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13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

So he answered honestly, a wiggle of his ears as he huffed - not with pride but also not with embarrassment; something more akin to factual ‘what can you do’, though below it all there could be seen something of an acknowledgment of his own difficulty to the concept. “Nope!” The word was pronounced with a pop of the lip like he’d heard others do, paired with a shrug of thin shoulders as he leaned back into his companion as if his answer wasn’t just adding more work to his plate.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That 'simple thing' that had cracked him was still plenty strong as the little gecko leaned back into him, his arms around him, hands on his legs, all of it was reminding him of what Whillow had said, had hinted at, and he was having a difficult time focusing outside of that. He wore a scowl, as if to hide that conflict within, which would not have hidden much if Whillow could read his mind. He was so used to thinking over his decisions, his plans, carefully crafting them, making sure he had backups to the plan ready to go, but with Whill, with that little gecko dragon, he found himself unable to plan, to think beyond the moment, and mostly because Whill kept throwing him off that balance.

It wasn't bad. It was just...new. And he was having trouble getting this old dog to learn new tricks.

While his mumbled words had certainly warranted a response, he was surprised by the reaction. As he watched Whillow's head twist, turn, as if trying to process, he wondered if he needed to offer more of an explanation, which, he supposed, already answered his question. If he wasn't familiar with the word, he definitely would be unfamiliar with the practice.

When he pointed to a tree, asking if the wood was what Bryn had meant, he let out a little choked laugh, shaking his head in the negative. Oh boy, this is going to be interesting.

He had no idea what training, if any, the little lizard had received. In truth, he wasn't even sure he needed it. But at the same time, the wild ability and strength he possessed putting him a leg and arm ahead of anyone else, even if he was smaller than most. Honing that, focusing it into skill, could turn the wild beast into a deadly protector.

Bryn had done that before. Taken something wild, honed it, taught how to fight, trained day in and day out until she was something to be feared by her captors. So she could take her revenge. This time, it was something different, more of a notice that raw talent lay underneath, and he wanted to offer the opportunity for Whillow to learn a little of what he had in the army.

As they bounced softly atop his trusty steed, Bryn watched as Whillow silently seemed to think, to process, and finally, nope. The pop, the way it was spoken, it almost seemed like, with that ear wiggle and huff, that he didn't exactly care. He shook his head, in disbelief, wondering if he should ask Eljth about any formal training Whill had received, steering Featherflame towards a little clearing outside of the gates to Revenant's Toll. He didn't want to put on a public display, especially since his teaching methods could prove...unique. Not cruel, but tough love was often the most effective teacher in a combat situation.

"Very well, then I will teach you."

He let them fall back into comfortable silence, leaning into the lean back against his chest, his hands shifting on the little dragon's legs as he let his warmth soak into Whill, knowing full well that he was about to sorely test exactly how far the dragon's trust of him went.

They arrived at the clearing soon enough, Bryn stopping Featherflame with a gentle tug on the reigns, and she listened obediently, slowing to a stand still as Bryn tapped Whillow's leg. "Hop off real quick, let's do a quick little session. One focused on power."

The air was tinged heavily with the smell of blood, and the archer lifted a hand to cover his nose. He was alert, ready, unfazed by the aether travel, his eyes scanning around the relative safe area as beside him the air distorted, and out popped Cyra from the currents, the healer a little bit more fazed than he, given she had her eyes screwed shut until a few moments after she arrived, almost as if she did not like the faster version of travel. He would make sure on the way back they would take a more conventional method of travel, for her sake, if that was really the case. For now though, he needed to focus, and find out what had happened exactly.

He didn't have the senses that Cyra did, his more focused on the corporeal world than the aetheryc one, his ears flicking around against his hat as he listened carefully to the forest around them, his eyes scanning carefully, and finding...right now nothing. There was nothing out of the ordinary, at least to the eye, the ear, just the faint tinge of blood in the air and a sense of unease. The few people that wandered about Hawthorne's Cottage didn't look over at them, almost seemed to shuffle by faster. The Wood Wailers were on edge, and a few even glanced at him and gave him a dirty look, as if he was the problem, or just another one they had to deal with. Friendly as ever, he thought dryly, before turning to Cyra.

She was still looking around, observing, much like he had, although given how she seemed to have tensed before she opened her eyes, he had a guess that she sensed more than he did. Something probably to do with being a White Mage. Even without it, he felt uneasy, his eyes a little more serious, his smile a bit more strained, and his ears standing up at attention. He was quick though to strike out, in a small ring around the aetheryte as she got her bearings, getting his own direction wise before pointing towards the north east, murmuring "That way," and stepping up beside Cyra.

Right as she admitted she disliked it. That sense of concern, the way she seemed to pickup on it, it could be instincts, the smell in the air, but something about it... The forest, hunting, fighting was his home. It was where he thrived. It was why the lack of noise from the forest had his tail flicking nervously, the hairs on his neck rising, and his hand twitching at his side, as if ready to draw his bow and shoot. He was on high alert, listening to his surroundings carefully, even as he gave her a soft smile and tilted his head in understanding. "I know, I don't either." Some of that unease comes from her being there, but he wouldn't throw her into the wind now. Given how she had looked at him, she was serious about going all the way, and he didn't have the heart to deny her that.

He would just have to look after her and himself.

He took a slow, deep breath breathing in the scents around him, and letting his mind focus on them. He closes his eyes, listening and scenting, and...there. he could pick them apart. The blood, yes, but under it...the sharp crack of gunpowder, burning his nose. Around it, besides just the iron touch of blood, something a little more...solid. Burned metal? Hm, Garlean machinery perhaps, Magitek they called it. Abominations were the term Kaleh'a would do. And encompassing it all...oh, was that what she had sensed? It was there, at the edge of the archer's senses. His control of aether was not perfect, but it was enough to provide support to his arrows and encompass them with useful effects. So when he felt that unease increase while shutting off one of his senses, he wondered if that was the released aether.

Her words had him moving, eyes opening, heading towards the Garlean wall, his tail brushing over the ground, just above it, keeping it off the brush and leaves to not make a sound, but keep him well balanced as he moved smoothly towards the forest. His pace was easy, unconcerned for now, trusting his senses to alert him when he needed to be more careful, fully expecting to find lurking Garlean soldiers, or some manner of upset wildlife. Hopefully he wouldn't have to put the healer's magic to the test.

"Alright, let's move." He didn't say more, perhaps in another situation he would have, but with the info she had given him... Each death felt more meaningful now, and if it was really a large skirmish, a large attack, then the sheer number of deaths... He shuddered. He didn't envy her position in this. He didn't envy his. Especially since he had already decided to pay his respects to the dead Eorzeans. It would be draining, mentally, to see the dead, to pray for their souls, and to collect whatever could prove useful to the Twin Adders.

The last part he dreaded most, for the blood he would have on his hands, literally, from collecting the dead's fallen weaponry of personal items. But when it came to war, to hunting, there was one rule: waste nothing.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

Cyra's careful gaze scanned his face as he reacted to everything she had said. She hadn't realized that her answer ended up being a lecture for the poor hunter, but it seemed that the education had not fallen on deaf ears. That gentle turn of thought had been clearly written on his expression as he worked through it in his head. Now that she hadn't needed to reflect that wrathful determination that stained her soul to prove her want to him, she could don the sociable healer mask that kept her safe. The softened expression relaxed into a smile as they faced the large crystal together.

The Keeper nodded at his question, a quiet agreement that they would be traveling through the Aether had been briefly discussed. The urgency of this matter required that she not go by her usual method, which also meant there was a chance they would still see some Garlean stragglers sifting through the carnage.

Her attention snapped back up at her fellow Keeper who had stepped up to begin his own travel to their destination. She watched as the air warped around him before his form disappeared. Cyra only ever used the aetheryte system when the need was urgent, she didn't like the feeling it left on her skin as her essence moved along the flow that had been woven into the land itself. It always left her feeling like she had been dunked in water; like drowning in that aetherial sea.

She had already been attuned to this shard, and the one at the Hawthorne Hut. It was with a brief moment of concentration that she felt the air shift around her just as it had for Kaleh'a. She kept her eyes closed until the channeling had finished, and her light disappeared from the plaza in Gridania.

Holding her breath, she waited until she could see the glow of orange behind her eyelids before relaxing back into the world. The twinkle of aether set her ears wiggling and rotating as her feet touched the ground once more, and the smell of the forest had fully enveloped her senses. Her eyes fluttered open, the grip on her staff tight as she let out that held breath in a heavy sigh. Though they still had a ways to walk before they would reach the site of the conflict, she could smell the faint ribbon of iron in the air.

Is that blood, or just the aether that I'm sensing?

Her eyebrows had knit together at the thought, eyes narrowing into a slight squint as she tried to separate the smell from the physical sensation of the aether that bled out into the forest around them. Being that man had a far deeper well than normal flora and fauna, even a score of men falling by the blade would have released a significant enough amount to upset the Elementals. She could feel the anger and sorrow that colored their energy around her. Though her eyes had not been keen on catching the actual tendrils of energy unless displayed in far higher concentrations, she could smell it before she would see it sometimes.

As she regained her bearings, a brief glance around the plaza of the small village had granted her enough of an answer to her question of 'how intense was the scuffle?'

The downcast eyes of passersby, and even the wood wailers present to hold their continued post in protection of the peoples of the forest was a clear sign that things had not gone well from the start. She guessed they had to evacuate the wounded en masse using the aetheryte. At the very least, the use of it had granted them enough protection from that spreading thickness of disbursed energy to keep it from stilling the air around them. Her ears flicked before they flattened against her head.

"I...I don't like this." Cyra was unsure of speaking lest her soft tone shatter the delicate silence that surrounded them. Even the ambient sounds of insects and the smaller animals had settled into a viscous quiet that unsettled her. Her tail flicked, the fluffy end sweeping lightly across the ground before it curled up to prevent stray leaves from getting caught in it's longer strands.

"We'd best get moving. I can already feel the anger on the air." The healer hadn't looked at him, but she could tell from his hushed presence that the violence on the air had affected his usual joyful demeanor.

@musesofawolf

13th-dragon-prince--[[Prior]]

It was an instinct to scope out the world, and it took only a few moments to take stock of everything around; metals and crystals bound by rock and plant here and there to jump over, encircled walls to climb and scamper to hide them from the sight of the unknown, a nice flat area with small puddles of collected rainwater but nothing deep enough to swim within. A playpen just for them. Hands on his hips Whillow listened to the others as pointed ears picked up the sound of Featherflame walking away, that well known sound of those solid boots coming up to him with a shift in the Hyur's posture which made the gecko’s thin brows furrow as he turned with that curious blink.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The soft press of that weight to his chest and lap were comforting, welcome. He found himself...enjoying it, even leaning into it, as the dragon leaned into him. It was a familiarity he wasn't used to. One of someone who connected to him at such a instinctual level that he couldn't deny.

And Bryn felt a little bad.

Whillow had relaxed against him, closed his eyes, offered him that trust as Bryn planned to put him through the ringer, and he felt a little bad about it. But only a little. Especially after that tail curl had his breath catching and his eyes flicking down to the base of it. The damn gecko needs clothes. And he needed to get his mind back on focus. Thankfully, the gecko slid off the chocobo, landing easily on the ground, and taking a look around the area. His heavy boots followed, thumping against the ground as he turned to Featherflame, placing his gun on the saddle, tying it down, and then patting Featherflame's neck, murmuring, "Go on girl, you won't want to be here."

Featherflame looked at him with a questioning gaze, or as questioning as a chocobo could look, before plodding off with a little chirp, leaving Bryn to turn and face Whillow as he wandered around close by.

It was a perfect place to train, nothing but metal chained rocks, crystal, and flat ground with little puddles, giving them plenty of area to fight, to train, to begin teaching. His gaze scanned once more, just to make sure that they were truly alone, and then began to turn towards Whillow, and rapidly approach.

His foots thudded over the ground, walking straight through a puddle, the water splashing, letting that beast within him coil, curl, rise, his strength increasing, eyes sharpening, senses heightened as he took a step, landed within a fulm of the little gecko, his left foot slid forward, planted horizontal to Whillow, right fist suddenly cocked back, breath sucked in, and right as Whillow turned, his hips twisted, his fist flashed forward, and with a grunt, his balled up fist slammed into the petite male's chest with the full force of his body behind it.

And he sent Whillow flying. The heavy, but still small dragon didn't stand a chance, the force of the burly soldier's entire body devastating to a normal human, but to the keratin covered dragon, it was just enough to hurt, and send him head over heels through puddles, across rock, and finally coming to a rest about fifteen fulm from his original position, the slow, easy breath hissing from Bryn's lips as he shook his fist softly, calling out to him. "That's why you need to learn how to block."

He slowly approached the dragon, his fists coming up, loose, steady, protecting his face, neck, and chest, jerking his head towards the little gecko and ordering, "Come on, get up. You enemy isn't going to wait for you to get back to your feet. And protect yourself!"

Get up Bryn! Fight! You aren't going to be far away and sniping the entire time! His Captain, the one who had trained him, handed him a rifle after learning he could shoot, taking him under his wing and training him. He owed his battle knowledge to that man, his mentor, and now, now he would pass on that same knowledge to someone new, the same way he was trained. By beating it into him.

He paused for a moment, and then rapidly amended his statement, growling out, "No claws or teeth! You aren't trying to kill me, you are trying to knock me over, knock me down, take control. And I will be trying to do the same."

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Centrus stepped back to give the medics room to work. With this new information on the reaction to the gas, he had already begun formulating theories and conceptual design ideas to the enginneers for an apparatus to secure her deadly fingers for the next round. A sickening grin painted his features as he wrote.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Centrus had made a critical error in judging Bryn.

He was no Garlean soldier.

His preservation of Cyra was not to protect the commander or lead scientist, it was for his own, personal reasons. Reasons that involved his mind wrapping around pages of reports he would have to write, smuggle out, and get back to Eorzea. Reasons like finding out how to get Cyra out of this mess alive without getting them both killed. Reasons like his eyes flicking to the scientist, noticing that look, the questions behind too sharp eyes, and he forced himself to control those emotions within him. Forcing his face back to neutral. Stilling that snarling thing within him that begged for the chance to feel blood on its tongue.

Not yet, not yet, not yet.

The request for a medical team saw the soldier stalking towards the Commander, grabbing him, hoisting him off the ground by the collar of his jacket, and the man spluttering indignantly as the helpers ran off to get aid, and Bryn smoothed down his collar, brushed off the black jacket, and set his commanding officer right, even as that already red and bruising throat spat out vile words.

"Unhand my you bastard! You do not lay your hands on your commander like...like...like some animal who forgot the sting of the whip! I could have your head for--"

"You would not be able to make those threats, sir, without my intervention." That icy, cold, dread inducing growl of a voice stopped him cold, and the Commander cowered. He was right, he knew he was right, and...

"You will be punished!" The hiss of words, and Bryn only nodded.

"Fine, sir." His patted the Commander's shoulder, silver eyes holding his gaze as a bloody smear was left there, and the shorter man shuddered and stepped away, the flicker of fear on his face more than enough to tell Bryn that his punishment would be light, but likely annoying. There were little things worse than an unruly subordinate who had the ability to make your life hell too.

The scientist was already speaking when Bryn turned back to him, alrighty writing away with that damn grin, and red coated fists balled up at his sides as he slowly began to walk towards the man, his eyes blazing with a fire from within. This is not my work, he thought. If only you knew... His steps were slow, steady, the total opposite of the turmoil within. They would try again...and again. They would subject her to worse, and his right hand nails dug into flesh as he lifted his jacket to look at Cyra's chest, his eyes flaring with distaste and disgust. He was within a few steps of the disgusting man when the medical team arrived, a few steps from putting someone else higher on the medical team's response, his hand lifting, reaching, grasping...

He squeezed the scientist's shoulder, not hard, almost friendly, as his head turned, and he forced himself to spit, spit at the limp Miqo'te beside them on the ground, his voice calm and collected as he spoke.

"She is weak, to succumb so easily. But she is stronger than most... We-you, I mean, can make it better. Otherwise...what happens when we try to use it and half the Garlean army dies from self inflicted wounds?"

The Commander grunted, as if in agreement, approaching the duo as well, his arms crossed, eyeing Bryn like a dangerous snake about to strike. "He's...right... We can't report this. It's too unfinished. Dangerous. We need a better solution..."

Don't say it...do not say it Bryn... It is not your place--

"Perhaps..." Bryn's voice was quiet, his eyes dead, his body rigid. "Perhaps Commander, as my punishment...I will be the first to test the finished product? After of course our prisoner undergoes the final phase and is trained?"

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Cyra had stepped forward, looking at how all of the light had dimmed from his eyes and his face at the sight. It wasn't easy to see so much violence, even the aftermath of it, in one small space. Even for the tortured healer, this was almost too much. Yet she worried more for his untainted psyche, than the pain she bore in her own heart. He hadn't seen this, he didn't need to see this. This was a suffering she couldn't heal, the pain of reality descending upon the unknowing. "It's all right if you need a moment." She said softly.

There was no moment that could possibly allow him to process this.

And he had no inclination to stay and wallow in it any longer than he had to.

This was no small skirmish he had helped with in the past. This was no few injuries, one or two dead, and soft crying. No, this was the wailing of a nation as he stepped forward slowly, sinking down to one knee and staring at the field of bodies as his hand covered his mouth.

The majority of the dead left wore the black coats of the Garlean Empire, but his ears wilted at the sight of pools of blood with no bodies. A sign that the dead of Eorzea had already been collected, taken away, families getting reports of their lost loved ones. He choked, gagged, then turned spit the bile that had rose in his throat, rising, totally unaware of what Cyra had just gone through behind him, his ears flicking towards the sound of twisted metal, and then flicking back and away to protect his sensitive hearing, wincing lightly. Certainly no creak of an oak, he thought dryly. Her words, the silent order behind them, it had him turning, looking at her, his ears flicking up, staring at her for a long moment.

He wasn't offended. He was...impressed in a twisted way. She seemed so put together, so ready to go. As if she was used to this.

Was she used to this?

It was a concerning thought.

Her concern though...his hand lifted, reaching, pulling back, pressing a fist to his chest, looking away from those searching blue eyes as he shook his head, his eyes cloudy with emotion, with pain, understanding, but...his will was still strong. It was still there. And he would not back away.

He began to move, trudging forward, his boots heavy as he called back in a soft voice, "I'm fine. I'd rather move than stand still." And it was true. He would rather take action than sit around and think about how horrible this all was. Even if it meant staring at dead bodies.

And that was exactly what he did.

It was grizzly work, picking over fresh bodies, over cooling flesh, collecting what he could, what he could carry, spears, a rifle, a random keycard. Sometimes he could tell how a person died. Other times the body was disfigured past recognition. Sightless eyes were closed out of respect with two fingers. Soft prayers rose for the young men with fearful screams frozen on their faces. And curses were given for those with an extra "eye" on their forehead. There were far too few of those for his liking, his heart breaking for those conscripted into death.

About halfway across the field, nearly an hour in, he froze, something catching his eye. Black. Metal. Low to the ground. Unrecognized. He had never seen anything like it, some sort of Garlean device...but...for what? Half of it was broken, he could see that much, shattered metal on one side, the other more rounded, full. And he lifted a spear to poke at it, just to make sure. No reaction. Nothing.

Odd.

His mind zeroed in on that, the spear swinging with his gaze as he looked around, carefully looking, and...there! Another, but this one...a light was glowing. He slowly stepped, fulm by fulm, towards it, his eyes locked on the strange object, breathing out as the spear tip hovered towards it, closer, closer, right by that light, tapping it, curious, but careful, hands at the very end of the spear shaft and--

It sprung, a flash of movement, half the spear disappearing, and Kaleh'a leapt like a coiled spring four fulm into the air with a caterwaul of shock, dropping the spear and turning back the way he had come, almost on all fours as he sped away in panic, tail tucked, close, his eyes wide with panic as he went flying right past Cyra where she stood, channeling the aether around them, yelping out, "IT'S A TRAP!"

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

Though when he leapt high to straddle the fallen friend, he didn’t use claw or teeth; his tail wiggling to wrap around one of Bryn’s thighs as those raptored feet pushed his hips down against the other to pin him to the ground in that sense of fun victory, small hands splayed atop that broad chest as he looked down at the other with a broad smile full of teeth and mischievous pride. For a second he tried to speak but only a guttural noise of that unknown language came out, and the lizard’s brows furrowed before he tried again; “Yes?” A single word, as if asking for praise, for confirmation, excitement evident with those wiggled ears and slithering tail.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The return of trust to that silver slitted gaze had Bryn letting out a little sigh of relief, his gaze on the little gecko as he gave him an encouraging nod. I won't hurt you. I promise. Bruise, maybe, but not hurt. The wags of that tail only had Bryn's eyes lighting up more, a sign of the playfulness returning, his friend back, no longer that scared little thing, no, now he was ready, prepared, learning.

And he did learn. The way he took that criticism, seemed to understand why Bryn was focusing on this, recognizing that it was important, and it all was...surprising. Before, when training her, she had fought tooth and nail against learning. Yet here...Whill seemed to enjoy it.

At least, that's what he thought the shiver from horn to tail meant.

The tail wagged, those pointed ears wiggled, and Bryn readied his arms, his block, his body loose and ready to absorb the hit, the punch that Whillow threw as he turned into it, little fist flying towards Bryn, the trained soldier rocking on his feet back to lessen the blow and--

It felt like he got hit with a chocobo at full sprint.

One second, his feet were on the ground solidly, boots rooted to stone, body loose and ready, not tensed like so many fighters accidentally did, making a punch so much more devastating than it would be. The next he was thrown backwards, up off his feet, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent O, eyes wide with surprise as Whillow threw such a good approximation of a bunch the large Hyur male found himself knocked onto his back, skidding a few fulm, and staring up at the sun overhead. His arms were still up in that block, his brain trying to process, catch up to what had just happened, a slight ache down to the bones in his arms where Whillow's little fist had connected, and he let out a grunt of...proud surprise.

The laugh, loud and clear, announced the arrival of the lizard over his fallen prey, Bryn finding him suddenly atop him, clawed feet on his hips pinning him, and clawed hands on his broad chest as he looked up at Whillow, that tail around his leg noted, letting his guard drop and hands fall amicably to those thin hips, Bryn realized he was...grinning. Actually grinning up at the gecko as he laughed too. His eyes gleamed with pride, with acceptance, his breath returning to normal from the heightened state it had entered while in the air for that brief moment, the gutteral sound the little dragon made earning a lifted eyebrow, and then a snort at the single word.

Yes?

"Yes! Exactly! Well done!" His left hand lifted, ruffled through Whillow's hair between his horns, his eyes holding silver gaze to silver gaze, giving him an extra ruffle for good measure before his hands fell to Whill's knees, his laugh filling the clearing as he shook his head. "I knew you were strong but...damn, the last time I got thrown was by an underhand axe blow." He let out a low sigh, staring up at the sky for a moment, at a passing cloud, and wistfully saying, "I can't remember the last time someone actually made my arms hurt with a punch..."

It was true, his pain tolerance high, higher than most thanks to experience and his other half, and while his arms were sore, they were already starting to fade away, hurt less, but his eyes were full of life at that light pain.

So quick to learn! I mean, not perfect, no, but to get the basic motion like that...what more can he do? Kicks? He shuddered suddenly at the thought of that kick, the dewclaw on those feet turning from a useful tool to deadly weapon when speed and power were put behind it, and he didn't realize his hand had shifted to touch that claw until it was under his fingers, and he trailed a finger over it's curve. "You surprised me, Whill," he admitted, drawing back his hand. "And your instinct to pounce on a fallen enemy was good. If you can help it, when you knock someone down, don't let them get back up. For you it might be...more difficult because of your frame," he admitted begrudgingly, "but if you learn how to grapple...well, I don't think much could stop you."

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

“Whillow can be tighter.” By the time he spoke, those dark lips were close to that well groomed scruff, hovering a bit as he leaned forward to press a soft peck of a kiss to his friend’s cheek - chuckling at the sound from below him as his tail yoinked him harder to do so. “But training does not snap bone, hrm?” He could see the look of something in the soldier’s eyes, and it was with that blue tongue laid on his lip with a smile that his posture relaxed around his friend, letting him drop from his grip-

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There was more to learn about the little dragon, and Bryn found himself staring as those claws spread, revealed that webbing, and seemed to react oh so sensitively to his touch. He was surprised, had not expected that the claws would have that much feeling in it, the touch on his arms not even drawing a wince of pain as the bruised skin was already healing.

The wiggle atop him was not expected, and his eyes flicked down, up, away, suddenly aware of the position Whillow was in atop him, laughing with Whillow as if it could hide the expression on his face. It didn't, the little half frown, half grin, almost a grimace, as if he was trying to not think of something, which was very hard to do with a tail wrapped around his thigh.

He was not used to this, to this...feeling. And it suddenly got much, much worse.

Resist then, Prey. Unexpected heat, unexpected reaction rose in him, his eyes snapping to Whillow's as his hand darted out, grabbed one of those clawed ankles, his hand tightening around the petite scaled appendage, nails, almost claws, digging at scales as he felt claws around his neck, on his collarbone, not tight but there. He grunted, his eyes flashing, silver eyes glowing, his breath suddenly deep and labored, the feeling of that strong tail around his legs making his teeth grit with some sort of internal conflict.

He felt it, his body arching up, lifted, forced to stare into those eyes that kept drawing closer, his hand tightening around that ankle as he breathed out. "Whillow..." He wasn't in pain. No, he was just uncomfortable, in more ways than one, his eyes growing more and more bright, his breath harder, faster, body shuddering as if something barely controlled was gnashing beneath the surface, trying to get out as he shuddered again with strain.

It wasn't until he reached that peak A that Bryn managed to calm himself slightly, his breath heavy still but his body was calmer, less tensed, relaxing into the bend as he stared right up into those silver slitted eyes, his own still smoldering with that dangerous light as he felt those claws teasing his throat, his own flexibility likely surprising Whillow, but if he had listened closely, he would have heard a pop or two, bones shifting, changing, allowing him to bend more without breaking, those teasing lips and teeth so close...

He wanted to gnash back, to bare his fangs and push back, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Especially not as the little gecko leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

A kiss.

And his face lit up red, his eyes flickered, and the beast within let out a little whimper at the affection and yank of his legs.

The tongue sticking out at him, grinning eyes teasing words, released and-

Bryn twisted, spun, pounced, the little dragon under him in a second, hand around his throat like those claws had squeezed around his, his eyes flaring with that strength of something otherworldly as his legs wrapped around the backs of Whillow's legs, locking them down under him, straddling the little dragon at the waist, one hand around his throat, the other on one clawed hand, his breathing labored and as he leaned down, knowing full well that Whillow still had his tail and one hand free, the growl that rippled from his throat was not Hyur.

It was deep, animalistic, full of challenge and yet something roiled beneath it, those flashing silver eyes bright as he let the growl vibrate against one of Whillow's ears, slowly pulling back and releasing the little dragon as he breathed out, his voice normal, eyes no longer glowing, and his breath calmed as his legs untangled from Whill's. "First rule of scouting: do not fight what you do not understand. And I, Whilllow, you will not understand until tonight. Because we will train again. But differently."

There were things that Bryn could learn from Whillow, and things he could teach the petite dragon. And there was more, more there than he was expecting. His eyes gleamed again, rising slowly from the ground, brushing off his jacket as he rumbled out, "Understood?"

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Turning his attention from the man at his side, he stepped forward to instruct the medical team to grant her the same level of care they would offer their highest ranking official. His silent, but intense stare had been all the command they needed to know he was serious with his words. Quietly, he watched as they sped off, returning his attention to his clipboard while his assistants began hesitantly cleaning the mess.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He knew they hadn't begun trials. He knew that Cyra would undergo this again.

He knew he could do very little about it.

His eyes never left the scientist, not once, and he realized he was remembering his face. Remembering how he looked, his smile, his eyes that gleamed at the pain of others. He memorized his stature, how he held that pen, how he wrote and how he walked. He remembered the way he spoke, the cadence of his speech, every little thing.

He remembered the name, Centrus lux Primus, and silently decided then an there.

There was a bullet reserved for him.

He turned, facing the Commander, his silver eyes still muted, dull, anger gone from them, as he rumbled out, "Sir, may I--"

"Get the hell out of my sight." The Commander growled those words, sounding more like Bryn in that moment than Bryn did, and the Sergeant was quick to turn, not taking any chances and dismissing himself, leaving the Commander and Centrus to stand over their prized slave.

He wouldn't be there when they decided to pick her up.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

His room was quiet, even breathing hardly seeming to register to his ears as he sat at his desk. The pen in his hands scratched it's nib over paper, detailing everything he could remember, the path they had taken, the chamber, a rough sketch of the pipes and room, and all of the information he had gleaned from the scientists. He was sure to include multiple times the reason why the were making the serum, what they hoped to achieve with it, and the horrifying results. Despite the detail, he was careful to keep his mentions of Cyra short, brief, to "the prisoner" or some other non-identifying identifier. He felt like putting a name to "the prisoner" would be a violation of what she had gone through, a story he was not meant to tell.

It didn't stop him from writing three pages worth of notes, and then taking the notes and transcribing them onto five pages in code. The original three he burned, in the little warmer unit he had in his room, watching and poking any shards that tried to remain, careful to wait for the five pages of ink to dry, and then folding them carefully together into a neat bundle. It would be days before he could send it out. Days he would have to wait.

The report was hidden well, out of sight, out of mind, where no one would think to look, and only then did he shut off the magitek lamp on the desk and slump into bed. It was already well past midnight.

And he would be up early to check on Cyra.

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Darkened jaws of ragged metal rose up from the loose earth to snap up at the air above them. The sound made her wince as it cut through the air with a shrieking snap. It was a far more efficient version of the very same traps hunters and poachers used within the Black Shroud. The same things that she often spent her time wandering around to disarm and leave out for the Twin Adders to dispose of on their patrols of the border. The Garleans weren't so foolish as to incite the ire of the Elementals this far into their territory. Using explosives to hide under the dirt would have been a fast track to losing their castrums seated within Eorzean territory. "Think of it as nothing more than an elaborate bear trap, Kaleh'a." She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Look for disturbed earth along the ground and you'll come to find them far easier, I'm sure."

Kaleh'a had continued sprinting past Cyra, to a tree, leaping behind it, and peering out as he tried to beckon to Cyra to join him to avoid whatever other danger might lay out there, only to hear the amusement in his fellow Moon Keeper's voice as she seemed completely unphased and rather...used to it. He slowly, carefully, stepped out from behind the tree, approaching as she showed off a bit of her power, his eyes snapping to the stones as they floated and spun, hovering above another trap, eying the thing now that he knew what to look for, his steps light as the stones suddenly dropped, hitting the center of the trap and--

He jolted, jumping again as he hissed in displeasure at the sharp clang of metal as the teeth of it coming together, snapping up just like a giant bear trap, his tail bristling as he shivered at the thought of...stepping on one. It would have taken him out, left his upper half detached from the lower half, and he had to pat his waist to make sure that yes, yes he was still whole. Carefully he approached the triggered trap, running a hand over the metal of it, tilting his head slightly as poked at it, prodded softly, and then murmured, "This would...shit this could kill a Ziz..."

He could only imagine that these things would easily upset the balance of the forest, his eyes slowly scanning around as he worked to calm himself, soft breaths, calming his racing heart, his mind, and finally managing to get his tail to un-bristle and settle down, swaying angrily behind him as he shook his head and angrily growled, "This is...this is terrible! Why are they here? In Gridanian territory? What possible use could they have!?"

He turned to her, right as she wiped her brow, and his expression changed from anger to worry, noting her slightly paler face and beads of sweat, stepping a little closer and quickly asking, "Hey, you okay? I didn't see what you did but...I can tell something has changed." He wasn't completely lying, he could feel the air felt different, the aether more dispersed, and as he looked closer, he noticed her staff, or more specifically the focus, was glowing a lot more than it had before. He reached out, poking the stone softly, enraptured for a moment as he mumbled, "Oh, it's glowing now. Does that mean...its more powerful? Ah! I'm getting distracted!"

He quickly shook his head, and then pointed back to the trap, and quickly blurted out, "We have to tell someone about this! Or find all the ones out here! These are incredibly dangerous! If I had walked into one..." He shivered and his tail swayed unhappily, his ears slicked back. "I don't think even your healing could have helped me..."

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Cyra still turned her head to snap at the hands that came close to the ties that held the garment closed at her shoulder. Their words had become nothing but gibberish in her drugged state. She answered them with her own spat curses. It wasn't until one of the guards had enough of the primal display, stepping forward with the bite guard he had been instructed to keep on his person by the lead scientist. Grabbing a fistful of her hair and one of her ears, he pulled her head up, handing the mask to the medicus at his side. She hadn't much energy to fight other than shaking her head as best as she could. With the muzzle now secured over her chomping teeth, the man began peeling the bloody garment off of her, and then the bandage. She let out another yell, prompting the guard at her side to release her hair to cover his ears. Cyra would not relinquish herself to their touch without a fight.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn did not sleep that evening.

It was already late when he finished his report, and when he laid down...sleep didn't come. It hovered, on the edge of his conscious mind, his body aching as the events of the day washed over him, and he kept replaying it, over and over and over.

He had attacked a commanding officer, someone who outranked him, had nearly blown his cover over her. Her. Cyra. He couldn't tell why seeing her like that had seen such a guttural reaction from him, scratching his head as he tried to think through it, giving up on sleep as he thought through his...feelings. Protective feelings. Not completely odd, given she was Eorzean, and as was he. But it was more than that. There were other slaves here and he had walked past them, with sadness, yes, with pain for their plight, but not...not the same reaction as with Cyra.

He had spent more time with her. Seen how she reacted to his words, his help, his concern, his little ways to try and help, and he had seen how she feared him, feared his help, feared his touch, his words, his threats. She didn't understand what he was, what he was trying to do. He was just trying to protect her, protect them. And he couldn't protect them by being kind, by making her feel all warm and fuzzy. He had to play his part, his role, the man who would punish her for no reason, would make her fear his clenched fist while offering his open palm with the other hand. He could only hope that she understood, that she got the message. Today though, that would be ten...fifteen...twenty steps back.

By the time the sun rose, he was calmer, controlled, back to his normal stony face as he rose with the sun and slowly moved to dress--he had never undressed, still in his clothes from the day before, reaching down and brushing out his shirt, grabbing the one spare jacket he had, the other with Cyra, or whoever had taken if off her, and finally brushing down his pants before he clicked his boots together and muttered, "Well...at least I am still presentable."

It did not take him long to leave his room after that, the magitek rifle over his shoulder, this time going with his weapon for a bit of extra officialness, turning smartly and heading towards his first stop of the day.

And his least favorite.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"You...attacked...A COMMANDING OFFICER!"

Bryn didn't even flinch, his back rigid, his eyes to the front, staring not at the Commander, but just above him, his lips pursed in a tight line as he took the verbal tongue lashing that had so far lasted a solid five minutes. It was much the same thing repeated over and over, that he had defied the chain of command, had committed a crime worthy of death, and had called into question his loyalty to the Garlean Empire. Which, was all fair. What wasn't fair was giving him the same dry threat over and over.

"I should have you executed! In front of the prisoners! As and example!" Bryn had responded the first time, and he didn't the tenth, just staring straight ahead, waiting, and finally, the Commander stopped pacing, sighed with frustration, and sat behind his desk, pounding his fist against it. "That's what I should do... But not what I am going to do."

We both knew that after the first time you said it...and did nothing. Bryn's mind absently refocused, having drifted from the verbal tirade in front of him to more...peaceful thoughts, but now that it was drawing to a close, he was happier to focus fully and listen in. His silver eyes eyed the Commander as he blinked and waited, no surprise when the Commander met his gaze and finally continued, his voice a low angry tone. "While you did attack me, and threatened my life, you showed you were committed to your training of the slave, and making sure she was ready for my...command. Still, I can't let this go unpunished... So I am agreeing to the testing of the serum on you, the moment it is stable."

"Understood, sir." The first words Bryn said, and they were simple, bland, hardly worth the effort of saying as he still stood at attention. What came after confirmed exactly what the Commander felt about the situation.

"And Sergeant...I am going to enjoy watching the fight drain from you when the serum takes hold." It was enough for Bryn to meet the Commander's eyes, the cold, hard, angry eyes of a man belittled and betrayed, as silver eyes flashed with a threat of their own, before it was stifled. But the affect it had was clear, the shrink back, the fear that flickered across the Commander's face, and the slow press of a spineless back against the too large chair.

Bryn didn't even answer, only turned, and left.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It didn't take long to retrieve breakfast, for himself and his charge, before heading towards the cell block, stepping into the cold air that always seemed to seep through the metal corridor with her tray in hand, opening the cell door, and stepping in, eyes on the floor as he trusted his other senses to warn him if she tried to move towards him, rumbling out, "Breakfast. How's the-"

He looked up, and saw...nothing. There was no lashing tail, twitching ears, angry claws, no Cyra, no...anything. Her blanket lay crumpled in the corner where it was left the day before, ages ago, but she wasn't under it.

Had they moved her?

The tray was gripped in his hands, turning about face on his heels, striding from the cell and snapping to head down the row of prisoners trapped in their cold cells. And he stared at every one of them. In the eyes, if they looked up, a few reaching for the food, but he kept going. There was no blue furred Miqo'te. There was no Cyra.

The tray slammed against the ground, and his rifle was off his back, turning and storming towards the very office he had left minutes before, his eyes blazing as he felt a snarl rising to his lips. If she is dead, if she died, my promise to kill him stands, my promise--the infirmary.

He halted, skidded, his boots clanging on the ground, and he blinked, feeling his control return, as he realized there was one more place to go. To check. And as he turned to head back the other way at a brisk pace, his rifle did not leave his hands.

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

The Keeper had already spent a majority of her life living in chains. Joining some small band of misfits would have made her, and them, nothing more than easy targets. Part of her reason for keeping her home a secret, which Kaleh'a was kind enough to also stay quiet about, was for her own protection. "Have you a place in mind then? Considering you suggested we sit and chat, I'm eager to reject your proposition properly." She adjusted the strap of her bag, and the holster for her staff as she spoke.

It was a relief to be released finally, the knife sliding away from his neck as his hand replaced it, massaging the thin line of red she had left behind just from the blade irritation as he turned to face her fully, an easy smile on his lips as he managed to get a good look at her, noting she had to stand on her toes to reach him, and he couldn't help but chuckle softly under his breath about it. Short but feisty, how curious for a healer. Still, he couldn't deny that she was good at stealth, which, he supposed, could be useful for a healer on the battlefield. Although he hoped there would not be a battlefield she was needed on.

"Oh yes," he answered her first question, tilting his head in agreement. "Kaleh'a did mention you, and then we did our own research. You certainly have made a name for yourself, Cyra Lunastra." It was true, she had earned a name for herself by absorbing knowledge like no one else, making herself indispensable when it came to conventional healing, and enough of a name with her aethyrical power to draw the Scions attention when Kaleh'a mentioned her. Still, it did raise some questions about why there was so little about her personal life available. And given how she reacted to his questions, she was clearly displeased with knowing her work was starting to gain attention. Which made the whole lack of past even more...curious.

As she crossed her arms, moving back a respectable distance, he took the opportunity to sketch a soft bow, his brown eyes meeting her blue ones as he nodded. "Yes, that's correct, and--" He frowned, her immediate dismissal of his request, going to interject until she read his mind and plowed ahead like it was expected, steamrolling over his objection, but at least agreeing to hear him out, and with a sheathed blade. Better than a straight no, but not promising...

"I appreciate you hearing me out, Cyra, truly. And I hope I can convince you our cause is more than worth your time." He gave her a small smile, and motioned for her to follow, knowing a good place they could speak without drawing attention, especially since it seemed that Cyra did not like any sort of attention. He couldn't tell what was going on behind her eyes, in her mind, wondering why she felt so fearful. They were in a rather public place, or, well, just slightly detached from one, the bustling streets of Ul'Dah just loud enough to call his attention towards it, and towards the best location to discuss matters privately.

"Have you been to The Hourglass? Or, I suppose The Quicksand? Seems rather fitting for our chat, if you are so keen on rejecting me." He stepped off, heading for the street and the inn-tavern combo that drew many a merchant to it, glancing back at her as his hands fell comfortably to his twin blades on his hips. "That way you can watch the sand drain as I speak and time how long it takes for you to say no." Hourglass puns, terrible Thancred. But then again, he wasn't exactly used to getting such a firm no so quickly, especially not from beautiful women.

The silver-tongued bard was ready to win her over, not just because she was beautiful, but because she was denying him! He liked a challenge, how it added to the victory of convincing someone that perhaps he was right, and his words were not just honeyed for them. That he meant each one of those words. And of course he did! He wouldn't put effort into swaying someone if he didn't think they were worth the time. And as he glanced back at the blue haired Miqo'te as they hit the streets, she seemed certainly worth his time.

Does your muse find the idea of a secret admirer charming or off-putting?

Does your muse like pet names? Do they like calling their partner pet names?

(All!)

Kaleh'a: "Ooo! A secret admirer!" The Miqo'te seems to think for a long moment, and then grins. "I like it! I mean, I would like to know who, but knowing I'm admired even from afar is nice." He peers at the second part, an eyebrow lifting. "Pet...names? I don't have any pets. And what do partner's have to do with--oh!" His face flushes lightly, and he grins and laughs. "That kind of pet name! I don't mind them, but I can't say it's my first choice. I like the personal touch a partner's real name has."

Bryn: "Creepy, but in an amusing way." He shifts in his chair, a leg groaning in protest. "I can't understand seeing someone from afar, and not having enough courage to tell them, yet having enough courage to follow them around." He tilts his head. "I'd go with...off-putting, but only if they are creepy about it. As for pet names..." He leans forward, his voice a low rumble. "I've called someone 'kitten' before. As long as they like it, I have no qualms making sure they are called what they want to be called."

What personality trait/type does your muse find most attractive?

What is your muse most likely to notice first about a potential partner? 

(All!)

Kaleh'a: "Personality trait..." His left ear flicks as he thinks, eyes going distant as he tilts his head, and finally says, "Kindness. I always try to be as kind as I can be to those around me, and to find someone else like that is always the start of a kindred friendship. Now, what do I notice first about a partner?" He grins and leans in, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Two things, eyes and voice. These ears aren't just for show! I often recognize someone by their voice over appearance. And the eyes aren't called 'windows to the soul' for no reason! Danger, love, anger, sadness, they all lay just behind those little windows." He leans back and chuckles. "It helps with reading people too!"

Bryn: "Trustworthiness." It's a simple, one word answer, and he crosses his arms over his broad chest. "I'm not saying if you are trustworthy, I will look past other problems. But if you aren't trustworthy...it's an immediate deal breaker. Oh, and I notice a smile first. It sets the tone, tells you if they are faking or not, give you an idea if they are hiding something or not. Sometimes, it can be hard to tell but...I find it's a good indication more often than not. Plus, who doesn't want to love making a partner smile?"

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

"I'm sure the Adders know. This won't be the first time they've been in a scuffle with these scum." She couldn't fight the curl of her lip in reference to the enemy that laid dead. "They'll be back to collect their dead. We should return soon, lest we want to add to the number of stains on the field." Cyra's eyes scanned the carnage once again. The blood would wash away with the next rain, and the bodies would soon be gone from the dirt and mud. All that would remain as evidence of the conflict would be the broken machinery left behind as graves. Time would heal the land, and she hoped it would heal the hearts of those who had lost. She took a few steps back towards their path towards the Hawthorne Hut, waiting for her companion to follow.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

She swatted at his hand, and Kaleh'a could only grin at her, pleased he had managed to get her to react, to actually try and initiate a touch, even if it was to get him to stop doing something, his eyes twinkling at her as he noticed she looked a little better. Not great, and she definitely glossed over his question without an answer, but she was recovering enough to try and swat him away, which was good enough for the archer until they made it back to safety. He could check in again then, and maybe she would answer that time.

Although, her scowl made his ears flick back again, half expecting a scolding, but instead he was offered and explanation, one that had the tip of his tail bristling with indignation at he affront he Garleans were causing. "What belongs to them!? Nothing here! They don't have a single claim over--!" He calmed himself, recognizing the anger in his blood, his mouth popping closed mid sentence, eyes slowly closing, and after a deep, quick breath, he let it out through his nose and turned to Cyra fully, nodding to her in agreement. "They definitely do not belong."

His attention though was brought back to her focus, his head tilting as he eyed it, his interest in it evident as he hummed thoughtfully, nodding along with her explanation as he murmured half to himself, "A focus...I wonder if I put one on here..." His voice trailed off, but he was clearly thinking, brows furrowed, fingers tapping together as he thought through something, a blueprint of sorts, as his ears flicked at her words, hardly seeming concerned about loss of life or limb, only breaking from his stupor once she finished speaking, nodding worriedly, his gaze flicking about as his tail suddenly lifted from the dirt, hovering a bit higher off the ground now as if afraid it might set one of the unseen traps off. Anything but the tail!

She seemed to know a good deal about the traps though, and how to set them off, and as she spoke about he Adders, their knowledge of how they were placed or why they were there, her lip curling as Kaleh'a felt the same disgust in his chest, he couldn't help himself from asking as she turned away, ready to take her own advice of leaving the potentially dangerous area. "Cyra, how did you know about the traps? I was..." he fumbled the word with his cheeks reddening. "Well I was shocked, and frankly a bit scared, but you seemed to just...it was like you knew what they were before even looking."

He couldn't put it in words. And he wasn't trying to accuse her of anything. But she had reacted and acted so...sure, like she knew the danger, had expected it, or perhaps had seen it before. Any of the above only made his curiosity of the blue Miqo'te grow, to wonder how she knew about Garlean tech as he caught up and walked side by side back towards Hawthorne Hut, his blue eyes flicking to hers as he waited for an answer, silently wondering if he would even get one.

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Just as he explained, the Miqo'te began to fully relax. Her heaving breaths calmed, her writhing slowed, but her eyes remained locked open. Pupils still fixed into animal-like slits as her body would not let go of the fear and fury that coursed through her. She blinked slowly, and infrequently as she continued to fight the chemical calm that washed over her. Her bloody fingers fell nearly limp from Bryn's arm, but the force of her grip had left them fairly deep-set in his flesh. "Dangerous business being her Warden. I don't envy you, sir", the medicus let out an amused huff through his nostrils as he tucked bandages into his pocket. "By the time they're done with this one, you'll be covered in scars at this rate."

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was a rough few minutes, with claws shifting in his arm, blood dripping down the sleeves of his coat, another one ruined, as he grunted and bore it, the pain, the blood, the shame of getting injured by a tied down and drugged medical patient. But bear it he did, breathing slow, and deep, and after those few minutes, he felt it begin.

A tingling, in his arm, around where her claws were buried, and a warmth spreading up and down his arm. He knew what it meant, what was happening, as he felt aether trying to stitch up broken skin, heal bloodied wounds, staunch the bleeding and patch up his wounds. But there was no way for it to actually complete the task, since her claws were still in there, still keeping the wound active and painful.

It was an unfortunate stroke of observance that the medicus noticed his wound, frowning up at him as he looked up, shaking his head as he muttered, "It's a light wound, hardly worth your time. I can stitch it myself if it needs it." Although he did wonder when, or if, she would let go. He shook his arm lightly, and got a tightening of her claws into his arm in response, scowling at her as he felt the wound deepen, and realized trying to tear his arm away would result in a wound that would definitely need stitches. He glanced down over the still thrashing Miqo'te and slowly realized that things were a bit...different.

In all the commotion up until now, he had not taken a great look at her, but now that he had a moment with her holding his arm, he could observe her in her weakened state. She had always had a light covering of blueish fur, but now, it seemed more evident. Like he would be able to run his hands through it and feel the fur tickling his palm. Not to mention, from what he could see of her neck and back, her dark blue stripes stuck out even more. As she growled and bared her fangs, he noted the way they were sharper, longer, more animalistic, like her behavior. And as he glanced down at her restrained legs, he had to do a double take. That is not a normal mortal's feet. They had shrunk, not as long, claws instead of nails, and her pinky toe seemed...almost gone, hardly there, like it was half fused with the rest of her foot. It was the same for them both, and for a long long moment, he swore he recognized the look of it, that it was--

Her cry jolted him back to the present, and he looked up at the medicus as he took the syringe and slowly began to inject Cyra. He was both appalled and a bit relieved, knowing she would at least stop struggling and no longer be a danger to herself or him, but to use the medicine like that, so readily. He didn't show his displeasure, just holding her as she slowly grew weaker and weaker, her slitted eyes still full of fury until she went under, her claws dropping from his arm and leaving the wounds to spurt blood for a moment before he removed his other hand from her shoulder and pressed his coat into the wounds, frowning at the wound, then Cyra, and finally the medicus, displeased with how deep the wounds were and sighing in annoyance.

"Maybe I do need the stitches. Don't worry about an anesthesia, just stitch it up quick." At least with stitches put in, they would be less likely to ask how or why he healed up so quickly. They would keep scrutiny off him, and if he pulled out the stitches at the right time, it would look like an actual healing wound. He had to be careful, always careful, no matter how much he wanted to help her.

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

It wasn't entirely a lie, but it still hadn't been the entire part of the whole. Cyra may not have had the mind for understanding how most Garlean magitek worked, but having a familiarity with them from her history certainly helped. "Given enough time, and patience, I'm sure you'll come to find they can be rather easy to spot and disarm if you know what to look for." As indirect as it was, it was the Keepers' way of offering to teach him.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He saw it, the anger in her expression, the hatred, the tightened jaw and her clenched fists, an expression he was not expecting from, what he had in mind, a well mannered white mage. It was like looking at a completely different person, for just that brief second, before she managed to get it back under control, and he saw the anger bleed out of her, the tension in her jaw relaxing, and he felt his own anger follow suit, sinking down to his feet and bleeding out of his boots.

Each step he felt a little lighter, until he had that telltale sway to his hips and tails of a happy Miqo'te, his eyes still looking for traps, but his ears, their blonde tips had flicked up and focused on her, listening for an answer to his question, to his probe, wondering what exactly she would say, if anything at all. He didn't have to wait more than a few heartbeats of silent steps before she answered, and he turned his head to the side to look at her as she did, humming thoughtfully as he nodded slowly in understanding.

"Whoa... Studying under E-Sumi-Yan?" He fell silent for a moment, thinking over what that meant, that he was in the presence of a master conjurer's pupil, and he bashfully realized his leaping to her rescue, or offering to protect her, was likely a waste of breath. The chances are she knows plenty how to care for herself, he thought ruefully. Especially if she knew of the traps and I did not...

It was a tiny hit to his pride, if he was honest, the desire to know everything around him, about the Black Shroud, the best hunting spots, the dangerous beasts, and the trapping habits of other hunters strong within him, since it made him a better hunter. But to miss something like this? He shook his head, his ears flicking down, then up, and his tail thrashing lightly. "I had no idea they were so prevalent. Clearly I need to work on making sure my info is more up to date."

Already, Hawthorne Hut was within sight, but the offer she gave him was not lost on the blonde Miqo'te, and he smiled warmly, skipping ahead a pace and turning back, walking backwards slowly as he looked at her and nodded in excitement. "I wouldn't mind if someone could help me learn what to look for. Especially if there might be other pesky traps I don't know about!"

His smile was warm, easy, his tail flicking about, with excitement, at the prospect of learning something new about the land around him, even if it did have to do with an invading force. Plus, as they explored, he could find good trees to cut down, saw to size, and use to repair her roof! Hm, oak wood for the supports, some simple water reed thatch to go over it, and waterproof it with linseed oil. But I will have to check the underlying walls to make sure they are still good...

Lost in thought, he flipped back around, falling back to her side, his hands on the back of his head, and he looked up at the canopy of trees above them, the green filtering through as he sighed contently, and murmured to no one in particular, "One day...I'd like to come out here and actually go through the forest without expecting dangers or Garleans. Just...walk around and relish in the beauty."

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

Until Eljth learned the game that is. Pointed ears wiggled as the lizard swayed some with that ever flip-flopping docile mischievousness. A curious point to his reflection as he stared (squinted) to the sun, recognizing the time as a fair sum until true nightfall. Bryn was Hume. Hyur. He did not consume stone or crystal. Whillow pointed to his companion’s stomach unprompted. “Eat.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn was acutely aware of the tail that wrapped around him, already familiar with what it could potentially do, and he had no desire to see who was faster in rending a spine disconnected. The warning was enough, and he saw the recognition of it, that Whillow understood it was just a playful warning, and a small little promise that he could handle the rough housing himself.

It was an effort though to not think about that shiver, the reaction to it, the way it had felt...good with Whillow beneath him. It was that other half of him, the half that craved the hunt he had just teased, and he had to roll his neck, his shoulders, his body to try and pat it down, to get it to stop gnawing at its leash. It wasn't easy, given that the Hyur was teased by a rattling tail, making him question the heritage of the dragon once again. Snake? Or dragon?

At least he got a laugh from Whill, the Hyur now standing as he stretched, rolled his hips once and making sure the unnatural bend had not messed with his mobility, grunting as he found himself actually a bit looser, taking a step, then lifting the opposite knee high, and pleased enough situated himself back onto both feet. He glanced down at Whillow, the little lizard cross legged on the ground, holding his own ankles, and peering back up at him, and speaking words rather ironic to the soldier.

Night was his greatest ally as a scout, but for what he had planned, it was his worst enemy. As the lizard mocked his motions of brushing off, he snorted at the tapping of dark chitin, recognizing and having to admit that yes, the dragon had an advantage at night, one Bryn would sorely lack. But there were other ways to track tricky dragons.

Especially with silver eyes that saw through the dark better than most.

He was whistling for Featherflame as Whillow swayed and cocked his head, looking at Bryn like a curious subject to study as Bryn took a moment to shade his eyes and also glance to the sky, marking the sun, the time, and the time till night, humming softly to himself as Featherflame slowly trotted over and brushed past the-clawed-one before stopping in front of her master. As he petted her beak, the Hyur absently grabbed something from the saddle bag and bit into it, tearing a hunk of dried and salted meat from a rough cut square, right around the same time that Whillow pointed to him and said Eat.

Holding up the jerky, he lifted an eyebrow and rumbled back, "I thought I was looking after you, not the other way around." He took another bite, nonetheless, and continued to make his way through the jerky square as he glanced back towards Mor Dhona, wondering if they should head back, and a sudden idea hit him.

"Whillow, has anyone taken you to the market?" Bryn had two fangs of deadly beasts that he could turn in, two trophies to earn a fair sum of gil, gil he could use to entice the little lizard into learning about trade and bartering. Skills he doubted the kill-first-ask-questions-later lizard knew how to use. Plus, he could buy some things for the evening. A better coat, darker, and something to hide my scent. He had no idea if Whillow could smell him, or if he could track a prey by aether alone, but if he was going to hunt and be hunted, he'd take any upper hand he could get.

"I wouldn't mind turning in our hunt, getting a bit of gil and spending it. I think half for each of us is fair?"

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

"Not all regions of the Black Shroud are riddled with dangers, or invading Imperials", she took in a deep breath to further calm her nerves. "From the sound of it, one might think that I've lived here longer than you. I can show you some rather pleasant spots on a map once we've made it back to Gridania. I wouldn't mind a quick rest at the Roost." The beaming grin she offered him was small, but genuine. Even the shroud of death that had hung over them for a majority of their walk had begun to clear. Passing patrols of Wood Wailers and even spotting a small group of Adders on their way towards the darkened field had only set her mood to waver for a moment. The knowledge that she had done what she could for the injured and the Elementals had been enough to keep her spirits far lighter than if she were alone.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Her words were kind, and her smile, while small, was warm, true, and it made his own smile grow, his ears flick with excitement, and his head tilt this way and that. "Well, I have lived here a long time, but in my own little corner of the world. Gridania is my first foray outside of it." He tilted his head, and walked for a few steps, before he murmured. "It was peaceful there, just simple days, the worst to happen a passing beast or two. Traveling away from it was eye opening. Almost depressing with how...different it was. Sometimes I wish I could go back." He falls silent again, now almost to Hawthorne Hut as patrols pass them, heading for the fields, barely marking the Adders and Wood Wailers. He was lost in thought, about his past, his time at home, and the struggles since leaving it.

Still, deep down, he did not want to go back. The draw of the world unexplored, of beasts to find and take out, to help those around him. It was something he enjoyed doing, danger and dislike be damned. He was not one to run away with his tail tucked between his legs and - his tail, swaying agitatedly with his thoughts, accidentally flicked too far, smacking against his companion's leg, and he jerked, taking a step away, and quickly apologizing for the slight. "Sorry! Uh, caught up in my thoughts." He gave her a slightly wider birth as they entered the relative safety of the Hut, returning to her earlier words with a nod.

"I could use a drink too, after all of that. I think my tail is still a little scared. Those traps were so...vicious." The offended appendage lifted up a little, lion's tip flicking about in trepidation despite their safety. He hummed softly to himself, the keeper of the moon turning towards the Aethyrite as he called back to her. "All in all though, I think you did good. With the aether and all. I'm really impressed! Thanks for letting me tag along."

In truth, he still had questions about her, ones he could not ask outright. She seemed so nervous, yet so on top of herself. Too reserved to be a native of the forest or Gridania, but the house, the way she spoke, it was clear she wasn't new here either. Still, the mention of her past, just in passing, was enough to pique his interest, to wonder what she would reveal over a few drinks. It never hurt to know about your friends, and he would like to consider her a friend!

Reaching the Aethyrite, he turned to her, and smiled softly, nodding to it. "Well, ready to head back?"

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Of course, the man had no idea he was operating on a limited window. Despite the heavy dose they had used to calm her, she was already feeling control over her body returning. She felt how the stitches tugged on her skin as she tried to move. They itched as she weakly shifted and pulled against the cuffs on her wrists. She growled--well, she tried to growl. What came out of her instead was a whispered grunt as her slitted gaze searched blindly for something. "I'll be back in a few minutes," the man sighed as he left the room.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn hadn't denied the anesthetics to be tough, or show off. It was simply because the pain numbing medication would not work in the dosage offered. He held out his arm so the medicus could work on the gash, barely flinching at the prick of the needle, no words needed as the man worked his skilled hands up his arm, until the wound was sealed up, threaded together, and the soldier tested his motion by flexing his arm. It worked, barely pulled on the stitches, and left him with a full range of motion. He had to admit, it was nice and clean, and well stitched, a soft grunt at the words the thanks the medicus got, especially with the more or less order to watch Cyra following right after. "I can watch her..." he rumbled out, approaching the guard he had shoved his gun to, and taking it back, moving back towards the table with a soft sigh as he took a seat near it, but far enough away that he wouldn't have to worry about her claws.

As the medicus left, leaving just Bryn and the other few guards there to watch the wild charge, he couldn't help but look at her laying there on the table and wonder what she was feeling right then and there. Was she hurting? Did she even feel the stitches? Had she meant to nearly kill herself? All questions he couldn't ask an injured and unconscious subject. So he was just left with his thoughts, staring at her as she stirred slightly, and he silently mused over everything that had happened.

Perhaps he did not understand the Garlean way of thinking, their obsession with results over safety. Or maybe he had a soul deep down that did not want to see someone so weak and innocent forced to become something they weren't. It didn't matter. All that did was that he was trapped her just as much as she was, regardless if he could wander the Castrum without chains or collars.

He'd find a way out for them both.

For all of them. Every prisoner subjected to this horror.

13th-dragon-prince - [Prior]

This was not Ul’dah, the merchants they would speak too would be those of Revenant’s Toll, already well knowing of the scaled fool’s penchant for lacking cloth or interest in the chill. They would know him for blades of teeth and friendly laughter with hatchlings. He was no ‘sunblinked mind’ of a ‘foreign Au Ra’ like when they had first arrived in The Source. Again the hand was waved, claws tapping against the metal of wolfish decorations, and the lizard made for that plumed mount as ever before, apparently no qualms to the idea of heading to market despite his vocal distaste.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn was still chewing the jerky when that blue tongue stuck out teasingly, and he snorted in response to it, finishing off the food as he glanced towards Featherflame, at least until there was a disgruntled noise, and Whillow spoke.

The way he clipped "market", the roll of his eyes, it was clear he didn't approve of it, or liked it. Bryn had half a mind to ask why, but it was answered before he could, his lips twitching slightly at the mention of smells, sounds, and lies. Maybe he thought bartering was lying? Or truly believed the vendors were hiding something. Dull teeth... Wonder if I'm in that group.

He placed a hand on Featherflame, watching the little gecko cross his arms, slap that tail, and assume a disgruntled air. As if in memory. Which made Bryn's mind wander too.

He remembered the first time he had held a coin purse, felt the weight of gil in his hand and...nearly salivated over it. Growing up poor, with barely enough to survive when he was too weak to provide for himself, had left him with an odd sense of money. For a long time, he spent every gil he had, the salary he made with the Maelstrom flying out of his fist as soon as it hit it. And it took years, years of learning, of finally coming to grips with having gil - and a healthy dose of lectures from an Elezen friend - before he actually kept a surplus. Tucked away, hidden, in case of emergency.

The chuff of air, the narrowing of silver eyes, it made Bryn refocus, come out of the trance of memory just in time for the wave of clawed hands, and the press of one to his belly. His eyes flicked down, to the touch, wondering what it was for, or, wondering if it was to check his fullness. Could the little dragon know that just from a touch?

Although, the declaration of not needing gil did raise the question of who, or how, Whillow got food, or cloth - Oh, right. He didn't wear clothes. And with his natural hunting ability, perhaps he didn't actually need the market.

The other half though... He frowned, deeply, his eyes flickering a deeper silver, an angry silver, as he growled under his breath, shaking his head. "Anyone gives you a look like you are property, let me know. I will be happy to remind them that you are off limits."

It was with that thought in his mind that he swung himself onto Featherflame, lost in thought as he situated himself, waited for Whillow to mount as well, and then head off.

And of course, Whillow made sure the ride back was...as interesting as the one out. With a slightly flushed face, Bryn was petting Featherflame, already off her and draping her reigns over the hitching post, a few tied chocobo giving the red one envious looks as she preened like she was better than everyone else, and once he was certain she was situated, he was moving, heading towards the market and trusting the absolute tease of a dragon would follow.

The first of three stops was simple: selling the dragon teeth. The teeth themselves were not what drew a bounty, but the proof that the dragon's they once belonged to were dead. Handing them over to a specialty merchant who, after a brief description of where he could find the carcasses to collect any materials he might need, handed back two bags of gil (one decidedly larger than the other), and Bryn turned back with both, ready to split and give half to Whillow, only to be reminded by the gecko's acute lack of interest in what he was doing that he did not care for the coin of Eorzea.

Looking between the sizeable amount they had both just earned, he pocketed them, and then fixed Whillow with a stare, rumbling out as he moved towards the next stall he would call on. "Tell me, if you do not want coin, then what would you prefer instead? You helped bring down one of the dragons, and that means you deserve a payment beyond just your meal. So, by the time we leave the market, tell me what you would like, and I will give it to you." Nodding, he moved on, content to let the little lizard think on what he wanted his prize to be.

It was, in all aspects, a short trip to the market, Bryn swinging by two well known stalls to pick up a set of darker clothes, a coat similar to the one he wore, but in a deeper, darker black, forgoing a new shirt since the navy blue was perfect for the dark of night. However, if he was to truly hide...

For a few minutes, he was haggling, going back and forth with the stall owner over a thick, wide, well cut pelt of ink black fur. It was easily three times the size of the Hyur, clearly meant for a large bed, and the price for it was not cheap. But it was worth it, he figured, for the temporary use, and for cold nights on the road.

He finally got the vendor to agree to a more reasonable price, and he collected the large pelt, rolled nicely, after handing over the necessary coin, humming softly as he turned back to find out where, and what, the little dragon was doing in the place he clearly did not enjoy.