Creative Corner

Spoils


Ciron carefully scraped the sides of the cooking pot with a singed, curiously well-carved wooden ladle. He idly considered where it must've come from, and what the intricate design could have meant to who carved it in the first place.
It certainly wasn't from fire - they wouldn't put so much detail into something so flammable.

"Is it ready yet?" Mitzi asked from her perch on his shoulder.

"No," Ciron responded in monotone, tapping the ladle against the edge of the pot. "Just like the other... fifty times you asked. I promise I'll feed you the moment it's done. Why don't you go play while you wait?"

"Too hungry," she replied, adding with a whine: "why didn't you just let us eat the meat rawww, this takes too loong."

"The meat is old! If you eat it without cooking it you'll get sick," Ciron exclaimed. "Besides even fresh meat can have parasites! This is how - this is how we do it, Mitzi."

Mitzi threw her head back and groaned loudly, and Ciron finally bent down and brushed her off his shoulder. He straightened up and nudged her with his foot.
"That's enough now, go play with your siblings. Go play with Pox."

The banescale glowered before shuffling off toward the group, grumbling as she went. Ciron idly watched as she begrudgingly joined her fellow banescales in play, then turned his attention to Pox.

The skydancer had been distraught when he returned, at least until she saw Mitzi safe with him. More afraid of repercussions than the troublesome little banescale's safety, he figured. Fair enough. None of this really should have been her problem.

Maybe if he had been here when the rest of the clan headed off, he could have helped her slip away?
...No, her wings were clipped, they were on an island, and he couldn't exactly carry her, now could he? And there were still a few guards about.
And that wouldn't fix the problem either. They'd find her easily, they'd keep seeking out other clans.

Ciron studied her weary face as she watched the hatchlings play. He briefly saw some ghost of a smile cross her features as Mitzi suddenly leapt forward and tackled her brother, who let out a shocked squeal.
He noticed then that the skydancer seemed to be missing some crest feathers, and couldn't help but wonder if she'd plucked them herself.

She happened to turn her head then and caught his gaze, and at the same moment, the smell of burning hit his nose.
"Food's ready!" he called, quickly stirring the pot and working to scrape the charred bottom.

---

Ciron woke late at night, to the sound of loud arguing and the clatter of metal.

"I said I don't want 'er," came a familiar voice. "Just don't! Don't need a reason. I'll take the whiskey though."

"Looks bad, Valsig," came a less familiar one. "You just keep - "

"Ey! I said I don't care, and I don't need a reason! Buzz off," the ridgeback snapped. The flicker of his heavy silhouette passed over Ciron's tent, then. Countless more of varying sizes followed as the group moved back into the camp.

Ciron cast a quick glance over to the banescales who shared his tent. They were all still asleep, curled tightly into a ball of wings and spikes. He stood and poked his head through the tent flap.

Most of the dragons held either a weapon or a bag of some sort, though a few were carrying crates and chests. He saw Valsig slide whatever he was carrying onto the ground, then lie down off near the distant tents.

A glance back to what seemed to be the last of the group filtered back in. He saw Altiel, who was leading another two dragons carrying what at first seemed to just be rolled carpet - until he noticed it had begun to move.

"Weaver's sake," Altiel remarked, sounding bored as he watched the two dragons struggle with their captive. He fired a contuse bolt from his mouth, aimed directly at the bundle, which immediately slumped.
"Deal with this before she flies off."

"I - I don't know how to clip wings who don't have feathers - " one of the dragons stammered.

"You bolt them - just take her to Siarl," Valtiel responded, shaking his head and turning back toward the camp. Ciron ducked back in then and lay down, biting back the nausea he felt.

It was only then he noticed Mitzi had woken, and was looking at him with confused eyes.




<sub>Just an average day in Altiel's clan.
Ciron sure is introspective.

Anyway this is the direct continuation of the last chapter with Ciron, because chapter order is a difficult thing to manage in this format.

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[img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/cc1c34f0a992c24b3bacfac8725a834f/b427ce344fd45c1c-bf/s400x600/36dd75e4454fd177b3aa19da24be32e13778ab74.png[/img] ScrEM

Another Grey Dawn

Morning came, and things seemed the same as any other day, more or less. Whatever had been taken in the night had been put away, and aside from the majority of the clan being bleary-eyed there was really no hint they'd done anything at all.
Ciron had shushed Mitzi back to sleep without explaining anything. It certainly wouldn't have done any good. He just had to focus on getting them out before the situation could really affect the hatchlings.
Or, well, that wasn't enough. He wanted to stop it all, that was why he sought his father out in the first place.

Maybe some part of him had thought they really would stop once he was there, or at least he'd be consulted so he could try to convince the others not to.
Stupid.

As he made his way past the tents, the banescales bustling behind him, he became slowly aware that something was feeling distinctly different after all. There was something in how the others were looking at him: a sort of expectation with various degrees of unease.
He did his best to ignore it as he led the hatchlings to the cooking pit and accepted the platter of food that was pushed into his hands.

He carried the food off away from the rest of the clan before setting it down for the ravenous group to set upon. He lay down, looking out over the water and trying to plan as the hatchlings tore into their pile of salted fish.

Perhaps if he could just get enough people to listen to him over Altiel... it didn't have to be everyone, just enough. Surely they didn't all like pillaging other clans, it didn't make sense to him.
The pearlcatcher frowned, staring down at his talons and stretching them.
The other - obvious - option would be to take out Altiel. He knew that logically, but he couldn't imagine killing another dragon in practice.
Weakness, was all he could attribute it to.

Amidst the noise of the hatchlings, he heard footfalls and looked up to see Altiel approaching. He quickly sat up and turned to face him.

"Good morning," the white pearlcatcher said simply. "Are you rested?"

"I - yes," Ciron stammered. "I'm fine."

"Good, follow me then," Altiel replied, nodding once before turning and starting to walk away. "I've found you a mate."


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OH? Ciron gonna be a papa?

edit: Why did I misrad that as Citrin XD

@IronPen

Well he was the first adult the banes ever saw so he kind of wound up ersatz dad to them by default, and thanks to his upbringing he kind of is of the mind of "you found it, you raise it" lol.
Also, it's funny you should say that. Literally only while writing this chapter did it occur to me his name was a letter off from Citron. I never noticed before. Somehow.

Might technically be spoilers but here's my odds-defying nest.

Tagalong

Edan once more found himself sitting at his table, staring across at two strangers.

Though this time, they seemed rather oblivious to the tension in the room, and were more focused on inane banter and bickering with each other - and there was a third happily helping Ila in the kitchen.

Reika, seated to his right, exchanged an incredulous glance. Hazel, to his left, appeared to be suffering from a sudden migraine.

"...and Flotsam Town was just fascinating, there really isn't anywhere else like it."

"I mean The Isles have floating towns."

"I don't mean how they -"

"They don't even need water."

"I'm talking about the atmosphe-"

"I would know, I was born there. You were born in a tree."

"For Gods' sake - "

"Okay. So Edan said you had information," Reika prompted, gesturing stiffly for them to just get on with it.

"Oh absolutely, in exchange for a dinner! Which we're waiting on still," the little grey dragon replied, her nose crinkling as she smiled.

"Almost ready," Ila said swiftly, suddenly rushing to the table with a few sliced loaves of bread - freshly warmed from the oven- and seed butter.

"And it smells lovely, did you really make all this?" Deimoro asked, his fins flaring outward.

"I- well, not always, but most of the time!" Ila replied, quickly turning back to check on the pot Quen had been stirring. "I like cooking, but everyone here can if they need to."

"That's something I've always wanted to learn, though we don't really get the chance to use an actual kitchen much," the fae responded with a nod, his eyes still on her as he reached for a slice of bread.

"Mhmmm, I suppose that's true," Quen nodded. "Not that you help me much when we make camp, Deims."

"Well, Quen, your cookware is way too big for me," Deimoro replied, crests flicking backward.

Face Eater snorted.

Edan frowned.

"Alright, it's done, I think!" Ila announced, quickly ladling stew out into bowls and serving them out one by one.

"Thank you," Deimoro said, taking his gratefully. He and Face Eater bowed their heads in unison before starting to eat.
Quen joined them at the table, and Ila stepped outside to let everyone else know they could come serve themselves.

A few tense, quiet moments passed as their guests ate, and then Face Eater lifted her bowl and downed it in a flourish.
"Okay!" she began, slamming it back down on the table. "So, we already talked about that stupid ambush. Quen thought we might be able to just walk off peacefully, but that damn pearlcatcher tried to take a swipe at Deims the moment he tried to fly off, so - " she made a quick slashing motion with her claw. "Dagger to the eye, Quen starts charging, and then he was running."

"Mhm," the gaoler nodded. "I think they must not have expected us to actually be a threat somehow. They all bolted."

"But," Deimoro said, holding up a claw. "As they ran off, they said they’d meet up with their group off in the Ashwastes and then come back with a whole army and burn our house to the ground."

"Idiots!" Face Eater snickered. "We don't even have a house!"

"But, yes, there you go! Ashwastes. If they're part of that group you're after, there you have it," Deimoro shrugged. "The clans there are on the tougher side, and you'd probably just have to follow the main trade routes to find out where they are - word travels fast there."

Edan blinked.
"That... makes sense, actually," he mused, before glancing over at Hazel.
The skydancer didn't seem to be in any state to respond. Ila had slipped back in at some point and was offering her water.

"Worth a hot meal, huh?" Face Eater asked wryly.

"But! I think we should do you one better!" Deimoro said, clapping his hands together. "If this group really is such a threat, we should come with you."

"What?" Face Eater snapped. "No we shouldn't!"

"There's no need for that," Edan stated flatly.

"I think we should, though," Deimoro continued. "We let four go, and we shouldn't have. If they hurt anyone else, part of that's on us."

"No it's not," Face Eater rolled her eyes.

"We're not in some cosmic debt for not killing someone," Quen added.

"I still think we should help," Deimoro stated, flattening his crests. "We're capable fighters, and the more dragons, the more likely our kind hosts here are to win."

A pause.

"And it's not like either of your have anything better to do," he added, flicking a frill.

"I suppose," Quen relented, before turning to Edan. "If you'll have us, anyway."

"Like I said, it's not necess-"

"You're right, Deimoro, we could use the extra help," Ila cut in. "And we currently have an empty room, as well. I imagine we'll be making our preparations and then heading South as soon as possible."

Edan turned to the nocturne, only to find her avoiding his gaze.

"Keeper's snot, fine," Reika exclaimed, throwing her claws in the air before standing. "I'm going to go see if Tarot's back yet so we can go over our gear."

As Reika left, Ila walked the newcomers to the side room, and Edan found himself alone at the table with Hazel.
The skydancer, who had been silently clutching her head for much of the time, finally let out a swear.

"So... the fae," Edan began. "Was he being honest?"

"Gods," Hazel breathed. "I... think so? It was hard to hear him. The other little dragon, she was buzzing so loud."

"Buzzing?" Edan frowned.

Hazel pointed at her antennae. "Buzzing. It was so loud, I couldn't understand what..." she paused, then shook her head, squinting her eyes shut. "She's really weird. I couldn't read her. They're all weird. I wish Runie was here..."

"Mhm," Edan nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Me too. But she ain't right now, so I need your help."

"They're all weird," she repeated, then scooted a little closer. "The fae though..." she began, her voice a low whisper.

"Yea?"

"I think he's just kind of dumb."


<sub>So my son is going through A Phase. Where he just wants to scream and hit and Not sleep. I'm losin' it. Here have another chapter.



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Yessssssss!!! Can't wait to see the next chapter, wonder how everyone's gonna take going on the offensive!! :O

Ohhh i hope you get some sleep!

@IronPen

Last night was hell but I did get a lil nap today.