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Entry tags:
01: Obsidian Sanctum
Who: Cynder, Black Dragonsfolk
What: Bandwagoning the new arrival thing
Where: Obsidian Sanctum
When: New Arrival period proper
Warnings: Black Dragonsworn doing Black Dragonsworn things.
[Home is now a lava pit, it seems.
Cynder understood this was a different world. She understood something had happened to her own, and then she'd been snatched away to this place. Whatever that cloaked biped had said, she recalled most of it, and the imagery of dragons of multiple colors, and that somehow she was supposed to help. What she didn't understand was why Spyro hadn't been called instead. The Purple Dragon was after all, a hero. She ... was not.
She hadn't moved from the dark cave she'd woken in, black scales on black stone allowing plenty of natural camouflage once she'd tucked herself up and folded her wings tightly against her sides, trying to get her bearings. Only when she's managed to settle her nerves enough was she willing to leave her hiding spot - and that perhaps only because there are other dragons outside. Dark ones, like herself, instead of the blaze of yellow, blue, green and red she'd gotten used to at the Dragon's Temple. They might be strangers, but she was in their territory, and if they wanted to hurt her she'd be hurt.
The small dragon's exploration of the Obsidian Sanctum is as silent as she can make it, exceedingly cautious and as unobtrusive as she can manage. The dragonkin guards were intimidating enough to keep her from approaching too closely, save attempting to get around some and investigate the eggs very ... very gently. Dragon eggs were always precious things, and she won't touch, but they seemed a little strange. They had spikes.
And then further poking around, slinking from place to place low to the ground, using scent as well as sight and sound to tell what's where. She blends in fairly well all told, save the silver collar, bracers and tailband she wore; spotting her as she picks her way warily about, giving anyone and anything draconic a politely wide berth to try to avoid drawing possible trouble. Non-dragons, or things blatantly not related to them as the dragonkin were, however might draw the attention of Cynder very quickly.]
What: Bandwagoning the new arrival thing
Where: Obsidian Sanctum
When: New Arrival period proper
Warnings: Black Dragonsworn doing Black Dragonsworn things.
[Home is now a lava pit, it seems.
Cynder understood this was a different world. She understood something had happened to her own, and then she'd been snatched away to this place. Whatever that cloaked biped had said, she recalled most of it, and the imagery of dragons of multiple colors, and that somehow she was supposed to help. What she didn't understand was why Spyro hadn't been called instead. The Purple Dragon was after all, a hero. She ... was not.
She hadn't moved from the dark cave she'd woken in, black scales on black stone allowing plenty of natural camouflage once she'd tucked herself up and folded her wings tightly against her sides, trying to get her bearings. Only when she's managed to settle her nerves enough was she willing to leave her hiding spot - and that perhaps only because there are other dragons outside. Dark ones, like herself, instead of the blaze of yellow, blue, green and red she'd gotten used to at the Dragon's Temple. They might be strangers, but she was in their territory, and if they wanted to hurt her she'd be hurt.
The small dragon's exploration of the Obsidian Sanctum is as silent as she can make it, exceedingly cautious and as unobtrusive as she can manage. The dragonkin guards were intimidating enough to keep her from approaching too closely, save attempting to get around some and investigate the eggs very ... very gently. Dragon eggs were always precious things, and she won't touch, but they seemed a little strange. They had spikes.
And then further poking around, slinking from place to place low to the ground, using scent as well as sight and sound to tell what's where. She blends in fairly well all told, save the silver collar, bracers and tailband she wore; spotting her as she picks her way warily about, giving anyone and anything draconic a politely wide berth to try to avoid drawing possible trouble. Non-dragons, or things blatantly not related to them as the dragonkin were, however might draw the attention of Cynder very quickly.]
no subject
All black dragons are allies? That's ... odd.
[But colorcoded for convenience. If it wasn't black, it may be an enemy. It's probably a good thing she was here then, and not with one of the other colors..]
I don't have my own powers anymore either. I think I have new ones instead, but it's not the same. Maybe there's a way to let you .. see time again. I'll keep an eye out.
[She'll volunteer that much assistance. It wasn't really a lot, but he was being helpful. It wouldn't cost her anything to keep track of things that might be time related.]
no subject
[He strangely finds himself actually liking the small dragon, so there's at least less chance that he'll ultimately try to be her undoing, one day.]
New powers seems to be a common them among the dragonsworn. Surion, the blackflight's "Dragon Mage" as he's called, said that this world changes people. [He smirks.] I'm still figuring it out; I doubt I've even scratched the surface.
And thank you.
Sorry for the delay.
[Not quite allies, but possibly if the other black dragons were hurt bigger, angrier ones would do harm in return. Cynder wasn't given to murder without having orders to that effect, but it was still good to know.
And it did explain his hesitation at first. Apparently the young ones were to be treated very carefully indeed. That she doesn't have to ask about, it made sense on its own.]
Maybe it's this world's way of helping us survive here. I think I'd have preferred to keep what I had before though. .. Do you know, if this Surion would entertain questions or am I best off paying attention and staying quiet?
[His advice seemed sound so far.]
No worries! Work has been getting to me, too. I can ping the mods for Surion if you want!
He snorts.] He might actually get a kick out of you. [What with being a dragon and all.] He should be around the sanctum somewhere. We could likely find him.
Sure! We can be off to see the wiza--er, mage
Hm, I don't see why not, if you don't mind terribly. I did interrupt your ... trek, I wouldn't want to keep you from it if it's important.
[There's something oddly sincere in that statement, where there might otherwise be mocking derision. As far as Cynder knows he had a good reason to be going in circles, she just didn't grasp it because she was too young!]
dropped them a line!
Not at all, I haven't seen the Dragon Mage lately, myself. Come along then.
Re: dropped them a line!
Having a tally of how many mouths there will be to feed might not be a bad thing, but his intentions might not be so benign. It's probably for the best she's not aware, it would lead to even more questions.]
... Well, alright.
[She rises back to her full(comparatively small) height, content to follow the Master and see where he might lead. He knew the way, she didn't.]
I was out of town, but hello :)
He heard them coming, which is probably why he doesn't look surprised. He pulls away from his project and greets his visitors with a smile, polite and distant as always.]
Greetings. What is it you require of me, dragonsworn?
and I totally forgot I now need to track the thread
Oh, nothing much, just an ever-curious new arrival. A dragon, even. [He nods down at Cynder and then smirks at Surion.] Thought she belonged here at first. Cynder, Surion. Surion, Cynder.
no subject
Cynder doesn't say so, but it's definitely the most noticeable thing right away. Another human-like shape, just thinner, taller, more fine-boned and pointier eared. Cautiously the little dragon sniffs in his direction, but doesn't actually approach too close. Unknowns were not things to disturb the personal space of, after all. So far the not-human Timelord was a better known thing, and even him, barely.]
Hello. ... Are we allowed to require things of you?
[It might be an odd question, and it's ventured carefully in the wake of the Master's introduction.]
sorry for the delay, I got sick after I got back fjdklsfjksldfsdsf
[He may smell familiar-- he was the one who gave her the brief talk before she was deposited in the sanctum. Though, he was hooded then. He carries the scent of ash and cinders. He smells, well, like a dragon.]
It is a pleasure to meet you properly, Cynder. [He bows slightly, but not too far.] You may ask whatever you like-- I am here to facilitate the relationship between dragons and dragonsworn. There are some requests I cannot grant, as there are limits to even my power, but I will do what I can to make you comfortable here. It is my hope that I can arm you as well, so that you may fight alongside us.
no subject
For the moment, he keeps quiet and remains, though he could easily slide off, or maybe take a trip outside of the sanctum.
Instead, he sticks around, listening for anything that he might be able to make use of another time.
Knowledge is power, after all.]
no subject
When he bows, she manages to return the gesture - but it's a bit different, front end low, wings briefly splayed outwards; it might be inelegant except she manages to make it fairly smooth. Politeness gains politeness, and her deference is prompt. He's older than she is.
The Master's quiet doesn't go unnoticed, but other than turning a bit to look and see if he's still there, she says nothing about it.]
It's a little weird to think I might need an interpreter when dealing with other dragons, but the culture at least is probably going to be really different. I am thankful for your help.
[Time will tell how different these dragons are from her own! Mentioning of being armed draws a faint frown and a flexing of one clawed forepaw. She'd never considered using weapons beyond what she'd been hatched with..]
What ... sort of weaponry or armor would work for a dragon? I'm ...used to relying on my scales, teeth and claws.
no subject
[Dragons can totally wear armor though. He's thinking.] A breastplate may help you, as long as it's made from a material that won't bog you down too much. The smaller dragons have softer scales due to their age, though of course, yours may be different. We could make you talon-sheaths...
[His eyes shift back to the Master.]
Thank you for bringing Cynder to me. Is there anything you need, personally?
no subject
...
Busted.
He grins.]
Actually, there is. I have a few questions, but perhaps another time. [Which really is for Surion's benefit, even if the Dragon Mage may not realize it. He doubts Surion wants others to hear the Master asking about "Neltharion the Earth-Warder" and what changed with that (though the Master has a pretty good idea).]
no subject
If it did, she was in very dangerous territory and would have to watch her step far, far more than she'd hoped for. Sharp tempers and volatile minds made for dangerous combinations.]
I ... see. I'll be sure to avoid as many as I can.
[She'll observe though, from whatever she thinks is a safe distance, perhaps under the cloaking effects of Stealth. Watching, listening and waiting may give her an idea of which ones are safe to approach. It figured.. she finally finds a friendship with her own kind, then gets dragged to a foreign world full of dragons ... and the ones she was to stay with were mad.]
I will.. have to see how tough my scales are in comparison to the armor of this place, I guess..
[Not that she was looking forward to it, because as far as Cynder is concerned there's really only one way to find that sort of thing out. Her head swivels again as the Master is addressed, then looks back to Surion. ... Then back to the Master.]
I can step away if you'd like, then you can speak freely. I have ... a lot to think about.
[Polite still. If the Master had questions of his own but didn't want to share them she wouldn't be nosy. Not yet, not while she's still fairly sure he's a Nice Guy. That would just be rude.]
no subject
He eyes the Master somewhat curiously, but doesn't volunteer a choice.]
no subject
He smiles lopsidedly at Cynder.]
If you don't mind, dear.
no subject
Cynder nods anyway, casting a glance back the way she'd come. She'll have to do her watching carefully.]
Thank you, I'll keep that in mind.
[She would have to be very careful. As the Master decides he'd prefer a discreet conversation, the little black dragon headbobs lightly. She might be curious but not so much where she'll deliberately annoy a tenative ally.]
Alright. Thank you both for your advice, I really appreciate it.
[But as privacy is needed, she has no issue at all with turning and pattering back the way she'd originally come from. Maybe the nook she'd found herself in would make a decent home if she dug a bit.]
no subject
You had some questions for me?
no subject
[Probably the same thing that changes most beings. A lust for power.
Still. He has to know (a lust for knowledge).
He doesn't grin like he wants to, but he keeps his voice and expression straight and calm.]
no subject
My, my. Where did you hear that name? I am most curious, you see, as no one-- and I mean no one-- calls my master by that name.
no subject
No one, you say? I think someone still does--even if, you could say, she "knows better." [Now he chances a small, almost wolfish grin.] A certain Aspect of the Red Dragonflight.
no subject
How on earth did you get an audience with the Dragonqueen? One might even accuse you of treason. That would be so unfortunate. You might want to keep your voice down, I think...
no subject
Didn't you know? I thought all you Dragon Mages were in the loop on these sorts of things. The redsworn threw a big ol' party at their Sanctum. I just happened to stumble across the "Dragonqueen," as you call her.
[Though even if he had no intention of treason (yet), there is a tiny stray thought of worry in his mind. He doesn't let it show. He can't afford to.]
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