To leave behind Aeternum had lifted something off the dragon’s chest, it seems. Because he feels his chest less constricted. It’s a feeling he can recognise in Yana’s face too. In the curl at the corners of her lips that Daeron knows to be a smile. She has her legs kicked up on the nearest empty seat, red eyes looking out the window with some longing.
Neither of them loves the aircrafts. Daeron suspects that might be a mutually shared feeling by all dragons. It feels wrong, somehow, to be trapped in a metal can that’s hardly half your true size and yet it fies you. Offence raised up quick in his chest and Daeron showed none of it on his face.
Sammael on other hand has no problems voicing his thoughts. And he has them.
His pet has talked off the ear of anyone that’s willing or unwilling to listen but had the mishap to be in the close vicinity. Daeron’s initial concern for Sammael’s well being had been brief. Once the witch was wrapped in enough fur that ensured he was as well dressed as he could be the dragon cared very little about what other offences the halfling managed to bring up.
His latest whine brought an actual smile on Daeron’s mouth. One that’s saved just for his whining. It’s barely a twist on the line of his lip, almost always accompanied by a sharp jerk of his brows and the look on his eye is patiently mocking.
“Faith forbids the most important of them freeze first.” The dragon narrowed his head. “What use would we have of you then.”
He can see his sister turning her head just a little, trying to hide a smile. The guard that’s been chosen to make sure Sammael arrives at Adrahil living and breathing tossed them both a look and decides it’s the perfect time to scram. She seems to think Sammael is amusing in that way Daeron recognises in most of his people, and the way Sammael thinks is yet another thing to grumble at.
The dragon is hardly surprised, the witch has a lot to learn about their ways, but he’ll learn and Daeron is patient.
“You’ll get used to it.” The cold had a way of growing on you, eventually, it just settled deep in your bones. You could fight it or accept it, and only one of those paths was manageable. His mother had made sure to ingrain those words in her son’s enough that Daeron now had trouble thinking of them as anything other but his own.
The ship rocked to a bumpy dock, the back door opened with a hiss of releasing pressure.
“If your witch slows us down I am going to eat him. Frozen or not,” Yana noted when she moved past them, the seriousness of her tone might have made the jest behind an elusive thing to Sammael but Daeron saw it as just the moment to look at the pet and arch a brow.
Dragon humor might take some getting used to as well.
“Come on. It’s at least an hour ride to the castle.” He prompted him stepping outside. The horses, strong legged mounts with thick fur stepped from one leg to another impatient. Above them, Adrahil’s tops were lost in the white clouds.
Their relievement had not gone as unnoticed as the others may have thought it did. He had observed it during his attempt to distract himself from their great height, but he had seen how it had been replaced by annoyance. All of the dragon’s who had come with Daeron had the same appearance of annoyance —- almost offense of their current mode of travel. He had wisely held his tongue during the trudge forward toward their homeland. It could always been used for another time against the dragon.
Sammael had felt heavy with the furs and frozen until he had seen that smile Daeron often wore around him. His blood boiled and the glare he aimed could kill if it had the power. “I’ll just show you how useful I can be when they’re pulling my foot out of your ass,” the witch snapped back. Sammael folded his arms tightly about his broad chest as if he were a stubborn child.
It made the guard, Zyia, softly chuckle before she had tossed them both a look. He watches her leave him and wanders if he’d ever see her again.
His attentions are drawn back to Daeron. “You’ll get used to it,” parroted the witch. He looks offended at the notion that he had to get used to the ice at all. He wondered what could even survive in the frost besides the dragon’s who were so filled with hot air they should be floating. He attempts to grip the fur’s tighter around his form. The fear of what winter would be like in the climate made him feel like he had already frozen to death. “You couldn’t be like the other lizards and rule over something more tropical. Maybe somewhere near the ocean? You would rule over something like this.”
Sammael halted his onslaught when Yana’s threat to eat him registered with him. He grunted and stared at the fog that formed from his heated breath as it exited his lips. “I’ll make sure you choked on me on the way down,” he mutters with no care if either dragon overhears him or not. He glares at her when she moved past him. He hoped she slipped and fell.
He hoped they all slipped and fell. Into a frozen lake filled with dragon eating fish. What had been those fish Daeron once told him about? Sharks? He hoped there were dragon eating sharks. “The witch has a name too,” he adds under his breath.
Sammael turns and follows them only coming to a stop at the sight of the tall and rather impressive animals. Most things seemed taller than Sammael but those that seemed to come from Adrahil seemed near giant. Suddenly, the witch forgot he was cold as he shakes his head and backs away from the great beasts. “I’m not getting on those things,” he states, “Why can’t we just get back on the airship and fly to the top?” He didn’t like that idea either. His brows knitted together as he gestures at the horses, “I’ve never been on one of those fuckin’ things in my entire life.”
