Drache

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

Ortha's fighting style was a whirlwind of black limbs and septic jaws, her armour plated skin clanking and scraping against rough stone and the bones of the animated skeleton as she more crushed it than found genuine purchase with either of her deadly maws. All four of her eyes were filled with a mad sort of glee in the fight, though she was slightly put out that Echo achieved the killing blow before she did. The odd pair of animal side-kicks had been through a lot together.

Even when the skeleton went limp, its eerie artificial life gone, the Balauradon dragged it away, savagaging it back and forth with wet snarls, both head working together to break it apart until grisly flecks of bone and dry marrow littered the ground around her. And inside her head, shared only with Kona and Rilana, was a litany of gruesome cheerful cursing that must have been genetic because Rilana never talked like that!

Staring balefully out of his freshly-injured face, Kona leaned down and dispatched the crawling torso with an almost clinical precision, his beak clacking neatly to sever joint and tendon. He left the aged greenish skull to snap uselessly at him as the catbird stepped neatly over it, his elegant furred tail twitching as he left a steaming pile of scat all over it. Seeking out Rilana, he growled hatefully at the red glow in Moira's eyes, worried and angry about his Druid's old friend. He began to creep around the other side of the shard, slinking low, his spotted plumage doing him no favours here.

The sensation of power behind her felt oppressive, like a terrible bonfire radiating against her back, but Rilana didn't tear her eyes away from Svarak's. The feeling of dread struck through her like a chord, leaving the Moon Fey certain that death would strike at any moment. She was woefully unprepared for all of this, and unsuited to be here, but she had known the terrible burden her Lord Knight had carried even before she'd chosen to give him her heart, and so she'd see this through to the end.

But he wasn't slipping away from her. His feline eyes sharpened, the wild fervor replaced by shrewd anger and determination. He was back, and Rilana only had time to smile sadly as his nose rubbed against hers before he was shoving her around, putting himself between her and Moira. The clatter of bones was growing nearer, but then something white and glossy fell, pulled to her lips by a quick breath before fluttering down. Knowing who it belonged to, Rilana looked up, seeing the raven in a different form entirely.

Moira's voice, so hateful and cruel, seemed to echo around the cavern. But the impact she expected never came, negated by whatever power Ayakari commanded.

Kona snorted. Of course.

The Moon Fey just shook her head. "I should have known." As soon as Svarak danced away from her, Rilana rushed towards Kona, bending low to neatly scoop the last remaining feather from the ground. The Null Stone had acted like an effigy this time, and Rilana was more certain now than she'd ever been that the sassy, back-talking raven would never be one of her Familiars, but she also doubted that the feather had been left on accident.

Together, she and Kona backed away from the Null Stone, and Rilana gave a short, woeful gasp as Svarak knocked Moira out cold. She'd have to remind herself later to thank him for showing some restraint. Braced against Kona, Rilana gave him a nod when the Charr briefly looked back, her hand clutched in the gryphon's black and white feathers. How strange was it that she had never known Juloya in the chillborn human's life, had only spoken to her through strange visions and ancient magic, but now felt a great swell of sorrow at what must be done? Like losing a friend? The moon fey struggled against the injustice of losing someone so selfless, desperately trying to see some other way, and realized that Svarak had likely spent the last three hundred years trying to imagine another away.

You'll always carry a piece of her, Kona muttered. The best thing you can do for her is not forget what she did for all of us.

The sound of the stone being pierced by a sliver of itself was indescribable. Rilana and Kona both winced against the brightness. Even Ortha turned to look, chunks of bone dangling from her lips as she squinted briefly at the brilliant light. Rilana held her breath, the invigorating power pouring through her so that she felt she might explode.

For the Druid, it was as though she could suddenly, for a few brief moments, sense every living thing nearby in excrutiating detail. Everything from the tiny insects huddled in their crevices of rock to the strange purple moss to the furry bats clinging to the roofs of tunnels far above. Heartbeats thundered in her ears and she was tempted to reach out and claim them, even the people, to Bind them to her on and all. It was then that Rilana had a taste of how truly powerful a Druid could become.

But then it was gone, though the world would never be the same, and Rilana's eyes were full of the sight of Svarak slumping down to the ground. "It's done," he was muttering, looking exhausted but very much alive.

"Kona, what happened to your face?" She asked, holding his beak and tilting the gryphon's face until he squawked angrily and shook her off. "That will need to be looked at." It would heal if she Marked him, but everything was still so uncertain.

She left Ortha to snuffle around, poking her heads in dark corners. There were others to be tended to. Alya and Echo seemed positively horrified to her, and though a homunculus was difficult to read Rilana thought he looked exhausted. She continued to avoid Drisceya, simply taking note that the drow was now missing an arm. And the rest were dead.

Look for a way out of here. Perhaps the rest of the Council is here. And my family.

Moving over towards Svarak, Rilana knelt down to check Moira, rolling the older fey over and checking her for injuries other than the bump on her head. Together, she and Kona managed to maneuver the limp woman onto the gryphon's back.

"I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary, Svarak. We need to get back to Frigmount to see if Celevar's influence is still causing madness there." She put her hand on his shoulder and eyed the Null Shard, the sword still sticking out of what was now a crystalline sarcophagus. She was worried for her people. But for a moment she gazed down at Svarak with a pointed look. After all of this, they deserved some time.

Ugh.

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

It was so noisy. Kona preferred having his ear tufts filled with naught but the sound of the wind as he soared proudly above the pristine glittering landscape of the Frostfell mountains and glaciers. His wings could keep him in the air for a day and a night without rest, nothing to block his sight but the very horizon itself. But down here, under the hard, cold earth, the northern gryphon felt cramped, his senses battered by chaos. He had seized a gold-sashed skeleton and quickly bore it aloft, ripping at it with his clawed forepaws and slicing at it with his razor-beak. His wingtips brushed the frigid roof above as he looked for a cruel stone to dash his victim against, the muscles in his back straining against the dead air, but the ancient rotted corpse seemed oblvious to what should have been debilitating pain, and a blow to Kona's beaked face forced him to drop his victim. He shook his head as he flew, the head wound bleeding freely, and landed clumsily to rub his face against an icy wall. The blood clotted quickly, smearing brilliant red across the pale white feathers, giving him a gruesome appearance as he hissed against the pain.

Having dispatched her first skeleton, the angered balauradon sought out another, charging after the monsters facing the homunculous to come up on them from behind.

Rilana felt overwhelmed. The sounds of fighting and magic beckoned at her attention, and she had to force herself to focus on the stone, on Juloya, keeping a wary eye on Moira nearby. Svarak's roars, Kona's hiss of pain, Ortha's ferocious snarling, all threatened to divide her attention.

"Stop his change? How could she hope to do that?" She wasn't a match for Svarak, and doubted she could force the charr to do anything he didn't want to do. But his roars took on a new and more terrifying meaning for the Moon Fey as the risk of losing him to his own feral state became a real possibility. At the very least, she decided then that she couldn't assume an animal form now, even though taking refuge behind the hulking shape of a mammoth would have been very comforting right then. Svarak needed to see her, not one of her animal shapes.

The null shard shivered beside her in the air and she looked at his, her expression strangely thoughtful and placid considering everything going on around her. Indeed, she recalled many strong and powerful beings. Some she had met personally on this long, terrible journey, some were vague memories of monsters and gods in stories she had learned as a child. She didn't feel a strong pull towards any of them, until the silver-white silhoutte of the raven flashed across her thoughts, her laughing voice a faint echo. Rilana reached for it, even as she turned away from the stone and stared into Moira's eyes, listening to the harsh voice that slipped past her lips.

She reached for the raven, talking to it as gently as she had spoken to Kona when she had found him as a fledgling in the snow. "You aren't one of mine, as much as I tried. I don't know what you are, but please, help me now."

Moira wasn't Moira anymore. Rilana didn't know if her oldest friend was still alive behind those strange crimson eyes, but already felt pain in her chest as she considered the other Moon Fey another casualty of this strange, terrible battle that had been going on for lifetimes.

"I'm already married," Rilana answered icily, meeting the fiery gaze with her own sapphire stare. It wasn't strictly true, there'd been no ceremony, but it was true in all the ways that mattered. With that, she turned and ran, leaving the floating piece of the shard to do whatever it was going to do. In her mind, she coddled whatever essence she carried of Juloya, accepting it as she had done with Kona, with Ortha.

"Svarak!" She wanted him to see her, before it was too late. Before he couldn't remember, couldn't care, who she was or what she meant to him. Heedless of the danger, her pale boots carried her swiftly across the chamber to the almost-feral Charr. He was magnificent, as usual, and terrible, which she'd seen before. Her eyes flicked to the grievous wound on his belly and she knew that if time hadn't already been against them, it was now, swiftly, running out. "Svarak, look at me." Authoritative, in spite of her diminutive size

Not giving him much choice, she reached for his furry cheeks and forced his head up, meeting his golden cat's eyes. "Focus, my love. Don't forget who you are and why you're here. You have to finish this! You're the only one who can, and then when you're done we'll have all the time in the world." She was crying now, her heart in her throat, betraying her fear and her hopelessness. But her fingertips stroked through the charr's fur up to his ears and she leaned close, softly kissing his gory nose.

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

The slightly muffled sounds of outrage from Ortha's vilemaw shivered up the rotted leg she had clutched in her septic teeth. Worrying at it like a dog with a bone, she readjusted her grip and attempted to wrench it free from the fleshless corpse of the squire. Her plated tail whipped back and forth as she glared up at the former owner of the tibia, the constant litany of growls coming to a shocked silence as the chop of the axe buried the weapon in the thick bony armour on her back.

With vilemaw eyes locked on the undead squire's empty sockets, Ortha turned her firefang head to look back at the weapon. Infuriated by the attack, the juvenile balaruadon bunched her stout legs beneath her and leg go of the leg suddenly, practically spitting it out and only giving the other unnatural creature a heartbeat in which to stagger backwards before she launched her full weight at him, cruel claws glinting in the poor light, both sets of slathering fangs honed on his ancient arour, to savage him like the primal monster she was.

Across the cavern, Kona clutched at rabbit-Rilana so tightly with his beak that he broke skin, staining the pristine white fur with fresh red around her scruff. With a beak meant for stripping prey such as this, it was difficult to be gentle, especially when harsh sneers and the clash of weapons met his eyes and ears. He'd been underground far too much for his liking during this journey.

As Alya approached, the half-leopard half-eagle lifted his head, peering down at the Songweaver. Without Rilana to interpret and act as the medium for his mental communcations, Kona was just as mute as the half-elf. But he was intelligent enough to recognize her concern, and he trusted Alya as Rilana did. His long feathered ear-tufts flicked forwards and he lowered his head to put the dangling lagomorph into Alya hand's, producing a soft, worried chirp that ended in a clack of his beak.

It was then that Rilana finally stirred, the long soft ears twitching as revitalization spread like warmth through her soul, and Juloya's voice echoed around inside her mind like the deep cracking of ice felt on the surface of a glacier. She righted herself, black eyes opening to glance up at Alya and Kona, her emotions impossible to read on her tiny bunny face.

"What...?" She raised herself up on her poofy back feet and looked at the ceiling before peering around.

"You died, welcome back," Kona replied sardonically, ruffling his wings to hide how worried he'd been.

"I feel fine now." She bounced down to the ground, swiftly transforming into her usual shape, staring across the stone and ice cavern trying to work out what was happening. Her heart gave a lurch when she spotted Svarak splitting off in the center of a crowd of mobile skeletons. She took a few steps towards him, ready to jump into the fray and fight side-by-side with the man she loved. "Oh Svarak...why is he taking off his armour?"

Across from them, she could see the null stone with Juloya inside. She had to reach out to brace herself against the gryphon and the half-elf as she came face to face with a thing she had only seen in visions. For a moment she was distracted by a constant stream of mental profanity coming from Ortha.

CRUSHYOURBONES TEARYOURLEGOFF EATYOURMARROW SQUATINYOUREYESOCKETS SHITYOUOUTINTHESNOW!

And then she spotted the silhoutte of her fellow Moon Fey standing near the stone. "Lady Moira!" Her voice was full of relief at seeing her friend alive. But Kona grumbled a low warning.

"She's not the same Lady Moira that we used to know. Her words are full of hate."

"What?" Rilana's eyes narrowed as she considered this. "Alya, I have to get closer. Kona, you have to help Svarak because..." Because she couldn't. She had no place among those slashing weapons. The gryphon gave a proud nod of his noble head and spread his wings, the air whooshing over them as he angled off to see what he could do with a bunch of skeletons. They didn't seem to be paying attention as he circled once and then dove for a gold sash.

Rilana moved swiftly towards the null stone, her breath catching in her throat. Every inch of floor, every breath of chill air across her skin, felt as though it was tied like a string back through time, wound tight enough to snap as the weight of centuries since the first events here seemed to come crashing down. She didn't exactly sneak, but her footsteps were soft, almost reverent as she moved for the stone, her eyes shifting back and forth between Juloya and the back of Moira's head.

"Juloya, tell me what to do. You're the one who knows what needs to be done. Where is he?" She chased the thread of the chillborn's words where they had echoed in her mind only a short time ago, half-expecting her to remain still and deathlike in her crystalline prison. "Help me help Svarak. I love him." Perhaps unwisely, she reached out to touch the surface of the null stone, remembering that she had a piece of it in her pocket.

[Ebonfort] Dancing with Fire (Solo)

Dancing with Fire

Starting Date and Time: Crimsia 54th, 229 DM

Starting Location: The Crystal Ballroom, Pyresia

CS URLs: Drachiathoryx
Note: This is a 'back in time' solo told about Drachiathoryx from the perspective of a NPC. In this I am exploring a time in her life when she was much less confident than she is in current Ebonfort.

Sebastian Gerardi sipped the ceramic mug of hot coffee, sighing at the stale taste of this morning's brew as he leaned against the polished wooden back of a teak chair. The small table in front of him was crowded with the thick record-books belonging to the studio, and as the proprietor his own handwriting had dutifully filled those pages over the last twenty-five years. Now, he dipped a pen into a black inkwell and made a few notes in his appointment book, faithfully keeping track of the progress of the young couple whose lesson had just ended. He could still hear their voices echoing from the lobby beyond the ballroom's huge double-doors as the receptionist showed them out, and in his mind he could still hear the notes of the simple waltz they had been learning to dance to for the last three weeks.

After jotting a few things down, the man let the pen fall to the page when he was done, leaning back in his chair to take the weight from his sore feet. Perhaps it was a mark of just how many years he had been right here, bringing the discipline, joy, and passion of dance to those who wished to learn, that by the end of a long day of lessons his bones were beginning to protest. He was fourty-three now, the years of performing and entertaining long over, and not for the first time he glanced with blue-green eyes up at a huge gilt-framed painting decorating the windowless northern end of the ballroom. It was a masterpiece he had received as a gift, the skilled brushstrokes and infinite pigments of paint reflecting himself as a much younger man with a gorgeous blonde in his arms as they commanded the dance floor at a particularly huge Midsummer's Gala. He hadn't known at the time that his partner and student had been a green dragon in human form, only discovering it afterwards when she had commissioned him the painting in thanks for his instruction.

But while the painting did an excellent job of giving the viewer a taste of the passion and magic of dominating the dance floor with skill and prowess, it no longer filled Sebastian with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Lately it only seemed to remind him that as time marched on, the decision to hang up his soft lambskin dance shoes and retire was creeping near. The dance instructor rubbed his hand over his face and picked up the pen once more, turning the page to continue his notations, and discovered someone else's handwriting at the top of the page in the slot for the next appointment. Frowning, his thin reddish-blonde brows becoming a scowl, he lifted the book.

“19th stretch, novice consultation, female. $”

Sebastian's puzzled expression persisted for more than one reason. He recognized Jeanne's handwriting, though it wasn't unusual for her to add appointments to his book. These days he had come to rely on the slender half-elf to handle more and more of the studio's business, and trusted her to send him clients who needed his expertise but wouldn't try his patience too much. But it was odd that she had scheduled a novice consult so late in the day, and an hour after he normally left the studio for the night, without telling him about it. The money symbol was Jeanne's way to flag a client who had already paid or was probably wealthy, but the fact that Sebastian's partner had written “female” instead of 'woman' was a new one on him.

Standing up, Sebastian rolled his shoulders and sighed, straightening the simple forest green tunic that was belted loosely around his athletic frame at the hips. It had long sleeves but he had rolled them up to his elbows hours ago and would now likely be too wrinkled to look presentable should he roll them down. Below his shirt was a pair of high-waisted straight-legged trousers that fit snug around the midsection but were loose enough in the legs to move comfortably.

Emerging from his small office, Sebastian strode quietly across the empty expanse of the open dance floor, feeling a certain coolness radiate up through the flexible soles of his shoes when he crossed from the polished wooden perimeter to the blue-green crystal tile that gave the Ballroom its name.

“If you could wait a moment, Triz,” his voice echoed slightly, joining the soft clatter of noises of the trio of musicians busily packing up their instruments where they always sat on the raised stage at one end of the room. Like him, Triz was a master of her craft, able to play any instrument she could get her hands on like they were extensions of her own limbs. The nimble-fingered aaenshi peered questioningly at him with her yellow canine eyes but motioned with her pawlike hand to her own two students, who relaxed to murmur amongst themselves. Sebastian felt guilty at making them wait, but they were young and dedicated to honing their skills. There were enough instruments between the three of them to equip an orchestra, and Sebastian was thankful that Triz was willing to bring them here to the studio to practice, which gave Sebastian's students music to move to. “We may have one more tonight.”

Pushing through the double-door's, Sebastian felt the warmth of the summer sun as the sunset streamed through the high windows. The lobby was near the front entrance and the beginning of the long corridor that circled the ballroom, and one could walk all the way around to enjoy a panorama of the tropical city or enter the ballroom by one of four sets of double doors. Usually both Jeanne and Sebastian could hold lessons simultaneously within the ballroom itself, but the corridor was large enough for one of them to entertain a single student while the other taught a larger (and louder) group.

Blinking slightly at the strong light, Sebastian made his way to the sitting area and the silhouette of the figure he saw there. The receptionist had apparently already left for the evening, but not before supplying the prospective student with a cup of wine that steamed hotly.

“....oh.” Sebastian's breath was suddenly stolen from his lungs as he got a better look at the figure waiting in the lobby. She was sitting at one of the intricate scrollwork iron chairs in front of the high window, looking out through the glass at the harbour and the dark silhouettes of ships gliding silently in and out of the bay. The sun was setting, as orange and hot as a freshly minted copper as it filled the room with a stifling warmth. It spilled over the woman, making her red-scaled skin glimmer like a million tiny rubies stitched to a tapestry with golden thread.

Sebastian had seen dragonkin before, but never up close, and the last place he expected to find one was in his studio. She didn't notice him right away, and in his surprise he enjoyed a few spare moments to look. A luxurious mane of black hair tumbled down her bare back to a spot just between where her wings emerged, and that pair of folded limbs seemed to hover at rest behind her, tucked loosely in on themselves like painted fans. Hanging out the back of her chair was a long red tail, the tip of which was twisting sinuously back and forth. She was wearing a loose black dress with long sleeves to her wrists and a hem that went all the way to her ankles. It seemed overly large, as though she were making an attempt to conceal her figure. Her feet seemed to be bare, however, heelless with dark claws that matched those on the end of fingers she had curled loosely around a cup of wine.

The instructor was well aware of the rumours surrounding dragonkin. They were known to be loners, to be dangerous, lacking in traits such as loyalty, trustworthiness, and class. Sebastian found it difficult to believe that such a creature would be here to simply learn how to dance (the very idea of a dancing half-dragon sounded like an unfinished joke), but as Sebastian watched the woman shift in her seat, his eyes following the graceful, tantalizing lines of her figure, a simple but powerful thought slipped into his mind.

Why not?

As soon as he thought it, Sebastian felt a little thrill of excitement. Of discovering something new. It was a feeling he hadn't had in a long time, and he couldn't help but feel refreshed by it. He lifted a closed fist to his mouth and cleared his throat politely, striding forward as though he had just entered the room.

“Ahem. Welcome to the Crystal Ballroom, madame. I'm Sebastian Girardi, the proprietor and Master Instructor.” Priding himself on his good manners, Sebastian held out his palm, offering to help her from her chair.

He stopped when she turned to face him, and it was fortunate that he had already approached to a conversational distance because if not, he may well have been transfixed mid-stride by her eyes. Looking down into the scaled woman's reptilian face, her eyes put him in mind of the channels of molten rock craftily diverted safely through the city down to the bay by the workings of dwarves. It was easy for Sebastian to see why these half-breeds were feared and mistrusted, and even then his heart missed a beat or two. But her eyes looked him over with a sort of careful cunning that only barely failed to hide a flicker of uncertainty, and it was then that he knew her interest in pursuing whatever she had come here for was genuine, if hindered by doubt. She took his hand and Sebastian felt the pebbly but smooth texture of her skin against his, as well as a tremendous warmth. She hardly needed his assistance as she rose smoothly, and gracefully he couldn't help but notice, though she seemed pleased by the gesture.

She was tall for a woman, and with the graceful but stout spiral horns jutting out from the back of her head Sebastian was certain she was taller even than him. He couldn't help let his eyes wander, though he chastised himself for being rude as he let his gaze linger on the way her wing-joints seemed to hover just above her shoulders, and her nostrils flared just a little every time she breathed. First impressions being what they were, Sebastian found himself very impressed indeed, feeling something crackling between them before she'd even said a word. Or was that just because she was half-dragon?

“Good afternoon, Master Girardi. My name is Drachiathoryx. Thank you for agreeing to see me today. I do hope you will forgive me for insisting on a consult at a later...less busy time.” She withdrew her and, crossing both arms under her bust, which seemed generous under the obscuring dress, and Sebastian detected a note of something more than just polite gratitude in her low but unmistakably feminine voice. It seemed that she had been truly unsure that her learning would be accepted. He realized that she had opted to schedule a late lesson to avoid being seen. What must life be like for someone who felt the need to hide herself from a crowded art district and inside such an unflattering gown?

“There's nothing to forgive, madame. And please, call me Sebastian. My doors are always open to someone who wants to learn what I can teach. Will you walk with me?” He bowed slightly and gestured her towards the ballroom, falling in step beside her as she led her into the huge room. Her eyes widened and Sebastian was treated to the curious sight of her pupils widening and narrowing quickly as she looked around. The soft frills on the sides of her face flattened against her head, which reminded Sebastian of the way of a housecat.

“Have you had any experience with ballroom dancing, madame?” He asked, getting right to the heart of the consult, sensing somehow that this creature wouldn't be one for smalltalk, at least not yet. Sebastian walked with her to one of the mirrored walls, watching her as she watched herself with a small frown.

“Call me Drrrakah,” she replied, turning from the mirror after apparently not finding anything worth looking at there, and added, “And no, nothing of note, I'm afraid. I don't know much about dancing at all, Sebastian, but I recently found myself...inspired.”

The instructor was thankful that she gave him a shortened version of her name to work with. It was clearly Draconic, and she had a noticeable accent to her Common, but Sebastian had live in Pyresia his entire life and knew enough Draconic to get by.

“That's no matter,” he assured her. “But I hope you will allow me to ask you a few questions about yourself,” her wings twitched stiffly at this, which made him smile, “so we can tailor lessons around what you would like to learn. We probably won't do much dancing tonight, and of course if you aren't interested in moving forward there is no charge for the consult.”

At first Sebastian wasn't sure she was listening because her amber-coloured eyes were tracing down his neck and then flitting across the room where she had just noticed the musicians, who were being told off by Triz for staring openly. Drache's tail gave a nervous twitch and Sebastian moved smoothly to put himself between her and them.

“Are you going to be bringing a partner to dance with?” Sebastian met her hard stare, and she looked away first.

“No, I didn't realize that would be necessary.”

“Oh, it isn't. It's just important for me to know if I need to plan to teach a couple or an individual. I'll be happy to dance with you myself, or pair you with one of my younger instructors if you find that more acceptable.” He gave her a moment to say so, but she had no objections, for which Sebastian was glad. “Do you happen to know what style of dance you would like to pursue, or are you looking for a variety...?”

The dragoness frowned a little and fidgeted hesitantly, “I...I am not sure what any of them are called. I would be grateful for your recommendation. I do attend the Midsummer Gala nearly every year, and I have seem several performances in the Art District...”

Sensing that she simply needed a few moments to organize her thoughts, Sebastian remained quiet, watching her thoughtfully and trying to match her uniqueness to one particular style of dance or another. It wasn't easy.

“I'm sure I don't need to tell you that it's fairly usual for someone like me to avoid the social life, but I think it's about time I changed that for myself.”
Sebastian lifted a reddish eyebrow. “So you'd like to learn to dance to boost your confidence, then.” Apparently she didn't like how it sounded out loud because she scowled at him, but he just grinned, “There is nothing wrong with that! There are as many reasons to dance as there are those who do it, and there is nothing ignoble about dancing because it makes us feel good about ourselves.” He watched her relax somewhat and understood then that earning her trust was going to take a long time. The challenge seemed worth it.

“But there are many styles of dance, so now that we know why you wish to learn, we have a way to look back periodically and judge our progress to make sure you are happy, and our next step is to discover which styles resonate with you most. If you are looking to dance socially, perhaps we should start with a rumba.”

Sebastian dismissed some of the more peppy dances for Drache right away, such as swing and cha-cha. They just didn't seem to fit her. He also forgot about waltz, which was the opposite of those bouncy coastal steps, but he just couldn't see the dragonkin in a huge floaty dress gliding around on the dance floor like a flower. She was too sleek for that, and if his judgement about her character was on point, he was willing to bet that there was a lot of sensuality under that layer of uncertainty. She gave him a nod of her smooth snout and stood in the middle of the crystal dance floor as Sebastian signaled Triz and her students. They picked up a violin and a guitar and began to play a smooth melody and distinct 4/4 pattern.

Moving to stand beside his new student, Sebastian faced the mirror next to her. “The rumba is danced in a fairly simple box pattern that just rotates slowly. With all the dances I teach you, the woman will step back always with the right foot first, so that's easy to remember. Even if you change directions, you will always be on your right foot first.” He began to dance, starting the three step pattern of the rumba, lifting his arms up as though he had an invisible partner in front of him. “The rumba is considered a romantic dance, but I think it will be an easy place to start for us today. Now follow me...”

Sebastian settled into a familiar teaching routine for counting out the beats for her, watching her clawed feet shuffle awkwardly at first but settle into the rhythm. She was very agile and within the first dozen repetitions he watched her hips start to sway, her long tail only adding to the movements. Yes, if she stuck it out and let him teach her, she could be very good. It was like watching an extremely exotic flower bloom. He had been concerned about her bare feet, but the hard scales allowed her to slide her feet properly instead of sticking to the floor like normal skin would.

“Yes, one-two-threeeee, one-two-threeeee, pause longer on the three....yes. Good. Keep going.” He moved out of place as she continued, though she could still see him in the mirror as he moved behind her and put a palm lightly in the center of her back. “Keep your back straight, you're leaning too far forward....” she tensed under his touch but didn't miss a step and he kept his hand there for a full bar until he was sure she wouldn't slouch again, making the same steps she did.

“Okay, let's stop for a moment,” he said, waving for the musicians, who let their strings fade off.

“Now that you have the steps down, let's see how you do with a partner,” Sebastian grinned, moving in front of the dragoness. They wouldn't need to dance with their bellies pressed together for the rumba, which was part of why Sebastian liked to start with it, especially for flighty beginners. “Your right hand needs to rest in mine right here,” he lifted her arm, which caused her long sleeve to fall back to her elbow. “You don't have to hold very tight, but this contact will help make sure there is still a gap in the middle here. If you let you arm sag like this,” he demonstrated, “we'll be too close.”

“Now your other hand needs to be up here on my shoulder. Press the flat of your hand right here, yes, and your arm rests on top of mine. All of this is important because when you're dancing with a partner he won't be telling you when or where he is going to step, so this touch will be your way of feeling where he is going to go.”

Sebastian tucked his right hand up Drache's back. Normally he rested his palm on the flat shoulder-blade of his partner, but he found that there was a wing-joint and thick muscles in his way, and thus resolved to cup the base of her wing, fighting the urge to follow the limb upwards out of sheer curiosity. She was very warm, the simmering heat radiating through her dress, and he caught a tantalizing whiff of some spiced perfume.

“And what if I don't like where he is going?” She asked, surprising him with a note of pride.

“Ahah, well make no mistake, most people think that it's the man who is in charge of the dance, but in fact it is the woman who chooses whether or not to accept his lead.” She was watching him critically, and Sebastian felt inspired to ask, “Will you let me lead you, my lady?”

A slow smile curled the corners of Drache's lips and she gave a little nod, which Sebastian repeated to the musicians. The music started up again and Sebastian counted out the notes for her for a few bars before taking that first step. It was better than he expected. Of course she was nervous, inexperienced, and who knew what hangups a half-dragon struggled to overcome, but her feet found the rhythm quickly, and after a few glances down between them at their feet when she missed a step (a habit many students took ages to overcome), she focused on his face. It was impossible to not compare her to his previous students. Certainly she was less skilled than many had been, having had no training at all. But she wasn't hopeless either. In spite of hiding herself under a bulky dress, her body seemed athletic and graceful in his arms.

“Take smaller steps,” he advised quietly, beginning to turn their little rumba box, slowly adding infinitesimal complexities to their dance. “Very good. Now relax. You're doing great. Let your hips sway instead of picking your feet up so high.” The dragonkin followed his instructions well, and as they moved slowly across the vast smooth dance floor, the stiff movements grew more fluid and natural.

While they turned, Sebastian used the mirrors to see what she was doing, curious about how her wings and tail would affect the overall appearance of the dance. He wasn't an expert on winged races but it seemed that she was keeping her wings tucked tight to her back, and her tail was down just behind her feet, the end curled back up like a squirrel's. Something to work on later. Glancing up through the ceiling revealed that they had already been at this for a long time, but it hadn't felt like long at all. When was the last time he had danced the night away without even realizing it?

Looking down, he realized that Drache was watching him curiously, and he brought them to a stop, relaxing his grip on her hand and her shoulder. He was reluctant to move away, and noticed that she didn't either.

“You did very well tonight, Drache. I'd be very happy to see you back for regular lessons.” His tone was hopeful, not just because he was glad to have another student who possessed a natural talent for moving her body, but because his curiosity about this mysterious fire-eyed female was nearly insatiable. But he forced himself to remain professional and waited to see what she would say.

“Thank you, Sebastian. It was more than I expected. When can you have me back?”

“Scheduling just depends on how often you would like to come back. I usually recommend at least two hour-long lessons per tenday, but most people can't make it to more than one. Students who want to go on to compete usually come every other day or so, but if you want to dance socially you don't need to commit that much time. If you're coming here at least once a ten-day, your lessons are 5gp per lesson or 8gp for two.”

“Why the smaller cost for more of your time?” she asked, and Sebastian grinned. It was rare that a student appreciated his time enough to ask. His sea-green eyes glittered at her as they walked together towards his office. On the way, he nodded at Triz, and the musicians began packing up for real this time.

“Because those who come at least twice a tenday don't have to relearn so much at every lesson. It actually saves me time in the long run. But don't feel that you have to commit an extreme amount of time to this. You won't be happy if you don't go at your own pace.”

“I have nothing but time,” she replied, and something about the way she said it made Sebastian look up from where he had opened his appointment book. She was leaning against the doorframe, much more confident now than she had been an hour before. For a moment they weren't instructor and student, he was just a man and she was just a dark and alluring woman. Tension almost sizzled in the air between them, but they both looked away at the same time.

“In that case, why don't you come back in two days, same time, and we'll do a lesson every four days from now on? And there is a schedule of group lessons at the front desk. They are free for anyone taking private lessons and I highly recommend you come to one or two.” She looked unconvinced as he began writing her name down in his book for the next month. “I understand your hesitation, but I think you might be surprised at how quickly my other students will get used to you. You're already lighter on your feet than some I have been working with for weeks. And even if you choose not to dance, just watching will help you decide what you want to learn for yourself.”

Drache made a sort of waggling gesture with her wings that Sebastian took to be a sort of wordless concession. Putting his pen down, Sebastian crossed the room and reached for her hand, which she gave up far more readily than she had before.

“Let me show you out,” he offered, escorting her to across the now-empty ballroom and through the lobby in silence. He normally took this time to make polite inqueries about his students' lives, getting to know a little bit more about them with every lesson, but his words stuck in his throat. The Master Dancer couldn't help but feel that any question he might ask would be viewed by Drache as a swordpoint aimed at something vulnerable and parried as such. Not only that, but what could he ask of a dragonkin? Perhaps the mystery was important.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly when they reached the grand entryway, but whatever else she might have said was lost when Sebastian lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, he eyes widening as they looked at each other, as though no one had ever done that before.

“I'll see you in a few days,” he said, grinning as he let her go. And it was only once her dark figure had disappeared into the shadowy night that he realized probably no one ever had kissed her hand before.

[Ebonfort] The Ash Peak

At first, Drache was concerned that Dibney might be less than thrilled about having a half-dragon in the front seat, but it seemed that Raffey was able to steer perfectly fine from behind her. The rainforest was familiar to her, so the dragonkin took advantage of an empty lap and slid her satchel around in front. There were a few interesting things inside, and though her intent was to pull out the folded map to make a few brief notations, she found that the orange stone from the Fire Temple had been jostled free of the smaller pouch inside, and she held it in her palm, gazing unfocusedly at the dim angular shape of the mountain that flashed briefly through the rare gap in the canopy overhead.

Eventually she forgot what she was about to do and tucked it away, distracted by the sounds of the jungle. She took a more active roll in guiding them now, pointing, often with her wing, at the direction she wanted Dibney to go. Now and then they passed small trails through the thick leafy brush, water-filled wagon tracks lined with moss and brightly coloured frogs. The air was full of the smell of growing things, the perfume heady.

At one point Drache stiffened, her ear-frills spreading out wide with alertness as she peered sidelong at something in the trees. A Drakkoth lurked surprisingly high off the ground, his green hide nearly indistinguishable from the understory around him, watching them pass with a long spear in his hand. She turned to look over her shoulder, an amber eye rolling as she murmured to her companion. "We have company."

She had been traveling with the monster hunter long enough to trust that not only would Raffey be able to pick out the small band of large reptilians lurking around them. But though the creatures could be very dangerous, Drache gave a slow shimmy and relaxed, realizing that the bundle-laden creatures were not a hunting party.

It was supposed to be a nonverbal sign to Raffey that he didn't need to reach for his weapons, but unfortunately this move wouldn't do much to help his mood.

Later on, a tingle of pleasure slid down her spine at the way he rolled her name, and she grinned. "There is a lot to see in Pyresia," she began thoughtfully, "The peak itself is so tall that the summit is cold no matter what time of year it is. The dragon balconies ring the steeper slopes and most of the rest of the surface city is on the western side above the harbour. The Artisan District always has fun things to see, and then there is the Meteorena, which is actually on the west side. There are a lot of museums and the terraced gardens. There are several fun taverns and bordellos closer to the water." She turned and winked at him then. "And then there are the Gem Deeps. Pyresia is mostly famous for gem stones and you will see why! And the lava-ducts light the city at night."

It wasn't exactly clear when she realized that the light grip on her legs had become something more, but she waited until there were fingers dipping down towards her groin before she actually glanced back at him with a lifted brow, as if to say "Oh, really?"

"Inside the mountain there are places that only Ixen, or half-Ixen (she said with a haughty waggle of her wings) can survive. But the wind off the sea keeps the city much less stifling than here under the trees."

Reaching down, she caught his hands to stop him from dipping them further, bringing them up to her belly instead. The leather vest muffled the sensation of touch but didn't do much to reduce the natural heat that radiated from her body. Her long tail shifted, coiling loosely around his calf.

"Perhaps we should stop for a break. There's something up ahead that you should see." A moist smell in the air reminded her of it, and after another stretch they rounded a rocky ridge to find a pool nestled under an overhang of pitted black lava rock. A small white waterfall tumbled over the ledge from where it had meandered down from higher ground, spilling into a pool that steamed where bubbles rose up from the bottom. All around them, the wide glossy leaves and dark red bromeliads offered a sense of privacy and seclusion. Their only company was a pair of red parrots busily foraging on small fruits high above.

Drache's prior knowledge of this spot was explained by a tumble-down obelisk of basalt barely visible through the greenery, and as they approached, the dragoness escaped Raffey's grip and slid down to the leafy ground. "I fancy a dip. Care to join me?" There was something salacious in her gaze as she peered up at him. "As much as I like snuggling in the bedroll at night and riding with you behind me, I wouldn't mind a little time face to face."

[Ebonfort] The Edge of the Map

The water elementalist watched Kira's face as the First Mate seemed to ponder on the application of waterspinning to the defense of the ship. Jharnia nodded, grinning in spite of her nervousness, flattered by Kira's appreciation. The young woman didn't want to be caught in a sea battle of any kind, but the money and the adventure would be worth it, right?

Jharnia glanced down at the main deck as Kira began to play, curious to see how the rest of the crew would react to the wonderful sound of a masterwork instrument. As soon as the music began to radiate back across the rest of the ship, faces turned to look, watching the black-garbed woman play, grinning and nodding with approval. There were even a few cheers for the new First Mate, and a few beckoned for the fiddler to join them on the main deck.

From one of the dark doorways leading down into the main of the ship, more of the crew appeared, lured out by the music and frivolity. In particular, two grizzled sailors and a young cabin boy appeared, the gruffer of the three speaking in hushed tones to a few of the men who had been on deck most of the day. Even some of the merchants appeared, more wealthily-dressed than the crew but less comfortable still on the slowly rolling deck.

At last, Captain Blaine appeared, leaning against a doorway with a silver tabby cat lurking on the polished deck between his boots. When Kira's notes grew into a steady beat, the rhythm of clapping hands and stomping boots joined the shanty, and a sailor grabbed the hand of one of the passengers, swinging her into a dance across the deck. Another fiddle appeared, a black-bearded man nodding to Kira over the strings and the bow, joining in with the familiar tune.

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

Rabbit claws were not very good for gripping with, and Rilana had to dig her huge floofy feet into Kona's hide to keep her spot on his rolling, lurching back. The gryphon dashed down the cavern away from the entangling moss, his wings coming up to flap furiously at the dead end.

No way out, here! Scrawk!

But Svarak called out and Rilana let her tiny black bunny eyes look for something resembling a burrow. It was not hard to find, because both she and the rabbit were eager for some kind of escape from this hellishness. Slipping from Kona's spotted fur, Rilana became a white blur down on the ground, streaking for the blackness of the burrow and disappearing into it with just a flip of her feet behind her.

And then she was falling. Floating. No up or down. Rotating with no direction. No light. No air. Only her tiny nose twitching uselessly and her heart beating frantically. She was dying. It was magic. Like the shield. So many shields. Gasping helplessly in a dark hole in ground, Rilana died.

Kona screeched like one pissed off damn hawk, flapping awkwardly as he was suddenly sucked down through the floor. It was not pleasant and he was even more irritated when his paws and talons slipped gracelessly on the dark frozen lake the group was suddenly perched on.

His sharp eyes did not miss the tiny white fluff ignored by everyone else. Hurrying over, tufted tail swishing worriedly, he leaned down to nudge the rabbit-Rilana. She didn't move. Turning his face, he peered closely with one eye. He would know if she was dead, and as he watched her nose twitched. Satisfied, he picked her up by the scruff. He could feel the tiny rabbit heart fluttering within and followed the rest with a limp bunny dangling from his beak.

--

Ortha took all this magical weirdness in stride, following along behind Moira since it was apparent that the Other Moon Fey wouldn't be following her. She didn't understand what she said, but there came a point where she didn't heard Rilana anymore, which meant she couldn't hear the Grumpy Gryphon either. Her tail flipped back and forth and her two heads swiveled independently. There was a strange smell about Moira now. Ortha peered up at the humanoid shape locked inside the glowing crystal thing and blinked, a vague sense of familiarity about it. But the balauradon remained fairly placid until the skeletons began to move. She had a boney leg in her mouth and backed away from the skeleton it was trying to reattach to, growling possessively.

[Ebonfort] The Ash Peak

Looking back, Drache would realize that she owed a lot to Raffey on that trip back to Pyresia. There was no doubt that if she'd had to make that trek alone, she would not have made it without turning back to Coria. He provided ample distraction, and if she hadn't been so gloomy and closed-off she might have explored him even more.

She did her best to pick up his language, but even though she had no trouble making the sounds, it didn't resonate with her as easily as Kvaren had. She tried though, and truthfully did love to listen to him talk. Riding behind him, she often tucked her snout against his back and just rode listlessly.

But when they finally passed into the glossy green of the jungle, the Ash Peak still distant and impossibly huge, she began to feel better. The terrain was rougher, the jungle reducing their sight, but it was warmer, more humid, and more comfortable. She glanced around, her tail flopping around with more excitement than she had shown in days.

"I don't think I'd want to visit there without you with me," she said simply, shrugging. She repeated a few words, a few simple phrases. When he mentioned that he had another form, she assumed that he had some kind of shape-shifting abilities like the dragons in Pyresia and didn't press for details, but her amber eyes darted over him carefully, as though looking for some hint of what this mysterious other form might look like.

It didn't escape her notice that Raffey was growing frustrated with needs, but he had shrunk away from her before, back before Coria, and now she was too despondent to consider that his interest might be directed towards her. So when he stopped the scuttling beetle and announced his wish to switch spots, Drache didn't argue.

"Mhmm...yes. There should be a road somewhere soon that will take us right to the city. The patrols will probably stop us at some point but that won't slow us much. We probably have four more days until we get to the city proper." The hand on her thigh earned a weak smile, but she did a double-take, perhaps seeing something of his discomfort in his face. She didn't say anything about it, however, moving to scoot in front of him. She tucked her tail down along one of her legs and adjusted her wings so that they wouldn't be in his way as much as he settled in behind her.

"There, is that better?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. The world around them had become noisy, birds and monkeys and insects creating a wierd organic symphony of sound. The colours would be much brighter in the summer, but the richness of the green leaves around them matched Drache's bright red hide much better than the dry grassland they had left behind. Drache tried a smile and found that just trying it made her happier. "I'm glad you came with me, Raffey. I can't wait to show you around."

[Ebonfort] Days of Grass and Dust

It was the sound of a crowing rooster that first roused Asher from the depths of sleep. For once he had made it through the night without his dreams being disturbed by the agonizing sense of loss that had plagued him for years. He had slept well and his bed was comfortable, and there was someone warm and soft beside him. Still lingering in that dozy half-sleep, Ash rolled over and pressed close to that soft, shapely someone in his bed. She fit neatly in his bare-chested embrace, his injured shoulder up so that his arm could drape over her waist, fingers twitching reflexively against her lower belly. Burying his nose in her hair, he inhaled deeply. It was a comforting smell. Womanly and mixed with flowers and...herbs.

Asher's eyes snapped open, his gaze staring blearily into the tousle of blonde hair inches from his face. Oops.

The day began awkwardly from there but once they were both up and dressed, things settled into a fast-paced but fairly predictable course. Together, Asher and Verissa packed up the rest of their (his) things and packed them into the cart, the last of which was the tent itself. It had the be folded just right, the long wooden support poles bundled together and lashed on top of the pile.

The Thunderfang camp was so large that once the first wagon and team of outriders started away on the dusty track that was as much a road as existed in the Kerawac, it was nearly two hours before the last one left the messy bare swath of earth. The signs of habitation were little more than discarded broken crates and tent poles, scraps of leather, and the scorched earth under now-dead fires. All of these would be reclaimed by the grass in a matter of a season or two.

At first, Asher steered the draft mule himself, sitting on the bench seat next to Verissa while Phantom trailed along behind on a pony line. But after patiently and methodically explaining to her how to use the reigns, which was pretty much the same as when riding, he mounted the gray mare and joined the scouts, riding up and down the line to protect the caravan and help when needed. The only hard part about Trix's task would be the seat she sat on. The mule steadfastly followed the back of the cart ahead, not really needing much guidance, except for when a particularly verdant patch of grass grew on the verge, which caused it to stop for a bite and required Verissa to put it back in line again.

The trail was dusty, long plumes billowing the hooves of the horses and the wheels of the carts, raising a gritty cloud over them for most of the day. At night the tribe slept in the same line as the order they had walked, congregating loosely with many small campfires blossoming out of the dead winter grass. It was good weather to start grass fires, so many went without.

And instead of putting up his huge tent, Asher blocked the wind out with crates and pulled Verissa under the cart with him to sleep, bundling them thickly against the cold.

The journey took several weeks, the land sloping and rising aain, and ever covered in the waving grasses. Occasionally there would be something interesting to see, such as a copse of trees or a lake, but after a while it just seemed that the valley was endless. the Thunderfang tribe was not nearly the first to arrive at the Gathering Place, but as they staked out a spot for them on the grassy plain, they nearly doubled the size of the existing congregation. The festive atmosphere was infectious, and Asher found himself nearly bubbling over with excitement as he lead Verissa through the colourful tents and strange faces. He reunited with old friends and was introduced to new spouses and babies and even slaves that had made a name for themselves. The gathering of the chieftains was held in a monstrous tent. Like Asher had said it would be, the Gathering was full of music and dancing and delicious food. Tribes traded news, slaves, and goods. Children played elaborate games that put them underfoot and different packs of dogs intermingled, humping all over the place. Shenzi and the other Healers made it clear to Verissa that she was expected to join them to help teach others. It wasn't all good, however. Several tribes had battles and there were fights between both sober and drunken revelers. There was much news about cities in the west, and the Thunderfangs enjoyed quite a bit of fame for their successful raid on Ruby Banks. Every day was a whirlwind, and Asher didn't always insist on Verissa being by his side. Here at the Gathering it would be even more clear to her that her own behaviour and skill reflected well on him, especially when he had her wear the wolftooth pendant that hung down to the center of her chest. Asher's arm healed quickly, and he was able to take the bandages off for the training of the youngsters.

It was the day after the Crimson Vines left that the Dance began. It was unofficially known as a sort of Bachelor night, because the wedding ceremonies would be held the following day. Night fell and a huge bonfire was started somewhat away from the groupings of tents, and everyone able to play an instrument was doing their best to get everyone riled up. The drums boomed hard and fast.

Asher was sitting on a half barrel that had been turned into a bench, drinking ale from a wooden cup as the heat from the fire washed reddish across his face. A pair of identical tattooed Swordmasters from another tribe was sitting near him, talking about a woman they had shared the night before.

"Wait wait...a dragonkin? You're full of shit, Miles."

Whatever retort the twins might have had was lost, because a trio of young women drifted by, wearing little more than coloured scarfs tied in ways that barely hid the essentials, and would float and swirl enticingly as they danced to the heavy pace of the drums. Watching them go with his head tilted a little, a wistful smile on his features, the broody Asher let his eyes dart through the crowds, looking for Verissa.

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

In her creepy way, Ortha watched Echo with one head while the other focused on the other Moon Fey, the nostrils in her boney skeletal face sniffing at the 'almost but not quite Rilana'. Both of the balauradon's jaws were grimy with guano from where she had snacked on the way in, hungrily able to eat just about anything and delighting on the occasional fallen bat corpse half-buried in the acrid refuse.

The extraplanar monster hunkered down on her legs, creeping through the moss, grumbling as it slid across her leathery hide. Once she was close enough to Moira she stood straight and turned back towards the entrance in that classic non-verbal posture that meant "Let's go!"

--

Deeper in the cave system, Rilana looked around curiously as the group spread out into the rounded cavern, watching the light of their torches glitter across the ice, looking for anything that might help them solve the riddle Lady Moira had left them.

Turning, she glanced down thoughtfully at the Songweaver, listening to Alya's voice that no one else could hear. "A heartbeat?"

Follow thine heart?

"Do you still hear it?" But apparently it had died.

Just then, several things happened at once. Ortha was reaching out for her, but the eerie and unnerving hiss of plantlife moving at speeds that were unnatural raced towards them, the sounds echoing and rushing along the tunnel. This sound was nearly lost completely, however, as the walls of ice fractured and burst, the pressure and noise battering at Rilana's senses. The Moon Fey had nothing to hide behind, but crouched quickly, throwing her arm up to protect her face from the shards of ice she expected to wash over her.

It was this arm that Alya grabbed, and Rilana followed her friend readily, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that the others were following, her gaze sweeping over the tidal wave of purple moss. She never even heard Echo's howl shivering up from the depths, but as soon as Alya told her that the direwolf had found something, Ortha's sight flashed across her mind.

"It's Lady Moira. They've found her. She looks..." She didn't have to finish, her worried expression would relay the troubling condition of the other Moon Fey. Rilana berated herself.

How could I have been wrong, again! My instincts are terrible. There was no way to reach Lady Moira right now, not by going back the way they'd come, anyways.

Apparently Kona didn't have time for his Druid's poor self-esteem, however, because the gryphon replied simply, Heart must give life to ice, When heart is lost, become hare.

Rilana glanced back at Svarak again, her face grey with uncertainty and fear, but she didn't want to tell him what she was planning to do. What they were to each other, she wasn't sure yet, but she didn't want to add to his burden, and she didn't want to be the kind of woman who needed coddling and comfort.

"Alya, I'm going to change. I won't be able to talk except to you." And Kona, but the gryphon was nearly as mute s the flute-player. Rilana pulled her arm free of the half-elf's grasp but didn't quite stop running, just slowed a little as she concentrated.

Kona, if I die I don't want you to die with me.

If you die, I won't want to live! He protested angrily, and for the first time ever Rilana had to force him to un-Mark, until he appeared again in the tunnel, incorporeal at first but suddenly solid and as large as life, his wings tucked tightly to his back as he hurried along, tufted tail swishing.

But Rilana wasn't done yet. She clambered up on the grypon's leopard-spotted back and began to change. Her already-white skin erupted with snowy fur, and her ears crawled up the sides of her head to poke out her hair, which slurped back into her head like so many noodles. Her whole body shrank rapidly, her clothes blending in to a hide of solid white (except for black at the tips of her long ears), until the tiny round shape of the most adorable snowshoe hair ever (pic) was struggling to keep a grip on the gryphon's mighty back.

That riddle better be speaking figuratively, Kona grumped.