13th-dragon-prince

13th-dragon-prince

“Core.” There was an inherent ‘duh’ to the tone, his brows raised for a moment as he continued to shift his talons to the corpse. Before stilling as he realized his friend had a really, really good grip on him. Somehow. Pointed ears wiggled as he stuck his tongue out and gave another answer. “Aether, For Core.” He tapped his chest with the tip of his tail. “Eat, and not empty.” That tail then moved to point to his head and his expression turned to a wide toothed grin. “Make Better.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Featherflame gave the little dragon a look, particularly at those wiggling claws, that said "I don't answer to you", before moseying on over to the tree that had halted Whillow's roll and started to eat its leaves. She had just run at a sprint, a little treat was deserved.

Bryn, meanwhile, held him still, close, almost like he was refusing to let him go, the hand under his back drumming finger against his side as he tried to follow the little dragon's words.

In all honesty, Bryn wasn't sure what he expected the answer to be, but it wasn't just Core. That explained about as much as mud cleared water. Perhaps the dragons brain was a little scrambled still... He shifted him in his arms, making sure he was still comfortable, as he grunted in lack of understanding, giving him a moment to speak again and pleased he had.

Those wiggling ears, the tongue, it all lent to the proof that Whill was feeling better, and his answer this time was a bit more coherent, lending a little more understanding to Bryn, who hummed thoughtfully and gently tilted Whillow so he could set him down in a standing position. So it's fuel. Like meat? He thought about it for a moment more, lowering the gecko until those clawed feet were firmly against the ground, and he asked quizzically, "Aether...so you eat...aether rather than meat? And the aether concentrates in the heart?"

He stopped, and then lifted a hand, tapping his chest. "Is it the same for me? And you?" The same hand tapped Whillow's chest, right between the ribs, or where they would be on a Hyur, his mind racing, as he murmured, "I never knew that..."

The mention of healing was enough for Bryn though, he was more than willing to let the little dragon have his meal if it meant he would feel better.

Normally this is a "slow day since I am in office" post, but I'm not in office today!

Ready to write!

He raised a hand, smiling at her as he swore solemnly, "I, Kaleh'a Quickdraw, promise to not get injured due to an addle-brained idea of high risk and no reward." He lowered his hand, glancing around for a moment, and noticed the Grand Marshal was missing, along with a few other high ranking members, and he let out a thoughtful hum, walking around the awning area, looking for them, and finding just the normal staff. The wounded, at least those that could walk, were already leaving, returning to homes or beds to rest and recover, and the archer realized the Marshals must have gone to survey the aftermath of the skirmish.

Which gave him a terrible idea that he accidentally voiced aloud. "I wonder if we could see where the attack was, get an idea what happened..." He said it absently, and a passing Twin Adder stopped, looked at Kaleh'a, recognized him, and replied as if he had asked them specifically.

"I would check in Larkscall, east of the Sylphgate. I heard something happened by Castrum Dryadis." Before Kaleh'a was even finished turning towards them to thank the young soldier, they were off, carrying a bundle of blankets for the infirmary, and leaving the archer shifting his hat on his head.

"Well," he murmured, his tail flicking behind him, "I might go take a look."

He wasn't purposely excluding Cyra, but he also felt like she wouldn't want to go, turning towards her again with every intention to dismiss himself and head for the area described.

He was quick to reply, and though she knew the apology wasn't necessary, it was the appropriate response. It's what people expected. Anger was an emotion that made people uncomfortable, even if it may have been justified, and hers was a never-ending ocean of it. It was more than she wanted to share. Even a single mote of lava could cause irreparable damage were it to touch the flesh. Cyra wanted to avoid lashing out without reason. Kaleh'a, at the very least, didn't deserve to become the target.

So the rage had been tucked away. Forced behind a door that had already been bending at the hinges behind the pressure that laid just on the other side. Deep breaths helped quell the quivering fury as it pounded on that cage. Now was not the time or place.

"So long as your wounds are not a result of some addle-brained idea with high risk and no reward, I would consider yourself safe should you require my services as a White Mage." The smile that tugged at her lips was gentle, but it wasn't genuine. The humor was there, but it was saturated with emotion.

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

To the corpse. To the rocks beneath their feet. To the tree, the chocobo eating said tree, multiple things, each time saying the word until such a point he was confident that Bryn got the idea, his hands resting on his hips as he hopped forward to stand close to him once more. “Aether is Life. That is all La’Mellae need.” He patted his body, slender fingers sliding from his core down to his hips as if to motion to all the pieces within; “Only Feast or Breed.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When that clawed hand took his, shifted it, and slowly pressed it to smooth, scaled flesh, Bryn felt his breath come in a little more, a little faster, and then closed his eyes, his palm pressing into that cool chest and feeling...

He wasn't going crazy. There was no heartbeat. It was just a soft, ever present thrum of a core. He could feel it there, under his palm, and feel the hand pressed to the back of his, soaking in that feeling for a moment as he understood that his panic before was unwarranted, just...misunderstanding of how Whillow's body worked. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and let his hand fall away, falling back to his side as he watched the little dragon turn towards his meal. The sharp dewclaw, the way it sliced through flesh and bone so easily, reminded Bryn that the Gecko was dangerous, which would be hard to forget given how he had leapt onto the large beast and just...shredded it. As the petite dragon bent over, his gaze trailed along that tail and over the rump stuck up in the air, his arms crossing lightly as he turned his gaze away, leaving the dragon to eat, but the way he rose up on tip-claw, seemed to hide what he was doing, it was appreciated.

What was not hidden though was the sounds, the wet squelches, gasps, and exhales, which leant enough mental imagery to the soldier to know what was happening, glancing down at his boots, kicking one absently. It gave him time to think, to formulate more questions, and hypotheses.

A core. What was a core? Not a heart, an organ? It had to be. He thought over it, shaking his head, and looking up at the gecko, wondering what it was like. To not feel the beat of a heart... He lifted his hand, pressing it to his chest, feeling that comforting thum-thump, and he closed his eyes as he kept thinking, and realized...maybe that wasn't needed for Whill. His senses...they are heightened, clearly. Maybe he can feel and hear that core, while I struggle to feel it. He tapped a foot absently, accepting that as a good enough answer, and the others he had...well, he could wait on those. For the moment, all that mattered was Whillow would be feeling better after his meal.

The sound of satisfaction drew his gaze, eyes opening...that shiver, the whip of his tail, all of it just drew his gaze in a way, like a predator eyeing a teasing prey, eyes gleaming as he saw that tongue again glide over fingers and clean away any leftover gore. It made focusing on those pointing fingers, the motions to the different things around them, a little harder to follow, but the meaning behind it was not foreign. Aether made up everything, by the Twelve, watched over and managed by Them. He turned his gaze to the little dragon as he hopped forward, right in front of him, hands on his hips, the soldier not backing away, looking down into those slitted pupils with eyes of silver, nodding in half understanding as--

He choked on air, his pupils shrinking to points, hand darting to his throat, swallowing heavily and then clearing his throat with a rumbling cough, slowly letting his gaze slide back to Whillow as he took a slow breath, finding he wasn't choking on those anymore, and managed to get out a weak, "I...see. Was not expecting that..."

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