Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

Ceridwen blinked, confused at what had just happened. Looking around at her surroundings, she raised a brow. "And now I'm lounging around in the snow while my friends are in danger," she mumbled to herself critically. Still, she made no motion to leave the spot she found herself in. The Thunderbird had put her there and she presumed it probably wanted her to stay there.

[C S]

The elemental bird began to lean forward. It was like part of the mountain itself was breaking and beginning its descent, such was the scale of watching the shadow become animate. Colors and features came out of the silhouette as the thunderbird neared Ceridwen, and the dragoness was soon beak to beak with the being of myth. The condensed rainbows in its eyes, in Ceridwen's own gaze, brought with them a soothing reassurance that no words could carry. It harkened back to the trance in the cave. One could not truly see -- appreciate -- when stress and worry acted as blindfolds.

[The Kingpin]

The soothing aura's return was something Ceridwen hadn't realised she needed, and she found herself calming somewhat, her concerns settling for the time being. She couldn't quite bring herself to draw the Elemental's attention to the original reason she came, but she did manage an inkling of a smile. For now, that would have to do.

[C S]

The tranquility was a forebear for a certain hopefulness that lifted Ceridwen's spirit and replaced the worry. It was as if she had gained some insight from the giant bird, though she could not make sense of it. All she could feel was that her concern wasn't whether or not Septimus and Syria still lived, but when in the near future they would see each other again. A peculiar certainty, but one to be expected in the realm of Thunderkin.

[The Kingpin]

The smile broadened. She couldn't have hoped to explain the sensation she felt, but she wasn't complaining. At this point, the collective influences of the Thunderbird's aura served to dull her awareness that it was happening at all. It seemed that the more the Thunderbird exerted its influence on her, the less aware of it she became. Now, only a handful of things remained to occupy her thoughts. One was the coming celebrations and how grandly Willow and Syria had described them to her. Another, was the thoughts of accompanying Beshi in her flying practice.

[C S]

Later, into the hours of orange skies and the western sun, Syria's eyes opened again. Immediately, she took to rubbing the lingering drowsiness from them as she rolled. Unbeknownst to her, she was already precariously close to the edge of the bed. She fell off and landed softly on the padded floor, not able to do so much as yelp before she found herself on her front, looking around at all the disorder. Things scattered about in disarray.

"Dearie," she mumbled. Syria took a look at herself and realized she had collapsed into bed with her coat still on. A glance off to her side confirmed that she at least was able to take her boots off, though it appeared she had just kicked them aside to leave them where they lay. "Dearie, dearie," the novice muttered as she started to pick herself up.

[The Kingpin]

"Good evening, dear," rumbled the Scholar's voice, seemingly emanating from the walls of the satchel. The Scholar, resting though he had been, kept a wary eye on the Mage, waiting for the moment she woke. By now, they were within sight of their spot. Septimus noted that the water in his little arcane hot spring had frozen over in their absence. Something to tend to when he landed.

[C S]

"Evening already? I feel bad for sleeping in," Syria replied. It would have been a joke at any other time. The mage raised her hands and green began to surround the loose objects around her. In the next instant, she was directing books, papers and all else with her fingers to their proper places on shelves and stacks on her desk. The innkeeper in her could not stand the mess that had accumulated over the past days, and before anything else she would see it rectified.

[The Kingpin]

"It's justified, considering the last few days." His tone rang with what could have been amusement, or perhaps even admiration for how seriously she took her own sleeping habits. "I can't really say I know the feeling. Comes with sleeping when one needs to and waking when one feels like it," he quipped as he began his final descent towards the ground, gliding serenely over the river before banking left. He wasn't quite as energised as he would have liked, but it was enough to last him the night. He could rest to his heart's content during the early hours of the morning, once all was said and done.

[C S]

"I also feel bad for letting things get a little out of hand in here, but I'm working on it. Maybe we'll see about you joining me in here one of these days, yet. Or, you know. Tonight." A brow perked up when Syria pulled a sack of dried meats into a hand. This wasn't something to leave out on the floor! She took out a strip and bit into it while sending the rest across the way, into the section of the satchel where they kept their food items. She continued putting things away while snacking, as her appetite had come back to her in a big way.

[The Kingpin]

"Maybe. It might be a pleasant change from sleeping out in the cold. That said, I'm built for it. You might find yourself a bit too warm with me as company in there," responded the Scholar almost as he landed, his rear legs touching down before his front limbs, the dragon moving in a gallop that halted a couple of moments later. His wings furled as he walked towards the pool, inspecting it briefly. A thin stream of deep blue flames melted the ice instantly, the hiss of evaporating water loud enough to be heard quite a way away. He was quick to replenish what was lost from the lake, the boiling water reduced to a just slightly uncomfortably warm temperature. A small, pleased smile curled across his muzzle as the resulting effect became apparent. Steam was rising from the pool in thick wafts that would have obscured whatever was in it from the view of any outsider.

[C S]

"That's what the wirshah is for, no? I've already become versed in sleeping with it on, incidentally. There's always the alternative, in that I go with less on. Varying degrees of less. Perhaps a lot less?" The lady hummed an exaggeratedly uncertain tone as she stowed the last bits of refuse away, then clapped her hands together. Her inner innkeeper was a lot happier now, and was a little more grateful for her more magically attuned side.

[The Kingpin]

"I suppose you could. After all, you're in the middle of nowhere, with a creature that could not be less concerned with the notion of such a silly thing as decency," responded the Hueilin, seemingly thoughtful. "But then, wouldn't that potentially worsen the problem? Even a human's bashfulness can make them flush with warmth, what then is to be said of playing with the heart and mind of a creature that shouldn't reasonably be affected by such things? The fact this one is seems to lend itself to quite a...pyretic experience, wouldn't you say?" he asked as he paced around near the pool, stopping at the foot of one of the trees in the glen they had chosen on their previous visit. Even as he spoke, the barbecue spit rose from the satchel, setting itself up to the side as an arcane flame burst to life beneath it, serving where no dry tinder could be found for a normal fire. Not that that was a problem. The flame was large, and cast an aura of warmth around it that could almost make one forget it was winter; it would do well to keep the Mage in his company comfortable.

[C S]

The satchel's top opened a sliver when Syria, after climbing the shelves, pressed her head against it. "If you have to ask, then we're going to have to find out. Thus is the nature of knowledge, Scholar. Not that you needed me to tell you that, you sly thing, you." The flap flew up and Syria swung herself about, hanging from the outside of the bag before dropping down next to Septimus. Taking in the scene of a steaming pool and blue flames underneath the barbecue spit, she realized that he hadn't been idle while she saw to her end of things.

[The Kingpin]

"Perhaps there is something to learn here," he started as he arched his vast form around the mage, settling on his flank with a heavy thump. His head levelled itself beside her, his snout aimed down, horns pointing nearly straight up, his vast skull parallel to her figure. "But trying to hide intentions behind academic fervour doesn't quite work with someone who knows you as well as I do, dear," teased the dragon. No sooner had he finished speaking than the sizeable flank of a previously butchered Ridgehorn rose from the other, cooled satchel. Three thick skewers plunged through the meat, set on a gear on one end of the spit, which began to slowly rotate over the flames. "We both know that there's nothing scholarly about your intentions for the evening," he concluded with a smug grin as he let his sapphire gaze meet her own emerald, almost as a heavy wooden thud announced that a rather sizeable barrel had emerged from the satchels as well.

[C S]

Syria smiled and patted Septimus on a cheek. "Learning is fun," she replied sweetly, "and when one has the chance to learn through play, they would be bereft to not do so, wouldn't you agree?"

[The Kingpin]

"Oh, I entirely agree. I simply wish to make clear that the implication that this is for learning before anything else is fooling no one," retorted the Scholar, his tongue flicking past his lips for the briefest of moments, tickling the Mage's cheek with the forked tip before receding. "It is a simple matter of the maid falling for the dragon that has taken her, swept away by his power and wrapped around his finger," he drawled, his rumbling voice all the more disarmingly seductive for its depth. Were one to see them now they would swear the otherwise dangerous looking beast had her under some spell. It was almost entertaining to him how far from the truth that was.

[C S]

"Only for your power you say? Mister brittle-bones dragon Khulruudi, I believe you are selling yourself short. The other things are accurate." Syria patted Septimus on the snout and leaned in close so as to brace against the Scholar's head. "Ah, but alas, I do have some actual business to attend to before we continue this game. I don't think Desrium would be very happy to learn that I delayed my talk with Faruq in favor of celebrations."

[The Kingpin]

"Of course," rumbled the drake, reaching a clawed paw around the mage and pulling her to the ground against his thick yet pliable chest scales. His gaze shimmered and a deep purple mist seemed to spill forth from his reptilian eyes. The gem on the medallion he wore glimmered, its dark black-brown hue supplanted by a brilliant gold as the power within the Eye was brought to bear once more. "Feel free to reach out to him yourself this time. I think you've proven yourself capable enough to wield it," he stated as his forelimbs crossed over her legs.

[C S]

"'Tis the highest of honors, m'dragon-lord," Syria responded playfully in their act. She couldn't help it, despite the weight of the moment. It really was a momentous thing for her, and one she would cherish. It was difficult to be overtaken with any significance however, when she was lying atop the curious dragon and he in turn was holding her as one would a doll. "How gracious of the large and mighty to let my tiny hands touch a marvel such as this," she teased as her fingers clasped the enchanted jewel.

Right as she made contact, she could feel in her mind a definite sense of space. She was atop Septimus' chest, and at the corners of her vision were all the acres of forest and miles of road that separated her and the Storyteller, compressed into an inky blur. The sensation had her staring ahead with wide eyes; she did not want to blink, but part of her wanted to know how this would look and feel if she did...

"Faruq?" It was so bizarre to her, being able to perceive a thought's travel across distance in the span of thinking said thought. A vastly different experience from being linked to the Eye by way of Septimus. "Am... am I interrupting something? Is this... ah... a bad time?" From her head, straight into another's. Did Septimus feel the same way, or was this a distinctly human reaction to this kind of magic? Or was the Scholar simply used to it by now?