Yadira
(#51635575)
a fool's trap
Familiar
Cracked Crystal
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Water.
Female Skydancer
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.46 m
Wingspan
3.8 m
Weight
702.08 kg
Genetics
Coal
Basic
Basic
Cornflower
Bee
Bee
Abyss
Ringlets
Ringlets
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Skydancer
EXP: 69 / 27676
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
7
VIT
7
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
| __._ |
Tales for Heinous Hatchlings __________________________________ ______________ chapter 4 
Yadira looked up as a fae messenger slipped into the tent. “How goes it?” The fae’s crest shuttered open and shut a few times, betraying their nervousness. “The negotiations aren’t going . . . well,” they said. “But Commander Ty sent me to say—” Yadira snapped her jaws once, firm and decisive, shutting the young messenger up at once. The skydancer stalked forward until she stood over the fae. “How goes it?” she repeated. The fae’s gaze drifted from Yadira’s blue eyes down her body, roving over the armor already buckled on, the weapons, the readiness of her stance, and buzz of her magic, alive and attentive. They sighed, crest flattening. “They’re going to fail,” they admitted in a low voice. “Whenever our diplomats get anywhere, Heir Haleen causes a ruckus, raising everyone’s hackles again. Their aggression is infective.” Can hardly argue that, Yadira thought with a grunt. Out loud, she growled, “My turn, then,” and strode past the messenger, out of the tent, too quickly to see the fae’s eyes widen, their crest flare in alarm. They flew after her, pleading for her to turn back, but Yadira didn’t let them lure her into an argument, ignoring their complaints as she set her gaze on the Truce Hall (actually a tent, like the rest of the war camp structures) and walked straight for it. Other dragons, upon catching sight of her, darted to and fro, some for the Hall, others attempting to intercept and slow Yadira. She marched past them all, knocking aside those who got too clingy with a flick of her wing. Truce Hall was striped in blue and white, her clan’s colors, as the ceasefire negotiations had been agreed to be held in her clan’s camp. Tables had been set up all around the tent’s open-walled perimeter, split in two sides for each faction, with an open space in the middle for each clan’s spokesperson to stand in while they presented their arguments. Those seated at the tables, the battle commanders and nobility and delegates, would listen, discuss amongst themselves, send their own dragon with counterproposals, and thus debate back and forth until a treaty so packed with petty insults and poisonous compromises could reluctantly and angrily be signed by both sides for so-called peace. A singular figure stood out amongst those seated, taking up the entirety of the speaking square with their wide, outspread wings, lashing tail, and most of all, snarling jaws spitting hateful lies. Haleen, Heir of the Sedgewoods. As she approached the Hall, those seated on the outskirts, made aware of her coming by their couriers, hastened out of her way with wide, alarmed eyes and speculative expressions. Yadira paid them no heed, striding straight for that central speaking space. The wildclaw there saw her at last and shut their jaws, lowering their head like that of a hunting creature, eyes gleaming and feather crest poofed out slightly, in both threat and invitation. Just like the Heir’s way. Commander Ty growled, “Lady Yadira. This conversation is not for you. Step back.” Yadira ignored him. She had eyes only for the wildclaw taunting and tempting her. “I declare this truce and negotiation null, for I have been insulted by the Sedgewood Clan’s Heir, and must be recompensed.” Whisperings and mutterings erupted at her words, from both sides. Commander Ty tried again, “Yadira. Don’t do this.” Closing her ears to her old mentor, Yadira lifted her head and met Haleen’s eyes, excitement firing through her veins at the sharp interest and challenge she saw reflected in his gaze. “I challenge you, Heir Haleen, to a duel. I choose the place: Here.” Before any from their side could argue, Haleen responded just as quick, “I choose the time. Now.” They showed their teeth. “May the outcome determine our clan rivalry,” Yadira said, sealing the deal. Her heart pounded, as she and Haleen began to circle. She was committed now. Finally, she would take what she wanted. “Yadira.” Rising above the tense, excited chatter of the officials-turned-spectators, Ty’s voice was now weighed with heavy surrender, knowing nothing he said could stop the fight now. “Be careful.” Hardly the words to inspire, but Yadira didn’t mind. Her teeth flashed, mirroring Haleen’s eagerness. “Don’t worry. I can take them.” Haleen rushed her. Yadira ducked and rolled, feeling their claws skim her side as she slid around them. As they spun, Yadira leapt forward and clamped her jaws around their neck, grabbed their wings in her claws, and before they could wrestle out of her grasp, whipped her tail at their legs to make them buckle. Using the momentum of their fall, Yadira spun around and threw them far, out of the cleared center, over the hastilly-ducked heads of their audience, past the tent—over the edge of the cliff. Gasps and horrified cries met Haleen’s thrashing tumble into open air, the crowd lunging forward as they fell out of sight. Yadira grinned, jumped into the air to fly over the mass of dragons, then folded her wings and dove down in pursuit of the heir. ~ The fall was a long one. With Yadira’s pinned wings and arrow-shaped dive, she caught up to Haleen’s wild plummet quickly, catching them in her claws and slamming them against the canyon’s wall. Stone broke at the impact, crumbling around the two, Haleen roaring in pain and surprise before managing to buck Yadira off. She spun away, then darted back, again and again, bashing them against spurs of rock and outcroppings of hardy brush and trees, harrying them down with slashes of claws and snapping teeth so the heir never managed more than a few seconds of controlled flight—never a chance to escape and fly back to the war camps. Once near the bottom of the ravine, Yadira knew they’d be well out of view of the clans and the early scouts sent after them. She grabbed Haleen once more and, ignoring their teeth snapping at her neck, bundled them into a cave, tossing them to bump and skid across the stone floor as they attempted to slow down. She landed lightly at the entrance, giving her feathers a shake before folding her wings and walking deeper in, claws clicking on the stone as she closed in on the heir. “At last,” she said, voice low and shaking with anticipation, want. “Now I have you.” Haleen finally sorted out their limbs and whipped to their feet, ready in an aggressive stance, then hesitated, eyes calculating. They ran their tongue over their teeth, considering Yadira’s steady advance, and backed away, still crouched low. Their manner changed subtly—still down to fight, but with a tilt of their crest, a gleam in their eye, Yadira knew they felt the same way she did. They laughed, a rumble in their chest that built to a hoarse bark at the end. “You got me alone,” they purred, backing up until their tail hit the far end of the cave and they were forced to stop. Yadira kept coming forward, and they let her press them up against the wall, not resisting as she pushed her claws against their neck, leaning up so close they heard another’s ragged breathing. At her silence, Haleen swallowed and licked their teeth again, still panting softly. “What will you do now?” Yadira’s voice came out in a hiss. “What I want.” Not much was said after that. Not until . . . when they’d finished, lay hot and tousled and thoroughly satisfied together, Haleen began to laugh. Yadira rolled to face them. “What?” The heir shook their head. “I’m imagining the look on your Commander’s face right now, as his plans are ruined, his army crushed, territory overrun. All hope lost, thanks to treachery—and my own good looks, of course.” Yadira twitched. “What do you mean?” Haleen didn’t reply, humming some idle tune, looking very pleased with themself. Yadira seized their foreleg, claws tight enough to draw blood. “Haleen. What are you talking about.” They turned their head at last, just the edges of their teeth showing as they met her gaze. “Imagine his face,” they said softly, “after he discovers his prize warrior, the clan’s best fighter, is too distracted to come back and save the day.” Their voice dipped darkly at the end, dripping venom. Yadira scrambled to her feet, running for the cave entrance. She skidded to a stop just before tumbling out, holding onto a rock to anchor herself as she leaned out, craning her head up, up, up. A column of smoke rose from the top of the canyon—where—where—her clan’s camp lay. She could hear screams. “Such a hero,” Haleen snarled, and pounced.
| ___ |
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