Cassiel

The mornings after a battle were always wrought with sorrow, Cassiel observed; dragons mourned and cleaned their wounds, carried their dead away, and filtered through countless corpses in order to find (or hoped not to find) individuals that they knew. Cassiel pitied these fools, these squabbling mortals that decided, hey, we only have one life, let's squander it on fighting and bloodshed. The angelic tundra sighed, his multiple eyes closed in deep thought as he observed the aftermath from afar.

There was one, however... One individual that had caught his eye prior; a stark contrast to the darkened warriors and armored fighters- the reds and blacks and browns that killers so favored were severely lacking on this male, a tundra he later found out. He wore attire akin to someone who did not wish to fight, a healer perhaps, Cassiel thought. A healer that he had decided to keep an eye (or multiple eyes) on, for reasons he did not yet understand. Why, of all dragons, did this luminous male catch his attention? Was it perhaps the arc of light behind his head? Was it maybe his wings, so akin to Cassiel's own? he did not yet know... But he wanted to find out.

So Cassiel had waited for the fighting to end. He had no hurry, nor felt the need to help either side; he observed in silence. Sorrowful silence for the fallen, sorrowful silence for the living.

Until he saw that healer again. Well- could he truly be considered a healer after what Cassiel had witnessed? A brute, more like- a mirror in tundra's skin. A monster hidden underneath clear blue eyes and the chant of "Saint! Saint!" from those around him.

" A Saint?... I see...", Cassiel whispered to himself, his voice soft, for he did not speak often. But he decided that, today, he shall intervene; he shall speak to this "Saint". So with silent wings and a gentle breeze, Cassiel descended down upon the battlefield, his paws unsullied by the blood that soaked the ground. No one around seemed to be aware of his presence save for the Tundra that he wished to speak to.

" Do not fear", Cassiel told the other Tundra, his features set in a calm, pleasant expression. " I merely wish to talk".
" Who-?!"
" I am Cassiel, and I have been observing you, Healer Saint. You have peaked my curiosity like none other before... Why is that? I do not understand, and I wish to"

The tundra known as Auxentrius was clearly not used to this type of encounter. He shifted from one foot to another in what Cassiel took to be mild uncomfort. So he bowed his head in apology.
" Please forgive my rude intrusion. I have seen you fight and i have seen you heal, and i shall assume you are not yet done with the latter. However," Cassiel paused, the many eyes on his body opening and closing in a calm yet unnerving manner, reappearing all over his body with no rhyme nor reason. " Once you are done with your duties, Saint, it would greatly please me to share a word with you once more. I await you by the Willow.", he gestures with his paw towards a small hill behind the battlefield, where a lone Willow tree grew.

Once Auxentrius' eyes returned to where the other Tundra once stood, he saw nothing but empty space, bloodied soil and his men and fighters gather themselves up to heal their wounds. Had... no one seen him? Had ... he been chosen?

Perhaps Auxentrius was more of a Saint than he was given credit for...