[font=Century Gothic][size=5][color=55422f]update[/font]
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[font=Century][size=4]S[/size]ince I have accrued a few dragons and haven't updated in awhile, I'm going to chug along as if certain developments haven't occurred in story yet. So for the purposes of storytelling, the two banescale dragons I hatched don't yet exist, and Isaac is still a guardian.
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update
Since I have accrued a few dragons and haven't updated in awhile, I'm going to chug along as if certain developments haven't occurred in story yet. So for the purposes of storytelling, the two banescale dragons I hatched don't yet exist, and Isaac is still a guardian.
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[font=Century]F[size=2]ire[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]W[/size]hen the banescale took to the sky, it was chaos. Arven kept strict watch over his charges, and in all his fury even Marley stayed indoors. Slania and Taz, still unsure of their place in the palace, clung together in the shadows and watched Arven flutter around the many rooms, magic pooling in his claws as he warded the building.
“Is it truly cause for concern?” Aibek asked, head tilted. His ears were pressed to his head, tail flicking in nervousness. Isaac hovered just to his side, overshadowing the smaller tundra and looking uncharacteristically serious.
Yes, he wanted to say, because if Arven—powerful, resolute, Arven—was fearful, then surely they all should be?
Marley had firmly planted herself by the largest window, wings tucked close to her side with a perfect view of the storming skies. Her eyes were wide, all four of them, and she was staring with such intensity outside. She was humming a tune no one recognized, and the sound of it sent shivers down Aibek’s spine.
“They’re old.” Arven had paused to rest, looking tired. (Had Isaac every seen him so weary?) His mane hung like liquid down his face and he looked at Aibek with white eyes shining through his mask. “Older than many. You know of the gaolers?”
It was a story Arven had told them forever ago, when they were young. Ancient dragons, the first children of the old god, the Icewarden, rising from the permafrost and retaking their place in the world. The gaolers were an incredibly old species, and many of the dragons themselves had lived for years and years hidden away in the Icewarden’s prisons. They were protectors and guards, and they were fiercer than any currently living breed. Until…
“They are similar. Old, experienced. Almost forgotten, and almost killed. A gaoler had told me what they’d done all those years ago.” Arven failed to elaborate, and he turned to look at the windows. “The gaolers are wardens, and if they say that banescale are vicious, then it must be so. I will keep us safe.”
Then they came. They were like bats in the night, too quick to catch all of the time. They flew in seemingly random directions, but they all came in from the north.
Marley continued to hum, and it was a moment before they realized she was quietly murmuring words to herself. “If you should fly free, remember our song,” she sang quietly, watching as two banescale separated from the flock. “Fly far and fly wide to see the next dawn.” The two dragons, hardly larger than Marley herself, hooked and flew down towards the palace. “Learn from our failure and join with the world.” Their horns curled up from their heads, mist pouring away from one and the other dark enough to match the night. “Our future, our Flame, flies with you unfurled!”
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When the banescale took to the sky, it was chaos. Arven kept strict watch over his charges, and in all his fury even Marley stayed indoors. Slania and Taz, still unsure of their place in the palace, clung together in the shadows and watched Arven flutter around the many rooms, magic pooling in his claws as he warded the building.
“Is it truly cause for concern?” Aibek asked, head tilted. His ears were pressed to his head, tail flicking in nervousness. Isaac hovered just to his side, overshadowing the smaller tundra and looking uncharacteristically serious.
Yes, he wanted to say, because if Arven—powerful, resolute, Arven—was fearful, then surely they all should be?
Marley had firmly planted herself by the largest window, wings tucked close to her side with a perfect view of the storming skies. Her eyes were wide, all four of them, and she was staring with such intensity outside. She was humming a tune no one recognized, and the sound of it sent shivers down Aibek’s spine.
“They’re old.” Arven had paused to rest, looking tired. (Had Isaac every seen him so weary?) His mane hung like liquid down his face and he looked at Aibek with white eyes shining through his mask. “Older than many. You know of the gaolers?”
It was a story Arven had told them forever ago, when they were young. Ancient dragons, the first children of the old god, the Icewarden, rising from the permafrost and retaking their place in the world. The gaolers were an incredibly old species, and many of the dragons themselves had lived for years and years hidden away in the Icewarden’s prisons. They were protectors and guards, and they were fiercer than any currently living breed. Until…
“They are similar. Old, experienced. Almost forgotten, and almost killed. A gaoler had told me what they’d done all those years ago.” Arven failed to elaborate, and he turned to look at the windows. “The gaolers are wardens, and if they say that banescale are vicious, then it must be so. I will keep us safe.”
Then they came. They were like bats in the night, too quick to catch all of the time. They flew in seemingly random directions, but they all came in from the north.
Marley continued to hum, and it was a moment before they realized she was quietly murmuring words to herself. “If you should fly free, remember our song,” she sang quietly, watching as two banescale separated from the flock. “Fly far and fly wide to see the next dawn.” The two dragons, hardly larger than Marley herself, hooked and flew down towards the palace. “Learn from our failure and join with the world.” Their horns curled up from their heads, mist pouring away from one and the other dark enough to match the night. “Our future, our Flame, flies with you unfurled!”
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[font=Century]L[size=2]ifetimes[/size]
[size=1][size=1]@Bebblesnipe[/size][/right]
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[font=Century][size=4]T[/size]hey stayed. Two of them. One was a startling blue, mist pouring from her scales and seeping out of her mouth like liquid air. The other was ferocious and looked it. Her scales were red as fresh blood, with deep purple fins trailing down her spine. They introduced themselves as Asena and Akane.
Arven was wary of them and unhappy with their presence in his palace. But they were hard workers and intelligent dragons, and the strange songs they sung entertained Marley.
It took a few days for everyone to grow accustomed to their presence, and even longer for things to return to something akin to normal. One of those days, Isaac stood watching them from within the gardens, where the two banescale were lounging and chatting. The blue one caught his gaze and smiled warmly at him.
“Did you need something, Isaac?” The way she said his name made him uncomfortable.
“No.” He said it quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, and then frowned at himself. In truth, he didn’t want to talk to them, but he also didn’t want to leave them yet. He was keen on keeping an eye on them. Reluctantly, he came closer. “May I join you?”
“Of course.”
Steadily, Isaac settled beside them. He was much larger than either of the banescale, but he still felt like they would have the advantage in a fight.
“You do not often speak with us, Isaac.” This time Akane spoke, the quieter of the two. She looked at him with unblinking eyes, head tilting slightly to the side. “What has changed?”
A beat of silence. “Curiosity.” It wasn’t a lie, but it certainly wasn’t a good answer. Akane accepted it willingly, though. The two waited, expecting him to continue, so he did. “You don’t talk about before you arrived here. Or your plans for the future.”
Asena and Akane exchanged a look. “There isn’t much to say,” Asena admitted, although her face had taken on a shuttered look. She was hiding something. “What has your leader told you about us?”
Arven was certainly a leader, but it tightened a knot in Isaac’s chest. “Very little. He told us you are like the gaolers, especially in age.”
His words made Akane frown, and the red banescale looked momentarily annoyed. She looked away. Asena answered again, seemingly thoughtful.
“He wouldn’t be wrong, but to say we are like the gaolers is to say that you are like…Arven.” She smiled when Isaac flinched, but it wasn’t a malicious gesture. “There are many differences between our species. Our only similarity is our loyalty to the god who created us and our breeds ancient lifespan.”
“You come from the Flamewarden, yes?” Isaac was interested in this, having heard little of the fiery goddess of molten scales and flaming feathers. “Have you met a coatl? You are like cousins, in a way.”
“We flew here right from the Ashfall Waste.” Akane looked back, face blank.
A few seconds ticked by in silence, and then Isaac reeled back. “You flew across the sea?!” he nearly shouted. “Without break?”
Asena grinned. “Yes,” she answered with a laugh. “We are very good with long flights.”
“But why? Why here?”
The two banescale exchanged a look again, but this time they held each others gaze. “To answer a song.”
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They stayed. Two of them. One was a startling blue, mist pouring from her scales and seeping out of her mouth like liquid air. The other was ferocious and looked it. Her scales were red as fresh blood, with deep purple fins trailing down her spine. They introduced themselves as Asena and Akane.
Arven was wary of them and unhappy with their presence in his palace. But they were hard workers and intelligent dragons, and the strange songs they sung entertained Marley.
It took a few days for everyone to grow accustomed to their presence, and even longer for things to return to something akin to normal. One of those days, Isaac stood watching them from within the gardens, where the two banescale were lounging and chatting. The blue one caught his gaze and smiled warmly at him.
“Did you need something, Isaac?” The way she said his name made him uncomfortable.
“No.” He said it quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, and then frowned at himself. In truth, he didn’t want to talk to them, but he also didn’t want to leave them yet. He was keen on keeping an eye on them. Reluctantly, he came closer. “May I join you?”
“Of course.”
Steadily, Isaac settled beside them. He was much larger than either of the banescale, but he still felt like they would have the advantage in a fight.
“You do not often speak with us, Isaac.” This time Akane spoke, the quieter of the two. She looked at him with unblinking eyes, head tilting slightly to the side. “What has changed?”
A beat of silence. “Curiosity.” It wasn’t a lie, but it certainly wasn’t a good answer. Akane accepted it willingly, though. The two waited, expecting him to continue, so he did. “You don’t talk about before you arrived here. Or your plans for the future.”
Asena and Akane exchanged a look. “There isn’t much to say,” Asena admitted, although her face had taken on a shuttered look. She was hiding something. “What has your leader told you about us?”
Arven was certainly a leader, but it tightened a knot in Isaac’s chest. “Very little. He told us you are like the gaolers, especially in age.”
His words made Akane frown, and the red banescale looked momentarily annoyed. She looked away. Asena answered again, seemingly thoughtful.
“He wouldn’t be wrong, but to say we are like the gaolers is to say that you are like…Arven.” She smiled when Isaac flinched, but it wasn’t a malicious gesture. “There are many differences between our species. Our only similarity is our loyalty to the god who created us and our breeds ancient lifespan.”
“You come from the Flamewarden, yes?” Isaac was interested in this, having heard little of the fiery goddess of molten scales and flaming feathers. “Have you met a coatl? You are like cousins, in a way.”
“We flew here right from the Ashfall Waste.” Akane looked back, face blank.
A few seconds ticked by in silence, and then Isaac reeled back. “You flew across the sea?!” he nearly shouted. “Without break?”
Asena grinned. “Yes,” she answered with a laugh. “We are very good with long flights.”
“But why? Why here?”
The two banescale exchanged a look again, but this time they held each others gaze. “To answer a song.”
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[font=Century]S[size=2]orrow Song[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]T[/size]he bogsneak found the kingdom, and on his back he bore two eggs. One crackled with electricity, and the very air around it seemed to hum with life. The other almost [i]was[/i] life, a buzzing shell of wood and vines ready to bloom. Both were cinched tight to the bogsneak’s scales, his weary green eyes squinting blearily at Isaac and Caelum from where they watched him.
“Speak your name,” Isaac called out, shuffling his feet in the snow. He was cold and tired himself, but Arven had bustled him out of bed and down the road anyway. Caelum, dripping black goo just beside, had already been awake, and had indeed never slept to begin with.
“And your intentions.” Caelum’s voice was deep and toneless, offering little room for kindness.
The bogsneak flicked his gaze between them. “My name is Ambrose,” he said, his voice raw and pained. “I’ve traveled far and seek a place to sleep. The nights grow cold around here, and these eggs can’t take much more of it.”
Isaac felt a pinch of pity. Caelum opened his mouth to speak (to no doubt turn them away), but Isaac leapt back into the conversation. “Come along, then. There’s plenty of rooms in the castle for you, but don’t expect very much hospitality. We’re unpleasant company.”
Ambrose furrowed his brow at Isaac. “As you say.” He shuffled his wings and tightened a strap on his left side before nodding to the pair. “Lead on, and quickly if you please. They grow colder by the minute.”
Isaac didn’t meet Caelum’s gaze as he turned and led the way back toward the palace, trudging along through the path Caelum himself had forged through the otherwise untouched snow. The cold nipped at his ankles and dampened his fur, but he did his best to ignore it.
They did not stop even after entering the palace, pausing only a moment to shake the snow out of every crevice in their scales. Caelum swiftly departed, no doubt to tattle to Arven about what Isaac had done, and left Isaac to lead the weighed down bogsneak up the stairs and to one of the many empty rooms.
“Could I carry one of those for you?” Isaac asked as they approached the stairway.
“No.” Ambrose’s tone was stiff, tense, and so Isaac didn’t press. They lapsed into silence, the only sound their nails scraping against the wooden steps.
The room was small but clean, as Caelum spent his mornings tidying up the palace. Ambrose entered only a foot into the room, sweeping his gaze around. There was a moments silence, and then he turned to Isaac and dipped his head. “Thank you,” he said.
“Certainly.” Isaac looked to the eggs again, curious but not enough to spend time with questions and conversation. “Sleep well.” He dipped his head in farewell and turned from the room, the door closing softly behind him.
He didn’t need to look to know Arven was there.
“We will speak in the morning,” Arven had said then, voice as cold as the air he carried with him. Isaac didn’t doubt it for a moment.
Clearing his throat, Isaac turned down the hall. “Good night, Arven.”
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The bogsneak found the kingdom, and on his back he bore two eggs. One crackled with electricity, and the very air around it seemed to hum with life. The other almost was life, a buzzing shell of wood and vines ready to bloom. Both were cinched tight to the bogsneak’s scales, his weary green eyes squinting blearily at Isaac and Caelum from where they watched him.
“Speak your name,” Isaac called out, shuffling his feet in the snow. He was cold and tired himself, but Arven had bustled him out of bed and down the road anyway. Caelum, dripping black goo just beside, had already been awake, and had indeed never slept to begin with.
“And your intentions.” Caelum’s voice was deep and toneless, offering little room for kindness.
The bogsneak flicked his gaze between them. “My name is Ambrose,” he said, his voice raw and pained. “I’ve traveled far and seek a place to sleep. The nights grow cold around here, and these eggs can’t take much more of it.”
Isaac felt a pinch of pity. Caelum opened his mouth to speak (to no doubt turn them away), but Isaac leapt back into the conversation. “Come along, then. There’s plenty of rooms in the castle for you, but don’t expect very much hospitality. We’re unpleasant company.”
Ambrose furrowed his brow at Isaac. “As you say.” He shuffled his wings and tightened a strap on his left side before nodding to the pair. “Lead on, and quickly if you please. They grow colder by the minute.”
Isaac didn’t meet Caelum’s gaze as he turned and led the way back toward the palace, trudging along through the path Caelum himself had forged through the otherwise untouched snow. The cold nipped at his ankles and dampened his fur, but he did his best to ignore it.
They did not stop even after entering the palace, pausing only a moment to shake the snow out of every crevice in their scales. Caelum swiftly departed, no doubt to tattle to Arven about what Isaac had done, and left Isaac to lead the weighed down bogsneak up the stairs and to one of the many empty rooms.
“Could I carry one of those for you?” Isaac asked as they approached the stairway.
“No.” Ambrose’s tone was stiff, tense, and so Isaac didn’t press. They lapsed into silence, the only sound their nails scraping against the wooden steps.
The room was small but clean, as Caelum spent his mornings tidying up the palace. Ambrose entered only a foot into the room, sweeping his gaze around. There was a moments silence, and then he turned to Isaac and dipped his head. “Thank you,” he said.
“Certainly.” Isaac looked to the eggs again, curious but not enough to spend time with questions and conversation. “Sleep well.” He dipped his head in farewell and turned from the room, the door closing softly behind him.
He didn’t need to look to know Arven was there.
“We will speak in the morning,” Arven had said then, voice as cold as the air he carried with him. Isaac didn’t doubt it for a moment.
Clearing his throat, Isaac turned down the hall. “Good night, Arven.”
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[font=Century][size=4]T[/size]he bogsneak—Aibek reminded himself again to use his name—was staying in one of the guest rooms. It was a funny saying, and he felt ridiculous saying it, because the palace was empty. Just about every room was a guest room, devoid of any actual guests. Isaac had shown him which one the stranger was in, and Aibek had spent the morning finding little reasons to go wandering past the hallway, eyes flicking over to see any sign of movement, but the door always remained closed.
It was a difficult thing to explain his curiosity. At that point, they’d acquired quite the unusual assortment of dragons, and so his desire for anymore strangeness should have been sated. Perhaps it was because—this time—the visitor brought eggs into the palace. Aibek hadn’t seen an egg since that day Isaac had hatched alongside him, and that memory had been erased by the endless passage of time.
Isaac, always attuned to Aibek’s every change of mood, swatted him with the large end of his tail. “Stop overthinking,” he’d told him then. “Ambrose will come out when he’s ready.”
“It’s rude to ignore us all day every day,” Aibek had argued, going (as always) to immediate defensiveness.
“He’s not ignoring [i]us[/i],” Isaac said simply. “I talk to him every morning.”
And this seemed true enough. While the hallways were still filtered with the orange light of dawn, Aibek often saw Isaac making his way either to or from Ambrose’s room, often laden with food or odd supplies. A blanket once, woolen and thick, or a sewing kit, or even a long stretch of rope on one odd day.
It was in Aibek’s nature to be curious, but it wasn’t in his nature to express that curiosity to Isaac. He could tell his lifelong friend knew how curious he was, and Aibek refused to give him the satisfaction of digging for information. Especially not when Isaac caught Aibek peering around the corners of walls and looked at him with that amused smile of his.
But in all is peering, Aibek saw many things. Although his own curiosity was light and genuine, he often felt a chill in the air that preceded Arven, and knew well enough to duck out of the way when the icy fae came floating down the hall.
Arven never entered Ambrose’s chambers, but almost nightly he stopped outside the door and spoke quietly towards it—too quiet for Aibek to possibly hear. His fans remained rigid and impassive, betraying nothing, and he stood just before the door in a position that obstructed his face from Aibek. Aibek wondered if Arven knew he was watching, but he humored himself as the stealthy sort.
And, one night long after the palace had grown hushed in sleep, Arven made his nightly return to the door. This time, however, he stood just to the right of where he normally did, enough so that Aibek couldn’t mistake the familiar sight of ice magic as Arven froze the door sealed.
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The bogsneak—Aibek reminded himself again to use his name—was staying in one of the guest rooms. It was a funny saying, and he felt ridiculous saying it, because the palace was empty. Just about every room was a guest room, devoid of any actual guests. Isaac had shown him which one the stranger was in, and Aibek had spent the morning finding little reasons to go wandering past the hallway, eyes flicking over to see any sign of movement, but the door always remained closed.
It was a difficult thing to explain his curiosity. At that point, they’d acquired quite the unusual assortment of dragons, and so his desire for anymore strangeness should have been sated. Perhaps it was because—this time—the visitor brought eggs into the palace. Aibek hadn’t seen an egg since that day Isaac had hatched alongside him, and that memory had been erased by the endless passage of time.
Isaac, always attuned to Aibek’s every change of mood, swatted him with the large end of his tail. “Stop overthinking,” he’d told him then. “Ambrose will come out when he’s ready.”
“It’s rude to ignore us all day every day,” Aibek had argued, going (as always) to immediate defensiveness.
“He’s not ignoring us,” Isaac said simply. “I talk to him every morning.”
And this seemed true enough. While the hallways were still filtered with the orange light of dawn, Aibek often saw Isaac making his way either to or from Ambrose’s room, often laden with food or odd supplies. A blanket once, woolen and thick, or a sewing kit, or even a long stretch of rope on one odd day.
It was in Aibek’s nature to be curious, but it wasn’t in his nature to express that curiosity to Isaac. He could tell his lifelong friend knew how curious he was, and Aibek refused to give him the satisfaction of digging for information. Especially not when Isaac caught Aibek peering around the corners of walls and looked at him with that amused smile of his.
But in all is peering, Aibek saw many things. Although his own curiosity was light and genuine, he often felt a chill in the air that preceded Arven, and knew well enough to duck out of the way when the icy fae came floating down the hall.
Arven never entered Ambrose’s chambers, but almost nightly he stopped outside the door and spoke quietly towards it—too quiet for Aibek to possibly hear. His fans remained rigid and impassive, betraying nothing, and he stood just before the door in a position that obstructed his face from Aibek. Aibek wondered if Arven knew he was watching, but he humored himself as the stealthy sort.
And, one night long after the palace had grown hushed in sleep, Arven made his nightly return to the door. This time, however, he stood just to the right of where he normally did, enough so that Aibek couldn’t mistake the familiar sight of ice magic as Arven froze the door sealed.
[font=Century Gothic][size=5][color=55422f]update[/font]
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[font=Century][size=4]I[/size]'m sure no one other than me will notice, but I've flip flopped around the index/character post [s]for the second time, actually[/s] and if that throws anyone off, sorry. It's mostly for my own benefit, but it just seems easier functionally so one doesn't have to scroll so far to see the index. Especially as my character list grows!
[s]One day I'll actually go into the coli, but until then each and every dragon will remain alive and safe.[/s]
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update
I'm sure no one other than me will notice, but I've flip flopped around the index/character post for the second time, actually and if that throws anyone off, sorry. It's mostly for my own benefit, but it just seems easier functionally so one doesn't have to scroll so far to see the index. Especially as my character list grows!
One day I'll actually go into the coli, but until then each and every dragon will remain alive and safe.
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[font=Century]D[size=2]reamer[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]M[/size]arley knew a lot of things. Most would argue that, in knowing, she had an advantage over all others, but that simply wasn’t true. Perhaps another dragon would, but Marley couldn’t wrestle forth any sort of interest in the things Ourakles showed her. The Saint ushered her into engagement only when he absolutely had to, and the rest of the time Marley spent marveling over all she’d seen.
As she sat in the cold armory, Marley pondered many things. The air was frigid, for the flames that Caelum and Isaac tended to did not extend so far, and the fort was separate from the main quarters. Marley did not mind the cold, as it kept her mind clear, and on this day she needed such a thing.
The other night, a dream had come to her. The contents troubled Marley, because in it she saw Isaac, but it was not as she knew him. She got the sensation that Ourakles had shown her something that wouldn’t be immediately relevant, something that would sit and wait and gather dust in her mind until it at last came forth.
Marley’s concern was that she would grow to forget this. Why had Ourakles shown her something so far away? It was important, she could tell, but would she only remember when it was finally upon her?
It was difficult to think of Isaac so far into the future, and so changed. If she had not grown alongside the other dragon, she might not have known who he was. Ourakles claimed Marley in an obvious way, but Rastos’ touch on Isaac wasn’t as evident. And Aibek…
Marley shook her head and rose to her feet. The snow dusted inside the armory, Marley tracking it as she made her way outside. The snow clung to her scales, light and airy, and moved easily out of the way as she waded through it. Ahead, the palace glittered like a jewel among the white. Even devoid of life, it was a beautiful building. The magic that sustained the ice had lasted even after what Arven had done to the mages who’d cast it.
The path to the palace was one Marley had made herself, wings shuffling aside errant snow to keep her feet out of it. The back of the palace was less beautiful than the front, full of small doors made for servants and larger doors leading into indoor stables and dens, where dragons might fly in and clean themselves of the dirt that came with traveling by air.
The route Marley took to the grand hall was familiar, and Marley’s feet took her there without much thought. She was alone in the vast halls, and her footsteps echoed quietly back to herself. The sound of solitude always calmed her, and she relished the idea that the entire palace was hers. It was a complex emotion, tied to the fact that Ourakles showed her glimpses of the dragons who had lived there before.
She tried not to think about them.
The door pushed open with ease, and soon Marley stood in the center of the hall. As expected, Aibek waited for her there. He was admiring one of the many paintings that donned the walls, this one of a beautiful landscape of ice and water, a ship smeared across the chopping waves in the midst of a storm.
For a moment, Marley simply looked at Aibek. He hadn’t noticed her, and she didn’t call out. She experienced a flashing reminder of her dream, wherein Aibek looked much the same as he did now. Older, but unchanged. It had been jarring to see him alongside Isaac when Isaac was so not himself. She tried to picture that hostility she’d seen in her dream with the way Isaac and Aibek acted towards each other in the present, but was unable. Perhaps Ourakles would show her what had changed them.
For the moment, she allowed Aibek to catch her eye and returned the smile he sent her way. She stepped forward, feet quiet in the hall, in called out a greeting.
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Marley knew a lot of things. Most would argue that, in knowing, she had an advantage over all others, but that simply wasn’t true. Perhaps another dragon would, but Marley couldn’t wrestle forth any sort of interest in the things Ourakles showed her. The Saint ushered her into engagement only when he absolutely had to, and the rest of the time Marley spent marveling over all she’d seen.
As she sat in the cold armory, Marley pondered many things. The air was frigid, for the flames that Caelum and Isaac tended to did not extend so far, and the fort was separate from the main quarters. Marley did not mind the cold, as it kept her mind clear, and on this day she needed such a thing.
The other night, a dream had come to her. The contents troubled Marley, because in it she saw Isaac, but it was not as she knew him. She got the sensation that Ourakles had shown her something that wouldn’t be immediately relevant, something that would sit and wait and gather dust in her mind until it at last came forth.
Marley’s concern was that she would grow to forget this. Why had Ourakles shown her something so far away? It was important, she could tell, but would she only remember when it was finally upon her?
It was difficult to think of Isaac so far into the future, and so changed. If she had not grown alongside the other dragon, she might not have known who he was. Ourakles claimed Marley in an obvious way, but Rastos’ touch on Isaac wasn’t as evident. And Aibek…
Marley shook her head and rose to her feet. The snow dusted inside the armory, Marley tracking it as she made her way outside. The snow clung to her scales, light and airy, and moved easily out of the way as she waded through it. Ahead, the palace glittered like a jewel among the white. Even devoid of life, it was a beautiful building. The magic that sustained the ice had lasted even after what Arven had done to the mages who’d cast it.
The path to the palace was one Marley had made herself, wings shuffling aside errant snow to keep her feet out of it. The back of the palace was less beautiful than the front, full of small doors made for servants and larger doors leading into indoor stables and dens, where dragons might fly in and clean themselves of the dirt that came with traveling by air.
The route Marley took to the grand hall was familiar, and Marley’s feet took her there without much thought. She was alone in the vast halls, and her footsteps echoed quietly back to herself. The sound of solitude always calmed her, and she relished the idea that the entire palace was hers. It was a complex emotion, tied to the fact that Ourakles showed her glimpses of the dragons who had lived there before.
She tried not to think about them.
The door pushed open with ease, and soon Marley stood in the center of the hall. As expected, Aibek waited for her there. He was admiring one of the many paintings that donned the walls, this one of a beautiful landscape of ice and water, a ship smeared across the chopping waves in the midst of a storm.
For a moment, Marley simply looked at Aibek. He hadn’t noticed her, and she didn’t call out. She experienced a flashing reminder of her dream, wherein Aibek looked much the same as he did now. Older, but unchanged. It had been jarring to see him alongside Isaac when Isaac was so not himself. She tried to picture that hostility she’d seen in her dream with the way Isaac and Aibek acted towards each other in the present, but was unable. Perhaps Ourakles would show her what had changed them.
For the moment, she allowed Aibek to catch her eye and returned the smile he sent her way. She stepped forward, feet quiet in the hall, in called out a greeting.
[font=Century Gothic][size=5][color=55422f]update[/font]
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[font=Century][size=4]M[/size]aybe I should find that motivation to get in the coli again, because I just gathered an ice egg! Going to save this one, however.
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update
Maybe I should find that motivation to get in the coli again, because I just gathered an ice egg! Going to save this one, however.
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[font=Century]L[size=2]ife After Death[/size]
[size=1][size=1]@Bebblesnipe[/size][/right]
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[font=Century][size=4]T[/size]he eggs hatched on an unusual day. Winter was howling its displeasure outside, the windows and walls groaning beneath the buffeting winds. Unknowing to the days promised events, Arven had left the palace with Isaac and Aibek in the early morning when the sky was still clear, laden with all the supplies they would need for hunting.
Ambrose had sat before the frosted door, unsure of what to do. It’d been an hour or so ago when the first egg began to crack, lightning fizzing in the crevice. The nature egg hummed with life, louder now that it had been. The room seemed to vibrate with energy waiting to burst.
The small fae who constantly froze his door each night frightened Ambrose a bit, but he hadn’t heard hide nor hair of either him or his companion, that wary guardian who brought Ambrose food. What was he to do? He couldn’t just sit and wait for the inevitable.
Feeling guilty, Ambrose flicked his gaze to the eggs. They had grown still, but that wouldn’t last. Huffing a breath, Ambrose ambled closer to the door and lowered his head to the hardwood floor. Closing his eyes, he mumbled incoherent words and felt vines curl out of his scales. They climbed over his wings and reached for the door like eager hands, clasping at metal and wood and pulling, ripping, tearing.
The door shuddered and fell apart, wood crumbling beneath the tendrils of green. Ambrose shuddered with it, giving himself a great shake until the vines fell away from his body and wilted on the floor. Past his shoulder, they remained unchanged.
Time to find another dragon.
He first stumbled across a pair, both quiet in a game of dice. One was a dull coloured tundra, her wings a fetid green colour. She looked up as Ambrose approached, eyes a piercing red. Beside her, the guardian stirred. They were deep blue all over, even their eyes an icy pale blue. Orange shocked across their scales, as if suffused with light.
“Morning,” the guardian greeted. They looked Ambrose over with a small amount of interest. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
Ambrose grew still, looking between them. “No,” he said. “We haven’t.”
They were silent a moment, and then the guardian stood. “Taz,” they introduced themselves. “This is Slania.” The tundra dipped her head when introduced.
“Ambrose.” He hesitated, feeling suddenly unsure. Were these dragons reliable to trust? He’d carried those eggs for miles, and to risk them now… But Ambrose knew he wasn’t equipped to help an egg hatch to life. He stepped forward. “I came here with two eggs,” he said, speaking louder now. “They’re hatching. Can either of you help me?”
The pair stared back, then Slania rose up. Taz looked at her, seeming a little surprised, before looking back at Ambrose. “She can help,” they said. “She has done it before.”
Ambrose blinked. His disbelief must have been evident—or perhaps they’d simply dealt with this before—because Taz smiled. “She is Plague born, but she has not lived there since her own hatching. You can trust her, seedling.”
Seedling. He hadn’t been called that in years himself. Perhaps it was because he himself was so detached from his birth flight, but Ambrose simply nodded and flicked his tail the way he’d come. “This way. Please.”
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The eggs hatched on an unusual day. Winter was howling its displeasure outside, the windows and walls groaning beneath the buffeting winds. Unknowing to the days promised events, Arven had left the palace with Isaac and Aibek in the early morning when the sky was still clear, laden with all the supplies they would need for hunting.
Ambrose had sat before the frosted door, unsure of what to do. It’d been an hour or so ago when the first egg began to crack, lightning fizzing in the crevice. The nature egg hummed with life, louder now that it had been. The room seemed to vibrate with energy waiting to burst.
The small fae who constantly froze his door each night frightened Ambrose a bit, but he hadn’t heard hide nor hair of either him or his companion, that wary guardian who brought Ambrose food. What was he to do? He couldn’t just sit and wait for the inevitable.
Feeling guilty, Ambrose flicked his gaze to the eggs. They had grown still, but that wouldn’t last. Huffing a breath, Ambrose ambled closer to the door and lowered his head to the hardwood floor. Closing his eyes, he mumbled incoherent words and felt vines curl out of his scales. They climbed over his wings and reached for the door like eager hands, clasping at metal and wood and pulling, ripping, tearing.
The door shuddered and fell apart, wood crumbling beneath the tendrils of green. Ambrose shuddered with it, giving himself a great shake until the vines fell away from his body and wilted on the floor. Past his shoulder, they remained unchanged.
Time to find another dragon.
He first stumbled across a pair, both quiet in a game of dice. One was a dull coloured tundra, her wings a fetid green colour. She looked up as Ambrose approached, eyes a piercing red. Beside her, the guardian stirred. They were deep blue all over, even their eyes an icy pale blue. Orange shocked across their scales, as if suffused with light.
“Morning,” the guardian greeted. They looked Ambrose over with a small amount of interest. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
Ambrose grew still, looking between them. “No,” he said. “We haven’t.”
They were silent a moment, and then the guardian stood. “Taz,” they introduced themselves. “This is Slania.” The tundra dipped her head when introduced.
“Ambrose.” He hesitated, feeling suddenly unsure. Were these dragons reliable to trust? He’d carried those eggs for miles, and to risk them now… But Ambrose knew he wasn’t equipped to help an egg hatch to life. He stepped forward. “I came here with two eggs,” he said, speaking louder now. “They’re hatching. Can either of you help me?”
The pair stared back, then Slania rose up. Taz looked at her, seeming a little surprised, before looking back at Ambrose. “She can help,” they said. “She has done it before.”
Ambrose blinked. His disbelief must have been evident—or perhaps they’d simply dealt with this before—because Taz smiled. “She is Plague born, but she has not lived there since her own hatching. You can trust her, seedling.”
Seedling. He hadn’t been called that in years himself. Perhaps it was because he himself was so detached from his birth flight, but Ambrose simply nodded and flicked his tail the way he’d come. “This way. Please.”
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[font=Century]T[size=2]he Cold[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]S[/size]lania had been listening.
Arven had returned that morning, Aibek and Isaac in tow. The two of them were covered in scrapes and scratches, but there was a glint in their eyes that felt fiery and warm. Slania was familiar with such a look.
As soon as the young lord returned to his palace of ghosts, Ambrose disappeared into his room and didn’t leave. Slania returned to Taz, egg still clinging to her scales, and flicked her tail at them in a way that said let’s go. Her duty was done, and she would return to being invisible.
But now even she couldn’t escape the icy cold that Arven brought with him, his chilly energy filling every hall and room. Taz shivered beside her, but she remained still. She was accustomed to the cold.
Later, Aibek crossed their paths. “Two nocturnes,” he whispered. “Ambrose has named them Ciela and Casimir.”
Slania’s mouth curled into a smile. Ciela and Casimir. Lovely names for two beautiful hatchlings. She had coaxed them into warmth and life herself, furred paws rubbing heat into their little arms and legs. Ambrose had nearly wept at their arrival, and the sight of it surprised Slania. She was still unsure of his connection to them, because it couldn’t have been a blood relation. Yet nothing could deny the devotion he showed for the two hatchlings.
As the day fed into night, Isaac too met them in the halls. “Thank you for your help,” he said, speaking to Slania. “Ambrose is eternally grateful.”
Slania dipped her head in reply, but it was Taz who spoke. “Will they be staying?” they asked.
Something flickered across Isaac’s face. “Yes,” he said sharply. “Arven might say otherwise, but he’s acting a fool. He’s never turned anyone away before, so it’s unreasonable to start now with two dragons so young. And their caretaker.”
Taz and Slania exchanged a glance. “We stand with you,” Taz murmured, bowing their head. Slania did the same. When they looked back up, Isaac’s face was unreadable. He cut his gaze away.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, then vanished down the hall.
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Slania had been listening.
Arven had returned that morning, Aibek and Isaac in tow. The two of them were covered in scrapes and scratches, but there was a glint in their eyes that felt fiery and warm. Slania was familiar with such a look.
As soon as the young lord returned to his palace of ghosts, Ambrose disappeared into his room and didn’t leave. Slania returned to Taz, egg still clinging to her scales, and flicked her tail at them in a way that said let’s go. Her duty was done, and she would return to being invisible.
But now even she couldn’t escape the icy cold that Arven brought with him, his chilly energy filling every hall and room. Taz shivered beside her, but she remained still. She was accustomed to the cold.
Later, Aibek crossed their paths. “Two nocturnes,” he whispered. “Ambrose has named them Ciela and Casimir.”
Slania’s mouth curled into a smile. Ciela and Casimir. Lovely names for two beautiful hatchlings. She had coaxed them into warmth and life herself, furred paws rubbing heat into their little arms and legs. Ambrose had nearly wept at their arrival, and the sight of it surprised Slania. She was still unsure of his connection to them, because it couldn’t have been a blood relation. Yet nothing could deny the devotion he showed for the two hatchlings.
As the day fed into night, Isaac too met them in the halls. “Thank you for your help,” he said, speaking to Slania. “Ambrose is eternally grateful.”
Slania dipped her head in reply, but it was Taz who spoke. “Will they be staying?” they asked.
Something flickered across Isaac’s face. “Yes,” he said sharply. “Arven might say otherwise, but he’s acting a fool. He’s never turned anyone away before, so it’s unreasonable to start now with two dragons so young. And their caretaker.”
Taz and Slania exchanged a glance. “We stand with you,” Taz murmured, bowing their head. Slania did the same. When they looked back up, Isaac’s face was unreadable. He cut his gaze away.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, then vanished down the hall.
