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the 𝒜𝒻𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓈 of 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓈 (sloth+blue)

"I'd deserve it." He mutters.

He manages a few more bites, more like nibbles than anything substantial, and looks up at her tiredly. "You... you're the green one. She's always out there," He makes a weak gesture towards the dais. "But she's not right now. It's you. He called you... you're the historian, Alessa?" He nods. "You teach the little ones, and he cares about you. That's why you want him to come back." He winces and eases hinself away from her, flopping back onto the pillows. "Tell me what to do, to get him to come back for you. Can I talk to him through this link?" He asks. "I'll call him back, or... or give him a message or whatever you want. Just... please. I..." He squeezes his eyes shut in his misery. "I can't... I can't atone for what I did to the little one. Doesn't matter that I never meant to hurt them, I did. But please I..."

When he looks up at her, there is nothing but sincere regret on his face. "I am sorry. I can't forgive him, and none of you can forgive me, and we all have to live with that but if paying for my sins means I have to see him again then I'll run. I'll run and I'll fight him until my body turns to ash. But for your sake and for the little ones, if I can somehow reach out to him and bring him back, I will. I know spells that can clear the skies for a short time. I can teach them to you, so you can retrieve him safely. It's all I can do to make up for what I did, so I'll do it, but I can't face him after that. It's weak, and cowardly, but I can't."
 
Alessa stares at Iliro a he speaks, just listening. At least the human can put enough thoughts together to figure our who she is. She stays silent as the Archmage carries on, clasping her hands together in her lap. Her face is expressionless, but there‘s a softness to her eyes. She can see the regret in the human’s face, but she just shakes her head, waiting for him to stop talking.

“No, you cannot talk through the link. It’s a connection for feeling, an intimate thing. You can feel what Lorsan feels, and he can feel what you feel. And the link only shows true feelings, so it’s not something you can fake. Nobody can make him come back except you. And you can only make him come back if you want him back here. Or he returns on his own time.” Alessa stands, then leans over to tuck the pillows around Iliro, supporting his weakened body, then pulls a blanket over him. “f you want to atone for what you did, do what Lorsan brought you here to do. Learn from us, see how we live. We don’t want this war, but we can’t afford to back out. If those forests are destroyed, we will have nowhere to hunt. We cannot hunt on the other side of the mountains, the Plains dragons there would wipe us out. The only other unclaimed hunting grounds is a three day flight to the north, where cariboo herds live.”
 
He's shivering now, though it's not from the temperature; it's actually quite pleasant with the warmth from the main cavern reaching in. His impassioned offer had been rejected on the basis of impossibility, and now there was nothing but truth between him and Lor-the dragon. He swallows and closes his eyes, nodding frantically even though he still doesn't fully understand what he's supposed to learn.

Thusfar he had learned that dragons herded sheep, and raped-... his mind goes blank again and he opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. The truth between he and the dragon is that if he sees it again, he'll fight. He'll run, and he'll fight, and he'll find a way to end himself.

How the hell is he supposed to learn anything with that hanging over his head? "I..." He heaves a shuddering breath and looks at Alessa, uncertain. "I'll try. Will..." His expression grows regretful again. "Will you tell the little one... I don't... I don't know their name. Tell them what I did was... terrible. Cruel. And that I am sorry. If... if that's okay. Or..." He shakes his head. "Nevermind. Don't tell them, it's better if they think I did it on purpose. Safer for them if they think I meant to. I'm tired now." His voice is pained and he rolls onto his side, curling up into a ball. "I just want to sleep."

It's harder for him to sleep now, though. Knowing that he is open to the other, he isn't sure if the flashes of emotion he gets are real or part of some nightmare. And he keeps hearing the squalls of the injured dragonet. He sleeps for almost half a day before he rouses enough to try eating again, choking down more water than before but only enough food to satisfy Alessa that he's trying to keep to his word. He'd meant to get up, to observe the dragons like Alessa had wanted him to but he falls into exhausted slumber once more.

The next day, when he wakes, he still feels awful. A few bites of food and the draining of a waterskin aren't enough to repair the damage he's done to himself. But he manages to sit up against the carved headboard and watch the dragons through the open mouth of his cave. The little ones don't come near anymore, and that's good. Safer for them if they are afraid of him. But he watches the older dragons curl up in the pits and talk quietly to one another and wonder what the hell he's supposed to be learning when his gaze is caught by the books that his caretaker left. Shaking from the effort of moving, he manages to scoot down the bed to grab one and return to his previous position, but that knocks him out again and he slumps, still and quiet, onto the pillows with the book in his hand.
 
Alessa only nods her head, turning away. She pauses, looking over her shoulder. “The dragonet’s name is Nayru.” And with that, she leaves the cavern. She spends the rest of the day moving amidst the other dragons, relaying the message that Lorsan has gone south. This comforts some, worries others, but there isn‘t anything they can do. Without their General, they have no real leader, but patrol captains gather to organize a schedule.

The next morning, Alessa visits Iliro’s cavern before he wakes, providing fresh food and water. She doesn’t alert him to her presence, moving in silence, letting him sleep. Life for the dragons proceeds as normal as it can, Alessa continues her lessons with the dragonets. In the early afternoon, Alessa arrives to the cavern, this time loudly announcing her entrance. “Alright, human. Let’s go. When’s the last time you bathed? And these sheets need washing, too. Up you get.” She sounds like a mother rousing a child. One hand flings off the blankets, the other plucks at the front of his shirt. “Ugh, did you change at all since I brought you down here? Come on, give me your hands. Let’s get you on your feet.”
 
He jerks awake from a nightmare involving clawed hands and a pain worse than he'd ever conceived of to Alessa berating him for his stink again. Iliro blinks to clear the cobwebs from his vision and his mind and groggily obeys her. With her assistnace, he's able to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, and answers her question with a shake of his head.

Getting on his feet is another nightmare, except he's awake for this one. Blood rushes to his feet and feels like thousands of needles prickling beneath his skin and he whimpers pathetically, needing to sit down for a moment before the pain dulls. When it does, he lets her pull him back to his feet and hobbles with her out of the cave. The trip to the bathing pools makes him dizzy and nauseus but the moment he is naked and sinking into the steaming water, all of the pain is suddenly worth it. Iliro groans and wilts against the edge of the pool, his face relaxing for the first time in nearly a week.

He's suddenly disgusted by his condition, and blinks wearily up at Alessa. "Thank you. Do you have any kind of soap, or scrubbing sand?" His voice is thick and rough but clearer than it had been when she first came to check on him in the other dragon's cave. "I can wash myself. Could..." He looks at her for a moment, considering. "If I vow not to drown myself, can I have some time alone here? I think I need to have a breakdown."
 
Alessa grumbles when the first attempt to stand fails, but she waits patiently. He has been bedridden for nearly a week. She pullsone arm over her shoulders as they walk, a slow shuffle across the main cavern to the tunnel. A few of the dragons in the basking pits turn their heads to watch, some of them whispering, though their words don’t reach the human’s ears. At the bathing pools, Alessa helps Iliro strip down, and gets him settled in the water. “There’s soapstone across the way, you just have to break off a chunk. The humidity here makes it soft.” Iliro asks for time alone, and Alessa presses her lips into a thin line. “I will go around the corner of the tunnel, but I will not go out of earshot.”

With a look that shows she doesn’t entirely trust the Archmage, Alessa walks down the tunnel. She leans against the wall, just out of sight, but she can still hear the human moving around in the water. Her hands wring the fabric of his clothing in her hands until her knuckles turn white. If Iliro weren’t Lorsan’s mate, she’d have tossed him down the side of the mountain and left him to the wolves the moment he’d attacked Nayru. As a dragon that can’t bear her own hatchlings, Alessa is very protective of the dragonets. But her loyalty to Lorsan drives her to care for his mate in his absence. She will do the best she can to carry out Lorsan’s wishes; keep his mate safe, and teach him to live amidst dragons.
 
Alessa leaves him somewhat alone and that's the best he can ask for so he takes it. He does breakdown, shoving his hand against his mouth in order to muffle his cries as he laments what has happened. What he had done. He breaks down into the kind of tears that make his body feel like its shaking apart and like a spike is being driven into his skull, but when it's done he forces himself to relax in the water and drift.

The soapstone feels good against his skin. Maybe too good. It feels like its scouring him, and he scrubs too hard because it makes him feel like he can wash away what the other did to him. He scrubs until it hurts, then scrubs even more. But no amount of scrubbing can get rid of the faint green-yellow bruises that still linger on his skin, or the healed-over puncture wounds on his hips. Or the silvery scar in the imprint of the dragon's teeth.

He has another breakdown, holding his head as he sobs.

Cleaning between his legs is the worst of it. His violator had cleaned him that first day, so the blood and the... the rest is gone, but he can feel the ghost of the mess on his skin. He forces himself to hurry and get it over with, then attacks his greasy hair.

When he is scrubbed raw and his hair is mostly untangled, Iliro feels marginally better. He at least feels like he can keep going, despite his heart and his head telling him to drown himself right here. Even though he wants to be alone for the rest of enternity, he clears his throat and calls out. "I'm done." His body feels heavy and stupid as Alessa helps him out of the water but the clean clothes make hin feel slightly more human. Seated on a rock, he looks up at her in his tired, contrite way. "You care about him a lot, to be helping me even after what I did." It's a statement again, not a question. "Even though you must hate me, you've taken care of me, and I appreciate it. And you. Can you tell me one thing?" He asks her, wondering if she'll answer honestly. "He said we were fated, so he had no choice. But how can that be when I'm a human, and besides that, a human that can't even help him further his bloodline?" He winces, and shifts on the rock. "If his clan's future is so precious and precarious, how can I possibly be his fate? Does fate often play such viciously cruel jokes on your people? Or was he just lying to me when he said that?"
 
Alessa returns to the bathing pools when called. She helps him out of the water, uses a bit of magic to dry him, helps him dress. Once he’s seated on the rock, Alessa sits behind him, claws working through his hair. Her fingers work the strands into little braids, then those braids together into one. The style will protect his hair, and keep it out of his face, as he will likely be spending more time in bed. “I care about him, because he took care of me, when my mate died. I did not get to spend long with my mate, he died only months after we’d met, to a stupid mistake. He was fascinated with plantlife growing in seemingly impossible places, and was looking at a clump of white flowers. Rain had made the cliffs weak, and his tail bumped a rockbed. I tried to warn him, but the rockslide buried him before he could move.” Alessa’s voice is strained, but it doesn’t shake. “I was.. Not myself. I’d have likely died had Lorsan not cared for me.”

Alessa ties a knot at the bottom of the joined braid, letting it fall against Iliro’s back. “I am historian of this clan, but I am not old enough to know everything. We had elders that might have been able to better answer your questions, but they gave their lives in the early days of the war. What I can say is that yes, sometimes the fates are cruel. Sometimes dragons are paired with the same sex, and sometimes dragons never get to meet their destined mates before they die.” Alessa stands, coming around in front of Iliro, holding out her hands to help the man stand. “I have never heard of a dragon having a human as a mate, nevermind one of the same sex. But I do not believe it is impossible. Lorsan had all the signs: the calm of your presence, your scent pulling him. Every time he saw you, he became distracted from his duties. But his instincts run stronger than most, and in this, it seems it was no different. What he did to you, human, was wrong. But I do not believe he was lying. Dragons value honesty.”
 
Iliro feels weak in spirit, not just body, when she tells him something so deeply personal. Why would she share her pain with him? He listens silently, and when she mkves back in front of him, he hesitates before taking her hands.

"I'm sorry." He tells her, praying she believes him. "For your mate, for the war, for all of it. I wanted to be Archmage." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his expression pained. "I wanted to be Archmage because I was born nothing. The only thing of value in me was less than a spark. But I cultivated it until I became worth something, and became Archmage because I couldn't bear being nothing any longer. But I never wanted the war itself. I thought, by the time the last one died and I was elected... I thought it would be over. It wasn't, but I took the mantle because I needed it, and I am... I regret things I've done under the name Archmage, but they were what I thought was needed to protect my people. So I'm sorry." He gets painfully to his feet, swaying, trying to remain standing without her aide. "I have no one. Nothing. Nothing except the power and title, and thats why it was so easy for the king to hand me over." It rips him apart to finally admit that. "And now even those have been taken from me."

He holds up his hands, empty, palms up. "I can't touch my magic. Not since that day. It feels like he reached inside of me and pulled it out. I haven't been without it since the first time I made a pebble levitate. The king is going to replace me. And even if you let me go, I can never hold that title again. I am, once more, nothing." Iliro shakes his head tiredly and drops his hands. "He made me nothing so he could make me his. Even if I watch and I learn, I don't know what I can do anymore. How I could possibly make them change their minds and leave your forests alone. I'm nothing now but a burden."
 
Alessa actually laughs, shaking her head. It takes her a moment to compose herself, then loops her arm with the human’s. He still doesn‘t trust him, but she appreciates his words, and his willingness to share soething about himself, after she had done the same. She talks as they walk down the tunnel to the main cavern. “Humans always think they are nothing without power. Did you know, not all dragons have magic? But every dragon has a place in the Clan, something to contribute.”

Alessa walks quietly for a moment, leading Iliro back to his cavern. Her magic binds him to the wall again, on a long chain once more. “You say you cannot touch your magic, but that has noting to do with Lorsan. You have not had magebane in nearly a week, your magic is there. I can sense it, even if you cannot. Your problem is up here.” Alessa taps her temple as she sits Iliro on the bed in his cavern. “I can’t say why, thaat’s something you must figure out for yourself. Perhaps some mental block, some fear or guilt? I have no doubt you fear Lorsan, but I do know he does not have the power to take away your magic.”
 
He feels weirdly chastised when she laughs at him. Then he feels annoyed.

He'd just shared his past and his fears with her, and she'd laughed.

Sullen, he listens to her talk as they head down the tunnel. Then he listens as she binds him again. Everytime she utters the other dragon's name he flinches, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, but he listens. "It's gone." He insists, staring miserably at the floor. "Whatever the reason is, I can't feel it. And without it, I'm useless. I have nothing else to offer." He grabs the book he had tried to read before he had passed out, and lays down.

"Whenever he comes back, he's going to want things from me that I can't give. You say he won't touch me like that again, but he's already shown he's capable of it. And even if he doesn't give in to those instincts, he'll want something. Even something small, I can't give him." Iliro settles against the pillows and drags one of the furs over his legs. "I hope he comes back soon, for you, because as much as you hate me, you've been kind. But when he does, I won't see him, even if he stands in front of me. He doesn't exist to me except as a nightmare I can't wake up from." He winces, laying an arm over his stomach as the memory of that pain returns.

"Thank you. Again. I'd like to be alone, if that's okay. I do my best research when I'm alone." He holds up the book as explanation.
 
Alessa sighs, shaking her head again. This time, it's in annoyance. Humans can never see past their own need for power. But she says no more on the matter of his magic. When Iliro speaks of Lorsan again, and his inability to give the dragon anything, she simply shrugs. "That is not something I can help you with. You need to figure out what to do yourself. But if you doubt my words about Lorsan, you need only touch the link between you to feel it for yourself."

Alessa tidies the room a bit, even laying out clothes for Iliro for the next day. She's glad she had prearranged to have another dragon come in and change the sheets while she'd taken Iliro to the bathing pools. She scoffs when the Archmage holds up the book. "Not all our histories are written down, human. Keep that in mind. Much can only be learned through conversation. And conversation would do you good. Tomorrow, I'm taking you to the spring. The healers want to see you." Alessa leaves before Iliro can protest.
 
He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want other dragons touching him. He knows they already look at him, because the tapestry still hasn't been replaced and he can see them in the basking pits so certainly they can see him in the cave. The idea of them touching him though makes his skin crawl and his stomach hurt.

Maybe he can just pretend to be asleep when she comes to get him tomorrow.

Iliro cracks open the book because its there, reads it becuase they keep pushing him to learn. He isn't opposed to learning, he always enjoyed learning something new. Iliro had thrived in the academy once he'd made it in, so it's not the task of learning that is daunting to him. It's the fact that, whatever Alessa wants to tell him, Iliro can do nothing for them anymore. Still, he reads. And he thinks, and eventually he falls asleep with the book open on his chest.

Claws gripping his hips, his face mashed into the stone floor of the pit. Hot breath in his ear, teeth on his throat, and a violent, earth-shattering pain. He's ripping, he's tearing, his body is falling apart and the dragon bites into his throat and-

Iliro wakes up with a scream and throws himself over the edge of the bed onto the ground. The painful impact with the floor knocks him senseless for a moment but it chases away the darkness in his mind. He lays there, shaking and sick, and tries to push down the bile in his throat because he can feel the dragon through this link that has been forced on him and-

Iliro claws his way up onto his hands and knees and crawls to where Alessa left him a waterskin, pouring some into his hand to splash on his face. He gulps more of it down, then caps it and places it back on the shelf. Aching and tired, he stretches out on his back on the floor and stares up at the ceiling, focusing on rebuilding the walls around his mind. Will it keep the dragon out? Probably not. But he goes through the exercise and squashes out any awareness of the other until his hands stop shaking.
 
Several minutes after Iliro's scream and tumble from the bed, there's a thump on the stone in the main cavern. The cavern itself is empty, hinting that it may be night, though with the crystal lighting up the cavern, it's impossible to tell. A rustle of wings follows the thump, then Alessa is walking into view, one hand rubbing at her green eyes. She stops when she spot Iliro on the floor.

"You know, nightmare or not, the floor is not a good spot to stay. Especially when you have no meat on your bones." The sarcasm drips heavy from her soft voice as she walks over, holding out her hand to help him up. Once he's back on the bed, she sits by his hip, yawning. "Do you want to talk about it?"
 
He's quiet for a long time, his expression flat and empty of emotion. "He's still alive." He finally says by way of explanation. It's the most he can say without acknowledging the shape of the dream itself, which he's too strung out to do. He doesn't want to think of why it was so vivid or the way he could practically feel the dragon in the room with him. He just wants to take a knife and hack away at the invisible bond until its broken. Iliro shudders and covers his face with his hands, breathing slowly. When he uncovers his face, his arms lay folded on his chest and he turns his head to look at Alessa, once again contrite. "I'm sorry if I woke you, or anyone else." He means it, actually feels bad about the probability.

"I had a little brother, once." He tells her quietly. "He used to have nightmares all the time. He was scared of everything. The dark, monsters, storms. He'd wake up crying in the night, and I'd let him come sleep in bed with me. I teased him about it once, and he cried so much. I never teased him again." He realizes suddenly his eyes are misty and raises a hand to cover his face again. "I don't want to go see the healers." The protest is weak, as if admitting it is something he regrets. "I don't know what they want with me but I already burden you so much, I don't want to create more debt with anyone else. I don't suppose you'll let me avoid them?" He removes his hand and looks at her, his expression hopeful.
 
Relief washes through Alessa at hearing Lorsan is still alive, but she doesn't comment on it. Instead, she listens to Iliro share more of his past. She can't help but smirk a bit when he mentions teasing his brother. She hadn't been about to do the same, just to listen should he want to talk about the nightmare.

Alessa scoffs when Iliro asks to not be taken to the healers. "Your problems are your own, human. I will listen if you want to talk, but I won't burden others with your issues. I'm not taking you to the healers for them to help you, I'm taking you so ypu can help them." Alessa stands up again, running one hand through her mousy brown hair. "You kept calling yourself useless, so I'm making you useful. And no, you don't get a choice. Now go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night."
 
No Iliro looks at her with confusion. Help them? He lifts his head as she stands to leave and frowns. "Help.... Help them?" He makes a disbelieving sound and shakes his head. "I'm... what?" He sits up clumsily, fully awake now. "In what realm could I possibly be useful to a dragon except as kindling in this state?" He holds up his hand, tries to call on his magic and experiences only that painful tug of the void. "I have no magic. I can barely walk. And healing magics were never my strong arm." He holds up both hands now to ward off any irritation the woman may direct at him. "I'm not saying I won't help, because I will, I just can't fathom what I could possibly do for any of you right now."
 
Alessa huffs out a sound of frustration and releases what can only be described as a string of animalistic growls, the closest thing to true draconian a human mouth can form. She's scowling deeply, staring at Iliro with his hand held up in the air. "Stupid human, how on earth do you do anything for yourself?"

Instead of arguing, Alessa leaves the cavern, muttering something along the lines of 'do humans use magic to make bread too?'. There's wingsbeats, then silence swiftly follows.

Four hours later, Alessa is back in the cavern, yanking sheets off Iliro and throwing clean clothes at his face. She specifically selected a tunic with short sleeves. "Wake up! Get dressed. Ypu need to eat before I take you to the spring."
 
Iliro sighs and flops back against the pillows. What the fuck could he possibly do for a bunch of dragons? Oh well, maybe she'll get so tired of him she'll turn him loose in the woods to get eaten by a wolf.

There's no going back to sleep right away, not with the dregs of the nightmare swirling in his mind. So he continues reading the dragon's book, and falls asleep with it once more. It feels like he's just closed his eyes when suddenly the covers are yanked away from him and he's assaulted by different cloth, spluttering and flailing for a moment before he realizes he isn't being attacked. With a weary sigh he moves to the edge of the bed and clumsily dresses himself, then forces enough food down his gullet to satisfy her requirements for a meal. Water is getting easier as he craves it more, and he manages to drain an entire waterskin as he struggles with the food.

As ready as he'll ever be, he gets to his feet and waits for the dizziness to pass before he follows her at a shambling pace. He's able to walk on his own most of the way, but he has to pause halfway there and lean against the wall to still the shaking in his limbs. By the time they reach the spring he's out of breath and the pain in his hips and lower back has returned with a vengeance. "Alright. What do you need from me?"
 
Alessa sits at the table to watch Iliro eat, eyes scrutinizing him He’s starting to look better, but needs to eat more if he wants to gain weight back. At least he’s better hydrated. When they leave the cavern, she’s patient as he walks, there at his side should he need her. It’s good for him to do it on his own. His muscles wasted and probably atrophied somewhat during the time he spent bedridden. Movement will help with a lot of that.

In the spring, water is immediately splashed at his face, followed by the offended and indignant looks of three white dragons. “Goodness, didn’t your human parents teach you any manners?” The voice belongs to the biggest of the three, a high but soft sound. Her cloudy grey eyes are rimmed in pale blue, as though highlighted, and that same pale blue edging surrounds her mouth and claws. The other two look identical; solid white, save for claws two shades toward grey, and pink eyes. None of these dragons have spikes. One of the twins is missing half of her front left leg, though it appears to be a birth defect, and not an injury. The larger dragon had been the one to splash the human.

”Be rude again, and I’ll dunk you. Now get over here.” In front of the dragon is an empty wicker basket, which she pushes toward the human with one claw. As she does, her tail waves at the other two. “Girls, I don’t hear any shape changing. Just because we have the human here, doesn’t mean you get to slack off.” The twin dragons both stick their tongues out at the larger one before taking human form. In human form, they’re still identical, and look almost human with their lack of any horns amidst their short white hair. The one with the deformed limb holds her left arm to her chest; it ends in a stump just below her elbow. The girls move in close to Iliro, each taking one of his hands in a gentle grip. The one with the deformed left arm speaks up. “I’m Tera, my sister is Tikia, and that’s Treya, our mother. We need to harvest the flowers before they wilt, and give space for new ones to bloom.”
 
Iliro squawks and sputters indignantly at the splash of water, bewildered.

What had he done to misstep? He is too stunned by the reprimand to do anything but move forward when prompted and pick up the basket. Bending over exacerbates the pain in his lower back but he gets the basket and straightens, watching the twins shapechange wearily. He starts to clam up, tensing and drawing in on himself as they move closer, half-expecting them to lash out, but they take his hands and lead him away with a soft introduction. Iliro breathes a sigh of relief and hobbles along between them. Gardening, he realizes with a dizzy puff of relief. They want him to garden.

Gardening is something he can actually do.

Iliro nods. "I'm familiar with the species and how to harvest it properly. At least, by human standards. Is there-" He has to pause again, his hips screaming in protest at all the movement. When he catches his breath he shakes his head and continues to follow them to a patch of the flowers. "Is there some way you harvest them I should know?" He isn't making fun or being sarcastic; gardening is one of the few things he would consider a passion outside of his studies, and the different ways that cultures use growing things in magic, ritual, and medicine have always fascinated him.
 
Tikia smiles as they settle around the patch, setting to work immediately. Her fingers are careful, plucking the flowers the practiced ease and setting them in the basket. Tera works one handed, answering Iliro’s question. “As long as you don’t rip the petals, you’re fine. The flower is the medicinal part, so damaging the petals releases the oils before they’re ready to be ground up and stored.” Treya, still in dragon form, coils her tail alongside her body where she lays by the water. Her head turns toward their voices, but she doesn’t look directly at them. As they work, she hums quietly, producing a sort of background melody.

Tera talks while they harvest, seeming to just be thinking outloud, or voicing curiosities. “I overheard that you were asking about dirt when you first arrived. Did you get to see Eden? There’s lots of field land, but it wouldn’t take much to work up the soil for a garden. I learned from the warriors that humans always have huge plots of land devoted to growing plants. Dragons mostly eat meat, but we do supplement with plantlife. Meat doesn’t have every nutrient ever, you know. I wonder what you could plant there? I bet lots of things would grow. Eden has such nice flora in the forests, it must have good soil.” She’s rambling, but this seems to be a normal thing, for her to talk a lot. Tikia smiles often, but never seems interested in adding her own comments. “Oh, but you’d have to put up a fence. The sheep go into the forests sometimes, eating the wild fruit that grows there. I’m sure they’d love easy access to anything you might grow. They’re good sheep, but they’re also dumb. Food, water, shelter. They think only about the basic survival needs. Oh, and of course there’s breeding season. The fields get loud when that happens, and even louder when there’s little baby lambs running around.”
 
Iliro struggles to find a comfortable way to sit on the ground. Sitting on his butt is no good--maybe part of it is a mental block, but it's still agony. So he kneels in the mossbeds and sits on his heels as he expertly plucks at the flowers. They pop off into his hands and he transfers them to the baskets, making quick work of this first patch. Tera's endless chatter is comforting in a way. She doesn't actually seem to need anyone else's input, and it's nice, after his self-isolation with only Alessa and the other dragon for company, to hear another person, even another dragon, talk. He's included in the conversation without having to participate much, and he's grateful for that as he works.

If he weren't in so much pain, this would be nice.

"I've never raised sheep." He finally mumbles, wincing and adjusting his legs. "When I was younger we raised chickens. Back home, there were always rabbits in the gardens, and they were tiny menaces. And the dogs. Always digging holes and chasing the rabbits." Crawling on his hands and knees, he moves closer to another patch of the flowers. "I don't think I'll be visiting your Eden anymore, though." He admits, looking wistful. "I think we're passed that. What I did see was beautiful. A fine place to visit. Are you a healer?" He asks, gesturing to the flowers. "Or do you tend the flowers? Or both?"
 
Tikia has moved away to work on a different patch, content to wander back over with handfuls of flowers, then walking away again. Tera stays close to Iliro, getting the sense that he needs the calming company. She doesn’t bring it up in conversation though. She smiles widely when the human talks about chickens and rabbits, then makes a face when dogs are brought up. “Chickens are fun to chase, but there’s not enough meat on them, so there’s no point in keeping them, and the eggs aren’t enough for a meal either. Rabbits are pests here too, so Kraven got rid of them very quickly. That’s our lead sheep-minder, by the way. He’s kind of a recluse, and only ever leaves Eden during the rainy season. There’s not a lot of shelter from rain in Eden, at least not for dragons. I don’t like dogs, they’re loud, and always jumping all over the place. We had one for a little while, but I think it was a wolf, because it kept attacking the lambs. Kraven got rid of that one, too.”

Tera looks up when asked if she’s a healer, pink eyes blinking. “Technically, I’m a healer in training. So is Tikia. Mother is the only fully fledged healer the Clan has, but a lot of our Clan members help out when there’s wounded. Mother has been training us for years, but it’ll be a long time before either of us have finished training. It’s hard to learn when we can’t leave to explore the forests. If only the humans weren’t-“ Treya pauses in her humming to clear her throat, cutting Tera off. The young woman blushes as though scolded, and quickly changes the subject. “Anyway, why don’t you want to go back to Eden? Is it because your body is weak? I can help you get there. I can’t carry you, I’ve only got one good arm, but I can help you get don the stairs. Even in my natural form, I couldn’t carry you. Humans don’t know it, but dragons need more than just their tails for balance in the air.”
 
He hadn't been lying to Alessa: there was regret in him for his part in this war. There had to be some common ground they could all come to, some way to coexist. It was a waste of lives to keep fighting. The regret deepens with everytime the dragons' suffering is brought up. It's getting harder to justify his own hand in the war when he's seen both sides of the suffering now. The mother dragon admonishes her child, and Tera changes the subject to something far more fraught.

He sighs, and shakes his head. "It's not that." He's quiet for a moment, concentrating on examining a patch of flowers. These ones are too young, they've only just blossomed. They need to mature a bit more before they're picked, so he crawls to another patch before he answers. "It's hard to explain." How do you explain to someone that you've faced down countless foes and risked life and limb in to-the-death battles, but you can't face one singular individual? Does she even know exactly what happened? The possibility of that makes his shoulders hunch and his lips thin.

He hadn't exactly been quiet when he'd been broken.

So just like her, he changes the subject. "Have you ever considered a prosthesis?" He asks. "They aren't common, but there have been some great strides in the technology. It wasn't the main focus of my research, but I was helping to develop new ones for those affected by the war." He sits back, his spine aching from this position, and braces his hands on his legs as he looks at her. "Do your dens have a history of such things?"
 
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