Saelina felt abuzz with the news of a ball as she and Laelith entered the manor; she noticed Ezeas and Tiyala facing each other and wondered what kind of discussion they had just interrupted. Laelith seemed oblivious to the tension.
“Hey, Essy! When can I take our little dragonette shopping for a ballgown?”
She grabbed Saelina's shoulders and rustled them, playfully. Saelina found she minded the touching less, after the initial shock.
The other pair turned towards them, and while the mistress of the manor carried a sympathetic expression, her son looked fed up, though with what was anyone's guess. She had the distinct feeling that she and her companion might have picked the worst possible time to ask. When Ezeas turned towards them it became clear she would not like what he had to say.
“What are you talking about?”
Laelith furrowed her brow.
“The ball at Ivál Hastor's home. I know you got an invitation, and I think our young woman deserves her own dress, don't you?”
Ezeas walked towards them.
“It won't matter, because she's not going.”
He passed them and made his way towards the entrance.
“Ezeas, don't,” his mother pleaded.
“Wait, Ezeas!” Laelith yelled.
“You can't just decide that!”
He gave her a haughty glance and scoffed.
“I'm the one who's tasked with her handling, when I say she's not going, she's not going!”
“At least give me a reason,” Saelina said.
He hesitated, then made a frustrated noise.
“Setting aside the fact that you are not nobility. The issue remains that your background is not respectable, even when put in the most generous terms.”
He made a derisive gesture to her person.
“I won't have my entire family humiliated, because you want to feel sparkly for a night. These people won't be impressed that you know how to rummage through garbage or what to charge for a good fuck.”
Every one of his words felt like a punch, and it amazed her she had not yet buckled under the verbiage of disdain he threw at her. The words themselves were nothing. She had heard far worse from those supposed to do much better, but the tone with which he delivered them was withering and wrung her heart with each syllable.
Laelith was staring at him in shock, while sorrow and disappointment marred his mother's expression. He took the chance and used their stunned silence to leave the home, but Saelina quickly recovered.
“Oh, no you won't!”
She stomped after him, ignoring the protests of the women behind her.
And now we're chasing someone for a dramatic confrontation! Marvelous!
She refused to answer the sarcastic voice in her mind and kept looking for her target. Ezeas were walking at a brisk pace and she had to sprint to catch up with him, but eventually she caught him by the arm.
“Hey!”
He spun around, with his hands raised, only to stare when he realized who had touched him; she glared at him as hard as she could muster.
“You don't get to throw that in my face and then run away! What happened to saying I wasn't that weak? That you wouldn't fault me for surviving?”
He seemed conflicted for a moment, then his face hardened.
“This is different. Wanting you to stay alive and not wanting you to drag our family's name through the mud are not mutually exclusive.”
He turned to leave again, but she refused to soften her grip.
“I'm not done!”
You mortals are never done. Waiting for a mountain to crumble would be more productive than hoping for an incident not marred by confusion and misunderstanding.
I deserve answers and I intend to get them.
By all means, just ensure you understand the answers you receive.
Ezeas let out a groan and ripped his arm free, before grabbing hers and leading her to an empty side alley, tossing glares at the few people who had stopped to observe the argument. As soon as they were covered in shadows, he let go, spinning to face her.
“Look! This is my decision and I'm not changing it, nor am I explaining myself. You need to focus on mastering your power, how's that going, by the way?”
The mockery in his tone rubbed every bad nerve in Saelina, who let out a low hiss.
“You are so arrogant! What makes you think you'd fare much better in my place?”
He laughed, scornfully.
“You're about a hundred years too early to even think we're on the same level!”
She shoved a hand against his chest, though she had nowhere near the strength to make him budge.
“There you go again! You nyxis are stronger, faster, and just oh, so perfect! But if I had to spend half of your lifespan underestimating absolutely everyone I came across, I'd rather be a pathetic human and retain some self-awareness.”
She scrunched up the hand, which was still on his jacket, hoping her nails were causing pain, as she did so, and stepped closer, willing all the pent up fury and frustration to tear out of her body and latch on to the self-righteous man in front of her. She was only vaguely aware of the intense heat rising within her, not much caring if it were to burst forth.
“I get it. You wanted the dragon's essence and instead, you're forced to see me fumble with the power you were chasing so desperately, but I will not let you boss me around, to satisfy your warped sense of being short-changed.”
Her voice was low and filled with the full weight of her anger and she kept her glare trained on his face, reading his every movement. He smirked, but the expression was grim and bitter as he leaned his head closer.
“Is that what you think, whelp? That I'm just desperately envious of your accidental rise to power? Power, that you can't even get to work, properly?”
He laughed, but the sound was cold, almost brutally so.
“All I keep thinking is that my country and my family is fucked because the one thing which could make a difference is tied up in someone who couldn't even figure out how to save herself.”
The venom dripped off his tongue and she felt it burn itself into her soul, searing in a way she could not describe. Another wave of fire surged through her. Ezeas winced slightly under her hand and she smirked.
“What's wrong, Essy? Can't take the heat?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn't flinch. Before she could register what he was doing, Ezeas had snatched her hand off his chest and pulled her forwards, causing her to stumble. She struggled against his grip but was hopelessly stuck. He leaned in, keeping his gaze locked with hers. Yet again, she felt heat radiate through her body, but this time she was keenly aware that it was not caused by the dragon's power.
“Throw all the tantrums you want,” he said in a low voice, “you're not going, and that's final.”
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The severe tone in his voice barred any argument on the matter, as he released her wrist and walked away. Saelina was left trying to figure out what had just happened and how to cool the rivers of fire which ran through her veins. She breathed deeply, pulling her power back to its center within her. Most of the heat retreated from her extremities, though a tingling sensation remained, one with which she was familiar; she was torn between relief at still being able to feel such things and disturbance at how it had come to pass.
Please, do tell me all the answers you received in that riveting banter.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
And yet, you are.
The careful touch of someone's hand on her shoulder made her spin around to face the surprised expression of Laelith.
“You're burning up. Are you feeling alright?”
Saelina ran a hand through her thick red mane, removing a few stray curls from her face.
“It's the dragon's heat, it'll pass.”
The nyx did not look entirely convinced but dropped the issue and instead nodded in the direction Ezeas had disappeared.
“I'm guessing he didn't budge?”
“He did not.”
“There will be other balls, we just need time to soften him up to the idea.”
Saelina shook her head.
“No need. When did you want to go dress shopping?”
Ezeas rubbed his head, vigorously dreading the atmosphere which undoubtedly waited on the other side of the door. The crystals had just retracted their shards and the light from the blue vines flared up brighter in the descending darkness; at a distance, one could barely make out the dark stone structure underneath the glowing vegetation, giving the impression that the plants were growing in odd shapes.
He entered the premises, relieved to find neither of his parents in the foyer; yet the extravagant portraits of them along with those of his brothers and sister seemed to stare down upon him from their high hangings. He threw a useless glare at them, while walking past, before heading for the door between the curving staircases. He hesitated a moment, then resolutely opened it and stepped into the training room, half expecting to find it empty.
Saelina was there, staring intently on one torch, her hands outstretched towards it; she did not seem to even register his presence as he closed the door behind him. The darkness of the room was no real challenge for the highly developed vision of a nyx.
He wondered how long she had been in there. There was a spark between her hands, then darkness for a few moments and another spark; a few more sparks lit up, then a small flame appeared between her hands. Carefully, she moved her head towards the flame and blew softly at it; instead of flickering out, it grew and seemed to stretch away from its mistress and leaning towards the torch, burning ever brighter. The concentration on Saelina's face was mesmerizing as she let the blaze reach its target and the torch flared to life.
She looked at her accomplishment with pride as her arms fell down her sides and Ezeas decided to broke stillness. He gestured and all the torches caught light around the room. She turned towards him with wide eyes but otherwise showed no sign of being shocked.
“Braggart,” she mumbled.
“I'm surprised you showed. I had figured you'd be pouting in your room.”
She looked at him without amusement, then turned her attention back to the flame.
“It wouldn't accomplish anything. I still have a lot to learn and you're my teacher, whether or not I like it.”
“A practical mindset,” he noted with a raised eyebrow, then gestured to the torch.
“It seems you're improving with your powers.”
She nodded, absentmindedly.
“I'm learning things.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“My fire won't burn me.”
She slowly put her hand into the flame.
“Even when it's no longer connected to me. It won't burn the clothes I wear, either.”
She removed her hand from the fire and walked to a torch nearer to Ezeas.
“Other flames, however,” she said before plunging her hand into the blaze and wincing.
“They hurt.”
Ezeas quickly grabbed her hand.
“Then don't do that!”
He turned it over in his hands, staring at the smooth skin with a furrowed brow. She observed him, calmly.
“The fire doesn't injure me, I just feel the pain. And my clothes will burn.”
He dropped her hand with a relieved sigh, then gave her an unhappy glare but she ignored it, looking at her hand.
“So, it seems I'd be able to walk through a burning building without dying but I'd end up naked, and quite possibly insane from the pain.”
“Do you have a point?”
She shook her head.
“Just something to keep in mind if you plan on sending me to battle.”
Her expression turned distant, something he had come to associate with her having a conversation with the dragon, Dhíanvhúr.
She turned towards him, dropping her arm to her side.
“Should we start the training?”
“What is he saying?”
“That I'd never survive more than a minute in actual combat. Nothing illuminating.”
He watched her for a minute, looking for some sign of resentment, defeat or defiance but she returned his gaze with an indifferent expression and he finally broke eye contact.
“Let's get started.”
He moved to stand before her, sizing her up for a moment.
“Go ahead,” he offered.
She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, seemingly considering her next action.
“No.”
For a moment, he though she had changed her mind and would refuse the training.
“How about you show me your skills?”
There was no mocking or snark, just a genuine inquiry, yet Ezeas was puzzled by the exchange.
“What would that accomplish? There's no way you can outmatch me and you get nothing from being instantly defeated, over and over.”
She spread her arms in a casual gesture.
“It'll give me an idea of what I'm up against, won't it?”
He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, twisting the arm up behind her back and placed his own arm across her shoulders, right under her neck, holding her in place. She only gasped in shock before she was trapped in the hold. Her struggles were weak, but seemed to be more about testing his strength than freeing herself. The mess of copper curls almost filled his vision, but he kept still, letting her exhaust herself against his grip.
“I told you, you don't stand a chance in a fair fight against a nyx, never mind a-.”
A searing sensation erupted from his shin, then the hand, which held her wrist, and he hurled her away, yelling out in pain. She stood across from him with a wicked smile on her face, the flames on her left hand extinguishing without a sound.
“What the fuck?”
Ezeas' surprise at her use of fire was only outmatched by his shock at the sheer nerve she had, kicking him in the leg.
“I never planned on fighting fairly.”
He smirked, impressed with her gumption, though he would not admit the full depth of his admiration.
“You really think it's a good idea to use magic against a mage?”
Before she could respond, he reached out, letting blood red flames pour forth from his hands until they surrounded her, while she watched the scene with confusion. When she was surrounded by the blazing ring, he looked at her, smugly.
“Now, get yourself out of that, whelp.”
She smiled at the challenge and held up her hands; letting flames spring into life and start spreading along her arms. Ezeas stared, confused, as she held out her flame covered limbs in front of her, and approached the ring of blazing crimson. Her intent dawned on him as he saw her finger move through his fire, unharmed. She kept her focus on igniting and extinguishing parts of her body as they came through the ring. He allowed her the time to get through, knowing he was giving her far more leeway than necessary; when she came through, he let his flames go out as he moved in to attack her.
And so began an exhaustive game of magic and fighting between the two, with Ezeas coming up with increasingly more difficult situations for Saelina to escape, usually ending in a physical altercation between the two. Every time they clashed, she was trying something new and managed to caught him unawares a few times. He noticed the ferocity she put into every encounter with him, the eagerness with which she tried to get the better of him. She bit, scratched, kicked and slashed whenever she saw an opening, and while he still had the upper hand, it became increasingly clear that she would never stop coming at him. He finally got her pinned to the floor by using magic bindings.
“That's enough. We'll stop here for today.”
He waited for her to signal her acquiescence before removing the dark rings on her body. She sat up slowly, evidently feeling the effect of their sparring. She rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen the muscles in her neck while breathing deeply.
“I get that you're angry with me, but how is destroying your body a constructive use of that anger?”
She stood, rubbing a hand on her neck.
“I suppose it isn't. It felt good though,” she answered with a soft smile.
He scoffed.
“It won't, come morning.”
He kept his expression stern, unwilling to admit that the fight had been...entertaining for him as well.
“I can worry about that tomorrow.”
He looked closely at her, unsure what to make of the gentle voice she used. Her blinking was too slow and her eyes looked dark. He let out a frustrated breath and made a dismissive gesture.
“Go to bed, you're useless like this.”
“Yes, yes, I'm going,” she grumbled without any heat.
She left the room, and he followed, waving his hand to put out the torches; he was about to shut the door when the flicker of a lone flame caught his eye; he turned to see the solitary blaze of Saelina's torch, still burning.
He reached out with his magic, feeling the flame, sensing its otherness; it was unsettling and with determination he wrapped his power around it and snuffed it out, noting the resulting darkness with some satisfaction.