Lyune

Euphrasie tries not to show her flinch in response to the low, guttural hiss she males, but the waitress has to be honest with herself; the other woman is intimidating, the white of her viper fangs only magnified in their viciousness by the blue of her tongue. Her burnt and tattered wings close around them, and though Pearlcatchers are supposed to be bigger than a typical Banescale, she knows this other dragon dwarfs many of her peers. Everything about this Banescale screams familiarity but also strangeness, as if she were looking into a murky pond and could only make out blurry images of suckers in the mud bed.

But she steels herself anyway, as she meets the piercing stare. "You're hurt. Ma'am, I don't want you wandering around when you're clearly in need of aid. Let me help you!"

The hissing worsens. Euphrasie's ears pin backward as the lady stiffens, rising to a towering height over her. "At what cost?" the other bites, baring her rows of sharp teeth. "A Claw of Blight cannot trust the words of those outside her clan. Whatever would make me think otherwise? Surely there is an unseen cost to be paid."

That's...quite an archaic way of looking at things, but Euphrasie can't question the other's background. "You're not with your clan," she observes quietly, even as the Banescale growls. "And I don't expect you to pay me anything. Come with me so I can treat your wounds, and we can see about getting you reunited with your clan mates."

There's a pause, and the other seems to slightly deflate from the steadiness of her answer. "...Why would you help me?" she questions. Euphrasie shrugs.

"Why wouldn't I?"

~~

For once, there is a new emotion that isn't blatant distrust or anger on the sorceress' face, as Lyune looks over the vast, crawling expanse of thorny weeds and curves that make up the Foxfire Bramble. Scheherazade looks at Euphrasie, who in turn looks at the still form of the other dragoness. Lyune is incredibly quiet, until she breaks the silence with muted, awed words.

"This...is not the world I remember."

The Keeper of the Veil blinks, her brows knitting together as she questions, "No? But I thought you said you were from the Scarred Wasteland? Surely it doesn't look familiar to you, if you came from another area."

The girls watch as the woman shakes her head, returning her periwinkle eyes to them. "I have been to these brambles before," she informs them, much to their surprise. "Long ago, when I...when I..." And she stops, before she sighs.

Turning to them both, Lyune explains, "As you may have guessed it, I am of the Claw of Blight that once hunted their greatest nemesis, the Mirror child known as Telahlo."

"It was hard not to," Euphrasie admits. Looking at Scheherazade, who frowns, she adds, "When you realized that Zadie is technically Telahlo's great-granddaughter by adoption or whatever, you sort of...flipped out."

"I apologize again, for that." The Banescale sighs. "It was...difficult, to believe that her line persists in such a way."

"I'm not her blood relative though. It's barely in name too," the wearied Keeper answers. But Lyune shakes her head.

"No, you are her descendant, whether or not you can believe it. And the fact of the matter is, I am a part of the clan that fought her, and was tasked with eliminating her family." Here, she frowns heavily. "But...the last descendant I recall, who belonged to her family line, was a dragoness by the name of Isis."

"Isis?" Scheherazade's eyes light up, as Euphrasie echoes the same, along with the question, "Who's Isis?"

The Keeper tells her friend, "That was the name of the Ridgeback who saved me and Sinbad all those years ago, in Churnscar. You see a photo of her everyday!"

In saying that, Euphrasie blinks, her mouth dropping open. "You mean the one your Dad keeps on the tavern's fireplace?!" She seems awed as she asks Lyune, "You saw that lady, with mechanical wings?"

"I did," the sorceress answers. "My own father gave her the reason to have those mechanical wings built. It was long ago, during their duel which she won. I was the enemy who hunted her, shortly before my memories stop...or have disappeared. I don't know which it is."

Such news makes both of them wary, that Euphrasie prods, "...Lyune, answer me honestly. Is that what you want? Do you still want to fulfill your mission?"

To that, both breathe a sigh of relief as the banescale shakes her head again. "No. That was another goal, of another world and life. If...if this tedious peace exists, after decades of strife, I'd rather not shatter it." With sad eyes, she says quietly, "For the first time, I know what real kindness is...I don't want to lose it so soon."