Sanasiliare Areauveçh Latitharen | F | Elf Judge | Randi, Sol, Azitello (and Aelius)

There are some people you have to deal with, and then there are those you love.

Sana gave a smile. It was what Nach used to say. She remembered that much. The memories of him, of Kur... they were hers. There was no way some third rate magician was going to take her memories from her. Especially not memories so cruel. But she did feel like she was learning things, for sure.

She was changing. Meaner. Colder. Remembering those memories... it was living them. She could feel her rage at Kur, at herself, followed by a distinct melancholy that made her walls falter, but harden all the same. She only hoped that, in this situation, they'd stay dormant. And she looked at Randi, a mild scowl on her face.

"Why, not talking to the contestants could be seen as exclusion and rebellion. We need to adapt to speaking to all candidates." At this, she gestured to Sol. "I'm merely speaking to this halfling because she needs to learn what she got into by allowing herself to bond." She narrowed her eyes. Electricity charged through her, eyes sparking and air crackling with intensity. Sana met the queen's gaze evenly. "Is there a problem?"

In her mind, it echoed like thunder.

"Is there a problem?" Kur faced Nach, a sneer contorting his face. Nach was staring back defiantly, his tiny dragon poised on his shoulder. Vici looked at it with curiosity. It was a Wind dragon; his was especially tiny, from head to tail the length of his arm and perhaps a foot or two tall. She supposed dragons that small weren't uncommon for wind, but they were far from rideable. And yet anyone could tell Nach was proud of his companion.

"Not at all, boss." Vici turned her ear back to the conversation. That was a smart move on his part, declining. Not even she knew what Kur would do in that case... and she knew more than her other siblings about him. He usually went after her for kill practice.

"Well then you've saved yourself an encounter with the Hveit Dhæmonni, well done." She saw Kur's smile. It was akin to that of a panther's: calculated. Cunning. Eerie. She shuddered. Behind his outward exterior, there was nothing. He was entirely hollow, she was sure of it. A carved out tree, messily bored into by an owl some long time ago, years forgotten and abandoned. But she wouldn't feel bad. No, not yet, not while he was breathing. She would get justice for him and those he'd done wrong, but she needed to kill him first. If only...

Sana finished the memory. She knew this line. If only I had a dragon and magic. She was seventeen when her magic came to her. That was late for many elves; most were so attuned to nature that it just came to them around the age of six or seven. But not her.

She didn't even wait for Randi's answer, powering herself through the crowds. She could hear the whispers passing by. It's her. She killed her father. Why is she a judge? Disgrace to the kindness of elves. There was nothing she could do except block it out, for now.

Needless to say, she nearly missed when she stormed right by someone holding the sun hatchling. Nearly. She whipped around, giving a seemingly very angrily disturbed expression. Wonder if I whipped him in the face with my cloak. It was just too much for her not to laugh at explicitly hurting others. "Apologies. My name is Sanasiliare Latitharen, don't bother saying good day or shaking my hand. I am a judge of the Games."

The tiny dragon in his hands seemed to be glowing. It drew energy from the sun. You are a rather cute thing. If she wasn't trying to intimidate, she might have actually asked to say hello to it herself.

That gave her a memory. A heavy memory, full of grief and pain and coldness. I know who I am.

Galladis Verael | M | Re'enalla | Wren, Orrian, Topaz, Zeb, Howl, everyone else in the tent (albeit briefly)

Perhaps he wasn't the right Dragonborn. But it wasn't his choice now, was it? They were chosen. Not picked out of a lineup. Their tests of leader qualities and magic he'd aced. Back then, he'd had less control over his magic. Back then, Wren hadn't helped me refine it. He looked down at his hands. There was black swirling around his fingertips. It coalesced into a small orb before he crushed it in his palm.

Whenever it ran through his hands on his own choice, it showed him his memories. Not that they were bad, but they made him remember his regret. He gave a slight yawn, looking at Wren with a spark in his eyes. Nighttime. Not that he'd been awake very long. Others had set up the pavilion with his plans. He was up earlier than usual though. His normal schedule was dusk to dawn.

"Ready for the night?" They were both weak from the setting sun, even if he wasn't as much. Mainly they stuck to the shade, so it hadn't been too bad.

"Dragonborn." A vaguely familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up. Another of the elven judges. "Tordi." The elf seemed to be in a predicament, hands stuck on one of the eggs. It would've been at least a little funny if he knew there was no way he could bond.

"I understand none of the judges were supposed to come in contact with the eggs, sir. It got knocked off the table and well-" Galladis stood up, looking over at Wren for a few seconds. You have to use fire, alright? Shamefully, Wren looked at him. "But Addis." He shook his head mentally at her. You have to, got it? In response, Wren nodded. She stood up beside him. "Stand still, will you? I can cloak us so that nothing will happen."

He put his hands under the egg, right after pushing away the others into corners. Wren, go ahead. He closed his eyes, using his magic to physically cloak their arms and the unhatched dragon. Wren's throat glowed. She let out a small stream of fire on and around the egg. Orrian's hands were loosed with a small pop.

The fire ceased, but his limbs were still a little slow from being close to it. "Here you are." He gave the egg back to Orrian, dropping the magic he was using. It wouldn't stick to his hands again, that he knew. The surface was warm enough to combat the icicle reaction.

On his heels, he turned to move over where Topaz- his daughter- and his apprentice were speaking. "Why, hello. I seem to be well-acquainted with both of you, and I imagine you'll want answers to the same questions." He took the chair beside them, sitting in it with a tense stature. Sighing softly, he gave a quick look to Zeb. "As soon as she hears of it, that is."

He'd be doing his job, but he didn't want to overly interfere with the others. Zeb likely wouldn't care, and Topaz would be seeking to talk to him. Better now than never.

"Zebeythrae, meet Topaz. My-" he looked around quickly, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "My daughter."

Topaz Finn-Agæca | F | 25 | Human/Fae Halfling | M: Galladis, Azo, Zebeythrae, Sol briefly

Topaz set her jaw as the Dragonborn entered into the room, trailed by his dragon. The creature promptly curled up in the back with its bonded sitting nearby. Eyes down at the creature in her lap, she made a point of not even looking in his direction under the guise of being far too interested in the baby dragon on her lap as she slid onto the floor.

The Dragonborn's apprentice. Her father's apprentice, of all people, spoke. As if they didn't already know who she was. The woman wasn't exactly subtle looking, it was no secret everyone in the crowd had seen her. She looked to be around Topaz's age, but who knew. Fae aged differently than humans. Wonder if that applies to me? An odd look crossed her face at the question of where exactly she had gotten her sword.

"I stole it," she drawled with a honeyed tone. There was a pause as she gauged the reaction of everyone in the tent. People didn't steal from the Creedans, it simply didn't happen. That's what made her lie all the funnier. After a few moments passed by, Topaz let an odd smirk cross her face before she spoke once again. "Nah, it belongs to a friend. Holdin' onto it for him."

She couldn't ignore the bright fire that practically lit up the tent, eyes widening as she sharply turned her head. How the tent itself didn't light right up like kindling was beyond her. Not to mention that the elven judge wasn't burnt to a crisp. Hell, he had looked nearly as shocked as she felt, but only for a moment and it was gone. Topaz almost envied the way he was able to pull himself together so quickly, it was not a skill she had.

The woman entering the tent with another dragonling in her arms caught her eye, determined to not have it lingering on the Dragonborn for longer than a few moments. Amadeus, was it? Probably isn't even his real name.

The last thing he had wanted was for him to practically back her into a corner with no one else but the apprentice. What was her name? Zeb or something? The fae sure loved their weird names. Then again she had been named by a Fae, so who was she to speak?

"Zebeythrae, meet Topaz. My-" No no no no he was not about to do this there of all places. Was he off his rocker? She reached into the pocket of her breeches, almost frantically searching through the coins. after scrambling to her feet Topaz nearly flinched at his words. "My daughter."

There. She pulled out a slip of paper with frayed edges. It looked as if it had been folded and unfolded thousands of times. Topaz took a step forward and shoved it into his chest. Actually looking him in the eye for the first time since they had met. He looks the same. She shoved the paper at his chest, leaving it to fall to the floor if he didn't reach to catch it. He would know what it was. Well, that was if he even cared in the first place. She spoke with a low tone so only he could hear. "Fifteen years, Dragonborn."

With those words, she scooped her little dragon and turned on her heel. "Oh, I was just reminded I need to go pick up my horse from the stables. I told them I'd be there before the end of the bonding." We're not doing this in a tent full of people. "I won't bother you further, I'm sure you're busy." Don't you dare follow me. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins at the thought of someone overhearing their conversation. Without a second thought at what her words might entail, she spoke again "Nice to meet you, by the way." Azo, we're going for a walk bud.

Hoping desperately that no one would follow, she ducked out of the tent. Where exactly she would go, Topaz wasn't quite sure yet.

Azo | Earth Dragon | Bonded to Topaz | M: Topaz, Galladis, Wren

Topaz, Chimborazo echoed.

Humming, the dragonling repeated her name. Topaz Topaz Topaz. Topaz. She was his person, and most certainly the best thing in the world, even if he hadn't seen much of it. And, of course, she also had the best name. Azo and Topaz.

He fell silent when she responded to his question, and the little creature looked down at his tiny talons, pondering for a moment. He didn't like it when she wasn't okay. It made him sad. Wings fluttering down to the ground, like weights dropped, Azo twisted his neck to stare up at her, brown eyes large. Before he could say a word, there was a flash of light in the tent.

Azo screamed.

Or, at least, it was close enough to a scream. His little mouth opened, and a sqwauking wail of terror clawed through his throat. Panicking, he scrabbled up Topaz, little claws digging in as he wound his way around her neck, gripping on for dear life.

Fire. It was not something that Azo knew - the concept of hot red flame was foreign to him, unfamiliar. Azo buried his head in her shoulder, eyes squeezing shut. She was talking, and then, all of a sudden, she was up, and Azo could feel the emotion pouring from her. He popped his little snout up, gaze swiveling to pinpoint what had upsetted her so.

That man.

Azo filed his image away into his mind, flared his ruff, and hissed at him, just as he had with that other guy Topaz had run into. Long white fangs slid from his gums in one, smooth motion.

Once again, Azo heard Topaz's voice, and immediately, his fangs retracted as he considered. On a walk - they were leaving the tent. He didn't care where he was going, so as long as it was with her, and so the dragonet relaxed against his human.

It'll be okay, he said quietly.

Sol Saanvi Dayal | F | Bonded: Amrinis | M: Orrian, Sana, Amrinis, Randi

Sol had promised herself she would stay focused on the dragon before her. If she actually had to adress any of the - what - opponents? Magic weilding idiots who could flail around through the sky by virtue of giant winged casually fire-breathing beasts? Then she may as well just get up and leave, because the mere thought was so bizarre to believe that it would be just as a valid reality if she grew fins, resurrected Xaemon, and became a fae nomad.

That would be a pretty great alternative to whatever hell Sol had dropped into. Lifting her gaze, the halfling quietly scanned the room, dark and unreadable eyes narrowed with thought.

The first sight that caught her eye, of course, was the Creeden sword she had commented on only recently. Was that why the dragonborn had approached her? Had he expected her to bond? Odd. Especially when she pointed out she wasn't of the merchant family, with a little dry humour at the end of the comment - and so if she wasn't of a particular status (although being associated with the Creeden was some sort of status in of itself), then what could the dragonborn have possibly known about her to encourage the bonding?

Luck?

Luck wasn't something Sol believed in. It never did seem to side with her if it did exist, anyway. First off, she was born, so pretty awful fate to begin with. And then she lived past the age of five, refused to die when she bashed her head on a cliff rock, and neglected to drown the last time she was tossed into a river.

How unfortunate.

There was a shift in the tent, and the massive purple-black dragon was on her feet, and the dragonborn's hands were wrapped around the egg with Orrian's. The dragon inhaled, and Sol swore quietly under her breath. Her people had supperstitions about dragons. This moment had been written in enough morbid children's fables and fairytales that the halfling could assume what was about to happen.

Right, and we're just going to ignore the very flammable tent and the very flammable people in here, mhm, so -

Before Sol could edge away further, bright flame doused the egg, somehow not singeing either elf or fae one bit. Magic, she reasoned. Magic that Sol didn't have, and likely never would, even with a dragon.

There was another flurry of activity, and Sol barely had time to blink as the young woman - the one with the mud dragon - stormed away from the dragonborn, and out of the tent. By the river, Sol's head was beginning to pound. She blinked. Once - twice. A third time. Repeat. One, two three. Then: one, two, three -

She only reached nine before a little gray creature launched itself at her face. Sol twisted out of the way, nearly choking on air, mind spinning. The claws cut deep from her shoulder and down her arm, even as the agile halfling leapt away, foot clipping a tent pole in the proccess, collapsing it inwards towards the group of humans, fae, elves, and their little dragons.

The little demonic gray lightning beast followed her as she fell back. Of course it did.

More swearing under her breath.

I have to get this little thrice-cursed possed demon out of here, by the River -

Sol knew well enough that if this little dragon stayed for a minute longer, she could wreck serious havoc. Also, there was potential for a mauling in the next few minutes, so there was no way the thing could stay. Sol hurridly darted backwards, towards the exit, mind spinning in attempt to find an answer, an escape, a way out. She clenched her fist, desperately wishing for magic.

Nothing.

Just as the creature lunged again, Sol slipped deftly to the side, and the demon went sailing through, effectively exiting the tent. At least something was going as planned. Sol kicked a chair across the enterance, and fell to her knees an ungraceful sprawl, tying the flaps shut as best she could.

She glanced back, refusing to wince at the blood pooling from her arm into her palm. It felt so exposing to stand before them, bleeding out her weakness, admitting every inferiority she had to them. Being too slow to move, with no combat training to dance gracefully through the maze of people and dragons. Being so stupid as to just sit here, stunned, out of breath. Her lack of magic, her need to resort to whatever wits she had instead of controlling the situation and detaining the scaly reptile, which would have been the intelligent thing to do.

You dumb bastard.

Standing, Sol turned up her hand to watch the red stain the bronze of her skin. She knew she had left a mess of overturned chairs and trampled rugs in her wake. She was not a graceful soldier, nor a skilled acrobat - to say in the least, the ordeal had been... messy, if not more or less a disaster.

The young woman scanned the mess, the trailed blood, as well as the sunken side of the tent she had fallen into. "Demonic lizards aren't my specialty," she muttered, eyes flicking up, burning with an adrenaline-fueled rage of carefully tucked away emotion. If anyone cared enough to look, or was smart enough to see, one might realize that Sol was terrified. Shocked, but stubbornly refusing to admit to fear.