Dragon Warz IC Thread

Make sure you read the OOC Thread or this won't make sense!

---

Hotaru scratched at the dry patch by his nose, scraping away some of the cracked and peeling skin. He took a sip from his canteen and then rewound his scarf about his head and face, pulling down the goggles against the howling snow and licking dry, chapped lips. Gathering up his crystal spear and hefty pack, he struggled out of his little overhang and back out into the storm.

Chione, the ancient dragon queen of winter, laired somewhere in these frigid mountains and Hotaru hunted her. He knew that she would be curled away, warm and snug and content, during the blizzard, but would take to the skies again once the weather cleared. If he didn't want to chase her yet again across the southern wastes, then he must get to her while the storm still raged. He slogged on through the deepening drifts, following the elusive dragon trace doggedly, letting his inner senses lead him while his eyes judged only the safest way of travel. The gloom did not bother him, for his eyes could pierce the darkness, a trait he'd had cause to be thankful for many times before.

Hotaru, my servant.

He dropped instantly to his knees in the biting cold. "My Lord," he rasped.

You have not yet accomplished the task which I have set.

"No, my Lord, but the dragon-queen is almost within my grasp."

The dark presence within his head shifted restlessly, causing Hotaru to wince in pain. You delay.

"No! My Lord, never! I am your most humble and devoted servant, always."

Your groveling amuses me. Very well. Kill the dragon and return with all due haste.

"Yes my Lord, thank you, my Lord! So shall it be."

When the god's touch lifted, Hotaru struggled back to his feet and pressed on, anxious now. Xiuhcoatl, God of Destruction, was not a patient diety. The next time he came back to inquire on Hotaru's presence, he must be finished with Chione, or face his god's wrath. He didn't know when he'd feel his master again, it could be tomorrow, or two weeks from now, but Hotaru didn't want to chance that it would be sooner rather than later and picked up his pace, shouldering through the drifts. Chione was close, he could feel her. The feel of each dragon he'd hunted was different. This one, the powerful and old cold dragon felt like the almost-numb painful tinge of frostbite.

He stumbled into her cave by accident. He took a step forward and what he'd taken for solid stone beneath the snow crumbled beneath him, dumping him in a shivering heap on the dragon's doorstep. Concealed by ice crystals and snow, the cave faced into the mountains. Hotaru might have searched these crevices for hours and never found the dragon. Now he dragged himself inside beyond the drifts and readied himself for battle.

First he unwound his cloak, shook off the snow, and rolled it back up inside his pack. He pulled out and donned his armor, shivering, and picked up sword, shield, and spear before setting off deeper into the cave.

The dragon slept; he could hear her soft snoring and he made his way cautiously to avoid arousing her. Chione was old and cunning. If he did not have surprise on his side he might never get a second strike. One blast from her and he would join the countless others as a frozen, forgotten ice-sculpture forever lost within these gods-forsaken mountains.

Then the cave started to dip down and Hotaru went even slower. His eyes detected a great opening before him, the bulk of the sleeping dragon just barely visible. He crept to the edge of the stony ramp and looked down. The dragon snored upon what must be an equally ancient bed of treasure and satisfaction stirred in Hotaru's breast. He had at last tracked the mighty queen to her home lair! He grinned and studied the layout for the best angle of attack.

"Akuji!" he whispered, true-naming the spear. The crystal tip glowed, humming with hunger to Hotaru's keen ears. The cold metal of the shaft warmed to his touch. One mortal blow with this dragons-bane weapon and Chione would be no more.

Grabbing the spear in both hands, Hotaru leaped over the edge, holding the spear down and angled, aiming for a tender spot right behind the dragon's forelegs. With enough force, the spear would go straight for the heart, a quick death.

WHAM!

Intercepted mid-fall, the dragon's wing slammed Hotaru sideways across the cavern and into the wall on the far side. He felt a second's worth of anger that the dragon had so managed to trick him into believing she was asleep, and then he hit the wall and tumbled down into a painful heap of armor. He lay there, dazed for a minute, but the dragon did not strike again. The spear hissed angrily as he heaved himself to his feet and shifted his shield to his arm.

"Why do you not strike, foul demon?" he demanded, facing the dragon squarely.

"You are The Dragonslayer!"

Inside his helmet, Hotaru smiled. "Let us battle," he said, "and end this chase forevermore!"

"I will not fight you," replied Chione.

Hotaru's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Then you shall die."

"Very well," was the dragon's surprising response.

Hotaru lowered the spear a little. "You will not resist?"

"No," rumbled the dragon sadly. "We all know that when the Dragonslayer catches us, we look at death. I am old and weary and do not desire to drag out my suffering. To you I may still die with honor."

Hotaru couldn't make out if that was a carefully-worded insult or a compliment. He stared at the dragon in silence. After a long moment, he transferred the still-singing spear to his shield hand and worked off the ties for his helmet, to look the dragon fully in the face. He was not prepared for her sudden intake of breath.

"You? You are the Dragonslayer?"

"Yes," replied Hotaru, frowning.

"Then this world is truly doomed," keened the dragon. She lifted her great head, laying bare her breast. "Quickly! Strike! Let me be at peace."

Hotaru hesitated. "What ... possible difference does it make who I am?" he demanded, dropping the helmet and grasping the spear.

She peered down at him with one eye. "Surely you jest."

"You try my patience, dragon!" snapped Hotaru. "Do you know me? From some other life, perhaps?"

"No," said the dragon. "I have not laid eyes upon you before, but I know your kind. That is all."

Hotaru shook his head. "My kind? Perhaps you grow senile after all these millennia, Chione!"

She flinched.

"Yes, I know your name, you cold-lizard, and you shall submit to me."

"Then do it, Dragonslayer!" wailed the dragon. "I have no wish to witness the world's destruction!"

With all his considerable strength, Hotaru threw the spear. The dragon fell instantly, but he did not feel like celebrating. He felt only cold and tired and dispirited. Slowly, he retrieved the humming weapon and true-named it back to silence. He filled a small sack at his waist with jems and coins, retrieved his helmet, and cut some scales from the dragon's side to later work into his dragon-hide armor.

With one last look back, he began the long trek back. The capitol, Valence, was several weeks' travel away and he had no time to delay. But first he had to get back out of these thrice-cursed mountains. His horse awaited him in Falls Creek, a tiny town at the base of the mountains. With the storm, he'd be lucky to get there before his food ran out.

Hotaru sighed and equipped himself again before daring the blizzard once more

---

AN: Now, for heaven's sake, our posts are not going to be this long! (probably, *wink*) I merely wanted to set the scene and tone. For sure, once we get our chars interacting, we definitely can't write this much, so please forgive me, and don't have a heart-attack, k?

"Lord Oceanwalker."

Dark violet eyes raised slowly from the pool he was gazing into. Long swathes of dark blue fabric wound around his form, his figure easily visible through the thin fabric. Thick gold jewelry adorned his form, a collar at his throat that lay flat against his chest and over his shoulders, a snake armband with sapphire eyes, bracelets, anklets, and kohl around his eyes made him look even more imposing. The Ocean lord had a fondness of shiny things and it wasn't subtle. "Yes?" He asked the elf that had come to him, his slanted eyes, and lovely face structure of this one held significant appeal to the dragon, and it was no secret that men, especially the most handsome of men, had special favor to the dragon lord. He was impartial in decision making, when they came to him for help, or to settle a dispute, but when asking for a favor, it was best to send the more pretty elves.

"I have a favor to ask..."

That was all he heard before there was a quiet chime in his mind. He frowned, it was not unheard of for this to happen, but it had happened rarely in his long life. He held up a hand to stop the elf, "Shhh..." He murmured.

"Kagarithorn. I desire thy services. Find whom I seek. I will guide thee." And the chiming faded.

He growled faintly, that was irritating. Pushed around like a little toadie, though he respected the god that gave him life, and he said a quiet prayer in thanks as he began to shed his clothing, "Ellas, I will address your favor when I return, a higher power has requested my assistance and I must do as my god requests of me." He said softly, his clothing falling away as he pulled off his jewelry, until only the circlet on his forehead remained and the bands around his horns. He walked off then, outside of the massive receiving room and leaving his palace, the elves that saw him giving him a wide berth before following behind excitedly. The only reason he walked around naked was when he was going to change, and that was always an event around here. He stepped outside, into the large centre that had been built for just this purpose, his people had been kind to him, he thought as his body rippled with the change, things that had been close, now were far away, things far away were now close, and his array of colors had multiplied, expanding into the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums. He snorted, steam surging from his nostrils as he shook out his fur, his gaze moving to the elves that had gathered around to look. He shuffled his wings, looking up, his magic would hold here for a few days, while he went in search of the errant halfling. He shoved off, his rear claws digging into the rough stone floor and slipping through the dome of his magic that kept the water out of the city. Immediately the pressure of the water pressed on him and he relished in it, his body working already to balance him out and allow him to breathe as he paddled through the chill water, before he went up and up and he burst through the surface, his wings beating the air heavily as he took a breath of straight air, filling his body with it as he took flight, winging his way to the frozen north.

It took hours to get there, speeding through the air, his ears flat against his head as he flew, drying quickly as he burst into snow country. It was chilly here and he had to shake the snow off every couple of miles to keep it from weighing him down. He took a breath, there was death here in the mountains. He flicked his ears nervously as he set down in a snow drift, sinking in up to his chest. He snorted, shoving his way through the snow, pulling his wings in tight, using his steamy breath to help him on his way. He picked up a faint scent trail not too far from where he felt the death of one of his kin. He ignored it for a moment, in favor of finding the dragon that had been killed, murdered, nothing could kill a dragon. Nothing save a Slayer. He growled, his tail moving behind him angrily as he moved to the dragon that lay, dead, on her side. He had not known her, though they were territory neighbors, but he mourned her with a low warbling call, his horns scraping the top of the cave as he licked her cheek, nuzzling her a bit before he backed away, leaving the cave and bellowing, screaming, shaking the mountain with his calls until the cave collapsed inward, burying her and hiding her away from the world.

Now to find the halfling. The chimes in his mind came again, a warning this time, and he snorted in acknowledgement, turning to plough through the snow again, there was a trail in the snow, snow that remembered footprints and spoke to him as he followed them to a bundle of joy wrapped in fun. He growled, digging out the halfling creature and clutching it in his claws, popping the bundle in his mouth, just small enough to fit as he took flight, water for the most part filled his mouth, though there was the smell of saliva and various enzymes, but they were kept at bay. He carried the human-thing back home, though he would likely wake up on the way, it did take time to get from point A to point B, fortunately, he'd had the presence of mind to strip him of his weapons and now carried them in one clawed hand.

He did a loop and dove into the water headfirst, now that they'd arrived to warmer territory, he paddled through the water, playing about a bit, putting on a show for the elves that went to the edges of their city to watch, the pale lavender of his underbelly rippling with colors as he moved through the water before he returned to the top and dropped down with a heavy thud, his enormous bulk making the area around him shiver as he landed. Promptly he spat the human thing out, probably suffering from some manner of hypothermia, or frostbite, or something cold that was a problem. He shook the water out of his scales and fur before he changed, "Take him to my quarters." He said simply, "And start healing him." He ordered and several elves stepped forward quickly to take the man, "If he causes trouble hit him over the head." He called after them and started walking back home, "Ellas, I will answer your request now." He said and the aforementioned elf hurried forward to talk to the dragon lord.

<<Hotaru>>

The first thing Hotaru became aware of was a pleasant, spicy smell, and then muffled childish laughter. He blinked, seeing sunlight upon a finely-burnished stone floor, and a cat resting there in the open doorway. It turned, as if sensing his gaze, rose, and stretched before sauntering outside. Hotaru rolled over onto his back, pushing weakly at the blankets covering him, then paused as he realized that the blankets were all that covered him. He looked up then, staring into the unfamiliar eaves of a high, domed ceiling, likewise made of stone, and decorated with blue and green tiles.

His nose twitched and his stomach grumbled. Hotaru grimaced, for his stomach was not all that was stirring. He turned over again, pushing himself up on an elbow to look around.

The light in the room came from the open door and windows. He started as something swam up to the window, paused, and then swam on. Water! He looked around again. The chamber walls were sleek and polished, the colors reminding him of water in a bowl.

He frowned. Where was he that his hosts could have so much magical power to make it appear they were living underwater?

A shadow crossed to the door and entered. Hotaru blinked, staring. Here was a woman of some indeterminate age, her face smooth and only slightly creased. She wore a plain but striking gown of blue fabric, sturdy shoes, and an apron. Her hair was pulled back into a practical braid down her back. Her eyes, when they fastened on him, were a light blue. She had a pleasant face, made more so when she smiled, with thick lips, a firm chin, and a petite nose.

And pointed ears. Elves!

He fumbled for and tossed the duvet aside, springing to his feet only to collapse upon the cool floor, closing his eyes against sudden dizziness. Her hand closed on his arm and he jerked away, losing his grip on the bed and slipping further.

"Hush, now, my Lord. You are safe here in Murwell."

The more Hotaru struggled, the more the room spun until he'd exhausted his strength and slumped fully to the floor. "You're Elves!" he whispered in horror. Murwell? Wasn't that the City Beneath the Waves? Didn't they have some kind of dragon protector? His muddled head couldn't concentrate on the distances, but it was far away from Chione's territory.

She laughed, a sound even more charming than her smile, and with no malice. She set down her bundle and came to kneel next to him, pressing the back of her hand to his face and forehead.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Warm," Hotaru replied nervously, opening his eyes a crack. "A little weak."

She nodded. "You've been sick for several days, but you're on the mend now. Think you can manage something to eat?"

Hotaru turned over her words in his mind. Several days? He had dim recollections, strange dreams, half-understood conversations. The heat in his chest seemed dissipated now. He lifted a hand to stare at the blackened fingers in dismay.

"You didn't lose any," said the woman softly, easily following his train of thought. "Although you will probably be a long time recovering the full feeling, if at all."

"I ... I am lucky, then," said Hotaru, looking back at his benefactor, away from his hand. "Frostbite is a potent foe."

"Indeed," she smiled. "Do not strain yourself, we do not want that cough to return. Now," she patted his shoulder briskly. "You settle back in bed whilest I have food and a privy pot brought. I will inform the master that you are awake."

He nodded. "Er, thank you."

"One moment." Rising, she left him lying on the floor and called for some servants to help him back into bed.

Hotaru didn't have the energy to be embarrassed that he needed assistance to relieve himself, and he only managed a few bites before the spoon became too heavy to lift. Despite his nerves, he soon after nodded off, wondering, Who is the Master of this place? Does he know who I am? What is to become of me? His head remained thankfully empty, but he couldn't help the frown which pulled at his mouth in fitful sleep.

He watched the halfling for many nights (lost some sleep to him as well because of that blasted cough) and now he was was swimming, outside of the city. He swept past the see-through walls, bubbles streaming from his nose, as his wings streaked through the water, moving up past the domes, spotting a female elf waving to him as he swept over the tops of the cities, and returned to the inside of the city, curling a short cloth around his waist, letting it dangle at his side. He wrung out his hair as the elf spoke to him. "I will see him." He said and let the woman lead him. He came into the room, the other had fallen back asleep again.

Stepping into the room, he moved to his bed, the smell of sickness still hung in the air, and he tilted his head slightly, "Emma, send a messenger to the Crystal Dragon of the South." He said, "I wish him to come to our humble city." he said, "It's a matter of grave importance." He murmured to her as he sat down at the bed. He pulled out the halfling's hand, it had been a close call for his fingers. Lucky man. Very lucky. He ran a hand over a horn, watching the human crossbreed, "Hm." He said to himself, looking up, "Now what?" He muttered, though he wasn't sure the god would answer him.

He stayed there, and stayed there, moving around the room and looking at the things, he'd had the man's weapons put up in the treasury, his belongings (that wasn't the dragon scale armor) put next to his bed, the armor he took for himself, a macabre and unpleasant indication of what the other really was and who he had suspected the other to be. Not to mention the patch of scales he'd found in the other's belongings that once was part of the white dragon's hide. He sighed, patience, Thorn, patience. All will be revealed by his god. All will be revealed. He sat at the foot of the other's bed once more, watching out the windows, the fish swimming past, and the sharks, and everything else, so interested in him, before they swam past.

<<Hotaru>>

Beneath the ragged, scaly rash that covered large, seemingly random patches of his anatomy, Hotaru's features were a cross between Human and Elf. He was more solidly built than an Elf, but still slim by Human standards. His face was broader and rougher than that of the Fair Folk, but still narrower and more delicate than the usual Human male, but still definitely male rather than androgynous. He even grew facial hair. In patches and very slow, but he had always relished the necessity of shaving.

His ears were not as long or pointed as an Elf's, more like a human's with slight points, but they were more sensitive than either race. His eyes could see in gloom or darkness, and his nose was like that of a dog's. He rarely said anything about those traits, because they set him apart from other Half-Elves and made him feel awkward, and that was before he'd become known only as the Dragonslayer.

But his human senses were nothing to his dragon-sense. Depending on the age of the dragon, he could sense the creature from miles away. He could not participate in his master's rituals, because the sacrifices made him ill; he couldn't go anywhere near the altar.

So when he woke from disturbing dreams of rain and foggy memories of a few times he'd almost drowned, he knew instantly that there was a dragon present. His hands twitched for his weapons, always nearby, and the lack of their feel against his fingers woke him completely.

"Dragon," he rasped, opening eyes in a head that felt like it weighed nothing at all. His hands clutched at the blankets feebly; there was no strength in his body.

The tusked, horned creature sitting just within Hotaru's view was not familiar to him. They gazed at each other dispassionately.

The dragon held a glass to Hotaru's lips, but he struck away the offer. "I'll take nothing from you!" The feeling of drowning intensified and Hotaru pushed against it weakly, wheezing for breath, his chest burning, lungs aching from cold and pressure.

"Why am I still alive?"

"We took you in, Dragonslayer."

"No," said Hotaru, shaking his head. "This cannot be."

"Can't it?" hissed the dragon, mocking him, of this Hotaru was certain.

"No! No, I don't believe it!" Blue dragons, for this was certainly a water dragon, would not help him. He should be dead. "Why would you do this? Why?"

Because I asked.

Hotaru jumped, looking around. The great voice did not come from his own head where his master spoke, but out beyond him, into the room, as if from an invisible presence.

He heard a soft, annoyed sigh from the dragon, but he remained silent, leaving Hotaru to demand answers: "What am I to you? I am your enemy! Why would you help me?"

I desire thy services.

Hotaru was startled enough to laugh. "Madness!" he exclaimed, one hand leaving the blanket he gripped so tightly, to touch his head. He said, quieter, "I am going mad."

The voice boomed with laughter of its own. Nay, Dragonslayer. Thou art quite sane. I claim thee as mine own, for a spate of time as equal to thy life, or until I shouldst set thee free.

His eyes filled with alarm. "My life is not mine to give."

True, the voice replied, sounding amused. But that is all that is of value to me. Service shall I have in return for thy life. Thus shall thee begin to repay thy debt to me and mine.

The water dragon still sat beside him and Hotaru felt a furious, frustrated anger building; he was still not fully recovered, and even if he were, he could not take on a full-grown, healthy dragon unarmed ... but the thought still crossed his mind.

"Who are you? That you can demand this of me?" He glared at the dragon.

The great voice rumbled again in laughter. Thou mayest call me Tezcacoatl.

Hotaru gasped. Tezcacoatl. The Lord of Dragons was mortal enemy to the Master of Destruction, Lord of War that Hotaru served. When the paths of dragons and mortals had diverged in the Dragonwar, the two gods had stood on opposite ends of the fray, their followers likewise choosing sides, to destroy, or to protect.

Hotaru blindly fumbled to escape the confines of the bed, knowing it was hopeless, but still driven to escape. "No! This is impossible!" He toppled out of the bed, heedless of the cold floor. The dragon made no move to stop him.

Thee has sheltered with me, taken food, the Dragonlord reminded him. My servants have tended thy ills. By our laws are thee bound to serve me.

All, that Hotaru knew and he needed no proof of gods after a lifetime's dedication to Xiuhcoatl. That one should seek to claim him away from his master was madness. Madness!

"I -- I beg exception." That, according to dragonlore, was his right, to ask, though not necessarily to be granted. "My life belongs to -- to another. You ask me to break my oath. Should I do this, my very soul will be cursed, my life, forfeit --"

And what else shall be thy due for all the suffering thou hast inflicted upon my people? thundered the Dragonlord. There will be no exception. Of thy free will have thee served mine enemy. Now thee shall serve me.

Then did Hotaru curse, foully and tearfully, shivering in the cold he did not feel, except in his heart.

Make the oath, demanded the Dragonlord.

Hotaru closed his eyes briefly. His pride would not let him beg. He sank down in a low bow, forehead touching the ground in obeisance, and, as he had been taught, he spoke the ritual words binding himself to a master. The words were simple, but all the more powerful for being so. He felt weak, broken, lost, and afraid, but he kept his voice steady, his pride enough for that.

On thy honor, Dragonslayer, intoned the Dragonlord then when he was done.

Honor, thought Hotaru in despair. For honor shall I be tormented to the last of my days.

This oath would bind him until what service he had been set was paid in full; in this case, for the rest of his life, more like as not. By dragonlore, no other law did he now serve; he had only to follow orders. His master could ask anything of him and that he must do, no matter that he lift blade to homeland or kin or former allies; such were the legends of dragon fealty, for the sole crime of falling in debt to dragonkind. Such did Hotaru know in intimate detail, warned through and through by the warpriests, but never considering that he should fall prey to such things. He met dragons, yes, battled them, killed them; he did not first pause to share a cup of tea.

"And how shall you command me, o' Lord of Dragons?"

The Dragonlord, for a wonder, ignored that mocking tone. For now it is enough that thy shouldst rest and regain thy health. Kagarithorn shall hold thy oath til such time as I shall instruct thee further.

"As you command." More bitter words Hotaru had never uttered.

Then get off the damned ground. I have no patience for such foolishness.

Hotaru had to be assisted back into bed where he shivered and scratched idly at a long strip of scaly, crusted skin on his forearm. He tried to push away the water glass again, but the dragon seized him by the back of the neck, his strength overwhelming.

"Drink," he ordered.

He still considered rebelling; he was damned, anyway, so what did it matter? Only, his pride and innate sense of honor would not let him. He had sworn an oath and he would uphold it. He could not disobey the Dragonlord, even though he wished to. Managing a couple swallows, he was allowed to lie back, staring limply at the ceiling. He threw an arm over his face and turned his head to the side.

The broken oath to the Warlord rankled within his breast, sharp and hot like a wound. He was a claimed man, bound by the strictest of ancient laws. He could not lift a hand against the holders of his honor, else be doomed forever. Should any of the Order now see him, he would immediately be set upon. That is, if Xiuhcoatl did not mete out his displeasure first.

"You have no idea what you have done to me."

Stepping into the room, he was faced with the dragon lord gripping his patient by the neck, rather tightly from what he could make out, and forcing a drink upon him. He could not be sorry that the man was finding this new life difficult, the one who had killed so many without regret.

Moving to the side of the bed, he would incline his head towards the dragon, polite yet not the awe and reverence most of the elves here offered him. He was reserved in his praise, still holding bitterness in him for being trapped here when his craving to leave and find more of his kind was still there. It was an old craving though, old yet persistent, and he had long since grown used to its nagging to ignore it. It had no purpose since he had no way to get out.

"If you would allow me, Lord Oceanwalker, I need to check the patient." He was always so formal with the dragon, not out of a particular awed respect, but because to use the first name was too familiar, especially when the dragon had been rather pressing with his favour of him. No need to encourage him. Stepping beside the bed, he would place his hands down upon the slayer's chest and close his eyes. A warm glow would be felt through the slayer's chest, like warm sunlight burning away icy mist the healing would chase away the lingering cough and weakness of the lungs, before moving to the hands and feet where the cold had done its damage, working on those as he stood in silence.

His healing was not what it might have been at this age had he been able to stay and learn more from those in his home city, but the itch had been too much, and the healer there had been unable to travel due to the age that had bred the infirmity that kept her there in the city. He had managed to stay long enough to learn the basics, and over the many years here in the city he had practised and honed what he knew. It was still not as good as it could have been with intensive training though, and he was often struck with the frustration of being as inept comparably to what he might otherwise have been. A trained healer might have fully chased the cold from this body by now, instead of it still being touch-and-go whether feeling came back in the limbs at all. He had come back so many times each day to check on the patient under the watchful eye of the dragon.

As he finished what he could for the moment on the patient.. he had to keep thinking of the man as that, instead of the murderer, he would move to wash his hands in the bowl of water nearby, drying them on the soft cloth beside it before turning, his eyes glancing to the dragon, before looking to the patient. "You were lucky, a little longer out there and I couldn't have fixed your hands at all. You would have lost them."

<<Hotaru>>

He wanted to fling the healer's hands off him, his skin crawling with distaste, but his orders were to regain his strength, and, other than tensing, he did not resist. In fact, he grit his teeth, trying to be gracious. He did appreciate not losing his fingers, but it would've been better had he died.

"Thank you, Healer." He glanced to the dragon. "Since I am yours to serve, Dragon, how shall I be of service?" The words felt like bristles and dust, but he forced himself to speak with a civil tongue.

<<Hotaru>>

The dragon just glared at him. Hotaru stared back. He didn't want to be here, either! They were enemies! If he had the strength (and his spear), he would kill the hulking pustule -- No. No, he wouldn't. His hands curled into weak fists in the bedclothes. He was bound now. He could do nothing to betray that bond, not even call to Xiuhcoatl for help. Technically, he had sworn his oath to the church, to the God's followers, and not to the God himself; however, Hotaru lived to serve Xiuhcoatl. That was his purpose. It was all he knew.

Panic beat at his breast, and he dropped the dragon's unblinking stare. He didn't have the strength for a battle of wills yet, and he didn't want the dragon able to see past his wobbly hatred. He was so tired, and he used that as a mask now, lying back in bed and scratching idly at a scaly patch on his forearm.

"Doctor?" he asked, figuring he might as well make some use of the man, since he had been ordered to get well. "Can you do aught about this?" He showed his arm. No one else had ever been able to help him, not all the scrapings for study or gels or creams had ever done a bit of good, but it was something to do. Hotaru would never admit that being helpless and in the care of one of his enemies could unnerve him so badly.

He would watch the silent growling death gaze between the dragon and his patient, and felt a little sympathy for the guy. Sure he was a mass murderer, and that could not be tolerated, but on the other hand he knew very well what it was like being trapped against your will in a place. Oh yes, he knew very well indeed.

"Oh, I already had a look at that" he said, looking at the flakey scratchy mess on the man's arm. "I am afraid I have no idea how to fix it. My training was never completed." Something that Lord Oceanwalker knew very well indeed he was not happy about, not happy at all. Nor was he that happy (thought resigned to it now) that he was stuck in this underwater prison when his people were out there on land somewhere. Sure the people here were nice and friendly, but he was not with the whole 'worship the dragon' thing that they went in for big time. It didn't help that the said dragon seemed to like his looks way more than was appropriate between men.

He was not however here to grouch about his circumstances, but instead here to try and promote more healing in the guy's fingers. If allowed, he would take the other's hands, one at a time, and focus on the healing tissue there. It might almost look like he was praying, but he was not, not to anything perhaps than nature itself, which if it was true, seemed to answer to him in the case of healing.

<<Hotaru>>

He scowled; the honesty surprised him, but the answer did not. What did it matter, anyway? If it was the skin-rot, then he'd die all the sooner, and that would be that.

He let his right hand be drawn into the healer's grip, the magic settling around his fingers with warmth that nevertheless made his skin crawl. He endured as much as he could, knowing he needed the full use of his hands, but then he yanked it back.

An apology was on his lips, and died there. He turned his back on them, rolling to his side and determinedly closing his eyes. His chest felt hollow and aching, and his eyes burned, but he resolutely kept his mouth closed and his breathing even. Whatever tension he contained soon bled away into exhausted slumber. He was healing, but he wasn't healed yet.

The dragon had been silent through the other's whining and complaining. He had no desire to listen to the griping of a man, much less one that had slain many of his kin. He could care less. If his god had not asked him to intervene and he had heard about the monster in the snow, he would have left him to die and not cared one whit about it. He would not have slept badly.

He glowered at the hunter, "I would gladly have you out of my home and possibly dead, that would be nice." He said cooly, "But my lord wishes you to remain alive and in service. Hopefully that will see you dead sooner than later." He looked up as the healer came to the other, well aware that the wizard was displeased with his place here, not that it mattered, not really, it was safer here for the wizard, he'd get himself killed for sure, and with a face like that, it was too much to see him dead.

He had no sympathy for the killer, but he did take a closer look at the scalyness on his arm, it was suspicious, he would wait for the expert first, before he made a judgement call. He watched the elf work to heal the other and he growled when the hunter pulled his hand away. "You were brought here to get well, hunter." He said, "You will endure the discomfort of healing, until you are healed, or I will have them cut off and your weapons tied to the stumps that are left." His voice was little above a snarl, his eyes like amethyst crystal, the very picture of cold inhumanity, for certainly he was not human.

He would look over to the dragon as he listened to the comments made to the patient. He had to keep seeing him as a patient, not as a murderer. "Lord Oceanwalker, please!" he said, in an all too familiar frustrated huff of a sentence. "I hardly think threatening and reminding someone of their captivity is going to make them any more likely to cooperate." Of course, he should know.

He would heal what he could before the man pulled his hands away. That was fine, he was nearly done today anyhow, and he doubted the man had much physical contact. It must be difficult for him. "Its ok, Ill come back when you are more rested." he said when the other's apology stalled in his throat. He could see it though in the other's gaze, along with the struggle and discomfort. "Itll get easier with time I guess" he said to the man that was fast falling asleep.

After washing his hands again (something he did quite a lot), he would turn to the dragon. "He may well have murdered your kin, but I might suggest threatening him with mutilation and such if you actually want him to do a decient job with whatever your God wishes of him." A slight reminder there that the god was not his god. He didn't really support either god, as was within his nature. He followed healing and nature and such things, not that he had had much time to commune with plants reciently. He missed the forests so much, and the stars, and the fresh air.

He would turn away, unable to look at his handsome captor any more. "Ill come around later to check on him" he said before moving to the doorway, the coloured threads in his hair glinting in the light.

Thorn snorted, "As if it matters. He has to cooperate. My lord bids it." He said cooly, his hands clenching slightly, before he turned and left the room, he'd wind up injuring someone, if he didn't. His robes flared behind him as he stalked out, his stormy visage keeping people from interfering with his stalk as he went to the vaulted room where he shed his clothes and went for a swim, hopefully the water would cool his head.

He blew out a stream of bubbles, paddling through the water like a streak of purple light as he twisted, turned and dived, deeper, and deeper, scraping the bottom, snapping a shark that chanced to come too close, his claws digging into the ocean floor as he rubbed his horns into the sand and through the kelp, letting it gather and weight him slightly as he made his way across the bottom of sea floor, letting loose a stream of bubbles again. His tail sweeping behind him as he dug down, searching for clams, crunching them like little bits of popcorn. He snagged a few crabs and lobsters before he went to search out bigger game, whales, sharks, dolphins, tuna, etc. Hunting always helped calm him.

He shook off the kelp and foliage before he turned upwards to gather breath from the surface. After all, he couldn't breathe underwater. He paddled around on the surface for awhile before he plunged down again, calmer, he could face the hunter now, though the desire to kill him may linger.

<<Hotaru>>

Days passed in that strange, half-aware, half-sleep way of the seriously ill. Hotaru slept, ate a little or staggered to the privy, then slept some more and endured the frequent healings before sleeping again. Though he was elven, the healer was a quiet sort who did not make idle chit-chat, and Hotaru found that, after awhile, he did not mind the elf's presence.

There came a time, however, where Hotaru felt really awake and no longer content to waste away his time in bed. It was almost like waking from a dream. Unlike a dream, the walls around him did not fade away into something less alien. They became more real instead o f less as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

His head spun, so he rested there for a minute, using a shaky hand to guide the water glass to his lips. He had to cup the glass in both hands, letting the weight rest on his thighs before putting it back on the little table beside a crockery jar filled with the spicy cream that soothed the itch from his skin. At the foot of the bed hung a pair of green trousers. The fabric felt cool and light-weight in his hands, as soft as silk, but far more durable.

Hotaru wanted his leathers and armor, feeling quite exposed without them, but he didn't have to work at convincing himself that the trousers were better than wandering around naked.

The short walk across the room to the curtained window left Hotaru with a racing heart and shaky legs. He lurched and hit the corner, holding onto the curtains to stay upright and cursing over his body's weakness.

Dragonslayer.

The deep voice, speaking from nowhere, made Hotaru startle, losing his balance and yanking down the curtains as he fell. He cursed again, cursed the Dragon Lord, but the god's booming voice cut him short.

Silence! Thou should mind thy tongue, as beholden to me.

"You tricked me!" Hotaru accused, glaring up and around him as he struggled to untangle his limbs.

Thou are mine, and thy will keep a civil tongue.

Hotaru pressed the heel of his hand against a suddenly aching head. The room spun about him and he blinked to clear the double images from his vision. "Yes," he whispered, gritting his teeth. "L-Lord Dragon."

You will obey?

The implication that he could not or would not honor his oath rankled and he snapped back without thinking, "You have taken everything from me; I'll be damned before you take my honor as well!"

The heavy, oppressive, invisible weight in the room lifted, leaving Hotaru gasping, his ears popping from the change in pressure. He groaned, hearing the soft echo of laughter in his head if not his ears, but he was alone once more. Struggling, but taking care with his oaths, Hotaru pushed and pulled himself onto the padded window seat.

Sweat beaded on his skin, sticking his back to the cool wall. For a moment he just sat there while his limbs quit shaking, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. Strength would come back more quickly once he started moving around again; he could console himself with those thoughts, even if his mind insisted on fretting over what the Dragon Lord would choose for him to do.

Hotaru had no say in the matter; he knew this, and dreaded finding out what his task would be.

Oceanwalker spent the days in impatience and agitation, smacking his horns against the doorways as he passed through them, beating them against columns as he passed them so they elves stayed away from him, as he was liable to take his anger out on them. He growled and made his general displeasure known, but until he calmed himself, he did not allow himself back into the room with the hunter. No, he was far too smart to do that, he'd end up doing something violent, even though his kind were prone to more peaceful ways of life, swimming, playing with dolphins, swimming some more... really, this anger shouldn't even really be here. He just couldn't help it, the hunter, the fact that he'd killed so many of his kind, simply infuriated him beyond the point of reason. It could be because of his kinslayer background, however. He had been an oddity.

It wasn't until much later when the hunter was feeling better, that he could bring himself to the room, contained and icy as he pushed in, carrying clothing, "Put that on, slayer." He said quickly, throwing the bit of cloth at him, he himself was dressed in light clothes that barely covered his frame. He wasn't shy of exposing himself, clearly. "We're going for a swim, you do know how, don't you?" He asked coolly.

Once the other was dressed, and he had established the other could walk at least for a bit, he led the other down the hallway a bit, into an enormous pool of water. A dark lair, if one would, the walls alight with glowing, colored lichen, throwing odd shadows across the water. The water itself, was lit by many, many, many, glowing fish that darted about and swam through the water, lighting and showing how shallow or deep the water was. Oceanwalker shed his clothes then, dropping it away, "Come, the fish here help healing, and the water will allow you to exercise without putting pressure on your joints or too much strain on your body, as it is still recovering with a bout of death." He said, stepping into the water, slowly sinking in up to his waist, "Come, Slayer, I've got doctor's permission for at least two hours and it will give you something to do other than sit around and wait for my lord to contact you again." He said, slipping into the water, his hair flowing out around him, the light moving away from him at first then as he moved around, the fish came to swim around him, almost playfully, if his face hadn't been so stony. "Are you coming?"

<<Hotaru>>

The presence of the water dragon surprised Hotaru, and he instinctively reached for weapons, only to be brought up short by the icy grip of reality. Adrenaline raced through his body, temporarily lending him strength, and he scowled at the dragon's knowing leer.

Hotaru refused to be embarrassed, however. His was a strong, muscular form from years of fighting and training, slightly underweight from illness, but not enough to start relieving him of muscle tone. If the dragon were human, Teo felt confident he could take him out, even given his current weakness; but a dragon's mortal form still contained its draconic strength ... and Hotaru did have an oath to uphold.

Dragons like Oceanwalker reminded Hotaru of the good he was doing -- had been doing -- by ridding the world of them. The water dragon was as haughty and imperious as the worst of his kind. He was the type to believe that all should bow and scrape before him, fulfilling his every whim.

Unfortunately, this dragon also held Hotaru's oath. He had to obey, whatever he personally thought of the idea. He grit his teeth and pressed his lips tightly together, hands curled up into fists with the force required to keep himself in check.

He answered no questions, following silently at his best pace, infuriated and ashamed of his weakness as that pace slowed the longer they walked, but Hotaru kept the effort off his face. He used what little extra energy he had to reinforce the cold, dispassionate mask he wore to everyone but the few friends he had, friends who had slowly died out over the years until there was only one left. The Dragonslayer was immortal, fearless, and chipped from stone. His was a face that few but the dying saw, and he'd worked hard over the years to be as terrifying as possible. Fear made people (and dragons) make mistakes.

He was one step from putting a hand on the wall, appearances be damned, by the time the dragon stepped into a room. Hotaru followed, one eyebrow quirking up in curiosity he was too drained to repress.

The dragon stripped and walked into the glowing pool without a care. Hotaru just stared. He drew a more relaxed breath when he saw the dragon standing, and the water came up to his neck. Deep enough to drown in, but only if Hotaru lost his footing.

He took in the dim, glowing lights, quiet and solitude, dispassionately for a long minute. He didn't trust this dragon, but he could not disobey. Sure, he hadn't come right out and 'commanded' Hotaru to get in, but his voice made it clear it was a command nonetheless.

Fear pounded in Hotaru's chest. He could not swim, and that was a water dragon. Whatever the healing qualities of the water, whatever oaths Hotaru had taken, he still did not trust this dragon, a dragon he didn't even know the name for. He felt dark, cold, and still, like deep water, and Hotaru was afraid of more than the water. He knew from sea voyages that deep water hid untold dangers, and the sea was a fickle mistress.

The dragon struck off down the length of the pool, arms and legs moving in a steady fashion, secure in his own safety, but then why wouldn't he be safe? This was his element. He called a second time, and this was a question and not an order.

"No," Hotaru replied. He turned, hand reaching for the wall to steady him. If he had the option, then he would decline.

He wore a contented smile as he closed the cover of his personal journals. This particular one was on current human affairs. Although things were brewing in the war between the gods, the humans remained ever neutral, too caught up in their own affairs to worry that the war may end in with their very existence being wiped from the planet. Fortunately for him, they did not know much about it, otherwise they’d be going crazy trying to stop it and only wind up getting themselves killed faster. Despite their confidence they were not the strongest or brightest creatures in the world, but they were entertaining at least.

“That should be good for the day.” He muttered in a smooth voice. It was actually nearly time for him to return home to his den; humans were beginning to suspect that the ‘old scholar’ was not as human as he claimed. Which would be correct, but there was no pleasant outcome once they decided he didn’t belong. He heaved a short sigh, he’d enjoyed this stay and learned much, but all good things must end. Wasn’t that the adage? That was a rather pessimistic view. It was time to return home for a spell. Better.

He wouldn’t be able to fly back until he was safely away from the human settlement and so, he opted to gather the necessary items, his histories and recordings, some food stuff, trinkets that he intended to keep and that was all really.

His little venture through the forest consisted of a fairly uneventful day and a half, before reaching a clearing suitable, the humans might see him yet, but at least they couldn’t suit up to attack him fast enough.; however, a small voice captured his attention as he prepared to travel home. Two Brownies were perched on a tree branch, just about eye level. He approached them with a smile on his face and nodded to them.

“Greetings, my friends. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You are Aeolus, the Crystal Dragon?” One of the creatures asked. Aeolus nodded.

“I am. May I ask who seeks me?” He asked the Brownie.

“We’ve got a message for you from Lord Oceanwalker. He wishes for you to join him at his home to discuss something important.”

He waited, hoping the little men had more information, but they shook their heads and he sighed. It was rare for the proud blue dragon to be in need of any assistance, though it was unlikely for it to be a trap, since typically Thorn did not hide his contempt for another well at all.

“Well then, I suppose I am not going home then. Thank you, sirs. I shall head for Lord Oceanwalker’s home immediately.” Aeolus nodded lowly again, as the Brownies took off toward the human settlement he’d just come from. Shaking his head, he stripped off his robbing and wrapping it round the sealed box that held his precious records and tucking both into his pack before changing and flexing his wings. A sound of contentment escaped his throat as he carefully lifted his pack and took to the skies, heading for the lake that held Oceanwalker’s underwater city.

He stopped only when a rest was necessary in order to make the best time to Rhodanthe. As it was it took a couple days, but likely it took the messengers a great deal longer to get to him. He hesitated, circling above the lake for some time. It wasn’t a matter of getting wet himself, but rather he was worried his work for the past ten years would get soaked through and ruined. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave them on the shore for someone to snatch up and take off with. He had them tightly sealed in a box made just in case his things were to fall into a puddle or some other misfortune that would result in their ruination.

But then he was truly curious: what would bring such a proud creature as Oceanwalker to him? Only one way to find out, he supposed. Taking a deep breath, he dove into the depths of the lake, making straight for the city, the moment he caught sight of it. He circled it once and found the large central area in the city, pressing through the shield, he landed himself neatly.

Changing to his human form immediately, he threw open his pack and unwrapped the box and wiped it dry with the drying cloth offered to him. That he was nude, didn’t even pass his mind as he carefully opened the box to find that his records were safe. He heaved a sigh of relief and resealed it before standing and drying himself.

“Where may I find your Lord Oceanwalker?” He asked one of the elves that offered him a robe, which he accepted with a nod of thanks.

“He’s with the half-human warrior, he brought in shortly before I was asked to send you a message.” A female voice spoke with what he took for a form of respect. He smiled as he approached her.

“Might you be able to show me to where they are?”

“Of course, Master Aeolus. That is my purpose in coming to welcome you.”

“Good, good.” He spoke with a nod and the female began to lead him through the city at a nice pace. “May I have your name, miss?”

“I am Emma.” She answered, looking back at him without breaking stride. She worked very hard, he could tell that much. She stopped at a door. “The master is in here, exercising the patient. I will announce you.”

Aeolus shook his head and thanked her, “Thank you ma’am, but I can announce myself.” Emma looked briefly shocked, but bowed and left him to attend to her other duties and Aeolus pushed open the doors and walked right on through, toward the light sound of lapping water. The scene was something to behold a dim cave lit by all natural means, down to the glowing fish in the pool. Lord Oceanwalker was in the water while, who he assumed to be the half-human Emma had mentioned, leaned against the wall for support.

“Kagarithorn Oceanwalker.” He called, “It has been a long time since I’ve seen you, you look well.” He spoke politely and then nodded to the man leaning against the wall, “And you might be?”

The healer had been staying out the way, but he was there, in the shadows, watching and waiting.

He had gone to check on the patient only to find him being led off to the healing pool by Lord Oceanwalker. He had followed, going the back route until he stood in the shadows of the room, ready to step forward should the patient want it. He was not here as a servant, nor was he here as someone that bent and scraped for the merest hint of a kind word from a dragon. He had spent too long being trapped here and angry about it to act like the elves in this place. Elf he might be, but he was a wizard and healer first.

He watched as a new dragon came in. He could tell it wasn't a normal person, he could feel the power, but did not step out into the room. He wasn't here for him either. Unless the dragonslayer fell more ill, or just plain fell from the strain he could already see on his face, he would stay where he was, a silent observer.

<<Hotaru>>

"It's none of your business, dragon," he sneered, seething hatred overcoming his better sense. He'd felt the dragon coming for long minutes before he arrived.

In Hotaru's experience, most red dragons smelled like ash or smoke or something similar, the old fire and brimstone kind of impression. Brown dragons big and lumbering, sort of like sliding down into a well or going into a deep tunnel. White dragons were snowy and kind of fluttery, like birds. All the dragons had their general tones and impressions, and few strayed from that, but he'd never actually met another crystal dragon, so he'd figured it out by default, and this one felt stuffy and close, like stale air, or ... his mind latched on the thought ... like a library. If he concentrated, he could almost imagine the scratch of quills on parchment.

Ludicrous, really, since he couldn't remember ever being in a place like that, but instincts were instincts, and Hotaru felt with his warrior's instincts that this dragon, whatever else he may be, was not -- or would not have been -- a match for him, even in his weakened state.

He wanted to kill, this dragon who looked very nearly human but felt completely draconic. Decades of training and desire could not be overcome in so little a span of days, and he was already feeling decidedly stretched thin by this little excursion in the company of a creature he was growing to loathe more and more with each passing minute. Even if he hadn't been a dragon this ... Kagarithorn Oceanwalker was as pompous and arrogant a little lordling as any Hotaru had had the misfortune to meet.

Oath or no oath, he wanted to kill something so badly he could taste it, and two dragons in close proximity was almost more than he could stand.

He stood there in the shadows, and saw the meeting going downhill. The man was pushing his luck too far.

Stepping from the shadows, he inclined his head to the two dragons. "I believe my patient's condition has pushed his good manners to their limit. If you will excuse us, I believe this excursion has been too much for him." His gaze would try to catch Hotaru's, a warning to just keep his damn mouth shut. If he had learned anything in the years here in the dragon's town, it was that pissing them off was not a good plan. He himself regularly kept to the line between open rebellion and peace.

Moving forward, he would slip his arm under the other's and around his back, hefting him up for support. "Come along. You need to rest" he said with just enough bite that the dragons would assume that he was going to be just as harsh a taskmaster in pushing his patient around as they might be, though without the whole eating of the patient in anger aspect.

Aeolus' eyes widened at the harsh retort he received. Few humans, had spoken in such a haughty manner to him and even fewer elves. This man was clearly both. He turned to look at Oceanwalker, assuming the human to weak to try to attack. What with the hatred in his eyes and the tensing of his muscles, the man surely wanted to hurt, if not him then something. "You've got a mouthy one here, Thorn. Sure he's house broken?"

He turned back when the healer wizard spoke, making an excuse for his patient. He nodded with a bored smile, "Mmm... I'm sure that your patient is completely aware of what escapes his mouth. I would recommend a punishment, but then violence is not in my making." He trailed off, then waved a hand, "But, please, take him away to rest, if he needs it. Your Lord Oceanwalker and I have business to discuss."

<<Hotaru>>

Hotaru didn't fight the healer's steadying grip, leaning his weight against the elf almost gratefully, but the crystal dragon's words made him tense again.

"What greater punishment could there be?" he demanded, his cold eyes sweeping over both dragons. "I am your enemy!"

The healer jostled him, cutting off Hotaru's words, and he shifted his glare to the elf, but allowed himself to be led from the room. He was still fuming by the time he collapsed on his bed, but anger required far too much energy at present. He gripped a pillow with one hand, wanting to rip and shred, but holding himself back. He had not felt driven to such senseless rage in years. He supposed it was at least partly driven by the ... position he now found himself in, as well as the blue dragon's haughty attitude.

Conversely, as the anger bled away, he also wanted to weep. He was helpless. Trapped. He was essentially a slave and however gilded the cage, it was still a cage, one that rubbed on raw nerves.

He took out his frustrations and pent-up emotions on his skin, ruthlessly scratching at all of the itchy, dry, flaky patches he could reach, until he drew blood or was otherwise stopped.

He would pause, looking to this new dragon. Unlike the other elves around here, he was not scared to say what he liked, though he was by far more civilised and less volatile in his answers. "I believe that being here alone in the situation he is in is punishment enough in this case. Being trapped with no way to escape is bad enough, but forced to live in a place, powerless, with your enemies is quite another. If you will excuse us please." he said, moving with the other back to the room.

He set the man down on the bed carefully, aware of just how weak he was after that trip. It had been the first time (other than when the man had been initially asleep) that he had been able to actually touch him with more than merely fingertips. However as the other started to shred his arm, he would catch the scratching hand in a surprisingly strong grip. "That will never heal if you continue to do that." he said, and that was something he felt strongly about. Healing after all was his problem. He would focus and slowly the bloodied scrapes deep in the skin closed over, though he could do nothing for the flakiness.

"Something I have learned while being here" he said to the man "is that no matter how bad you think your situation is, if the dragons get angry at you, your life can be made so much worse, while they still get what they want from you. I don't know what they want, for clearly Oceanwalker is at odds with the command of his God, but picking verbal fights will only make things worse for you." He finished the healing, and the extra bits he could before stepping back and washing his hands. "I have been here for about a century now, so I believe I speak with some knowledge of the situation."

His eyes narrowed as so many people invaded his cavern. He had invited the hunter here as a gesture of good faith, and now he was being imposed upon. He growled, standing, not even given a chance to put the hunter in the water before the healer whisked him away and Aeolus entered. "Healer." He said warningly, "The Hunter will return to this room, soon.." He said, the tone was not to be brooked, it was a warning, loud and clear as he stood, the water running rivers down his form. "His good manners ought to be returned the next we meet or we may have... a disagreement." He said, quietly threatening a storm. "Don't be too hasty to judge him worthy of your pity, Arandur, he's little better than a beast and a monster, and no punishment I can think of is too great for his like." He was not of a forgiving nature, just as the oceans and the seas were not. He slid his penetrating gaze from the healer and his... charge, moving to his guest, after all, he was expected.

"Aeolus." He said smoothly, changing from threatening to cooly welcoming, "I bid you welcome to my home." He said as the other's left. "Come, sit, the water is nice." He said, returning to the water and relaxing, his anger melting away as quickly as it had come. His horns brushed the stone as he sat, sinking into the water, crossing his legs, "How was your trip? Not too harsh I trust? The city to your liking?" He asked quietly, "As you can see, I have a decidedly unwelcome visitor that I plucked from the snow of the north, he is the Dragonslayer, weakened by the cold, now indebted to the dragon god, his debt held by me. I wish him dead. And his body burned far from my kingdom. But for some reason the god wishes his life spared and it spent in servitude." His nose curled in abject disdain of his situation, "But I won't say he isn't interesting. The kind of interesting that... well, may interest you."

He watched the crystal dragon perk at this and continued, "I've sent for you for this, see, he has this perpetual skin... problem that I have not seen in ages, and only on, you know, those particular types, but I think to myself, when I see it, it cannot be, because those types have died out, completely. The last one was destroyed by Xiuhcoatl in the last Great War. At least those are the stories told to me." He looked away, "Then he's here. With his scaly skin and hornless brow, curved ears and..." His anger made his hair rise up a bit and his upper lip curl, before he stilled and settled, "What I mean to say is, I've called you here to determine whether or not he is one of... those people." He said, his violet eyes rising to look at the other fully.

He had paused as the other spoke to him in such a tone, reason enough, in his opinion, for him getting the patient out of there. "When things have calmed down, I will be the first to promote such a visit, Lord Oceanwalker. And who I give my help to is my own concern. If you dislike my way of functioning, you could always let me return to the surface, and that would get rid of the problem." He would turn, the metallic blue threads in his hair glinting beautifully in the light as he swept from the room with his patient. He got away with a lot, he knew. Very few ever talked to the dragon as he did.. and the patient seemed even worse. It did not bode well when dragons were prideful creatures.