Of third eyes and second chances

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~

“Spite and Malice” It wouldn't have been hard to guess at their given powers without even bothering with the scrying spell. The blue gemmed crescent held the power of ice and water, the red rubys that of scorching fire.

He is leaping down from the tree now, walking towards the twin blades with arms and wrists turning round and round to wrap the taunt chains around his wrists. It would have been a hard thing to do if he had been wearing his rings and bangles. He was smug as he grabbed the leather bound handles, blue in his left and red in his right and wretched them free of the earth effortlessly.

They hummed to life at his touch. Spite became frigid, tendrils of chilled air rising off of the steel while Malice was turning bright hot, like a poker thrust into coals. He backs away from Drache, not wanting to to let Spite harm her.

[Drache]

Drache nodded as it became clear what powers the two blades where enchanted with, as though she should have known all along. She edged back from the blades, especially Spite, prudently avoiding the ice magic. Her snout twisted in a grimace and her torso hunched ever so slightly, one hand coming up to clench against her stomach.

Trying to remain casual, she watched the fae lift the weapons, wondering if he was about to do some showing off. She really had meant it when she said she wanted to simply converse, but a display of shinies was a good enough distraction for now.

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~


The flinch and grasp of her slightly rounded abdomen was missed as he had already turned and started to walk away. He walks a fair distance away, humming to himself as he steps toe to heel. His great wings relax and lie flat against his back and away from danger. He stands tall and straight, blind eyes staring up at the sky. He extends both of his arms wide and lets the chains slip from his grasp, blades falling from his grasp only to jerk and sway as he snaps the chains up suddenly, holding them firmly between thumb and forefinger. The weight of the blades are perfectly balanced with each other and they swing like pendulums, barely hissing above the blades of grass.

He is perfectly still, staring up and up, humming a low, throbbing sound before he suddenly comes to life again. With precise rhythm, the twin blades begin to sway round and round with just a simple flick of dainty wrists. They arc great blue and orange circles trailing vapor and flame in their wake. His right hand, the one holding the flaming Malice, breaks left so that his wrists come together and both hands begin to circle before him left than right, side to side. The blades are dancing together now, water and ice meeting with the heat to sputter and hiss great trails of steam through the air. A looping blur of a figure eight spirals around his body.

While the steel dances with unbelievable speed, the core of his body moves achingly slow, torso bending forward and wings beginning to spread out wide again. Another twist, steady rolling of wrists and arms change the trajectory of whirling steel so that they fly over his head and then swipe down just inches above the ground. He leaps off the grass as the chains and blades whistle under him. With the blades now rotating perpendicular to the ground, he is able to loosen the chains, extending the reach of Spite and Malice in greater, ever expanding loops that slice through the air independent of the other now. The grass and moss are simultaneously charred and frozen beneath him.

The golden paint on his body shimmers and reflects the blaze of light coming from both the high sun and Malice. With each dip and turn, his wings open and close, missing each potentially maiming slice. The whole display is a feat of agility that is both dazzling and disorientating. The precise flow of his movements bring the circles into tighter circles, chains wrapping back around his wrists until they are bound together.

With one last flourish he leaps through the air , turning round to face her with both blades thundering into the ground where they burst into soil and grass, ice and fire both extinguishing at once. His wings are stretched to their very limits, spread wide like the tail of a jeweled peacock. See? He can do just as much with his body as he can with his mind!

[Drache]

The half-dragon watched the display with great interest, having never seen weapons quite like this before. The closest she was used to were the more typical flails and nets, which didn't come close to matching the fluid grace of the pendulum blades wielded by the fae. Drache would never attempt to use such a pair of chained blades. The way she flew that much different from Zilliah's many pairs of fluttering insect wings and it would only serve to get her tangled up.

The combination of ice and fire was also a reasonably alien concept to her. In the place where she had come, a person who could wield both only did so at a considerable loss of strength, never able to attain the truly epic control of those who were strictly aligned to one element or another. The pain in her belly eased, though her grasp there lingered while she watched Zilliah dance with his blades. The dual charring and flash freezing caused by the twin weapons was singing to her babe.

Distinctly impressed, she settled back down on the ground again much the same way she had been before, wings curled in a leathery screen around her body. When he was finished, she issued a trilling croon of approval. "Zilliah, that was amazing! I could never do anything like that."

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~

Slack is given to chains and they unwind from his arms and hands. Silver metal now streaked with golden flake slips away from him and he abandons his crescent blades, walking back to Drache with a content smile on his face. He clenches and flexes his fingers, knuckles cracking.

He closes his eyes and runs his palms across his cheeks to gather more of the now damp dust, coating his digits in it once again. He stops before Drache and falls to his knees with a dramatic sigh of exhaustion. He flops forward on the grass, arms splayed wide. His wings flutter and spasm over his prone form before drooping down over his face and arms. He is laughing at himself, mirth muffled by hair loosened from his braid, locks of it hiding his face from her.

[Drache]

A rumbling chuckle met Zill's over-exaggerated flump and the half-drake relaxed enough to settled onto her side, lounging not unlike a sort of scaled lion, her tail curling up and flopping back. The wariness of being in the den of another magical being was fading quickly and she smiled keenly at the giggling fae. Oh how nice it was to be amongst those who were becoming friends?

"I'm not very good with weapons," she admitted. "Most are too difficult for me to wield or not worth it when I can jussst use those I was born with. The only one I am really good with is my tail-barb, but it's not all that pretty to sssee."

She was considering if there was anything she could show him in reply to his fantastic display, but a considerable lack of self-confidence when it came to showing off got in the way.

She reached over to tenderly pull a lock of his hair away from his face with a black claw, fascinated by how long and fine it was. Her own hair was coarse and unruly, and she found it impossibly to do anything with it. The few times she showed up with it styled in any fashion was usually when Kira managed to pin her down long enough to tame it, but the mercenary was even more unladylike than Drache herself so it was a case of the blind leading the blind. If only she knew how to operate a set of combs or hairsticks without help. She had plenty of really nice ones that she never wore.

"You should come and sssee my lair sssometime."

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~

The fae absolutely loved to have his hair played with and he held perfectly still to let her mess with it. The silken cord that he had tied it off with has come undone and it barely clings to the tips of the braid. The wild spinning and careening had sent a good deal of it whipping right out of it. He hadn't plaited it very tightly to begin with. He had been intending an afternoon of complete stillness and meditation after all. The carefully applied gold on his face and body had been properly ruined as well and a good deal of it had found its way to other parts of his pale flesh.

He considered her offer, his lips twitching as he tried to hold back his very first thought on the matter. Of course he would come off as sounding naïve but he said it anyway. She wanted to talk, didn't she? “Do you have mushrooms in it? I've always pictured dragon caves as having lots of mushrooms. I love them but he won't let them grow around here.” He lifts his wings enough to expose a hand pointing over at his willow tree, his nose wrinkled in agitation.

[Drache]

His hair parted around her curving claws as easily, but more prettily than water, and didn't leave her grimacing afterwards. She was ever mindful of her claws and came tantalizingly close to touching his flesh, but never actually did.

After a few moments she withdrew her hand and laid back, her wings spreading out on either side of her as she looked up into the sky. It was a remarkable sign of trust to stretch out near him in such a vulnerable position.

The question wasn't what she may have expected, but she didn't seem bothered by it at all.

"Oh yesss. Not the main chambers because I keep it too dry, but many of the sssmaller ones have mushrooms. I leave them alone usually. There is one placcce full of mushrooms that glow in the darknessss. Sssome of them are ssso big I can walk on them."

She glanced over at the immense willow. "He has thoughtsss." It wasn't so much a question as an affirmation of something she had suspected. "Is he an Awakened tree?"

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~

He seems satisfied with her response, even a little excited at the idea of glowing mushrooms in the dark depths. Mushroom hunting was one of his favorite past times during his periods of seclusion. He'd creep about in the forest, whispering to them to show themselves. They weren't like flowers who called out to him, begging for him to notice them. Mushrooms were timid and cautious. You had to be sly to get them to expose themselves and even more cunning to coax them into letting you know if they were poisonous or not. Maybe glowing fungi in caves were more like flowers?

Just as he was beginning to get caught up in his own inner musing she would be speaking of his willow and he lifts a brow. Had he ever heard someone use the term Awakened before? His brows knit in confusion and he looks over at her. “What do you mean by Awakened? He isn't sleeping right now... wait do you mean to ask if he is self aware? Most living things are you know, most beings just don't know how to talk to them. But if you mean is he intelligent and able to control his...well, his form? Yes he can do that. Not very many trees and plants are capable like that. He is older than I am, though, and has always been this way since we have been together.”

[Drache]

As a half-dragon, Drache didn't have much use for mushrooms. But as a mage they did often factor into the magic-craft she got up to in her underground workshop. Many had magical properties, though she had to rely on finding them by spells or more traditional methods rather than speaking to them like the fae could.

It was a secret in itself why this particular dragonkin maintained a healthy respect, even a love for natural things. Not many people were familiar with the way fire dragons marked their territory and established authority over their neighbors, scorching the earth, leaving smoking trenches in the middle of old-growth forests, creating fires that continued to burn unquenchable for decades. No one had even given her credit at how her own markings were much more subtle and respectable even by the standards of fae. It was something Zill may come to realize as he got to know her better.

Her snout wrinkled slightly as she tried to explain. "Awakened. A Druid explained it to me onccce. Unlike normal plantsss, who may have their own awarenesss even though I can't sssenssse it myssself, an Awakened tree has thoughtsss more like a perssson. Sssentient thoughtsss. Tree guardians can cassst the magic. On animals too. But I sssuppose it can happen other ways. I met a Treant onccce too, but it actually moved around the foressst."

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~

There was hesitation to tell her all the secrets of his companion, but it was a fleeting caution. “Yes, he is like that. And he can move as well. This isn't our first grove, or our second, though we've been here for long time by most mortal standards. When it's time to go he uproots himself, you see.” Even a completely mundane willow tree could put a strain on the environment it inhabited. The low hanging boughs would soak up all the sunlight, denying any plants that try to take root around it any energy. Their massive bodies leeched water from the soil so much so that only the most hearty could survive without direct access to a decent water source.

Without the efforts the fae put into cultivating the thriving forest around him, the ent would never have been able to stay rooted here for as long as it has. He put up with the way Zilliah crawled inside him and took up residence. They both depended on each other. If this meant no mushrooms or fancy fungus for nearly a half mile round, then he could accept that price. And the willow would accept a dragon's presence in return.

“He doesn't like being called a treant though...” Just like Zilliah detested being called a fairy. But he never told anyone that.

[Drache]

The dragoness looked up at the willow with a thoughtful expression, upside-down from her position on her back. The idea of her lair being a living thing with thoughts of its own was very alien to her. It was bad enough that some of her hoard moved around of its own accord. "I sssee. I shall refrain from doing ssso then."

"Why did you run away the night I opened my mind for you?" Her tone was casual but as her eyes turned to face him it was clear it had been bothering her.

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~

“It was unexpected and I was not in the right state of mind for such a thing. You frightened me.” He was rather frank about it, but he had thought it was obvious at the time. He doesn't apologize for it, however. If he started doing that for every little slight he made against her, he'd be forever trying to explain his actions. She would just have to come to accept the way he was a slave to his own whims and emotions, even at times when the cruel ones arose. He thought back to the last time she questioned him so, when she was upset that he hadn't continued to fly with her when he had been a similar ball of fear and excitement. He sits up and points to the sky with a smile. “Do you want to fly with me?”

[Drache]

The half-drake nodded, realizing that she wasn't going to get a more detailed explanation than that. She wasn't looking for an apology, however, just trying to understand him better in the hopes that there would come a time when she didn't -have- to ask.

At his point and suggestion, she rolled over slowly, one scaled eyebrow raised with apparent distaste. She drew her legs up underneath her in a crouch, staring. And then her lips pulled back in a grin as she launched herself right over his head, her resplendent wings opening with a crimson and gold flurry. Cruel talons struck the ground once and then she was airborne, powering herself skyward, prudently avoiding the huge willow.

A sound that few people heard issued from her maw, something more like a hunting horn than a beastly call.

[Pantha]

~~~~~ Zilliah ~~~~~

So it is his turn to give chase is it? He takes to his feet, bounding up into the sky after her. Below them the great tree shudders and begins to move. It leans and stretches out with snaking whips that barely manage to reach out to grasp at the silver chains of Spite and Malice. It pulls them free of the soil and drags them back into the shadows and up into it's hidden boughs where they had been previously stored. He follows after her, wings beating furiously to try and keep up though it's mostly just for show. There is a moment where he feels apprehensive about leaving his glen and he looks over his shoulder and down to it. Apprehension gives way to relief and he calls out after her in an awful rendition of her own trumpeting call.