Dairo

Dairo Ambassador & Alliance Manager

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Windsinger Painted Vase Trinkets A delicate vase, painted to depict the Windsinger. The brushstrokes appear to wriggle and dance across its surface, as if they yearn to peel off and fly away. 105

The Lost City Written by FourLeaf

It shouldn't have been me, he thought furiously, letting out a soft growl. She should have sent someone else.

But that wasn't an option. As one of the elders of the clan ― and one of the few who had known Aquaria the longest ― he had been chosen as the clan's ambassador. Which he didn't mind in the slightest; it was a job that meant sitting for hours on end in marble-lined meeting rooms, telling other dragons what he didn't like about them, and that was something he quite enjoyed.

However, being an ambassador apparently also meant traipsing through the wilds of Sornieth, finding new places to live and making sure nobody else found it first. He understood why she'd sent him, but also he didn't understand it, wasn't she a Pearlcatcher too? Didn't she know what it felt like, didn't she know he didn't want to do this?

Perhaps that was it, he didn't want to do this, and therefore he found it less enjoyable. Perhaps if he'd actually wanted to, and hadn't agreed simply because he considered her a friend and it would put her in his debt later on, he might find the job a bit more enjoyable.

Still, the least she could have done was send someone with him. An intimidating guard, perhaps, he thought as he growled at the shadows for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. It certainly didn't help that the shadows were everywhere; the canyon walls here rose up around him on all sides, growing narrower towards the top and allowing little sunlight to reach the bottom.

It didn't help that this place seemed to be abandoned, either. Grand buildings and statues were carved into the walls of the canyon, lined with stone pathways and wooden bridges. Many of them were built in the architectural style of nearby Harpy clans, yet were large enough for dragons to fit within. It wasn't unheard of for dragons and beastclans to live in peace, but it wasn't all that common, either.

Dairo's ears flicked forward as something clattered up ahead. Probably just a rat, he thought, but he found himself clutching his pearl closer nervously. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as he walked forward.

There it was again, somewhere on the left, the sharp clatter of pottery shards on stone. "Who's there?" Dairo said sharply, baring his teeth at the shadows and flaring his wings to seem bigger. He hoped he looked more threatening than he felt. "Come out here," he called to the shadows. "Show yourself!"

But only the silence answered him, as cold and hard as the stone beneath his claws. He stayed still for another moment, trying to convince himself that it was safe to continue. It felt like hours had passed before he moved again. There hadn't been any signs of other dragons though, which was a good thing, probably.

Perhaps when he got back, Aquaria would be pleased with this discovery. Perhaps she would choose to move the clan here, and he could find a nice large building near the top of the canyon and carve skylights in the ceiling and fill it with fancy soft pillows and never have to go out into the world again. A universe where other dragons came to him to hear his complaints about them, that would be perfect.

The place looked safe enough to him. Dairo cast one final look around, making sure he was alone. Yes, Aquaria would be very happy with this. He could go back and yell he'd checked all the buildings and everything, he'd chased out a few rivaling clans, and it was a perfectly safe place to move the clan in and never leave again. Except he hadn't been here nearly long enough to check all the buildings. Perhaps he should stay a bit longer, just to make that part of the story more believable.

Or he could leave, and find somewhere more pleasant to explore. Somewhere with sunlight and open skies and dragons he knew, preferably. But it was a long way back to the entrance of the canyons; the top here was too narrow for most dragons to fly through, and that included him. There were plenty of artifacts to look at anyway, and he wouldn't turn down a chance to learn more about the city's previous inhabitants, anyway. He needed to know why they had left, and how he could convince Aquaria that they were wrong.

Dairo poked through some of the pottery shards, searching for clues. But there was nothing here beyond colorful pieces of ceramic, many of which had yet to meet the harshness of the sun. Vases, pots, rugs, curtains... this was hopeless. Whatever clues the previous clan might have left, they'd taken with them; even the few scraps of parchment he'd found were blank, as if someone had been making a book and simply forgotten to add them in.

The Pearlcatcher sighed in frustration, throwing a shard to the ground again. He'd have to find some other way to convince Aquaria. Perhaps he could say he'd talked the previous inhabitants into leaving, and selling the canyon city to him for a low price.

A silvery glint caught Dairo's eye as he spread his wings, making him pause for a moment. That hadn't been there before. He reached toward it curiously; it was a piece of treasure, but also not treasure, it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was rusted too, and in much worse condition than many of the other artifacts in the canyon city.

Dairo turned it between his talons curiously. It had to come from somewhere, but it wasn't from here, or at least he didn't think it was. So who left it here? Maybe someone had been here before him, or maybe he'd been followed. Maybe whoever has left it was still down here somewhere, watching him.

He can't be trusted. Dairo nearly dropped the coin in surprise. It had been his thought, but also, not his thought. He looked around frantically, holding his pearl closer, baring his teeth. "Who's there?"

Quiet! He might hear you!

Dairo growled softly. That definitely wasn't him. Someone was in his head. "Who's 'he'? And who are you?"

That's not important right now. Listen to me. He can't know you have it. He can't be trusted.

There was a pause. Dairo's tail twitched nervously as debated whether or not to run, and wondered who was doing this to him, and who would pull such a dirty trick, and just what the mystery voice was talking about.

The coin, Dairo. He can't know you have the coin. It's enchanted. It lets dragons read minds. He can't get his claws on it.

"Who's 'he'?" Dairo hissed at the shadows.

Tarrin. The Wildclaw.

As if on cue, a darkness separated itself from the shadows, blocking off the only exit with slightly tattered wings and a feathered tail. Bright golden eyes glared at Dairo, silently threatening to smash the pearl he held if he dared to move.

Dairo froze, unsure of what to do. Could he trust the mystery voice? What if it was trying to trick him? Was there any way out of this?

The Wildclaw took a step forward and grinned in what Dairo thought was a most evil fashion, revealing rows of perfectly polished, razor-sharp teeth. "Going somewhere, Pearlcatcher?"