Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

The Scholar's otherwise jovial mood dissipated in seconds as he heard the news, his expression sinking in the most transparent reflection of his thoughts anyone could have expected. "No..."

The singular word carried a weight to it that Ceridwen was quick to pick up on. Sadness permeated the Scholar's voice in that one word, and it was clear that the news had come as a shock to him.

"It was such a big city. So sturdy, so well planned. It seemed... I had thought it capable of standing up to whatever forces the mountain could unleash upon it, be it quake or tremor. To think it could have been so thoroughly destroyed... Do you know if anyone in the region spoke of any survivors? Were there any witnesses, or tales of witnesses?" asked the Son of Storms as his voice evened somewhat.

[C S]

"I could not verify any of this. A... roamer... from Thimeyra, the one that carries the life of a Hueilin, he told me that if there were any witnesses, they were long gone in search of another home. The Two Cities were abandoned outright, and none have attempted to reclaim it since. Due to heinousness of the downfall, possibly." A nagging factor that showed its head when Desrium thought back on what he saw. Speculation without proof.

"And with wild elementals to deal with... you couldn't have stuck around to investigate..." Syria reasoned, momentarily putting Alen'ta's involvement in prior happenings aside.

"Yes," Desrium confirmed. "I had... to bring them..."

Syria gave Desrium a solemn, understanding bow of her head. "And this roamer...?"

"Has roamed. I once felt his presence in Brodudika, but no longer. He did not stay long."

"Which means he could be anywhere by now," Syria mused, biting her lip.

[The Kingpin]

"I believe the matter deserves further research. Further investigation. The dead deserve to have their killer known. Be it a natural disaster or a not-so-natural one," rumbled the dragon firmly. "We owe them that much, at least."

[C S]

Desrium was static, and the others could not tell that his ever-open eyes were shifting their focus from Septimus to Syria, and back again. "You plan on going to the Cities, then," he said. "Syria?" he asked, panning his helm to face her.

"Septimus knows the magic of past-sight, but I wouldn't feel right sending him off alone to ruins. Especially if... um... things linger there..." Like Yuraelia, and the thought of that lost city made her shudder. "And it wouldn't be in good keeping, since we learned not long ago that our other friends are doing just that... even if Septimus can keep me notified every inch along the way, I can't exactly help him if I'm not with him..."

Desrium hummed. He was seconds away from pointing out that Andruil was in possession of an Eye, but her explanation was solid. Even if Andruil were to contact Septimus for aid, it would still take time at the Scholar's greatest haste for help to arrive.

"But Beshayir..." Syria bit her lip again, before her eyes slowly, and sheepishly, went to Ceridwen.

[The Kingpin]

"While I don't think it's good parenthood to leave one's young, that's just instinct talking," responded Ceridwen with a critical eye aimed at the Scholar. "I understand that you feel obligated to do this by that moral code you follow. And while I normally would dismiss it as being silly, that moral code is what saved my life," she concluded slowly. Looking between the two, she finally stated, "If you like, I will watch over Beshi while you're away. I won't be able to provide her the comfort you can. I won't be able to tuck her into a comfortable bed or anything like that... But I can watch over her. Take her to school, bring her back, take her to places to get food..."

[C S]

"You're a wonder, Ceri," said Syria as she wrapped her arms around the dragoness' neck, pressing her head and beak into her chest and midsection.

"I can see to it that you are in a more appropriate setting if you are to be Beshayir's guardian," Desrium stated. "Evisa looks after her charges in a rocky burrow. I believe you would be at ease in her company and environment."

[The Kingpin]

"I think Beshayir would like that, too. She has always had a fascination with the elements," commented the Scholar, though he was quick to add, "Assuming you'd like to stay there, of course."

"I think I would. Evisa is a pleasant person. I would enjoy being in her company," she chirped, a confused twitter trailing her statement as she blinked, trying to make sense of the odd position her head was in at the moment.

"Then I suppose it is settled. We will depart as soon as things are sorted and Beshayir has had time to speak on the matter. She deserves a say in this as well," growled Septimus. Within the satchel, coins stacked and bagged themselves into pouches as sketchbooks, textbooks and other comforts were put together in neat piles. The Scholar was already setting aside the necessary provisions for the two to be comfortable over the length of his absence.

[C S]

"I will be at the city gates after dismissal to hear of the state of affairs, and to see you off if all is set for your journey," Desrium promised while Syria released Ceridwen from the awkward position of her affection. Classes did not have long before the daily sessions were due to conclude. If they did not rush, the others would be at Septimus Place right when the students would be streaming out of the front doors to head home, or be picked up by their caregivers. Likewise, in that time, the armored being would be finished with his landscaping, free to wait for Septimus and Syria before tending to other tasks while he still had the sun. Everything else past that would go into the dead of night, and into the next morn.

[The Kingpin]

The return to the school was a routine affair, the journey passing as it often did with a few minutes of flight and a stroll through the streets of Brodudika. On their way to the school the Scholar stopped by a bakery, and made to collect some honeyed toroids for a desert after an early evening meal. As it worked out, they arrived just as the crowds of apprentice mages milled out of the academy, Beshayir in their midst beaming with joy at the productive events of the day.

[C S]

The two dragons, Septimus in elven skin, singled out the young pyromancer sooner, and from further away, than Syria was able to traveling along on her staff. When she did spot Beshayir through the dispersing screen of people, Syria tucked the bag of baked sweets under an arm so that she could wave to her. "Someone looks like she had a terrific first day back!" Syria observed with animated elation. It did not matter to her that Ceridwen and Septimus would have said something sooner if things were amiss; in that motherly way, Syria had to celebrate Beshayir's triumphs as she saw them with her own eyes.

[The Kingpin]

Beshayir made her way over through the crowd with as much dignified elegance as could be expected wading through a tide of people. The result was one that gave the Scholar a bit of a chuckle as, every now and again, she'd stumble because she couldn't see where she was walking in her descent down the steps at the entrance and across the cobblestone streets, more seasoned residents sidestepping the holes and the oversized stones in the ground with practised ease.

"I take it today's been successful?" asked Septimus when the young elf was in earshot.

"Ms. Orthelia praised my work so much!" said Beshayir energetically, her smile gaining a bit more energy where it had started to wane from the exertion of the day. "She says I invented a new kind of pyromancy, but that I need to work on my st..." she paused, thinking for a moment. What was the word again? She was tired. She had been tired since the performance. Orthelia noted that. Tired. Energy. St...stamina. "Stamina. She said I'd need to work on my stamina," she continued, the word coming to mind by association.

"You may not have the scales, but if you were able to make a new form of pyromancy, maybe there's some dragon in you after all," twittered Ceridwen, a comment that earned her an appreciative look from the Scholar. It wasn't often she would offer so grand a compliment to anyone as to compare them with dragonkind.

It was something Beshayir clearly picked up on, wrapping her arms around the dragoness's neck in an appreciative hug. "Thank you. That means a lot to me, Ceri," she said, voice muffled by the plumage that puffed up in response.

[C S]

Syria strafed over to drape her arm around Ceridwen's neck as well, a sidelong hug above Beshayir. Syria figured that there was a good chance Beshayir would fall asleep on the feathered drake if they loitered for too long, something she wasn't helping with her gesture. She felt it needed to be done nonetheless. "I owe you a feather-fluffing at the next opportunity that presents itself," Syria told Ceridwen. To Beshayir, she said, "And you need some food and rest." She put thoughts of elves and dragons out of her mind, lest she ended up contemplating the magical qualities of Septimus, Alen'ta and Beshayir.

[The Kingpin]

The dragoness twittered at the second such gesture she received that day, finding herself at a loss as to how to reciprocate it. Beshayir, sensing her discomfort, loosened her grip and made to remind Syria of such by pressing back against her. "Yes please," she asked softly. "I've had nothing but water all day. I'd like to eat something."

"Then let's not waste any time. We can grab a meal and settle somewhere comfortable," rumbled the Scholar, finding some difficulty in not stating on the spot that they would be departing that evening.

[C S]

"Here's something to tide you over until then," Syria said before she held out the canvas bag for Beshayir to reach into. "They are technically dessert, but I'd say you earned one ahead of dinner. Less likely to fall asleep while eating your dinner this way." The mage smiled gently at the young elf.

[The Kingpin]

The elf smiled, taking the toroid gratefully and taking a bite out of it swiftly, only thanking the mage after swallowing her first mouthful. "What was that you were saying the other day about me not acting like a lady?" chirped Ceridwen, eyeing the Scholar.

"It still applies. And she's hungry, so she's exempt from my criticisms for now," responded the Scholar, somewhat surprised that the dragoness was bringing this up when she had seemed not to recall anything else from that day.

"And I'm a Hueilin. I most certainly have more refined dining habits than you do in your true form," she jabbed.

"No, actually he eats surprisingly neatly for a dragon," responded Beshayir around her second mouthful of toroid. Ceridwen, feeling outnumbered, glanced at Syria for help as the group slowly departed Septimus Place...

[C S]

Orange eyes peered from the ajar door behind them as the quartet moved on, the curious onlooker making the most of her limited exposure to dragons.

Unaware of the keen eyes on them, Syria shrugged and offered, "It's all conjecture until I can verify it... somehow, but it could be that all Hueilin are well cultured creatures that have developed the utmost class to go with their specific body type. Whether they are long and thin, stocky and huge, or small and beaked." She spoke with a knowledgeable authority that went well with her penchant for study, and she paid special care to keep a flattering inflection that would satisfy Ceridwen without explicitly agreeing with her.

She ate like a dragon, after all. Not the most majestic thing to witness.

[The Kingpin]

The response was, as it turned out, enough to satisfy the dragoness. "Thank you," she chirped to the mage, before fixing the Scholar with a firm, vindicated look. "See? Even Syria thinks I'm right," she proclaimed, earning a few raised brows from attentive onlookers that she paid no mind to.

In response, the Scholar simply chuckled, deciding to let it go for now, leaving Ceridwen to look very flustered and irritated. She had no more fuel for her fire, however, so she could do no more than that for the time being.

[C S]

Syria bit the inside of her cheek so as to prevent herself from saying, I didn't say you were right, but I didn't say you were wrong either, going with Septimus' example of dropping the subject. How much of Ceridwen's persona was a persona, and not just the silly dragon wanting to fit into a storybook, she had to ask herself. A storybook in the vein of those written by ordinary people with quills, pages and time to spend. Syria bit her cheek a little harder to stop herself from chuckling.

The onlooker behind them had flinched at the fire-flyer's trumpeting gaw, and like her teacher, was wont to proceed with caution. Which meant shutting the door and not proceeding at all until the coast was well clear. And she would know when the coast was clear when she worked up the courage to open the door again. The suited man at the desk glanced up from his papers only to meet her fierce eyes in turn. She sat on the floor next to the doorway with her knees tucked into her chest and her hands resting on top of them. Her countenance was contorted into a frightful visage as a result of her start. Her mouth opened slowly, and the receptionist heard her low rasp.

Without a word, he redirected his eyes to his papers.

[The Kingpin]

It wasn't long before the group were back in their little makeshift home behind the boarding house. Huddled around a fire with a plate in each of their laps, they enjoyed a cosy, quiet meal filled with tales of the day's activities.

"Ms. Orthelia told me something interesting today. Well, not me personally, but the class," said Beshayir between a mouthful of her dinner.

"Doesn't that describe the entire lesson?" asked Ceridwen, tilting her head slightly.

"Yeah, but this was especially interesting," responded the young elf. "Did you know that pyromancy could be used to heal wounds?" she asked, looking at no one in particular.

[C S]

"Heal wounds with fire?" was the natural question Syria posed in response. "That seems... counterintuitive." The mage's gaze drifted over to Ceridwen with a puzzled look on her face. The expression spoke volumes where words escaped the lady. How did Ceridwen's mending abilities factor into pyromancy? Was she a pyromancer dragon?