He Chuckled At Her Intonation Of The Twelve, His Tail Flicking Good Naturedly As He Replied With, "Menphina

He chuckled at her intonation of the Twelve, his tail flicking good naturedly as he replied with, "Menphina has yet to fail me." His ears flicked, then settled, as he shifted slightly on his feet, leaning absently towards her, not touching her, but just close enough that he noticed, and shifted the other way on his feet, crossing his arms as he tilted his head. "I doubt they attacked unprovoked, more likely defended. There was no general call to arms at least... I just wonder where was attacked."

He rolled his shoulders, reaching up and adjusting his cap, then pulling it off, shaking his head like a dog as he let his hair fall back into place, the white tips gleaming until he pulled back on the cap, ears flicking and making it sure it rested just above them, not touching as he observed the injured, finally turning to Cyra fully, mouth open to say something...

His eyes flicked to her hands, the way they clenched, and he fell silent, watching for a moment as he let her go through...whatever she was going through. He didn't know her history, but something about this attack had made her uncomfortable, and he half wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder, comfort her, but he held back, knowing from the short time he had spent with her, it wouldn't be well received. He waited for her to calm before he spoke, his voice soft as he nodded to the door. "Come on, let's get some fresh air. We've done all we can here. And I can only imagine how exhausted you are."

He reached out, opening the door to the infirmary, opening it for her and holding it, as he gave her a soft smile.

Cyra's ear rotated toward the other Keeper who moved to stand at her side. Her careful eyes followed the direction his finger pointed her in. The way his hands shook was understandable. This job wasn't for everyone. It was messy. It was painful, and not every effort made would result in a life saved. These Adders were the lucky ones. Still, there was something the Grand Marshal hadn't told them before coming in to aid the urgently injured. It didn't sit right with her.

She let out a soft hum in acknowledgement of his statement. Observant as she would have expected a hunter to be. Yet, as he looked back at her, she felt the guilt on his words.

"Pray that the Twelve keep you safe from harm. The ones here are only lucky enough to have made it home." Her tone was even, the barest of anger peeking through as the emotion hung on her lips. "I hope the Grand Marshall understands the cost. And I hope that for his sake, this was not anything other than a defensive effort."

She couldn't stop her shaking hands from clenching at her sides, sharp nails poking at the skin but not breaking it. Cyra was not opposed to aiding the Adders in their defensive efforts if they needed more mages on the field, but she would not assist in an offensive strike. She knew the kind of destruction the Garleans were capable of. She had been part of it at some point, regretfully.

He had barely made it back to her when he noticed her agitation, the archer turning his blue eyes to her as he gave her a once over out of concern. Had the healing taken out too much from her? Was she sick, feeling down? His tail picked up her agitation, flicking in concern, no clue that she had heard his brief conversation as his ears angled up at attention.

He was just about to say something, to ask if she needed rest, when she spoke first, and left him thoroughly confused. Going? Going where? He raises an eyebrow, as if to ask clarification, until it clicked, and his eyes widened. "Wait, you could hear that!?" He gave a surprised look, staring at her ears, then over where he had been standing, scratching his head as he tried to imagine hearing that--she was a Miqo'te. He was an idiot. Of course she could have heard! He shook his head, dismissing his thought and question, as he thought about taking him with her.

It wasn't a good idea. He could move faster on his own, and not have to look over his shoulder to make sure she could keep up, and was hidden well enough to not get spotted. It would make it harder, infinitely so, and he lifted his gaze to suggest that maybe she shouldn't...come...with...

She was meeting his gaze. Holding it. There was no hesitation, just pure determination, disgust in her voice, and she kept holding his gaze even as she shivered in discomfort. He could see how her light fur stood up on end, how this was important enough to make him see how important this was to her. Even as her gaze dropped, his respect for her had risen, to the point that he had already made up his mind, his arms crossing across his chest, nodding to her softly.

"Alright, but, I need you to promise me a few things." He lifted his hand, holding up three fingers, wiggling his ring finger first. "If I say get down, you get down." His ring finger drops down, index finger wiggling next. "If I say retreat, we retreat." And finally, his index finger fell, and his pointer finger wiggled. "And last, we do not engage anyone or thing unless we cannot avoid it." He watched her for a moment, and then sighed softly, already tired, and knowing that what they did next would just make him more tired. "I don't understand why you want to go, but I can see it is important. And I know you can look after yourself, I'm not patronizing you with those rules. It's just..."

For a moment, he fell silent, glancing down, and then lifting his eyes again with a hint of hesitation and concern. "I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

Cyra's expression softened at his vow, regardless of how serious he might have been, she wasn't so sure of it. He seemed too carefree to really take it to heart. The thought was dismissed with the flick of an ear. She closed her eyes, listening to the gentle breeze that blew through the city, the gentle crunch of booted feet over fallen leaves and dirt. She took in a deep breath, feeling the air fill her lungs, calm her heart, and fill her mind with a temporary calm.

Her ear rotated curiously in his direction when she heard his footsteps recede from her side. Curious, her floral gaze opened to trail after that blond flash of tail as it moved back into the bustling headquarters of the Twin Adders. It was faint, but from what she could tell, a passing soldier had just...openly told the hunter of where the conflict had happened.

She felt her heart beat pick up in her chest. Pupils flexed momentarily into thin slits at the thought of investigating the battlefield. Larkscall wasn't a heavily contested area, but still the numbers didn't feel right for her. The level of injured had probably been a good indicator of the bodies left to rot and feed the forest. If they had any luck, there would still be Garleans scavenging the field for their lost technology.

"We're going."

That was all she said. It was firm, it held intent and disgust in its melody. Her hard stare locked on his for the first time. Cyra did not enjoy eye contact, but this was serious enough to warrant that connection. An uncomfortable shiver set her fur bristling for a moment. She broke the connection, looking back to the busy soldiers behind them.

"Just the two of us...we can go unseen."

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.

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

Ready to write!

REBLOG IF YOU ACTUALLY READ TAGS

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

“Trusted Command has earned… and Whillow has Feasted…” That blue tongue pushed between his lips slowly to lay at his bottom lip just a small amount before sliding back into the heat of his mouth - suggestively obvious for the bluff he played. How long would it take until his friend pushed him away? Till more of that hot-blooded heat flushed tender skin in such a fun reaction? It was always such a good time to tease!

He hadn't expected what Whillow had just randomly admitted, his eyes still looking away as if embarrassed, taking a moment to try and control that feeling as he saw from the corner of his eye the little dragon laughing, laughing at him. He felt that heat rise again, but this time for the sting to his pride at that laughter. He was used to being in control of his emotions, and he had dropped his guard with Whillow and he had pounced like a predator on that relaxation of his guard.

He turned, his scowl present, as the laughter finally subsided, and finding that Whillow's expression had changed, those slits mischievous, almond eyes locked on Bryn, and he found his expression turning from a scowl to a more concerned look, unsure what the wily dragon had planned. And rapidly, rapidly found out what.

Those light words were anything but light in meaning, the soldier's eyes widening, his body tensing, the slow pace Whillow took while approaching left him staring, watching how his tail swayed, his hips, every part of the dragon's body saying something, telling him something, suggesting something. The claws on his boots, the closeness of the dragon, essentially pressed to him, chest to chest, his heart pounding in his chest as he opened his mouth, tried to say something, and couldn't.

Claws dragged up his chest, wrapped around his neck, had the soldier hesitating, his hands lifting, darting to the gecko's hips, holding him, neither pushing him away, or pulling him closer. It was just to keep him there, just to make sure he didn't--

The little dragon rose, on his tip-claws, and the breath in Bryn's lungs froze, leg shifting, body shivering as that tail wrapped around his leg, held him close, whispered words leaving his mind reeling, thinking, entertaining. He eyed that tongue, the way it slithered from his lips, teased Bryn, and slipped back inside.

No. The little dragon did not get to suggest and tease without repercussion, he did not get to hint at what he was offering and expect Bryn to just push him away. His hand darted up to the Whillow's head, his neck, the back of it, holding him, pulling him up, close, his forehead pressed to his, his eyes, those silver pools, glowing, something rising, teasing, growling from his lips as he held Whillow there, his head tilting, his lips brushing the little dragon's pointed ear as he growled out, "Do no...tempt...me. Because I will...Whillow...take it."

The hand on his hips pulled him closer, pulled him right up against him, as he let the dragon press against him, press to his chest, to feel that beating heart, feel that pulse that beat wildly with interest, and slowly he let his face drift away from his ear, so close to the scaled cheek, before he felt his nose brush Whill's, and then pull back fully, his hand at his hip pushing him back softly, away from his warmth, but not off his boots, as he growled out just as teasingly, "Later. When I can have you to myself."

He whistled, softly, Featherflame trotting closer, fweeing with approval and readiness to go, Bryn jerking his head to the bird mount and saying, "Let's go. Unless...you are afraid of your new Trusted Command."