Blacknight

A genuine pot stirrer, Blacknight can drive almost anyone crazy. He enjoys his eccentric cousin Nightwolf's character (with her there is never a dull moment) and takes pleasure in watching others flounder. He calls it a healthy practice of keeping everyone on their toes. One of his goals in life is to get a rise out of Shadowman (no one can hold out forever, according to him). He carries himself with confidence and is almost always a very smooth and suave character. Others can't help being charmed by him, but in the end there is an overwhelming belief that his intentions are never more than superficial. He does nothing to dissuade them, for he has a reputation to keep. Even with his strong facade, though, there are still a few individuals who can, unbelievably enough, manage to get under his scales . . .


A deep chuckle rose from the ridgeback beside the fire. The sound filled the otherwise silent night as the flames danced across her dark iridescent hide. “Oh, now I see,” she snorted. As her laughter subsided, an infuriating Cheshire grin remained revealing her prominent pearly fangs.

Her companion stiffened. “What,” he barked out, though more hoarsely than he would have liked. He steeled himself and met her unwavering and mischievous violet gaze. Clearing his throat, he started again. “What is it you think you see?” Too late, he mentally kicked himself for taking her bait. The she-dragon stretched and lazily coiled her tail about her forelimbs. She was all relaxed confidence and apparently in no rush to respond. She is enjoying this. A low growl threatened to rise with his mounting frustration. He needed to get ahold of himself; she was getting under his scales, just like she did with about every other dragon that crossed her path. Picking fights was what she was known for, and he would not be her next victim. Reigning in his simmering wildclaw blood he waited, a minute tail twitch and resettling of his wings the only outward signs of his inner struggle.

Finally, she breeched the growing silence once more. “You, little one, are a lot like me.”

“How do you figure?” He ignored the ‘little one’ comment.

“You like to pick fights, albeit in a more subtle way, and thoroughly enjoy stirring up those around you. It is actually rather entertaining to watch.”

The wildclaw scoffed, “Is that so?” His voice dripped with derision.

“It is,” she replied with a gaping yawn, clearly unperturbed by his tone. “The question is why do you act this way? What are you trying so hard to cover up?” She paused and refocused her razor sharp gaze on him once more. He felt pinned to the ground, as though she had skewered him with one of her massive claws. “Whose attention are you actually seeking with these little outbursts?”

A chill ran down his spine. She couldn’t possibly know. He turned away from her probing scrutiny and forcefully shut down his train of thought. “You don’t know what you are talking about. You’re just fishing.” His voice was saturated with a conviction he didn’t really feel.

“Maybe,” she conceded but her infuriating grin was back. The flames crackled and flickered between them. They seemed to mock him with their carefree dance.

“This should be enough for now,” a casual voice broke through the tree line surrounding their clearing. Moments later the voice’s owner, an obsidian skydancer, emerged from the shadows carrying a pack full of firewood. Nimbly he placed his load off to the side and turned to survey his two companions. “Did I miss anything?”

The ridgeback immediately circled around to face the newcomer, completely ensnared by his presence. The loss of her attention was so abrupt it left the wildclaw reeling, as if the whole world had shifted out from under him, and he nearly stumbled forward. With a deep breath he righted himself and attempted to regain his composure. Looking up he bared witness to the unabashed tidal wave of emotion written all over her body, from the tilt of her head to every coil of her tail. It was potent, indecipherable, and obviously directed at the dancer. A sharp pang in his chest responded to his observations and he turned his attention elsewhere. “You missed nothing, nothing at all,” he briskly answered the lingering question.

Giving a little sigh the skydancer dipped his torso down in a low stretch and extended his wings, their feathers shimmering even in the dim light. “Well then, we should probably call it a night,” his words shattered the she-dragon’s rapture and she seemed to visibly shake off the remaining effects his sudden appearance had on her.

“I’ll take the first watch,” she volunteered in a tone that offered no refusal. The skydancer dipped his head in acknowledgement and settled in near the fire. She then turned to the wildclaw, and he felt the weight of her gaze settle on his back. “Do not worry, little one, I shall keep you safe and guard your young dreams,” she cajoled with only a hint of sarcasm. He didn’t bother to turn around; he could picture the smirk on her face perfectly without looking. Curling in on himself, he tucked his nose under the tuft of his tail. The lingering thoughts, questions, and emotional whiplash from earlier started to seep out from the walls he had tried to box them in. This is going to be a long night. He let his drowning mind wander as it would. Slowly exhaustion pulled him into a fitful sleep.