Galladis Verael | M | Re'enalla | Topaz, Azo, Zeb, Wren

He was shoved into the healer's tent. Shoved. Not guided. Not gently pulled over to. Did that mean what he thought? That Zeb cared for him? He thought the only thing she cared about was her jokes, and now, her dragon.

"Excuse me, would you like some help?" From his point sitting down, he looked up at the speaker. The female elf was watching him, leaning in to see what was wrong. "Your neck." Touching her hand to the back of his head, he could feel the slight wound close up as it healed. "Now, do you want some candy?"

His fist connected with her face before he knew what was happening. The other two elves stood beside her, one healing her broken nose as the other glared at him. Not like the man noticed he was looking at his arm, horrified. Where had that come from? Once the woman was healed, the one who stared him down ushered him to the edge of the tent.

"Leave." Shooting him a stony look, he stormed out of the tent. He didn't even see when he nearly bowled over his apprentice. When he shook his head, he was astonished. Zeb. In a dress? It was something that, to him, showed her off beautifully. Her midsection was bare, and that gave him... musing thoughts. His eyes moved up to her face, stark white hair and violet eyes framed perfectly by what might've been a necklace.

If only he could hold her. If only he could catch her, let her know that he'd be there, he'd do anything if it meant she would be happy, that she might learn to accept him with all his mistakes and flaws. If only he could tell her that he loved her. If only it wasn't forbidden, else he'd climb onto a tavern roof and shout it to the setting sun.

He noticed how long he was staring at her and looked away.

Stop.

His thoughts... they just weren't that bold. They never had been. So why were they changing now? Did it have something to do with his burning chest? Wait. His chest. It wasn't like that normally. Think. An allergy? He had none. Wren's fire? It didn't last that long.

Think.

Poison. Someone had to have poisoned him- by touch. When had he got in contact with someone? The only one he'd gotten close enough to was... no. Topaz. He knew she didn't have poison. But her dragon did. He had a vial by his side to combat that, right? Reaching down, he managed to grasp the small bottle. Antidote.

It hit him like an earthquake. Falling to the ground, he dropped the vial and reached at his chest, trying to stop the tearing, trying to stop the feeling of his whole body being ripped apart from the inside. He could barely control his arms and legs at this point- it took all of his control to stop himself from screaming and convulsing like a madman. His limbs still trembled, chest bare and lined from his nails.

It was a long time before he could give a message.

Wren. The sound was desperate, soft, strained. But it was enough. She came skidding over, ramming into the surprisingly hard wall of the healer's tent. Worriedly, she stood over him as the wave after wave slowed down, stopping and turning into a sore burn along his entire front. He wasn't surprised- newly hatched Earth dragons had incredibly potent poison, moreso than even adults.

Weak, he got up slowly on still shaking legs. Wren gave him his wing, hoisting him on her back. She moved toward the feast tent. He noticed she was rightfully hoping he could take his place at the table. Good. She was being a leader, like him. Reaching for the antidote, he saw Topaz and her dragon.

And he slipped.

He fell off of Wren for the second time, hands stilling with the excruciating pain of motion. There was one last twitch, one last movement of his hand before his mind started to slip from consciousness. The antidote lay right by his shoulder, unmoving hands locked for trying to move it to him.

He closed his eyes.

And let himself go.

Sol Saanvi Dayal | F | Bonded: Salacia| M: Salacia, Sana, Zeb, Topaz (ind.)

For the first time, Sol felt a voice in her mind. She wanted to jerk back, shut down, anything to escape how utterly exposed she felt, but the halfling resolutely grounded herself, fixing an impassive feature on her face. Her thoughts were always her own, by the mercy of the spirits, and so as long as she remained stocic in her exterior, she really didn't have to worry about gaurding her internal emotion. But now?

Well. It was different, now, and she wasn't exactly a fan of the whole telepathy thing. Cool magical and whatever? Oh, sure. And, of course, the bonus of intrusive voices and a complete disregard of privacy! She already had plenty of intrusive thoughts, be it her mind insisting she was going to violently stab her mother, and a dragon in her head only added to the complications. She hadn't even figured out how to wall of her internal expression yet.

Right, and headfirst into the cycle of a brilliant endless pursuit of knowledge. Looking forward to it.

Having only recently recovered the mess she was inside, the words finally registered with Sol.

The dragon... called me... Halfing? A bleeding Halfing?

Feeling a laugh surge upwards, Sol turned away, composing her features.

"How perceptive," she quipped, only to flinch away from her own words. It felt... wrong, to offer any sort of cruel words to her life partner. It was nearly second nature, now, the sarcasm - to snap at others before they could do the same. "Sorry, little dragon. It's been an... eventful day. And you? What's your name?"

She found a seat at the table, near the human with the Earth hatcling. Her clothes were unimpressive and dirtied, and Sol really couldn't care else - even if Sana and Zeb, in particular, looked stunning. This was Sol, and she wouldn't be wearing any borrowed silk - this was how she was, no matter how much she, or anyone else, could hate it. And anyways, all aside from that poetic thought, she didn't have anything to change into.

Sanasiliare Areauveçh Latitharen | F | Elf Judge | Esse, Aroa, Galladis, Randi (briefly), Sol, Orrian (briefly)

Sana looked around. Food? Well, the table was covered in it. Clearly. It had everything from no-limits food for humans to vegetarian elves. Not that she was vegetarian. She ate anything that was ended humanely. Despite her upbringing, she wasn't a monster. Not even Kur could have eaten something killed horifically.

She tossed an apple to Æschylus, gesturing for him to sit down at the table. He'd certainly be... interesting company to have. "Did you plan on bonding?" Looking down at the little dragon, she noticed how she held herself against him. She seemed... shy. Their personalities matched up well.

There was a commotion by the entrance of the tent, and she looked over quickly as she saw the Dragonborn on the ground. Orrian was shouting for help? Sure. Like that would ever happen. Casually, she picked up a drink in front of her and stared into it, nearly chugging it when she finally decided to ignore whatever was going on.

She didn't have to help him. He wasn't her leader. Randi was, but she was as much a nutcase as Kur was evil. Looking over to others sitting at the table, she gave a sharp nod to the other halfling she'd seen earlier. Her clothes weren't the best, but Sana chose to ignore them and picked up a leg of pork. She watched it. It was taunting her. How dare it make her want to eat! Well if you're gonna give me that kind of sass you don't deserve to be eaten.

She hurled the pork chop across the room, and had to stifle a laugh as it hit one of the Fae guards. He looked a little mortified, then puzzled as it disintegrated into ash. Then he was poking it with his spear. Well that certainly dims the tension, eh? She looked over at Alkannis, off to one side of the table with some meat he'd managed to grab. He was just as unfazed by the whole scene as she was. That's my fowl.

The attire of the halfling she'd previously talked to caught her attention again. It needed some serious work. Well no one better than me for a clothes change. With a twitch of her hand, she changed the clothes on the halfling from trader's garb to deep, black robes, accentuated with separate lines of pale blue and blue lilac. She was trying to incorporate both the look of the halfling and her dragon- it wasn't going great, but it was something. There was another, coral pink line of color tracing around the edges, much like the gold trimming on her own clothes.

When she was done, she smirked at the sight. That halfling did not fit those kind of clothes. Though it did at least make her presentable. She waved over to her, dipping her head- half in respect, and half to hide her grin. "By the way, I don't believe I ever caught your name." She did look... familiar. There was a good chance she'd met one of her parents- Sana had been everywhere, and she may or may not have met relatives of everyone here.

She hadn't loved where that came from. Touching her hand to her eye, the wound, still raw and red, painfully throbbed against her eye. It was a miracle she still could see out of both eyes, really. Hveit didn't love her by any means. He'd always wanted her dead, but Kur forced him to keep her alive. But she didn't have him now. A flash of obsidian talons crossed her vision, blood staining the color in her eye as she tried to blink.

It had nearly brought her to purposeful tears for the second time in her life.

As she rounded the bend in the road, she pulled her horse to a stop. "Calm, Ene'kari." Patting his side, she stepped down and looked at what was in front of her. Three men were trying to... kill? a woman. Two were holding her arms and legs, while the third had a large knife and seemed to be chanting. The two men holding her down were clearly inebriated, as she could tell they were at a tavern from here.

The third raised his knife. But before he could bring it down on the woman, she bodyslammed into him and knocked him off balance. Taking his knife, she cut it clean across his midsection before throwing it at one of the other two. It hit him in the skull, knocking him to the ground. He didn't move. The final man looked at the scene and ran, shouting that he'd seen the Hveit Dhæmonni. Flattering. "Are you alright?" She dropped a hand down to the woman, helping her to her feet.

"They were coming after me... for my daughter. They know what she is. They'd call her deihnmoh. Devil. I left her at home, because she'd be better of with no mother than dead." At this, Sana cocked her head. She didn't know much about the mother daughter bond- she'd never met her own mother- but it was at least a little touching to hear the care in her voice. "Would you like me to escort you to your house?"

The woman smiled. "Thank you for saving me, an escort would be helpful. I don't know what Sol would do if I never came back."

Well then. That was unexpected. She knew she'd met a lot of people... but she had no idea she'd saved Sol's mother. It could have been anyone, yet the similarities were too much. The woman she saved looked unmistakably like the halfling- Sol- and she seemed around the right age.

She did nearly spit up her drink when she realized it though. She knew Sol. She knew Sol. She knew Sol.

Of all the things that could happen.

Strom | F | B: Topher | Storm Dragon| M: Still vibing to music (Topher and a few others)

Strom was not happy.

Strom was very not happy.

She'd underestimated the two-legged creature. She hadn't expected it to move so quickly and besides landing a blow to its head and neck, she merely clawed open the dark-haired shoulder.

When the creature ran Strom used it as a chance to use her wings and jumped.

She wasn't strong enough to fly just yet, though using her wings for momentum did give her extra airtime and height, but that creature was smarter than she thought, and before Strom knew what was happening it moved to the side and she was outside of the flappy cave.

Everything after that happened in a blur. She remembered seeing a metal dragon hatchling running out of the flappy cave after her, and then one of the two-legged creatures, which most definitely wasn't Topher. It was missing all the extra eyes.

Strom had struggled in the creature's grip, though it didn't seem to be bothered and instead handed her over to her bonded.

She didn't miss the metal dragon's growl though, and the second she heard it whipped her head around and replied with an angry screech.

Strom may have been young, but she had instincts, and those instincts told her that to survive one had to pick the weakest prey. The strong ones fought back and could wound you, even defeat you, and failing at a kill meant no food.

She felt the amusement from Topher when she was handed over to him and snorted angrily in his face just as he winced.

At first, Strom had thought it was because of her snort, that she had hurt the many-eyed creature, but then she felt a small pain in the back of her head.

Something was hurting Topher... one of his other names, the other minds that she felt in the back of her head.

Without thinking Strom had smacked Topher in the middle of the face.

Out!

Only Strom was allowed to hurt him.

He wiggled a bit trying to arrange himself in a different position, but he felt trapped. He continued to turn around, but there appeared to be no easy way out. He squiggled more, because the formerly warm, snug, comfortable safe place, was becoming frightening. He didn't know the outside world, but he was being forced to do something about it.

He could feel the connection with his partner. He was sending dread, fear, and anxiety across their bond. He began to try to peck at the shell. It was so hard, and he couldn't see any change made to the inside. The more he tried, the more tired he became, and he had to take a rest break. He kept working at it.

Finally, he cracked the shell open. He stuck his snout out, trying to detect danger. He would be exhausted, wet, and weak, once predators realized he was out of the shell. He continued to work at the outside. Accidentally, he flopped onto the table, and heaved in for air, clearing his lungs of whatever had been in them, while he was in the egg. He began to wail a little once he got his breath back.

Normally, the young dragon would be fed by the mother to build up his strength in his early moments, but Howl didn't know if the beings around him would do that. He began struggling toward the meat on a platter that was quite far away. With a singular mind, he dragged himself and rested.

Food.

During one of his resting periods, he looked around, and the sound and movements became more absorbed by his little brain. He froze.

At the top of his lungs he began to squawk and screech. His squawk was reminiscent of a small angry cockatiel, but his screech was breathy and could be compared to the sound of a windy raging storm. Where was his caretaker?

His wet mucus covered body was a delightful view for those who were dining, and he left a slime trail that could have been the result of a group of slugs and snails. It was slowly drying. He tried to stretch out his weak, thin, wet, crumpled little wings, and his mouth stayed perpetually open.

Aztiello panicked a bit after the collapsing of the den. He tried to find a place that was more peaceful, so he could enjoy time with his dragon. There was no one in there he was particularly concerned for. It had been quite the oversight. Why had they put newborns in such a flimsy contruction? He made sure that Aelius was fed. He wasn't sure what the plans were previously, but the ice dragon hadn't hatched yet, and it appeared that they were going on with the process. Had he messed up the little dragon, or had something good come of it?

He hadn't brought any particularly nice clothing with him. At the moment he was wearing brown pants, and a green tunic with a brown vest overtop. His boots were very worn in, and flexible. He was wearing pretty nondescript street clothing, trying to blend in the best he could. Would his family be invited to watch? He had no idea. He didn't want to change. He supposed wearing clothes not according to dress code could make him stand out, but then so could wearing fancy clothing.

He ended up keeping his shoes and pants, but exchanging his shirt and vest out for a light blue tunic. There was some embroidery on the cuffs, and he thought it looked good. Blue was one of his favorite colors to wear. He made sure that he was clean. He wasn't sure what he needed to do to prepare his dragon.

As he approached the feast, he felt uncomfortable, since he wasn't supposed to be here. A lot of people shouldn't have bonded, but he didn't know that. He was afraid that someone would persecute him for his decisions. He wouldn't blame them, but he would like to shrink from the possible encounter. He found a place to sit where he could watch the events unfold, and stay out of sight. "Are you hungry Aelius?"

He noticed someone, who looked sort of like a exotic human. He studied her, trying to figure it out. He never would have imagined that he would meet a halfling. Since he was hungry, he began to approach the table. Where was he supposed to sit? Was there any order? He watched the chaos with Orrian's egg ensue. He knew he couldn't help, so he stayed further back.

He tried to ignore the screeching of the newly hatched Howl. "How are you?" he asked Sol, but sort of kept it open to the group. "Dragons have definitely made life more interesting. Tent, dinner." He was used to an exciting lifestyle, but dragons could bring unwanted drama. She seemed a little distracted, and he wasn't sure if he should interrupt.