"It's disgusting!" squeaked Merrick.
Alden merely gagged, avoiding the romantic scene that was going on right in front of them.
"Disgustin'!" echoed Tatiana, looking away from Jarsha and Milda who were – dare I write it? – kissing.
"Repulsive! Revolting!" cried Nanette, also looking away. She knew perfectly well it wasn't, of course, but Jarsha was fourteen and Milda fifteen, which meant that it hopefully wouldn't happen to her for a long while. Young love was usually fine, though – provided there was no kissing in it, whether it was for the first time, the last, or anywhere in between. And in this case – do I even need to acknowledge it? – there obviously was.
So, as those not brave enough under the age of twelve gagged with the beastliness of it all – and, suffice to say, some of those who looked away and strained unhappily with the situation were well past that particular age. But, for the most part, since the group of Surdans and Varden gathered around were adults, they cheered excitedly. No one was exactly sure why – as far as they were concerned, they were happily celebrating (evidently, this wasn't a bad thing), and that was that.
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Teenagers, remarked Solembum.
Teenagers, agreed Iganì, whacking her tail on the ground. Biting down hard on her tongue with bright teeth, she fixed the two of them – who were still locked in their embrace – with a piercing gaze, making what sounded like a grunt of annoyance deep in her throat.
You know, I just realized, returned a thoughtful Solembum, that you're not elated as one who is in the midst of her first kiss should be. You and Milda share feelings, do you not?
Crimson Flame, who was curled up beside his fellow dragon with the werecat on her neck, interestedly watched the mental fight that ensued. He couldn't make out what they were saying – he was still too young to begin communicating by thought, and, likewise, too young to sense their emotions – but he could, on a mild degree, sense their feelings from their body language.
Our mental link isn't strong enough yet for me to feel Milda's emotions. Iganì grunted, flipping her tail to reveal its even scalier underside. She was clearly in a dark mood, but, nevertheless, the werecat could sense a slight happiness that was slowly rising in her.
And I – like you – am not condemned to the idiocies that seem to flock to some of the younger humans like fleas on a particularly unkempt beast. Solembum calmly surveyed the situation through sanguine eyes, nonchalantly lifting a clawed paw, which he then began to lick casually. (And yes, I am aware that there are three synonyms of the word 'collectedly' in that sentence.) I know that your mental link has been developing for some while now. Tell me – after all, we all know it anyway.
Iganì merely snorted, turning her massive horned head to face Crimson Flame, who was still watching them with wide amber eyes. And you, younger dragon, what think you? Perhaps you can talk, or at least sense emotions?
As if. Solembum nimbly leapt from Iganì's thick neck, landing from the humped ridges to the yellow grass with an easy, flowing pounce. He is young, and in this day dragons are not as, say, intelligent as they once for. Quietly, he observed Crimson Flame, eyes bright. As for your mental link once more – I can sense the happiness radiating from you even now, though you and your Rider would be better off learning to improve it. Be not happy when you wish not to be.
That was pure (coughoutofcharactercough) Solembum for you; always calm, always dignified, eternally sarcastic. Though, expectedly enough, the werecat was wiser than his unkempt looks would let on. This was how it had been, this was how it was, this was how it would be. After all, Angela the herbalist couldn't completely be on of the oddest people out there without a little help from a furry animal companion. The two of them made an estranged pair.
Oh, it must be mentioned – Solembum was right, of course. She found herself incredibly happy because of the feat Milda had accomplished and though this part was buried deep under a pile of her own wise, draconic sentiments, she could still feel it under there. She was simply happy as a result – though not as much as Milda herself was; Iganì was pessimistic for a dragon – and heeding of Solembum's caution.
Crimson Flame was still there, of course, looking from dragon to werecat with wide, shining eyes. He scrutinized she pondered and Solembum continued to stroke his claws with strokes from his tongue, feeling strange. It was strange, Crimson Flame sensed, the way the two of them – one lost in her thoughts, the other casually performing a trivial nothing – ignored him. He was curious, observing, wondering why they had barely taken note of him, then almost immediately felt indifferent. It was a trifle, he knew, and – when he thought about it – he had felt stranger a few days ago, upon hatching. What had Iganì and Solembum been discussing earlier? Now, he figured, was a time for serious contemplation.
Why? Somehow, the question, wordless and unheeded, echoed through his mind. How had this happened? No, that was unnecessary… He knew why. He knew many things, and though while now his major sentiment was mild curiosity, he remembered how he had felt earlier when he had been with Nanette and her friends. It had been strange; Crimson Flame grew puzzled at the very thought. Earlier on he had done as an older dragon, complete with sarcasm and intelligence. Now, he was like a hatchling emerged from the egg some short while ago -- which was what he was, really. Perhaps a little more, but definitely not less. Yet… Even now at this young age, he could sense the overjoyed and disgusted sensations that Nanette was experiencing with some careful examination. She was too young; she hadn't attempted to approach her dragon since he had hatched. Now, he was a mere hatchling, and there she was, a part of the group that was grouped around Jarsha and Milda.
Crimson Flame also didn't understand why the throng had been cheering so, either, but yet again a calm, understanding sensation filled him. It was, he knew, Nanette; as if he had put mental voice to his puzzlement, her viewpoint was answering him. He caught glimpses of the two strangely close together, with their lips pressed against each others'. Jarsha's normally dreaming brown eyes were large and open, while Milda's mire-gray orbs seemed to be rushing with adrenaline that caused her to enjoy life from its ups and downs to its core and meaning. So saw Crimson Flame as he gazed upon the two of them, and while some deep part of him felt satisfied, the rest of him felt curious.
Though it was only a mild curiosity which explained why, with a toss of his silver-spiked head, the dragon turned to face Iganì instead of the young lovers. The large purple-scaled beast's tail was softly thwacking against the ground as she wiggled her shoulders, evidently conversing with the werecat now perched up there. Crimson Flame caught sight of her toss her large head, a puff of smoke wafting from her nostrils as she, clearly distraught, communicated with Solembum. Of course, he couldn't hear what they were saying, though it was easy enough to know by their body language; they were mentally arguing and Solembum had a winning edge. After all, he was older than both dragons by far; while another dragon's wisdom may have been unmatched, Solembum was armed to the teeth with a balance of enough wisdom and sarcasm that was enough to fluster Iganì.
Crimson Flame crawled over, placed his head on Iganì's leg, and hummed comfortingly, though he knew not why. Solembum gave him an amused glance, then jumped from her shoulder with the greatest of ease.