Straydog Saga

Flea 34: No Rest for the Wyrm-kin

Orifiel rolled up the gold-bordered scroll with stiff fingers. She placed it on the table in front of her, atop the wrinkled progress reports and scratched-out condolence letter drafts. She had repeated the motion several times, as if the words written would somehow change if her eyes left them for too long. Romulus, who sat beside her at the small table, refreshed the shaking dragon's tea. Orifiel didn't notice his hand on her shoulder until Romulus gave a gentle squeeze.

"Stop, you're going to make yourself sick," Romulus softly spoke as the trembling Ori moved a shaking hand towards the soothing liquid. The warmth of her cup slowly consumed her palm with a gentle heat.

"I-I can't believe it. I mean I wanted this but now that she finally replied…" Orifiel's voice lost its muster.

"Mother would not do it lightly. I would not delay, though. Mother's used to expedience when dealing with commoners. You wouldn't want to ruin any chance of, well, finding out. I can keep everything running while you and Seth are away," Romulus assured. Orifiel gave a small smile as she held back the teary emotions pushing their way to her face.

"Th-Thank you, for everything you've done," Orifiel sighed with a shudder. Thoughts of the red dragon's constant guidance and assistance in both the White Branch Initiative and her personal affairs colored the grey fog in her mind. Romulus shook his head and said nothing as he sat back in his chair, "I'll be leaving in the next few hours. Seth should be finishing up the task I gave him this morning. I need to go before I loose the ability."

"I won't let that happen, nor will Seth. If he is still too weak to drag you to Northrend, I'll do it myself." Romulus gave a silly smile, causing the gloomy pale one to give a much-needed laugh.

"Much appreciated. Your consorts are lucky to have such a caring male in their life."

"I try," Romulus closed his eyes and bowed his head with a charmingly smug smile. He raised his head slightly and slowly opened one wandering eye. "And if you ever get tired that curmudgeon you call a mate…"

"No, Romulus."

"I know, I know. But you cannot blame a male for trying, right?"

"I certainly can't. Besides, a red dragon prince shouldn't be, um, sampling the common pale pudding anyway," Orifiel laughed. Her own smile diminished as the serious look on Romulus' face came to her vision. She gave him a questioning look for a moment as he sighed. Despite the pale dragon's accomplishments that the dragon prince could find no words to refute, despite the well adjusted nature that constantly kept balance between the various peoples of the tree, and despite the kindness that kept Romulus' own boundless, masculine wanderlust from ruining a wonderful friendship, Orifiel seemed to have had no more self-worth in her current station than the common chamber maid.

"The sooner you get to Northrend, the better…"

Christoffel paced about the small inn-room like a caged panther. The sea air was briny on the wind, and the sound of dockworkers carefully dropping boxes was a constant grinding on his nerves. His brother had left for his meeting with the Lady Proudmoore over four hours prior, leaving only half a loaf of bread, some berry jam, and a pitcher of water for him to sate any physical hunger that the fel gem in the choker around his neck could not. Human guards stood just outside, and the fall from the small window would, at the very least, break a bone if he fell.

But feelings began to chip away at the comfortable numbness he had maintained since the events on the smoking balcony. He felt his heart seize occasionally as his chest and arms were in a constant state of tenseness.

Even the haunting, nightmarish images of his pathetic father were a welcome space-filler in his mind's eye as a smiling purple face and a sailor-mouthed voice clawed at his consciousness. His brother's assertions only served to make the feelings in his chest worse as he finally found the ability to lie down on the humble bed in the room for more than a few seconds.

Christoffel busied himself with studying the various knots and lines in the wood grain, eyes swimming along the wooden streams as a pair of glowing, honest eyes seemed to shine in the afternoon glow. Christoffel closed his eyes, but the darkness only brightened the twin pale orbs.

"…Dori," he sighed as they finally came: long, wet snakes of salty emotions slithered down his cheeks and onto the pillow beneath him. He raised his hands and pressed the bottoms of his palms on the upper parts of his cheeks as he grimaced back the sobs. He rolled over onto the pillow, buried his face into its soft depths, and let out a baleful yell that went unheard in the pillow's muffling pocket. As the crying episode continued, Christoffel felt phlegm rush into his nose, the need to breathe forcing his red face to resurface.

Christoffel did his best to steady his breathing. A small, bitter laugh came as he rested the back of his hand on his forehead. The image of Shandori that came in clear in his mind put her hands on her hips and shook her head. She mouthed the words: "Come on, demon-sucker! You're crying like a little bitch." Which brought another, more comforting feeling into his otherwise flayed heart. She seemed too alive in his mind, as if no ghost could hope to match the vivid image. His brother's words, the thought she may still be alive, and not knowing threatened to pull him back into another wave of unbound sorrow. But that face, that smug smile held his attention and brought his mind far from the pain of that terrible night.

A few moments after the last of his tears dried he heard the door click. Christoffel sat up to see a golden glow followed by his brother entering the room. Han looked to him with a twinge of knowing sadness, which made Christoffel look away.

"How are you feeling?" Han asked as he walked towards the small bed. As he sat, Christoffel moved to sit up beside him, shoulders still tense but body making no motion to escape his brother's side.

"Bad."

"Understandable," Hanariel nodded, his frame hunching as it did only a few months prior. A small smile came to his face as he found he lost the courage to look his younger brother in the eye. He did his best to straighten his posture to that of the High Mystic he had become and turned to face his brother. "We'll be leaving tomorrow, and we'll be taking your father with us."

"…s'that so? Convinced them, did you?" Christoffel snorted. Han nodded, placing his hand in his lap and looking to the eye pattern as he turned his hand over to look at his light-bathed palm.

"It was not easy. I could not give specifics, which did hurt my cause, but unlike Hollus, my duty is to preserve the timeline not use it for my own gain. Still, Lady Proudmoore is wise, and she did understand in the end. You should know, once we get him to the tree…"

"I said it once, and I'll say it again: I don't give a shit what happens to that asshole."

"Its not about you," Han curtly spoke. Christoffel felt his throat clinch as his brother's golden gaze shot up to capture his own green orbs. Han visibly struggled to keep his emotions in check as he stared his brother down.

"When I woke up after my injury," Han motioned to the space where his right arm would have been, "They told me I couldn't see my brothers or father. The medics said you were busy, you were safe, they would always say that when I asked. It wasn't until they were sure that I was stable that they told me you were missing, and the rest of my family was already in the ground. I never got to say goodbye to my father; OUR father. It is a part of my life I will never be able to relive, despite my new gifts. You have a chance to make peace with the man that gave you life. If you will not do it for yourself, do it for those who couldn't," Han quietly but forcefully spoke. There was a tense silence between them before Christoffel finally broke the thickness between them.

"I-I don't know if I can. He's done so much shit; ruined my life; yours too. Why do you care about his peace?"

"I don't. In fact, I'll take great pleasure in doing what must be done to that unbelievable bast-," Han posed and cleared his throat of the rest of the uncouth word, "villain when the time finally comes. But I DO care about you. You don't deserve this burden. I am blessed to have you back, even with fel eyes, black hair, or otherwise. I just wish you'd see REASON for once."

"You couldn't make me see it when I was 6. What makes you think you're going to do it now?" Christoffel smiled. Han gave a warm, relief-filled smile at the first concrete acknowledgement of familial bond from his distrusting brother. Han gave a wide smile and nodded as the air around them began to cool as wounds long open slowly began to close.

Shandori walked along the crumpled halls of Mydrassil's trunk with a repressed, smug smile. Her dragon companions, Lumi and Kat, walked just a few steps ahead to stop any mortal seeing justice, or a hefty bounty. As a child of the red flight, Kat was bound to carry out the instructions written by her mother's mortal-draped hand on the paper in Shandori's. In exchange for amnesty, a small stipend, and taunting rights, Shandori pledged her services to the White Branch Initiative and the Red Flight. But the paper would be rendered void outside of Mydrassil, and if she did not carry out the will of her new benefactors.

"Things are coming along nicely. The energy here is pure. Your mate's forces are impressive, Kat!" Lumi commented as she pressed a plump leaf between her index finger and thumb.

"He's not my mate," Kat flatly spoke, causing a small, uncomfortable blush to spread across the blue dragon's human-appearing face.

"Well, I'm glad things aren't broken too bad," Shandori spoke as twin glares stabbed her voice with a quieting wound, "heh…heheheh…I'll shut up now."

"You have the luck of the gods, Shandori, that's all I'll say," Kat snorted as she turned her vision back to the path before her.

"Well, as loathed as I am to admit it, your shield strike WAS pretty, 'awesome' as you mortals say," Lumi admitted with a stuffy expression. Shandori's smile finally escaped.

"Liked that did you? If you let me ride you again-"

"Not a chance! Such a thing is undignified for a dragon of my breeding. Besides, when you talk about it in that manner, it sounds scandalous," Lumi huffed. Typically Shandori would have a snide comment for such snobbery but, coming out of the mouth of a dragon, it seemed to appropriate the thought.

"Alright, alright," Shandori laughed as she felt a phantom arrow pierce her back. Her eyes went wide for a moment as a familiar, dreadful perfume filled her nose. Her whole body froze as the first voice she ever learned hissed her name like a venom-mouthed snake. The two mortal-bodied dragons paused and turned to face the frozen night elf with questioning looks.

Standing behind the warrior was a night elf priestess and her acolytes. The older, scowling woman resembled an older version of the brash Shandori, but the grace of Elune and the elegance of her station overcame any familial resemblance and stopped the fury that brightly burned behind her pale eyes.

"How DARE you?" Iona Sagesmoke angrily whispered as Shandori turned to look into her mother's hate-filled eyes. "After all you've done how DARE you show your face here?"

Shandori didn't answer. All of the gall, vinegar and energy she had were drained into the landscape. Shandori lowered her gaze like a defeated child as her mother quickly walked to her, tears visible, and brought a hand to her face. Shandori did not react other than to place a hand on the stinging spot where her mother's palm struck. Kat immediately came between the fuming priestess and her estranged daughter, allowing no further physical injury. But not even a magic-wielding dragon could silence Iona's vicious verbal blows as they freely flew from angry lips.

"Do you know what has happened? Do you know what you and your filthy friends nearly did? Your sister and her child nearly DIED because of you! And now you walk about this place like you don't have a care in the world?" Iona erupted. Her heavenly acolytes were taken aback by the wave of hurt and rage, trying to fight her way through, who she thought, was another willowy high elf woman.

"The stress YOU put her though caused the child to come early, TOO early! I was there, I know! The child nearly died if not for my prayers and Falina's training. You vile, wrenched baby murderer!" Iona raged. Kat scowled, shoving the priestess back and giving her a warning look with magical, draconic eyes.

"Ma'am, calm down. You have attacked a ward of the dragonqueen and, as such, I have the right to bring you into custody if you continue. You must stop," Kat gently but firmly spoke.

"Wh-what?" Iona was dumbstruck. Kat went on to explain what had happened, putting a heroic and redemptive spin on Shandori's sorded story. Distrust and disbelief filled her angry eyes as they darted about her daughter's form. Shandori buried her mind deep within herself, unable to hear the belittling and degrading voice. Even the dragons, who did their best to defend her from further verbal abuse, barely registered.

Her mind desperately clung to the one comforting thing in her life ,and the darkness within, the cinching vice around her, began to abate. A small smile came to her otherwise blank expression as she felt a warm grip on her shoulder. Shandori's mind snapped back into reality as an exited word broke from her mouth before she could stop it.

"Chris?" she gasped and turned to find the originator of the warm hand looking to her with teary, red-orange eyes. "I-Ima…"

"Miss Dori, you're OK!" Ima leaped to the night elf and gave her a relief-filled -but sob-laden- hug. The kind-hearted troll, who had run ahead of her goblin companion, ignored the scene before her, and provided the distraction necessary to erase Iona's presence. While Kat lead the disgusted priestess away, Shandori gratefully returned the warm gesture.

"W-We didn't know what happened to ya, kiddo. I'm so glad you're in one piece," F-bomb smiled. Lumi raised a brow and looked to the three with slight confusion, as the warmth of the scene could not be ignored.

"I-I'm alright. Where's Chris…tell me he isn't…" Shandori's eyes, usual walls erased by her mother's presence, darted with desperation between the two. Her lack of comment on their welfare only served to cause amused smiles to spread on both F-bomb and Ima's faces.

"He's alive, Miss Dori, but he's with the High Mystic right now. They should be coming back to the tree soon, I think," Ima informed.

"Y-You're sure? How do you know?" Shandori asked. Ima explained her connection to the tree's operations chief, which brought a look of surprise and genuine awe on Shandori's face.

"Wow, so…did he offer you work or a position here or something?"

"N-No. But he is going to help me restore my gnome form in a more permanent way; at least, keep it up while I'm still going to school; you know, once everything dies down and gets settled again. And I won't even need to get any seeds from Herbert: they can all be donated," Ima smiled.

"So…we didn't need to go to Ashenvale at all? Wonderful…"

"Well, Miss Dori, had we not gone to Ashenvale, you wouldn't have ended up in jail, and we wouldn't have met F-bomb, Miss Maiev, or Mr. Daggerfang…speaking of which, I wonder what happened to him?" Ima mused. She was completely unaware of the worgen's discovery and the healing family re-forming in Moonglade.

"Haven't seen him either…" F-bomb shrugged.

"That's true. And we may not have hooked up with Meryld again. Where is she? Stuck in a beer hall somewhere?" Shandori chuckled at the thought, but the sad expressions on the pair's faces wiped the smile from her own. Her brow furrowed with worry as the pair hesitated to answer. "Where's Meryld?"

"Sh-She didn't make it. Smoke and strain was too much for the old girl. Went down fighting though according to Maiev," F-bomb informed with wet, shining eyes. Shandori felt a wall of thick air strike her as her heart sunk. She slowly shook her head as memories of the vivacious and unusually spry senior attempted to render the statements false.

"But…but she was a shit-kicker; a warrior like me. I mean how could she be?"

"Mortals die. The mortal spirit often makes your kind seem far stronger than your frail bodies actually are," Lumi said in the softest, humblest tone she was capable of. Though the harsh tone caused Ima and F-bomb to cast the dragon a disapproving look, Shandori slowly nodded.

"You're right, Lumi. Shit dies all the time," Shandori sighed. The four females continued through the trunk in mutual silence, the company and energy of actualized friendship providing more comfort and support than any cruel force could break.

"You called, sir?" Keesha drawled as she walked past a pulsing bundle of tangled roots. Small patches of red-violet scales grazed her golden vision, but she quickly turned her attention to the night elf-bodied, black dragon who requested her presence. His breathing seemed slightly heavy, but the hunch in his back and the amount of bandages on his mortal form seemed diminished.

"Yes, I require your expertise. When the forces of the factions arrive, we will not have the opportunity to do what must be done, and I'm not well enough yet to expend the concentration necessary. You will need to learn how to do this on your own anyway. It may prove highly useful in the future," Seth huskily spoke. Keesha turned to look at the root-trapped dragon and gave a slight snort.

"If you say so. What are we going to do with her?"

"With a bit of work, garner some much needed information," Seth slowly moved to crack his stiff neck, "Please remove some of the roots about her face."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"You have trusted me with much; trust me now," Seth requested. Keesha slowly nodded and with a wave of her rune-bathed hands, the roots the stabbed and squirmed, within Pashima's maw receded. Keesha resisted the urge to cover her ears at the agonized roar that bellowed through the prison layer of the Tangled Canal.

"PUT THEM BAAACK!" Pashima desperately commanded as the pain and loss from within poured into the glowing eyes. Keesha looked to the scowling Seth who motioned to one of the loose roots. Keesha summoned it to her and allowed the wooden torturer into her own flesh. At once, a flood of images washed over her mind's eye. Keesha could see a sky choked with happy, healthy red dragons. Though their world was war-torn and demon-damaged, the happy brood darted about the sky in their innocent play.

Keesha could see one among them, a small female, chose to fly beside her regal-looking mother. Though the red female was by no means a dragon queen, the small dragon-child clung to her mother's side as a mother's love draped over her like a cradling cloud. The tiny red dragonling, known to her brothers and sisters as Pashistrasza gleefully chirped as one of her brothers flew in close to land a tickling blow on her tail. Keesha snapped back to reality as the root moved from her grip and back to its place around the prisoner.

"Did you see it?" Seth asked with a dark smile.

"I did…what was all that? Was it real?"

"You tell me."

"It felt like the past, but not. Even being in the Ether, I couldn't really tell. But YOU know, don't you?" Keesha raised a brow at the self-satisfied look on the elder's face.

"What you saw, what this young fool is experiencing, is a past that does exist within the Ether of Time, but never happened. It is the product of desire, time-line tampering, and the general flux of fate, or so my mate has explained. I will always be limited by my draconic nature, but this is your greatest weapon, Keesha. The roots are yours, and you may use them against your enemies this way. Now, be alert. I may need you to reapply them at any moment," Seth nodded as he took several steps towards the violet dragon.

"Um, isn't that called 'torture?' and your woman's fine with it?" Keesha asked with a look of surprise on her usually controlled face.

"She suggested it," Seth spoke with a loving smirk at the thought of one of his mate's little-known acts of vicious, cunning.

"Damn…I always knew I liked her for some reason…" Keesha mused as she began walking towards the half-crazed dragon.

"Filth! Stay away form me!" Pashima hissed at the human, doing her best not to slip into desperate madness as the divine roots that brought her to a euphoric existence remained out of reach.

"You're in no position to address her in such a way, child. If you cooperate, I have it in my power to return you to your dreams permanently. Just tell me what I want to know and eternal joy shall be yours. If you do not cooperate…" Seth's gaze grew fierce, but the terror-gaze that inspired his mortal surname did not come. Instead, the sand and gravel that comprised the mound Pashima was rooted to grew scalding-hot. Pashima squirmed as steam began to emanate from her underbelly. When her underbelly began to blister and screams of pain could no longer be held back, Seth returned the terribly hot soil to its normal temperature.

"Y-You horrible…"

"Choose your next words carefully, whelp," Seth paused, quelling the rising annoyance from within and returning his tone to one of control and calm, "Who is your master? How did the Twilight flight recover from obliteration?"

"I-I'll tell you nothing!"

"Is that a fact?" Seth raised a brow as Pashima felt warmth begin to form beneath her injured belly.

"T-They will come for me. They will! And when they do, they will not have been betrayed!" Pashima desperately winced as the dull heat began to irritate her blistered wounds. Seth let out a booming laugh, mouth opening far wider than his night elf jaw should have allowed.

"You expect to be rescued? Are you naïve or stupid, girl? There is no hope for you outside of those roots. You forget, you are born of my old flight: I know them far better than you, young one. I can promise you, you better hope they do not find you at all, or you shall suffer far greater at their claws than mine."

"Wh-what are you speaking of, traitor? It's a t-trick! You're trying to confuse me, you are!" Pashima let out a struggling yelp as the heat beneath her underbelly began to slowly intensify. Seth shook his head.

"The corrupted black flight and their monstrosities take no prisoners and place no value on your life, or any other for that matter. Tell me, how many of your own kin have you moved to rescue? Can't think of any can you? You best hurry and give me the information I seek and I shall personally see to it you spend the rest of your days in paradise," Seth assured.

Keesha watched as the expressions on the young violet dragon's face began to shift from anger and haughty outrage to childish fear. Seth simply stood there and patiently waited with a small smile.

"I saw what you did, you know. Those people, dragons you call your brothers and sisters? Yeah ,they TOOK that from you. I could see how happy you would have been. So why don't you just give it up and tell us what we want to know. Who knows, maybe you'll get to meet her. She might still be alive," Keesha offered. Pashima's squinting eyes darted to Keesha with a disgust-filled hiss.

"You will not address me in such a way, inseeeAAAAUUGGGH!" Pashima screeched as the ground beneath her grew red-hot. A snarling-faced Setharion could not feel the strain or sweat forming in running drops along the sides of his forehead. Keesha shook her head and grabbed Seth's arm, breaking his concentration. It was then the wave of exhaustion hit the still recovering dragon. Keesha stood at his side and steadied him as the sizzling smell of scorched flesh assaulted the High Mystic.

"You're running very low on carrot, girl. If you don't speak up I'll be more than happy to give you the stick. Last chance: who's behind all this?" Keesha calmly asked as small whimpers of pain escaped the violet female's trembling eyes.

"They-they will kill me!" Pashima gasped in pain.

"We won't LET them kill you. Just give us a name and I'll return the roots to your mind," Keesha sighed, as she willed some of the roots along Pashima's neck to soothingly stroke the injured young female. Injured, tired, and filled with longing, Pashima moved to whisper a single name. Keesha felt the dragon at her side stiffen.

"You're a terrible liar. That creature is dead," Seth bitterly laughed, terrible gaze searching for the lie in the violet dragon's eyes as a truthful shaking of her head sent his smile curving downward.

"H-He lives. He came to us from secret place. We were hiding, and he found us, brought us from ob-obscurity and into power again. He will devour you as he would all things!" Pashima shrieked as her head struck the ground with a dirty smack. Keesha's eyes went wide but the bundle of roots still rose and fell as the exhausted dragon fell into a trembling sleep. Seth motioned to the loose roots as Keesha returned them to their place in Pashima's aching mind.

"What do you think?" Keesha asked as her perceptive eyes scanned every wrinkled line on the dragon's face. Setharion gave a rare shudder.

"I cannot tell if she's lying or not…but if she's telling the truth, Titans help us all…"