Teuila continues to tease me about the things that are deeply personal as she pretends to grump, “You know, my hindquarters are pretty firm too, and I don’t hear you thinking about them like that.”
Blushing, I flash Teuila a glare, but neither of us can keep a straight face as we start giggling in our private personal thinkspace. Te is right though, every last bit of her is firm, smooth, supple, yielding in only the —. Damnit Te. Am I going to be like this permanently? Is it going to start coming out every time I think of Luni, Kinzul, Lil, Alanea, Tiktik, Linti, and everyone else too?
Teuila bites her lips as her cheeks puff with laughter. Her attempt to keep a straight face fails as she shrugs while responding, “I’unno love. My poor Airhead, hehe. To be fair, I think you were already thinking like that about Kinzul before I ever accidentally whammied you. You were on about her perfect features, like they were carved from marble, her statuesque physique, something about cascades of hair, fierce intellect shining in her eyes, and when you were thinking about the shapes and curves of her form, you barely managed to not think about her tatas.”
I gulp, flustered to high heavens, glad that we’re in a private thinkspace channel so that Kinzul *can’t* have heard Teuila’s comment. Teuila adds, “So yeah, maybe it’s dragonforce, making you all observant in a way that seems lusty and pervy or something. Or maybe Kinzul really is just a megababe, and you couldn’t help noticing, but then I whammied you, so now you’re second guessing every observation you make. I mean, I gotta be honest, Lil’s mom has got it going on, so I can’t blame you for scoping her out, even if you weren’t whammied at the time.”
Laughter burbles up, nervously at first, until it’s bursting forth so much that my telepathic avatar ends up coughing between laughs. I groan while shaking my head incredulously with a smile that’s wide to my eyes. Shaking my head at her, I chide, “You’re unbelievable Te, completely unbelievable.”
Teuila blows a raspberry before teasing, “You better believe I am,” as she winks before adding, “besides, I don’t hear you denying that Lil’s mom is a megababe.”
Blushing, I really want to say screw you to Teuila, but our teasing has never been quite that hostile-sounding, and I’d feel horrible if I hurt her feelings while playing along with her teasing.
Te, obviously able to hear my thoughts, quips, “Go for it Air. I trust you, I can feel what you want to send when you say something. As— as long as you don’t hate me, just be you. If things grow, or change, maybe a bit more heated or hostile sounding or snippy or soft or cutesie, whatever you want, you can let yourself grow and change. It’s okay. As, glp, as long as we’re okay, it’s okay.”
My heart catches, pausing for a moment, both worried for, and in awe of Teuila. The simultaneously mature sentiment, and its romantic subtext are plain as day. There’s also not-so-subtle worry about our relationship that hints at her desire for the forever we’d spoken of, and some of the millions of reminders I get per day why I’ve been in love with Teuila for as long as I have, and always will be.
Teuila regains her composure to tease, “Anyway, like I said, you were thinking things kinda like legs for days, impeccable skin that you could not help blushing about the mere sight of, let alone how you felt about feeling her up, staring at her neck, all signs to you agreeing with me that Kinzul’s a megababe.”
I snort a laugh while shaking my head, allowing myself to respond, “Screw you babe.”
Teuila beams me her mad-as-a-hatter closed-eyed mile-wide smile, grinning like a loon, sounding her single elongated squee of glee, the Shellcracker Family Squee as she rocks her head side to side. She is far too proud of herself for being able to egg me on, but she knows every button to push, every topic to chase, every last thing about me, to my very core, and I absolutely love her for it.
I can’t help smiling in return as my telepathic avatar takes hers in its arms once more for the briefest of moments, before drawing back and placing one hand gently across the entirety of her face, intentionally obscuring her goofy grin. She chases that hand away with hers, so I let my left hand obscure her face. She then chases my left hand away, and I repeat with my other hand, and we repeat this, on and on for a good half minute, giggling the whole while. The Shellcracker Family Slap Fight is almost a tradition at this point.
Teuila’s telepathic avatar wraps mine up in her arms, lays its head on my chest, and she looses a long sigh of contentment, ending in vocalizing a drawn out, “Mmm.”
I sigh contentedly as well, breathing through only my nose, at least in our private thinkspace. My physical body sighs out loud after a deep breath that’s almost a yawn, leaving me blushing at my lack of poise, especially since my stomach rumbles immediately after.
I can sense Kinzul giving Lil instructions, though they’re in a private telepathic wavelength, so I’m about to retreat into thinkspace with Luni. Only, Lil suddenly telepathically whispers to me, “Come on Rej, I gotta introduce you to Ixeyla and Xayla. Remember, don’t tell her how I told you how hot she is, and cool she is, and, and stuff.”
Grateful for the chance to stretch my legs, and to maybe find something to eat, hoping for something other than literal rocks and dirt, I follow Lil as we circle around the outer ring of the table that makes up a seemingly concentric circle within the cavern. Lil adopts his human form, and asks me to straighten out his appearance. I chuckle and help my best bud as best as I know how, before he thankfully leads me into an almost entirely hidden side-tunnel, removing us from the near deafening sound of the grinding of stone between reptilian teeth amidst the many powerful jaws within the feasting hall. To keep my poise, I had to ignore my auditory senses entirely while I was within.
To say that I’m surprised by Lil’s description of the twins would be underselling the current state of my mind. Two, rather red-toned in flesh, humans, stand a fair few meters down this tunnel, avoiding the din of the crowded feasting hall. They’re both about five foot seven, but they’re gangly, as if they’d been stretched like taffy. There’s an almost uncanny-valley nature to their appearance. Their almost identical facial features aren’t conventionally attractive per se, with slightly bulbous noses, and too-thin lips situated too far from their chins, but they’re still comely in a fashion.
The two dragons in human form wear what could almost be confused for jeans and t-shirts, only the clothing is comprised of scalesilk, their dragon-scales molded for their human form. Each of the twins is also adorned with a mass of hair. Their curly brown hair is worn in different styles upon each of their heads. The meek, glasses-wearing twin has a wild poof of curls that sits almost like an afro, only there are so many of the thick, curly locks of hair out of place, that instead of simply framing her face, it also obscures it. The smiling twin wears her curls in a sort of regal fashion, in large spiral locks that hang down to her shoulders, framing the entirety of her face and head.
The two young women are leaning along the wall in a way that shows the meek one is getting affectionate support from the more assured, happier one. The standing one has her right hand resting on the right shoulder of the other, and her left forearm pressed against the other’s bicep, leaning close enough to smoosh their cheeks together. I take it that the outgoing one is Ixeyla, while Xayla is the other. Also, now that I remember what Lil said about them, I need to mentally refer to Xayla with neutral pronouns. They’re like me in that regard, even if they’ve laid eggs.
Lil chirps telepathically, “Yep yep! They’re good peeps, you’ll like them Rej, they’re real shy, don’t like crowds, and other stuff a lot like you. Ixeyla though, mm she’s so dreamy in her dragon form. I dunno anything about human forms, but I couldn’t care less, she’s still super pretty to me. Don’t tell her though!”
I struggle to hide the smile that I’m fighting in response to Lil’s telepathic assertions, which leaves my face contorted into a very confusing expression, which I’m sure reads awkwardly to the twins regarding our approach.
Ixeyla, with a slightly cracked-toned voice, calls out completely unsubtlely, “Hey Lil,” extending each of the two words with an almost teasing lilt.
I continue to fight my smile, laughing only privately to myself, silently. My face is still half contorted as I raise a brow towards Lil, whom at this point, is appearing almost braindead, lost to the world, as he gazes dreamily at Ixeyla. He’s completely oblivious, lost in his own personal world as he stares at her, and doesn’t even stand a chance of recognizing the obvious attraction in Ixeyla’s tone. I mentally facepalm, and can’t fight the smile any longer as I blush and silently chuckle. My Lil buddy is going to have no problems getting off the ground in the romance department with that particular target of his affection. She’s just waiting for him to admit it. I shake my head in mild incredulity.
Ixeyla flashes a glance with an upward flick of her brow to Xayla who offers her a shrug. I take it she was silently asking if Xayla would be okay with me while she took Lil aside for some private time together. My instincts seem to hold true, because she motions ‘come hither’ to Lil, and Lil follows obediently, barely responsive to anything other than Ixeyla.
Xayla shoots me the merest upward nod of recognition, acknowledging my presence, but they remain hunched inward on themselves, their arms crossed, as they leans against the wall, barely supported by something beneath their thigh, a bench apparently. I gnaw on my lip, unsure if they’d prefer to remain in silence, so I return the nod with a slightly downward flick of my head.
Still having muscles twitching and spasming, and needing a good stretch, I stand back for a moment, stretching, before figuring I can at least mirror Xayla. I’m a bit exhausted and definitely don’t want to simply stand here. There’s the bench that Xayla is only partially using. The awkward lean that leaves such a minimal point of contact with the bench is a byproduct of their gangly form. They’ve simultaneously slouched, and tense posture, as they leave their legs stretched out ramrod straight at about a thirty degree angle from the floor, leaving only a bit of thigh connecting with the edge of the bench for support. I decide to rest my muscles, sitting on the far edge of the bench from Xayla, to give them space, and they still reactively scooch further away when I’ve taken a seat.
I blush and break our silence to apologize, “I’m, um, sorry, didn’t mean to invade your bubble.”
I can see Xayla mouthing the word bubble, trying to parse the meaning, which I guess means it’s an unfamiliar expression. Do people not have personal bubbles in the Onyx Dawn? Or maybe at all on Rayileklia? Come to think of it, most people do stand incredibly close to communicate, and seem to have no problem laying hands on one another, for good or ill. Regardless, an instant after they parse the phrase, Xayla furrows their brows at me, almost glaring, coming off as seeming more upset at my breaking the silence than my closeness. I gulp and wear a startled, apologetic expression. As if to emphasize the point, that they care less about my physical presence, than about the silence, they scooch back to their original position, ever so slightly closer to me.
We sit in awkward silence for a while yet, so I train my gaze straight ahead, at the bare wall on the other side of this tunnel hall. I feel awkward as hell, and wonder if I should just go back to the feasting hall so I can start getting acquainted with members and agents of the Order, when there’s the tiniest hint of scraping, a minute edging movement. My silent sonar sense tells me that Xayla moved approximately an inch closer, but, like me, is staring straight across the hall at the wall.
I gnaw on my lip as I ponder this infinitesimal indication of trust, or acceptance, or whatever it is, when Xayla slouches a bit further, no longer propping themselves with their thigh, but now their nearly non-existent butt. In that same motion, they lean ever so slightly my direction. They remain perched at the ungainly angle for some time, before once again scooching an inch or two my way, righting themselves.
Curious to see where this goes, I remain still, and silent, as I link my hands with my fingers, resting my elbows near my knees. I actually twiddle my thumbs, unsure of what else to do with myself. I’d like to build trust with everyone in the order, but if it’s all going to be like Nala, and Errissa, and Xayla, where it’s an involved, awkward, possibly incredibly-time-consuming, possibly confusing process, the war for Rayileklia might be over before I get the chance. Still, after another minute or two, Xayla performs a couple more of their awkward leans that result in them needing to scooch closer.
Finally, when Xayla’s in what I’d consider *my* personal bubble, they whisper, “Hi.”
Not wanting to spook them, I nod while trying to make eye contact with the face that’s leaned almost ear to ear with me. I raise an eyebrow curiously, a silent query for them to determine the pace and flow. It’s incredibly awkward, and probably uncomfortable for them to be learning at such an angle, but it does provide obscurement for their face with their mass of curly hair. The curly hair is a pleasant texture, but having it bouncing around, swatting me in the face with every breath or movement is not exactly what I want in my personal space.
Xayla, still whispering, asks, “Wanna talk?”
Still unsure if they’re comfortable with me breaking the silence, I ask, “Can we? Can I?”
Xayla nods meekly before they ask, “So, Hero huh? Lotta pressure?”
At that, I can’t help laughing. I wince as Xayla seems startled by the sudden outburst, but I try to keep my response lighthearted, “Hah, erm, yes actually, I suppose there is. Lady Kinzul said she’d be deploying me in almost every offensive, or engagement. I’m intimidated as all hell that we’re going out as a vanguard, together, but, well, it’s not really new to me.”
Xayla furrows one brow and raises the other, so I clarify, “I’ve um, stared down the barrel of the apocalypse in a few ways, in a few places, and I’m still standing, more or less. I had to hold my own against hordes of foes several different times in my life. Gods I sound like I’m bragging, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.”
The faintest hint of a smile flashes across Xayla’s plain, slightly comely features, their slightly bulbous nose wriggles at the motion of their too-thin lips. I feel displeasure with myself, wondering how much my notice of other people’s physical features are the effects of Teuila’s Latent. Am I going to be comparing everyone from now on? Will I compare them all to the ethereal beauty that is the shining silver orbs of Errissa’s eyes, or the statuesque, onyx perfection that is Lady Kinzul’s form? Gak. Hell’s bells.
While I’m grousing mentally to myself, Xayla asks, “You’re not really a dragon?”
I flash a sad half smile as I nod their way, answering, “Yeah, not really. It’s apparently costing Kinzul a lot to present me as one. I do have my own dragonforce though, for now. If I run out, I die. Maybe that’s true for all dragons, I dunno, but mine’s bleeding away to keep me alive from something else.”
Xayla’s response is to tilt their head at a wild angle in curiosity, somewhat akin to a dog. Their hair flops in a way that completely obscures their face from the motion, swatting me with a mass of curls, as they respond, “Yes. I would die too. If mine was gone.”
I gnaw on my lips, feeling like a downer for having brought the conversation around to death. Perhaps sensing that, Xayla adds, “Sorry. That you’re dying.”
I offer a half shrug and weak smile as I respond, “Who isn’t though, really? Mine is just a bit closer than the rest of us.”
That prompts yet another barely noticeable smile from Xayla. They ask, “Does it help?”
Pondering a moment about what it could be, I realize their meaning, and answer, “Yeah, the war, the fighting, the responsibility. Takes my mind off of things, and gives me a chance at more dragonforces. If I get enough of them, fifteen or so, supposedly I can cure what’s killing me.”
Xayla, deadpan, asks, “Do you want mine?”
I flash them a stricken look of horror, gulping and stuttering as I respond, “Wh-what? N-no! Of course not! I’d, I’d—. I already wanted to never ever, ever kill a dragon in my life. My best friend for all my life is Lil, y’know? I, I’ll just take the ones from the enemies I slay in the course of the war.”
There’s an unconcerned shrug as Xayla simply says, “Kay.”
Feeling overwhelmed, but realizing the state Xayla seems to be in overall, I ask, “Are, um, are you— going to be okay? If you need anything, anything at all.” I let the offer hang in the air, not finishing my statement.
A neutral expression of being lost in thought spreads across Xayla’s features before they respond, still whispering, as they have been the entire time, “Talking’s nice. With you. At my pace. Thanks for being patient, and quiet.”
Realizing that Xayla offers few words at the best of times, and this has been the most words they’ve spoken yet, I blush, recalling that I’d raised my voice a bit above a whisper when they’d offered me their dragonforce. Xayla stares at me calmly, unconcerned, and comments, “Pretty color.”
I blush more furiously, realizing Xayla’s either talking about my blush, or my hair, either one, as they, like Lil, are a red dragon. I mutter, “Ah, um, thanks. Do you—,” before I can ask, do anything for fun, Xayla stands up, eerily stiff, as if floating to an upright position, while remaining hunched in on themselves.
Xayla stretches for a bit, leans uncomfortably close to my ear and asks, “Want food?”
My stomach rumbles in response, and another rare smile crosses Xayla’s face as they offer me a hand to help me stand. I flash them a smile in response, and they add, “Not-dragon food.”
I loose a sigh of relief while my shoulders droop and accidentally mutter, “Oh thank gods.”
Xayla’s form shakes ever so slightly as they laugh, and I can’t help laughing at myself as well, each of us only briefly chuckling, almost silently. Xayla’s spindly limbs begin leading us away, while they keep my hand held in theirs. Xayla manages to lean so far backwards while walking forwards, that I’d think they were trying to prepare for a limbo tournament. It’s fairly clear that they are very unused to being in a human form, or are maybe just bad at it. I’m trying not to pass poor judgment on Xayla for their odd mannerisms, because they seem honestly very nice, enjoyable company, if a little despondent.
I feel more than a little like a dog being walked, led about on a leash. For Xayla, the contact with my hand seems only to serve to guide me, as we approach what must be a larder, after several inconspicuous turns. I will say, some of the tunnel turns are hard to spot, when the texture of the smooth stone walls are virtually identical from surface to surface. I’ve other senses than sight though, so Xayla needn’t have worried. Still, I suppose I should be flattered at the concern. Maybe. Or perhaps I should be insulted at being treated somewhere between like an animal, and like a child.
As we enter what must be the larder, Xayla states, “Second favorite place. Personal space.”
I nod in understanding as I gaze about inside the chamber. This is a nice room, there’s a waist-high ledge around a tiny spring that burbles with crystal clear water, it’s obviously been intentionally diverted from the Medusa Falls, as it’s carved stonework, with a perfectly chiseled cubical path towards the surface where the water flows in. Water flows outwards down the mountain as well, into those little irrigation troughs I’d seen. Come to think of it, each of the couple rooms I saw that had them had two troughs. One for clean, one for outgoing?
Barrels stand hip-height, filled with either water, or perhaps fermenting grains, because there are hundreds of large sacks of flour as well. There are collections of gemstones in baskets, and thinly sliced blocks of marble, and other stones. I can see large blocks of salt-crystals, and similar rocks, with pre-grinded granules sitting in masses beneath them, and what actually looks like about half a cow’s worth of salted jerky. My lips water at the sight of the meat, but I’m not sure if I should go for it, since it seems far more limited than the grains.
Still, I’m not quite sure what to do with this. There are pots, pans, and a few odds and ends, as well as jars that seem to contain preserves, or jams. A shelf carved into one surface has a simplistic valve in front of it, a rack atop it, and several perforations in its surface. I get the sense that the valve would release a gas. Xayla grabs several implements, and handfuls of flour in a pot. They fill a larger pot with water, set it over the shelf with the valve on a rack, open the valve, and blow a tiny flame beneath the pot, starting a gas-fire like a stovetop.
Xayla hands me two smaller pots, one with water, and one with flour, and demonstrates making small mounds of flour with a bit of salt, wetting them, and balling them up. Once they’re firmly balled, Xayla sets them in a batch nearby. I follow suit, making these odd little dough balls, until we have a fairly large stack of them, and the water is boiling. Xayla carefully tosses our dough balls into the boiling water. Xayla remains silent all the while.
Sensing my confusion, or perhaps just to make conversation, Xayla states, “Almost done.”
With that, Xayla carefully strains the boiling water into the end of the spring that seems to circulate further into Mount Solace. Xayla sits on the ledge of the spring, angled almost impossibly to their right. Pointing to a large white rock, that looks mostly like a salt crystal, but somehow different, Xayla indicates the granules already shaved off from it and says, “Sweetstone, bring some.”
I scoop a large helping of the granulated sweetstone into the dry pot I’d had flour in earlier, and bring it to Xayla, who dumps it wholesale into the pot with our dough balls in it. They cover the pot with its lid, and begin vigorously shaking it. After a few moments, they dump our now sweetstone covered dough blobs onto the same shelf they’re sitting on, next to the spring, and my stomach rumbles upon seeing them. Xayla picks one up, tosses it in their mouth, and smiles my way.
Taking that as my cue, I sit on the opposite side of our pile of food, and take one dough blob for myself. Popping it into my mouth, it’s similar in consistency to a dumpling, or firm doughnut. Huh. We just made doughnuts. Really basic, and a bit salty, but not bad. I can still taste some of the sodium bicarbonate that the flour must be laced with. Some of the doughnuts have tiny packets of still-dry flour within, but for a rushed, amateur cooking job, by someone who normally eats minerals, and someone who had no idea what was going on, they’re not bad. Better, they’re filling. Best of all, they’re not rocks. I can’t stress enough, they’re good, because they’re not rocks, and I’m able to consume them.
When there are four left betwen the two of us, I pocket two, as Xayla finishes off the other two. I figure give Lu and Te one each, and let them know the supplies are available. Or maybe Luni already knows, having been living here for a few weeks or couple months. I think the Triple L Squad had to have gotten here around mid to late July, and it’s the middle of September, so they’ve been here for almost two months. Probably.
Flashing a smile towards Xayla, I offer, “Thank you, very very much.”
Xayla gives me a polite quick nod, and smiles genuinely in response. There’s a brief pause, then they ask, “Friends?”
I nod emphatically while responding, “Yes, definitely yes. Even before the food.”
Xayla goes beet-red and looks down, avoiding meeting my gaze as the corners of their lips twirl vaguely upwards in the hint of a smile. The shy dragon in human form mutters, “Thanks. Thank you. Maybe, maybe I can talk now. Can I talk now?”
I’m uncertain whether they’re asking me permission, or asking themselves if they have the confidence. I’ve got a lot of empathy for my meek friend here. That’s a heck of an introverted personality. Scratching the back of my head, blushing, and avoiding eye contact, I try to segue in a way that doesn’t make assumptions one way or another, “Uhm, what would you like to talk about?”
The gangly body of Xayla shoots upwards and stiffens ramrod straight once more. I worry that I’ve upset them by spoiling the silence if they were asking themselves about their confidence, but they don’t flee, or look angered. Instead, Xayla attempts to meet my gaze as they state with conviction, and a hint of fury underlying their voice, “How we’re going to win.”