@cantripping Here’s your finished review! I hope you enjoy~
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[font=constantia]Ever since the return of the Ancients, T’Vran dwelled constantly on the stories they might have to tell. The trouble was that few wanted to talk, especially to strange dragons from distant lands. Nonetheless, she ventured in the direction of the Southern Icefield, asking after clans who might be more hospitable to visitors. Eventually she heard tales - rumors really - of a hidden valley that sheltered a group led by a gaoler.
Rumors weren’t much to go on in terms of directions, but T’Vran proceeded onwards nevertheless, thoroughly bundled against the cold of the Icefield. Days passed with little to see but ice and snow, but one day she caught sight of an incongruous spot of green - just as the rumors had described. She circled above, considering how to approach.
“Hey! Get down here!”
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[font=constantia]T’Vran blinked and looked down. Zigzagging back and forth across the ice below her, a brown spiral waved five wings to get her attention. The sixth - one of the primary flight wings - looked to be torn to shreds, probably why she wasn’t flying up to meet her.
Obligingly, T’Vran spiraled down, landing with a crunch of snow and ice beneath her claws. The spiral darted forward, ice-white eyes narrowed and all of her wings flared out in aggressive display. She looked surprisingly warm for a dragon of the Icefield, from the rich, dark brown of the scales on her body to the fiery orange of her wings.
“What’re you doing here? Trying to get past me, huh?”
“Oh, not at all,” T’Vran laughed. “Just didn’t see you.”
The spiral’s combative stance relaxed immediately, a friendly smile replacing her glare. “That’s fine then. I’m Null, one of the perimeter guards.” She puffed out her chest importantly, making the soft brown lines of the ribcage pattern on it more prominent. “Anything I can help you find?”
“Yes, actually… I’m looking for a gaoler named Mother who lives in a valley somewhere around here? I hoped she might have stories to tell.”
Null’s eyes widened. “Ohhh. Okay then. I guess that’s fine. You’ll just wanna go up through there then, you can’t miss it.” She gestured vaguely behind herself in the direction of the valley, and T’Vran nodded and thanked her for her help before she went forward on foot. For a time she still saw only ice and snow, but then there was a flash of bright green, and T’Vran stepped forward eagerly - only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw the dragon before her.
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[font=constantia]Her wings shone neon-bright against the snow, the pitch black of her body making the pattern of bones gleam a vivid, poisonous green. She turned at the sound of T’Vran’s footsteps, magenta eyes gleaming with intrigue.
“Oh? An unfamiliar face? Perhaps… a customer?” As she paced closer T’Vran couldn’t keep her eyes from fixing on her ribs - which, unlike the rest of her skeleton pattern, shone an icy blue and almost seemed… three-dimensional?
“Are those really your ribs?” T’Vran blurted curiously, then winced. “That was terribly rude, I apologize.”
“No matter, no matter,” the other dragon said, waving the apology away with an airy hand. Smoke swirled around her with the motion, a mix of darkest black and a vivid purple that almost seemed to come from within her, from those hollow spaces between her ribs. T’Vran took an unconscious step backwards before she could stop herself. “Are you certain there’s nothing I can help you with? No problems I can solve?”
“I’m… really just headed into the valley. No problems here!” T’Vran said, forcibly cheery, before she bolted off into the trees. She had the odd sense that even asking for further directions from this dragon would cost her, and that the price would be steep.
To her relief, her headlong sprint took her right into the valley, where the spookiness of the witchy dragon outside was quickly forgotten as she took in the sights of a bustling settlement. Almost immediately her eye caught on a bright sparkle, elegant twists and curls of glass shining in the sunlight. She stepped closer, reaching out toward a series of glass tubes that dangled on strings, chiming gently as the breeze moved them.
“Oh! Please - please don’t touch that!”
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[font=constantia]T’Vran pulled her hand back at once, glancing down to see a harried-looking spiral wringing his hands as he watched the chimes sway, and then settle. He breathed a sigh of relief when T’Vran made no further moves to touch, drawing a hand through a fall of ivory hair that glittered almost like the glasswork. When T’Vran looked closer, she noticed delicate beads strung through the loose braid, perhaps crafted by the same hand as the sculptures had been.
“Sorry about that. This is your work?” T’Vran guessed. The spiral nodded, managing a smile now that he’d had a chance to calm down.
“Yes, all mine. I’m Taeryn,” he introduced himself.
“T’Vran,” she replied, with a smile and nod toward the sculptures. “They’re beautiful. The way they catch the light is lovely.” They had a glassworker in her own town back home, but most of his works were smaller, beads and baubles and glassware for cooking and eating. Nothing so grand as these.
“Oh, well… thank you,” Taeryn said. Something about the way he looked over his own work, a critical glint in the warm brown of his eye, made her think he wasn’t entirely pleased with it. Still, that urge to improve was likely how he’d pushed himself to come this far, and would help him continue to grow closer to the works he envisioned.
The next place she paused was beautiful as well, though in quite a different way - rather than sparkling glass, this building’s windows revealed soft drapes of fabric in a rainbow of colors, from rich warm velvets to ethereal silks.
“Interested in some new clothing, perhaps?”
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[font=constantia]T’Vran looked up, blinking at the dragon before her in mild bewilderment. In such a remote place as this she had hardly expected to come across someone dressed so impeccably. A translucent fabric that faded from deep black to soft pink fell in an effortless curve along her flank, delicate jewelry in pink and gold accenting it. Glancing down at herself - decked out in heavy layers of sturdy canvas and leather, some frayed, others stained - T’Vran could only laugh.
“In looking at it, yes, but I fear I’d only ruin it if I wore it myself,” T’Vran admitted. From the quirk of the other dragon’s mouth it seemed she agreed, even if she held herself back from saying it for politeness’ sake.
After a time spent admiring the outfits the designer - Bella - had assembled, T’Vran hazarded a question. “I’ve heard that this valley was first discovered by a gaoler, one not native to the Southern Icefield. Might you be able to point me in her direction?”
Bella paused, casting a discerning look over her. “It’s her own decision if she’ll meet with you, of course, but you’ll find her over there.”
T’Vran thanked her, and started off in the direction she indicated. It seemed the further she walked the less the land resembled the Southern Icefield at all, the grass a healthy green, flowers blooming in bright, cheerful patches. It was next to one of those flower patches that T’Vran found the gaoler she’d been seeking.
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[font=constantia]Her fur lay in thick tufts, a pale color that reminded T’Vran of the sands of her home streaked with darker brown in some places, lightening to a muted gold in others. When she looked up, her eyes gleamed so dark that T’Vran could hardly glean color from them - only when the sun caught them just right could she see they were a dark red, nearly black. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“You’re Mother, yes?” T’Vran asked, and then hurried to clarify, “Not [i]my[/i] mother obviously, I know who she is and she isn’t you, but -“
“That is my name,” Mother said, with a hint of a smile at T’Vran’s rambling.
“I had hoped I might hear your story,” T’Vran explained. “The rumors I’ve heard - a gaoler, not from the Icefield, but giving sanctuary here. Only rumors, but they didn’t sound like any of the other rumors of the ancients I’ve heard.”
“How so?” Mother asked.
T’Vran cocked her head. Those she asked for their stories rarely asked so many questions of her. “The others sound like bedtime stories to frighten hatchlings. The rumors about you sound like truth, and perhaps those truths are something others could learn from.”
Mother hummed, considering her words. “All right. It began when I was born, alone in the Abiding Boneyard…”
@
cantripping Here’s your finished review! I hope you enjoy~
Ever since the return of the Ancients, T’Vran dwelled constantly on the stories they might have to tell. The trouble was that few wanted to talk, especially to strange dragons from distant lands. Nonetheless, she ventured in the direction of the Southern Icefield, asking after clans who might be more hospitable to visitors. Eventually she heard tales - rumors really - of a hidden valley that sheltered a group led by a gaoler.
Rumors weren’t much to go on in terms of directions, but T’Vran proceeded onwards nevertheless, thoroughly bundled against the cold of the Icefield. Days passed with little to see but ice and snow, but one day she caught sight of an incongruous spot of green - just as the rumors had described. She circled above, considering how to approach.
“Hey! Get down here!”
T’Vran blinked and looked down. Zigzagging back and forth across the ice below her, a brown spiral waved five wings to get her attention. The sixth - one of the primary flight wings - looked to be torn to shreds, probably why she wasn’t flying up to meet her.
Obligingly, T’Vran spiraled down, landing with a crunch of snow and ice beneath her claws. The spiral darted forward, ice-white eyes narrowed and all of her wings flared out in aggressive display. She looked surprisingly warm for a dragon of the Icefield, from the rich, dark brown of the scales on her body to the fiery orange of her wings.
“What’re you doing here? Trying to get past me, huh?”
“Oh, not at all,” T’Vran laughed. “Just didn’t see you.”
The spiral’s combative stance relaxed immediately, a friendly smile replacing her glare. “That’s fine then. I’m Null, one of the perimeter guards.” She puffed out her chest importantly, making the soft brown lines of the ribcage pattern on it more prominent. “Anything I can help you find?”
“Yes, actually… I’m looking for a gaoler named Mother who lives in a valley somewhere around here? I hoped she might have stories to tell.”
Null’s eyes widened. “Ohhh. Okay then. I guess that’s fine. You’ll just wanna go up through there then, you can’t miss it.” She gestured vaguely behind herself in the direction of the valley, and T’Vran nodded and thanked her for her help before she went forward on foot. For a time she still saw only ice and snow, but then there was a flash of bright green, and T’Vran stepped forward eagerly - only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw the dragon before her.
Her wings shone neon-bright against the snow, the pitch black of her body making the pattern of bones gleam a vivid, poisonous green. She turned at the sound of T’Vran’s footsteps, magenta eyes gleaming with intrigue.
“Oh? An unfamiliar face? Perhaps… a customer?” As she paced closer T’Vran couldn’t keep her eyes from fixing on her ribs - which, unlike the rest of her skeleton pattern, shone an icy blue and almost seemed… three-dimensional?
“Are those really your ribs?” T’Vran blurted curiously, then winced. “That was terribly rude, I apologize.”
“No matter, no matter,” the other dragon said, waving the apology away with an airy hand. Smoke swirled around her with the motion, a mix of darkest black and a vivid purple that almost seemed to come from within her, from those hollow spaces between her ribs. T’Vran took an unconscious step backwards before she could stop herself. “Are you certain there’s nothing I can help you with? No problems I can solve?”
“I’m… really just headed into the valley. No problems here!” T’Vran said, forcibly cheery, before she bolted off into the trees. She had the odd sense that even asking for further directions from this dragon would cost her, and that the price would be steep.
To her relief, her headlong sprint took her right into the valley, where the spookiness of the witchy dragon outside was quickly forgotten as she took in the sights of a bustling settlement. Almost immediately her eye caught on a bright sparkle, elegant twists and curls of glass shining in the sunlight. She stepped closer, reaching out toward a series of glass tubes that dangled on strings, chiming gently as the breeze moved them.
“Oh! Please - please don’t touch that!”
T’Vran pulled her hand back at once, glancing down to see a harried-looking spiral wringing his hands as he watched the chimes sway, and then settle. He breathed a sigh of relief when T’Vran made no further moves to touch, drawing a hand through a fall of ivory hair that glittered almost like the glasswork. When T’Vran looked closer, she noticed delicate beads strung through the loose braid, perhaps crafted by the same hand as the sculptures had been.
“Sorry about that. This is your work?” T’Vran guessed. The spiral nodded, managing a smile now that he’d had a chance to calm down.
“Yes, all mine. I’m Taeryn,” he introduced himself.
“T’Vran,” she replied, with a smile and nod toward the sculptures. “They’re beautiful. The way they catch the light is lovely.” They had a glassworker in her own town back home, but most of his works were smaller, beads and baubles and glassware for cooking and eating. Nothing so grand as these.
“Oh, well… thank you,” Taeryn said. Something about the way he looked over his own work, a critical glint in the warm brown of his eye, made her think he wasn’t entirely pleased with it. Still, that urge to improve was likely how he’d pushed himself to come this far, and would help him continue to grow closer to the works he envisioned.
The next place she paused was beautiful as well, though in quite a different way - rather than sparkling glass, this building’s windows revealed soft drapes of fabric in a rainbow of colors, from rich warm velvets to ethereal silks.
“Interested in some new clothing, perhaps?”
T’Vran looked up, blinking at the dragon before her in mild bewilderment. In such a remote place as this she had hardly expected to come across someone dressed so impeccably. A translucent fabric that faded from deep black to soft pink fell in an effortless curve along her flank, delicate jewelry in pink and gold accenting it. Glancing down at herself - decked out in heavy layers of sturdy canvas and leather, some frayed, others stained - T’Vran could only laugh.
“In looking at it, yes, but I fear I’d only ruin it if I wore it myself,” T’Vran admitted. From the quirk of the other dragon’s mouth it seemed she agreed, even if she held herself back from saying it for politeness’ sake.
After a time spent admiring the outfits the designer - Bella - had assembled, T’Vran hazarded a question. “I’ve heard that this valley was first discovered by a gaoler, one not native to the Southern Icefield. Might you be able to point me in her direction?”
Bella paused, casting a discerning look over her. “It’s her own decision if she’ll meet with you, of course, but you’ll find her over there.”
T’Vran thanked her, and started off in the direction she indicated. It seemed the further she walked the less the land resembled the Southern Icefield at all, the grass a healthy green, flowers blooming in bright, cheerful patches. It was next to one of those flower patches that T’Vran found the gaoler she’d been seeking.
Her fur lay in thick tufts, a pale color that reminded T’Vran of the sands of her home streaked with darker brown in some places, lightening to a muted gold in others. When she looked up, her eyes gleamed so dark that T’Vran could hardly glean color from them - only when the sun caught them just right could she see they were a dark red, nearly black. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“You’re Mother, yes?” T’Vran asked, and then hurried to clarify, “Not my mother obviously, I know who she is and she isn’t you, but -“
“That is my name,” Mother said, with a hint of a smile at T’Vran’s rambling.
“I had hoped I might hear your story,” T’Vran explained. “The rumors I’ve heard - a gaoler, not from the Icefield, but giving sanctuary here. Only rumors, but they didn’t sound like any of the other rumors of the ancients I’ve heard.”
“How so?” Mother asked.
T’Vran cocked her head. Those she asked for their stories rarely asked so many questions of her. “The others sound like bedtime stories to frighten hatchlings. The rumors about you sound like truth, and perhaps those truths are something others could learn from.”
Mother hummed, considering her words. “All right. It began when I was born, alone in the Abiding Boneyard…”
it's beautiful! i reread it a couple times just to enjoy it ;u; I'm really pleased the way you ended with Mother, it works really well! Thank you so much <3
it's beautiful! i reread it a couple times just to enjoy it ;u; I'm really pleased the way you ended with Mother, it works really well! Thank you so much <3
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• +0 fr time
• they/them
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@NirnrootNoises Ze had a great time exploring the Demon Domain! And uh… it got away from me a bit… whoops.
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[font=constantia]Zeshau flashes an anticipatory smile full of fangs as he bounds through a portal into the Demon Domain. His tail whips behind him in his excitement - finally he has a chance to see where Kriik came from, and meet some of the demons they mention! Kriik’s descriptions tend to be brief and to the point, but even those bare details are so different from the fey Zeshau is familiar with.
His first steps take him into a forest much like any other, except for the trees that soar high into the sky above. The trunks vanish into darkness before he can see the canopy, but somehow there’s light enough to see by. The place is silent but for a distant crackle - perhaps brush and leaves underfoot?
Zeshau launches himself toward the sound, bursting into a clearing and startling a noise from a fluffy, hulking shape on the other side.
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[font=constantia]Immediately they growl in warning, teeth bared as one clawed paw cradles a spot in their mane. Despite their aggressive stance, Zeshau can’t hold back his grin. An actual demon! And he found them so quickly, too!
“It’s alright!” Zeshau calls, raising his own hands pacifyingly. At his voice [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=54699&tab=dragon&did=50610987]a tiny head[/url] pokes from behind the demon’s protective claws, and Zeshau feels a shiver of recognition - fey, but not of his court.
“Muf, calm down,” the other fey says, petting a soothing hand through the demon’s ruff. “It’s okay, he’s fey. And friendly,” he adds, when Muf seems unconvinced.
Zeshau smiles bigger and waves to reinforce the words, tail swishing excitedly behind him. “I am friendly! I am Zeshau, Lord of Beasts, and I am simply here to explore and meet as many demons as I can!” He can take a closer look now that Muf is starting to calm, ruffled fur settling back into order, warmth returning to his soft brown eyes. “That was incredible, by the way! Such quick reactions, and so protective!”
“That’s my Muf, Lord Zeshau,” the little fey preens, hugging his fur and pressing a quick kiss to a fluffy ear. “He takes very good care of me.” Muf ducks his head, obviously pleased. Zeshau’s own heart warms, delighted to see another example of a strong fey/demon partnership.
“Perhaps the two of you can help me,” Zeshau says brightly. “Where might I head to see even more lovely demons?”
The little fey giggles and whispers in Muf’s ear; the demon blinks and casts a doubtful look towards his partner. “I don’t know if she’d be bothered…”
Zeshau lasts a few seconds before the curiosity is unbearable. “Who’s ‘she’?”
“You’ll see,” the little fey says cryptically, before he points the way through the trees. Zeshau bounds onwards, tail swishing a farewell to the pair.
The trees in this direction grow even thicker and taller, broad trunks soaring skyward and vanishing into darkness. Something about the still quiet around him makes Zeshau slow, peering between the mossy trees before him. The roots are thick, curving above the ground like claws to leave shadowy hollows beneath. He blinks. No - not [i]like[/i] claws. They [i]are[/i] claws.
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[font=constantia]”Hello?” he calls. If those tree roots are claws… the trunks legs… then the face must be… he cranes his head, and meets two glowing eyes high above him. [i]Wow.[/i] He isn’t small by any measure, but he’s utterly dwarfed by her - he assumes this must be the [i]her[/i] the fey had spoken of.
“HELLO,” a booming rumble of a voice echoes him. Those luminous eyes sink down towards him, their glow illuminating a furred face surrounded by craggy antlers. She could be part of the forest, perhaps is a part of it, with her mottled fur like mossy bark, her antlers like knotted branches. “WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE?”
“I am Zeshau, Lord of Beasts of the Fey Court,” he answers, something about her urging him towards formality. At his words there’s a hushed murmuring - coming from her, though her great mouth doesn’t move - and then a multitude of smaller eyes blink from the darkness of her mane. “I’m looking for demons to meet!”
“I AM KRUZIIK.” A pause. “YOU SEEK… A MATE?” The other voices pick up, a soft undercurrent of excitement.
“Oh,” Zeshau laughs sheepishly. “No, I have a mate. They’re [i]wonderful[/i]… though I might need some help finding them here, it’s my first time in the Demon Domain. They’re a hellhound!”
The murmurings have a sulky disinterest now, many of them blinking out, disappearing into Kruziik’s mane. “THAT WAY,” Kruziik says, dispassionate, raising a mighty claw to point.
“Thank you!” Zeshau calls up. “May I visit again? Perhaps with fey of my court who [i]do[/i] seek mates?”
He can almost imagine those glowing eyes softening a bit. “YES.”
The further he walks from Kruziik, the more the forest changes - darkness receding, trees thinning out around him. Eventually he reaches grassier ground, a few flowers dotted here and there. A bright spot in the distance catches his eye - he bounds forward, though he slows as he gets closer. The brightness is a lush assortment of flowers, beautifully arranged in front of a worn stone, simply carved with a name.
“Don’t touch.”
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[font=constantia]Zeshau starts, whirling around. He isn’t sure how the hulking creature behind him approached so quietly, and he bristles automatically at the sight of them - their fur rent with the scars of many harsh battles, their claws long and ragged, and their face - a skull, its empty eyes blazing with fire. Still, after a long moment where they regard each other, Zeshau relaxes. They don’t feel threatening, just… sad.
He draws back from the gravestone. “I’m sorry. Were they… did you know them?”
The demon sighs, a long, weary rattle. “No… but someone should look after them all the same.” They reach down one of those ragged claws, adjusting one of the flowers with surprising delicacy.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Zeshau says softly, but gives a brief nuzzle against the rough fur of the demon’s shoulder before he goes.
He spots a six-legged shape loping in the distance, his pace picking up in excitement. “Kriik?” he calls.
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[font=constantia]Their head whips around, black ichor splattering the ground. “Do I [i]look[/i] like Kriik?” they snarl. Not Kriik, but a familiar face nonetheless.
“I mean… kind of?” Zeshau frowns, considering. “With all the legs, and dark purple-y colors… sorry Kraar.” He supposes the smoky aura around Kraar should’ve given him away, his seeping darkness nothing like the bright neons of his own beloved hellhound.
Kraar grunts a grudging acknowledgement and keeps walking, Zeshau falling into step beside him. After a few moments Kraar seems to realize the oddness of finding him here, squinting over at him. “What are you doing in the Domain?”
“Visiting Kriik,” Zeshau says brightly. “Or trying to anyway. Mostly just meeting demons… Wait, what are [i]you[/i] doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Zaprah?”
“I do have to report in occasionally,” Kraar says.
“Report? To who?”
“Kraar, you’re late.”
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[font=constantia]An icy chill runs over Zeshau’s fur, and he blinks at the demon before them. She stands tall - though not as tall as Zeshau himself - though she doesn’t need height for her imperious presence to make itself known.
“I was waylaid,” Kraar says, a wry growl. Zeshau gives her a sheepish grin, waving to admit his part in Kraar’s tardiness. It falters a bit under her cool glare, but he doggedly keeps it up as best he can.
“No excuses,” she says. “You’re fey, aren’t you?”
“Yes ma’am,” Zeshau says, “Lord of Beasts.”
“Was there something you needed, Lord of Beasts, or were you simply amusing yourself by interfering in demonic business?”
Zeshau’s tail curls between his legs automatically. Kraar, from what he can catch in his peripheral vision, looks beyond amused. “Looking for my - a hellhound. Named Kriik.”
She arches an eyebrow and points. “Go on then.”
“Yes ma’am! Right away ma’am! Bye Kraar!” He promptly sprints off. He’s hardly looking where he’s going, but there’s no one around - or at least that’s what he’d swear, until he hears a [i]pop[/i] and runs directly into someone who lets out the most pitiful squeak he’s ever heard as he tumbles to the ground.
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[font=constantia]”Oh no! Are you okay?” Zeshau asks. He gingerly nudges the sprawled demon, and he looks up at him with wide eyes that drip a dark ichor much like Kraar’s.
“Ow,” he says, with a sad pout. Little fangs peek over his lips, and he uses a delicate hand to brush a fluffy curl of pale hair out of his eyes. His dark skin is streaked with pale veins of white, giving it an oddly beautiful marbled effect. Zeshau carefully takes him by the waist - so small his hands overlap around it - and sets him on his dainty paws.
“I’m sorry about that. Where did you even come from, little one?” Zeshau asks. He’d swear the demon had appeared between one second and the next.
“Through a portal,” the demon sighs. “[i]So[/i] annoying. I don’t even know where I am.”
“Oh! That’s easy. You’re in the Demon Domain. You’re a demon right?”
The demon squints at him through dripping ichor. “But [i]you’re[/i] not a demon!”
“No, I’m just visiting,” Zeshau laughs. The little demon opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else a portal opens beneath him and he vanishes.
“Uh… good luck!” Zeshau calls in the direction of the portal. What an odd little fellow! But very cute. Maybe one of the lesser demons Kriik talks about? He steps carefully around the place the portal had appeared as he continues on his way.
For a while he walks uninterrupted, the working of his muscles warming him. Time is hard to judge here, but he feels he hasn’t really been going long enough to be [i]quite[/i] as warm as he is, heat prickling beneath his fur. Wait - not just beneath his fur. There’s a telling shimmer in the air, like there is in a boiling hot summer. He squints in that direction just in time to see some of the grasses burst into sudden flame, a demon appearing behind them.
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[font=constantia]He laughs at Zeshau’s startled yelp, flicking a tail that drips and glows like lava carelessly behind him and setting a few more patches of grass ablaze. Despite the heat they seem to burn out rather quickly, the demon’s presence starting the fires but apparently not sustaining them. “We don’t get many visitors here, so I thought I’d take a look,” the demon says.
The curl of his smile reminds Zeshau of the Lady of Fire in his own realm, and he pulls his tail closer around him. Nothing against them, but he’s found his fur and flames don’t tend to mix. He still smiles back. “I’m Zeshau. And yes, I’m visiting! Though I might be lost… people keep saying Kriik is this way but I haven’t found them yet.”
“I’m Yolo,” the demon replies, and hums to himself. “I’m a guard, not a guide… but Kriik might be pleased if I help you.” He waves a careless hand, scattering sparks. “That way. And you are pretty close.”
“Thanks, Yolo!” Zeshau says, delighted. Once away from the demon’s heat, he settles into a quick lope, heartened by the thought of seeing Kriik soon. The light around him has faded to a dusky purple, whether from his location or from the passage of time he can’t tell. Still, he can’t help but be curious when he sees an odd gleam of gold in the gathering dimness.
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[font=constantia]The distant glimmer resolves into neat interlocking circles, suns and starbursts and odd runes he can’t comprehend. And at their heart, a demon - hulking, with heavy curved horns that put his own antlers to shame. “Are you here to make a pact?” they ask, a note of confusion in their voice. He guesses that most people pacting with demons are contacted in the mortal world, not generally coming to the demons themselves.
“Uh… no,” Zeshau says. “Just thought the lights were pretty.” He beams, and the demon looks even more confused.
“They are pact magic,” they say, and with a tilt of their head send the runes shimmering again.
“[i]And[/i] they’re really pretty!” Zeshau says. At their look, he decides he should probably get a move on before he confuses them any more.
He thinks he heads back in the right direction, but the longer he walks the less certain he is. Yolo had said Kriik was close, but there’s still no sign of them…
Zeshau does, however, spot another bright glimmer of light. Perhaps that pact demon? And maybe they’d be able to direct him the right way again. But as he approaches, the glitter resolves into a much smaller shape, round eyes blinking at him from a delicate face.
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[font=constantia]”Hello!” Zeshau calls anyway - maybe they can still help him! Their inquisitive expression brightens immediately, and they flit over to him. “Can you help me find -“
“Absolutely I can! Would you like to see the top ten most amazing places to visit in the Demon Domain?”
Zeshau laughs. With their slight frame and the excited way their antennae twitch as they speak, they remind him of the very youngest fey. “No, actually, I’m looking for -“
“The most shocking secret desire of every demon?” they interrupt. “The five fastest ways to make your demon melt?” With each suggestion they come closer and closer, something about the intensity behind their words making Zeshau nervous despite the fact that he could probably crush them under a single paw.
“Oh no you don’t, Lozaan,” a familiar voice growls, and Zeshau can’t hold back an immediate grin. [i]Kriik![/i]
“Uh oh,” the little demon - Lozaan - chirps, and promptly darts away.
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[font=constantia]”Kriik! I found you!” Zeshau crows, and tackles them with a hug. Their familiar scent surrounds him - sharp like ozone, but comforting - and he nuzzles against the bright cyan markings that bridge their nose.
“No, I found [i]you[/i],” Kriik corrects, but they don’t sound too put out about it. sliding their own arms around him to squeeze back.
“Either way,” Zeshau shrugs. “I’ve been all over looking for you! And I met everyone!”
Kriik snorts softly, their version of a laugh. “Everyone, huh?”
“And some of them were [i]way[/i] scarier than you said,” Zeshau continues, thinking of that icy boss lady that Kraar had reported to with a shiver. “You must be the strongest, bravest, most [i]amazing[/i] demon to live with them all the time!”
A soft crackle of pink-toned lightning shimmers over Kriik’s cheeks. “Well. If you say so.”
“Of course I do!” Zeshau purrs, and rests his cheek against Kriik’s, content at having found the very best demon at last.
@
NirnrootNoises Ze had a great time exploring the Demon Domain! And uh… it got away from me a bit… whoops.
Zeshau flashes an anticipatory smile full of fangs as he bounds through a portal into the Demon Domain. His tail whips behind him in his excitement - finally he has a chance to see where Kriik came from, and meet some of the demons they mention! Kriik’s descriptions tend to be brief and to the point, but even those bare details are so different from the fey Zeshau is familiar with.
His first steps take him into a forest much like any other, except for the trees that soar high into the sky above. The trunks vanish into darkness before he can see the canopy, but somehow there’s light enough to see by. The place is silent but for a distant crackle - perhaps brush and leaves underfoot?
Zeshau launches himself toward the sound, bursting into a clearing and startling a noise from a fluffy, hulking shape on the other side.
Immediately they growl in warning, teeth bared as one clawed paw cradles a spot in their mane. Despite their aggressive stance, Zeshau can’t hold back his grin. An actual demon! And he found them so quickly, too!
“It’s alright!” Zeshau calls, raising his own hands pacifyingly. At his voice a tiny head pokes from behind the demon’s protective claws, and Zeshau feels a shiver of recognition - fey, but not of his court.
“Muf, calm down,” the other fey says, petting a soothing hand through the demon’s ruff. “It’s okay, he’s fey. And friendly,” he adds, when Muf seems unconvinced.
Zeshau smiles bigger and waves to reinforce the words, tail swishing excitedly behind him. “I am friendly! I am Zeshau, Lord of Beasts, and I am simply here to explore and meet as many demons as I can!” He can take a closer look now that Muf is starting to calm, ruffled fur settling back into order, warmth returning to his soft brown eyes. “That was incredible, by the way! Such quick reactions, and so protective!”
“That’s my Muf, Lord Zeshau,” the little fey preens, hugging his fur and pressing a quick kiss to a fluffy ear. “He takes very good care of me.” Muf ducks his head, obviously pleased. Zeshau’s own heart warms, delighted to see another example of a strong fey/demon partnership.
“Perhaps the two of you can help me,” Zeshau says brightly. “Where might I head to see even more lovely demons?”
The little fey giggles and whispers in Muf’s ear; the demon blinks and casts a doubtful look towards his partner. “I don’t know if she’d be bothered…”
Zeshau lasts a few seconds before the curiosity is unbearable. “Who’s ‘she’?”
“You’ll see,” the little fey says cryptically, before he points the way through the trees. Zeshau bounds onwards, tail swishing a farewell to the pair.
The trees in this direction grow even thicker and taller, broad trunks soaring skyward and vanishing into darkness. Something about the still quiet around him makes Zeshau slow, peering between the mossy trees before him. The roots are thick, curving above the ground like claws to leave shadowy hollows beneath. He blinks. No - not like claws. They are claws.
”Hello?” he calls. If those tree roots are claws… the trunks legs… then the face must be… he cranes his head, and meets two glowing eyes high above him. Wow. He isn’t small by any measure, but he’s utterly dwarfed by her - he assumes this must be the her the fey had spoken of.
“HELLO,” a booming rumble of a voice echoes him. Those luminous eyes sink down towards him, their glow illuminating a furred face surrounded by craggy antlers. She could be part of the forest, perhaps is a part of it, with her mottled fur like mossy bark, her antlers like knotted branches. “WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE?”
“I am Zeshau, Lord of Beasts of the Fey Court,” he answers, something about her urging him towards formality. At his words there’s a hushed murmuring - coming from her, though her great mouth doesn’t move - and then a multitude of smaller eyes blink from the darkness of her mane. “I’m looking for demons to meet!”
“I AM KRUZIIK.” A pause. “YOU SEEK… A MATE?” The other voices pick up, a soft undercurrent of excitement.
“Oh,” Zeshau laughs sheepishly. “No, I have a mate. They’re wonderful… though I might need some help finding them here, it’s my first time in the Demon Domain. They’re a hellhound!”
The murmurings have a sulky disinterest now, many of them blinking out, disappearing into Kruziik’s mane. “THAT WAY,” Kruziik says, dispassionate, raising a mighty claw to point.
“Thank you!” Zeshau calls up. “May I visit again? Perhaps with fey of my court who do seek mates?”
He can almost imagine those glowing eyes softening a bit. “YES.”
The further he walks from Kruziik, the more the forest changes - darkness receding, trees thinning out around him. Eventually he reaches grassier ground, a few flowers dotted here and there. A bright spot in the distance catches his eye - he bounds forward, though he slows as he gets closer. The brightness is a lush assortment of flowers, beautifully arranged in front of a worn stone, simply carved with a name.
“Don’t touch.”
Zeshau starts, whirling around. He isn’t sure how the hulking creature behind him approached so quietly, and he bristles automatically at the sight of them - their fur rent with the scars of many harsh battles, their claws long and ragged, and their face - a skull, its empty eyes blazing with fire. Still, after a long moment where they regard each other, Zeshau relaxes. They don’t feel threatening, just… sad.
He draws back from the gravestone. “I’m sorry. Were they… did you know them?”
The demon sighs, a long, weary rattle. “No… but someone should look after them all the same.” They reach down one of those ragged claws, adjusting one of the flowers with surprising delicacy.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Zeshau says softly, but gives a brief nuzzle against the rough fur of the demon’s shoulder before he goes.
He spots a six-legged shape loping in the distance, his pace picking up in excitement. “Kriik?” he calls.
Their head whips around, black ichor splattering the ground. “Do I look like Kriik?” they snarl. Not Kriik, but a familiar face nonetheless.
“I mean… kind of?” Zeshau frowns, considering. “With all the legs, and dark purple-y colors… sorry Kraar.” He supposes the smoky aura around Kraar should’ve given him away, his seeping darkness nothing like the bright neons of his own beloved hellhound.
Kraar grunts a grudging acknowledgement and keeps walking, Zeshau falling into step beside him. After a few moments Kraar seems to realize the oddness of finding him here, squinting over at him. “What are you doing in the Domain?”
“Visiting Kriik,” Zeshau says brightly. “Or trying to anyway. Mostly just meeting demons… Wait, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Zaprah?”
“I do have to report in occasionally,” Kraar says.
“Report? To who?”
“Kraar, you’re late.”
An icy chill runs over Zeshau’s fur, and he blinks at the demon before them. She stands tall - though not as tall as Zeshau himself - though she doesn’t need height for her imperious presence to make itself known.
“I was waylaid,” Kraar says, a wry growl. Zeshau gives her a sheepish grin, waving to admit his part in Kraar’s tardiness. It falters a bit under her cool glare, but he doggedly keeps it up as best he can.
“No excuses,” she says. “You’re fey, aren’t you?”
“Yes ma’am,” Zeshau says, “Lord of Beasts.”
“Was there something you needed, Lord of Beasts, or were you simply amusing yourself by interfering in demonic business?”
Zeshau’s tail curls between his legs automatically. Kraar, from what he can catch in his peripheral vision, looks beyond amused. “Looking for my - a hellhound. Named Kriik.”
She arches an eyebrow and points. “Go on then.”
“Yes ma’am! Right away ma’am! Bye Kraar!” He promptly sprints off. He’s hardly looking where he’s going, but there’s no one around - or at least that’s what he’d swear, until he hears a pop and runs directly into someone who lets out the most pitiful squeak he’s ever heard as he tumbles to the ground.
”Oh no! Are you okay?” Zeshau asks. He gingerly nudges the sprawled demon, and he looks up at him with wide eyes that drip a dark ichor much like Kraar’s.
“Ow,” he says, with a sad pout. Little fangs peek over his lips, and he uses a delicate hand to brush a fluffy curl of pale hair out of his eyes. His dark skin is streaked with pale veins of white, giving it an oddly beautiful marbled effect. Zeshau carefully takes him by the waist - so small his hands overlap around it - and sets him on his dainty paws.
“I’m sorry about that. Where did you even come from, little one?” Zeshau asks. He’d swear the demon had appeared between one second and the next.
“Through a portal,” the demon sighs. “So annoying. I don’t even know where I am.”
“Oh! That’s easy. You’re in the Demon Domain. You’re a demon right?”
The demon squints at him through dripping ichor. “But you’re not a demon!”
“No, I’m just visiting,” Zeshau laughs. The little demon opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else a portal opens beneath him and he vanishes.
“Uh… good luck!” Zeshau calls in the direction of the portal. What an odd little fellow! But very cute. Maybe one of the lesser demons Kriik talks about? He steps carefully around the place the portal had appeared as he continues on his way.
For a while he walks uninterrupted, the working of his muscles warming him. Time is hard to judge here, but he feels he hasn’t really been going long enough to be quite as warm as he is, heat prickling beneath his fur. Wait - not just beneath his fur. There’s a telling shimmer in the air, like there is in a boiling hot summer. He squints in that direction just in time to see some of the grasses burst into sudden flame, a demon appearing behind them.
He laughs at Zeshau’s startled yelp, flicking a tail that drips and glows like lava carelessly behind him and setting a few more patches of grass ablaze. Despite the heat they seem to burn out rather quickly, the demon’s presence starting the fires but apparently not sustaining them. “We don’t get many visitors here, so I thought I’d take a look,” the demon says.
The curl of his smile reminds Zeshau of the Lady of Fire in his own realm, and he pulls his tail closer around him. Nothing against them, but he’s found his fur and flames don’t tend to mix. He still smiles back. “I’m Zeshau. And yes, I’m visiting! Though I might be lost… people keep saying Kriik is this way but I haven’t found them yet.”
“I’m Yolo,” the demon replies, and hums to himself. “I’m a guard, not a guide… but Kriik might be pleased if I help you.” He waves a careless hand, scattering sparks. “That way. And you are pretty close.”
“Thanks, Yolo!” Zeshau says, delighted. Once away from the demon’s heat, he settles into a quick lope, heartened by the thought of seeing Kriik soon. The light around him has faded to a dusky purple, whether from his location or from the passage of time he can’t tell. Still, he can’t help but be curious when he sees an odd gleam of gold in the gathering dimness.
The distant glimmer resolves into neat interlocking circles, suns and starbursts and odd runes he can’t comprehend. And at their heart, a demon - hulking, with heavy curved horns that put his own antlers to shame. “Are you here to make a pact?” they ask, a note of confusion in their voice. He guesses that most people pacting with demons are contacted in the mortal world, not generally coming to the demons themselves.
“Uh… no,” Zeshau says. “Just thought the lights were pretty.” He beams, and the demon looks even more confused.
“They are pact magic,” they say, and with a tilt of their head send the runes shimmering again.
“And they’re really pretty!” Zeshau says. At their look, he decides he should probably get a move on before he confuses them any more.
He thinks he heads back in the right direction, but the longer he walks the less certain he is. Yolo had said Kriik was close, but there’s still no sign of them…
Zeshau does, however, spot another bright glimmer of light. Perhaps that pact demon? And maybe they’d be able to direct him the right way again. But as he approaches, the glitter resolves into a much smaller shape, round eyes blinking at him from a delicate face.
”Hello!” Zeshau calls anyway - maybe they can still help him! Their inquisitive expression brightens immediately, and they flit over to him. “Can you help me find -“
“Absolutely I can! Would you like to see the top ten most amazing places to visit in the Demon Domain?”
Zeshau laughs. With their slight frame and the excited way their antennae twitch as they speak, they remind him of the very youngest fey. “No, actually, I’m looking for -“
“The most shocking secret desire of every demon?” they interrupt. “The five fastest ways to make your demon melt?” With each suggestion they come closer and closer, something about the intensity behind their words making Zeshau nervous despite the fact that he could probably crush them under a single paw.
“Oh no you don’t, Lozaan,” a familiar voice growls, and Zeshau can’t hold back an immediate grin. Kriik!
“Uh oh,” the little demon - Lozaan - chirps, and promptly darts away.
”Kriik! I found you!” Zeshau crows, and tackles them with a hug. Their familiar scent surrounds him - sharp like ozone, but comforting - and he nuzzles against the bright cyan markings that bridge their nose.
“No, I found you,” Kriik corrects, but they don’t sound too put out about it. sliding their own arms around him to squeeze back.
“Either way,” Zeshau shrugs. “I’ve been all over looking for you! And I met everyone!”
Kriik snorts softly, their version of a laugh. “Everyone, huh?”
“And some of them were way scarier than you said,” Zeshau continues, thinking of that icy boss lady that Kraar had reported to with a shiver. “You must be the strongest, bravest, most amazing demon to live with them all the time!”
A soft crackle of pink-toned lightning shimmers over Kriik’s cheeks. “Well. If you say so.”
“Of course I do!” Zeshau purrs, and rests his cheek against Kriik’s, content at having found the very best demon at last.
