12h
The clearing is ringed with hawthorn trees, framing the dragon curled beneath their shelter in white and green bloom. White petals erupt from their rest in the grass as Elizabeth whirls through, kicking up the lingering sour smell of the flowers. Scylla had not been sleeping soundly; she lifts her head the instant she hears footsteps, luminous amber eyes at once alert. Severely, she examines Elizabeth for injury, then gasps and exclaims in delight, “Don’t you look fine! Not that you wear a uniform poorly, mind, but—oh!—what a pretty color!”
Commission for @boltlightning, from her very excellent PotC + Temeraire crossover fic deadfall 🩵
