it was the story, or the pitiless gaze in Joey's eyes, or the sense of Pincer's own inability to speak up. If he did, was there any chance of living for him? Would he be next to fall to a bullet?

Think. Think think think! he thought to himself, urging his muscles to move or mouth to speak. They came too slowly. Buster, as he called himself, was dead, his face contorted and frozen in pain and fear.

The instant death brought bile up from Pincer's throat. He caught it halfway and swallowed it down, shudders passing through his entire body as his mind wanted to retch but body revolted against it. Anger lanced through him as he eyed Joey.

"Sir, that was a poor move," he began slowly. "He held information we could have used, and with enough hazing or incentive could have been an extra body for the Empire, as well as his brother. You didn't need to kill him. Now we're back to square one."

 

[Dragonborn1]

Origin could not help herself from tittering at the description of a barracks. Such an onslaught of masculinity was bound to have a few shouts and clashes of weapons, and it was a marvel to her that someone like Glacier would put up with it enough to live there rather than take to a new opportunity. Perhaps, she sadly thought, that was how the world was and there was precious little to change about it. Still, she was happy. She made a new friend today, and from an unlikely source at that.

The "I can't!" came rather suddenly, earning shock from the nature dragon, but Vitalia was happy to hear that the offer was at least contemplated in the end. She dipped her head into a slow, uncertain nod, then looked ahead. Perhaps she didn't have a new friend. Perhaps that too was how the world was.

~~ ~~ ~~

The journey's end was finished within the hour, and the last of the plants was deposited safely at its destination. Origin returned to her shop, tended to a few things, and by day's end at 1500 hours migrated back home to get ready for dinner and tend to her personal garden.

She was proud of her plot of land, almost just enough to be managed with the rest of the overgrowth tended to to some degree. The white-picket wooden fence housed her plant babies for the most part, flower bushes towering over the ivory crests of the fence. Fruits and vegetables had plenty of sunlight and moisture, and her house, a hybrid of overground and underground, sat happily with the support of root ball systems from a set of trees, one dead, one alive and too tended to by Origin. Taking some fresh items from her garden, she went inside and cooked them up into a steamy, bubbling minestrone soup with a light salad of cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce, enough for two if Glacier intended to come.

A rap at the door assured that this was so. With a smile, Vitalia attacked her shell with a self-conscious brushing and patting motion and headed for the almost oval front door, opening it up with a knob to the side.

"Come in," she stated with a smile, ushering her new acquaintance inside.

The entry room, meant for the comfortable living of one with some thought of company, also doubled as a dining room. The dead tree from above's trunk now served as a solid dining table and squat chairs, the top surface of the table laid out with mismatching wooden and metal cutlery. The smell promised that good food was on the way, though also hinted of moss, wet wood, and damp dirt. Gardening logs and storybooks lined a cavity in the far wall.

"I hope you would not mind the mess! Not many people visit me. It's not much, but it's home. Can I get you anything while the soup finishes cooking? Tea? Water?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer watched the exchange with a dry mouth. On one side of the conversation was the man who had nearly kicked his teeth loose and shish-kebab'ed him. On the other side was Pincer likely revelling in the fact that he had the man at his mercy. For some reason, he pitied the man on the other end of the trigger. Maybe it was the story, or the pitiless gaze in Joey's eyes, or the sense of Pincer's own inability to speak up. If he did, was there any chance of living for him? Would he be next to fall to a bullet?

Think. Think think think! he thought to himself, urging his muscles to move or mouth to speak. They came too slowly. Buster, as he called himself, was dead, his face contorted and frozen in pain and fear.

The instant death brought bile up from Pincer's throat. He caught it halfway and swallowed it down, shudders passing through his entire body as his mind wanted to retch but body revolted against it. Anger lanced through him as he eyed Joey.

"Sir, that was a poor move," he began slowly. "He held information we could have used, and with enough hazing or incentive could have been an extra body for the Empire, as well as his brother. You didn't need to kill him. Now we're back to square one."

Glacier followed the trail up to Origin’s home. Her shadow encompasses the wooden door raising her claw up in a fist to knock.
Why is she doing this? Is it because of what Snapjaw said about having friends? And her new friend being a Nature dragon, the encounter with routy villagers earlier stoll made her blood boil. With no control she automatically knocked.
As she was let inside, her gaze reached the dead tree as a table snd chairs. Seeing how odd that was is an understatement, even though the cafeteria isn’t perfect either that just seemed unsanitary. Origin’s question flew over her head as she explored. The air entering her sinuses smelled the naturey smells mixed with fresh cooked food.
Oddly Glacer ran her claw along the book spines on the bookshelf. On top she noticed a picture frame with her reflection in the glass. A family of Nature dragons, she guessed Origin’s, with two others which she guessed were her parents.
If Origin asked her question again, Glacier snapped out of her trance.
”Oh! Um, water is ok. Thanks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

”Or he could’ve been dangerous. You remember what command said about these defectors. Besides, there’s still his brother we can question.” Joey looked towards the sky, noting the sun‘s angle towards the horizon. “Team, pack up, we’re bunking in the ruins tonight. Pincer and Boreal you’re on first watch.”

The sun‘s light lost touch with the land and a light rain fell. The Titan 5 found a home with dotted holes in the roof and missing portions of the wall. None of the rest of the Titan 5 could escape the dripping of the rain onto their heads as they slept. Meanwhile Boreal and Pincer stood outside exposed to the rain and cold, they couldn’t see too far because of the dim light..

 

[Thanny]

Origin paused to analyse her guest before slipping off to deliver a cup of water. The girl before her was probably contemplating her own situation, or perhaps was intrigued by the oil painting of two nature dragons sitting for a portrait. The male of the duo was gnarled by age and weaving roots, the shell encompassing him burdensome, nigh-crippling. The lady, a somber and elegant individual, pulled off an aristocratic appearance. In her hands were two eggs, their white shells mottled with brown and blue.

Returning after stirring the pot, she set waters down on the ringed table before the two of them, reclining her lower carapace on one of the immobile chairs with a sharp exhale.

"Those in the portrait are my parents," Vitalia offered, smiling self-consciously and offering the seat, "if that is what you were looking at. Good people. Special people. Taught me most of everything I know about plants, among other things. They helped me build this home as well, all of which lumped up is the reason I like to keep them in line of sight. Haven't seen them in four years now, what with the distance and the business . . . and the war."

She huffed a sigh and drank of her water, the cool, refreshing taste coating her dry throat.

"I hope good things will come of all three. To shrink the distance, to make business grow, and for the war to end would make me a bit happier, you know? What about you, Glacier? Do you harbour any dreams?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer kept his expression as emotionless as he could in front of Joey, but when Joey turned he transferred all of the anger, the fear, the raw emotion into his hand and swung it harmlessly at his side. He might have had a life in his hands and missed the opportunity to save him. Or, perhaps, his original assessment was right: he could have died there with Buster. Either way, he would have to live with the survivor's guilt.

First watch was best to him. He was not going to sleep anytime soon anyway, but the peppering rain was wet and miserable, seeping into the clothes and pack, and chilling his scales, especially around his dog tags. At least Boreal was nearby to keep him company. Pincer felt at the small gun at his side, a secondary relief in the miserable conditions. Rain clouded sight and blotted sound. Out of everything, a moonlit sky would have been far, far more welcome. At least his field book was weather-resistant.

"Boreal," he asked, fitful for conversation, "is this still what you thought our first mission would be like? A dream come true?"

His eyes went out to his companion, shrouded by water-glossed brows hunched overhead like heavy umbrellas.

 

[Dragonborn1]

Origin paused to analyse her guest before slipping off to deliver a cup of water. The girl before her was probably contemplating her own situation, or perhaps was intrigued by the oil painting of two nature dragons sitting for a portrait. The male of the duo was gnarled by age and weaving roots, the shell encompassing him burdensome, nigh-crippling. The lady, a somber and elegant individual, pulled off an aristocratic appearance. In her hands were two eggs, their white shells mottled with brown and blue.

Returning after stirring the pot, she set waters down on the ringed table before the two of them, reclining her lower carapace on one of the immobile chairs with a sharp exhale.

"Those in the portrait are my parents," Vitalia offered, smiling self-consciously and offering the seat, "if that is what you were looking at. Good people. Special people. Taught me most of everything I know about plants, among other things. They helped me build this home as well, all of which lumped up is the reason I like to keep them in line of sight. Haven't seen them in four years now, what with the distance and the business . . . and the war."

She huffed a sigh and drank of her water, the cool, refreshing taste coating her dry throat.

"I hope good things will come of all three. To shrink the distance, to make business grow, and for the war to end would make me a bit happier, you know? What about you, Glacier? Do you harbour any dreams?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer kept his expression as emotionless as he could in front of Joey, but when Joey turned he transferred all of the anger, the fear, the raw emotion into his hand and swung it harmlessly at his side. He might have had a life in his hands and missed the opportunity to save him. Or, perhaps, his original assessment was right: he could have died there with Buster. Either way, he would have to live with the survivor's guilt.

First watch was best to him. He was not going to sleep anytime soon anyway, but the peppering rain was wet and miserable, seeping into the clothes and pack, and chilling his scales, especially around his dog tags. At least Boreal was nearby to keep him company. Pincer felt at the small gun at his side, a secondary relief in the miserable conditions. Rain clouded sight and blotted sound. Out of everything, a moonlit sky would have been far, far more welcome. At least his field book was weather-resistant.

"Boreal," he asked, fitful for conversation, "is this still what you thought our first mission would be like? A dream come true?"

His eyes went out to his companion, shrouded by water-glossed brows hunched overhead like heavy umbrellas.

Glacier listened to Origin reassesing the portrait. She wondered for Origin’s sake her parents were still alive. She remembers hearing about abandoned Nature dragon settlements, wether theyre Almost extinct she didn’t know. She rubbed her finger over the two eggs.
”I want to join the war, make the world better than it already is. You’re lucky you knew and spent time with your family. My mom passed when I was still an egg.”
Her head is facing the floor leaning against the wall next to the portrait.
”My dad and I had a business in the mountains. I chopped wood and sold it to others who needed it. I became a guard not by choice, Snapjaw, the one you spoke to, is like a father to me now.”
She shook her head to rid the sadness.
”Nevermind, it’s fine. I don’t need to go on about my own story. Its not important.”
When pushing herself off the wall she pushed something loose, a book plopped from the shelf quickily picking it up and dusting off the dirt. Curiosity, she flipped it open not asking for permission from Origin. The first picture on the page being two boys. one boy tpeered about Origin and the other kid. The second shorter one wore a leather vest with fur lining, they had a more innocent smile like Origin’s. The taller ones smile was more tougher, like a guardian. the caption read.
’First snow festival with Origin’s friends’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boreal’s eyes stared at a book none like the military grade one issued to soldiers. He seemed super invested, his eyes skimmed the page and licking his claw as he flipped to the next. At Pincer’s question, he placed a bookmark casually into where he stopped and closed the book.
”You tell me Pincer. Is this everything you thought itd be like? It’s better to have a purpose than being a nobody. Like this book I’m reading.”
He held it up for Pincer to see.
”You want to be the main character? Being known as a hero, a somebody rather than a nobody. Recognized for your efforts in making a difference. Or be a side character, someone overshadowed, trampled, someone who’s not recognized. If we were back in Oceanside all we’d be doing is solving the simplest dispute, clean griffiti, and help the elderly cross the street. With this, yes there’s risk, but yo‘ll be honored as a hero. Just think of that, Pincer.”
He gave a playful noogie to Pincer’s scalie head.
”As for Mr Joey over there, just go with it. I don’t like his tactics as much as you do but I just keep it to myself.”

 

[Thanny]

Origin's heart sank when Glacier mentioned that she wanted to join the war, but she nodded anyway. What could she expect? The mountain dragon was a warrior at heart and admirable in her physical prowess. The war would only benefit from her, but would she benefit from it, especially with a past like hers?

"I'm sorry. Perhaps it was in poor taste that I brought up the question, seeing you so somber, but I'm glad you have a parental figure nearby." She beamed a smile, then her gaze caught the book that fell and was inspected. "Ah! Please be careful with that. That book is just as special to me."

A kettle whistled in the far back requiring immediate attention, and also reminding of the boiling soup still over the fire.

"I'll be right back. Everything should be ready now. P-please don't check further!" she spoke hastily, slipping from her chair and off into the kitchen.

If Glacier was more curious, the back of the loose photograph would read "Vitalia O., Age 7 w/ Sanctus W. and Merrimac G." The paper, once fine, was quite crinkled from the damp condition of the house, and yellowed at the edges. More information embarrassing and childish could be sifted from the pages through pictures and prose before halting abruptly eleven years ago at Age 12.

Origin came back a minute later, laden with wide salad bowls, plates, and saucers, and in two more minutes the table was completely set. Salads and soups were laid out, earthy scents spilling forth from both. She became so busy that she forgot about the book, then offered a chair beside her again.

"I hope you don't mind vegetables. I am not much of one for meat. Goes with my nature, one could say," she chuckled, waving herself off for the pun. Seriousness collected, she leaned forward with curiosity. "If I may, because I ask most anyone this . . . what is it like to fly?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer had to marvel that Boreal had his head in a book in the rain, but wished he could do the same. His book of poetry he kept sealed away from the wet weather with the emaciated rations. It gave him solace. It gave him peace of mind. Perhaps later, when the rain stops, he might find counsel in its pages.

"That's a good idea, Boreal. Thank you," he said with a grin, rubbing his head. He meant it, but unfortunately he still did not find as much comfort in Boreal's words. He did not see himself as a protagonist except for his own life. Others came first, no exception, but he did not see the help he would accomplish with the death of those considered enemies. Wouldn't he cut short the lives of other protagonists of their own lives? That sat like a weighty stone in his stomach. How much more would it take to kill the guilt, feast or famine of draconic lives? Would he be better off serving elsewhere?

Treason, he reminded himself, wide-eyed at his own thoughts. Defecting was a serious crime, and thinking of defecting equally grave. How dare he question the goodness of his emperor and country? And yet . . .

"What book are you readi--" he started, trying to stave off his thoughts, then catching a light in the darkness. It waved about like a intense torch, but focused only before the source. A lantern? Whatever it was, he ducked down and hoped it would turn off. "Boreal, a light, over there. Get down. I'll check it out if I can."

Pincer pulled out his field glasses, looking through them. The rain did not allow much view, but he hoped he could see something better through them than with the naked eye.

((This is for an option of involvement if desired, but the flashlight bearer can turn away elsewhere. Let me know what you would do. =) ))

 

[Dragonborn1]

Origin's heart sank when Glacier mentioned that she wanted to join the war, but she nodded anyway. What could she expect? The mountain dragon was a warrior at heart and admirable in her physical prowess. The war would only benefit from her, but would she benefit from it, especially with a past like hers?

"I'm sorry. Perhaps it was in poor taste that I brought up the question, seeing you so somber, but I'm glad you have a parental figure nearby." She beamed a smile, then her gaze caught the book that fell and was inspected. "Ah! Please be careful with that. That book is just as special to me."

A kettle whistled in the far back requiring immediate attention, and also reminding of the boiling soup still over the fire.

"I'll be right back. Everything should be ready now. P-please don't check further!" she spoke hastily, slipping from her chair and off into the kitchen.

If Glacier was more curious, the back of the loose photograph would read "Vitalia O., Age 7 w/ Sanctus W. and Merrimac G." The paper, once fine, was quite crinkled from the damp condition of the house, and yellowed at the edges. More information embarrassing and childish could be sifted from the pages through pictures and prose before halting abruptly eleven years ago at Age 12.

Origin came back a minute later, laden with wide salad bowls, plates, and saucers, and in two more minutes the table was completely set. Salads and soups were laid out, earthy scents spilling forth from both. She became so busy that she forgot about the book, then offered a chair beside her again.

"I hope you don't mind vegetables. I am not much of one for meat. Goes with my nature, one could say," she chuckled, waving herself off for the pun. Seriousness collected, she leaned forward with curiosity. "If I may, because I ask most anyone this . . . what is it like to fly?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer had to marvel that Boreal had his head in a book in the rain, but wished he could do the same. His book of poetry he kept sealed away from the wet weather with the emaciated rations. It gave him solace. It gave him peace of mind. Perhaps later, when the rain stops, he might find counsel in its pages.

"That's a good idea, Boreal. Thank you," he said with a grin, rubbing his head. He meant it, but unfortunately he still did not find as much comfort in Boreal's words. He did not see himself as a protagonist except for his own life. Others came first, no exception, but he did not see the help he would accomplish with the death of those considered enemies. Wouldn't he cut short the lives of other protagonists of their own lives? That sat like a weighty stone in his stomach. How much more would it take to kill the guilt, feast or famine of draconic lives? Would he be better off serving elsewhere?

Treason, he reminded himself, wide-eyed at his own thoughts. Defecting was a serious crime, and thinking of defecting equally grave. How dare he question the goodness of his emperor and country? And yet . . .

"What book are you readi--" he started, trying to stave off his thoughts, then catching a light in the darkness. It waved about like a intense torch, but focused only before the source. A lantern? Whatever it was, he ducked down and hoped it would turn off. "Boreal, a light, over there. Get down. I'll check it out if I can."

Pincer pulled out his field glasses, looking through them. The rain did not allow much view, but he hoped he could see something better through them than with the naked eye.

((This is for an option of involvement if desired, but the flashlight bearer can turn away elsewhere. Let me know what you would do. =) ))

She shouldnt…agh but the crushing curiosity pushed her. She scanned the words on the back. Sanctus and Merrimac? It looked like simpiler times without the war, the happiness on their faces she guessed this was before the discrimination against her kind. She shifted page after page to learn more, upon hearing Orin returning he closed the book and slipped it back. She joined Origin at the table shifting at the weird sensation of sitting on damp wood.
The question Origin laid upon her puzzled her.
”Nature dragons can’t fly? Don’t you have other ways of fly other than your wings? You’re known for nature magic why don’t you try using that?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boreal noticed them too pushing Pincer’s head down to evade the beam. He tapped Pincer’s shoulder, the shape of his rifle in the darkness is used to motion for them to move out. Outside the safety of their hideout, Pincer’s field glasses observed a group of dragons only one lantern scanned over their hiding place, it turned out to be two more beams of light. Again Boreal tapped Pincer’s shoulder, as his form vanished into some vegetation the light swam over Pincer several times as both dragons army crawled along a low wall of rubble.
While they crawled closer, wet slaps of muck rushed closer.
”How is she?” Said one voice.
”Not good sir, she’s devastated. Her other son insists on helping us search. When I declined, he threw a fit, he misses his older brother.”
The secondary voice responded.
”All he had to do was scout out a supply convoy and return.”
”Sir, you think he’s…dead?”
”Don‘t speak like that! We’ll find them.”

Boreal poked over the rubble when the voices stopped. His rifle rested upon it with one eye glancing through the sight.
“Your call Pincer. Remember what I said? wanna be the hero?”

 

[Thanny]

Vitalia poked at the greens of her salad distractedly as her dragon wings swayed limply behind her.

"Well, to be honest, the nature magic is what inhibits us from flying. Boiling everything down, our shells keep us tethered to the ground. The only way to be able to fly, I have heard, is to doff one's shell, but you lose the connection with the earth. I might not be able to get my magic back without its blessing, or it might take years, or even decades." She sighed, shaking her head. "I would be nothing without my skills. Though I guess it might be freeing, it would also free me from tradition. That is among the worst things for me."

She looked up, frightened more from being a poor host than retribution, and there was that small inkling of fear because she did not know Glacier too well, but there was something else:
trust. Perhaps she should expand upon that.

"But enough about that. Flying: do you like it? Do you love it?"

Taking up a soup spoon, she drank in the taste of minestrone with relish, in her opinion her best yet. Hopefully the bitter salad leaves did not clash horribly with the oiled dressing, though the soup would help.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Moving through the terrain was both familiar and foreign, old bruises and scrapes remembered as he clambered to cover with Boreal. He settled in, peeking through his field glasses and listening in. What was heard crushed his heart. A mother and two brothers, one missing. Could it be that they were talking about Buster? A cold beyond the rain encompassed him.

“Your call Pincer. Remember what I said? Wanna be the hero?”

Pincer looked over in the direction of the others, uncertain. From the boots the others seemed to be veering off from where they and the sleeping Titan 5 were, though it was tough to say due to their verbal silence. He did not have reason to suspect they knew of Boreal's and Pincer's presence.

"Leave them be," he whispered back. "They do not know where we are and where . . . Buster, his name was, is. Unless they pose an immediate threat, their continued living will be our benefit."

His head tilted to listen further to the squelching of feet, hand retrieving his field glasses and placing it in a burlap bag. His hand was close to the handgun holstered under his arm, just in case he was incorrect.

 

[Dragonborn1]

Vitalia poked at the greens of her salad distractedly as her dragon wings swayed limply behind her.

"Well, to be honest, the nature magic is what inhibits us from flying. Boiling everything down, our shells keep us tethered to the ground. The only way to be able to fly, I have heard, is to doff one's shell, but you lose the connection with the earth. I might not be able to get my magic back without its blessing, or it might take years, or even decades." She sighed, shaking her head. "I would be nothing without my skills. Though I guess it might be freeing, it would also free me from tradition. That is among the worst things for me."

She looked up, frightened more from being a poor host than retribution, and there was that small inkling of fear because she did not know Glacier too well, but there was something else:
trust. Perhaps she should expand upon that.

"But enough about that. Flying: do you like it? Do you love it?"

Taking up a soup spoon, she drank in the taste of minestrone with relish, in her opinion her best yet. Hopefully the bitter salad leaves did not clash horribly with the oiled dressing, though the soup would help.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Moving through the terrain was both familiar and foreign, old bruises and scrapes remembered as he clambered to cover with Boreal. He settled in, peeking through his field glasses and listening in. What was heard crushed his heart. A mother and two brothers, one missing. Could it be that they were talking about Buster? A cold beyond the rain encompassed him.

“Your call Pincer. Remember what I said? Wanna be the hero?”

Pincer looked over in the direction of the others, uncertain. From the boots the others seemed to be veering off from where they and the sleeping Titan 5 were, though it was tough to say due to their verbal silence. He did not have reason to suspect they knew of Boreal's and Pincer's presence.

"Leave them be," he whispered back. "They do not know where we are and where . . . Buster, his name was, is. Unless they pose an immediate threat, their continued living will be our benefit."

His head tilted to listen further to the squelching of feet, hand retrieving his field glasses and placing it in a burlap bag. His hand was close to the handgun holstered under his arm, just in case he was incorrect.

Glacier took the cue of Origin eating for her to try the food presented.
She stabbed the leafy green leaves with her fork crunching upon it, her tastebuds lit up and her eyebrows raised.
”By the way, the food is great, way better than the barracks..But anyways, flying is..a pleasure. Feeling wind, seeing birds beside you and dragons below like tiny dots. Eh it’s hard to describe the feeling.”
She shrugged, stabbing another leaf of salad to crunch upon.
”However, with a rookie like yourself OceanSide isn’t the best place to start. The trade winds blowing from the water are strong. Dragon’s in the flying corp learned to use the wind to their advantage in combat.
But I don’t see you fighting any time soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Through brief flashes of light from the lanterns the figures splotched through the mud. The slaps fading away from their position and from their team.
”Hey, you can still be one. How about we follow them? They’ll lead us back to their outpost then relay it to Joey.”

Boreal slung his rifle onto his back then pulled himself over the rubble onto the muddy road, waving for Pincer to follow.
Pincer and Boreal trailed the lantern lights, careful not to be loud with the slapping mud under their feet. Boreal ducked into an apartment building slinking over to a shattered window to watch the patrol.
”Sir! We found him..”
”Is he alive?!”
The scout fell silent.
”Speak to me hammock, is Buster alive?”
The scout known as Hammock shook his head. The whole group fell quiet. The dragon who firstly asked the question stormed off swiping a brick from the ground and tossing it through a non broken window.
The window just so happened to be near Pincer and Boreal as they duck.
”How did he die..”
”E-executed. Sir..”
”Damn IT!!”

A second brick, this time slammed into the wall where Pincer and Boreal hid on the other side. Dust falling upon them.
”Listen, everyone, I suspect someone else is here. Buster saw something and didn’t live to tell us. Search the buildings, every last one.”
”And Buster’s mother, sir?”
”I’ll tell her myself. You you’re in charge of the scouting. I’m heading back, I dread to see her reaction…”

 

[Thanny]

Origin felt joyful about Glacier's comments on the food as she too dug in, listening with great yearning. Flight sounded like a wonderful release from the ground and life in general with nothing but air around her. Even if Glacier was blaisé in her actions, the words tasted as wonderfully as the meal. Just as quickly, however, the airy thoughts crashed and she was brought back to reality.

"So OceanSide is again not ideal for my situation except for dreams." She smiled ruefully before shaking herself free from thought. "I suppose I knew that already, but it still is disappointing. Thank you for your understanding, however. Even if flight is not in my future, I should practice my wing strokes regardless. An old friend would approve of that, I think."

She took another sip of soup and washed it over her tongue, savouring. She swirled the water in her cup, then toasted it halfway across the table.

"Well, we are where and what we are, but it doesn't define us. Here's to bettering ourselves to get what we want, whatever we decide it to be."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer breathed a sigh of relief upon Boreal's acceptance of his reply and shouldering his weapon. It was silly, really. He had been raised off of orders. Emulating authority should not come with too much difficulty, especially when it came to lives, but his tongue felt thick and gummy. How Joey, Captain Snapjaw, and other COs could take charge like this, he had no idea, but he had to learn fast.

With head cleared out, he moved with his fellow soldier, cautious of his footing. One puddle, one sopping-wet pile of earth, and the others could hear him. The wind and rain could only do so much to disguise their steps. Carefully but quickly, they fled to shadows of ruins and standing buildings. Pincer peeked out the window and ducked timely before the first brick flew with gusto.

He swallowed hard. They found the body and were splitting up. One was searching for them, and the other was heading to camp. This posed a significant risk to the entire operation. It might have to end with the searcher's death.

"This is my mess," he said through a grimace, turning to Boreal. His grip tightened on his pistol as he unzipped a mountable pistol silencer from his field bag. "Follow the other to find the outpost or return to the others. I'll deal with the one searching. Go."

With silencer attached, he readied himself, tail grazing against the wall and at the base of his legs. His sound suppressor would be less effective at close range, unwieldy in close quarters. If a clear shot was not available, he may have to rely on his hands and his magic.

 

[Dragonborn1]

Origin felt joyful about Glacier's comments on the food as she too dug in, listening with great yearning. Flight sounded like a wonderful release from the ground and life in general with nothing but air around her. Even if Glacier was blaisé in her actions, the words tasted as wonderfully as the meal. Just as quickly, however, the airy thoughts crashed and she was brought back to reality.

"So OceanSide is again not ideal for my situation except for dreams." She smiled ruefully before shaking herself free from thought. "I suppose I knew that already, but it still is disappointing. Thank you for your understanding, however. Even if flight is not in my future, I should practice my wing strokes regardless. An old friend would approve of that, I think."

She took another sip of soup and washed it over her tongue, savouring. She swirled the water in her cup, then toasted it halfway across the table.

"Well, we are where and what we are, but it doesn't define us. Here's to bettering ourselves to get what we want, whatever we decide it to be."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pincer breathed a sigh of relief upon Boreal's acceptance of his reply and shouldering his weapon. It was silly, really. He had been raised off of orders. Emulating authority should not come with too much difficulty, especially when it came to lives, but his tongue felt thick and gummy. How Joey, Captain Snapjaw, and other COs could take charge like this, he had no idea, but he had to learn fast.

With head cleared out, he moved with his fellow soldier, cautious of his footing. One puddle, one sopping-wet pile of earth, and the others could hear him. The wind and rain could only do so much to disguise their steps. Carefully but quickly, they fled to shadows of ruins and standing buildings. Pincer peeked out the window and ducked timely before the first brick flew with gusto.

He swallowed hard. They found the body and were splitting up. One was searching for them, and the other was heading to camp. This posed a significant risk to the entire operation. It might have to end with the searcher's death.

"This is my mess," he said through a grimace, turning to Boreal. His grip tightened on his pistol as he unzipped a mountable pistol silencer from his field bag. "Follow the other to find the outpost or return to the others. I'll deal with the one searching. Go."

With silencer attached, he readied himself, tail grazing against the wall and at the base of his legs. His sound suppressor would be less effective at close range, unwieldy in close quarters. If a clear shot was not available, he may have to rely on his hands and his magic.

“I’m not exactly saying you can’t.”
She say, mouth half full before swallowing. ”I could train you, learn from what I learn from Snapjaw.“
She stabbed the remaining salad leaves on her plate and ate them, then raised her glass to toast with Origin.
”here, here” She says in agreement.
True to Glacier’s words, after cleaning up from dinner, Glacier coaxed Origin outside. She lead the Nature dragon up a nearby incline where the winds blew strongly.
”So, you can’t fly, but what about gliding? Here.”
Glacier unfolded her own wings keeping them folded downward so they don’t catch the wind. “You want the wind to carry you. Don’t fight it, trust it. Don’t be afraid of giving your wings a few flaps aswell.”
She instructed. However, Glacier watched as Origin opened her wings to the wind which then caught them like sails, blowing her backwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hearing Pincer’s plan made him smile. He felt a sense of pride that Pincer’s coming out of his shell a bit more.
”Imma gonna follow the other group.”
Boreal snuck away leaving Pincer alone, turning around one more time. “I wish you luck, Pincer. Remember what captain Snapjaw taught you and you’ll be fine.” Boreal kept his smile until he finally disappeared into the darkness.
The one guards claws slopped onto the carpeted floor of the building. Stepping silently with their own weapon at low ready. They paused for a moment, glancing down at the disturbed mud staining the carpet before him. He glanced up, following the trail. Pincer could see his silhouette creeping closer, his figure just about to pass the doorway….

 

[Thanny]

Before the clinking of glasses, Origin was of course grateful for Glacier's offer, but was uncertain about it. A militant teaching a pacifist was a peculiarity, sure -- she was open to such potential -- but was it even possible that with enough training she could lift herself and her heavy burden of packed earth and plant life? She hoped it possible.

Now, when the time came and she was convinced to venture outside, she was more uncertain. An hour more of sun did not allow much time. The wind assailed her exposed limbs but did not have as much push to her earthly components. The thought came again: could she glide, let alone take flight? Maybe with her large wings, but it may take considerable effort to stay adrift in the air with all of the extra weight. Nevertheless, she did as Glacier instructed and unfurled her wings little by little.

The pressure was incredibly strong on the taut leathery skin of her wings, and when they were fully stretched she nearly teetered backward! Memories of a much younger self came back in a torrent, before she came from Pilgrimvale to OceanSide. A grin took over her face, youthful and bright, and she laughed a string of notes. She could not remember when she smiled this strongly.

She took some time to adjust, self-conscious and cautious. It felt odd to use her wings for anything more than balance, but she attempted a couple of flutters at a time, feeling a little braver with every repetition. Finally, she felt ready. With a gust renewed, she tried to run backwards, unfurl her wings, and leap.

Against all negative thoughts, she was elated that the action worked, at least for a moment. Peering beneath her she could witness the the tall heads of the grass kissing the soles of her feet before she struck the ground. She tumbled with far less grace, shaken but uninjured, and snickered to herself.

"Not my best, but certainly not my worst. Glacier, did you see that?!" she called out to her friend further up the hill, high on excitement and waving as she climbed toward her friend.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The area was quieter without Boreal. The rain was just the scantest drizzle, only enough to haze sight and not nearly enough to dampen noise if things went south. Pincer would have to be careful and silent so as not to draw attention.

The scarce lighting flickered, and he saw an approaching silhouette on the building floor, its silent owner not yet seen. Pincer swallowed hard as his grip on the pistol tightened. Seconds crept by, the seeker just barely visible under the threshold. Aim toward the entrance already, Pincer leveled his weapon to centre of mass and pulled the trigger.

Click. Nothing. Just the sound of mechanical sliding without a shot fired. Nothing. The safety was on -- a rookie mistake!

With no time to chastise himself for his failure, his fight-or-flight response kicked in and he lunged forward. The other dragon wheeled with his own weapon at the ready, but Pincer made a move to disarm by catching the wrist with his free hand, locking his elbow behind the other's to control the opponent's arm better, and bash at the opponents head with the butt of the pistol.

In this uncanny position, the motions were unlikely to do much else but stun and disarm. If weapons were out of the picture, he would have to take out the enemy with force alone. While he did not have much physique, he knew something of joint locks and had magic on his side. He can do this!

 

[Dragonborn1]

Before the clinking of glasses, Origin was of course grateful for Glacier's offer, but was uncertain about it. A militant teaching a pacifist was a peculiarity, sure -- she was open to such potential -- but was it even possible that with enough training she could lift herself and her heavy burden of packed earth and plant life? She hoped it possible.

Now, when the time came and she was convinced to venture outside, she was more uncertain. An hour more of sun did not allow much time. The wind assailed her exposed limbs but did not have as much push to her earthly components. The thought came again: could she glide, let alone take flight? Maybe with her large wings, but it may take considerable effort to stay adrift in the air with all of the extra weight. Nevertheless, she did as Glacier instructed and unfurled her wings little by little.

The pressure was incredibly strong on the taut leathery skin of her wings, and when they were fully stretched she nearly teetered backward! Memories of a much younger self came back in a torrent, before she came from Pilgrimvale to OceanSide. A grin took over her face, youthful and bright, and she laughed a string of notes. She could not remember when she smiled this strongly.

She took some time to adjust, self-conscious and cautious. It felt odd to use her wings for anything more than balance, but she attempted a couple of flutters at a time, feeling a little braver with every repetition. Finally, she felt ready. With a gust renewed, she tried to run backwards, unfurl her wings, and leap.

Against all negative thoughts, she was elated that the action worked, at least for a moment. Peering beneath her she could witness the the tall heads of the grass kissing the soles of her feet before she struck the ground. She tumbled with far less grace, shaken but uninjured, and snickered to herself.

"Not my best, but certainly not my worst. Glacier, did you see that?!" she called out to her friend further up the hill, high on excitement and waving as she climbed toward her friend.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The area was quieter without Boreal. The rain was just the scantest drizzle, only enough to haze sight and not nearly enough to dampen noise if things went south. Pincer would have to be careful and silent so as not to draw attention.

The scarce lighting flickered, and he saw an approaching silhouette on the building floor, its silent owner not yet seen. Pincer swallowed hard as his grip on the pistol tightened. Seconds crept by, the seeker just barely visible under the threshold. Aim toward the entrance already, Pincer leveled his weapon to centre of mass and pulled the trigger.

Click. Nothing. Just the sound of mechanical sliding without a shot fired. Nothing. The safety was on -- a rookie mistake!

With no time to chastise himself for his failure, his fight-or-flight response kicked in and he lunged forward. The other dragon wheeled with his own weapon at the ready, but Pincer made a move to disarm by catching the wrist with his free hand, locking his elbow behind the other's to control the opponent's arm better, and bash at the opponents head with the butt of the pistol.

In this uncanny position, the motions were unlikely to do much else but stun and disarm. If weapons were out of the picture, he would have to take out the enemy with force alone. While he did not have much physique, he knew something of joint locks and had magic on his side. He can do this!

Origin couldn’t find Glacier anywhere once she reached the top again.
all she felt was the strong wind and the sight of the slowly sinking sun.
“Hey! Good start.” Glacier suddenly appeared, walking towards the edge. “You forgot one thing. You need to let go.”
She faced her back to the tall drop below, spreading both her arms and wings.
”You need to. just. feel. free”
If Origin tried to stop Glacier from falling, she failed. Time past by slowly with no Glacier in sight until a purple blur blew by her at high speeds!
“Haha! See? It’s simple. You’re free as a…uh. Dragon!”
She continued to laugh, showing off by doing loops and flying backwards as if she’s swimming
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The opposing dragon sent a punch to Pincer’s snout and while distracted, he hit the magazine release on his pistol and kicked it away.
The two dragons were thrown against a nearby wall showering them in dust. Pincer’s opponent sent punch after punch into Pincer‘s face and chest, then a swift kick which sent him through a wooden pole. It snapped under their weight. With their own weapon dropped in the melee the dragon unsheathed a knife. He added pressure to Pincer’s hands as the tip of the blade descended. Pincer feels a sharp pain in his chest the metal dug into his breast, slowly sinking in, but not yet hitting anything vital.

 

[Thanny]

Surprised to not see her anywhere, Origin looked about for her new friend, but did not have to wait for too long. Glacier appeared to have come out of thin air.

"Let go?" Vitalia considered the drop below worriedly. That was a jutting cliffside facing the ocean, with gnawing, crashing waves that would gobble up anyone who would fall in! What if she died right there? "Wait, Glacier, don't step off--"

It was too late. With a fall almost tauntingly slowed by upsurging wind, Glacier stepped off the side. Origin's heart sank into a panic as she reached out her hand, thoughts cluttering her head. What if she didn't make it? The nature dragon would not be able to save her from the waves below -- she would sink like a rock! She had to see for herself. She had to be useful in the case of utter catastrophe!

All of her thoughts were, thankfully, for naught. Glacier flew up from the cliff's edge with a surge of speed and jubilation, her voice as merry as her actions. Origin captured all of this with wide eyes, the fear forgotten and replaced by rapture. Glacier seemed almost like a fairy, dancing on the wind with light step and lighter wings.

"Beautiful," she muttered to herself without intending to.

Looking to her wings, she wondered if she could ever do the same. Could those frail things be able to hold up the massive weight of earth and plant life other than glide, be able to touch the skies and dance so? She made up her mind: someday, sometime, she would. It was more than a goal. It was an aspiration.

"All right, enough showboating," Vitalia laughed. "Let me give it a go!"

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Far off in the distance, Sergeant Snapjaw peeped through the tall grass at a half crouch, expression serene. His hand, gripping a nearby boulder, slackened. It seemed as if Glacier was finally loosening her stiff composure and standards and becoming a better quality of soldier. His assignment appeared to be paying off, not that he had any doubt on the matter.

Even still, he sensed something. It was a fell gloom on the wind that pierced the last rays of the sun, the freeing of something that should not be.

The war must have shifted, and not in our favour, he thought to himself. Being a soldier did not free him from thoughts of superstition. He fretted that this strange sensation would be one that ended poorly for him and the good dragons of this empire. He hoped for the best. Rather, more precisely, he and others would make it the best.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Shine roamed through the familiar set of cells, illumination shifting around him as any stray light bounced off his scales. The plinking of guitar strings had been driving him insane the last few hours and he swapped with someone else, but the guard did not come back on time from his shift. The kid, Calling, was young like him and recently assigned. He knew Calling from the barracks as a young and eager cadet, always willing to try something new.

Come on, Calling. What is holding you up?

As he neared his station, something felt extremely off. The walls were silent, the music absent. There was no chatter between the cells and harrassing from neighbors. It was as if . . .

Then he saw it, a cell door ajar, a door to a dangerous criminal that should not have been open under any circumstance beyond an emergency. But there was no warning bell, no danger known of any kind. Could it be that the convict escaped?

His heart leapt, skipping a beat. Blood withdrew from his lips and his mouth dried. Jailbreak? Jailbreak!

Inspecting the cells, he realised that all of them had been emptied. There was no sign of forced entry, just opened doors. Calling did not even have a key. None of the wardens did.

In the cell where Sanctus was, he could see the boy's corpse, neck twisted. Calling was dead, and for the first time of his career and his life Shine screamed in dread.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

A great distance away from the whole of OceanSide, Pincer, like the other three, was scared in his own right. The dragon before him was skilled in close combat, putting him greatly to shame. His face and chest were bludgeoned and battered by the enemy's fists, and he sundered a wooden beam with his back. Pincer coughed out blood that came from his lungs. He was unsure if he could make it, no matter his abilities.

Own hands gripped with one of the enemy's, he felt the icy stab of a knife. Again, fight-or-flight kicked in and he ripped one of his wrists free to grab the dragon's face. Energy crackled from his palm and from the knife as his pain sizzled into the enemy and became his opponent's in two locations: the face and the enemy's hand.

Distraction set, he reached for his own knife trapped between his belt and the ground. After some efforts of freeing it, he held it in an ice-pick grip and tried to stab the enemy scout back, aiming as high as possible to the opponent's left, mid-chest or higher. He hoped this would be enough to end the fight.

 

[Dragonborn1]

Surprised to not see her anywhere, Origin looked about for her new friend, but did not have to wait for too long. Glacier appeared to have come out of thin air.

"Let go?" Vitalia considered the drop below worriedly. That was a jutting cliffside facing the ocean, with gnawing, crashing waves that would gobble up anyone who would fall in! What if she died right there? "Wait, Glacier, don't step off--"

It was too late. With a fall almost tauntingly slowed by upsurging wind, Glacier stepped off the side. Origin's heart sank into a panic as she reached out her hand, thoughts cluttering her head. What if she didn't make it? The nature dragon would not be able to save her from the waves below -- she would sink like a rock! She had to see for herself. She had to be useful in the case of utter catastrophe!

All of her thoughts were, thankfully, for naught. Glacier flew up from the cliff's edge with a surge of speed and jubilation, her voice as merry as her actions. Origin captured all of this with wide eyes, the fear forgotten and replaced by rapture. Glacier seemed almost like a fairy, dancing on the wind with light step and lighter wings.

"Beautiful," she muttered to herself without intending to.

Looking to her wings, she wondered if she could ever do the same. Could those frail things be able to hold up the massive weight of earth and plant life other than glide, be able to touch the skies and dance so? She made up her mind: someday, sometime, she would. It was more than a goal. It was an aspiration.

"All right, enough showboating," Vitalia laughed. "Let me give it a go!"

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Far off in the distance, Sergeant Snapjaw peeped through the tall grass at a half crouch, expression serene. His hand, gripping a nearby boulder, slackened. It seemed as if Glacier was finally loosening her stiff composure and standards and becoming a better quality of soldier. His assignment appeared to be paying off, not that he had any doubt on the matter.

Even still, he sensed something. It was a fell gloom on the wind that pierced the last rays of the sun, the freeing of something that should not be.

The war must have shifted, and not in our favour, he thought to himself. Being a soldier did not free him from thoughts of superstition. He fretted that this strange sensation would be one that ended poorly for him and the good dragons of this empire. He hoped for the best. Rather, more precisely, he and others would make it the best.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Shine roamed through the familiar set of cells, illumination shifting around him as any stray light bounced off his scales. The plinking of guitar strings had been driving him insane the last few hours and he swapped with someone else, but the guard did not come back on time from his shift. The kid, Calling, was young like him and recently assigned. He knew Calling from the barracks as a young and eager cadet, always willing to try something new.

Come on, Calling. What is holding you up?

As he neared his station, something felt extremely off. The walls were silent, the music absent. There was no chatter between the cells and harrassing from neighbors. It was as if . . .

Then he saw it, a cell door ajar, a door to a dangerous criminal that should not have been open under any circumstance beyond an emergency. But there was no warning bell, no danger known of any kind. Could it be that the convict escaped?

His heart leapt, skipping a beat. Blood withdrew from his lips and his mouth dried. Jailbreak? Jailbreak!

Inspecting the cells, he realised that all of them had been emptied. There was no sign of forced entry, just opened doors. Calling did not even have a key. None of the wardens did.

In the cell where Sanctus was, he could see the boy's corpse, neck twisted. Calling was dead, and for the first time of his career and his life Shine screamed in dread.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

A great distance away from the whole of OceanSide, Pincer, like the other three, was scared in his own right. The dragon before him was skilled in close combat, putting him greatly to shame. His face and chest were bludgeoned and battered by the enemy's fists, and he sundered a wooden beam with his back. Pincer coughed out blood that came from his lungs. He was unsure if he could make it, no matter his abilities.

Own hands gripped with one of the enemy's, he felt the icy stab of a knife. Again, fight-or-flight kicked in and he ripped one of his wrists free to grab the dragon's face. Energy crackled from his palm and from the knife as his pain sizzled into the enemy and became his opponent's in two locations: the face and the enemy's hand.

Distraction set, he reached for his own knife trapped between his belt and the ground. After some efforts of freeing it, he held it in an ice-pick grip and tried to stab the enemy scout back, aiming as high as possible to the opponent's left, mid-chest or higher. He hoped this would be enough to end the fight.

Glacier’s wings caught the wind to swoop low and glide her claw against the blades of grass. Twisting to come back around, she misjudged the speed the wind pushed her. She collided with the ground sliding and rolling onto her back, looking right up at Origin with a large smile.
It took a while after her stunt to convince Origin she’s truly alright.
“Origin, I’m fine, really. Barely felt it. I’m tougher than most.”

As the two dragons winded down, the suns beams gave way to darkness, but not all light was gone. Glacier sat up in the grass beside Origin her eyes glancing to the side where foliage swayed in the breeze. Glacier’s eyes were set on yellow lights blinking when one went out another one some where else lit up. The guard watched a blinking light float over, Glacier ready for it, raised her claws around it.
Once the light was inside, she slapped her hands together then wiped the remains off her palms.

————————————————————————————————

Pincer’s stinging shock forced the dragon away, clearly on their face a branded claw print. They held the print, stumbling out the doorway and collapsing on the wood floor. Pincer approached the downed scout as they crawled away in desperation.
”Really did a number on me, huh?“
The scout coughed, their breathing getting heavier. Their scales shifted like a light dragons, heat radiated off of them now. As Pincer approached a powerful WHOOSH! and he felt burning pain of his own.
Scalding steam ate Pincer’s scales! The side of Pincer’s face turned crispy from first contact, the whole left side left charred.
With them distracted the scout fled. Outside however, deep rumbling sounded in the distance like thunder. Bright flashes where the scout knew where their outpost was.
It was found, and now its under attack…

 

[Thanny]

Pestering about Glacier's potential injuries proved to be stonewalled at every turn, and Origin, feeling that she was mother-henning too much as well, stared into the growing gloom. The night sky along with the wind's whipping of the OceanSide grasslands inspired a beauty that day hours could not match, and she felt at ease, as if all was right with the world.

This was a sight she had seen before, but not from this angle. It was as if the world of dragonkind became tiny, like the small town that erupted from the faraway dale. She loved the sensation of feeling one with something bigger than civilization. Perhaps, she thought, this was the reason for her craving to be in the wind: to be one with it and see new miracles nature had to offer.

The dancing fireflies overhead caught her eyes, each a marvelous creature glowing if the failing light and fading wind in search of mates. She could not possibly fathom any issue to prevent that until the audible crunching of one between clapped hands sounded out. Origin was mortified.

"What did you do that for?" she voiced scoldingly as she turned to Glacier, her brows furrowed. "Lightning bugs are harmless. Or, rather, they are to us."

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Pincer swam with relief knowing that his attack worked, but he still had the knife embedding in him. Pulling it out with a grunt, he twirled it around to face his opponent and approached the fallen. A coup de grace was needed to finish the job. He had nothing to tie up and gag the soldier with, and he couldn't risk the rest of the Titan Five with his actions.

The glinting of light caught his eye. Eyelids dropped just in time to avoid his eyes from being scalded by steam directly, and his head was turned enough so that the damage was done only to one side. Agony steeped into Pincer as his scale, skin, and muscle, leaving a nasty steam burn on the left side of his face. A distasteful smell wafted through the air as he scented his own flash-cooked flesh.

Wounded as he was, he did not immediately give chase. The other was out the door, but the sounds of an explosion, or perhaps more, rippled through the air. He worried of its origins and put the unfamiliar gun in hand and holstered the other. He had to find out if the others were safe.

Wincing as the rain hit his face and leaving a trail of blood behind him from his stab wound, he set off into the weather.

 

[Dragonborn1]

Pestering about Glacier's potential injuries proved to be stonewalled at every turn, and Origin, feeling that she was mother-henning too much as well, stared into the growing gloom. The night sky along with the wind's whipping of the OceanSide grasslands inspired a beauty that day hours could not match, and she felt at ease, as if all was right with the world.

This was a sight she had seen before, but not from this angle. It was as if the world of dragonkind became tiny, like the small town that erupted from the faraway dale. She loved the sensation of feeling one with something bigger than civilization. Perhaps, she thought, this was the reason for her craving to be in the wind: to be one with it and see new miracles nature had to offer.

The dancing fireflies overhead caught her eyes, each a marvelous creature glowing if the failing light and fading wind in search of mates. She could not possibly fathom any issue to prevent that until the audible crunching of one between clapped hands sounded out. Origin was mortified.

"What did you do that for?" she voiced scoldingly as she turned to Glacier, her brows furrowed. "Lightning bugs are harmless. Or, rather, they are to us."

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Pincer swam with relief knowing that his attack worked, but he still had the knife embedding in him. Pulling it out with a grunt, he twirled it around to face his opponent and approached the fallen. A coup de grace was needed to finish the job. He had nothing to tie up and gag the soldier with, and he couldn't risk the rest of the Titan Five with his actions.

The glinting of light caught his eye. Eyelids dropped just in time to avoid his eyes from being scalded by steam directly, and his head was turned enough so that the damage was done only to one side. Agony steeped into Pincer as his scale, skin, and muscle, leaving a nasty steam burn on the left side of his face. A distasteful smell wafted through the air as he scented his own flash-cooked flesh.

Wounded as he was, he did not immediately give chase. The other was out the door, but the sounds of an explosion, or perhaps more, rippled through the air. He worried of its origins and put the unfamiliar gun in hand and holstered the other. He had to find out if the others were safe.

Wincing as the rain hit his face and leaving a trail of blood behind him from his stab wound, he set off into the weather.

“Oh, uh, force of habit?”
Glacier tried to sound convincing, only she wasn’t a great lier. She wiped what remained of the bug staring back up at Origin when she finished.
”What kind of threat would a bug that shines be? The best thing that I’ve seen them do is blink their light and get zapped by electricity from the electric fence.”
She says, raising up each finger for each thing she listed. Around the two dragons the lightning bugs have surrounded them in a swarm of blinking lights dancing in an organized pattern. Some buzzed by Glacier’s face like a taunt, which Glacier growled in annoyance.
Meanwhile, the lightning bugs seemed to like Origin. They swirled around her some even landing onto her grassy scales.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The emperor stood in advanced broadcasting room filled with the busiest dragons in the empire. His hands were folded behind his back in politeness, waiting. He did an about face walking down the hallway his hands still folded. His one real leg and his metal one clapped the marble floor. Behind them there‘s another set of footsteps but more urgent. A much shorter dragon ran up beside the Emperor nearly falling over to suddenly match their slow pace. Held inbetween their claws was a packet.
”My patience is waining. What’s the hold up?”

Whatever the little dragon says is interupted.
”The celebration of this great empire is about to begin. Millions of dragons are waiting, and we’re delayed because of some issues! I don’t want your excuses!“
They boom loudly in a godly voice. The yelling ceases and when looking at the Emperor, he’s holding his chest and let’s out a cough
”The world needs me and I need them…the war isn’t turning in our favor. The last thing we need is lower morale..”
The dragon sees the sprouting of sharp scales under regular non scaly skin. This is evidently painful to them as they grunt and swear.
”I’m fine! I’m fine. Get what’s needed done, and report to me when it is..”
The emperor walks off, decending a secret staircase revealed by a electronic device. His claws clap the stone steps, down, down, down. The bottom floor automatically activates it’s lights as a long hallway is traversed by the dragon. On cue to the dragons approach, a large door opens to a cell.
A indoor garden with lush plants and some trees. All were grown by the means of warm lighting and sprinklers acting like rain. The Emperor stopped walking on the cobblestone path, and there, in front of him, a Nature dragon. In contrast to the lush greenery, the dragon is wilted and gray with flowers drooping much like their posture.
The Emperor waited just staring at the prisoner..

 

[Thanny]

Origin giggled in answer, careful to not move as the fireflies performed their landing maneuvers. In a few seconds a fair number were on her. She raised a finger to draw up one walking on her arm and raised her hand, successful.

"They are very helpful creatures, a part of life's great dance of death and rebirth. Without these lovely creatures, our gardens wouldn't prosper, snails and slugs running rampant. Besides, these fireflies are beautiful, aren't they? Isn't beauty enough to enjoy?"

She held the one on her finger up in ceremony, the firefly darting about flashing on and off. Closing her hand into an open-barred cage, the light inside flared and flickered. She opened her hand up again and watched it fly off to join the waltz, then turned with a warm smile.

"You've taught me something, Glacier, so please allow me to teach something in return. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but it is all around and is worth protecting. If that's so, do you think all things are worth protecting, no matter how frail or meaningless they may seem?" She looked up, eyes darting between the fireflies with a contented smile. "I do. Such is one of my credos."

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Chains chinked as the grey-scaled prisoner lolled his head upright, eyes sunken into his skull. A rattling cough shook him as he tried to stand, and once again the chains sang.

The prisoner was an aged nature dragon, as could be observed from the carapace of stone and engraining roots. His prized flowers on his back drooped somberly, drained of life much like himself, but here, surrounded by the vitality of so many living things, there was something left to sustain him. Hope, perhaps, or maybe it was the sight of so many incredible things around him, beautiful and industrious. Here in this grotto of enrichment he can feed from the sight of their marvels. Here in this grotto it was necessary to feed the emperor of dragonkind.

"Ah, you're back," he mumbled, fumbling to keep his eyes open. How long has he been this way? Days? Weeks? By the Provider Divine, was it hours? He lost all sense of time in this claustrophobic Eden. He groped his hands forward to grasp and to heal. It was his last and greatest reason for existence, and he did not fight it. "Come closer so I might succor your suffering, young emperor."

 

[Dragonborn1]

Origin giggled in answer, careful to not move as the fireflies performed their landing maneuvers. In a few seconds a fair number were on her. She raised a finger to draw up one walking on her arm and raised her hand, successful.

"They are very helpful creatures, a part of life's great dance of death and rebirth. Without these lovely creatures, our gardens wouldn't prosper, snails and slugs running rampant. Besides, these fireflies are beautiful, aren't they? Isn't beauty enough to enjoy?"

She held the one on her finger up in ceremony, the firefly darting about flashing on and off. Closing her hand into an open-barred cage, the light inside flared and flickered. She opened her hand up again and watched it fly off to join the waltz, then turned with a warm smile.

"You've taught me something, Glacier, so please allow me to teach something in return. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but it is all around and is worth protecting. If that's so, do you think all things are worth protecting, no matter how frail or meaningless they may seem?" She looked up, eyes darting between the fireflies with a contented smile. "I do. Such is one of my credos."

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Chains chinked as the grey-scaled prisoner lolled his head upright, eyes sunken into his skull. A rattling cough shook him as he tried to stand, and once again the chains sang.

The prisoner was an aged nature dragon, as could be observed from the carapace of stone and engraining roots. His prized flowers on his back drooped somberly, drained of life much like himself, but here, surrounded by the vitality of so many living things, there was something left to sustain him. Hope, perhaps, or maybe it was the sight of so many incredible things around him, beautiful and industrious. Here in this grotto of enrichment he can feed from the sight of their marvels. Here in this grotto it was necessary to feed the emperor of dragonkind.

"Ah, you're back," he mumbled, fumbling to keep his eyes open. How long has he been this way? Days? Weeks? By the Provider Divine, was it hours? He lost all sense of time in this claustrophobic Eden. He groped his hands forward to grasp and to heal. It was his last and greatest reason for existence, and he did not fight it. "Come closer so I might succor your suffering, young emperor."

Glacier’s head follows the path the firefly takes.
“They are nice, don’t know how much protection I’d be able to provide. If I have a glowing bulb on my butt not only is it embarrassing, it’s full of disadvantages. Stealth would be impossible, a bulb that size would make movement slow, another thin-“
She glanced at Origin, realizing shes rambling. To end her rant short she shrugs and stares at the sky.
“They’re nice..” she repeated.
The sun has fully set the painting of oranges and pinks were further on the horizon and dwindling fast. Stars dotted the canvas above, adding soft twinkles to the painting.
”So, Origin, while I explored you home I found some pictures of some friends. What happened to them? I thought Nature Dragons only hung out with others of their kind. It was in one of your books, it was already on that page when it fell. I swear…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You‘re still loyal? Impressive. As I watched your kind evolve, the results were not stellar and I thought I’d have to eradicate that part of my experiment.”
He knelt down to the weak Nature Dragons height.
“I appreciate your loyalty you’re the only one keeping the last Nature Dragon village alive. Unless they cough up another one. Just remember that, if you die, there’s the chance the other Nature Dragons disobey. Their lives are in your hands.”
The emperor grunts, as the captive dragon watches sharp scales split through him. The plates grow like weeds and once they stop the pain recedes.
“Damn it..”
He mumbled. The emperor stands in touching distance to his captive.
Once the Nature Dragon places their hands on them, the plants on them continue to shrivel. Sharp pain cuts through both dragons.
The Nature Dragon can feel his life fading. The carapace spliting, and flowers fall from their body. The emperor can see tears welling in the captives eyes…

 

[Thanny]

Origin had to hand it to Glacier in that she knew the deficits of having a lightning bug butt. She could not withhold a laugh at the thought of her friend with one and lowered herself slowly. The fireflies left their perches as she slid down into the grass on her back, one arm behind her head.

The proffered question initially caught her off-guard but gave her a start. Vitalia's head inclined enough to look at Glacier's expression, and when she found no malice behind her words Origin leaned back.

"Yeah . . . they were good friends," she started, tracing constellations in the sky with a finger. It was an old habit, one she could not kick even as an adult. In this case, however, it was more out of want for distraction than mere fun. "They grew up and left me here. Merri was from one town over and Sanctus a local. Sanctus left soon after Merri did, but I don't know too much of them anymore, but wherever they are I hope they are happy."

She stopped tracing upon the fifth constellation of an archer, then rolled over with a frown, face suddenly flushed.

"What . . . was . . . the page?" she hissed slowly, unable to hide her embarrassment thinking about it further.

-- -- -- -- --

The nature dragon elder's shoulders slouched, eyelids closed to keep the emperor from noticing that the eyes they housed darted right. This was not the time to show weakness, not for the sake of the village. As long as he drew breath and kept himself and the emperor nourished enough, all will be right. Keeping the emperor of dragonkind healed meant saving someone else from doing the same miserable job.

The healing process began, and every old wound felt as if they were torn asunder anew. The plants screamed their agony in his mind, paired with his own. His breath grew ragged through cracked lips as more of his shell fell into disrepair and death. He was not too far from death himself, fresh blood dripping out from beneath his carapace.

The nature around him dimmed lightly in its splendour for a moment, but its opulence spread once again through him. Its nurture allowed this sisyphean torment to continue. He wept as his hands withdrew. His legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

"May the light follow you all of your days, Emperor," he spoke placatingly.