Bittersweet

"You can leave, you know." The voice isn't just quiet, it's tired. At a glance, Rian smiles, but it doesn't seem very genuine. He sits heavily, and his shoulders slump with the weight of the day. "I'm surprised you stayed, after..."

After? After what?

After weeks of being accepted into the clan, she had told them of orders to kill them and an attack on the horizon. Rian had asked why, soft and hurt; Aine had looked three inches from gutting McGee right then. Death or death: McGee threw herself at their mercy and gave them everything.

Rian's face had gone dark with rage, and he, not Aine, had ordered the clan to fight. Gentle and soft Rian had held a dragon down with enough force to crack ribs, calling her with a voice that carried across the battlefield. He'd offered them as a toy, knowing full well what a toy McGee had been. There was a hard glitter to his eyes, something that made even his longstanding friends flinch and shy away. She'd made a decision: made it fast though she wanted otherwise, because then it would be over.

Or maybe it was after all that, when the coldness had left Rian and McGee had been talking to him, hearing of his sadness but not regret. Aine had come up behind McGee, and when she'd turned, the leader's claws had claimed her eye. For your lies, the leader had said after stunned silence and hot blood. Then Aine gave her a new name and left her to bandage a new wound: For telling the truth.

"I owe her," Bittersweet says. There's no malice in her tone.

"She doesn't think that. You are your own dragon; she would never keep you like they kept you." A bare smile. Rian isn't going to joke of treason, though it certainly must cross his mind.

"I choose to be hers."

Rian smiles, and bows, and says nothing more on the topic.

It's very kind, considering.

"I don't trust you," Nika says after Aine assigns them to each other. "I don't like you. I don't want you here."

Like her or not, trust her or not, their leader wants them to work together. That's enough for Bittersweet.

"Really? Nothing to say?"

"No."

"What if I threatened to run you off?"

B grins, then, teeth sharp against her lips. Flames blaze on the edges of her teeth, a reminder of her elemental advantage over him. It's not an ace in the hole, but certainly something to be considered.

Nika grins in response, eyes narrowing with delight. His teeth are very sharp, for a Tundra: his memory is much the same.

When she thinks of Nika's fighting, she supposes they'll make a good pair.

They'll make an even better team.

It throws B for a loop.

She knows what it means to be prisoner. It's how she joined the clan, after all: blackmailed and threatened until she felt trapped. She knows what Aine thinks of stealing: it's for weak dragons, it's taking what doesn't belong to her, it's profiting in the most shamelessly lazy way possible.

N wants to stay despite being a hostage until mere days ago. Sure, he was well cared for: his cage had water, a proper washroom, and his guards were downright friendly. But being held for ransom leaves a bad taste in B's mouth that has nothing to do with how she dragged him in by the neck. Not having the freedom to leave- she knows it. Hated it.

Nokken wants to stay despite knowing Aine has little respect for her lifestyle, despite her brother being used as a bargaining chip, despite the way B would have slaughtered them both on Aine's command. Nokken likes it, apparently, likes the knowledge that Aine's endorsement depends on if they can keep themselves from getting caught (again), and if they can hold their own in a fight. She says she likes the ambiance, the way the clan is less than formal.

B can tell she's lying.

There's something to the two of them, and she isn't sure what. They must want something: revenge comes to mind, or power. But Nokken could have her revenge without making herself a target, and N is plenty powerful in his own right. Aine's clan has no treasury; there are no riches to be won. Life can be vicious. Strong dragons can die, be buried, be forgotten. There's no guarantee they'll last a week.

So when Nokken sidles over, B says, "What do you want?" and expects a lie. She knows she's blunt, that others would beat around the bush or try to tease information out of others; she's been scolded for getting to the point, short and sweet.

"A bit of fun," Nokken says with an easy smile. "Let's play cards."

N startles when he sees B: leaps straight up, like a cat, every scale on end, every muscle taut. By the time he's hit the ground he's already deflating and offering a nervous smile of chattering teeth. "I... hey, B. Bittersweet? Is it only friends that call you that?"

She stares at him and he fidgets. Looks away. Looks back. "What do you want, N?" she questions, only after a good five minutes have passed.

N blinks. Shouldn't I be asking you that runs through his eyes, clear as windows, and then the guards come up: it's like shutters, or drapes being drawn. "Nothing? Nothing. I think. Wait." Even with the nervous hiccups, he licks his chapped lips, swipes his hand along a scar under his eye, takes a breath, tries again. "I want Nokken to be happy? And she seems happy here."

B leaves, then: simply turns on her heels and pads away.

"Wait, is that all? B- Bittersweet? Boss...lady?"

---

"What do you want, N?"

The answer comes easier the second time: despite it being the dead of night, despite not knowing B was there, N doesn't startle. He gives her a side glance, a cocky smile, and says, "Nothing. I want Nokken to be happy", obedient and dutiful as if he's reading from a textbook. "And she seems pretty happy here."

She turns to leave, and N darts into her way. That cocky smile is wide, radiant, and for a second his eyes shine with mischief. "Is that all, Bittersweet? Bosslady?"

She stares at him, and he meets her gaze. A minute ticks by, then another.

B smiles. "Yes, Neon. That is all."

His smile falters, and for a moment, it's like before: like trying to look through a window and finding the drapes drawn. Then his smile is back, with a steely edge as he steps to the side. "Will that be a problem?"

"No."

She smells it first: sour, acrid, salty smoke, but so faint she almost doesn't realize it's a dragon and not a smell on a dragon.

Terrance hovers near Rian, asking questions, saying things, every blink threatening to bring him to tears, every breath ragged with hope, then sorrow. Everyone knows there's something to Terrance, that he hope-wishes-prays for something from Rian. Whatever it is, he isn't finding it, and B entertains an idea as she turns that smell over in her head.

She discards it just as quickly.

Taking matters into her own claws would be a distraction. It's not her concern. Besides, Rian was always a bleeding heart. By this point he won't be convinced to let the dragon go.

The Guardian is a scrawny thing. There are bruises when she moves, visible under the scales. There's blood she missed, caught in the webbing between her toes. She's missing teeth, breathing funny, and by all rights should be downright pathetic.

"Die," she spits, and B can almost feel the heat from the word. There's hatred, disgust, and then elemental frost. This dragon is nothing like her element; fire would fit much better. She's dangerous.

"She followed Terrance," Rian says, and that alone sets off alarm bells. Terrance is that- strange one. The one who's seems like he'd die of a broken heart. "Introduce yourselves," Rian continues, and B sees the way the small one bristles.

"Elyne," the stranger spits, and the name may as well be poison. She's not even trying to play nice.

"Bittersweet," B says, as calm as she can.

Rian looks at her, and she knows: they'll be having a chat, later. He allowed Elyne into the clan; he must know how volatile she is. But he'll want to know why B hates her, since B is nothing but dutiful.

"I can't find him," Rian says, and then B corrects herself: that isn't Rian, that's Rain. The copy.

The two have a strange inability to see each other. Rain's gaze will skip over Rian, drift past him again and again with increasing frustration. Others think it's because they look near identical, save the size, but Asimi's children are quite the same with none of the issues.

As it is, Rian is talking quietly with Nika, nestled under the bone shelter they call headquarters. It's impossible to miss him.

B points, wordlessly, and Rain dips his head before trotting over to Nika. As she watches, Rain pauses: glances past Rian with him less than ten feet away, once, twice, before his gaze locks on and his mouth starts to move. Rian seems intrigued, nods and makes a motion, flicks his tail a little bit.

And Rain dips his head before walking away.

It takes a moment for B to realize Rain is heading towards her. He stands a respectful distance away before saying "Thank you" quite clearly.

To everyone else, his voice is exactly like Rian's: soft, mild, polite with no hint of deception.

His voice isn't exactly like Rian's. Rain's voice sends a chill down B's spine as he walks away, and it has nothing to do with tone or intent.

(This one uses human ages as a time gauge; Wildfire is 29, Bittersweet is 28.)
"I will never forgive you," B says. Wildfire looks like she's been slapped. Her eyes blaze, and then B spits, "Spare me. You did this."

"You are as much to blame as myself."

"You crossed the line!" For a moment, fire blazes along B's jaws, so hot and bright Wildfire has to avert her eyes. When she looks back it's snuffed out, only smoke and singed fabric along B's jaws to show where it was. The words are tumbling out: "The only one to blame is yourself, you impatient, arrogant-"

"I waited for you. I was patient! You didn't care, didn't want to listen- I needed to make you listen!"

B clamps her teeth together so quickly, so hard, that they slice her lips. It's only when she's certain she has some semblance of calm that she spits, "How long?"

Wildfire's words stumbles, stops. "I- I don't-"

"You waited for me. How long did I wait for you?"

"...Three years?"

"Nine." The hiss sends a chill down Wildfire's spine, and B grins. Fire traces along her skin: on her arms, legs, hips stomach ankles back. It's only when they burn the edges of her eyepatch that Wildfire realizes what B is showing her: numerous scars, some light, some dark, all outlined and bright enough to see in the darkness. "Where are your scars, Wildfire?"

Wildfire swallows. biting her lip. Bowing her head. "I have... none."

B could gloat. Instead the fire flickers out, and B rips the scorched eyepatch from her face. The hole where her eye used to be is unsettling, a shallow darkness set into B's skull. She makes no move to cover it and spare Wildfire the discomfort. "Leave me."

How long? is on the tip of Wildfire's tongue, an echo of B's furious question.

She has no right to ask that, anymore.