The first thing he registers isn't the thin layer of sand beneath his paws, nor the warm ocean breeze funneling into the cave. It's that he left the emptiness of his prison behind.
It's that his brother has settled on his head, next to his frill.
It's that he's free.
They came out of the portal, back into the Professor's lab.
"Quickly, Hunter," The Professor directs, and the latter follows to help disconnect the orbs from the portal.
Elora stands by, watching, and glances at the dragon.
He's crying.
It's silent; his tears don't shimmer like a fairy's (like she would have expected), but they glisten under the artificial lighting. His tail sweeps out, once, cautiously, much like Hunter's would.
It strikes her, suddenly, that she knows next to nothing about dragons except what's been presented in the lore books. Draconic seemed to bleed into something feline and serpentine, with what she can tell, and with however long he was prisoner, she doesn't have an inkling of how he'll react to things.
Questions are ready to burst forth from the top of her tongue.
Instead, she asks, "Hey, you wanna go outside?"
It takes him a second to register that the question is directed at him, she can tell. He tilts his head towards her, eyes flickering away to avoid contact. He opens his mouth. Closes it just as suddenly, then swallows and nods. Once, slowly, like he's unsure.
The dragon's probably wondering what he's expected to give in exchange for this freedom - she wouldn't be surprised if Moneybags pounded that thought into his head.
It made her sad, in more ways than one; that someone would dare treat an intelligent creature like that, and that someone would hurt such a beautiful one at that.
Elora just watched him from the corner of her eye as they left the Professor's lab. He kept shooting her glances, twitching minutely to gaze at his surroundings. She saw the surprise and curiousity edging in his eyes, at the Professor's many strange and wondrous machines.
And then they were outside.
He blinked against the startlingly warm light; after the cold artificial lights of the lab, the sun was a welcome surprise he needed to adjust to. Elora watched as he stood there, stock-still.
Then he flexes his paws, wiggling his claws into the sand. His face transformed into something wonderful - still crying but his eyes were wide and teeth showing in a grin, as he stretched his wings wide.
"The sun." His voice is such a low, hoarse whisper that she almost doesn't hear it.
She clasps her paws behind her back, leaning forward and back awkwardly. "It's nice today - sometimes it can be too bright or hot, but the Breezebuilders seemed to have fixed their fans." She's babbling, she knows - he doesn't have any idea what she's talking about, but she figures that someone should fill the void of silence.
He seems okay with it, at least.
The dragonfly buzzes, then makes a noise like a bleat.
"You're right, Sparx - it's nice."
His voice is still low, and she remembers the band that had been around his muzzle. And then she sees the thin line of red across his cheek; a still-healing scar running through the soft scales.
Her anger at Moneybags flares, and she has to tamper it down; she doesn't want to make the dragon uncomfortable.
Speaking of the dragon. . .
"I'm Elora," she says gently, rocking back and forth still. Recalling what he had said about the dragonfly earlier, she asked, "You said your brother's name is Sparx? Can I ask you what's yours?"
He looks at her with wide, clouded indigo eyes. He's confused, that much is obvious, though he tentatively shared. ". . .my name's Spyro."
Elora smiles kindly, but not falsely or flashily. "That's a nice name. It's nice to meet you, Spyro."
"Yeah, dude; name's Hunter." Elora turns, having heard his heavy footfalls before his voice - he's keeping his tone fairly low, all things considered, though retaining his joviality. "It's good to meet you." The Professor probably had a word with him before they came out. Or, the other way around, actually.
It was hard to tell sometimes who was the denser of the two. It was sorta situational.
Spyro tilted his head slightly, an odd expression on his face. That, or his more serpentine features made him hard to read.
He seemed to briefly become bold, since he ventured, "What. . .are you guys? I know the, uh, Professor is a mole, but I'm not sure 'bout you two? A pussycat and some kinda goat?"
Elora couldn't help the sharp snort that escaped her; barely even noticed as the dragon's eyes flashed and he took a small step back.
"No, I'm a Faun, you dork. And Hunter's a cheetah; it's a sort of cat." She was sure to say it non-aggressively; the goat comment just sorta caught her off-guard is all.
He eyed them skeptically, and Hunter added in a little defensively - but, also, playfully - "It's not like we've ever seen a dragon before either, y'know."
Spyro winced at that. She wondered if Hunter's tone had been too biting. "Yeah, I, uh, I'm a little small for my age."
It seemed that her worry was unfounded - though her shock certainly wasn't. "What?" She choked out. Paws out flat, palm-up as she gestured at his entirety. "You're small?"
"Yeah dude, no offense but I could, like, totally ride you like a manta ray," Hunter's own disbelief evident, "I was gonna say you're younger than I'd probably guess, but I didn't think you were small." His eyes suddenly widened. "Oh no, how big do dragons even get?"
His shrill squeak made her ears hurt, and she almost told Hunter off, but then she heard the soft, sputtered chuckles.
It seemed that that had tickled the dr- Spyro's funny bone, because he tilted his head low, laughing. "Big," he said in between breaths, "real big. Especially the Peace Keepers and Beast Makers - I'm not just small. I'm small for an Artisan."
"Are those. . .like, tribes?" Hunter asks, scratching his head. He still seems baffled by the whole size thing.
Elora is, too.
Spyro seems to withdraw again, with the attention directed on him. "Uh, Yeah, sorta. . .there's five worlds in the Dragon Realms, and they all have different features. I'm specifically a Fire Dragon from the Artisan world," he adds, voice growing so soft that Elora has to strain to hear it.
"Well, that's cool!" She decided to respond with; she tried not to change the subject, but to take the focus off of him. "I'm a Faun, probably from the Fractured Hills in the Autumn Plains. Avalar is made of three Home worlds that have connecting portals to other worlds, called the Lesser worlds."
Hunter shrugs. "Don't ask me where I'm from; I'm an orphan and I haven't met any other Cheetahs yet."
This seems to peak Spyro's interest, but before he can ask anything, the Professor comes striding out.
"Excellent news!" His voice is a little loud, so she and Hunter shoot him looks. He doesn't change composure, but does lower his voice. "I've made sure to dismantle the portal in every way I can think of - no one else is coming through at any time. Now, young dragon-"
"His name is Spyro," she cuts in.
"-as I see it, you are free to do as you please. Unfortunately, there is no portal straight back to the dragon worlds," he seems genuinely apologetic, drooping. But he snaps back up just as fast, "but! Lucky for you, I've been working on one! I've been hoping to contact the Dragon Elders to ask for their help in a matter. So if you'd like, you may stay here or anywhere else in Avalar while I try to finish this portal."
Spyro seemed overwhelmed at it all; a chance to go home, easy as that? But Elora also saw something dark, something resigned. His whole body deflated, and he nodded, once.
"Excellent!" Nothing in the Professor's tone changed, but Elora could see the concern, bright as day. "Feel free to roam wherever you please, and if you need a guide, you can ask any one of us." The Professor lowered his voice, "we want to help."
This still seemed to be a lot to take in, so he merely nodded again. The Professor took this in stride, giving an, "Okay!" and proceeded to go back into the lab to work on the portal.
It was awkwardly silent for a bit. The sun was still pretty high, and while Elora and Hunter would normally be off doing something by now, they didn't just want to abandon Spyro.
"So. . .anything you want to do?" Hunter asked meekly.
Spyro looked straight down, thinking.
". . .maybe. . .go for a swim?"