In Shadow Of The Gods - a Nuzlocke

My FR nuzlocke and nothing else. For further information/ruleset/conversations to due with the nuzlocke please see the provided links.

[inshadowofthegods]

Sunset

Days quietly slipped into weeks as Ciron continued to try to formulate a plan to end things for the better. If he'd only known that Edan's clan was searching for him on the mainland, mere miles away, he would have sought them out - but such was not the case. So instead he spent his days hunting for and protecting his so-called clan, offering quiet, subtle kindnesses to the dragons who worked around him in the rare times Altiel wasn't watching. He hoped he'd make a few allies for when the time came to... well, he wasn't sure. Cut and run? Fight? All the possibilities scared him. Paralyzed him. But he'd find out where loyalties lay soon enough, and in a terrible way. He could hear a commotion while heading back from a hunting trip alongside the banescales, Geron, and Valsig, and found a crowd gathered around Altiel, who was berating Pox. He saw the pendant he'd let her hide so long ago clutched in his father's claw, and rushed to intervene - But somehow Mitzi was faster. She launched herself from her perch on Valsig's shoulder to grab Altiel's wrist as he prepared to strike. The white pearlcatcher flinched, then threw his arm outward, sending the fledgling crashing into the nearby rocks. There was a sickening crack, and she lay still. Ciron let out a cry, but it was drowned out by Nara and Meika as they ran to their sister's side. He moved to follow, already charging his breath for as strong a healing spell as he could muster, but Altiel grabbed him and pulled him away. "Gods' sake, do your job for once," the older pearlcatcher hissed, shoving him toward Pox. "I've been letting you play house a little too long, everyone needs to learn their pl -" Ciron loosed a gout of flame directly into his father's face and then charged forward, crashing into the older pearlcatcher with all the strength he could muster while he was still stunned. Pox dashed away from them both, rushing to Mitzi's side. Ciron watched for any sign of life from the banescale for a moment too long, and then he was blinded by searing light. Altiel had risen, and his magic was overwhelming. Blindly, Ciron charged again, heard his father grunt as he made impact, and grabbed on. He channeled flames through his claws and did everything he could to hold on as he heard chaos erupt around him. There was fighting all around them, he had no doubt of that, but he could only see vague shapes and black blots over vague white - and then pure white again as Altiel's magic cut through him once more. Ciron shut his eyes and aimed his breath as best he could before letting loose another blast of fire, assured only by Altiel's screaming that he had hit his mark as the elder pearlcatcher fought free from his grasp. Altiel was shouting commands, but he couldn't focus on what they were in his desperation. As his vision slowly began to clear, he saw Altiel urgently attempting to heal his wounds, and one of his footsoldiers - a mirror - rushing forward with a sword pointed directly at him. Ciron didn't have a chance to try to evade it. It was then that Nara and Meika flew to his defense, clawing at his attacker's face as the mirror tried to swat them both away. Ciron clasped a talon over his wound, trying to catch his breath to tell the fledglings to just get away, as Altiel's mouth began to glow with white-hot light. The ground began to shake. Valsig and Geron rushed forward, the guardian standing between him and Altiel, and the ridgeback continuing on, unnervingly fluid in spite of his massive size. Though Geron blocked much of what he might have seen even - and his eyesight was still damaged from the light magic, at that - Ciron still saw Valsig's massive form blot out the sun as he raised up on his hind legs. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ridgeback slammed his talons down. Altiel let out a scream that faded out like a sigh, and the fighting all around them died out. "It's done. Leave," Valsig said, his voice utterly empty of emotion. There was very little movement from the other dragons, most still just staring at what was left of their leader, captor, whatever else. "You 'eard 'im," Geron growled, turning to address the crowd. "Leave." And then, all at once, the group scattered. The bulk of the clan immediately took to the air, with a scattered few undoing the bindings of the others, and some rushing to grab whatever valuables they had before leaving. Ciron had just managed to close his wound enough to stop the bleeding. He fought to stay on his feet, but ultimately had to lean against Geron's leg to steady himself. The guardian didn't react, still watching the others retreat. The two banescales stayed huddled against him, and for the next long minutes, all he could hear was the churning and splashing of water as Valsig washed his talons. His eyes stung, but the sunbursts ebbed away. Ciron silently looked over the remnants of the camp, the... mess... of his father's remains, and finally to Pox - and to his surprise, Peony - huddled by the rocks. "Pox, is Mitzi - " he began, but in his heart he knew the answer. Pox turned, the banescale still cradled in her arms. The skydancer shook her head, choking back sobs. Peony put her claw on her shoulder, and she took a deep breath before responding, her voice ragged. "She's - she's gone."

[inshadowofthegods]

Fault

"But why are you here, then?" the little banescale asked, her tiny flock all looking up with wide, curious eyes. "I didn't choose to be here," Peony stated, her patience clearly wearing thin. "I was brought here." "But why?" Mitzi pressed, cocking her head to the side. "That's enough," Pox interrupted, waving the banescale fledglings away. "Go play." "But - " Nara began, only to wilt and turn tail as the skydancer once more shooed her away. The three eventually busied themselves with a game of tug-of-war just outside the tent, and the two adult females breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Do you get sick of looking after his kids for him?" Peony asked. She shifted and lay down on the carpet, resting her head on her crossed forearms. "Hmm... not really," Pox replied. "And besides, they're basically my kids too. We found them together." "...Weird," Peony remarked, raising a brow. Pox made a dismissive noise and waved a hand idly. "What are you two, anyway?" the mirror asked, that quizzical expression still on her face. "Nothing," Pox responded quickly. "Maybe... allies? I suppose. I don't want to be here either." Another few minutes of silence. "Who were you before all this, anyway?" Pox asked cautiously. "What do you mean?" "Ciron is a prince. There must be a reason they picked you, specifically." "Ugh," Peony rubbed her forehead. "I'm a clan leader's daughter. That's it." "Was it an important clan?" "I mean... not really. Average, I think. I don't know.... What about you, Pox?" "...We were jewelers," the skydancer replied quietly. "Techniques passed down through the generations. We were actually well-known for it, so I guess it's not surprising that..." She trailed off, and it was quiet once more. "You must miss it terribly." "I do." The mirror sat up. "Well, I hope we can both get home soon." "I can't," Pox replied. "I've been there since. There's nothing left." "Oh," the mirror blurted. "They really let you go back?" "They took me there to scavenge. Find old hoards. There's nothing left, nobody," Pox shook her head, then paused. She looked over at Peony, and then carefully pulled her small pendant from its hiding place in her silks. "...Except this, from my own hoard. My and my mother's project." "It's beautiful," Peony began. "Wait, how on earth did you get to keep that?" "Nobody else knows about it - aside from Ciron, anyway," Pox replied, quickly hiding it once more. "It's my piece of home. Keeps me sane, really." "Maybe... when all this is over, you could come with me," Peony offered. "My clan is intact, I-I'm sure of it. We might have to work out custody of your kids, though." Pox chuckled, trying not to show her doubt. "I'd like that. Thank you."

[inshadowofthegods]

Mini-Update: Grey

Ciron and Peony's time together had evolved from being full of animosity to simply tense and awkward. The mirror kept to herself for the mostpart, though she would occasionally share a quiet conversation with Pox. Thankfully, her supposed union to him offered her plenty of protection; the rest of the clan left her completely alone now, she was able to walk freely through the campsite, and was given her choice of food immediately after him. He still knew little about her, but that wasn't surprising. They didn't need to bond, he just needed to focus on getting her out. For that reason, he had begun to spend more time alongside Valsig and Geron. The two guards - brutish though they were - were somehow more approachable than the others. More talkative, certainly. He had a feeling that having them more on his side would be helpful. He'd learned bits and pieces about them that he never would have guessed otherwise, but the most important was that they didn't particularly enjoy being there either. He wasn't foolish enough to tell them about his plans. Not yet, at least.

[inshadowofthegods]

Negotiations

Ciron stared across the tent in quiet apprehension. His gaze was met by eyes bright with fear and ferocity in equal measure. His intended mate was pressed against the opposite canvas wall, covered in dirt, bruises, and scuffs. The many layers of silk she wore were in similar repair, torn and caked in dried mud. She hadn't moved an inch since seeing him - save for baring her teeth in a vicious snarl. He hadn't moved either, not since the tent flaps closed behind him. They were alone, and if there was anyone outside, he hadn't heard a single sound from them. Was anyone listening? Was this some kind of test? Ciron swallowed, and then, as slowly as possible, took a step forward. "STAY AWAY!" the mirror shrieked, recoiling and pressing against the tent wall. Ciron froze, not wanting to provoke her even more. He slowly craned his neck forward as far as he could, then whispered: "can you hear me?" No response. He tried again, a bit louder this time. "Listen, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want anyone to hear me. My name is - " "I know your name," the mirror interrupted harshly - but quietly as well. "Uh, right - listen, I'm not like my - I'm not like them," he stammered, nodding back toward the tent flap. He took another step forward, keeping as quiet as possible. "I'm trying to help everyone... get out of here. Everyone who wants to anyway." "Hey, don't - " the mirror's voice peaked and she paused, then continued, matching his whisper. "Stay away from me. Why should I trust you?" "I..." Ciron sighed. "I mean, I wouldn't either. But I don't think you don't have any better options here." The mirror briefly looked downward, focusing on her talons before glaring back at him. "If you just stick near me, everyone else will leave you alone," Ciron said. "And in time, I can try to get you home." "How?" she asked, still in a terse whisper. "It depends on how things go," he evaded. "We just have to wait for the right opportunity. "What's your name?" "It's Peony," she replied. She seemed to slump somewhat upon saying it. "Okay, Peony, will you come with me for now?" he asked. "I'll introduce you to Pox and the hatchlings." "You have kids?" she asked flatly, slowly stepping toward him. "They're, uh, adopted," Ciron said before turning and nodding toward the tent flaps. "Okay, just follow me."

------------------------------- Onward Edan looked through each packed bag, checking for food, waterskins, bandages, and everything else each and every one of his group would need. Reika had already gone over all their equipment several times, repeating her confidence in her craftsmanship all the while. It was easy for him to see her worry through the bravado, but there was no point in mentioning it. He was scared, as well. His clan was splitting roughly in half for the journey; with the bulk of the most skilled warriors coming with him, and the others staying back to look after the homestead. He'd made it clear that nobody had to join him, but there was no shortage of volunteers regardless. Unsurprising when so many of his clan members had grown up alongside Ciron, and knowing the things his birthclan was capable of. The mirror grit his teeth, buckling the last of the satchels shut and setting them by the door. They were as ready as they could be. They'd leave tomorrow.

[inshadowofthegods]

Tagalong

Edan once more found himself sitting at his table, staring across at two strangers. Though this time, they seemed rather oblivious to the tension in the room, and were more focused on inane banter and bickering with each other - and there was a third happily helping Ila in the kitchen. Reika, seated to his right, exchanged an incredulous glance. Hazel, to his left, appeared to be suffering from a sudden migraine. "...and Flotsam Town was just fascinating, there really isn't anywhere else like it." "I mean The Isles have floating towns." "I don't mean how they -" "They don't even need water." "I'm talking about the atmosphe-" "I would know, I was born there. You were born in a tree." "For Gods' sake - " "Okay. So Edan said you had information," Reika prompted, gesturing stiffly for them to just get on with it. "Oh absolutely, in exchange for a dinner! Which we're waiting on still," the little grey dragon replied, her nose crinkling as she smiled. "Almost ready," Ila said swiftly, suddenly rushing to the table with a few sliced loaves of bread - freshly warmed from the oven- and seed butter. "And it smells lovely, did you really make all this?" Deimoro asked, his fins flaring outward. "I- well, not always, but most of the time!" Ila replied, quickly turning back to check on the pot Quen had been stirring. "I like cooking, but everyone here can if they need to." "That's something I've always wanted to learn, though we don't really get the chance to use an actual kitchen much," the fae responded with a nod, his eyes still on her as he reached for a slice of bread. "Mhmmm, I suppose that's true," Quen nodded. "Not that you help me much when we make camp, Deims." "Well, Quen, your cookware is way too big for me," Deimoro replied, crests flicking backward. Face Eater snorted. Edan frowned. "Alright, it's done, I think!" Ila announced, quickly ladling stew out into bowls and serving them out one by one. "Thank you," Deimoro said, taking his gratefully. He and Face Eater bowed their heads in unison before starting to eat. Quen joined them at the table, and Ila stepped outside to let everyone else know they could come serve themselves. A few tense, quiet moments passed as their guests ate, and then Face Eater lifted her bowl and downed it in a flourish. "Okay!" she began, slamming it back down on the table. "So, we already talked about that stupid ambush. Quen thought we might be able to just walk off peacefully, but that damn pearlcatcher tried to take a swipe at Deims the moment he tried to fly off, so - " she made a quick slashing motion with her claw. "Dagger to the eye, Quen starts charging, and then he was running." "Mhm," the gaoler nodded. "I think they must not have expected us to actually be a threat somehow. They all bolted." "But," Deimoro said, holding up a claw. "As they ran off, they said they’d meet up with their group off in the Ashwastes and then come back with a whole army and burn our house to the ground." "Idiots!" Face Eater snickered. "We don't even have a house!" "But, yes, there you go! Ashwastes. If they're part of that group you're after, there you have it," Deimoro shrugged. "The clans there are on the tougher side, and you'd probably just have to follow the main trade routes to find out where they are - word travels fast there." Edan blinked. "That... makes sense, actually," he mused, before glancing over at Hazel. The skydancer didn't seem to be in any state to respond. Ila had slipped back in at some point and was offering her water. "Worth a hot meal, huh?" Face Eater asked wryly. "But! I think we should do you one better!" Deimoro said, clapping his hands together. "If this group really is such a threat, we should come with you." "What?" Face Eater snapped. "No we shouldn't!" "There's no need for that," Edan stated flatly. "I think we should, though," Deimoro continued. "We let four go, and we shouldn't have. If they hurt anyone else, part of that's on us." "No it's not," Face Eater rolled her eyes. "We're not in some cosmic debt for not killing someone," Quen added. "I still think we should help," Deimoro stated, flattening his crests. "We're capable fighters, and the more dragons, the more likely our kind hosts here are to win." A pause. "And it's not like either of your have anything better to do," he added, flicking a frill. "I suppose," Quen relented, before turning to Edan. "If you'll have us, anyway." "Like I said, it's not necess-" "You're right, Deimoro, we could use the extra help," Ila cut in. "And we currently have an empty room, as well. I imagine we'll be making our preparations and then heading South as soon as possible." Edan turned to the nocturne, only to find her avoiding his gaze. "Keeper's snot, fine," Reika exclaimed, throwing her claws in the air before standing. "I'm going to go see if Tarot's back yet so we can go over our gear." As Reika left, Ila walked the newcomers to the side room, and Edan found himself alone at the table with Hazel. The skydancer, who had been silently clutching her head for much of the time, finally let out a swear. "So... the fae," Edan began. "Was he being honest?" "Gods," Hazel breathed. "I... think so? It was hard to hear him. The other little dragon, she was buzzing so loud." "Buzzing?" Edan frowned. Hazel pointed at her antennae. "Buzzing. It was so loud, I couldn't understand what..." she paused, then shook her head, squinting her eyes shut. "She's really weird. I couldn't read her. They're all weird. I wish Runie was here..." "Mhm," Edan nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Me too. But she ain't right now, so I need your help." "They're all weird," she repeated, then scooted a little closer. "The fae though..." she began, her voice a low whisper. "Yea?" "I think he's just kind of dumb."

[inshadowofthegods]

Another Grey Dawn

Morning came, and things seemed the same as any other day, more or less. Whatever had been taken in the night had been put away, and aside from the majority of the clan being bleary-eyed there was really no hint they'd done anything at all. Ciron had shushed Mitzi back to sleep without explaining anything. It certainly wouldn't have done any good. He just had to focus on getting them out before the situation could really affect the hatchlings. Or, well, that wasn't enough. He wanted to stop it all, that was why he sought his father out in the first place. Maybe some part of him had thought they really would stop once he was there, or at least he'd be consulted so he could try to convince the others not to. Stupid. As he made his way past the tents, the banescales bustling behind him, he became slowly aware that something was feeling distinctly different after all. There was something in how the others were looking at him: a sort of expectation with various degrees of unease. He did his best to ignore it as he led the hatchlings to the cooking pit and accepted the platter of food that was pushed into his hands. He carried the food off away from the rest of the clan before setting it down for the ravenous group to set upon. He lay down, looking out over the water and trying to plan as the hatchlings tore into their pile of salted fish. Perhaps if he could just get enough people to listen to him over Altiel... it didn't have to be everyone, just enough. Surely they didn't all like pillaging other clans, it didn't make sense to him. The pearlcatcher frowned, staring down at his talons and stretching them. The other - obvious - option would be to take out Altiel. He knew that logically, but he couldn't imagine killing another dragon in practice. Weakness, was all he could attribute it to. Amidst the noise of the hatchlings, he heard footfalls and looked up to see Altiel approaching. He quickly sat up and turned to face him. "Good morning," the white pearlcatcher said simply. "Are you rested?" "I - yes," Ciron stammered. "I'm fine." "Good, follow me then," Altiel replied, nodding once before turning and starting to walk away. "I've found you a mate."

[inshadowofthegods]

Spoils

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

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

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

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

"The meat is old! If you eat it without cooking it you'll get sick," Ciron exclaimed. "Besides even fresh meat can have parasites! This is how - this is how we do it, Mitzi." Mitzi threw her head back and groaned loudly, and Ciron finally bent down and brushed her off his shoulder. He straightened up and nudged her with his foot. "That's enough now, go play with your siblings. Go play with Pox." The banescale glowered before shuffling off toward the group, grumbling as she went. Ciron idly watched as she begrudgingly joined her fellow banescales in play, then turned his attention to Pox. The skydancer had been distraught when he returned, at least until she saw Mitzi safe with him. More afraid of repercussions than the troublesome little banescale's safety, he figured. Fair enough. None of this really should have been her problem. Maybe if he had been here when the rest of the clan headed off, he could have helped her slip away? ...No, her wings were clipped, they were on an island, and he couldn't exactly carry her, now could he? And there were still a few guards about. And that wouldn't fix the problem either. They'd find her easily, they'd keep seeking out other clans. Ciron studied her weary face as she watched the hatchlings play. He briefly saw some ghost of a smile cross her features as Mitzi suddenly leapt forward and tackled her brother, who let out a shocked squeal. He noticed then that the skydancer seemed to be missing some crest feathers, and couldn't help but wonder if she'd plucked them herself. She happened to turn her head then and caught his gaze, and at the same moment, the smell of burning hit his nose. "Food's ready!" he called, quickly stirring the pot and working to scrape the charred bottom.

----------

Ciron woke late at night, to the sound of loud arguing and the clatter of metal. "I said I don't want 'er," came a familiar voice. "Just don't! Don't need a reason. I'll take the whiskey though."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You bolt them - just take her to Siarl," Valtiel responded, shaking his head and turning back toward the camp.

Ciron ducked back in then and lay down, biting back the nausea he felt. It was only then he noticed Mitzi had woken, and was looking at him with confused eyes.

[inshadowofthegods]

Introductions

Edan glanced uncomfortably to the side, watching as Ila and the newcomers chatted up a storm. Their supplies on their backs, they were making the long walk back home - all of them. "...and so we were trying to figure out, like, should we go find help? But there was nobody else - no clans for miles and miles," the gaoler - Quen, he'd been told - explained, shaking her head slightly as the two smaller dragons tried to keep balance on her horns. "So finally Deims just decided he'd fly over and see if he could see breathing or anything, and that's when the whole group just popped out of the trees and tried to shake him down!" Quen growled, before adding with a smirk. "They somehow hadn't noticed he wasn't alone, I guess." "Not that I needed your help, mind," the fae shrugged, his fins flicking in what was presumably amusement. "They all stopped in their tracks when I pulled a dagger on the pearly that was playing dead on the ground." "Yeah, yeah," Quen rolled her eyes and gave her head a playful shake, jostling the fae - and the other strange dragon, who let out an annoyed shout. Ila, who had been listening raptly, stifled a giggle. "So who did you say ya were again?" Edan asked flatly. "And why are you - what brings you here, anyway?" "Travellers! Been all over the world now." The fae exclaimed, his voice pleasant in spite of his lack of expression. "And this lovely lady is my friend and traveling partner, Quen..." The gaoler smiled and nodded, again jostling her passengers. "And the veilspun is my sister - " "Face Eater," the other small dragon interjected, offering a thin, fanged grin. Deimoro's friendly bravado suddenly dropped, along with his fins. "Yes. This is my sister Face Eater," he nodded theatrically, gesturing toward the grey dragon on the horn across from him. "Her name is Lae." "Face. Eater." "You're taking this too far - " Edan caught Ila's eye as the two dragons began to bicker, nodding before slowing down. The nocturne matched pace. "So... why are they comin' with us?" he asked, scowling at the odd group still walking along and arguing. "Doesn't that sound like Altiel's group? I thought they might be able to help us," Ila replied, eagerness in her tone. "Sure," Edan nodded. "But why are they coming to our house? We coulda just talked to them at the crossroads." "Well," Ila suddenly looked a bit bashful, and she nervously adjusted the satchels she was carrying. Her voice got quieter and quieter as she spoke. "I figured if they're wanderers they might have a lot to share with us, and they all seem like they haven't had a good meal in a while. So I offered them a hot meal in exchange for information before I really considered asking in a different way." "Hm," Edan set his jaw, then let out a sigh. "Well. Not the first time something like this has happened I guess. We'll see what comes of it." Ila nodded, then hurried back over to walk beside the new group, who had just seemed to notice her absence. Edan shook his head to himself before moving to join her. Time to keep an eye on them.

[inshadowofthegods]

With Fresh Eyes

"I didn't want to break any of your little rules, but after so many months without stopping by I was getting close to coming to look for you." Edan shifted uncomfortably in the fold-out chair the wildclaw had set out for him. He offered a half-hearted shrug. "Well, y'know... time kinda slips away recently," he hesitated, not really wanting to get into it with much detail. "We've had a lot on our plates." "I'd been getting worried about you," Zuehal frowned, drumming his claws on the table between them. "I was wondering if you all had died somehow." "Well, I... I'm sorry for worrying ya, for what it's worth," he sighed, glancing around the tent they were sat in as opposed to meeting the wildclaw's gaze. "So, uh... did ya really bring me in here to talk prices or was it just for - " "Oh no, that was real," Zuehal waved a hand dismissively. "Ila's sewing has been selling quite well - I've been able to move them as art pieces. There was a bidding war on the last shawl she made - you wound up with, ah, a line of credit here from it, actually." "Oh," Edan blinked in surprise. "About how much would that be?" "Several orders worth, if you're picking up all your staples anyway," Zuehal replied, pulling a sheet of parchment and quill out from his satchels. "I also wanted to check if your group would be wanting more scrolls anytime soon. I'll be working with my supplier again shortly..." "Not to my knowledge, but you'd be better off asking them," Edan replied. "If they want to order something I'm fine with it. Within reason, anyway." "Alright," Zuehal nodded, scratching some note down before looking back at him with a brief, somewhat empty-feeling smile. "That's all I need from you for now, Edan, thank you. If anyone is ready to show me what they have to trade please send them in. I'd love to chat with Ila whether she has something or not, if you could let her know." "Sure thing," Edan stood and headed toward the tent flap, briefly pausing and looking over his shoulder. "Good to see ya, by the way." Zuehal chuckled and nodded, his smile seeming more sincere as he answered: "And you, too." *** Ila wasn't immediately visible when Edan stepped out of the tent, in fact, the rest of the group was absent save for Hazel - who eagerly pushed past him to show Zuehal her latest creations. He heard an exclamation off to his left, and saw them all crowded together around three dragons he'd never seen before.

Breaking into a trot, he hurried toward them all, prepared to charge to his clan's defense if something was amiss - But then Ila saw him and waved eagerly. "Edan!" she exclaimed. "You aren't going to believe this!"

[inshadowofthegods]

Ashen

The bitter wind coming across the ocean assailed him, whipping his long, smoke-stained mane against his face. Instinctively, Ciron folded his wings in and crouched slightly, shielding himself as best he could. He wasn't certain why he kept coming back to look. What he expected to find. The Icefields were much too far away to see, no matter the weather. Travel from the mainland to the Rebuke had been difficult enough; they'd lost several members to another eruption that hit midflight. The outfall had rained down on Geron and a few others who were carrying the smallest dragons on their back. He knew Blair had been crushed. He knew several others burnt to death. He didn't see it happen, and he didn't even know about it until they'd reached the volcano islet. Nobody important was lost, he'd been told. Not worth stopping. They'd been moving on his order. He'd put all of them there. Nobody blamed him - at least not outwardly - but by the gods, it was his fault. People should blame him. They should care. Instead he seemed to be the only one still thinking about it, dreaming of Blair, Vera, and other dragons with no proper form pulling their burned and water-bloated bodies to the rocky shore, and to him. He hadn't realized he'd started pacing until an aggravated hiss snapped him out of his reverie. He stumbled, narrowly avoiding stepping on the small, green-eyed banescale just in front of him. "Mitzi! Why are you out here?" he snapped, trying to hide his embarrassment at being so caught off guard. "With the wind like this you - you could get blown away." The fledgling dragon jutted her chin out and fixed him with a glare that was more withering than should have been possible. "Why are you out here? You're not doing anything," she paused. "And I'm hungry. And bored. And lonely. And -" "Why didn't you play with your siblings?" "Didn't wanna." "...Or anyone else." "They're all gone." "What? Mitzi, there's no way everyone is gone," Ciron shook his head. "Everyone who isn't gone is busy!" the banescale whined. "They all left to get a boat and they took all the rations with them. Pox an' Flicker were watching us but they were too busy talking to play or anything." "Does Pox know you're gone?" "Nah," Mitzi cocked her head to the side. "I don't think so. Maybe by now." "Mitzi," Ciron began, trying to sound stern. It clearly didn't have much effect. "Mitzi..." "So will you come back with me? And make me some food?" "...Fine."

[inshadowofthegods]

Seasons

"Feel up to walking?" "Hm?" Veldr squinted blearily, unable to make out much in the dim cave. But as he lifted his head, he found that he was, in fact, feeling much better. He carefully got to his feet, staggering slightly before nodding. "Yeah, think so." "Good! Because I'm shipping out," Elysium replied simply, now clearly in view as she lit a lantern. "You can come with, if you want, but either way you're going to want to get out of here - I'm taking the supplies with me." "I'm going with her," Silverbell intoned, flitting over to stand beside her. "Then I should probably g - " "You should come too," the fae interrupted. "You've been... kind. You deserve... a nice place." "And I know my leader will be curious about you," Elysium added, cocking her head to the side. "And that little magic burst of yours." "Your leader?" "Clan leader," she nodded. "Back in the Gladewilds. The eruptions have stopped, as best as I can tell, and that means it's time to get the hell out of here and go back home." "...Why were you out here anyway?" he asked. Elysium looked surprised by the question. "Well..." she sighed, then scoffed and shook her head. "Let's call it a trade mission gone very, very wrong." She paused, then clapped her hands together. "So! Bell and I are leaving tonight! Are you coming?" "I..." Veldr stammered for a moment, thinking. "...I owe you one, so if you want me there, I'll go." "Great! Then help me pack."

**** The discovery of the the banescales - and the meat they brought back to camp - was seen as something of a miracle. Ciron should have seen it coming - or well, he supposed he did, somewhat - but it still made his skin crawl. ...And, admittedly, it made him wonder, too - in spite of how he tried to push the thought away. Was there something to what this group believed? And what was he going to do? He, unfortunately, didn't know the answer to either.

****

Life went on. Reika and Tarot built their forge, and soon the clan's extant weapons were strengthened, and new ones were built from the ores Marshall had carefully excavated. Seasons came and went, the children grew to be hunters and warriors in their own right, and new ones were born as well. They had become a proper clan, self-sustaining for the mostpart, and strong in numbers. There had been talks of naming it as well. They still searched, most certainly. They always kept an eye out for any hint of Ciron when they could, but over time the urgency waned. Priorities shifted. Everyone had moved on, for the mostpart. Though, not Saerun. It hadn't been the same since that day, and even Edan rarely saw her now. She spent days at a time away from their home, and hardly spoke when she was present - though she always brought back whatever food and supplies she'd picked up along the way. Occasionally, they'd share her and Ciron's old room on those nights. Simply existing in the same space, on opposite beds. He wasn't sure if it was how she was... mourning, for a lack of better term, embarrassment, or something else, but he could feel they were drifting apart. It hurt, but there wasn't much to be done about it. It felt like at some point, she simply wouldn't return at all. Some part of him was saying it was time he moved on, too.

[inshadowofthegods]

Embers

It had occurred to Ciron that, in spite of all the time he'd spent in the Earthshaker's domain, he'd never really done much digging. He'd also come to the realization that he wasn't particularly good at it, and that he definitely didn't like it. The pearlcatcher suppressed a cough, knowing that if he did, he'd inhale more of the foul ash and make it even harder to breathe as he tried to reach the actual ground. He could hear Geron clawing into the ground nearby, clearly having no difficulty thanks to his size. As for Valsig and Pox, well, he couldn't really tell. He couldn't hear them and with how much dust had been kicked up he couldn't see much of anything at all. He paused, briefly considering how pointless his being there was. The ash began to flow back downward, filling the meagre hole he'd managed to carve out. He swore, choked on the air, and stumbled backward in a coughing fit. From up above, he heard a sharp laugh. Valsig, evidently, had been watching the whole time. And then came another rumbling, but this time, it was almost deafening. Valsig was no longer laughing, and Ciron noticed a strange light on his face. "Under the shelter," he said, his voice growing more urgent with each syllable. "Back. Under. The shelter. Now!" Ciron had barely had time to even turn toward the lean-to before the ridgeback was upon him. He was under the stone shelter before he registered what was happening, with Pox quickly tossed next to him. Geron and Valsig shoved their way in and braced against the wall and ceiling, and in moments he heard the sound of rock hitting rock. The ground shook. He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but the eruptions and outfall seemed to come in waves, and whenever he thought it might have been safe, it would happen again. He was certain hours passed before the ridgeback and guardian finally began to relax, and it was Geron who first stepped out from under the lean-to, flexing his wings and groaning. "Gods damn, I hate the Flamecaller an' her godsdamned volcanoes," he croaked, shaking his head. "Don't any o' you touch the - actually, you're fire. You'll be fine." Ciron stepped back out, Pox following shortly after. As Valsig slipped out after them, the shelter collapsed with a loud thud. "This ain't worth it," Geron huffed, frowning as he gazed around at the rocks - ranging from pebbles to boulders, some still glowing with heat. "What if one of the bigger ones had smacked down on our little prince, huh? Then who's necks are on the line?" "We can't really head back empty clawed though, can we?" Valsig snorted in reply. "We can. Better than not headin' back at all," Geron grumbled in reply, and within moments the two giant dragons were bickering. It was then that Ciron noticed Pox was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't noticed her slipping off anywhere, and his retainers were certainly still oblivious. He briefly considered whether she was trying to make a proper break for it - and whether to stop her for her own sake or just let her go - when he saw her stumble out from behind one of the still-standing walls with something clutched to her chest. She quickly tucked it in the folds of the scarf around her neck - Ciron was fairly sure he saw the chain of a necklace. "Well fine then, let's just start turning over rocks and looking for lizards and all that bull -" Pox's gaze was utterly fixed on Valsig and Geron arguing as she hurried back. She didn't notice Ciron staring at her until she'd almost run into him. She staggered, letting out a small gasp which was enough to catch Valsig's attention. The ridgeback turned to face them, raising a brow. "So... are we going or not?" Ciron asked, trying to sound casual - and a bit annoyed, for good measure. Valsig opened and shut his mouth, considering before flicking out a wing in exasperation. "Fine, yeah, we're going. There might be more eruptions, and this was a godsdamned bust anyway, let's get the hell out of here." "Finally," Geron deadpanned, plodding his way out of the ruins and waiting expectantly. They all followed suit, Valsig carefully avoiding the superheated rock that littered the area as they began the trek home. They were about halfway back to camp, as best as Ciron could guess. Ash fell from the sky like snow, and had already begun to cover the new rubble that had fallen. This made trying to find any particular landmarks utterly hopeless - so all he really had to go on was how much time he felt passed. It had felt like a very long time. Valsig and Geron had spoken very little since their previous spat, and seemed to be having some difficulty discerning the way back as well, so he wasn't even particularly convinced they were going the right way at that point. Pox occasionally snuck confused glances in his direction, evidently trying to judge just why he hadn't said anything. As if he could give a reason. The pearlcatcher had been making a point of looking away, tempering his discomfort as best he could throughout the long, silent trek. But then, something caught his eye. He certainly wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't happened to be staring exactly in its direction, but there was something still smouldering, and it was a different colour than the rest of the land. "Hey! Hey," he said, stopping and pointing a wing. "Hold on, there's something over here." Valsig turned, then briefly shifted to his hind legs to get a better look before hurrying off where Ciron had indicated. "Well, well, well!" the ridgeback exclaimed, beckoning for them to follow and calling out. "We won't be empty-clawed after all!" Ciron broke into a trot, Geron nudging Pox along behind him. He wasn't immediately sure what he was looking at, but he smelled burnt meat, so he could make some assumptions about the charred mess in front of him. "Looks like one of the rocks landed right on 'em," Valsig laughed, pulling a carcass free and dragging the entire thing into one of his bags. "Cooked the damn things, even!" "What are they?" Ciron asked hesitantly, unable to tell from the charred hide. "They're not dragons, are they?" "Dragons?" Valsig exclaimed. "Of course they're not dragons, y' little i prince - " "Rambra herd, looks like," Geron rumbled as he moved forward, preparing his own bags. "We needed meat. Grab as much as you can carry." Pox silently began to pull away what salvageable meat she could from one of the poor beasts the rock had actually hit on impact, and Ciron moved to one that was simply on the ground nearby. He wasn't sure what had killed it, at first, but it also smelled faintly... cooked. But when he reached to flip it over, he was met with a flurry of tiny wings, and furious screeches. He screamed, leaping backwards and shielding his face as his minute assailants clawed at it. Without thinking, he breathed out a puff of fire, and it all stopped. He moved his claws from his eyes hesitantly, then looked down at the trio of small creatures who were simply staring back at him in some quiet awe. He must've not actually managed to hit them with his fire, which he was suddenly glad for.

"Are these... dragons?" he asked, watching as the three tiny things just sat there, evidently mesmerized by his eyes. "I don't... know," Valsig replied slowly. Geron said nothing at all. "They - I think those are banescales," Pox exclaimed, rushing over to see. "They look just like what they said in our old stories - but - they're extinct. They've been extinct for, I don't even know, hundreds upon hundreds of years." One of the creatures, the largest, seemed to be over its surprise and turned back to gnaw on the rambra's haunch. "What do we do with them?" Geron asked. "Might be banescales, might just be some dragon-looking creature - we have a lot of those." "I think they're hatchlings," Pox said, peering down at the two that were still focused on Ciron. "I think... if they had a parent around, we'd know by now." "We should probably take them," Ciron said. "It's what - it's what the caravan I was part of would do, anyway." "More mouths to feed," Valsig sighed, then shrugged. "But sure, why not. I'd like to know what these things are, might be quite the discovery."

[inshadowofthegods]

Greyscale

Pox walked ahead of them, though not by far. Ciron still didn’t know what to make of her behaviour, or even why she was there at all. Geron and Valsig obviously knew the way to whatever ruin they were headed to - even correcting the silent skydancer whenever they felt she was veering the wrong way. It was rare for either of the massive dragons to acknowledge him at all, aside from a few sideways glances. The sky was as dark and unreadable as when they left, but he was certain they’d been walking for hours through the ash and lifeless scrub. Hunger had begun to gnaw at him, but the young pearlcatcher thought it better to wait for his colossal retainers to make the call to stop. He wasn’t particularly eager to eat more dried seaweed anyhow. There was more distant rumbling, and the ground beneath his feet subtly shifted with it. Pox staggered, more from alarm than actual loss of balance, and Valsig pressed his long thumbclaw against her back to urge her along. “Keep going, girl. No shelter here.” Geron snorted in amusement as the skydancer stumbled forward, thrown off balance by the ridgeback’s nudge. She caught herself quickly and resumed walking, this time at a more hurried pace. “How much further now?” Ciron finally asked, if only to get their attention off of her. “I don’t see any sign of ruins to the north.” “I can see ‘em now,” Valsig replied, nodding toward what looked like nothing more than a subtle hill far on the horizon. Ciron squinted, trying to make out any more detail - but the sky was so murky that it blended near seamlessly with the ground. “It’s a cave?” he finally asked. “Nah,” the ridgeback laughed in a quick, unpleasant bark. He paused, and then added in a more thoughtful tone: “…Well, it basically is now. The ashfall’s really covered all the rubble up. And we’ll be looking for buried caches - ” “I already told you there’s nothing there!” Pox snapped, exasperation clear in her tone. “And why in Sornie would we believe you?” Geron replied, his deep, rumbling voice sounding bored. “Your clan was well-established, and any clan that lasts for so long has stores of food, medicines…” “Probably some nice stashes of treasure, too,” Valsig chimed in. Pox stayed turned away from them all, hiding her expression, though Ciron saw her wing feathers ruffle in the same way Saerun’s did when she was holding something back. The great mound of ash loomed ahead, with Ciron gradually starting to make out hints of ruined buildings poking out toward its edges. Similarly, he noticed that the skeletons of trees dotting the area were set in unnatural patterns, as if they’d been carefully planted there. Valsig took the lead for the first time since they’d left, spreading his wings and fanning them to dislodge what ash he could. Ciron could only blink in surprise as the sheer vastness of the destroyed village became evident; even the uncovered portion dwarfed any other settlement he’d seen. He stepped forward to get a better look, only realizing he’d come shoulder to shoulder with Pox when he heard the skydancer let out something between a cough and sob. He carefully glanced sideways, inspecting the look on her face. The grief she wore was plain to see, at least until she noticed him and it changed to stoicism - mixed with some anger at him being so close to her. There was an awful scraping and shifting that took both their attention, and Ciron saw with some surprise that Valsig and Geron had lifted a massive segment of fallen wall and were in the process of bracing it against one of the few support pillars left standing in the ruined town. A few more minutes of them hauling rubble and the colossal lean-to seemed to be secured, not shifting at all when Valsig gave it a strong shove. Still, Ciron eyed it warily: it would easily crush several dragons his size should it collapse. “That’ll do,” Valsig stated, sharing a quick, pleased nod with Geron. His smile remained, but darkened as he turned to the two smaller dragons. “Come over, highness, girl. We’ll take a quick lunch, and then it’s time for some digging.”

[inshadowofthegods]

Packed Up

It was early morning when Ciron rose. At least, he assumed it was based on the amount of dragons milling about. The sky was still a mottled mix of grey and black; if the sun was up, it was completely obscured by ash. He rose and strode out of his tent, quietly making his way toward the bonfire that marked the centre of the encampment. The heavy scent of salt and cooking seafood wafted through the air, both from fish fillets carefully wrapped in seaweed and hanging on a spit above the flames, and a mix of crab and mussels that bubbled away in a large pot. One of the dragons tending to the food noticed his presence and dashed over, quickly pressing a wooden plate stacked with various forms of grilled seaweed into his hand before rushing back to their post by at the fireside. The bordering sea had solved some of their food problems - he was certainly no longer facing starvation, as unpleasant as he found his dish - but not everyone could survive off what was dredged from the ocean. As he silently ate his breakfast, Ciron watched as two massive dragons made their way over through the gloom, one nudging a much smaller figure along just in front of them. In the firelight, he recognized it as Pox, a skydancer that had recently been brought to the clan. He didn't know the names of the other two - a ridgeback and guardian - but he had often seen them working closely with his father. Once again, one of the dragons tending the fire rushed over to deliver plates - this time heaped with an almost inordinate amount of fish - to them. The ridgeback held up a claw and tutted. "Hey, hey... a plate for the lady, too," he said in a slow, mildly amused sounding drawl. "She'll need her energy for our trip later." The guardian laughed between mouthfuls of fish. Pox didn't react much, avoiding looking at anyone even as a plate was pressed into her hands. She ate silently, and Ciron couldn't tell if she was frightened or seething. The ridgeback abruptly straightened his posture, focused on who Ciron turned to see was Altiel approaching. "Oi boss, we're just about ready to go." "Wings clipped?" Altiel asked simply, nodding toward Pox, who was staring down at the ground. "Yep, tidied them up just today," the ridgeback confirmed with a nod. "Packs loaded too - we're just waiting on provisions." There was some panicked motion by the fire as several of the dragons working there hurried to pull down and pack dried fish and seaweed before Altiel could say anything. The ridgeback smirked. "P-provisions for me, as well," Ciron blurted, hurrying toward the group. "I'll be going as well." "What? You don't even know where we're going, bo- " the guardian began, only to be cut off by an audible kick from his ridgeback companion. "What Ger means to say is we'd be happy to have the little prince along," the ridgeback said flatly. "Can always use an extra set of claws on a scavenging gig." Altiel was silent for a moment, giving Ciron an appraising look before nodding. "Very well. Put on an extra set of satchels from the supply tent. You should all head out in the next half hour." "Thank you, father," Ciron said, letting out a quiet relieved sigh before turning to face the rest of the group. The ridgeback wore a false smile as he gazed back, and the guardian looked rather grumpy from the whole exchange. Pox had raised her head, and eyed him with something between suspicion and confusion. "Well, go on, highness," the ridgeback urged, jabbing his hooked talon toward a tent off to the right. "Get those bags on and we'll go.”

[inshadowofthegods]

Bright Spots

The first thing he was aware of was a dull, flickering light. Veldr didn't know why his heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, even as he opened his eyes and found that he couldn't focus them at all. He tried to raise his head and his vision swam, the light suddenly splitting into dozens of separate points and dancing mockingly around him as he dropped back down. It was all at once far too bright, and his head was pounding. Why couldn't he remember anything? For a brief moment, he wondered if he was hung over - but the moment he tried to stand and felt that same white-hot pain shoot through his entire body, he knew something else was wrong. "Well, what do you know?" an unfamiliar voice remarked. He couldn't see whoever spoke at all, even as his vision stopped swimming. He could finally tell he was lying facing a lantern in an otherwise fairly dark room. "How are you feeling?" the voice asked, and Veldr tried again to sit up and see who was speaking - only to immediately collapse once more. "I really wouldn't try that right now," the speaker said. "I wasn't sure you'd pull through at all, with how ripped apart you were - let alone the uh, poison." "Wh -" Veldr stammered before vague memories of the previous event began to come to him. He tried again to stand as panic overtook him. "Where's Bell?" "For Keeper's sake, your fae friend's fine! She finally fell asleep not long ago," the voice hissed, clearly exasperated. "She'd been keeping vigil nonstop since I dragged you here, so stop thrashing around before you wake her or make yourself worse!" Veldr settled, his last shred of energy fading away as relief overtook him. "Who are you?" he asked, suddenly aware that even his throat hurt. He groaned, furrowing his brow and trying to blink his vision into focus. He finally saw a figure approaching from the gloom, revealed to be draconic and mostly purple in colouration as she reached lantern light. She was mostly pearlcatcher-shaped. "My name is Elysium," she said, and he flinched at how suddenly bright green eyes met his own. He heard swirling liquid as she held out what he presumed was a crude clay cup. "Can you hold this, or will you need help?" "You're a nature dragon?" he asked. She just gave him a quizzical look and pushed the cup into his talon. "It'll taste a bit muddy. It's fine though, I boiled it," she shrugged. "Not much fresh water out here." It was more difficult to bring the cup to his mouth than he'd expected - his muscles simply didn't want to work, burning with each slight movement - but Veldr drank it all down. The taste hit him afterward and he shuddered, dragging his tongue against his teeth to try and scrape the residue off. "Yea, I know," Elysium said, sympathy in her tone. "You need it though, you must be horribly dehydrated." Veldr managed a grunt in reply as he set the cup down next to him. He still felt like his skull was about to split. "How long was I out for?" he asked, shutting his eyes to try and manage the pain. "About a day and a half, I think," she replied. "I've only gone to the surface briefly so I'm not positive. We needed most of that time to put you back together though, honestly. You're lucky you weren't awake for that." They were both silent for a few minutes after that, Veldr lying there weakly as he felt the other dragon's eyes on him. After some minutes passed, she spoke again. "...How did you do it, anyway?" "Do what?" he asked thickly, opening his eyes to find Elysium staring with unnerving fascination. "Kill them," she replied, gesturing vaguely as if that was all the elaboration he needed. "What?" "The serthis!" she said incredulously. "They were all just... dead around you in a ring, and I couldn't see a scratch on any of them. What did you do?" Veldr opened his mouth, let out an uncertain noise, and shut it again. "I... didn't do anything." Elysium now looked just as confused as he felt. "Maybe... something else came by and... killed them?" he suggested, though he knew that was just as ludicrous. "The fae said she could hear serthis talking, and uh, stabbing, and then there was a bright light and it all went silent," Elysium said slowly. "There's no way something else showed up and then ran off before she got there." "I don't know," Veldr said helplessly. "I really don't - that doesn't make sense." "Damn it. I was hoping you knew some way to - I don't know... they've all been acting crazy since the eruptions started. They used to just keep to their territory and warn you away, but now..." Elysium let out a harsh sigh and reached to take his cup. "Don't worry about it for now. I've been picking your brain when you need rest. Just... try to sleep. I need to, too." She stood, setting the cup on a small slab of wood Veldr could just make out before vanishing into the gloom just beyond.

[inshadowofthegods]

Evening

Edan was really too tired for a party. He didn't have much in the way of energy for them even at the best of times, let alone after a day of solid travel. But seeing Ila's delighted - and somewhat desperate - smile as he walked in the door quickly put the thoughts of collapsing into bed out of his mind. Company was already on the way, after all. So instead, he'd spent his first few hours working in the cellar, hanging and processing as much of he and Reika's catches as he could before everything started. He'd only managed about a third by the time everyone had arrived. Solveig looked so different when he saw them. Older, he supposed - and a bit wilder, somehow, their mane long and unkempt, and horns chipped and buffeted. It was nothing compared to their sons and daughters, of course. He'd hardly even seen the youngest two, but they already were almost grown up; far cries from the feeble, sickly hatchlings that had survived the terrible flu that took their clutchmates. The oldest girls were vibrant, excited, and talking Ila's ears off as they helped her cook, and Eldin sat quietly with his mother, nursing new scars he'd sustained out caravanning. She gently sung to herself as she bandaged them. Aika and Clara lay side by side on a blanket spread out over the frozen ground, evidently trying to teach Ryla and Cedar, Sol's youngest son, how to weave. Hazel was attempting to show Magni and the golden twins how to build forts out of snow while Poe, Snowdrop, and Marshall all worked to dig proper pathways through it. Espen was at least outside with the others, milling about, though it was clear her mood was still dour. It was obvious she missed Ciron - the two had been relatively close - but she was trying, Edan supposed. He wondered how many others were still feeling the loss so keenly; it was getting harder to tell, and nobody really wanted to bring it up. Well, there was 'Run, of course. Of course... Edan wasn't surprised to see she wasn't outside, but it still gave him pause. Food was brought out, and his clanmates began to eat. Ila had made a wonderful dinner; it was somewhat more extravagant than the get-together a year prior, and he had a feeling she was trying to outdo herself. Or maybe she was just trying to make things feel normal, like back then. He didn't know. Rorin came stomping out of the main house, head low to the ground and tail lashing. Edan briefly switched to his second sight and scanned the forest, wondering if the other mirror had seen something out in the trees. But, no. There was nothing, and when Edan looked back in confusion he found that the other male's furious gaze was on him - but the moment they made eye contact, he turned away. What in tarnation. Edan stood and walked toward the other mirror, who seemed to wilt somewhat in response. "Problem, Rorin?" he asked, brisk but polite in spite of his confusion. "No, nothing," Rorin slowly shook his head, still avoiding Edan's gaze as he turned. "...Saerun wants to see you," he added, mumbling something unintelligible before walking off once more. Edan raised a brow as he watched him wander away. Some part of him wanted to ask what the hell was going on with him, but he didn't have the energy. Instead, well... he supposed he'd make Saerun up a plate.

[inshadowofthegods]

Wretch

"Hey, d'you think you're coming out?" Rorin's voice came, reedy as always in spite of being muffled through the wooden door. "Things are starting up out here." Saerun frowned, pulling her legs in closer and resting her head on her arm, idly twirling the wine bottle held loosely in her hand. She could tell he was right; she could smell freshly cooked food, baked bread, and some sort of sweet confection she couldn't quite identify. Aside from that, she was fairly sure she could hear singing from just outside the house. One of Solveig's kids, she presumed - nobody she knew sounded like that. Evidently, Ila had chosen to throw a proper party that evening. That certainly didn't appeal to her. She'd never been a fan of parties, especially not in her adult life; the sounds and crowds had always made her uneasy. Even among friends as she was, the thought of either dragging everyone's mood down with her, or pretending everything was fine was exhausting, to say the least. And those were certainly the only options. Briefly, she wondered how many others were just going through the motions. She could feel the anxiety that simmered in the clan, though she'd not been out to put faces to it, or to pinpoint the reasons why. "...I'd love to eat dinner with you," Rorin added, barely audible. At that, she couldn't hold back a derisive snort. Good lord, you have no idea. No idea how little you actually want that, she thought with bitter amusement - though it quickly faded as she felt the echo of his hurt pass through, shooting down her antennae like an electric shock and leaving the vague but unignorable feeling of being slapped in the face. Guess he heard her. It proved her point, really. Still, she couldn't help but feel slightly bad at the fact. "I'll pass," she replied, her own voice thicker and words more slurred than she expected. She cleared her throat. "...Thanks, though." "'Kay," Rorin replied, still with that strained, quiet tone she had to strain to hear over everything else. He was quiet for some minutes after that, but she could tell he hadn't actually left. Haphazard mixes of frustration, confusion, and even jealousy leeched in through the door. It would have been somewhat disconcerting if she wasn't becoming so annoyed by the whole affair. "...Edan is back," he finally said, his voice tense and a bit louder than before. "I'm sure he'd like to see you." So that's what this is, she thought, at once angered and amused by whatever this boy had concocted in his own mind. She certainly didn't feel bad for him anymore. She wasn't sure whether she was going to shout at him or laugh in response until she opened her mouth, but it turned out to be the latter. "Well, tell him he's free to come visit if that's true." Finally, the young mirror left, his heavy footfalls disappearing into the distant party murmur and music. Saerun felt a bit lighter as the miasma of his foul mood finally dissipated. She wasn't sure how she felt about him anymore. All her former hunting companion had been doing recently was getting on her nerves; trying to get closer in a way that made her want to... she didn't really know how to put it. Yell at him? Chase him off. Peel off her skin? Something in that range. She didn't need to be an empath to be aware of his annoying little crush - as if the pleading and possessiveness didn't give it away - but it had been easier to play dumb. Until recently, anyway. Still, she couldn't fathom why he did. Slim pickings, probably. Mixed with some... grotesque hero complex. It disgusted her, but she supposed why didn't matter much. She lay back, taking a long swig from the bottle and, once more, laughing bitterly to herself. No accounting for bad taste, after all.