Written for the prompt "Scaly" from FeatheredQuilt's first prompt set on DeviantArt.
Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco.
It's a dreary atmosphere, even for the Spiritcrest.
Sharp mountain spires reach for the stars veiled behind a distant, cloudy sky, while the lower peaks sleep in the embrace of a chilling fog. Moisture fills the air and holds to any surface the heavy rains had failed to touch, and the deep canyons below echo with the shifting of mudslides and localized flooding.
Edna cups her hands over her mouth to let her breath warm them, the hot air briefly taking form as it slips through the cracks of her fingers. Damp strands of hair cling to her round face and the midnight winds send a gust that makes her body go rigid. A pause, and she closes her eyes to release a sigh. Stupid cold.
She looks to the high wall that shields her from the hazy traces of moonlight—the neck of a reposing dragon, plated in onyx scales intermittent with the color of ruby. From her place on the back of his hand, Edna runs her fingers along one of the timeworn films that shield her brother's neck, feeling the nicks and curves of its rugged texture as droplets weave through the crevices. Heat warms her touch in time with his exhale as the trails of water fade to steam, proof of the strength of the inferno inside.
If he were still a seraph, she supposes that his deep, slow breathing could be described as "calming," but for now his slumbering shakes the mountainside and his long breaths fill the air with the heat of a bakery oven.
"...But it's okay." She keeps her voice low to avoid waking him as a small smile forms.
A shift of his body and it's like the movement of the earth. She grabs at her brother's hand for stability but the slick scale repels her, forcing her down onto her side and chafing her porcelain skin against his rough exterior.
A small grunt escapes her, and the tremors instantly stop.
She pushes herself up on her arms as she looks to Eizen, his head now held high as he seems to stare out into the empty night with a sudden vigilance.
"What is it, Brother?" Her voice is cautious, only just above a whisper, but seems to be enough to break his concentration.
He turns to watch her from the corner of his gentle eye, his breath piercing the brisk air with a smoky, sticky warmth that manages to drift over her. His words are voiceless, but she can feel their meaning all the same.
Someone's here.
She grabs her umbrella before hopping down to the moist earth with a squish, allowing Eizen to rise and stretch his wings. He turns to peer down the steep cliff and Edna follows his gaze into the abyss, straining her eyes to see the intruder of his domain.
Far beneath the heavy fog burns a dancing flame, its toxic color webbing through the mist like a poison. Her stomach churns in protest at the glow, and a heavy weight forms in her chest as a second fire catches her eye. Two, three, four—many more emerge from the haze like atmospheric ghost lights moving in organized tandem. Each one venomous, each one seeming to sap the warmth it should provide.
She looks to Eizen, but her grip on the umbrella only grows tighter. Stooped and tense, he fixates on the visitors like a predator lying in wait of its prey—the image of the portent statues of old. A spark ignites in the corners of his jaws as a thunderous growl rumbles across the Spiritcrest, heralding the storm that is to follow.
A tempest when he spreads his wings, and she almost loses her footing to the blow back as the parasol nearly rips itself from her small hands. Brother, stop! but it doesn't leave her tongue. The ground trembles and sends her to her knees, allowing the umbrella to slip from her hand and over the edge where Eizen flies.
A flash, and the canyon is bathed in volcanic hues that chase after the shadows below.