It's not often he is permitted to fly freely, and he does so with abandon, taking in the sights and smells of the dense forest, it's beasts, it's dragons. There's little of either, and Smokey takes a moment to let the wind through what little fur remains calm him.
Lowering his path, he hears raucous energy - music. Banking hard, he feels a thrill of pleasure run from snout to tail. Maybe the distance has done him good; maybe this was an oversight of his master's.
Like the crack of a whip, the serenity is gone. There's hate, thrumming along his scales and through his head. His horns vibrate with it, and his skin roils in a futile attempt to cope. Smokey's flight wavers, and his wings fall out of the streamline and clip a tree. Within seconds he's down, tumbling through the treeline and landing hard in the soft dirt.
He lays there for a moment, dazed and hurting, before the insistence thrums through him like a hot knife. Roaring, he shakes his head, but his senses return and he lowers it in a customary bow.
He always knows.
In his mind's eye, the projection hits like a freight train: new gems. Colors pale and red, glistening and clean.
Retrieve them for me.
Smokey remains where he is, and wonders if he's just cursed the dragons celebrating life a few miles away.
---
Varr likes it here. It's a quaint settlement, with the dragons living off the land, content with their humble home. She doesn't like to settle, but it's a community like this that she could see herself building a life within.
Not that she's close to committing.
There's an Imperial decorated with lovely silks and a sweet disposition, and Varr enjoys her company. Sociability is not her strongest suit, though. Claws ticking away at the floor, she approaches Orchid's tent, bags rustling against her haunches as she moves.
"Are you joining the festivities today?" Realizing only her muzzle is poking through the tent, She sneaks the rest of her neck through, craning to look at the Imperial.
It's not often he is permitted to fly freely, and he does so with abandon, taking in the sights and smells of the dense forest, it's beasts, it's dragons. There's little of either, and Smokey takes a moment to let the wind through what little fur remains calm him.
Lowering his path, he hears raucous energy - music. Banking hard, he feels a thrill of pleasure run from snout to tail. Maybe the distance has done him good; maybe this was an oversight of his master's.
Like the crack of a whip, the serenity is gone. There's hate, thrumming along his scales and through his head. His horns vibrate with it, and his skin roils in a futile attempt to cope. Smokey's flight wavers, and his wings fall out of the streamline and clip a tree. Within seconds he's down, tumbling through the treeline and landing hard in the soft dirt.
He lays there for a moment, dazed and hurting, before the insistence thrums through him like a hot knife. Roaring, he shakes his head, but his senses return and he lowers it in a customary bow.
He always knows.
In his mind's eye, the projection hits like a freight train: new gems. Colors pale and red, glistening and clean.
Retrieve them for me.
Smokey remains where he is, and wonders if he's just cursed the dragons celebrating life a few miles away.
---
Varr likes it here. It's a quaint settlement, with the dragons living off the land, content with their humble home. She doesn't like to settle, but it's a community like this that she could see herself building a life within.
Not that she's close to committing.
There's an Imperial decorated with lovely silks and a sweet disposition, and Varr enjoys her company. Sociability is not her strongest suit, though. Claws ticking away at the floor, she approaches Orchid's tent, bags rustling against her haunches as she moves.
"Are you joining the festivities today?" Realizing only her muzzle is poking through the tent, She sneaks the rest of her neck through, craning to look at the Imperial.
"Oh! Hello Varr!" Orchid said with a bright smile. "Yes I very much would like to! I'm just finishing up some preparations for tonight. I'm hoping to find some supplies I'm running low on in the bazaar."
A large box sat before her with many drawers. The top portion opened like a chest and contained several glass bottles of varying sizes and shapes, each with some shade of colored liquid inside. She picked one out and smoothed the tag, reading its contents before holding it up to the light. "Hmm, not much left of this one...Dragons certainly do like their love philters." She dropped it back into its slot. Closing the lid, she turned to her newfound companion.
"By the way, have you seen Ghost or Merit?"
She checked her pouches for her gold and her tarot deck. Both securely in place, she nosed her way out of the tent and into the sunlight, surveying the fairgrounds.
Dragons were already flying in to partake in everything from games of chance to sampling various dragonbrews and finding lovely trinkets to take home to their lairs. There was a comedy act, plays of historic events, familiars for sale, and, when the sun began to set, as was tradition, magic and skydancing. Maybe Ghost and Merit were practicing for later? Or, as was more likely the case, still sleeping. Honestly, they'd sleep the whole day if Orchid didn't bring them a warm cup of something to keep them awake, the divas. Though admittedly she'd woken up a bit late herself and didn't have time to brew anything. She wanted to reach the food vendors before they got too crowded, otherwise she'd never get the pair up in time.
"Sometimes I wonder if Ghost was a Nocturne like Merit in a past life with the way he needs his 'beauty sleep'. At least Merit has an excuse!"
---
Ghost lazily raised a leg to scratch an itch on his side before realizing he was getting pricked by Merit's horns. He groaned and pushed the smaller dragon away.
"Why must you bother a dragon when he's trying to rest." The Imperial complained, stretching his wings and resettling himself.
"I swear to the Icewarden, of all the dragons she could have picked, and it was you." He settled his head down away from the Noc and snorted.
"Oh! Hello Varr!" Orchid said with a bright smile. "Yes I very much would like to! I'm just finishing up some preparations for tonight. I'm hoping to find some supplies I'm running low on in the bazaar."
A large box sat before her with many drawers. The top portion opened like a chest and contained several glass bottles of varying sizes and shapes, each with some shade of colored liquid inside. She picked one out and smoothed the tag, reading its contents before holding it up to the light. "Hmm, not much left of this one...Dragons certainly do like their love philters." She dropped it back into its slot. Closing the lid, she turned to her newfound companion.
"By the way, have you seen Ghost or Merit?"
She checked her pouches for her gold and her tarot deck. Both securely in place, she nosed her way out of the tent and into the sunlight, surveying the fairgrounds.
Dragons were already flying in to partake in everything from games of chance to sampling various dragonbrews and finding lovely trinkets to take home to their lairs. There was a comedy act, plays of historic events, familiars for sale, and, when the sun began to set, as was tradition, magic and skydancing. Maybe Ghost and Merit were practicing for later? Or, as was more likely the case, still sleeping. Honestly, they'd sleep the whole day if Orchid didn't bring them a warm cup of something to keep them awake, the divas. Though admittedly she'd woken up a bit late herself and didn't have time to brew anything. She wanted to reach the food vendors before they got too crowded, otherwise she'd never get the pair up in time.
"Sometimes I wonder if Ghost was a Nocturne like Merit in a past life with the way he needs his 'beauty sleep'. At least Merit has an excuse!"
---
Ghost lazily raised a leg to scratch an itch on his side before realizing he was getting pricked by Merit's horns. He groaned and pushed the smaller dragon away.
"Why must you bother a dragon when he's trying to rest." The Imperial complained, stretching his wings and resettling himself.
"I swear to the Icewarden, of all the dragons she could have picked, and it was you." He settled his head down away from the Noc and snorted.
Not much of a dragon for possessions, Varr always is fascinated by Orchid's tent, filled to the brim with intriguing and useful things. From her cards to her philters, her cloaks and her herbs, the Imperial was always prepared. She herself had few belongings, confined to the packs she wore on her person, and lately the lute she's grown fairly attached to.
Wings shifting, Varr turns to Orchid, realizing she'd asked her a question. Crest feathers raising in a sort of response, visible display that she's heard, she cants her head. "Still asleep, I think," she says after a beat.
What she says is true, and Varr huffs a laugh; Nocs tend to sleep the day away, the already rowdy youngling even more alert by the moon's light, but Ghost sleeps uncommonly often. Age is related, she suspects. Varr herself couldn't imagine sleeping that much - by the time the sun is up, so is she.
"Do you need me to fetch them?" The lute sits light at her side, but she's itching to practice. There's not much that she finds therapeutic, but playing the odd instrument is one of them.
---
His dreams were roiling, inconsistent things, and he huffed a hot breath as he dreamt of freezing water, of purple blossoms turning black by a dark wind, of green eyes in the dark. Blinking blearily, he heard Ghost grumble and move away from him, and Merit's half asleep mind missed the comforting contact. At full awareness, he would have insisted he had shown no signs of clinginess; he'd rolled over, is all, complete accident.
But he wasn't at full awareness, and his dreams were ominous and cold, and so Merit curled tighter, pressing his back into the warmth of Ghost's furred side, testing his luck.
Not much of a dragon for possessions, Varr always is fascinated by Orchid's tent, filled to the brim with intriguing and useful things. From her cards to her philters, her cloaks and her herbs, the Imperial was always prepared. She herself had few belongings, confined to the packs she wore on her person, and lately the lute she's grown fairly attached to.
Wings shifting, Varr turns to Orchid, realizing she'd asked her a question. Crest feathers raising in a sort of response, visible display that she's heard, she cants her head. "Still asleep, I think," she says after a beat.
What she says is true, and Varr huffs a laugh; Nocs tend to sleep the day away, the already rowdy youngling even more alert by the moon's light, but Ghost sleeps uncommonly often. Age is related, she suspects. Varr herself couldn't imagine sleeping that much - by the time the sun is up, so is she.
"Do you need me to fetch them?" The lute sits light at her side, but she's itching to practice. There's not much that she finds therapeutic, but playing the odd instrument is one of them.
---
His dreams were roiling, inconsistent things, and he huffed a hot breath as he dreamt of freezing water, of purple blossoms turning black by a dark wind, of green eyes in the dark. Blinking blearily, he heard Ghost grumble and move away from him, and Merit's half asleep mind missed the comforting contact. At full awareness, he would have insisted he had shown no signs of clinginess; he'd rolled over, is all, complete accident.
But he wasn't at full awareness, and his dreams were ominous and cold, and so Merit curled tighter, pressing his back into the warmth of Ghost's furred side, testing his luck.
"Please! Unless you're hungry? I was going to try and buy breakfast before everyone rushed from the camp to the food stalls. I know for a fact they'll both complain if I don't bring them breakfast." She said, gesturing in the direction of her companions' tent. "I'm a bit hungry myself."
The thought of the sweet rolls and breakfast meat pies was enough to make her mouth water. "Fair food is definitely the best! Though...truth be told, I woke up a bit later than expected to make my own breakfast. You're more than welcome to come along!"
---
"I am not your personal pillow you tiny nuisance!" Ghost rumbled, moving again though still loathe to get up. He wondered what time it was. It still felt much too early for him to be waking. The tent was heavy and dark, but the small crack in the front flap seemed to be letting in a dribble of light, so it probably was morning. Regardless of the time, because of the Nocturne's irritation, he felt very much awake, even if he wanted to continue sleeping. The Imperial tried one more time, closing his eyes, grumpy yet hoping Orchid would bring them breakfast soon. He was feeling a bit peckish; a fish roll sounded nice as a morning meal, and a hot drink would do good to warm his old bones. No doubt as soon as both of them were roused to any sort of wakefulness Orchid would demand they practice to the tunes of the vagabond she had befriended, bless her.
"Please! Unless you're hungry? I was going to try and buy breakfast before everyone rushed from the camp to the food stalls. I know for a fact they'll both complain if I don't bring them breakfast." She said, gesturing in the direction of her companions' tent. "I'm a bit hungry myself."
The thought of the sweet rolls and breakfast meat pies was enough to make her mouth water. "Fair food is definitely the best! Though...truth be told, I woke up a bit later than expected to make my own breakfast. You're more than welcome to come along!"
---
"I am not your personal pillow you tiny nuisance!" Ghost rumbled, moving again though still loathe to get up. He wondered what time it was. It still felt much too early for him to be waking. The tent was heavy and dark, but the small crack in the front flap seemed to be letting in a dribble of light, so it probably was morning. Regardless of the time, because of the Nocturne's irritation, he felt very much awake, even if he wanted to continue sleeping. The Imperial tried one more time, closing his eyes, grumpy yet hoping Orchid would bring them breakfast soon. He was feeling a bit peckish; a fish roll sounded nice as a morning meal, and a hot drink would do good to warm his old bones. No doubt as soon as both of them were roused to any sort of wakefulness Orchid would demand they practice to the tunes of the vagabond she had befriended, bless her.
