Dragon(s)layer
19
Comfy Nests and Dark Gems
{Black Mesa Soundtrack: Black Mesa Theme - Mesa Remix}
"Justice."
The glass orb slipped from her paw and shattered on the ground.
Crash~!
Cynder's eyes snapped open, and the endless silence was right there to greet her. She huffed and lazily rolled onto her back in the rich, crimson bedding of her nest. All sleep left her system with haste, a high opposite face for its slow, creeping arrival that it had overtaken her with. Cynder didn't even remember closing her eyes.
She stared holes in the chamber ceiling, batting her paws at nothingness. Never before had she ever felt this directionless and lost. She had always been at war with the world. But right now it felt like the whole world had beaten and then forgotten about her. She was a slagged corpse left in the dust, unremembered, and irrelevant.
She spat out a tiny bulb of Shadow flame and watched as it arced above her nesting. Just before it could come back down onto her breast, she reached out with two talons and kept them in a hook just under the flame nub's path. In midair, the little black ulcer stopped and levitated between her clawnails. Cynder idly flexed her fingers and watched the bulb grow to the size of her head, a pulsating, inky sun with black tendrils snapping all around it.
She rotated the shadow-sphere and jerked her wrist, sending it up, and then down again, and repeating.
Her castle would keep her away from it all.
Look at her, right now, at this moment, playing with her mutations that were steadily killing her...
That was why she had wanted to take the Fallen here with her. Together, they could've devised a way to fix her, and they could have lived here. Cynder didn't remember her nesting ever feeling so empty and cold. She wanted another body in the cushions with her. She wanted the Fallen.
Cynder slapped her chops, trying to remember how he had tasted. Even though it was recent, it was a challenge. That sampling of maddening passion she'd gotten had effectively ruined her naivety of the flesh. She couldn't keep living without having something to cling on to, something from the only point of goodness in her whole past…
The past.
The idea struck her like lightning.
Cynder snapped her talons and the flame ball popped away to nothingness. Gears in her mind turned and turned…
Yes.
That could work, she considered, craning a lithe forearm over to delicately pinch the neck of the wine glass she had kept by the nestside table. She sipped its blood-red contents and rumbled at the warmth.
Malefora gets what she wants.
I get what I want.
The war never ends.
I take all the pieces for myself. The playing board is empty.
Cynder drained the last of her wine and threw herself out of the nesting. Soon, she was bustling down the twisting halls of her castle, heading to her throne room.
Her claws and their clicking echoed down the whole maze of tunnels. She chirped as she moved, just once, closing her eyes and hearing the sound bounce as she moved. It was something to detract from the twisting sensation that was choking her chest.
In her throne room, she bounded to the center of the crimson carpet, and flicked out her talon, a black pearl materializing in her palm.
She whispered into it and held it from her face, black mist washing and levitating out of it and into the air. Though there was otherwise silence aside from the harsh, low murmur of the black magic at work, Cynder narrowed her pale eyes, took a deep breath, and began to speak.
"I am not begging for forgiveness, nor am I declaring any ultimatums." She said. "The tower… it's… behind me, behind both of us."
She paused, staring into the black mist spiring from the pearl, as if she was trying to carve out shapes from the liquidy smog.
"…It's funny, because as much I may not want to believe it: twenty-five years has changed my mind into something even you didn't envision. I do not believe I have quite broken down its endpoint, or, frankly where it began…"
Cynder licked her teeth and sighed.
"I trust memory of my little incident in the mountains has not placed importance in your daily considerations, but if you wish to view the seeds of what you may call heresy, it probably lies in there, for starters.
"…Exhaustively, I don't think I came prepared to say much else beyond that, not in personal terms. I did script my plan, be if only briefly. I still have Vandal and Saxony, and even if Jute is dead, his tribe will obey me." She waited in silence.
Nothing.
She continued.
"I want to rally my forces in Monkano."
"You were just beginning to impress me with your own poetic examination of everything, and now you've spoiled the mood with stupid plans. Do you really think Infernia is going to let you do that?" Malefora's tired utterings crept out from the mist finally. The smog pulsed pink with each hitch in her speech. "Some of the Apes are calling her the Queen of Table Scraps, and seeing as I have been so forced to reevaluate my own artifices, I'm just beginning to see the truth in their idiotic ramblings. You know, I gave you everything. I favored you over so many promising, pure-born Nightkin. Infernia will never forgive me for what she views as a demotion: but a demotion I gave to gift you, hatchling."
Cynder's mouth moved, but no sound came to light. The black dragoness clenched her mandible and glowered into the mist.
"The rallying is the second part of my plan."
"Yes, I knew you would avoid our relationship in the discussion. You always have. Now… a plan? So you have a plan now. That is beautiful. Why don't I just entrust my entire empire to you, while I am at it? Maybe I should tell the Grublins to disarm themselves and brandish sticks too."
"Mistress," Cynder shakily sighed when she realized how acidic the word had become to her. "the Apes are flesh shields. With the Purple Dragoness focusing her attention in the Dragon Realms, the South is undefended. I can have Saxony literally beach one of his longboats, and the Chieftain can walk onto land without threat of incident."
"You speak truth."
"Indeed I do, born from tactics you've never told another dragon on the wing or from fleet of heart in all of existence. Would you question my cunning, my Mistress?"
Malefora growled, and Cynder gasped as her head began to grow pressurized. It felt like someone was squeezing her skull.
"-I released you." Cynder struggled out. "You would not have been able to return without me! I will not let you molest my mind any further!"
There was a crash of thunder that rocked the whole castle. Malefora snarled and the pearl-dust turned briefly crimson. Cynder cried out and buckled on her legs, nearly dropping the pearl and collapsing onto the carpet.
"…Mistress…" Cynder swallowed, forcing herself to her feet. "…we have become so linked, even if you do not wish to admit it."
"There's nothing to admit, you ungrateful wench." Malefora snapped. "I gave you power beyond imagining. You repay me with a knife in my tail."
"The South," Cynder shouted. "the Apes to the South, from Monkano! Infernia will listen to you, she'll listen to me as well! She always has, she always will. That is the second part of my plan."
"What is the first part then? Speak!"
"I'm flying to Daragon." She hissed, straining as beads of sweat ran down her slender snout. "The Guardians are there. You feel it, and I have felt it through you."
"You don't even have a means to get to them. What are you going to do? Beg them?"
"No," Cynder gnashed her teeth, fighting off the last strings of Malefora's magic, her tail-blade singing as it whipped. "I'm going to use them for the only thing their pitiful lives are worth to us as: they are going to become conduits."
"It was only through luck that you survived against Ignitia the last time you tried this." Malefora huffed, suddenly sounding impatient. "Luck, and my benevolent means of interfering."
"It was also through luck that Ignitia did not freeze to death." Cynder retorted. "Our power structure is changing, and your influence over me is waning. My powers have become something else. I'm extending a claw to you, not asking you to eat from it. Hear me out. I am going to Daragon, where I know Guardians Volteera and Cyrila both have traveled to help the fighting. This has inevitably drawn Terradora in her continuous attempts to be a General. The Grublins and Orcs still recognize me as friendly. I'm going in and I'm taking them."
"Who? The Grublins? All or half of them? Do you want me to lend you a burlap sack? I would hate to see your efforts fail…"
"No, not the Grublins, or the Orcs. To hell with all of them." Cynder smiled grimly, ignoring the mockery. "I'm taking the Guardians. I am going to use them to reopen the Portal."
"The Portal? Why the Portal? There is no such use for it, it has already served its purpose." Malefora growled. "Besides, it is in the Iron Wastes. You and I have no hold there anymore, only the dead do."
"And they are precisely what will be the barrier between me, the Guardians and their would-be saviors." Cynder reasoned. "I am faster than any dragon who has ever lived. I can outrun them. I can outrun even the forces of the Iron Wastes. All I need is the Convexus' Gem, with that, I can tear open a second wound into Convexity."
"…You want to begin a Planemeld." Malefora incredulously whispered. "If you do that, every single dark entity in the world will become nigh unstoppable, including me, including you… Why would you do this? An eternal war brews beyond that horizon, and if you don't believe me, you can ask the very spirits we discuss. There are forces consumed with the same hate as us who will attempt to stop you in addition to the North. The Fallen- your new obsession –will attempt to stop you too."
"I will give you everything." Cynder said, emotion tugging at her chest at the mention of the human. "I will unleash Convexity and I will turn all of us into gods. You can challenge whomever you wish, I will not impede you, and you are free to remake the world as you please. I no longer want a seat in that. I hate this world. I always have, and I realize now that I do not care what happens to it, as it has never cared what happens to me. My only condition: is that you let me take the Fallen. We go one way, you go the other. My service to you can finally reach a conclusion."
"….Mm." The Dark One sighed. "…All of this time, you work up to…?"
Malefora didn't know what to say. She filled in her own blanks with a crisp little laugh, followed by a grounding rumble. Cynder waited with bated breath, staring into the black mist.
"I see my treatment has done little to reestablish your true nature."
"I have told this to every advisor you have sent me, to every warlord who has served under me, to every champion I have slain:" Cynder leaned closer to the misty spire, her white eyes seething with malice as the memories of mental anguish flared in her mind's eye. "no one has the right to ever touch me. Never. For naught. You will submit to that rule, Mistress."
"Evidently, not all." Malefora smirked. "This Fallen will be your own repudiation. Times have truly changed."
"Is it a deal?" Cynder growled, her voice bouncing down the empty halls of her castle. "I give you Armageddon, you give me freedom."
"Your loyalty to me has been a lifelong façade, hasn't it?"
"It's been convenient. It now no longer is." Cynder shook her head, though she sensed Malefora detected her trace dishonesty. "My mutations will allow me that without your consent. I want your word now. The Convexus Gem, a second Convexity gating, the Purple Dragoness dies and I get the human. Simple."
"There's nothing about what you're going to do that is simple." Malefora chuckled. "If I didn't find it so appetizing, I might just put forth my own resources to stop you."
"With respect, my Shadowed Queen," Cynder smirked. "I would greatly enjoy seeing you try."
"…Zargos wasn't the only one I sent on a hidden quest." Malefora ground her fangs. "Those of Crimson-Plate were informed of their own hunt. So, I wish to add something: if you can reactivate that ancient warpway with your impromptu charges, I will send you the best unit of their number under my possession. They will be my sentries to ensure that your work is not interrupted."
"They must have a no-kill order for the human, or no deal." Cynder snapped. "Your Commandos have no right to him. He is mine. The Fallen comes with me, subdued. Your Commandos can have the purple dragoness. They are not to touch him. If they do? …Well, I can always funnel the runoff…"
"You've been driven mad!" Malefora laughed. "Rip open the ancient Portal of Convexus, brave the wrath of that dark, unforgiving tower of hell, in the middle of the most inhospitable haunt in the world… all to destroy yourself. You stupid little hen. Do you think your body is capable of withstanding that much power? If you try to channel the realm of Convexity, not just the element: you will overload your own Mana and erase yourself from spacetime. You will die."
"Perhaps!" Cynder's face quivered. "Perhaps I will die. Lest we forget so many other instances where such was repeated. At the Second Continental Landing, I should've died. During the duel with Ignitia in the cold, bitter north: I should've died. Over the Ancestral Sea in the Cloud Battles of the 5th, where over two-hundred dragons fell in the course of three hours: I should've died. I cheat death, Mistress, because of how much I have longed for it. A person can never truly grasp that which captivates them the most. You needn't fret over such things. In layman's terms: is that a chance you're willing to gamble with?"
The black mist pulsed in silence. Malefora didn't respond. What could she say?
"…Excellent." Cynder smiled venomously. "It appears I have work to get to. But, as a last extension of your kindness, my Queen… Maybe you could throw me a bone? If isn't so troubling."
"The mountain," Malefora grumbled. "over the Solemn Pass ridging Lilith's realm. There is an army marching. I have no doubt that the ice will attract a certain champion."
"And the scattermouthed, yellow cunt?"
"I believe such colors have been noted on Oversight's walls…" Malefora said. "But the Guardian of Earth? Of that even I am blind. You're on your own."
"Perhaps there's an advantage to losing an entire army." Cynder chuckled. "It leaves so much room for flexibility."
"Where are you going to do it?"
"I'm standing there." Cynder sweetly stated. "What better way to hook your catch if not in your own lair? They will come to me. I assure it."
{🐉}
{Assassin's Creed 2 OST: Home in Florence}
For a minute, the Fallen was concerned about how he was going to get inside the campus. Ignitia was tired from the flight, and Spyra had already made it clear that she could only ride him and not the other way around.
Luckily, there was a white footbridge linking over the quietly slapping moat below. Miniature gardens flanked its railings on both sides, populated with healthy green shrubs and dwarf trees with white blooms making their canopies.
Palmet started sneezing halfway down the bridge when one of the thousands of petals flowing in the wind got slurped down his nose. Ignitia had a look of disgust on her snout the whole walk thereafter as the poor Ape howled and 'achoo-ed!' –for ten minutes straight.
"Why don't you just fly in?" Spyra asked aloud as they came to the bridge-end. "Those little walls couldn't keep out a happenin' 'ness like me, or you either, Ignitia."
"This is an introductory entrance for our non-flying party member." The Guardian blinked.
"Oi! Dat wasn't plural! I may have been reduced to an alien-warlord's propeteh an all, but I still ave my identity!"
"And… I'm happenin' too, aren't I?" Ignitia awkwardly pronounced, looking hurt.
"Mmmmmyeaahhhhbut… ehm…" Spyra cringed. "…y… d…"
"Pardon?"
"…you're… y'know… kinda…" Spyra paused at the end of the bridge and swept a claw in the Guardian's direction.
Ignitia looked completely floored. She glanced between Spyra's paw and her bronze-plated breast, tapping around at her shoulder-fins and self-consciously checking her thick tail.
"What about me is not happenin'?" Ignitia incredulously put down her foot. "I am the Guardian of Flame of the draconic capital! A-And I have… very nice wings… I-I've been told…"
"That isn't the only thing that's nice." The Fallen muttered, taking advantage of Ignitia's back and sizing up her shapely, scaly rear. Palmet glanced dumbly between him and it.
"Wha am I missin, boss?" He scratched at Meep in his arms.
"Evidently: a sex drive." The Fallen raised a brow at him. "You poor, poor little man."
"And I'm well-spoken, and I've read more tomes than any other dragon alive!" Ignitia rambled, a slight flush born on her snout as she ran a paw down her chest. She stopped, and craned her eyes in thought. "I think that makes me… I suppose the terms would be 'cool', and 'hip'… Yes. Yes I do believe I am quite happenin'."
"Mmmmyeahbut…" Spyra stifled a giggle. "-you're kinda'… old and stuff…"
…"-WHAT." Ignitia squawked, her wings popping open like an inflatable mattress bursting from a fold-in closet.
Fwoof~!
-The Fallen staggered away from his arse-ogling with a grunt as a wing-joint caught him in the eye.
"-Ow." He announced. "Can't see. Ow."
"Hold on dere, boss! Lemme find ya a warm towel and a nice relaxation pillow!" Palmet scrambled over. "Jus let ole docta Palm ere take a gandah at that shiner-"
"Touch me and lose a finger." The Fallen pointed, still holding the side of his face.
"O-Old?! I-I'm only thirty-six years of age! Do you even know how long our lifespans are at their maximum? Hundreds of years! I- I am most certainly not old! I'm in the prime of my cycle." Ignitia stuck her nose up matter-of-factly. She twisted around in a slow circle, displaying the curvature of her body, tail and wings for Spyra, flicking the latter out in a regal pose for emphasis. "And I have been told by many that I look young for my age. See how the sun rebounds off my coat? It's because I maintain extremely tight personal grooming measures."
"Tight?" The Fallen shook his head as he gazed back at Ignitia's ass. "God damn, I bet."
Spyra had to shove a paw over her snout to stop from bursting out with laughter.
"C'mon, I was only kiddin'…" She grinned. "…grandma."
Ignitia scrunched her chops and spat a brief spout of fire at her, making Spyra dance back and giggle.
"…Well, being older has its advantages." The Guardian wryly smiled and resumed walking.
"Experience." The Fallen chuckled, rubbing his eye as he limped after her. Ignitia met his gaze, her face switching from a flustered expression to a flattered one.
"You pick up a thing or two." She agreed, bowing her head sheepishly.
"Yeah, and all that experience goes out the window once the crows-feet start settling in." Spyra joked, dodging a whip from Ignitia's tail. "What about you, Fallen? Is Ignitia happenin'?"
Both dragonesses and even Palmet were all looking right at him. Spyra was doing so musingly, Palmet obliviously, Ignitia however…
…Was that nervousness he detected?
"What can I say at the end of the day?" The Fallen shrugged after taking some time to think it over. "She smells as sweet as she looks. I'd have more than just a taste if she'd let me."
Palmet rubbed the back of his mane and whistled whilst trying to look away. Flame shot out of Ignitia's snout as she fixed her mortified gaze on her forepaws. It looked convincingly of embarrassment at a distance, but the Fallen could pick up the flattered smile going down her snout.
Spyra gawked. "Saywhatnow?"
They came upon a small outcrop structure from the left pylon of the academy's front gates. There were a pair of golden barred fence-hinges. Quite ornate in their design too, with skeleton murals of the city in the very center that split down the middle.
Coming out of the guardhouse to the flank was a stout Mole with a black overcoat, a hunched gait, and a bulkier build. He was almost tall enough to be level with the Fallen's chest, and was face-to-face with Spyra's height. He had a pair of copper-colored goggles, and one of his burly arms was slipped under the fold of his coat, as if he sought to hide some kind of secret or a deformity.
"Madame Ignitia." He spoke with a heavily accented voice. What kind of accent? Neither the Fallen nor Spyra could deduce. It was sluggish and caused a tongue-roll on G's and, eventually, they saw, R's predominantly. "Welcome back home. I trust all is well?"
"Hello, Locker." Ignitia squeaked, coughing when his browline raised behind his goggles. She was pinker than a thumb recently hammered. "E-Everything's just… fine. Really. Lovely weather, a nice walk through the city with Spyra, and this nice male-Fallen."
Locker, the academy gatekeeper, stood for a moment and gazed at Ignitia, noting her strange behavior. But, judging by his demeanor, the Fallen saw him as a guy who had seen the worst of it already. Especially if he was the gatekeeper for a schooling building. One didn't have to journey the Multiverse to know how jobs like that went some days.
"It is good to see you in one piece, Madame." Locker flashed a grin and then frowned, examining Spyra, and then the Fallen in turn. "You bring a purple dragon, an Ape, and an alien to my gatehouse."
"U-Uhm-" Ignitia glanced between them. "…yes. Ehm… surprise?"
Locker bowed his head and started waddling over to the gates, evidently willing to let the whole issue slip with just a grunt under his breath.
The Mole took his hidden arm out from his coat as he neared a tiny lockbox built into the center divider. His hand there was metal. It was an interlocked, multijointed augmetic made of brass metal with silver trims down the palm and back. And its fingers were each topped with keys.
"Damn." Spyra muttered. "And I thought Cynder could shit those..."
"Has much been happening since my departure, Locker?" Ignitia regained her composure and stalked closer as the Mole slipped his pointy-key into the box slit.
"It could be worse." The Mole shrugged, twisting and taking his hand back to hide it back under his coat. "Only two of the temporary chaperones officially quit."
"Officially? And I only hired three."
"Yes, the last one did not put it in writing." The Mole chuckled, pushing the massive gates aside and stepping out of the way. "The students have become very accurate with parchment spit-balls and paper-dragons."
"Oh, those hatchlings. A Guardian's work is never done..." Ignitia clicked her tongue as she guided the party into the courtyard ahead.
"I know you will put it all back to its rights, Madame." Locker waved his key-hand at them and started to close the gates. "But still: good luck in there. It's a bit of a zoo."
"Roar." Ignitia sighed. "…I'll have to check in with Bilou and make sure he was not trampled. And, Ancestors, what if someone got stuck in the watering crank again? We have some drakes and hens here who are practically still smelling of eggshells! And all the paperwork, and the courses put on hold and-"
The Fallen was daring and laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. Ignitia jumped, but calmed down at his touch.
"I'm supposed to be giving both of you an introduction, and here I am stressing out." She fluffed her wings and smiled. "I'm sorry, you two. Let me try that again: welcome to the Warfang Dragon Academy!"
Ignitia stopped and swept her wing out for the grounds proper, describing everything in detail.
There were four large buildings spread across the grassy park that made the academy's grounds. A pair of rectangular dorm rooms stood side by side flanked by winding cobble paths and benched seating areas. There was a triple storied lecture hall and classroom wing with canopied walkways and castle-like expansions. Finally, the domed, oldest looking structure in the rear of the square island was the Guardian Temple and Training Ring. That was where the Guardians lived, meditated and managed most administration. It was also where dragon students would be tested during elemental courses and trials.
"That is where I will be training you, Spyra." Ignitia said. "Inside is a similar section like what you observed in the Dragon Temple. There are magical summoning circles that can be used to summon training dummies."
"Summon them?" Spyra blinked. "What's wrong with slapping a haystack on a stick and beatin' the daylights out of it?"
"These dummies are enchanted." Ignitia explained. "They will move, act, and work together to simulate actual enemy warriors. They even sport a mean punch, nothing too dangerous… but expect bruises."
Spyra looked like she was about to have an orgasm.
"Eh, this is a nice sorta place ain't it?" Palmet said to the Fallen. "Much bettah than Cynda's cesspool toweh."
"Granted, one smelled like shit and was inhabited by monkeys, and the other's pleasant and populated by civil dragons." The Fallen's eyes swept about as the scenery began to dull, and the real centerpiece of the campus grounds made itself known.
Dragons.
Lots of them.
They walked down pathways, sat on bench futons and lounged under the shade of trees. Many of them zipped from building to building on the wing, diving through special landing windows and doorways.
Many of them had seen Ignitia from a distance and had come over. Once the first few shouts about a purple dragon and a hairless ape rang out, practically a quarter of the entire student body showed up in a mob.
"Daww," Palmet groaned. "I hate crowds I do. Gives ya this naggin sorta feeling, like yer naked and being pranced around like a show pony."
"Since when have you cared about self-image?" The Fallen looked at his yellow, filthy fangs.
Dragons of all different colors gathered on the grass in front of the courtyard. Yellow, blue, green, red, white, silver, gold… it was a scaly, undulating rainbow.
Taking his gaze away from Palmet, the Fallen's eyes began to pick out more choice details in the crowd that pertained more to his tastes, and before he knew it, he was drooling.
Dragonesses.
Young dragonesses. Borderline jailbait.
In every color of the rainbow.
A lot of them were pretty curvy. Some looked bashful and shy when his eyes met theirs.
"Master? Ar ya cold er sumfin? Maybe I should find ya that warm towel after all." Palmet fiddled.
"I-I-I'm good." The Fallen quivered, a raging erection straining the material of his jumpsuit. He began to froth at the mouth. "M-Must… feed..."
"I'm in heaven." Spyra blinked, smiling as all sorts of gazes fell on her, followed by gasps and murmurings.
"Settle down please, yes I have come back, and classes are resuming." Ignitia announced. "I expect all of you to carry on with your course materials and schedules despite the presence of our latest addition. It is true, the Purple Dragon will be training on the grounds: however," Ignitia sharply cut off the building whoops and cheers before anyone could suck in a good enough breath. "-she is not to be distracted, harassed or heckled in any sort of fashion. Failure to comply with these rules will result in severe punishment, punishment more severe than usual."
The dragons had all gone mostly quiet, though quite a few were standing on their hinds to get a better gander at the dragon and the human.
Spyra blushed when she noticed the various kinds of attention she was getting depending on gender. Drakes couldn't get their eyes off her. There was a dark blue one at the front of the gathering that was blatantly trying to get a better view of her haunches. The females were looking at her with a mixture of wonder, curiosity, and in a few cases envy.
The Fallen was okay with most of the praise going to Spyra anyhow, she deserved it, and it doubled to make his crotch-situation much less noticeable. He sheepishly tried to hide his slayer behind a thigh, and that only half-worked. There was a pink dragoness in the front rows who had caught sight of the unique event, and had preened her wings with a glassy look overtaking her eyes. The Fallen gave himself a mental pat on the back. He hadn't even given that one a sideways glance.
"-I-Inside-" The Fallen stammered, trying to get Ignitia's attention. "-I-I need to g-go inside now please-"
-Before I rip off my bottoms and start spearing.
"Yeah, I'd love ta' stick around and be everyone's role model, but I'm beat." Spyra called over the noise. "-You said we were gettin' rooms here, right?"
"Follow me." Ignitia smiled warmly, her face turning sharp as she navigated them towards the students. "Make way, all of you! You'll have plenty of time to introduce yourselves, but until then…"
"Look at the alien…"
"I thought she'd be bigger."
"…She's pretty."
"Look! A real Ape! It looks just like the dummies, only uglier…"
"Why is the alien walking like he's constipated?"
-The crowd buzzed, and the Fallen did his best to just focus on the move for the Temple and nothing else. His senses were being driven over the edge. He couldn't even see straight, he couldn't-
Bump
-Startled, he looked down and saw where a dragon had failed to move in time and had brushed lightly against the Fallen's leg.
It was a light blue dragoness with a pale underbelly and horns. She had lovely crystal blue eyes that were wider than the sun and stuck to his face. Her navy-colored wings were extended fully and her tail was daggered like a board.
The Fallen leered at her like a starving gorilla. Strangely, the 'ness didn't respond to the freakish behavior, instead, her head cocked to the side and her wings settled.
"Who are you?" She asked, monotone.
"Fallen." He drooled, the left side of his face twitching. "At your service, my lovely, scaly sex-nugget."
"I'm Tsunamis." The dragoness smiled eerily, something… off twinkling in her eyes. "You're so interesting."
"Move it, alien-boi', I've got a cramp in my haunch bigger than my fist!" Spyra nudged the lumbering human on. "Momma-Spyra needs her relaxation time!"
Tsunamis watched them both until they were long out of sight. But that twinkle in her eyes didn't quite go away. As the Fallen's aura began to worm through her scales, the young student dispersed with the rest of the awed crowd on lofty thoughts. She would not sleep easy tonight in the dorms after meeting such an intoxicating, interesting creature…
{🐉}
The Guardian Temple was the largest building on the campus, and yet where the Council Building gave off an almost oppressive shadow, Spyra could detect nothing but tranquility coming from this place.
Once Ignitia had finished a long (bordering painful) description of her classroom schedules, she led them up the steps and to the bronze doors. By this point the Fallen had somewhat recovered from his copious feminine draconic presence overload. He was still… out of it, to a degree.
"You feelin' alright, man?" Spyra blinked at him. "You look all twitchy and shit."
"I have no-" –A jolt overtook his left eye and nose. "-idea what you mean."
"Me and the lads could nevva get over this stoneywork you drags make up." Palmet examined one of the engraved walls of the temple's face, where it was carved to resemble the twisting form of a dragon. "I always said it was beyond our undehstandin and whatnot, but I gotta say I do, I ain't evva sported no kind of fascination with it until now."
"…A quaint observation, Ape." Ignitia blinked at him and then pushed open the bronze doors, their hinges creaking loudly. "Anyway: come inside! Quickly, I must show you the temple interior, it is truly something to marvel at. Do watch your step, dear, the floor raises there." She brushed Spyra with her tail as they stepped into the arch. "Welcome to the Temple of the Guardians!"
The inside resembled a cathedral. It was massive, several stories tall and domed at the top. Buttresses formed rows to link to fat pillars creating dual spines down the chamber's length. Copper smelted murals covered the western and eastern walls over arrays of doorways and heavy, intricately carved shelving units stocked with urns and jars of various make. Tapestry banners draped over every buttress, each one different in color, and bearing a different iconography, ranging from Warfang's heraldry to individual unit banners and banners from other dragon holds across the realms.
A quad of huge chandeliers made of black iron hung via chain from the very center of the dome above, each hearted with a brazier bowl. One chandelier had a towering cone of fire billowing from it, the next a crackling pylon of yellow electricity that danced and flickered, another a whispering stream of cold mist rising, the last brown dust spiraling in a miniature twister.
"Wow." Spyra smiled, her voice bouncing around the chamber. "This is a nice crib. You guys live here?"
"All four of us, yes." Ignitia backtracked and shut the doors behind them, sealing them in the complete amber-hued shade. It was cozy in here, the Fallen noted. Serene. You could close your eyes and still understand you were in a temple. "This temple is one of the oldest structures in Warfang. It was built eons ago, but no one ever listed the exact group of dragons who did so, it predates recorded history."
"…Yeah, that's cool…" Spyra was already waddling off to examine some urns. Ignitia hummed laughter at her and let her go.
"…Reel high…" Palmet staggered back and fell on his ass when he strained to take in the dome. "There's enuff space in here to keep an army there is!"
"Yeah, an army." The Fallen itched at his bandages, eyes sweeping over the mural taking up the west side of the chamber. Thousands of carvings interlocked across the copper surface, depicting a massive battle scene between dragons of two opposing sides. A wave of dragons poured over a wall and dueled with the other dragons atop and behind it. Teeth were chiseled, faces scrunched in furious hate and violence. The artist was skilled. He or she evoked what one was looking at. The Fallen could minutely feel his adrenaline rising just by observing the mural's length. "Not either of these armies, hopefully…"
"That's a depiction of the First Battle of Warfang." Ignitia drew by his side. "It was carved by ancient dragons using nothing but chisels and sharpening stones. It took them years, I think."
"It had to have." The Fallen stepped closer, his bandaged hand raising and hovering tentatively over the lower foot of the mural. "May I…?"
"Of course." Ignitia wandered closer, watching with intrigue as he touched the edge of a dragon in the piece and ran his fingertips down one of the ridges. "What are your thoughts on artwork, Fallen?"
"It's a variety of mediums that unify people and allow them to express themselves." He glanced at her. "Hopefully without judgment hot on their tails. And it's a great method of recording the past. It makes it harder for people to forget when ancient ancestors' faces are literally looking down at you from the hall."
Ignitia only answered him with a little sound of acknowledgment. She trotted even closer and laid her paw on the metal herself, appreciating the complexity.
"…That's very deep." She said after a moment. When he looked at her, she shrugged. "You are well-spoken, is all I'm saying. Most students here have never really grasped just the weight of where they are. I know this place is a school, and it's operated like that, but it is also a piece of our history. Just as much as those records recovered from Cynder."
"I guess the first thing I'd say: is that I've seen a lot of the best good, and worst bad, things that create a lot of emotional energy. Creating is a funnel for that kind of power." The Fallen twirled his hand. "More-or-less. But you have to wonder where any civilization would be without its most passionate citizens. Artists, writers and other intellectuals are the heart of that."
"Y-Yes." Ignitia blinked, impressed. "I've probably read a thousand such works on the subject of societal hierarchy and composition. Have you… have you studied this as well?"
"I've kind of been forced to." The Fallen rubbed the back of his neck.
"You are a very complex creature."
"I turn heads, I'll offer that much."
Crash~! –went an urn.
"-I didn't do it! The Ape did it!" Spyra called.
"Oi! That's a falsity that is!"
"This place really is beautiful. It has an… ancient feel to it." The Fallen looked around at the chamber. Ignitia cocked a brow.
"Ancient?"
"-Uhm, more of a term from where I come from. Listen, I don't mean to rush you at all, but, about these bandages and about the lodging…"
"Oh, yes of course." Ignitia put a paw on her forehead and clicked her tongue. "I'm forgetting the last twenty-four hours it seems. It's just that I am very happy to finally be back. I really did miss the academy."
"You seem passionate about your work." He fell into step beside her and away from the mural.
"I get by." She leaned closer and winked at him. "Experience, as you said."
"What does this do?" Crash~! "-Oh damn it. Sorry, Ignitia! I… uh… t-the Ape, he's completely out of control. Can I set him on fire?"
"Buggas to that! I'm bein framed!"
"Meep!"
"-AhhHAHha-! Get that thing away from me, dude, or I'll roast it!"
"I knew it wen I furst saw ya, purple drag! Yer nothing but a big ole meanie-pantaloons you are! I condemn ya!"
"Hey, buddo', ya' see this? Kiss my tail!"
"You really traveled the whole swamp with Spyra, by yourself?" Ignitia gasped as they passed into a hallway. "She's very… feisty."
"She's energetic." The Fallen shrugged, wincing when the bandages crinkled. "But coming down where I did was probably the best thing that could've happened. I'm… close with her."
"So I have been told." Ignitia had a weird look on her snout, something of a cross between a sultry grin and frown. "Fallen, I want to level with you, while we have a moment to ourselves…"
"Of course. Tell me."
"I do not fully understand the extents of your relationship with Spyra, and despite my initial, ahem, discomfort about it, I really do respect yours and her wishes. If you two have found something, despite the… differences, then I am happy for you."
"People don't cross that line here often?"
"Line? What do you-" Ignitia blushed. "-Oh, that. Well… it isn't exactly unheard of. Some dragons are… eccentric, a-and some Moles too… The problem is the lack of compatibility. You're the first visitor to Warfang I've witnessed not of Dragonkin who has proven even size and stature with us."
Ignitia realized what she was saying, and somehow the flush grew brighter. The Fallen nudged her shoulder teasingly, and all of her fins across her body stuck up at once, like hairs in the cold.
"N-Not that I'm suggesting anything." She snapped. "Oh, stop smiling like that, you know what I mean…"
"Just a little spice to your cinnamon?" He smelled her scent wafting in the air around her.
"You are a devious little thing, aren't you?"
"Adventurous, maybe a little insane." They came to a doorway, a heavy iron-rimmed door large enough for a dragon to walk through.
Ignitia pawed it open, revealing a sizable room beyond. A nest made of fluffed cushions and sheets was neatly prepared in the rear, surrounded by end tables, little curio cabinets and a dragon-sized washing tub embedded in the floor. A window overlooked the rear flank of the campus and the moat outside, bartered only by faintly drab curtains billowing from the slight breeze coming in. There was a shelving unit set up against the wall, and its interior was taken up with…
"Rocks?" The Fallen asked, hobbling into the room and examining the large collection against the east wall.
"Yes, you'll have to excuse the taste in decoration." Ignitia tiredly sighed, eyes scanning lazily about little crystalline quartz clusters melted into clay bowls that acted as décor on many of the tables and curios. "My sister, Terradora, follows the greatest example of us. Her passions are with the earth and stone. Could you tell?"
"Not at all." The Fallen picked up a quartz crystal, colored midnight purple from the shelf, turning it in his fingers to watch the window light glint off its flanks. There were all kinds of rocks there. Pink, blue, gray, black, white, shiny, dull, smooth, jagged…
Talk about dedication to the hobby.
"I thought Terradora was supposed to be this badass warrior type." The Fallen put the crystal down and walked over to the window, sifting a curtain over and peering at the campus and moat. "And, wait a minute: you're giving me her room? What if she comes back?"
"Terradora has not walked the halls of this temple in months." Ignitia smiled sadly, preening her wings as she sat in the center of the room. "It's not out of spite that I'd offer her personal space, but it is… -Ahem, I was about to say convenient, but really, I've kept her chambers organized for long enough. This is practically my second room by now."
The Fallen chuckled and moved over to the nesting, kneeling and feeling the sheets.
"It feels like a bed." He murmured. "Spyra's nesting was nice, but to have an actual bed? I haven't slept in a real bed in months."
"I could have the Moles fashion you a mattress if dragon-bedding isn't suitabl-"
"No, this is fine. I've found I prefer nesting anyhow." He said. "Lets me get in touch with my inner dragon."
"Inner dragon?" Ignitia laughed. "What in the world do you mean?"
"I've always coped better with dragons than my own people, or any other people for that matter." The Fallen twisted around, sighing in pleasure as he sank into the cushions of Terradora's nesting, and splayed his arms and legs out as he wiggled into the center. He yawned, his eyes turning heavy. "…It's just… who I am, really, on the inside… I've always loved dragonsss…"
Quiet snoring.
Ignitia hummed and watched the human rest. The glare from the window illuminated the edges of his athletic form. The Guardian found herself ogling as her amber eyes traced down his thin muscles, and picked out the curve in his narrow hips.
He was no dragon, but…
Ignitia sniffed.
…he certainly smelt as good as any drake. Actually, probably better.
What?
Ignitia shook her head and looked down at the floor guiltily. What was she saying? The stress must have roasted more of her brain than she had thought. Even if she had gone insane enough to consider such a taboo kind of thing as the flesh with the Fallen in mind, he positively stunk of Spyra. Ignitia had no doubt that the Purple Dragoness had purposefully doused every square inch of the Fallen's body with her pheromones to lay claim to him.
But, despite that feminine charge, it didn't make him any less drawing, any less… attractive.
The Guardian huffed, sneezing a lick of soot as she turned to leave the room with her tail between her legs. The strange buzz in the back of her mind that had been going since this morning was rising in intensity. It had completely slipped her mind by this point, the possibility of him enchanting her with anything. All Ignitia could internally war with herself over now was this flame crackling in her stomach.
She felt lightheaded and strangely hypersensitive. She wanted someone to touch her, all over, and her belly was overcome with butterflies.
She hissed. A very old, forgotten feeling stabbed into her thighs like a hot knife. Ignitia leaned against the archframe and peered at her haunch, as if searching for the blade itself to be there.
Terradora's room was a perfect example of why this was eliciting the panicked reaction she currently had. She was one of the four Guardians. She was a monk. Abstinence, penance, meditation, and the attainment of inner peace! There was no room for… for erotica in any of that!
Why erotica?
Because! He's… Ignitia went pale as snow and started chewing on her thumb, her eyes on the Fallen's chest in the nesting. …He's so… O-Oh my. No. Nonononono…
Bad girl. Stop this.
She pucked her palm on her horn and growled, going back into the hallway.
"Aw, radical! Is this our room?!" Spyra shouldered right past the startled fire dragoness and zipped into Terradora's chamber, her tail whipping as she gazed around excitedly. "What's with all the rocks? Eh, who cares. Sweet! A nest!"
Spyra flapped her wings and landed right on the Fallen's gut. The poor human sounded like a mule as he was jolted awake in a horrible cry of pain.
Spyra didn't seem to notice as she draped over him and nuzzled her face into one of the cushions.
"Oohhhyeahh luxury-class…" She muffled. "-Hey, Fallen, isn't this the comfiest nest ever? This is better than mine back at home!"
"…yes… it's fantastic…" He sputtered, her footpads pressing into his chin. "…I think you broke a rib, girlie'…"
"I-I'll leave you two to settle in." Ignitia tore her eyes from the display and backed out of the chamber. "In the meantime, I'll bring us all a meal, and in a few hours I'll introduce Spyra to the elemental training chamber."
"..thank you, Ignitia…" The Fallen weakly groaned over Spyra's giggling. "…Ouch, watch where you're stepping…"
"C'mere, human-boi', give momma-Spyra some sugah'… Oi! Shut the bloody door!"
C-dmmp
Ignitia quickly shut herself out, sweat developing on her scales as she tore back from the door handle and stared at it in apprehension.
She felt… bothered, right about now. She wasn't old enough for flares like that to start happening! It would be another few decades at least!
She needed air. Some space, and some cool breeze from her chamber's own window.
Yes, that sounded lovely. A moment to relax and unwind from the long journey, to take into account her-
"Uh, scuse meh, Miss Drag-Lady, but, uh… where are me and Meep supposed ta sleep exactleh?"
Ignitia almost trampled the poor Ape as she skidded to a halt. Palmet dumbly grinned up at her, his fangs yellow as piss and his eyes lit in the shade with oblivious intrigue. Meep was peering at her from the crook of his arm, undulating like a living splotch of glistening tar in his fur.
Apes truly were something else. Yet their strange blend of stupidity, curiosity and barbaric industriousness created something to be green over in all actuality. They were as ugly as they were survivable.
"…Yes," Ignitia blinked, searching the hallway around her. She hadn't intended to house an Ape. "…Ah, I know. This way."
"Right-o!" Palmet waddled close behind her. "Miss Drag-Lady, I gotta admit that you got plenteh of good energy in ya to extend yer hospitalness to someone like me. We were at war a week ago, eh? An yet here I is, movin down to me new quarterin inside yer temple! Mighty kind of ya, that."
"Don't let it go to your head. You are the Fallen's pet, and so I will tolerate your stench." Ignitia darkly peered back at him. "But the moment you stick your dirty fingers where they do not belong is when you outstay your welcome. I'll have you thrown in the city dungeons on the flick of a wing, Ape, believe you me."
"I ain't got nuthin but a desire to serve my new Master I do." Palmet happily said. "Them Fallen's a ton bettah than Cyndah or the Dark Mistress. He even let me handle the explosives when we were battling in the tower! Good times, them…" He drooled a little bit, his eyes getting glassy. "…Sonuvva broad's arse I luv explosions… Are there any job openins in the city that involve demolitions?"
"Not in your dreams."
"Mm. Shame that. Maybe Meep can keep me a dreem jurnal, an I can start on that path to lucidity dreemin, so I can make up my own explosions in my ead!"
Ignitia rolled her eyes and led him to a door. It was smaller than the doors to hers and the other Guardians' rooms. She pawed it open, revealing a small, flat cell.
Palmet waddled over and peered inside. There was a broom and a bucket stacked in the corner, an empty shelf gathering dust and an empty lantern on the floor that probably hadn't been lit in years. The faint stink of mildew was present, and emphasize it all, a pair of tiny moths fluttered out from the doorframe and vanished down the hall in feathery panic.
It was the room-wing's broom cubby.
"You can stay in here." Ignitia sourly grinned. "With the rest of the unwanted clutter. Be grateful, Ape, for the crimes your people have committed, I should have you tossed in a pit and-"
"It's perfect. Absoluteleh perfect it is!"
Ignitia's words tumbled into nonsense as Palmet's statement broke her grip on reality. She blinked dumbly.
"What did you say?"
"It's splendidness it is! I ain't evva had my own dedicated chambers before! Only the Chieftain and that mechanic-bugga he kept around had their own private quarters! This is the best day uv my life!" Palmet hurried inside, picking up the bucket and sticking it over the crown of his head, wearing the thing like it was a helmet. He muffled a cheer, and Meep slithered into the shelf, climbing on it like it was a gym-rack. "Thankye there, Drag-Lady! You've made this here Ape happeh ya have!"
"U-Uhm, t-that's- no." She hurried backed away when he lumbered towards her with the damned bucket still on his head, arms outstretched for a hug. "No, that will not be necessary. Just… gah~!" She tore away and stomped towards her own room. "Confine yourself there and do me a favor. If you touch anything in this temple, I'll strap you to a training rack and let the students use you for elemental target practice."
"Alls clear, Miss Drag-Lady!" Palmet called. "Now if'n you'll scuse meh, I've gotta take stock of my new private quarters! Ha-ha~!"
Clmp! –he slammed the cubby door shut. Ignitia barged into her chambers with a frustrated grunt, only mellowing out when she flopped into her amber sheeted nesting and lye there for a while.
…So soft…
Her foul mood bled from her, and she sighed in content. Turning onto her back, the Guardian pawed the air and looked around her room dotingly. The whole thing was colored and decorated to look like one continuous ream of bronze fire. The curtains were blazing umber, the sheets and cushions crimson with golden trims, the meditation station carved from marble to be a roaring bonfire flame just ahead of the brown mat-carpet laid out at its feet.
Ignitia shut her eyes when she remembered that technically, she still had to go get the party food from the lecture wing.
It could wait.
All of this mental chaos had made her tired, and a dragoness needed her beauty naps when the time came…
It was good to be home.
{🐉}
