Needless to say, the stranger’s seemingly carefree approach to the situation did very little to calm Doriane’s nerve. If anything, she was considering waking Spike up so that he could deal with the problem the way he always did, leaving her to do her thing in relative peace.
But, no. There is already enough death and gore in this place, and any more commotion could only attract more unwanted attention. Doriane had a few new scars to prove it.
“You haven’t, buddy, but others have beforehand, so do forgive me if I’m a little on edge.” Doriane’s speech was a veritable snarl, her grip on her dagger tightening until her hand turned white. Though it would also seem that she believed his words; her posture wasn’t as defensive as it was just a couple seconds ago. Even then, it hardly seemed like she was going to relax just yet. “But, you’re right. Live dragons are a bit more fascinating than their bloody remains.”
She continued to stare the pair down for what felt like hours, the air thick and heavy not only from the stench of the various corpses littered about. Then slowly, surely, Doriane’s posture would relax ever so slightly. She even put her dagger back where it was, though her hand was still on the handle. “Then again, neither you nor your friend there strike me as having death wishes,”Doriane grumbled, gaze briefly turning to the still slumbering Spike before focusing on the pair again. She’d then move to pick up her journal, eyes still on the strangers, closing the book and then stuffing it into her bag. “Be glad my own pal’s asleep. Even with a full belly, he’s almost always itching for a fight. I’m not sure I’d have held him back, too.”
“And he isn’t my dragon,” she’d then state, almost in a matter-of-fact kind of way as she pointed a thumb at the sleeping dragon. “He’s just my partner. The day he becomes anyone’s property is when he’s dead and his head’s mounted on a wall.” Surprisingly, her voice had taken a more jesting tone at the last line. Not in a joking manner, though, more along the lines of stating an impossibility. “But that’s beside the point. I’m gonna assume it’s not every day that you run into a scene like…” Doriane momentarily paused, looking around the blood-and-amber mess. “… Well, like this, no? Only reason I can think of why you’d stick around. Most not-crazy people would’ve turned around and left the moment they came upon a literal bloodbath.”
At the very least the situation isn’t as tense as before.
Doriane even let go of her dagger’s hilt, now standing in a more aloof position.
“… So, uh, name’s Doriane. My buddy over there is called Spike. Nice to meet you, I guess?”
She was the one retaining the hostile attitude, now, PERSISTENT on her own defensive even as both rider and dragon melted into an air more casual than before; frankly, Hiccup swore approaching her was no different than approaching the apparently blood-thirsty dragon himself—he felt a twitch of instinct to hold out a hand as was NECESSARY in befriending those in the wild. Who was the spitfire here, if not the young woman all but GROWLING in his face while the dragon nearby simply slumbered?
But, well... the LOGICAL side of himself emerging into his desire to answer with another quip had him BITING what was already prepped on his tongue. He instead, with SHOCKING silence, shook his head at her aggressive words, and though his own demeanor displayed in entirety his PASSIVENESS, he did not let his guard down. The focus of his stare kept dipping to her readied weapon; one step ahead, the viking was already thinking of the best ESCAPE should she decide to attack.
Only to let out a soft exhale of RELIEF when that tension dissipated—at least to the tiniest degree.
“Well, sure, if you want to, ahh... get into the TECHNICALITIES of calling something yours, fine. He’s NOT yours. But, umm... y’know, he is YOUR partner, apparently, so that still is some form of... yours?” There was the prominent SNARK he had been holding back, expressed before Hiccup could even think to stop himself. He gave her a look bordering on pathetic, head swaying to one side, but gradually did a smile—maybe an attempt to DISPEL the lingering aggression—slide across his lips.
Because she offered an introduction, then, and he was more than a little eager to find some FRIENDLY grounds upon which they could both stand. Which wasn’t really helped by his attitude, but... He feigned ignorance to the pointed stares his night fury was casting his way.
“Doriane, huh? Yeah, uhh... s-sure; nice to OFFICIALLY meet you, too.” He moved one pace forward, caution still at his heels, and offered his hand for a proper shake. “Hiccup. Sorry for STARTLING you but... Well, Toothless here and I don’t typically just—ignore DEVASTATION when we... see it.” Smell it, more like.
With a jerk of his head toward the dragon named Spike, “I’ve never seen his species before. Are they usually so... DESTRUCTIVE?”