Dragon(s)layer
14
Technically, this wasn't the first time a woman had slammed her ass in his face. But with the force of the blow, and the gradually developing black eye smearing his left side, it certainly felt like a fresh and painfully new experience.
He had an urge to tap a finger on the wound, but he couldn't even manage that.
The line of rope that the other dragons had tethered him up with didn't make moving in any kind of way an approachable option.
At least he could still wiggle his toes….
….But fuck all else.
They'd even taken all his nice new toys. A pile of Ape weapons, his empty pistol, their rations, and a handful of his regen-injections sat in a pathetic pile nearby as if to mock him.
"'Scuse me there, Sally," The Fallen croaked, slapping his tongue about his dry mouth. Why couldn't one of those fleabags I shanked have dropped a canteen? "but I have a really bad itch on the bridge of my nose right here."
"Ha! Yeah, right, nice try, alien." Corrinthol laughed. "Nobody's falling for any stupid tricks like that."
"That's its nose?" Torrdonal gasped quietly under his breath.
"Maybe if we could at least reach a point where I'm not an it but a him." The Fallen suggested with a defeated sigh, slumping against the rope.
"Not a chance." Corrinthol lowered himself and grinned wickedly at the Fallen. It seemed that no matter what expression the cocky fire dragon held, much less an antagonistic one, that he always broadcasted the words shiteater. He had a shiteating face and a shiteating grin.
Everything about him was a capital class douchebaggery alert on big, red legs with banners high and flying. The Fallen didn't even bother trying to take anything farther than it went with him. There was no point.
"It does sound masculine." Torrdonal said impartially, stepping up beside his more aggressive comrade to peer at the Fallen inquisitively. "Basic respects might be due where they're due, Corrinthol."
"I like this guy." The Fallen harrumphed. "I should have been talking to you from the getgo."
"You see what he's trying to do? He's trying to manipulate you, Torrdonal!" Corrinthol swatted the water dragon upside one of his horns. Torrdonal clicked his tongue indignantly and stepped back with a paw on his head. "I've heard tales about people like him. At the academy, professor Cyrila always yapped about it. Cold-folk up in the mountains, Apes, but with no hair! Apes that could reason and didn't answer to the Dark One over the Ancient Sea."
Corrinthol looked triumphantly down at the Fallen, whom, for his own part, was raising a brow at what he was hearing.
"He's from the tundra. He's got to be." Corrinthol smirked.
Shiteater.
Torrdonal sat on his haunches and opened his mouth to say something. It was probably geared up to be a complaint about the unneeded swat of his headwear, but halfway through he paused, his eyes looking the human over.
"….I don't know." Torrdonal scrunched his chops in thought.
"Oh come on, look at him! That… thing he's wearing on his skin? It's probably enchanted to deal with extremely cold temperatures."
It was the Fallen's turn to pause with the proverbial finger in the air. Technically, the shiteating fire breather wasn't wrong, the discussion he'd had with Spyra the other night came to mind.
He used to like to joke that his gear only lacked the pleasantries of a cupholder.
Used to. Before the pods, and the crashing and… getting tied the hell up by a bunch of dickhead reptiles.
"Well that means he isn't with the Dark Army." Torrdonal didn't say this hopefully. He was a very impartial and neutral party in pretty much every discussion that happened around him, the Fallen had observed. "I thought one of the tenets of the Northern Military was advocating for the freedom of choice."
"Did you record that word for word?" The Fallen blinked.
"Silence, prisoner! And that only applies to other dragons." Corrinthol brushed it off. "Except Night Dragons, they're exempt on account of betraying the first Guardians during the Ancestral Great War millennia ago. But I only know that because everyone at the academy never shut up about it."
"It sounds like you have everything figured out." The Fallen creased his lip. "You do exude a sort of tactical willyness about yourself… what was your name, Corrinthol? I'm speaking plainly off my own opinion, but, sir,"
The Fallen's ropes creaked as he leaned as far as possible with the lowest voice he could manage.
"-you could probably do your Captain's job a whole lot better."
"….Uh, Corrinthol?" Torrdonal bit his chop.
This look was blooming over the fire dragon's face. And it was a look that made Torrdonal extremely nervous, and the Fallen extremely hopeful.
Corrinthol was smiling.
"Could I now?" The flame dragon sat on his haunches, scooting closer to seat himself in front of the human. Torrdonal gasped when a slight hissing of scales against the cobble stone floor sounded out. Corrinthol's palm was to his shoulder and was very slowly, but deliberately, pushing the water dragon soldier away.
"What are you doing?" Torrdonal asked.
"Say, Torr', give me a minute with the prisoner, would you? It's rare that you find a fellow of similar taste, even if they're an alien." Corrinthol finished pushing and made a shooing motion with his paw.
"But, what about the prisoner potentially manipulatin-"
"Go play in water or something."
Torrdonal shivered and gave off a tiny panicked gasp. The water dragon rose to his feet and quickly padded off back inside the temple lobby, leaving Corrinthol and the Fallen alone.
"What's up with him?" The latter nodded.
"Figure a water dragon terrified of water." Corrinthol scoffed sourly. "He's been terrified of drowning since he was a baby. At least that's what he tells anyone who asks. Anyway, that's not important. I appreciate you seeing things in a greater scope. How it really all works? You know I'm saying?"
The Fallen was smiling, but in his head he had already conjured a make-believe hammer and had murdered this dragon sixteen times with it. Headshots made things quicker, so he aimed for knees and elbows first.
Corrinthol was waiting for a response, confidence riddling and dripping from his grin like thick syrup.
Shiteater.
"Of course I do." The Fallen nodded enthusiastically. "You were so fast when you expertly mounted that ambush tactic from the ceiling. I have military training too, you know, and as an offworld traveler, I've seen quite a lot."
"So you aren't from the tundra?" Corrinthol sat back, his tail curling.
"Unfortunately not." No you stupid, ugly, inbred sack-a-shit. I'm going to find your family, decapitate your siblings, burn your crops, and find your mother before I bend her over and- "-But where I can offer praise in your technique. Your execution of melee combat shows much promise and development. You have to tell me what this academy back in Warfang is doing to produce such top example soldiers."
Corrinthol made a pleased- "Ahhhh." –sound and settled in on his haunches for what would most likely prove to be a prolonged, and agonizing discussion.
"You have to know, I don't really try a whole lot, it's in my nature, to outperform." He explained. "I've always told myself that I have to hang back, especially with all the nice tail walking around. Being average on purpose raises morale. You're not letting the others down too much by making yourself applicable to their level, you know what I'm saying?"
"Oh, certainly." The Fallen scooted closer himself, straining the lines of rope. "I know we don't have any writing utensils out in the wilderness like this, but, you have to draw out for me your technique. How about on the dust right here, by my foot? Ancient ancestors won't care about some floor-doodling this late stage in the game, amIright?"
{🐉}
"Believe it or not, my journeys here were purely out of a concern many would call evanescent." Ignitia hummed, motioning with her snout to a little sash bag hanging from her hip. "To protect the records of the ancestors and the Old Guardians. Every time we canvas the site of the Dragon Temple we always recover some small piece of our own history. The Dark Army is rarely thorough in their razing, and so I have been leading the intermittent journeys to rebuild our own history piece by piece, as it is the only real option Malefora's occupation has left us with."
"…Yeah, that's real swell." Spyra looked around herself nervously, in particular, glancing back at Morinth. The black and silver dragoness who was to be her escort.
A.k.a, the one with a wing open ready to snatch the purple beastess should she try to scamper away, like a disobedient gerbil.
Morinth smiled at her uncomfortably when she made eye contact. The dragoness reminded her a little bit of Cynder. She was darkly scaled, slender, had emerald eyes and similar looking horns, even though there were fewer. Spyra never remembered being this self-concious before about her own and other people's appearances.
But then again, her entire life had gone by up until now in the company of sentient insects small enough to fit in her palm.
There was a lot off about that, but it was unimportant in contrast to here and now.
She had asked the sky for dragons. It had given her that and more.
"Are you well, Spyra?" Ignitia's matronly voice snapped her out of it. The flame dragoness was looking at her with a doting kind of expression. Frighteningly, and much to her guilt, that reminded her not of Cynder, but of Cometcu.
Mom. Spyra didn't want to admit wishing she was here right now.
"I'm just a glamorous ray of fuckin' sunshine, lady." Spyra grumbled. Behind her, Morinth gave off a heavenly laugh.
"Cheeky that! I like her. She's got some moxy to what she has to say. Not enough women these days with that kind of outlook back home." Morinth winked at her. "Maybe once we get you acclimated, me and Tali' can show you the ropes."
"Acclimated? What's she on about?" Spyra turned back to Ignitia, the larger female huffing as she came to a full stop in the center of the chamber.
"That is just one of so many questions I know you have." Ignitia gestured around the large chamber, one leading off from the lobby where the fighting had occurred. It was dome shaped, with a roof made of cracked, but mostly intact amber glass that showed the sunlight through brilliantly. "But before I can answer all of them, I must ask you something; do you know where we are?"
A sad sigh from Morinth lowered the energy of her smile. She wandered a step from the interaction and gazed around the empty room dotingly. Spyra followed her eyes and tried to pick out a clue.
Old, curvy shelving units once lined the full length of the walls all around the chamber. Many had fallen down in sections and were gathering dust in pieces on the cobble floor. A quad of dais plats centered the room with ancient looking symbols engraved on their surfaces. The remains of a mural depicting a spheroid shape marred the northern wing's wall. The entire structure bled with draconic architecture.
"….If I answer wrong, like, what, are ya' gonna' slap me or something? Let's just establish the boundaries before I get into anything." Spyra raised a brow.
"Certainly not!" Ignitia had a lovely laugh. It was very lady-like. Composed. Spyra had a feeling she'd seen some shit. "Try to take a guess. I'll give you one, and then I will tell you."
"…A ballroom?" Spyra sniggered like a juvenile, pointing at the mural in the back. "Get it?"
Morinth chuckled dryly and fully sauntered away, stepping before one of the shelving units to seemingly bask in its presence, suddenly very thoughtful. Spyra switched her gaze between the two other dragons and shrugged her wings.
"Don't tell me it was a bread pantry or something."
"No." Ignitia smiled sadly. "It is not a ballroom or a pantry. Though with the latter, it is wholly similar. It was wholly similar."
The Guardian sat on her haunches and curled her tail around her ankles, nodding gently for the floor in front of her, and patting it with the leaf-like splay of her tail's tip.
"Sit." She beamed, her expression bright and calm. "We have time before anyone chances a look at this place. I want to tell you a story."
"…Storytime? Pfft, now?" Spyra jokingly grinned, looking back at the archframe they'd walked through, and then at Morinth, who herself no longer looked amused, but somewhat concentrative. "Holy shit, you are serious. Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but you have my friend lassoed to a pillar in the other room and have pretty much refused to let me leave since the lot of you ambushed us in the lobby. I'm sorry if your friends list is so small that you've turned to such aggressive tactics, but me and that alien have stuff to do."
"Would you have me leave, mam?" Morinth asked, ignoring Spyra's rant.
"I think the Purple Dragoness has proven herself a civil conversationalist when all misunderstandings are put aside." Ignitia smiled pleasantly and folded her wings. "If you would be so kind, Morinth. Also, do inform the Captain that we will be making return preparations soon, please."
"Yes, mam." Morinth smiled at Spyra and then walked out, her talons clicking on the cobble until that noise too left them completely.
"I realize that in keeping you here and binding your traveling companion, we might have come off as a bit… forceful." Ignitia cleared her throat. "But you must understand that we are locked currently in a time of war. Battles rage in the north, and they claim many lives. We must stick to caution before assumptions. Not thinking proactively can get people killed."
"Sure, I get that, being prepared, I've been exploring these swamps since I learned how to talk." Spyra edged a brow, seating herself a little farther from the Guardian than she had affectionately suggested earlier. "Hazards leave no room for error. But this is a little different. I'm gonna' take a wild guess and say you've got a decent clue about that crazy dyke with the runes branded on her ass who's trying to blow this place up. Me and the Fallen are on a quest to stop her and save my home. You're interfering with that."
"Then perhaps we might start the conversation off with a bit of a compromise." Ignitia eagerly scooted a bit closer. Spyra didn't like how the older dragoness was looking at her. It looked like Ignitia was holding herself back from something, like she was desperate to… to hug her. "We both are risking very much for things very important to us. We both have friends and families, it seems, and we both are chancing fate by putting trust in others to keep them all safe. All I ask, is that you allow me to tell you something."
"Tell me what? What this stupid room was for?" Spyra rolled a paw around and huffed. "Lady, I can't even think about that right now with everything that's happening. Like, ka-blamm~! Complete mind-fuckery level stuff I'm talkin' about. I mean, I almost had an alien that I'm strangely sexually attracted to crush my face with an asteroid, despite the fact that he kicked me into a mud ravine a few days ago. Then a bunch of monkeys tried to skin me, and then I got showed up by big-ass up in the Tower of Doom, and now I'm being held hostage by the first good-guy dragons I meet in some ancient, runic fuckhole."
Spyra might as well have not have spoken. Vulgarity and insults included, it all brushed right off Ignitia's face fins. She was still smiling warmly, like she was regarding a child, sitting on the floor, gradually getting closer and closer as to elicit physical contact.
Spyra's eye started to twitch. She immediately backflipped and went to curse the broad out. She was silenced with a startled grunt as Ignitia's tail wandered over and curled protectively around her flank.
"…And I was scared of the Fallen molesting me…" Spyra pinched an eye shut and grit her fangs. "Back off, lady, you're giving me the creeps."
"What? M-Molest- NO! No. Nononono… oh no, never… never anything like that to you…" Ignitia held out her paws apologetically, but she inclined her snout and lowered them respectfully. "…I apologize. I have been living for a very long while under the assumption that you were dead. That the only egg I managed to save had not survived. To see you now? Well, healthy, and so vibrant! It's… so overwhelming."
"You? It was you?" Spyra was upright, her tail lashing behind her as she gazed at Ignitia with huge, purple eyes. "What do you mean it was you? We're talking about the same thing, right?"
"I placed your egg in the basket." Ignitia smiled, stifling a cry. "I was the one who floated you down the River of Amber. I was the one who tried in the only way I could to keep you safe."
"…Well how long were you gonna' wait to drop that fat one on my head?" Spyra plopped back onto her ass and blinked at the floor. A long while passed before she spoke again. This time, her expression was lofty, and she looked back up at Ignitia in wonder. "….wait… so…?"
"Yes, Spyra?" Ignitia couldn't scoot any closer now. Spyra's nose might as well have had a pair of cinnamon sticks shoved up each nostril.
The purple reptile quivered as she held out one of her paws, and quickly- perhaps too quickly –Ignitia reached up and cupped it in her own, an expression of joy written on her face.
"…T-That means…" Spyra's lower chop quivered.
"Yes?"
"….M-Mommy….?"
….
"WHAT?! Oh, no. No. No that isn't- Oh, shit-" Ignitia stuffed a fist in her mouth and reclined backward, blushing at her own French. "…Uhm, Spyra, I… I think we lost each other, somewhere down the way… I…."
"...yeeaaahhhhh this isn't horrendously awkward at all." Spyra slowly put her paw down and scratched at the back of her neck. "…You just made it sound-…. I thought-"
"Goodness no." Ignitia giggled, cupping a paw over her snout as she rolled her eyes for the ceiling. "That's one question I cannot answer for you, unfortunately. I just saved your egg, little hatchling, I did not make it."
"Alright, are we okay to just pretend that the last minute, y'know, didn't happen?"
"Of course, dear."
"Right. So… woo! Uhm…." Spyra coughed into her paw and paused, gesturing to the chamber around them again. "…so what's the bread pantry for?"
Ignitia hummed musingly, casting a glance around the room, as if she had forgotten it was all there.
"This was the southern Egg Common Room for the frontier." The Guardian smiled. "Before the decline of the New Kingdom, hatchlings were considered especially sacred. Dragons had turned so much of their lives to the study of science, magic and lore, that more and more decades were passing without the conception of young. Mothers and fathers were older, and more spaced apart. To protect the eggs from the dangers of the swamps, they were sealed away here, and kept cool, and comfortable, to await the day of their hatching. I-"
Ignitia choked on her own words, still smiling, and forced herself to gain a semblance of composure yet again.
"I was one of those who was chosen for nursing capability here."
"…So this is where I was, as an egg." Spyra blinked at some of the toppled storage shelves nearby, their newfound meaning haunting her for her previous mockeries. "…How many others were there?"
"Hundreds. Maybe a thousand." Ignitia explained. "The exact number was recorded in script, but so many years later, its exact count eludes me. It was the first real sign of hope for the development of civilization in the south, the Untamed Frontier. A new generation of dragons were destined to inherit this fresh land, where they could grow, become wise, and unearth its secrets and wonders."
"The dragons left afterwards." Spyra said. "…But why? What happened to the eggs? What happened to me? I don't understand, Ignitia."
"Malefora happened." Ignitia lowered her head, burning holes in the floor. She realized her own appearance and quickly stomped it out, huffing and regaining the arch of her back. Her cheek-scales were turning bright red, Spyra realized it was becoming increasingly difficult for the flame dragoness to refrain from crying. "The temple was the most sacred site in the newly settled frontier. In an effort to stymie the growth of the Dragon Realms, Malefora preemptively struck against the fledgling southern settlements.
"Many assume Cynder is the one who unified the warring tribes of the Apes, but it is the Dark Mistress who ultimately first created the union of chieftains you currently see today. The tribes of Chieftains Visigoth, Jute, Saxony and Vandal, the fiercest of their kind. They predate even the Terror of the Skies as the first Ape Kings. They are the ones responsible for being the hammer that fell upon this land. Visigoth's armies, however, were the ones who besieged the temple that night. The night that I…"
Ignitia thumbed a tear from her eye. Another huff. Another hiding smile.
"Earlier, when I said I was chosen? It's not entirely true. I was the Guardian who volunteered to oversee the eggs. It was my job to tend to them every day. Fix their nesting, polish them, keep them warm through the use of dragonflame when night fell. I used to read to them too, e-especially you. The one lone purple egg. I took special care of you always."
"That explains a lot." Spyra shuffled away uncomfortably when that red, luscious tail started to brush against her flank for the second time today. "Well the parents had to come in to drop the eggs off, right? S-So my parents, my real parents, had to have showed up at some point to drop me off! You didn't see them?"
"I did not encounter most of the dragons who brought young to us. I was not the only caretaker here. Other nurses were on duty in rotations, along with temple guards and groundskeepers…" Ignitia shook her head. "Anyway, I apologize, I'm straying. When we found the purple egg in the rest of the batch, we were dumbfounded, awestruck. Nobody could recall who had left you here, or even how. You just appeared one night, right over there, wedged behind a corner on that shelf."
Ignitia pointed a wingtip at one of the collapsed shelving lines in the rear of the chamber.
"But I didn't care where you came from. I vowed to see you through to becoming a hatchling. I wasn't about to let the first purple egg in such a long time go without a Guardian overseeing her. Without me overseeing her." Ignitia said. "The other Guardians said it was best. They all came to see you. Oh, so many came to see you, and you would be amazed at how terrified they all were to even risk touching or moving your egg. You were treated with reverence. Like you were made of the finest porcelain. None of the nurses would let anyone but me handle you."
"I guess I owe ya' one for that." Spyra cringed when Ignitia touched the side of her snout with her paw.
"Please understand," The Guardian sniffled. "I loved you like you were my own egg. You were so special. It wasn't just because of the prophecies, those were piecemeal to me."
"Prophecies? What the- No, no wait, don't tell me, it was foretold!" Spyra mimicked in mockery, wiggling her talons in the air.
"It was!"
"Knew it."
"You were the the first Purple Dragoness in over a hundred years. It has been said throughout the realms, in more annals and tomes than I could ever record, that the savior of the world as we know it, is you." Ignitia rested a palm over Spyra's heart. "It is a Purple Dragon who is supposed to banish darkness forever and defeat the Dark One. Restore order to all Mana and all dragonflame. For so long, we thought our last hope had perished, and yet here you stand before me, right where it all started."
Spyra at least managed a legitimate smile, and it broke Ignitia's resolve. The Guardian made a happy cooing sound and surged forwards all at once, as a big, red, finned and cinnamon-smelling mass. Spyra's eyes bugged as she was squeezed like a squeaky toy to Ignitia's breast.
"I'm sorry!" Ignitia giggled when she started to struggle, and released her. "I am normally not this clingy, I'm just so happy that you came back to me! On such short notice and coincidence too. If you had arrived but an hour or so later, me and Captain Harad's Wing would've departed for the North."
"Yeahyeahyeah, I'm known for my speed, it matches my finesse. You can ask the alien." Spyra stuck her tongue out teasingly. "Speaking of…"
"Alien? Do you mean that creature?" Ignitia pointed a talon at the archframe behind them. "The one with pale skin that attacked the Captain?"
"Hey! Him and his dickhead space-cadets are the ones who attacked first!" Spyra defended. "Me and the Fallen were coming here for answers anyway, to see if we could determine who had floated me down the amber river before we went after Cynder. It was just to look for clues about Warfang." Spyra nodded at her. "Guess we found a whole lotta' clues."
"And this Fallen, what is he?"
"Hu-man, hooman? You know what I mean." Spyra waved a paw. "Though, ya' kinda' don't. He's a human, he says. He fell out of the sky in a flaming rock of doom and nearly knocked me and Cynder's block off. He took out a whole cave of Mana Crystals that the Apes were digging up. Kablooosh~!" She demonstrated the explosion with a preen of her wings. "Huuuuge explosion! It was awesome!"
"You've already met Cynder? She found you, and you survived?" Ignitia gaped.
"I couldn't have done it without him." Spyra nodded. "He's the one who got me out of the blast crater after Cynder wounded me. He healed me too! With this weird poky-thing that he stuck in my arm… Made all the damage go away. It was kinda' creepy, but I wasn't complaining. He can fight too. Like, really fight. He took out a whole cadre of dudes when Cynder chased us back down by the river corpse and tried to rip our heads off, but that was after I got attacked by Chieftain Visigoth, and I smashed his ugly teeth out of his fat head and char-broiled his ass."
"V-Visigoth? You battled Visi-"
"-Hell yeah I did! Guy was a pussy. Didn't have a fighting bone in his body methinks. I span circles around him like it was no tomorrow, bled him good too! He said he was going to skin me alive or something afterwards, but I was like pffft~! Bitch, get in line." Spyra let it all roll off her tongue like it was yesterday's gossip. With each tumbling sentence, Ignitia's face twisted into more and more extreme poses of horrified stupor. "After that, the Fallen stabbed ole' Cyndie-Tootles in the boob and sent her packing. He does this thing to dragonesses when he touches them, I personally can't get enough of it-"
"What." Ignitia leaned very close now, her nostrils flaring as she tested Spyra's scent. "He touched you? He did something to you? Explain yourself this instant."
"…I-It's not a big deal… Me and him are bros. Well, dude and dudette. He's awesome! He's got moves I've never even seen before. He's strong, and he's fast, and he roughhouses just the way I like to, and he's fast, and he's strong and-"
Spyra didn't seem to notice as she continued to snowball her reverie. Ignitia was examining her from top to bottom. Pinching her wings open, peering at the shoulders, turning her head (while she was still obliviously babbling about the human's salty skin-smell) and checking behind her horns.
"Spyra. Spyra." Ignitia shook her a little bit until she stopped talking. "What did this Fallen character do to you? Did he use magic? Was it an enchantment? If he's hurt my- Imean! –our Purple Dragoness, than action must be taken."
"He didn't hurt me or use magic or anything like that. He helped me! And he can help you too."
"How?"
"Me and him are gonna' find where Cynder's fortress is, and we're gonna' walk in and kick her ass back to wherever she came from." Spyra stated. Ignitia's jaw dropped.
"WHAT-?!" The Guardian shrieked.
C-shhhhh…. C-shhhhh…. C-shhhhh….
-Both dragons turned to the archway of the egg chamber to the sound of something being dragged against the cobbled floor. Someone was making a series of horrid gagging sounds too. It was as if the subject in question was retching. Spyra was reminded of her brother before she had been sucked up into this whole fiasco.
A moment later, and the Fallen stepped into the chamber. He had a line of rope wrapped around his fist and forearm, yanking it occasionally as he dragged dead-weight tied-up behind him. A forceful jolt of his wrist, and Corrinthol made another choking wheeze as he was dragged unceremoniously out from the hallway outside via a leash, the rope that he and Harad had tied the Fallen up in was secured firmly around his throat like a cattle's guide.
Too tightly, of course. The human's smile was forced through an expression of grave piss-offed-ness.
But also, he appeared very wild.
It was the same expression he'd held when he was slaughtering Cynder's Apes.
"Took you long enough." Spyra chortled. Ignitia gasped.
"I was just walking the hallways of this fine establishment, and happened to overhear a subject pertaining to yours truly." The Fallen brushed a hand over his chest. "Evidently, dragons don't know how to tie a good knot, or assign appropriate sentries to watch their prisoners. You people should be ashamed of yourselves."
"Ha~!" Spyra stuffed her paws over her snout to stifle the laughter. And the blush. "You're so fucking cool."
"Release him immediately." Ignitia dropped her motherly outlook in a heartbeat. She was up, and her paws were spaced on either side of her in a prepared combat pose, her mighty, umber wings spread threateningly, her nostrils pluming soot, her fangs bared.
"Who? Oh! You wouldn't happen to be talking about Chokesalot here, would you?" The Fallen yanked the rope and made Corrinthol echo around the chamber with a pained- 'Acchhhhhhh~!' –escaping his chops. Spittle flew everywhere, and shockingly, his already red scaly face was turning impossibly redder. He twisted and writhed on the ground, clawing at the rope tethering off his throat, his wings flapping incessantly. "That's my new name for him. It's very fitting, I believe. You all should count yourselves lucky. Dime-a-dozen dicksuckers like this bottomfeeder are rife no matter where I go, and I rarely treat stuff in no short supply with any kind of tenderness. You look like you're about to bust a gasket over it. Tell you what? You let my purple girlie and future breeding-sleeve there go, and we'll talk negotiations about the crimson-fucker with the chip in his shoulder."
"I don't want to sound like the bad guy here, but the Fallen's serious when he makes a threat. I've seen it! He goes rahhh!, and, wahhhh!, and he kicks people in the can and-" Spyra paused, gears turning so hard in her head that smoke started to form. "….waitasecond. What the fuck did you call me?" She turned back to the Fallen with fire in her eyes.
"I am Wingleader Ignitia of the City and Realm of Warfang, Elemental Guardian of Flame." Ignitia said domineeringly. She stepped around Spyra and placed herself between her and the human. "This Purple Dragon is now my responsibility, and under the jurisdiction of the Dragon Council and convene of Guardians overall. Your services up until this point are appreciated, but are no longer necessary. Leave the temple immediately, and Captain Harad's warriors will give no further chase to you."
"…Captain Harad's warriors." The Fallen creased a lip, bundling the rope in his fingers, he glanced back at Corrinthol, whose eyes were bugging out as he yanked fruitlessly on the line, nudged back by the Fallen's foot every time he crawled closer to claw and swipe at his legs. "You're placing a lot of stock in something that is pure and unadulterated shit, madame. I hardly believe this gentleman could claw his way out of an unsealed paper bag much less a dedicated fight. With all due respect; I've encountered specimens of the elderly that had more punch wielding tennis-balled walkers and catheters. Oh, and Mormons scorned. I don't think you appreciate how much it took for me to say that."
"I do not negotiate with enemies of the state. Conform or be destroyed." Ignitia stepped closer, parting her fangs. Broiling, flickering fire brewed in the back of her throat and illuminated the interior of her maw. When she spoke again, her words sounded like they were breaths from raw brimstone. "-And personally? I will be dead before I let you lay a finger on this dragon again."
"You dare stand between me and my durg-booty?" The Fallen ground his teeth. "If it's a fight you're itching for…"
"STOP!" Spyra flapped her wings and landed between the two of them. "How much more dialogue needs to droll on before you two get that we're on the same frikken' side?!"
"It's come to war! That's alright, I am quite used to the natives trying to spear me in the face." The Fallen cast aside Corrinthol's leash and whipped out one of the blades he'd looted from a dead Ape. He twirled it so that the metal glinted in the dull amber hue from above, leaning back in preparation to leap. As he smiled, a heavy perfume grazed his nose. The Fallen shuddered and his eyes wildly darted between Ignitia and Spyra. "…But I'll admit, the withdrawal I suffer from doesn't leave many of said natives in a good position for a certain kind of mercy."
"Stand aside, Spyra. I shall protect you. I will not lose you again! Not this time!" Ignitia roared.
"But I don't need protecting! And I don't need another war waged for me!" Spyra snapped at both of them in turn, causing the Fallen to blink and lower his blade slightly. "The Fallen is my friend! He's the first and only friend I've ever had! I don't care if it's only been a few days, he's important! And I feel like he's important to this prophecy all of you are getting on about as well!"
"I understand that you think you're doing the right thing, but Spyra, this creature has manipulated you!" Ignitia cried. "Now get out of the way. I have a job to do, one I will not fail in again!"
"Pity, I would've loved a red scale to add to the poon-wall." The Fallen growled.
Just then, Corrinthol reared up behind the Fallen, the leash still tethered around his neck. His eyes were wild as he heaved back a claw, aiming to swipe and slash open the human's jugular.
"-Y-You triched meeh-!" The flame dragon slurred around the rope.
The Fallen clicked his tongue, forgetting all about Ignitia. He promptly turned around and punched Corrinthol in the throat.
"-Accckkhhhh~!" –Corrinthol hacked, tumbling like a sack of bricks.
"Stay down already, would you?" The human winced, wagging his sore hand.
"Pfffffffftt-hahaaahaaaaa~!" Spyra started to laugh so hard that she was screaming. Mimicking Corrinthol, the purple reptile flailed onto her back and started to cackle her scales off, pointing at the miserable flame dragon across the room. "-D-Did you hear the noise he made-?!"
Against everyone's expectations, Ignitia herself gave off a tiny crackling noise, and a few cinders flecked from her teeth as the fire in her mouth died down.
It had been a snicker.
Before anyone knew it, her and Spyra were both laughing, and the ruckus filled the whole chamber.
Rubbing his knuckles, the Fallen sighed and sheathed his blade as the situation literally diffused itself. He glanced down at Corrinthol and grinned as the poor soldier struggled to get the leash off his neck.
"Looks like you're an unfortunate incident we like to call commonground." The Fallen chuckled. "Alright, Miss Ignitia, I'm willing to let the whole being-tied-to-a-pillar thing go if you are. I feel like I missed a whole conversation. Somebody get this guy a throat lozenge, and fill me in."
{🐉}
"…Corrinthol? I'm back. I had a little walk and I was thinking about what you said earlier. I'm not really appreciative of the way you talk to me, and I think I want a little bit more respect when you-…"
Torrdonal stopped dead in his tracks as he returned to the lobby gallery of the temple.
The Fallen, Corrinthol, and the tether of rope they'd appropriated from the rubble, were all gone.
Torrdonal wheezed in panic, blubbered something unintelligible, and sprinted to find the Captain.
{🐉}
"Ancestor's cocks, what do you mean the prisoner escaped?" Harad cried.
Torrdonal probably had rehearsed an explanation in the minute or so it took to find his CO, but all that came out between labored breaths were a few words like- 'tricked!' –and- 'Corrinthol!' –and- 'Water!' –before Harad huffed and silenced him with a wave of his green, daggered talons.
"Get a hold of yourself." He sneered down at the smaller water drake in disgust, before turning his gaze over his mighty wings to the other side of the little prayer chamber. "Morinth, Taliopia? You'll search the old egg chamber and the scribe vault, me and Torrdonal are going to check the gardens and the observer's platform."
"I told you not to leave Corrinthol as a guard." Morinth sighed, fawning over Taliopia's wing as the two dragonesses sat curled up next to and against one another in the back of the room. She used her fangs to clean the boney joints between the rose-colored membranes of the white dragon's beautiful wings. Taliopia giggled and kicked at Morinth playfully with her feet. Morinth stopped grooming her for a second to gaze lazily at her Captain. "Cheeky that the little hoopla and bugger at the market last month wasn't example enough that that male's perception could be outdone by the dead. If you want my advice, I say we let the alien have him! Aaaannnddd maaybbbeeee, Corrinthol will gettttttt…. Eaten~."
Taliopia giggled more and rolled on the floor playfully, the little healing potion vials hanging from her hip-sash jingling like a small array of ornamental bells.
"She's got a point, sir." Torrdonal gasped. Harad gawked at him like he was a moron. "What if the alien's a meat-eater like us? And he likes the taste of dragon?"
"That alien scares me…" Taliopia shuddered at the memory, crooning when Morinth hummed supportively and lapped at one of her horns.
"Luckily for you, your big strong Morri-poo is here to keep you safe and lovvveeeelllyyyyy, my deaarrrr~." The darker dragoness sang.
"This is borderline insubordination, but my patience is thin, and I don't think pursuing it will get any of us anywhere." Harad growled, whipping his mace-head tail for an archway nearby. "Morinth and Taliopia, I just gave you an order. March."
"Yessir." Morinth sprang up and dragged Taliopia with her, ignoring the medic's panicked mewls as she carted them both to their duty. "Let's go be patriots for the homeland, sweety."
"B-But being a patriot brings the risk of being a martyr." Taliopia gasped. "You have to be dead to be one of those!"
"As opposed to alive and a heroinneee~!" Morinth cheered, her black wings flapping as she took a dancing hop in her step. "How exciting! Cheeky too. I wonder what kind of medal they would award a warrior of Warfang for killing an alien? Maybe, it'll be shaped like a saucer or something."
"Or maybe we'll get whisked away because our government lies to us…" Taliopia shivered in terror. "Morinth, please don't make me go! I don't want to fight! Harad's mean, and he hates me because I got dumped in this unit. E-Ever since Tall Plains…"
"Screw Tall Plains, Tali'." Morinth clicked her tongue as they walked. Taliopia gasped.
"Morinth, language…"
"Past mistakes don't define the dragoness. If we were all bound by what we have done, there'd be no one left." Morinth waved a paw dismissively as they crossed another lobby hall, passing unlit braziers and hanging chandeliers made from amber crystal. Mushrooms overgrew much of the floor along with moss clumps and piles of rubble from walls that had failed. "Trust me when I say that the past is exactly like hatchling school. Get a good look at my chops; nobody cares."
"I-I know…" Taliopia kicked a chunk of debris in thought. "It's just… what happened was so embarrassing. Everything really has been embarrassing. I wasn't meant for the military. I'm only here because of mom and dad. 'Our wealth denotes a higher standard'." She quoted her own mother, before they had sent her off packing in the draft. "….I miss my mommy, Morri-poo. I never got to introduce them to you! They would love you! A-At least I think… I hope."
"Other dragons might struggle with us." Morinth kindly minimized as they peaked into several passing chambers. "But nobody ever said that what comes best comes easy. Step into life with a jolt and jump, I've always thought of it as. Not liking drakes isn't a wrong sort of mind frame…"
A moment of silence permeated the patrol. Taliopia nudged closer and nuzzled Morinth's cheek.
"Morinth?"
"Yes?"
"Is it wrong that I… we…. like other females? More than males I mean."
"Not even a teensy-tiny bit." Morinth laughed. "Soceity's a big ole' stickler. Conformity's nice, but sometimes it's just a stressful and unneeded shackle others like to put on everyone around them. Dragons aren't comfortable unless things are black and white." She gestured to her and Tali' for emphasis. "And are we so wrong? Besides, that doesn't just go for home. Cheeky, because I've witnessed it everywhere I've gone. But people can change. All they neeeed is the righ-high-ighhtttt sonnnngg~!"
Morinth had a wonderful singing voice. Taliopia had spent many a night lauding and telling her that she should've pursued a career in performing arts when the war was over. If the war ever ended.
Morinth had been in the army for way longer than her. She'd needed it to- 'Get her life in order' –according to her. Time and time again, though, Taliopia wondered exactly what that meant. The Morinth she knew had her priorities straight and always had a chipper attitude even when things were in the proverbial toilet.
According to Morinth, she hadn't always been the same 'ness. Taliopia couldn't picture her any different or less, and so she struggled with understanding her plight.
But a lot of that came from being half Night Dragon. Morinth's mother had been ostracized when she came back from the war, not only a widow, but bearing an egg that had the unmistakable dark tint of a Night Dragon's heritage. Morinth had never known her father, and had essentially grown up as a gutter-lizard in twisting ducts and streets of the capital megacity of Warfang.
Get through the tough to see the great! Morinth told Taliopia when she'd questioned her hatchlinghood. The pain in her emerald eyes spoke legions of everything darker she refused to voice aloud. Morinth had had a hard life. The military and its rigid structure had only seemed natural.
Now, take the homebody and timid little hen that was Taliopia, and add that in to the fact that they were scissoring when the urge overtook them, and you had a pair that pretty much every angle of society had a problem with.
But as Morinth had sang one evening:
"Fuuuu-uuu-hu-huccckkk themmmm~!"
So here they were, even in the army.
Taliopia wished the draft had never happened. But so many dragons were dying, that the survival of their very race was being brought into question. There were few able bodied males and females within the allotted age group who weren't being at least groomed by recruiters for service.
"Is it true that ancient dragons used to live here?" Taliopia gazed at one of the hauntingly still-lit gem-chandeliers over their horned heads.
"Dragons settled the swamps ages ago, but they were kicked out within memory of a lot of our parents, older siblings and grandparents." Morinth sadly smiled. "That's where I'm hearing that little feisty purple lady we picked up earlier came from. The Purple Dragoness? Can you believe it, Tali'? We might have found a prophesized champion!"
"Prophesized? But I thought all those stories weren't real." Taliopia gasped. "They couldn't be real! I-I mean… what about… what about the Dark Mistress?"
"Shush. Don't say that so loud." Morinth shivered. "What about her? She's the baddest doody-head of them all."
"Wasn't she supposed to be the first-"
"-Acchhhkkkkkk~!" –Echoed from down a nearby hall.
Both dragonesses froze, and then looked at each other. Morinth was smiling, and Taliopia was quivering in terror.
"C'mon~!" Morinth hissed excitedly.
"-Eep~!" –Taliopia squeaked as she was dragged along.
The pair bounded down a few twists and turns, hearing the echoing voices of several people. The matronly drone of Wingleader Ignitia, the flame Guardian of the Dragon Council. The boisterous potty-mouth that was Spyra. The masculine drawl that was the alien, and the grunts of Corrinthol, the latter of whom were very pained.
"Lady Ignitia, we have come to saavvvveee youuuu~!" Morinth sang as she threw Taliopia into the doorway of the egg chamber first and tumbled in after her.
"-Morrrrinntthhh~!" Taliopia howled before scrabbling over her own heels and losing her balance. The two dragonesses tumbled like a yin-yang sphere into the chamber and collapsed into a combined heap on one of the inscriptured dais plats.
"Morinth? Taliopia? Are you alright?" Ignitia gasped from nearby.
"Don't fret, mam, we're still battle-worthy." Morinth chirped, her head poking out from between a tangle of her and Taliopia's bodies. She surveyed the room and locked eyes with the human, the Fallen. "You! Escaped from your binds, have you, demon? Have at ye~!"
"Ouuuchhh~! Morri-poo! That's my footy-wooty you're stepping on!" Taliopia whined.
"Tali'! Maybe your footy-wooty shouldn't be in my freaky-peepy way-ie~!"
"The fuck do you two talk like retards for?" Spyra snapped.
Morinth growled as she helped Taliopia to her feet. The poor medic was shell-shocked, and could barely handle the rapid barrage of vulgarity that had spewed like an open sewer grate from Spyra's muzzle in such short effect.
"While that is very very insulting, my professionalism bids me to forget it was said." Morinth glumly blinked at Spyra, disappointed as she dusted Taliopia's wings with her own. "Cheeky that; technically you're still a civilian in the eyes of the army, and my job says I have to help you along like a clueless gerbil."
"These horns were made for buckin', lady, and they buzz when people piss me off." Spyra growled, turning her attention from where she stood beside the Fallen. "Feels like someone's stuck a vibrator in my ear canal right about now."
"Oh my!" Taliopia gasped, part in reaction to the foul language and part for seeing the Fallen.
The human- for his part –smiled warmly and stepped past Spyra, before kneeling before the two dragonesses, reaching down, and taking Taliopia's white, dainty paw.
"Do excuse my friend's rather brash greeting, I'm honored to be in the company of so many fine draconic females such as yourselves." He placed a light kiss on Taliopia's wrist. The medic froze up like an icicle, and she fluttered her eyes rapidly, a heavy flush flooding her snout. "And sorry about the misunderstanding earlier. I am at your service now, my lovely lady. Your name is Taliopia? A beautiful name indeed."
Taliopia shivered uncontrollably, her pink eyes locked on the human like he was the only thing seeable in an entire universe of blank whiteness. Something bloomed in the back of the medic's vision, a nebulae of emotions.
Morinth looked on, horrified.
"-B-Beautifulllll….?" Taliopia slurred, her body wavering, and her previously erratic tail standing bolt straight behind her.
"Yes, quite so. Shapely, if you do not mind my eagerness." He winked at her. "You'd make a drake very happy with your company, doubtless. You're not… on the market, per-say, are you?"
Taliopia creamed her tail and passed out on the floor.
Morinth squealed in fright and hung over her in terror.
"Tali'? Tali'?! What the fuck did you do to her?!"
"I wonder that question myself." Ignitia stepped forwards, keeping her distance as the Fallen spun around and gazed at her with a pleasant grin, as if nothing had just happened. "Your touch elicits quite the interesting results, Fallen. Is there something you are not telling us about?"
"You traded your stories, I traded mine." The Fallen shook his head. "At least now we know where Spyra comes from, and we know where we have to go."
Nearby, Corrinthol was getting up, tenderly slipping the leash off his throat. He glumly slapped his chops and whined like a bitch in heat at the tenderness in his neck. He saw Taliopia on the floor and gawked outside the exchange.
"…You… You swooned her?" He went slack-jawed. "B-But I've tried that before! I- I thought she was a lesbian!"
"Stow it over there, little red whore-nugget, or I shall return and dominate you like the squealing piglet you are." The Fallen growled. Corrinthol went wide-eyed, like he'd seen a ghost, and promptly shut his mouth. "…Now, you were just about to chew me out for trying to bring Spyra to Cynder's tower?"
"Indeed!" Ignitia stomped her foot. "What madness has come over you, that you saw it tactically wise to not avoid the Dark Army's occupying forces here, but drive for their headquarters? With the Purple Dragoness in tow, no less! Do you realize that she is our only hope? She has no military training! She has not seen live battle yet."
"Not really true." Spyra grinned. "He may kill most of 'em, but I've been racking up a pretty sweet monkey-kill-counter myself."
Ignitia looked like she was ready to scream.
Would the offenses never end?
"Hey, sorry about your friend there, I didn't mean to come on too strong, it's just that I have an inability to not pursue a beautiful dragoness when I see one." The Fallen swept over to Morinth in an instant. The poor hybrid dragon sucked up her own chops and reared her neck back in gall as her personal space was invaded. The Fallen reached out, and cupped the underside of her chin, caressing down her elegant snout. "And you are possibly one of the greatest ebony wonders I've yet to witness strut down a broken, mushroom filled and ancient temple. If I win the war for you, would you be willing to let me, as your savior, perhaps… liberate you of your lonely evenings, and sample your reptilian treasures with my man-spear?"
Fwoooofff~!
-Morinth's wings preened as wide as they could. The blush was indescribable.
Spyra gnawed on her own tail in fury.
{🐉}