Anara came down from her fighting stance slowly, the air huffing out of her as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Tonight was turning much more taxing than she'd expected, and she was already tired after the long flight—fatigue certainly made up half of Inirath's anger. The thunder dragon was more reluctant to relax even a fraction, her spines standing straight out and the air still carrying the scent of thunderstorms.

"Axon," she said, and her voice belied the exhaustion her posture hid. "This is not a popularity stunt, or a good will trip, or—we are not here to prove that we can be good, or to get people to like us. We're here because our mission is necessary. So while I appreciate that you're honest about your motives, just—"

Keltor sighed again, before dropping her hand and squaring her shoulders. "I am going to be asleep in an hour," she said flatly, looking between all those assembled. "You can come to the camp, it's not like this island is a secret. We'll decide what to do—in the morning." The [i]decide what to do with you[/i] went unspoken. "If you cause any fights in the meantime, though, I can tell you right now what will happen—you will return to Caerel or stay here, but you will not be following us."

She turned her back on them and headed back for the camp, laying her hand against Inirath's silver scales for a moment. The thunder dragon rumbled angrily for a moment, before her rider calmed her enough that the great beast turned, returning to the dip in the stone that she'd claimed for her bed. Both rider and dragon, however, still gave off static shocks to the touch—acquiescent though she may seem, Anara was far from pleased.