Title: Dragons
Character(s): Drake, Shirley
Summary: He needed somewhere to go. The temple was as good a place as any.

'What is it with these woods?' he wondered, 'It's all the same! Endless!'

Leaves in varying shades of green whipped past his swarthy face, stinging cheeks that glistened with the sweat born of humidity and an unceasing flight. Guards were hot in pursuit; he could hear them, their armor clamoring in that recognizable tinny racket as they maneuvered through the trees. He leapt over another jutting root and continued his sprint, panting heavily, but not yet exhausted. He laughed breathlessly as he heard the curses behind him. Someone must have tripped.

The all too familiar feel of adrenaline raced with him, as it always did—a bandit's best friend during a run, but a target for creative vulgarity at the moment of abandonment. A love-hate type of relationship and at the moment he loved it. He laughed in wild glee as the encompassing surge of energy propelled him over stones and roots. The towering trees and overgrown bushes blurred past him in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

The thundering footfalls of the white-clad guards were resounding more loudly than before…

Coming across an unfamiliar path leading upwards, he decided to give it a chance. It was a close call this time, and any means of escape would be a welcome visage. They, the guards, might even abandon the chase upon this new route. It certainly looked deserted enough. Still, it was greener, and he was starting to get tired of all that green. Shoving his new distaste for the color aside, he veered to the left and headed up this new place.

Words couldn't describe how relieved he was to see the green thinning out. It was a bothersome color after all. He wanted to stop and take a breather, just enjoying the brown and auburn of the newly unveiled dirt and those pales shades of gray in the stones. How long was it since he'd been able to abandon the woods? Weeks upon weeks of hiding out in trees and covering himself in leaves had finally taken its toll on him, and he decided that this new stony sight was a good enough place to rest.

He couldn't hear the guards anymore.

'Heh, guess that path was a good deterrent after all.'

His heart was racing a mile a minute and his breath was coming out in short gasps. While grateful for the new array of colors to rest his eyes on, he couldn't exactly deny that it was hot. The raggedy violet hat on his head came off, and he wiped his sweating face on his equally sticky arm. A breeze blew, and the feeling of that air—hot and dry as it was—playing with his tresses was the most heavenly thing he'd felt in a long time. He breathed it in as he paced, stretching his limbs and trying to get his aching body to relax after such a long run.

'That'll be the last time I hit Fletz for awhile…' he thought, patting a pocket; it jingled under his fingers.

Having regained his bearings, he began walking in no direction in particular, as long as it wasn't back towards that damnable green.

~:~

By the time he'd walked a mile and a half up and down the rocky slopes, he was drenched in sweat and out of breath. His legs were aching, his bare shoulders burning, and his dripping black hair kept slapping him in the face. He would have removed his hat, but he knew that he'd only wind up baking his head and making his situation worse.

He grunted in disconcertment as he lost his balance again atop some weak rocks that slid under his foot and tumbled ominously down a particularly steep drop. Bracing himself on some jutting pieces of the cliff, he gingerly lowered himself onto a ledge wide enough to support him. He sighed and swiped a torrent of sweat from his brow before rubbing his eyes. He had misgivings about stopping in such a dreadfully hot area, but his legs would not be cajoled from their stubborn numbness, and eventually exhaustion won out. He fell asleep, and the darkness was wonderful.

~:~

'Owls… I hear owls…' blearily his pried his eyes open and looked around him.

Night had snuck up on him, it seemed. Groaning, he stretched and winced until he was satisfied that every joint had been liberally popped and cracked. He had fallen asleep sitting up and his was stiff as a board, but he managed to stumble to his feet and grope around for a strong hold. It was, thankfully, much cooler, and he had dried off in the duration of his nap. His contraband was still securely pocketed, and he considered this a good sign.

His parched throat, on the other hand, was not.

But he lowered himself down the slope nonetheless. It wasn't as dark as he'd been expecting. In this place the stars gleamed unnaturally bright and the moon was full. It took some time, but he reached the bottom and began moving again, desperately trying to ignore the sandy dryness of his mouth and his dead, swollen tongue.

~:~

He laughed, roughly and hoarsely, when he heard that familiar sound, and considered it a miracle. The soft gurgle was music to his ears, and the sound of it gave him, despite his dehydration, the power to run again. He stumbled and tripped all the awhile, until he found the edge of that body of water that he had heard. Without a thought to his surroundings, he dove right in.

It was cold! Blissfully and beautifully cold, and he drank deeply and fully until his stomach was heavy and his mouth was saturated. Then he laughed again, and this time the sound was rich and deep, the way it should be. He swam for awhile, until he noticed just where he was.

The thing was… he didn't exactly know where he was. He drifted along in the water for a moment more, staring at the pale bricks that seemed to glow a white-silver in the moonlight. There were stairs leading into the water, odd, but he climbed them anyway. Then, with water pouring off of him in streams, he walked towards the wide pergola. Somehow, despite its deserted, skeletal appearance, it didn't feel all that ominous. He walked through it, marveling at the crumbled pillars, until he came to the archway at the end. He stopped and looked up, on a whim, and gazed at the emblem of a dragon carved above the door.

A smile graced his face at the sight of it. "Now that's a welcome." He whispered wryly.

He stepped through.

This place was like another realm entirely, an oasis in a rocky desert of hot air and stooping cliff faces. He felt privileged to walk within it, admiring the architecture and the sprawling stairways that led up and down to everywhere. He took his time going through it, noting the dragons carved here and there, and eventually he came to the widest set of stairs yet. Statues identical to some other pair he had seen earlier stood guard on either side of it. He ascended to the circular space above and looked around, breathing sharply at he looked over the edge.

The view was grandiose, unspeakably so. Lush trees, glistening water, and the ruins of the white building stretched out before him. The tiresome trek was worth this…

"It is equally beautiful at all hours, I believe…" a soft, feminine voice spoke from behind him.

Still entranced, he didn't think as he responded. "I don't doubt it."

He then realized his folly, and spun around quickly to meet the person who had joined him. His eyes widened at the sight of her, for she looked every bit as ethereal as her backdrop, floating there in the air. The long, thick tail of her blue cloak swayed gently in some imaginary breeze, along with her hair, which was the liveliest shade of red he'd ever seen. Calm brown eyes surveyed him with open curiosity.

"It has… been many years since anyone has visited this shrine." She murmured, not looking away.

He didn't know how to respond to that really, so he just settled for an introduction. "Name's Drake," he said, "just wandering."

A smile softened her face. "Shirley," she replied. "Please, stay awhile."

~:~

Drake was perched on a rock the next morning with his pouch in hand. He turned it over and listened with satisfaction as the glittering gold coins tumbled out. Callous fingers nimbly and expertly counted them. Sixty coins total—a respectable amount. He placed them back in their bag, mentally going over what he could buy with them. A few Fogs perhaps…

'Doesn't matter,' he thought. 'If I go to Lohan I can snatch a few coins here and there from the traders…' he trailed off, eyes flickering over to the dais below him.

He frowned, confusion twisting his shaded face, and wondered why he was feeling the stirrings of apprehension. The frown deepened, and his dark eyes turned thoughtful. Shirley? She was absent for the time being, he knew, as she had said just before dawn that the day was typically her resting time. He idly considered what she'd think if he told her the real reason he had showed up… Drake shook his head, hat flopping. What would a ghost care if he was a bandit? He snorted and leapt down, landing in a crouch. Shirley was a kind woman, but he wasn't going to let meeting her affect his ways.

With a brief glance back, he left.

~:~

Drake reached the shrine with less trouble than he had before, having been prepared for the trek this time around. He stopped at the stairs that led into the water and refilled his flask, a nice new thing that he had obtained from Lohan. It had been as crowded and loud as it always was, but he had managed to hit a few shops before he left. Durable brown gloves and boots adorned his hands and feet and his clothes were devoid of tears and loose stitches. The violet hat perched on his head was still a rag, but he loved it too much to find a replacement.

He sighed and removed it, tying it to his belt with the full flask. He looked towards the archway and made for it, wondering if he'd be welcome this time.

"I see you've returned."

Drake looked up in surprise, seeing Shirley floating there with a calm smile on her face. There was a knowing look in her eye upon observing his clothing and heavy pockets. He shrugged and straightened his shoulders, looking at her in something akin to genuine apology.

"I had to take care of some things." He told her.

She tilted her head. "Banditry?" she asked. "Or am I mistaken?"

He almost stiffened, but reminded himself that it didn't matter if a ghost knew. "Drake the Bandit," he confirmed. "How'd you guess it?"

"It took no guesswork." She said airily. "Not when petty thieves come here monthly, seeking the treasures left behind." She sighed there. "They may have mentioned it before they were overcome by the monsters that occasionally roam here."

Treasure? Petty thieves? He had never once heard of this shrine before he stumbled upon it… how was it that lesser bandits than he would come here constantly in search of this treasure? Shirley saw his confusion and looked to be relieved by it. Drake was bewildered by this for a moment, before realizing that she was probably glad he wasn't here to disturb her possessions.

He entertained the thought of the treasure, trying to tempt himself, but the weight of his pockets distracted him. He didn't need anymore. He didn't need it. Drake patted his pockets to let Shirley hear the generous jingle of his stolen goods, to let her know that he had no need for her gold… or whatever the treasure was. He had his own.

~:~

He was there the next time a thief came ambling through her corridors, a week after their discussion. He saw the greasy little man in dark clothes, sneaking here and there and up stairways. Drake followed him under the cover of the large green trees. He was right behind the man before long, watching him bent greedily over a tiny, hidden chest under some rocks.

"Easy," he muttered. "This is easy…" his hands found the coins inside the box and he laughed, hysterical.

For some reason indignant, Drake drew his knife and placed it at the hollow of the man's neck. "Drop it."

He jerked, the thief, and pulled his own weapon out. "NO! It's mine, I came here, and I found it!"

His pale eyes were crazed and his face was burnt. Drake realized with a start that the trip over the mountains must have given the man a rough time. He wasn't exactly all there. Drake stepped back to avoid being stabbed and, in a split-second's decision, reversed his blade to drive the hilt of the knife into the man's gut. He spluttered and coughed, and Drake bodily dragged him away from the shrine.

'The heat'll kill him.' Drake thought. 'I would have… but I refuse to let…' he paused for a moment, and an unbidden thought entered his mind. 'No blood should be split here unnecessarily.'

What?

He climbed back up the stairs and neatly placed all the coins back in the chest. His mind was numbly blank as he did this, and his thoughts all seemed to rush back at him after he'd closed the lid on the box. He stared at it, mind whirling at how unguarded and vulnerable the treasure seemed to be. Shirley could hardly protect it, being transparent. It seemed a little unfair…

But he was a bandit! What did he care for fairness?

And yet his eyes never left the chest.

~:~

Drake was lounging on the dais, stargazing, when Shirley appeared. He didn't look towards her as she approached him, looking at him in some wonderment. He was gnawing on a fish bone, thinking. She let him, remaining silent while he gathered his thoughts. Drake felt a stab of appreciation for it, which startled him to a degree, and then he settled down, wondering why. His life had recently taken a more interesting turn and these new things were commonplace now.

He sighed and picked out some constellations he'd learned from his brief stint at Fletz.

For some obscure reason, he was already attached to the shrine. A week and a day spent at it had given him a level of fondness for the place that was on par with that which he held for his hat. He felt no inclination to leave, other than perhaps needing new supplies every now and then. Of course, the feeling would probably wear off eventually…

'Get over it Drake.' He thought to himself tiredly. 'You know it won't…'

"Drake?" Shirley prompted.

He glanced her way and, feeling unfamiliar warmth in his chest, told her, "I'll stay awhile."