With Te snoozing as she floats next to me, I glance at Induul. He shrugs as he itches his left arm with the knuckles on his right hand. I’ve seen him doing that off and on for hours now. I suppose it’s better than using his rather sharp-seeming nails, since his arm would be bloody by now with all the scratching he’s been doing. I have no idea how to keep the guy company and keep his mind occupied for a solid week straight with no sleep.
Figuring it’s best to accomplish something, I invite Indy along as I float Teuila and myself down towards Mount Verdimenn. I’ll take a look over some of the things therein, but I’m already so sleepy that I don’t think I’ll be making any in-depth analyses of the various runes. I just have to sincerely hope that Induul passes out at some point before the twenty-sixth when I need to assault Vorzog’s keep, so that I can get a nap, and be prepared for it. Perhaps to also leave him behind while I take it down.
Induul hooks his thumbs in his belt, and rocks back and forth. His cravings and agitation leave him performing all manner of odd antisocial motions. Many of them are similar to signs of introvertedness, an odd thing to display for the cocky, self-assured, social-power-dynamic-ploying Indy. Others though are clear displays of the withdrawal symptoms as I know them from my Fakeworld databank of memories. Hm, speaking of Fakeworld.
I withdraw the smartphone, and I stare down at it, teary-eyed. This thing breaks me emotionally in a lot of ways. I don’t understand it. Computers and electronics and all of that stuff was just supposed to be some bug in the system of our world, of Can’Z’aas. It shouldn’t be real, it can’t be real, but I’m holding a smartphone, one I even recognize the approximate year of its release. Induul asks what I’m looking up and what’s got me looking so distraught, but I can’t really explain to him how I’m feeling about this object.
It’s powerful, in a lot of ways. I’m like some sort of modern Yankee in some king’s court. If I weren’t already fairly decent with arithmetic, its calculation powers alone would be astounding. Even without a network to connect to, its ability to capture pictures, and take notes, they’re just, it just doesn’t make sense. It’s like a dozen magical artifacts stuffed into a barely larger than palm-sized quarter-inch thin slate. Hell, it can record, and has a directional microphone, so it could possibly be used for snooping and spying if I were so inclined.
Shaking my head at Induul’s question of, “What’s eating you about that thing?” I’m still at a loss for words.
I just bonded, wed, got married to an ancient, nearly divine being, the eldest living dragon on Rayileklia. Rayileklia’s a world that seems to be approximately equivalent to perhaps Fakeworld’s fourteenth or fifteenth century, with the dwarves being ahead in craftsmanship and inventiveness in the way of arms and weapons by nearly a century or more. I should find a way to get word to the Derbrightmine Dominion that we’re fighting back, that we can avenge Don and Paulette, or perhaps even rescue them from their icy entombment if they aren’t dead within its enchanted prison.
The idea of contacting them leaves me musing about what they’d think about me reaching out to them. The dwarves wouldn’t be people that I’d want to put on the front lines of a war where so many of the forces are capable of scorching the lands for vast distances. Still, if I could have them and the Aasimovian refugees work together, it’d be a great boon for all involved. The Aasimovians should definitely dig in, with the kobolds, in the ruins of Jeegoobotstan.
Hell, has it really only been about a month since we parted ways with Tiktik and the refugees? It feels like a lifetime since our—. Blinking back tears, I find myself hoping beyond hope that this war doesn’t reach them, that Tiktik doesn’t have to fight to protect the refugees, that the hares, the refugees, the kobolds, and the few remaining Plains Colossi are all able to make it through this unscathed.
Indy frowns at my wordlessness, since he needs me to distract him from his cravings, so I try to make small talk, something I’m notoriously bad at, “I ah, haven’t been alive all that long on this world, or on the world I’m from either, for that matter. What about you Indy? How many seasons have you seen come and pass?”
Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Induul grumps, “First, don’t call me that. Second, do you have any idea how hard it is to gauge the passage of time when you live inside a mountain on a world where a storm literally never ends? You’re horrible at this Schism.”
Blushing and casting my gaze aside, I nod as I mutter, “I know, it’s something I try to avoid. Talking to anyone that isn’t in my inner circle.”
Grumpily, Indy pries, “Yeah, I noticed that with you and the scrawny Red. She, well, they,” he pauses for the briefest of moment to mutter, “sorry I guess,” before continuing, “seemed even worse than you, and that’s saying a lot. Single syllable sentences whenever possible, no concept of personal space, eye contact was completely random. You at least have some social graces.”
Frowning, now grumpy myself, defensively-for-Xayla, I deride Induul, “Zazie, erm, Xayla is going through some pretty rough stuff. I don’t know what they were like before they were traumatized, but it’s not really fair to criticize them for how they’re coping, or not coping. Y’know, pot and kettle and all.”
Somewhat stricken, though perhaps mostly humorously-so, Indy mutters, “Touche Schism, touche.”
Returning to blushing, I scratch the back of my head as I try to steer the conversation towards less hurtful topics, “An—, anyway, um. Yes, you’re right, I’m horrible at speaking to others. I do have some small sense of what it might be like to live on this world, having been living here all of this particular life, however short that may have been. I was just curious if—. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, we’re almost to Mount Verdimenn. You think you can handle being around a bunch of volatile, uncategorized magical artifacts and equipment?”
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Scoffing barely half a laugh, Indy’s response is as expected, “What, you think I’ll smoke or snort the first thing I get my hands on?”
I can’t help laughing a bit at that myself, not having meant it that way. I figure I’d better smooth things over, “Not exactly what I meant. You’re a bit erratic, emotionally and physically, I don’t want you bumping into something that turns you into a potted plant or something.”
Raising an eyebrow in suspicion, Induul calls me on my response, “You’re bluffing. There couldn’t be anything like that in your hoard. Could there?”
Shrugging, I half chuckle, hoping that Induul is at least slightly mollified for the moment. I sigh and rest my head wearily against Teuila’s floating form as I try not to lament how I’m not spending my night in bed with those that I love the most, after such an eventful day. As far as I know, it might just be Kinzul, Farzhis, and Prinrin in bed together right now. Teuila’s here with me, Lil was trying to confess his feelings to Ixeyla, and Luni was going to coach him on that.
Sighing deeply yet again, I notice a scroll case and a note leaned up against my vault door when we finally arrive at the rear of our Mount Verdimenn projects. Hm, apparently Atter had either been by, or had someone drop this off for her. Let’s see what it says.
“Schism, Reggie, friend, hero, whatever the hell I should call you,
Thanks for loaning us this, for saving us, for saving them, for introducing me to that right nice Boetah fellow, for everything really. Conjugation will take a couple of weeks with a clutch this size, and I’ll be spending that in Boetah’s quarters, but if there’s anything I can do at all, anything you need to talk to me about, about my kinsmen, or anything, please stop by.
Humbly yours,
Loud”
Huh, I thought conjugation was some sort of euphemism for a sex-practice. I mean, I guess it could still be. I wasn’t exactly sure how conjugation took viable eggs from just viable eggs to a fertilized state though. I raise my eyebrows as a mumble, “Conjugation can take a couple of weeks? That uh, seems odd.”
Rolling his eyes, Indy queries, “What’s odd about it? Most will take in only a single egg at a time to soak, and generally let it remain for about a day for the best chances. Even if someone’s fairly sure some of the eggs are past the viable stage, most can’t help trying anyway.”
Take a single egg to soak? That —. Oh. OH! Jeeze. No wonder Shiz was uncomfortable talking about the specifics around me. Yeesh. I hadn’t thought about how exactly they get fertilized. I know the eggs, once fertile, are supposed to be in a warm sandy environment, a hatching-grounds, until they hatch. Before that though? Yeah, I guess it makes sense that they need to, erm, fertilize in—. I’m going to stop thinking about this.
The whelps, the little dragonlings, are a mixture of infants in the way that humanoids would think of them, and progeny of an animal species. That is, that they are somewhat capable of actions like walking or gliding or chewing or even belching flame or other elements, almost immediately after hatching.
So the egg-layer, or someone, has to, erm, keep each egg in a sort of a bath of—. This topic is just too awkward. I guess I now also understand sort of why the rumors are that Terrorzin has breeding queens that he forces to take in the eggs, somewhat literally. Dragons do temporarily take an egg back into themselves to, erm, conjugate. Jeeze. I wonder if it’s the same for clutching-capable Draconiacs. Musing to myself, I suppose there’s one person I could ask about the topic. That’d be Ahliyui, but that seems like asking for trouble in a lot of ways that I don’t need.
I wouldn’t want Yui thinking I’m coming on to her, or trying to mate with her. Not that she’s not an absolutely lovely lady. Also it’s not like I haven’t already sort of let myself romantically entangle with a Draconiac. One absolutely, utterly gorgeous, smooth-scaled, supple, slate-gray Draconiac who often wears tight-fitted leathers and—. Erm, I’m sidetracking myself. What was I trying to think about?
Oh, right, reasons approaching Ahliyui about the specifics of clutching in Draconiacs would be bad. Plus, with all the propaganda, she might not even know or be a hundred percent certain exactly what the process should be like. Draconiacs aren’t supposed to be able to clutch at all any more. Or conjugate, or something along those lines anyway. Anyway, I don’t want her feeling like her captor is trying to get her to um, clutch for us or conjugate with her or anything repulsive like that. The power dynamic just makes any sort of mating between us just utterly awful. Erm, not that I think we’re going to mate, or would have had any reason to, or that I would have had any of her interest whatsoever. Friggin’ hell Reggie. Just shut up.
I facepalm, which earns me a raised eyebrow from Induul, and my steaming face probably tells him enough about where my mind is at to cement my embarrassment. Hell, with the topic I’d just been asking about, unintentionally at least, he’s probably got a pretty accurate guess, though less likely who my mind had accidentally wandered towards. My squirrelly, circuitous mind. Why did it even start to think about Yui in that way anyway? Oh! Right! Because Prinrin exposed a secret, that she’s capable of clutching, and has already done so once, and may be about to lay another clutch. She might be the only living Draconiac capable of doing so in Mount Solace. Maybe. It’s not like I’ve met every single one of them.
I mean, I suppose I could try to meet everyone in Mount Solace, if I’m supposed to represent them all. Yeah, that’d go over great, “So, Hero, why are you meeting with everyone in Mount Solace?” “Oh you know, so that I can ask each of you if you’re capable of mating, and what that process is like for you.” Brain. Mhm? Shut up. Heh.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I shake my head at my own brain before glancing towards Induul and offering a half-hearted shrug. Packing up my portable hole, I realize I should probably get a change of clothing, and do something about the—. Why didn’t I just prestidigitatively clean the clothing? I facepalm once again. I mastered the spell so that—. Oh, right, I wasn’t sure how many S P I was going to need during the evening for things that I wanted to try. It’d have been frivolous to expend them on something I could do with a few seconds in a wash basin.
Induul simply shakes his head at me after clucking his tongue, realizing just how airheaded I am, even without listening to my internal monologue. The fact that I obviously have my own mental struggles with constant realizations that are facepalm-worthy probably spell out plenty about my character for him. Not that we haven’t already had several hours of joking at my expense, with him and Teuila doing most of the chatting earlier.
Right, anyway, let’s see what we can do here while we’re stuck being awake anyway, shall we?