Somnis

"I just want a nap."

---

Somnis notices the gaggle of dragons in the periphery of his vision and hearing; in response, he flattens his ears against his unkempt mane. He raises his gaze back to the fae on his head again, of whom he had a special intolerance for. Said fae was chattering off again, long strings of monotone dialogue that boiled down, in essentiality, to nothing.
“Sweet Void, can’t you shut it?” a gripe from the indeed, mysterious and brooding fellow. Somnis, looking increasingly coal-faced, clicks his tongue and closes his eyes. “Evidently, you can. A rather boring one, too.” He pauses to open his eyes and for the effect. Mostly for the effect though. “Now get your straw mat out of my line of sight before I trip and throw you off.”
His diminutive companion doesn’t comment on the remark about his wig.“Oh, fine. But only because it’s you, okay? My little Somny-Womny.'' He flares up his frills in a sign of affection unnoticed by its recipient. Somnis adjusts the wagonload’s worth of incense, seeing orbs, and other spirit-appeasing paraphernalia on his back and continues walking through the bustling seaside market. He takes great care in dispatching any would-be jewel thieves with a quick flick of the tail, not that there were many anyway-- usually, a simple stare would be enough. The rare, more belligerent ones were usually dissuaded by one of the however many traveling spirits Vie had on him. Soon, the gaggle of dragons investigating the oddly contradictory travelers were long gone and said travelers found their way to an abandoned stretch of the beach.

That section of the shoreline was abandoned, and for good reason. Unreasonably sheer-faced cliffs offered little protection from the not-so-gentle sunlight and the sea breeze that rolled off them was either nonexistent or just strong enough to throw sand in one’s eyes. Tide pools were few, and even fewer were viable sources of shade at noon. The heat of the summer sun is hampered just barely by the silhouette of a ruined kite system, the tattered tassels of which still lifted and flowed with the soft ocean breeze, a last attempt at feigning life. The incoming tide laps at the broken home of the tragic Wind clan it belonged to, of which no member is to be found. With each venture to the shore, the waters made came hundreds of fragments of shells and the indistinguishable remains of other sea life. Makes sense that no one’s here, Somnis thinks. Why would anyone choose to spend their time on the saddest section of the shore? His train of thought, however, is soon broken by the distinct pinch of nimble claws holding tightly onto his mane.
Vie deftly clambers off Somnis with the dexterity of torchlight in the darkness, hopping down the rest of the way to land onto the soft white sands. Despite the entrance, he lets loose a complaint in the same soporific tone of voice as usual. “You wouldn’t get it.” Somnis fans himself with his wings, mind racing with pejoratives about the temperature. “Anyways, you better not climb back onto my head with all that sand on you after.”

“‘Coarse I won’t. Why would I sully the mane of my dear sweet apprentice?” Vie good-naturedly jokes-- jokes? It was hard to tell with him--as he pulls out a miniature menhir whose face was riddled with holes from one of the bags on Somnis’ back. The aforesaid apprentice watches him stumble a few steps back, struggling to accommodate the weight of the rock, before immersing himself in the comforting repetition of fanning himself again.

Vie, who had, in the time taken to direct the attention away from him, scampered over to the other side, runs a hand down the cracked wooden spine of one of the kites in the chain. He settles on a spot near the main clearing of the debris, gingerly lowing the rock down before kicking up sand to anchor it. “Poor souls,” he utters, before plucking a curious pillbug off the fraying timbers nearby and putting it in his mouth.

Somnis turns his ears to the sound of Vie crunching the crustacean’s carapace. “What’re you eating?”

Vie looks up in reply. “What, you hungry? I’ll find another one for you,” he mumbles before diving into the wreckage to hunt for more of what he tasted. He eventually finds his way to the top of the fraying timbers, clutching a handful of balled-up pillbugs. He holds them out to Somnis, who turns his head in curt refusal. “No thanks,” he adds on to boot. “Besides, aren’t pillbugs crustaceans?”
“Anyway, how large a job do you think that’ll be?” Somnis shifts from his resting position to circle around the scene.

“Eh. On a scale from one to ‘no-amount-of-salt’ll-save-us-now,’ I’ll say bordering inner Shadow territory. I mean, the locals did pool their money together to pay us a call.” Vie spits out some sand before making a face. “Aye, gimme a drink, will you?” Somnis, about to overheat and clearly not in the place for arguing, reaches for his waterskin and dribbles some of it into his mentor’s mouth. “Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?” Vie taps his chin, then transcribes those taps onto the kite remnants. “ Now let’s see here, apparently, this used to be an orphanage of sorts. Group of young’ins banded up and took over some abandoned clan home, then for some reason it crashed down here.” “Oh, whatever. You’ve heard this already. I want thunderbolts and lightning,(which are very very frightening by the way,) the works.” Vie rubs his hands together. He gets to work with drawing a spell circle around said rock, as does Somnis with conjuring up a storm. An arc of lightning lighting up the sky and the rolling clap of thunder that followed announce the latter’s success.
Immediately the hostile tinge of static and a sudden chill seep into the air. Somnis nods yet again and runs a hand through his quickly-curling mane. He’s not alone, though, as the sensation of icy-cold fingers racing up and down his neck greets him, to rather little effect.