Fandom The Ties That Bind Us || Private

[Drekasal]

"Well, I suppose there's only one way to find out," Kevin said, standing up from his seat as well. "On another note, hopefully us being up there'll keep Teighenth from getting too agitated. Assuming he hasn't flown out to the storm already—I don't want to think about that possibility."

"You all are a bunch of killjoys, I swear," Sigrid huffed, but otherwise followed suite. "Alright, then. Let's go meet Cat's mother, shall we?"

—ᛏ—​

Contrary to Kevin's fear, Teighenth was still on the roof by the time they'd made it topside, much to the boy's relief. Unfortunately, the reprieve was only temporary—the storm was nearly above them now, the wind beginning to lash against their faces and howl around their ears. The sharp smell of rain sliced into Kevin's nostrils, causing him to flinch, but he quickly recovered and soldiered forward. "Teighenth!" he called, having to shout to make himself heard above the noise.

The dragon turned upon hearing his name, acknowledging the group trudging toward him with a jerk of his head, before turning his attention back up to the sky. His gaze was cold and teeth half-bared, his tail lashing angrily behind him. The boy's relief turned to dismay when he noticed that he had his wings mantled slightly above him—we must have caught him just in time—and he quickly reached a hand to stay the dragon once he was by his side. "It's alright, Teighenth," he cried desperately. "It's just Cat's mother! She finally came!"

"She's being rather dramatic about it, don't you think?" Sigrid asked, looking up at the clouds with a frown. "Are all her entrances usually like this?"

 

[Cyanide Latte]

Cat frowned as she watched the storm raging overhead. She wasn't entirely sure what to tell Sigrid, but before she could open her mouth to speak, a great, winged shape dropped through the boiling clouds as if answering the question.

The storm dragon veered into a turn almost immediately, flying around the tower instead of to it. She completed a fast rotation, body angled in flight almost perpendicular to the ground and the water below, and started on a second one, moving somehow even faster, pulling tearing currents of wind in her wake. Second rotation finished, she moved into a third one and finally it clicked for Cat exactly what was going on.

"She's creating an eye," she shouted above the gale, hoping it would make a modicum of sense. "Probably so she can land and talk!"

The third rotation brought a lessening of the sound, despite the continuing rolls of thunder in the distance. On the fourth rotation, the silvery-gray dragon began to slow down, and her features became easier to discern.

She was smaller than average, but perhaps in spite of this her appearance was all the more stunning. A great many horns lined her head, and several more protrusions of bone jutted along her spines and joints, a steady current of blue-gold lightning dancing between them, reflected in the thin canvas of wing membrane. Her muzzle was slender however, giving her head and face an appearance closer to a doe than something saurian in nature, and a rippling mane of fur crested the center of her forehead before running down the length of her spine to plume off the end of her tail. Her eyes were perhaps the most startling, however. Her gaze shifted dead-center on the lot of them as her flight slowed, bright blue eyes the color of the spring sky, slanted in a discerning look as she flew. It wasn't until she finished her fifth rotation that Cat sensed something was amiss, confirmed only when the dragon suddenly broke from the circuit she created and flew up, climbing high, high, higher still above the tower.

"Something's wrong," Cat said, no longer needing to shout to be heard, thanks to the sudden calm in the storm's eye. "She should be landing."

The form disappeared into the clouds overhead, and a net of lightning sparked in ghostly flashes above, until suddenly there was a great, roaring cry, a brass sound that petered off, turning into a distant, shrill scream that was undeniably female, and frighteningly human. It cut short quickly, and a much, much smaller form began to plummet from the clouds.

Cat couldn't help herself, and grabbed at the nearest two arms she could find as she sucked in a terrified breath.

But several yards before the shape could land fatally on the rooftop, a current of air swept it up, buoying the slight form up once, twice on a bounce, before it finally seemed to settle and land a short distance from where they waited. The woman who fell in place of the dragon landed lightly on her feet, almost fairy-like, but the semblance of grace was shattered when, a few shaky steps forward on the rooftop, her legs appeared to crumple and fold under her, and she collapsed to her knees, barely catching herself with one hand to the ground and the other to her temple, as if to ease a sense of disorientation.

She had the appearance of someone out of time. Long tresses of gray hair waterfalled behind her in waves, with her forelocks braided back in a circlet around her head. Her dress wouldn't have looked out of place in a local Renaissance festival, save that it was pure white with silver trim and sash, and seemed more naturally part of her than a dress ought to. The differences between her and Catriona were blatant, that much couldn't be denied. And yet there was something in her face untouched by age, something in the shape of her eyes, the slope of her nose, and the grimace of her mouth that looked like echoes of Catriona's expressions all the same

 

[Drekasal]

The quartet had watched the entirety of the spectacle with wide eyes; they shuddered as the eye of the storm enclosed around them, flinched as the lightning sparked in the sky above, and Kevin was certain that all of them—even Teighenth, however stoic he appeared—felt a surge of terror the moment that cry—that shrill, haunting, human cry—pierced their ears.

But the sight of the woman plummeting from the sky was what caused him to wrest himself out of Catriona’s grasp—it was he who the dragonborn had grabbed—rushing past Teighenth before the dragon could stop him. He did it without thinking, without any idea how he would possibly be able to catch her...he just ran. He halted in his tracks, however, when he saw her get caught by the currents of air, staring in awe mixed with fear as she was slowly brought down to the roof just a couple paces away. For a moment when she landed, she struck a figure of regality, but when she crumpled down to her knees shortly after, he immediately started forward again, dropping to the ground in front of her when he came close.

The boy paused again, taking in the woman’s appearance—so different from Cat, yet so alike—and without a second thought, he extended a hand out to her. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, noting her disorientation with a worried frown.

 

[Cyanide Latte]

She gave a slight groan and opened her eyes completely to regard him, still the same eyes she'd had before, and still with the same assessing gaze. After a moment, she grasped his offered hand in a strong grip—not crushing or indicative of emotion, but strong and steady all the same—and a hint of recognition flared in her eyes.

"Forgive me for my rudeness," she finally said, her voice projecting enough to be heard by her entire audience. "I did not wish to alarm any of you. I'll be alright after a moment. Making the Change is never easy, much less when rushed, but I believe it necessary."

Cat, fully pulled from her shock, took that moment to trot over and skid to a halt next to Kevin, bracing a tentative hand on her mother's shoulder and earning a smile in return. It wasn't however, a thing of warmth or delight, but something etched in deep sorrow.

"Mum, ya coulda just landed as was," she said, voice low and quick as she gave her friend an appreciative nod. It was more of a relief than she wanted to admit, seeing Kevin rush in to help. "Ya didna have—"

"Again, it is necessary," her mother interrupted, not unkindly, before seizing Cat's forearm in her free hand and tightening her grip on Kevin at the same time. "Please, if you'll help me up? I've had to Change several times in the past half-week, but it's always been rushed, and never long enough for me to fully readjust to walking as a human. I forgot how disorienting it was in those first months, years ago."

 

[Drekasal]

Kevin’s brow furrowed as his frown deepened, a multitude of questions running through his mind, but ultimately he refrained from voicing them—they could wait. “Let’s get you on your feet,” he murmured, catching and returning Catriona’s nod of appreciation as he did so. He began to move in order to help lift her mother up, but froze when he heard a rumble behind him, low and menacing.

Slowly, the boy turned his head, and sure enough, Teighenth was there, looming over the three with his massive frame. His expression, Kevin noticed, was no longer marred by a snarl, but that unsettled the wizard more than relieved him, as he now couldn’t tell what the dragon was thinking. Another rumble rose from the back of his throat as he craned his head down, until he was inches away from the trio. His nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed upon the dragon-woman. Kevin felt his heart jump into his throat—What is he going to do?

The standoff continued for what seemed like an eternity as Teighenth continued his inspection, Kevin holding his breath all the while. Eventually, the dragon huffed—the blast of air nearly knocked the present company back off their feet—but otherwise he appeared satisfied, for he withdrew soon after, allowing Haru and Sigrid to come forward, while he sat back and simply watched from afar.

Kevin felt himself begin to relax once it was clear nothing was going to happen, though he was still keenly aware of a tension coming from the dragon. “We may want to get introductions done as soon as possible,” he advised to Cat, jerking his head toward Teighenth for emphasis; clearly, there were some suppressed feelings the dragon had that sparked this behavior, and for the sake of everyone needed to be resolved.

 

[Cyanide Latte]

"Thinking y' may be right 'bout that," she replied, but before she could say further, the dragon-woman let out a low chuckle and the corners of her mouth turned up, creasing her eyes in a genuine smile.

"Please, allow me," she said as they approached Sigrid and Haru, her eyes flicking briefly to Teighenth still some distance behind them. "Perhaps it might put to rest a few concerns. My name is Taranau, and as I'm sure you've been told by now, Catriona is my daughter." The name rolled off her tongue as 'Katrina', as if the gentle lift of the 'o' in the name wasn't ever there, and before it could be remarked upon, she offered a warm smile to the boy at her side first. "If I don't miss my guess, you would be Kevin—" her eyes flicked then to the shield maiden, "—you are Sigrid, and—" she glanced to the reborn Leviathan, paused to tilt her head for a long moment, and finally declared, "—I believe the name you carry now is Haru."

Cat stared in surprise at her mother, clearly not expecting this level of preparedness. She opened and shut her mouth several times, floundering to find a response.

But Taranau wasn't quite finished, and leveled her gaze at Teighenth. "As for you..." she began levelly, and it was at that moment Cat simply reacted, pulling away from her mother to step forward and place herself squarely between the two dragons.

"Mum, look, I remember all the stories you told me, alright?" she spoke, tension in her frame even as she held her head high. "But I can promise you whoever y'thought he was, that's no' him any more." She drew in a deep breath and exhaled, heat rippling through the air. "T.'s my friend, mine and everyone else here's. I trust him, whatever you used to tell me. If you can't deal with that, then—then..." Again, there was that damn floundering and a total loss for words. What was she supposed to say? She trusted the dragon completely, as much as she did Kevin, as much as she did Haru and Sigrid. True, it'd been difficult to unravel her mother's moral tales from Teighenth's actual presence, but his actions spoke a hell of a lot louder than words. The problem was how to go about dealing with her mother's opinion of him. It was one thing to say she'd give her own family the boot, but it was proving quite difficult in practice.

"As it happens," Taranau replied, blinking long white lashes slowly as she spoke, "one of your gifts is your excellent judge of character, my smallest. And if you trust him, then perhaps it is just a name I know and not the same dragon any more. I will accept that." She tilted her head then and her smile turned just a shade mischievous. "Do you think I would have chosen to land in this form if I felt otherwise?"

Cat's shoulders fell, the fight going right out of her as she struggled to process her mother's remark, and Taranau glanced at Teighenth again. "It is a strange company you've come to keep, smallest, but I have a feeling it's the right one," she added, before remarking to the other dragon, "Perhaps we could speak privately later. I believe I owe you an apology."

 

[Drekasal]

Teighenth said nothing in reply, but Kevin could see with relief that his wings had settled behind him, and his expression no longer frigid. He studied her for a moment longer, then simply inclined his head toward her, indicating acceptance of her offer. The gesture warmed the boy greatly, and he finally let out the breath he'd been holding with a heavy sigh. He'd still remain cautious, just in case things potentially soured, but for now it seemed everything would be alright between the two dragons. In any case, one crisis averted.

Now Kevin was left to deal with a new one entirely: the flood of questions he had kept dammed for the sake of propriety, and now that the uncertainty had passed rushed to the tip of his tongue. Honestly, he wasn't even sure where to begin—there were so many!—and he found himself floundering as well, until he latched onto the one that seemed most relevant to the situation. "So—" He halted, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say before continuing. "—you already know who we are? By name and everything?" Glancing briefly at his friends, he could tell from their shocked expressions that the same question was on their minds, and given Sigrid's concern earlier, she would probably require an explanation.

 

[Cyanide Latte]

"Indeed," she answered, and something in her expression became unreadable. "Truthfully, I had had my doubts, but I am relieved. It appears in this matter, my son was being honest."

Immediately Cat stiffened. "Jesse?" she blurted out, somewhat baffled. "Jesse talked about my friends?" A second later, the rest of the statement registered, and she demanded, "What do you mean, he was being honest about this?"

Taranau heaved a sigh and held up a hand to forestall her, looking far more haggard than she had seconds ago. "Please, let me clarify, your brother has spoken at varying lengths on more than one occasion about your friends because I did ask him how you were faring. Trying to get anything out of him tends to be a task at best." She paused a moment, pursing her lips, and then, a frown building on her face, she looked to Haru in particular. "You I had the most reason to doubt the validity of," she said quietly. "A handful of days ago was the first time you were mentioned to me, and please understand, I found the claims regarding your nature difficult to accept." Almost at once her face darkened, her expression going grim as she swept her stare about to the lot of them. "And it pains me to say that Jesse's visit to me happens to be the reason I felt compelled to seek you all out."

 

[Drekasal]

The boy felt his heart sink in his chest—of course, he knew they'd all come to the agreement that it was unlikely Taranau was here just to simply visit, but to have her confirm that suspicion only seemed to make it worse. He glanced to his friends, and saw Sigrid giving him a plain, narrowed look that clearly said "I told you so"; Haru, on the other hand, simply looked uncomfortable, a feeling Kevin did not blame him for at all—the subject of his Leviathan nature was still a sensitive one, even if he had finally begun to come to terms with it.

"We'd all suspected you were not here simply for a visit," Teighenth said solemnly, breaking the silence that had fallen while surprising Kevin. "Your daughter here—" the dragon indicated Catriona with an extended wing "—caught of glimpse of your dreams when you were en route to us, though she could only discern fragments of their nature. My charge suggested there was a chance you might even be fleeing from something—from what you have stated so far, it would seem that is the case." The dragon paused in his speech, and he frowned, assessing the dragon-woman. "Yet the question remains: why come to us?"

 

[Cyanide Latte]

Taranau threw Teighenth a quick, wan smile that seemed to say "quite astute", before her face fell.

"Because Catriona is the only living person who will immediately understand the significance of what I've brought you," she answered heavily, rolling back one shimmering sleeve of her dress to reveal a small pouch on her arm, not unlike a sheath of some variety. She spoke as she went about unclasping the pouch, more to herself than them, it seemed. "I should have been suspicious the moment he sought me out to talk; I've always had to call upon him. When he volunteered information I'd normally have to pry out of him, I knew something was amiss. Other things, little things in the way he spoke seemed off, and it put me ill at ease. But..."

She held the pouch in her hands now, wrists trembling slightly. It was evident even from a quick glance the thing was made by faerie hands, a pretty piece that did its best to marry ornamental beauty to sensible function. Taranau's fingers hesitated above the final clasp as she added, "The moment he started asking about these, I knew I had to keep them away. From my son and whoever might be whispering the same poison in his ears that he spoke in mine."

Cat frowned at that remark—what the hell had her brother been on about, that he'd say something to cause their mother such concern, to give her such anxious dreams—but her attention was caught the second the last clasp was undone and whatever Fey magic used to conceal the contents was temporarily awash with an oily maleficence that felt all too familiar. Her mother reached into the sheath and Cat found herself retreating in primal terror, a hand flying up unconsciously to touch her short hair as Taranau withdrew a too-sharp pair of black scissors.

The dragon-woman glanced at her daughter, her expression one of regret. "Yes," she murmured, "I thought you'd remember their bite."

 

[Drekasal]

Kevin was first to react to Catriona’s distress, rushing to her side and catching her free hand in an attempt to soothe her. Sigrid, meanwhile, eyed the black tools with a frown. “They’re...scissors?” she asked, perplexed, leaning in so she could better examine them; her gaze traced the rim of the blades, and for a moment, a flicker of recognition lit in her eyes, causing her frown to deepen. “The craftsmanship seems...familiar...”

“As does its magic,” Teighenth said, his voice low and suspicious; he gestured for Sigrid to move aside as he walked forward, lowering his head down to Taranau’s level, towards the scissors. His jaws parted slightly as he inhaled, taking in their scent, until suddenly, he recoiled. His eyes snapped open, and a bugling roar escaped his maw as he reared back on his hind legs. Kevin’s face paled—he knew all too well what that meant. Making a rushed apology to Cat, he raced forward, watching as the dragon’s wings flared wide and high above him—an instinctual threat display—and a distinct reddish glow rose from his spines and the back of his throat. The latter sight made the boy’s panic skyrocket—he is pissed!—and he skidded to a stop in front of the dragon. “Whoa, hey, Teighenth! Look at me, I’m right here! HERE!!!” He spread his arms out, to get his friend’s attention on him so that he could calm down. “What is it?! What’s wrong?!”

The dragon did not seem to acknowledge him at first—his eyes and mouth still burned with red fire—and for a moment, Kevin feared he would have to call upon a shield spell. Thankfully, however, he began to focus on the boy in front of him, and slowly but sure, he dropped back down on all fours. Yet the flame in his eyes still glowed. “Goblin magic,” he hissed, teeth baring as the words rolled off his tongue. “They are made from goblin magic.”

His gaze then flickered toward Catriona, as if something had just occurred to him. “And the cold irons...I thought I recognized the stench from them when we first met...” He turned toward Taranau with a dark scowl. “They are of the same craft, aren’t they?”

 

[Cyanide Latte]

Taranau meet his gaze levelly, her own expression a mirror scowl to match. "They are," he confirmed, her voice tight. "You see now the other reason I had to land in this form. At least this way their presence is more of a tolerable discomfort than a steady ache. Even sheathed in Fey magic, flying with them the past handful of days has been..." she winced, and briefly bared too-white teeth, "a trial."

At this, Cat seemed to find her voice, shaky as it was, and angled her head towards Sigrid, though her eyes never left the black blades. "They're the Shears of the White Bear King, Valemon."

At the mention of their name, the blades quaked and opened with an audible -snap-, hovering above Taranau's outstretched hand like a dog hearing its name, forcing Cat to take another step back.

"Careful," Taranau said, a low rumble in her voice now. "Names have power, my smallest. And they are a tool, but one to be wary of." Her eyes flicked to Teighenth. "You are correct in your assessment. The shears are what I used to sever Catriona's mane...and her longevity. They've absorbed much in the way of dark magic over the course of many lifetimes, but the shears were once created with a dual purpose: to either create wondrous things...or to sever most magic and leave dead threads in their wake. The blessing they were given took great skill between goblin craft and human magic to make it take to the cold iron; the metal prefers the tastes of curses. But the dark magic that went into their making, that the iron absorbed easily. The shears have killed and devoured before, and you must heed their nature. Be wise before you name them so brashly."

 

[Drekasal]

The White Bear King... Sigrid’s brow furrowed—she’d heard that name before, but from where?—and then remembrance flashed through her. “I...I know that story,” she said, her voice a soft whisper. “My mother told it to me when I was young and could barely hold a sword in my hands. It was the tale of the witch queen, the fair princess, and the cursed king, wasn’t it? And—” She glanced to the shears again, shock warring with disbelief in her eyes. “—she told us of those, and how they were one of many treasures given to the princess to help find her lost husband. Their blades could cut the finest things: silken cloths, velvet ribbons... My mother often sighed of her desire for them. My father and sisters laughed, thinking it a pretty story, but no more than that...and admittedly, so did I.”

“But...you said that you recognized them,” Kevin pointed out, giving her a confused look when the former slayer shook her head. “Only in the way of their craft,” she explained. “You remember I told you of Hildr—“ She paused, remembering the present company might not know who she was referring to. “My eldest sister. She carries Valr, our father’s sword, which belonged to his father, and his father before him. An heirloom over many generations, said to have been given first to my great grandfather by the dwarves, who forged and drenched its blade in magicks powerful enough to kill even the mightiest of dragons.” A shadow fell across her features as she remembered. “I’ve seen what it can do, what it has done...and in the shears...” She turned toward Taranau, her expression serious. “If that is indeed what they are...I see in them the very same work of Valr’s creators.”

 

[Cyanide Latte]

Catriona watched her friend with widening eyes as she spoke, occasionally glancing back and forth between Sigrid and the shears. "Don't think you've ever mentioned the history of the sword before..." she murmured. "But aye, I can believe they're of the same make, especially if the age on the shears and on Valr is as close as we might guess it to be."

Taranau gave a bob of her head. "I agree," she remarked. "The number of master smiths among the goblinkin was far greater back then, but those who would willingly forge and shape cold iron for malevolent purposes were very few. Relations between dragonkind and goblinkin weren't quite as strained in times past, and few knew the secret to laying spells upon things such as this. It is entirely possible even, that the same smith might have had a hand in the shaping of both your family's sword and these shears."

The blades then seemed to tire of waiting and, lacking a wielding hand, shut without a sound and fell lifeless atop the sheath in Taranau's hand, looking deceptively innocent for all the world. Cat finally relaxed just a fraction, and took a step forward again, frowning at the shears before her gaze shifted around to everyone and fell on her mother again.

"I still don't understand something, though," she said. "You told both of us the shears were cold iron and badly cursed when I was little, and you told us for years how dangerous cold iron can be, to faeries and to dragons. So what the hell does Jesse—" she waved to indicate the blades, "—even want with the damn things?"

At this her mother's countenance darkened again, and something in her eyes went distant, as though lost in memories.

"When your brother was born," she said slowly, "I was very proud, perhaps foolishly so. Your two eldest sisters were gray-scaled, like me, but your brother had cobalt scales from the first. For years your uncle Awen and I were ostracized even among other storm dragons, due to the mixed blood we carry. I was so giddy when your brother was born; was it not proof that I had more than enough worth as a dragon that I could give the world a child as rare as him? Was it not proof that every voice seeking to silence the idea of mixing blood was wrong? I was so proud, and that is why I gave him a human name meaning 'a blessing bestowed.' I felt certain that he would go on to do great things and be a bridge—" her eyes slipped between all four of the teenagers and Teighenth, "—or, one of many bridges, between our peoples."

She let out a ragged, wretched sigh. "But I think it was a mistake to foist your brother off onto others to teach him how to harness his gift. In doing so, I neglected to give him proper guidance." She paused, and glanced down at the shears, her face thoughtful. "The trouble is, while these are dangerous to dragonkind, the fact still remains Jesse is half-human...and that means that he has just as much human capability for learning paths of magic that would otherwise be barred to dragons. When he asked me about the shears, many of his questions were technical, suppositions, theoreticals that he seemed to want confirmation for, more than anything. And that is what worries me. He's always been preternaturally gifted with magic, even for a cobalt dragonborn, but if he could even intuit the nature and function of the shears when I strove to keep them as secret from both of you as I could, then that means there's a use already planned for them."

She looked up and her blue eyes darkened, loud claps of thunder and tongues of lightning drawing closer to the calm of the eye about the tower.

"I have both suspicions and doubts regarding many things surrounding this, but I can say this much with conviction: whatever he has planned—or whatever someone he's working for has planned—he must not be allowed to lay hands upon these." As if to accentuate the point, she swiftly returned the shears to their sheath, clasping it shut and cutting off the majority of the flow of dark magic. "I don't trust that..." she paused, looking pained, and something of her true nature flashed in her face as her lips drew back from her teeth and her eyes narrowed sharply. "I don't trust that my own son wouldn't seek to unravel the secrets of the enchantments, or that he isn't selling himself as a mercenary to someone who might have worse plans in store."

Cat swallowed at this, ducking her head and clenching her fists. It hurt her mother to admit to not trusting her brother, that much was clear, just as much as it hurt her to hear it. Still, it was hard to deny the truth of the words, no matter how overwhelming the enormity of it all was.

Taranau went on, "I don't wish to burden children with a task that should be on the backs of their elders. If I had my way I wouldn't. But I fear you might stand the best chance of deciding what should be done with these. And if you are willing to take on the responsibility, then I will return the way I came, to see if I cannot buy you all a little more time."

Cat gave another hard swallow as her head snapped up to regard her mother. Her thoughts were all clamoring in her head in a whirlwind, nothing able to stick for long, but it hardly mattered. As if of its own accord, her mouth opened and she murmured, "I'll do it." Risking a hasty glance around to her friends and hoping they would object, she added, "Nonna ya have to come along if y'don't want. I understand if you don't."

 

[Drekasal]

“Like Hel you are going alone,” Sigrid said firmly, fixing Catriona with a fierce look. “And if you try, you won’t get far without us chasing after you, so don’t even bother giving us the choice to stay behind. Besides,” and her expression softened into a troubled frown. “If Valr’s smiths were involved with making these things, then I need to know for sure; if it’s true, then it isn’t just Jesse we need to worry about...”

Haru had largely been silent throughout much of this time, listening and observing as was customary of him, but the look he gave Catriona now was the most serious and alert he had been today. “You all have become a part of my clan, and I stand by my oath, both as Haru and as Seiryuu, to defend it. Wherever your path leads, I will follow. Whatever foe there is to be fought, my blade...” He stared down at his hands briefly, before clenching then tightly. “...and my claws will be there to meet it. By this oath I forever stand, or else I bring dishonor upon myself, lest tragedy befall you.”

Kevin was the last to speak, but his word was no less important. “‘Come hell or high water’,” he said, repeating what the dragonborn had told him last night. “Because that’s what friends are for. The Shears affected you once, and it is clear they still do. The only difference now is that they affect all of us.” He swept his hand around, indicating every one of them present. “Which means we’re all in this together, and to be quite honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if there will certainly be trials ahead, you won’t have to face them alone.” He then smiled, eyes shining with rare determination. “Not that any of us is going to let you.”

The boy turned then toward Taranau, and his face fell into a worried frown. “But what of you? What’ll happen if Jesse or whoever wants the Shears finds out you don’t have them?”

 

[Cyanide Latte]

The dragonborn sniffled a little, secretly relieved and overjoyed that her suggestion to go it alone was unanimously vetoed, and reached up to brush her eyes dry before the tears threatening made their escape. For a brief moment, she glanced up and caught her mother's eye. The look she saw there only said 'you see? I told you it was the right company you've chosen,' before Kevin's question punctured the sense of joy with an uneasy thread of fear. It wasn't that the same unspoken, unnamed worry hadn't occurred to her, but hearing it voiced drove home the cold reality of uncertainty.

Taranau's face darkened again, and she squared her jaw under their collective gaze. "Whatever happens," she replied, "it won't be without a fight."

A lance of cold speared through Cat's heart, and she whispered "Mum, are you expecting to die?"

The words were answered with a thin, grim smile. "I do not plan to, but neither do I fear the chance that could also happen." She advanced slowly, extending the shears to her audience in offering. "If I must be killed, then I fully intend to make it a heavy victory for such enemies as may be seeking these and hunting you." After a moment, her smile softened into a look of heartbreak and old wounds never fully healed. "And if it comes to that, then all I pray is for you to still have a fighting chance...and that I get to see my husband and daughters again." She threw a quick glance then to Teighenth and asked, "It is a mighty request to make of you, all things considered, but can I trust that you'll look after them?"

 

[Drekasal]

Teighenth met Taranau’s glance with a steady look of his own, yet Kevin thought for a moment that he saw the dragon’s gaze flicker toward him briefly. His talons flexed and gouged themselves into the roof, and his expression turned solemn. “With my life,” he answered finally, bowing his head toward the storm dragoness with a guttural hum. His promise was firm and genuine, and despite the tension in the air, a touched smile wound itself on Kevin’s lips...yet a part of him hoped dearly that it would not have to come to that.

Taking a breath, the boy now faced Taranau, and he likewise inclined his head in acceptance. His gaze fell down to the shears gleaming upon her hands, and without a word slowly reached out to take them from her. A chill ran through him when he touched the black metal, and he faltered—he could feel the dark magic that oozed from them, cold and unwelcome. Steeling himself, he pressed on, finally wrapping his palms firmly around the blades and pulling them close to his person. The chill grew into a sickly feeling—they felt so wrong in his hands—and behind him he could hear Teighenth shift uneasily, causing a pang of guilt to slice through his soul; if Taranau has struggled with just bringing the shears here, then the boy could only imagine the trial Teighenth, and quite possibly Haru as well, would have to go through just being around them. I can only hope it won’t have to be for long, he thought miserably, his hands tightening around the blades a fraction as he caught the dragoness’ eye again. “We’ll keep them guarded, until we know what will be done with them,” he said gravely. “That is our promise.”

 

[Cyanide Latte]

The strength and validity behind the boy's vow brought a broad, brilliant smile to the dragon-woman's face, a genuine expression that must have once rested there often in times past.

"As I said, you form a strange company of children, but I am certain it is the right one," she remarked with a nod of approval, before rolling back her opposite sleeve to reveal an interior pocket. "I had hoped you would rise to the occasion, and as such, I do have two more things I must give you, but these I promise, will be gifts."

Despite how impossibly small and flat to the material it appeared, she dipped her hand into the pocket, and began to pull forth a length of rough fabric, something that looked well-worn and lived-in. It appeared made of faded doeskin leather, and as it unfurled once fully retrieved, it had the shape of something like an overtunic or a mantle. There was nothing remarkable to its appearance; if anything it was the sort of thing that one would almost pass over...save for the soft curls of magic rolling off of it, unseen but felt from a distance.

"The temptation to use the shears may very well be something you face," she explained, "but if you must resort to them, remember that intention is vital, and they can be used to create as well as sever."

Cat's eyes flicked to the shears Kevin now held, squinting, before looking back to the doeskin mantle. After a few seconds of scrutiny, she asked "What is that, Mum? Did you make it?"

At once Taranau let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "No, not I. This is the same garment the princess fashioned with the shears, the one she used to disguise her appearance within the sorceress's castle. Its effect can be felt when not worn, because it is designed to wrap its magic around a wearer. Without one, you'll notice it looks unremarkable, something easy to pass over and disregard. That's its purpose; to protect and disguise."

Draping it over one arm, she retrieved one more item from the interior pocket before shaking the sleeve back out, something much smaller. It looked, for all the world, like nothing more than a small square of fabric folded over a few times, like a handkerchief.

"I am unsure if you'll have use of this one," she remarked. "I trust you are all resourceful as it stands, but it never hurts to have something as a secondary option. Should you need it, it is called the place setting. Unfold it and clap once, and it should arrange itself as on a table of air. Clap twice, and it will provide sustenance as required. Thank it once you finish, clap twice again, and the place setting will vanish and the cloth will refold itself." Bundling the mantle in her arm and setting the cloth atop it, these she extended as well. "Violence and treachery is in the nature of the shears, but its blessing can be brought forth to create tools such as these, provided you have the will to resist their treachery. " As she said this, her face fell a little. "I regret that I do not have the boots the shears made to offer as well; they can cross most any terrain and walk up the sides of mountains. Perhaps if you have need of them, the shears can be used to recreate them."

Cat stepped forward hesitantly but stopped several paces short, eyeing the gifts warily. "But how did you get these?" she asked. "You never told us when I was little how you got the shears in the first place, you just said they'd been lost a long time."

Taranau lifted a silvery brow then. "They had been. It was your father's aunt who found them some time before your sister Siobhan was born. When she died and her body became the wight of the mausoleums in the town's outskirts, Valemon's treasures were sealed in with her." Her face suddenly darkened again and she added, "There is...one more thing I should share before I speak with Teighenth." But instead of elaborating, she extended the gifts again insistently.

 

[Drekasal]

Seeing as Kevin had his hands occupied, Haru stepped forward in his place to receive the gifts from Taranau. “We will make certain that they are put to their proper use,” he promised, bowing respectfully toward the dragon-woman and stepping back once her offerings were placed in his hands. He then turned toward Sigrid, who after a moments deliberation took the mantle from the Leviathan, while he pocketed away the cloth so as not to lose it on accident.

The shield maiden took great interest in the mantle once it was in hand, her fingers tracing along the edge of the leather as she examined it. “Magic or no, this looks like something I would wear,” she admitted. “But then, I always did like the simple things.” Carefully, she bundled it up neatly in her hands, before turning toward the dragoness with a questioning look. “So what is the last thing that we should know?”

 

[Cyanide Latte]

Taranau heaved a deep sigh, as though bracing for something, and murmured, "If the worst should happen to me, you'll need to go back to Scotland, to the graves, and find the tomb where the Macallister line rests. The current wight..." she paused, slowly wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself from some unknown element, and drew in a shaky breath. "The current wight guarding the graves will have more information that I cannot yet divulge. About other matters primarily, but there should be more on Valemon's treasures in the sarcophagus of Firtha Macallister, Catriona's great-aunt. Perhaps not the way to unmake the shears, but there may be something yet of use." After a moment her expression hardened into resolve and her voice took on more of a commanding tone. "My advice is first to try finding a faerie ring. I don't know of many places still wild enough that I saw in this city where one may have sprung up, but mine was only a cursory look from overhead. There is only one among the fae I've ever trusted, and perhaps you won't find any among them who know anything of use, but faerie magic can unravel goblin curses." She glanced at the shears in Kevin's hand, her eyes flashing a brighter blue for a moment, and huffed, "I wouldn't be sorry to see them unmade. And if you choose that as your course of action, it may be necessary to seek out a faerie kind enough to help."

She seemed done at this, as if that was all, but then her expression grew dark once more, and the rolls of thunder in the distance grew louder. "I would also caution you, daughter, to recall that whatever else happens, Jesse is your brother, and you've spent the last several years together. Heed any weakness of your own...and remember that perhaps he has more than a few he may not have advertised."

"Right," Cat said, blowing out a breath of warm, warm air as she nodded. She still hated the implications, but she stayed silent. "Right."

With a huff of satisfaction, Taranau turned ever so slightly and glanced up at the dragon watching. With a calm blink, she glanced back to the teenagers and merely offered, "please, excuse me for just a short time," and stepped away, thin, small clouds unraveling from her with each step. Cat watched her draw closer to Teighenth—still a good several paces away as her transformation began reversing itself, but closer nonetheless—and then turned to her friends.

The reality of the situation weighed heavy on her, but glancing over each of them holding one of the treasures her mother had brought, questionable though the shears were as such a thing, and another thought occurred. Something that ignited a small kernel of excitement.

"Maybe I'm losin' it, but," she looked mostly at Sigrid as she asked, "is this a quest? Like no joke, an actual quest? It feels like it is."

 

[Drekasal]

“That’s what it sounded like to me,” Sigrid answered, meeting Catriona’s gaze coolly, though she couldn’t hold it for long; she too bore a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, and a daring grin soon broke out upon her lips. “It’s about time that we got one! I mean, not that Titan missions aren’t fun and all, but this—“ She raised the mantle for emphasis. “Enchanted gifts, ancient curses, a race against time? By Odin, it’s like the old tales come to life!”

“My sister Aki would love a tale such as this,” Haru murmured, his expression wistful as he sighed. “When I return home one day, perhaps I will tell it to her and Isamu, though I suppose Isamu will like it more for the danger than for the magic. I just hope there will not be too much of it.” He glanced to Kevin, noting the boy’s silence. “What do you think, Kevin?”

The mage was only half-listening to the conversation; his attention was upon the dragons, specifically his guardian who was waiting patiently for the storm dragon to approach. Taranau said that she wanted to speak to Teighenth...but what about? Did she want to apologize? Make up for the stories she had told Cat years ago? Or was it about something else? The questions burned in his mind...

“Kev?” Sigrid’s voice broke abruptly through his thoughts, and he turned toward her with a start. “You ok?” she asked, concerned. “You kind of blanked out on us. Shears aren’t doing anything to you, are they?”

“N-No, no, it’s not the Shears,” the boy stammered quickly. “Not them at all. It’s just...” He paused, unsure how to proceed. Casting one last look at the dragons, his features creased in a soft frown, and then, wearily, he sighed. “It’s nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine. I promise.” Glancing down at the shears in his hand, he returned to the matter at hand. “We shouldn’t go without leaving a word first; I don’t want anyone else putting themselves into danger because of us. Maybe we ought to talk to Starfire?”

 

[Cyanide Latte]

Cat nodded, unable to fully hide a grin. "Aye, seems like it'd be the responsible thing t'do. Maybe a few more, make sure as many of the others know we'll be away and can't be called for a mission? Not to mention, we oughta pack a few things," she added. After a second, something occurred to her, a worry rising before it could be stifled. She turned back towards the dragons just as her mother finished resuming her true form, and called out "Mum! Promise y'won't leave without saying goodbye?"

The storm dragoness swung her head back, blinked slowly and inclined her head in a nod of assent, leaving Cat to let out a breath of relief.

"Good, dunno what I'd do if she didn't," she murmured. She looked to Kevin, defacto leader of their little squad as per usual, and gave a short nod. "Want me to run down ahead and tell Star? Or should we all go together?" She fidgeted with the gloves on her hands in anticipation, fighting with her natural excitement. "Heck, I'll pack if we need to. We bringin' Poe along?"

As the four conferred, Taranau briefly flicked large ears back to catch snatches of the conversation—another marker of her mixed heritage and a typical indicator of her mood—before she turned her attention to the much larger dragon she'd come to speak with.

For quite some time, she'd lived in wary intimidation of the stories of Teighenth the Destroyer—to say nothing of the few times her clan had glimpsed him—but it now felt like several lifetimes ago. If nothing else, between that distant, detached past and seeing the vulnerable looks he'd cast at the children, and at Kevin in particular, said plenty.

"As I said," she spoke, her voice the low rumble of distant thunder and soft rainfall, but somehow the same voice as the woman-shape she had shed, "I believe I've long owed you an apology."

 

[Drekasal]

The dragon gave her a long searching look, the fire in his eyes now a dim ember glow. Ever since Taranau had arrived, he’d anticipated this talk—it was a large part of the reason why he had remained quiet up to this point—yet he never thought at the heart of it, an apology to him would be made. But it changed nothing on how he felt about the matter. “I am afraid that it would be wasted upon me,” he muttered, “for I am undeserving of it.” A hidden weight seemed to fall upon him as he spoke, his wings sagging to his sides as if they were made of stone. The mask of strength he wore faded, and he turned his head away in shame, heaving a sigh of resignation. “All the tales are true, no matter if the deeds that sparked them were lifetimes ago; they still remain my sins to bear, until the end of my days.”

His gaze flickered then to the four, specifically Kevin and Catriona who were still deep in discussion. Out of them all, they had gone the most out of their way to defend him, worried for him, cared about him. He would be dishonest if he said they were not appreciated, but the fact remained that they changed nothing—he was beyond redemption, no matter what they felt otherwise. It was why he was so fiercely protective of them—their lives are worth far more than my own—until the day came when he would be certain they no longer had any need of him...that they would be *better* than him. And then...then he would be at peace.

Shaking his head, he met Taranau’s gaze again, his expression solemn. “It is I who should apologize, for everything that I have done, both to humankind and ours. I can not undo the suffering that I myself am responsible for...but I speak the truth when I say I guard the children with my life, until I am dead, or when they no longer have need of me. That is my oath, sworn upon the earth that gave us life...” A shadow then passed through his eyes, and with an undertone of grief, “...and in honor of the promise I made to the boy’s mother.”

 

[Cyanide Latte]

The dragoness had settled next to him as he spoke, folding her legs beneath herself not unlike a much smaller and more feline creature might, and tracked Teighenth's body language with a critical eye. At the mention of a promise made to Kevin's mother, she didn't turn back to regard the children, but flicked her ears briefly in their direction regardless, catching a snatch of conversation she couldn't follow. And then she flicked her ears towards him again as she scrutinized him for a long moment. That his regret was genuine was unquestionable, and clearly he carried a good deal of it, enough so that evidence of some emotional self-punishment made its way into how he approached the conversation. It was peculiar, being unable to line up two images in her mind, but perhaps that only cemented the need behind what she had to say.

"A noble sentiment," she remarked, inclining her head briefly in respect before her next words, "but I don't believe it is solely up to you to decide such things, even for yourself. Of course you're able to settle with the finality of self-sacrifice in hopes of atonement, especially for the sake of children, and that dedication should be your own. But whether or not you are deserving of forgiveness, that is not your providence alone to make judgment upon. And whether or not it is wasted upon you, I believe that is also quite outside of anyone's control, no matter what you might have heard to the contrary." She tilted her head, a thoughtful expression rather than an inquisitive one. "Who you were, who you are and who you will eventually be are never completely the same, and to disregard that would be to stagnate. The dragon you were? Perhaps any apologies or forgiveness would have been wasted on him."

Not waiting for a potential protest, she swung her head back towards the children, keeping one ear trained on Teighenth the entire time. "But he was also not carrying the responsibilities or ties to humans that you do now. Like it or not, accept it or not, but the boy..." she paused and nodded towards Kevin, before glancing back to the dragon, "and his mother helped bring about some key change to you. Perhaps the regret was already there, perhaps it wasn't. I cannot speak to that, nor do I think it's my place. But people change people, forever. Regardless of what they are." She turned her head back to him completely now, flexing her wings slightly at her sides before relaxing again. "The dragon I see in my memories and the one I see now aren't the same. Oh, perhaps the shape is the same, but I imagine even physically you've changed as well, in small ways. You'll hear either—the apology or the forgiveness, or both—and clearly the concept already has some impact. The words and the actions would deflect off of you completely if they didn't. Certainly I can't speak to the impact they have either. But the fact remains, your own decision to forgive yourself and the choice others have to forgive you are separate, and you do not decide whether someone else thinks you deserve such a thing." After a second, a half-smile—a wicked, mischievous thing that on a human face, would look too much like her son's—cracks across her face. "In any case, humans are just as stubborn as we are, and twice as chaotic, children moreso. You'll get no luck in trying to convince them you don't deserve forgiveness."

 

[Drekasal]

At this, the dragon could not help but to chuckle. “I will not argue with you on that,” he said, smiling despite himself. Glancing toward Kevin again, his expression thawed, a rare look of true warmth few had ever glimpsed from him. “Especially when it comes to him,” he continued, indicating the boy in question with a slight raise of his wing. “He has the purest heart of them all, a bright and noble soul. It did not surprise me when he accepted your request to guard the Shears—he would bear the world’s weight upon his shoulders, if he believed he had the strength. And he is certainly not lacking in that, either, no matter what anyone says.”

His voice briefly took on an edge as he said this, almost as if daring the dragoness to contradict him. He quickly caught himself, however, and taking a breath forced himself to relax, his expression softening into a gentle frown. “But not a day goes by when I do not worry for him,” he murmured quietly, his wings falling once again. “So much of what he’s been through has been because of my own faults. He lost everything once, and it nearly shattered him. Had we not met the Titans...I dread what would have become of his soul. And even now, with a new family all around him, he fears that one day, he will lose them as well, and he will be alone again. As such,” and he drew himself up, the fire in his eyes igniting with determination, “they have become my responsibility as well. Sigrid, Haru, and your daughter most of all—he feels a kinship with them, and they have become as close as siblings. A bond such as that is nigh unbreakable, and it is something I have not seen or felt in almost a thousand years, which makes it all the more sacred.”