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the 𝒜𝒻𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓈 of 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓈 (sloth+blue)

Tera can tell that whatever the reason the human doesn’t want to go back to Eden, he also doesn’t want to talk about it. No doubt it has something to do with Lorsan. The whole Clan knows what happened; they’d all heard the screams, and all of them could smell Lorsan’s lingering scent on Iliro, though it has greatly faded in the black dragon’s absence. The whole Clan also knows it’s not something to be talked about. Business between mates is not business of the Clan.

Tera follows Iliro away from the patch of immature flowers, a little smile on her face at seeing the human recognize they’re not ready. That smile turns into a soft laugh when asked if she’d considered a prosthesis. “It’s not a matter of whether I’ve considered it, it’s simply not something done for dragons. Our shapes have vastly different sizes, and it’s impractical to make two. Besides, dragons can only bind one item to them when changing, so it would be a matter of clothing or prosthesis. It’s also why the males only ever seem to wear pants, and why the females are all in dresses. Or would you rather we walk around naked like some of the human nudist colonies I’ve heard warriors bring stories back about?” There’s teasing in Tera’s voice, and she bumps her thin shoulder against Iliro’s. “Even dragons have some modicum of modesty, you know.”
 
When Iliro smiles, it's small, and it's tired, but it's genuine. It's just a quirk of the right corner of his lips, but it's a smile, and it's real, and it's the first time he's done anything but frown since before. He doesn't sense the hate he was expecting, that would make sense for what he did to the little one. Tera is sweet, and warm, and Iliro thanks her with his small smile.

She's easy to talk to. Easier than Alessa who he can feel hating him every second. Tera is almost easy to be around, if she just wouldn't keep inadvertantly mentioning the black dragon. They talk about gardening a lot, and he tells her of his gardens back home. The garden for use and the garden for pleasure. How he would forget to tend to himself, but never forget to tend to his flowers.

Her sister doesn't seem interested in talking to him. Iliro wonders why, but doesn't try to force it. The mother's humming is soothing, so much so that by the time his energy is waning, he's starting to drift. Laying down amongst the flowers sounds great right now; the warm, clean air, the sense of safety he hasn't felt since he arrived...

Iliro rubs his eyes tiredly, and pats his cheek to wake himself back up. "I'm happy to continue helping, this has been pleasant, but I'm still not at my best. I may need a break."
 
Tera looks up from the patch she’s currently working on when Iliro starts yawning. They’ve been at it for almost four hours, and there’s still another three hours worth of flowers to be harvested. But of course, she’d never force the human to keep working. Tera’s too gentle natured for that. However, her eyes dart to the tunnel out of the spring cavern. Alessa isn’t there, she’d left shortly after introductions. “Ah, well, I don’t think we can let you leave yet. You could lay with Mother and have a nap? It’s not like we’d eat you. We’re healers, and have our vows of pacifism.”

Treya halts her humming to rumble a laughter at her daughter’s words. They’re not wrong. As healer dragons, it would be very wrong of them to bring harm to anything. They don’t even help in the hunting parties, though they still eat the meat provided. “Come here, little human, lay on the moss with me. Let my daughters continue their work. The historian will return to collect you eventually.”
 
Iliro is conflicted. On the one hand, he is exhausted. This is the most activity he's engaged in since he tossed the dragon's cave in a feeble attempt to drive him away. On the other, he's tired of feeling so weak and useless.

Still, he nods and crawls on all fours over to Treya and slumps into the moss next to her face-down. The moss is like crushed velvet over the stone so its almost comfortable for his sore human body. He falls asleep to their quiet chatter and the dripping water of the spring.

Impossible to know what hurts more. It's all one black, greasy wave of suffering at this point, drowning him. The dragon is on all sides, consuming him in greedy big bites, he leans down and-

Iliro lets out a frightened yelp and flips onto his back, covering his face with both hands as guilt that isn't his swamps through him. Self loathing that, again, doesn't belong to him, radiates through his mind, and with a frustrated groan he shakes his head and sits up with tears in his eyes.

He has no idea how long he'd been out, but it can't have been very long at all because he's groggy and gritty as he ignores any questions from the ladies and grabs his basket again. His eyes are bruised with fatigue but he silently gets back to work, forcing hinself to keep moving, to keep working. Eyes downcast and lips pressed together in a firm, thin line.

The dragon had taken his body, his spirit, and now his sleep.
 
Iliro had been asleep for about an hour. The twins jumps at the sudden yelp, Tera immediately voicing her concern. Treya swings her head around to sniff at the human, making sure nothing had injured him. But as he ignores them, pushing himself up, the twins resume their work. This time, Tera leaves Iliro alone, giving him space. Treya flutters her wings, but otherwise is silent. After several minutes, she calls Tikia to her side. Treya talks in hushed tones, before sending Tikia out of the cavern.

Tikia returns after half an hour, setting a small cloth wrapped package in front of Treya. The dragon sniffs at it, then nuzzles against the quiet young woman in thanks. Tikia returns to harvesting, and Tera finally comes over to Iliro. She doesn’t ask about the human’s dreams, instead letting her curiosity start conversation again. “Human, what are the markings on your arms? Are they magic?”
 
Iliro works quickly, less carefully than before. His face is twisted, his breathing uneven as he hurriedly fills the basket. They leave him alone which is a blessing and a curse because he doesn't need to school his face into something acceptable, but there's nothing to distract him from his memories. When Tera approaches him again his movement become almost frantic, picking up the pace of his harvesting as if he can speed up the time he has to spend here. His chin wobbles when she speaks and he sits back on his heels, closing his eyes. "Yes." Iliro takes a deep breath and rests his fists on his knees, digging his knuckles into the flesh there. "Yes, it's a... it's a technique I developed while I was in the academy. It's the research that set me apart as the Archmage." His body is rocking as he tries to fend off the panic attack he can feel closing in. "A deeper connection with the magic we access. The combat possibilities were all that interested the court but there's endless ways it could be used to improve our lives. So many people just access magic without becoming one with the energy, if I could just make them understand that its-" He shakes his head and covers his face. "That its just as alive as we are and... and..."

He drops his hands suddenly and presses them into the moss, his face screwed up in anger. "Olmië!" He shouts. "Olmië! Olmië!" The plucked stems of the flowers do not respond. There is no new growth, no tiny buds popping into existence as he slams his hands down against the moss and shouts again. Each attempt to cast is just a painful little tug from the nothingness inside him, and in his rage he growls and bends over at the waist until his face is pressed into the moss, fingers tangled in his hair.

He reaches out. Iliro closes his eyes and breaks down his walls and he reaches out. He pours everything he is feeling into that connection. He focuses on his pain, on the inescapable reality of it that he feels every day. He confronts his fear, the shape of it, the smell and the feel of it. The dragon's claws and teeth and cock. His fear of it happening again, of the drag-... of Lorsan simply looking at him. He gathers it all up and shoves it at the connection. His despair, his grief, his loneliness. He takes everything inside him and he imagines shoving it down Lorsan's throat until he chokes on it. And when he's done, he focuses on the dragon coming back. Coming back to these caves, to his people. He focuses on wanting Lorsan to return, on wanting him to be here.

Then, ignoring the ladies, he lays down on his side and stares blankly into the pool.
 
Tera throws herself backward when Iliro slams his hands down. She'd been listening with interest to his explanation, about to ask more questions, but his sudden outburst frightens her. Tikia is by her side quickly, pulling her away from the human. Treya stands, wings stretching, clouded eyes unfocused but pointed toward Iliro. There's a growl in her chest.

When the outburst ends and Iliro lays quietly by the water, Tera is shaking. She has no idea what Iliro had been trying to do. The casting words humans use aren't of any language taught among dragons. Dragon magic is wordless, after all. Treys nudges her daughter. "Go and fetch Alessa. It is time for the human to return to his quarters."
 
He lays there in the moss and the flowers and he feels weak. Not just his body butp his mind and his spirit as well. He's never been a coward until now and he hates so much that he is letting this beat him. His eyes flick down to the flower stems beneath him and he reaches out to oinch one between his fingers. "Olmië." This time he says it with that flat, inflectionless voice, and only loud enough for Treya to hear. "Please. Please, olmië. Grow, do something. Please. Olmië." His voice cracks because the connection is still open and his spirit still is reaching out for it so he can feel the other and it makes him feel naked and vulnerable. "Olmië, grow. Just grow, please, just this." He's talking to his magic, trying to call it back to him in hushed, hopeless tone. "Just grow. Just let me have this..."

When Alessa comes he has fallen silent again. He's still pinching the stem, staring hard at it, willing the spell to work. The moment he senses her presence behind him, he speaks up. "He's coming back." He announces, voice dead. "I called him back. He's coming now."
 
Tikia keeps a close eye on Iliro, not yet returning to her work. Treya's head is tilted, listening to the human. Alessa is the only one to get close to him, crouching down behind him. Hearing his words, and dead tone of his voice, her lips press into a thin line. As much as she appreciates what Iliro has done, she knows he's not ready to face Lorsan. She can tell he's had another breakdown, even without Tera having said what happened.

Alessa doesn't make Iliro walk back to the cavern. Instead, she picks him up, carries him close to her like a mother carries a frightened child. It's only been a couple of days, but maybe she doesn't hate the human as much as she wants to. Not that she'd ever admit it. Back in Iliro's cavern, she sets him on the bed, taking a moment to wipe his hands clean. Then she presses food and a waterskin into his palms. "Eat. Then ypu can sleep."
 
He almost doesn't obey. The idea of putting food in his mouth makes him turn green and his stomach clenches in warning, but the water is okay. He pushes off the inevitable by gulping down the water until he knows he can't put it off any longer. The food tastes like ash but he forces himself to eat bits and pieces until Alessa lets him stop

He rolls onto his side away from her and stares blindly at the wall.

"He's hurt." Iliro admits. "I think... sparring. Something like that. I can feel the bruises like they're my own but it wasn't a battle. Doesn't feel like one. He's upset. He's looking for something but I have no idea what." His face screws up and then he does something truly embarrassing: he drags the topmost fur over his head to hide his face and to muffle the sound as he starts to weep.
 
Alessa keeps her face carefully blank as she listens, setting aside the food and waterskin when Iliro is finished with it. He probably wants to be alone, but she sits with him anyway, a comforting, supportive presence. Even without a connection, she can sense the loneliness. So she hums quiet lullabies, respectfully keeping her eyes away from Iliro. Her thoughts wander.

Sparring, huh. Training, maybe. But for what? To what end? And what does he search for? A way to free Iliro from their mating? Unlikely, Alessa has never heard of such a thing. Then again, she'd never heard of a dragon mating a human either. Even as historian, there's so much history she doesn't know. Oh, how she wishes they still had elders to their clan..

Alessa sits with Iliro until he quiets and falls asleep. She ddoes't bother him as she stands, leaving the cavern to let him sleep. Would Lorsan really return? And if he did, would he make it before the rain starts?
 
He sleeps fitfully, too afraid to fall into a deep sleep now that he has acknowledged the connection and put so much of himself into it. If he sleeps, he can't defend himself from any onslaught of emotion that Lorsan might feel. He tosses and he turns and he weeps into the pillows.

In the morning, he realizes Alessa hasn't tethered him again. Had she forgotten, or is this some kind of gesture? Either way, he has no intention of leaving his cave ever again now that Lorsan is to return; if he stays in the cave, he has less chance of accidentally running into the dragon and losing his mind. He eats because he's supposed to, drinks because he's thirsty, then he takes one of his notebooks to the entrance of the cave and sits on the floor against the inside wall, marking out the threshold in his mind and resolving not to cross it.

Riiiiip.

He tears a page from the notebook and stares at the parchment dispassionately as he folds and tucks it into itself. He works for a few minutes in silence, leaning almost comfortably against the stone entrance as he transforms the paper into a flower. When it's done, he tosses it outside the cave. Another page, another flower, another toss. Again and again he rips the paper and folds it into flowers, and the entire time he keeps his mind open to the connection between them, his dread growing with every hour that brings Lorsan closer and closer to the mountain. Eventually, he can see the dragonets revving up to play, bouncing around and nipping playfully at one another. He watches them for a while, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. They stay far away from his cave, and he can't blame them for it because he intends to do the same with Lorsan.

He watches one clamber up onto a rock and leap off, trying to flap their spindly wings to gain air. Iliro starts folding a piece of paper into a bird, and then folds another into a strange, bent shape. The bird slits into the shape, and Lorsan takes aim, snapping the folded shape open. It launches the bird into the air and the bird soars for a good forty feet before it lands on the stone floor near one of the coal fires.
 
Alessa doesn't visit him first thing in the morning this time. Iliro is left to his own devices. She's not on the dais either, when the Archmage chooses to sit outside his cavern. A couple of dragons in the nearest basking pit take notice, though mostly they ignore him. They've all heard that he can't access his magic, even without the magebane. The dragonets are indeed using the stones around the pits to practice flight; they all understand the principle, as young as they are, but the only way to learn is to strengthen their little wings.

One dragonet stops when he sees the paper bird fly through the air. His head turns, one eye following it. When his head turns far enough to the right, the ugly pink scarring and empty eye socket make quite the contrast against the dragonet's blue scales. Though it's healing amazingly well, the scarring still looks fresh.

The other two young dragonets stop playing when Nayru picks up the paper bird by the edge of its wing. They start shouting when the four year old dragonet walks up to the human, somehow navigating the paper flowers without stepping on any of them. Adult dragons stand in alarm, scales bristling, but they don't rush forward just yet. Nayru get close enough to set the paper bird on Iliro's ankle, lifting his head with a smile. Then he hops away, back over to his friends, who burst into loud whispers about how he's too brave for his own good. The adults eye Iliro carefully before settling back on the hot coals, returning to their conversations.
 
He doesn't dare to move, doesn't even dare to breathe. His expression is twisted with the bottomless well of painful guilt he feels as the dragonet sets the bird back down within his reach, and smiles at him.

It breaks Iliro's heart, and it's all he can do not to burst into tears.

He folds up a tiny paper dragon. It can't fly, but if you pull on the bent tail, the wings move. He sets that among his flowers, then picks up his notebook and scoots on his bottom out of his cave, just around the corner from where he had been sitting. Iliro picks up one of his discarded flowers and holds it in his hands, running his fingers over the petals and regretting. He unfolds it carefully and re-folds it to look like another bird. He does this with a half dozen of the flowers, creating a small pile of birds beside himself before he picks up the sling and slots the first one in. Last time, he had been aiming for a bonfire away from the dragonets. Should he aim for that again, or should he aim closer to the little ones? Their wings are thin and weak, it will be time before they can actually fly, but maybe if he can aim it right...

He launches the next one as the dragonet takes a running leap, and the bird soars beside it in the air. Iliro picks up another bird, and scoots a little further away from the cave mouth, two whole inches closer to the dragonets that Lorsan had encouraged him to play with.

That he had traumatized.

He launches another bird over their heads, and forces himself to acknowledge the link to the dragon. Forces himself to feel the other's guilt and pain. Forces himself to confront it, and send back his own.
 
The adults are watching the human closer now, but he's not doing any harm in launching paper birds at the dragonets. The little ones are even laughing, taking to jumping at the flying things as they soar overhead. One of them, a light lavender, picks up a bird and sets it on her short tail, trying to fling it back to the human. It's not as effective and doesn't fly far enough, but she's not brave like Nayru, so she doesn't try to get it closer.

That same sense of heavy guilt and self-hatred meets Iliro's guilt through the mating link. But it's accompanied by something else. Cold, dread, defeat. Overhead, a patrol of dragons is coming down through the exit tunnel, flying unsteady. All six land between the basking pits, shaking water from their scales. Around them, dragons are moving to make space, urging them into the pits to reheat their bodies. Murmurs from the nearby adults confirm; the rainstorm season has started, and trips outside the Dens would be few and far between.
 
He's smiling when he feels the link reverberate with nothing but darkness. It startles him so badly that when he goes to launch the next bird he rips the sling in half. For a moment he is swamped, completely overcome with those terrible feelings.

He pushes himself up on shaky feet and stumbles away from the cave, away from the dragonets.

Alessa is nowhere to be found, and he has no idea how to find her in this massive beehive. He has no magic to cast a Contact spell so he stumbles towards the nearest basking pit. The heat is immense, even on the outer reaches of the bonfires, and he's sweating before he even gets within hailing distance of the nearest occupied nest. "Alessa!" He pants, hurrying towards the dragons as fast as his healing body will allow him. "I need Alessa, I have to tell-" Iliro's foot catches on a lose bit of shale and he trips, going down hard on his hands and knees. Heedless, he pulls himself up on the edge of the pit. "Something happened, something's wrong, I need Alessa!" He pleads with the dragons in the pit, begging them to understand the urgency.
 
Heads turn when the human starts shouting, and multiple eyes stares. The approach to the basking pits is met with raised lips and warning growls. None move away, but confusion at the human's sudden panic has them narrowing eyes at him. A flurry of footsteps come running from a different pit; Tera and Tikia had heard Iliro's shouts.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Tera nudges her nose carefully against Iliro's side, ushering him away from the heat of the pit. Tikia is staring, wings half spread. With a glance from her sister, the mute dragon takes off, half flying, half running down the tunnel to Eden. Tera continues to gently guide Iliro away from the basking pits. Treya is also approaching, at a much slower pace. Her voice is heard from a distance. "Why are you shouting, little human? Did you hurt yourself?"
 
He jerks away from Tera because he needs to find Alessa.

Iliro didn't want Lorsan to come back as long as he was stuck there. If he had to be stuck in this mountain, he would much rather Lorsan stay with his clan in the desert, but his dens here need him. Ignoring the immense heat and the attempts to usher him away, he looks up at the gaping entrance that the had arrived through as if he expects someone to come through it any minute. He can hear thunder rumbling far, far away, feels the resignation in his heart. "Lorsan's in trouble." The name feels ugly on his tongue, hateful. It feels like the word claws its way out of Iliro's mouth, and he spins blindly back to Tera, grabbing onto either side of her snout with shaking hands. "He's hurt or... or soemthing, I don't know, he's down. You have to tell Alessa that he's down so she can do something." He shakes his head and succumbs to the heat and to gravity and sinks to his knees. "I didn't mean to get him trapped in a rainstorm, that's not what I meant to do, I swear, I swear!"
 
Tera is bewildered, but doesn't pull away when Iliro grabs her snout. She doesn't know what to do, eyes looking to her mother. Treya is just as confused, but seems to have a better idea of what's going on. Alessa arrives just in time to see the Archmage collapse, Tikia at her tail. The green dragon bounds over, scooping Iliro up in her claws, them carefully hopping him over to the dais before the heat overwhelms him. Human bodies are not meant for such heat.

On the dais, Alessa sets Iliro down between her feet, laying before him. The three healer dragons join them, concerned about Iliro's well-being. "Alessa, he started shouting about Lorsan, said he's in trouble." Treya conveys what she'd heard Iliro say, and Alessa turns her head sideways, green eyes watching the human before her. "Breathe, human. Tell me what you can feel."
 
Away from the heat, his head starts to ache and he clutches it.

Things had been so close to... alright. Not good by any stretch, but tolerable. If the black dragon dies because of him...

He looks up at Alessa, his expression tortured. "The rain. He's hurt, in the rain. He can't get here, he's giving up. This isn't what I wanted, I swear, I thought he'd make it back before the storms started." He shakes his head and covers his face with his hands, hunching over on his knees in front of the green dragon. "I can feel him giving up, its like how I felt when he... it's horrible, someone has to go get him. Make it stop, please!" He drops his hands and looks up at the Alessa. "Please I told you I know spells, I don't know how well they'll work but maybe you can get to him, or the hunters. This isn't what I meant to happen."
 
Alessa listens carefully, her claws curling and scraping the stone. But it's not Iliro's fault, and she can't be mad at him. Her wings tremble with anxiety. The healer dragons look between each other. Nobody says anything for a long time.

"..I can't." Alessa's voice is quiet, strained. "I can't allow another dragon to risk their life in this weather. I'll send a patrol as soon as the storm breaks, I promise. But I can't allow anyone to fly out in the rain. We can't use your magics, and currently, neither can you." Alessa's tension could be cut with a knife, but her anxiety is just as palpable.

"Iliro, look at me." It's the first time Alessa has used the human's name. "Lorsan is strong, but he needs a reason to not give up. Please, I know how much you hate connecting to him, but he needs a reason.."
 
His face falls and his body sags with it until he's hunched over on his knees, his forehead touching the stone.

He's breathing heavily, his shoulders are shaking. Iliro wants to throw up, wants to scream, wants to rage. This isn't fair, none of this is fair on any of them. The king should have watched his spoiled child better, he should have listened to Iliro, he should have expanded the farmlands east instead of west. Iliro should have been content with his life of nothingness and remained an anonymous speck of insignificance.

He pours his frustration into their link. Wants Lorsan to know that he's upset by this whole affair. Wants the dragon to understand, and then...

Then he focuses on Lorsan's face, and wants him back. He thinks of Nayru and Alessa and Tera and how he's worried about them. His hands have come up to clutch at his hair and he pulls on it until his scalp aches as he forces himself to confront the other dragon yet again. It's hell to do so, it rips him to shreds, and he wants Lorsan to come back to the mountain so that... so that maybe, maybe, this pain can end. He wants to talk, wants to feel right again in his own skin, and he can't do that if Lorsan dies, because who knows what happens to a mated human when their dragon dies? He rages at Lorsan in his mind, berating him for giving up when Iliro is still trying, even though each time he teies it breaks the frail little bit that remains behind.

And he pushes with the knowledge that it will never get better if Lorsan is gone. Iliro will never get better if Lorsan dies, and if Lorsan wants to make up for what he did, he will hold on and wait for Alessa, and then he'll come back.

Iliro topples onto his side and curls up, tears shiny and hot on his face as he shouts across their link. Hold on asshole, just keep holding on and maybe we can make this right.
 
All Alessa can do is lay her head beside Iliro, offering what little comfort she can. The healer dragons leave them alone, there's nothing they can do to help. Alessa is humming lullabies again, the soft sound rumbling in her throat. Knowing Lorsan is out in the rain somewhere scares her. If he gets too cold.. She clamps her wings down onto her sides, refusing to think about that.

Through the link, there's a faint thrum. Like a candle flame trying to stay lit in open wind. It's struggling, buzzing in and out, but it's there.
 
Iliro starts muttering under his breath, curling up until his forehead is touching his knees. "Hold on, hold on, hold on..." It feels like Lorsan is inside him again in a way that makes something ugly curl in his gut but he shakes it off and focuses on the connection and on Lorsan being back, here, in the mountains with his people. Iliro is angry at Lorsan, at himself, at the king, at fate, at everything that conspired to put him in this position. And he knows, he knows if he doesn't confront this, he will continue to waste away. And he can't confront this if Lorsan is gone so he wants Lorsan back. It's a selfish thing but it's the only thing he has to cling to.

The storm lasts through the night. Lorsan is deaf and numb to all outside stimuli. Once again he refuses food and water but now it's because he's concentrating. Anytime anyone tries to touch him, he flinches away. As long as he focuses he can feel Lorsan and that sucks so much but it's what he has to do to atone for his own sins and to survive the future. The storm rages through the day and into the night and he lays curled in a ball on the dais yelling through this hateful fated link that he never asked for. Never wanted. The storm has passed except for a fine misty drizzle but dawn hasn't even broken outside when he jerks up and flails out a hand to grab at Alessa. "He's too cold, he's too cold, you have to go get him now."
 
Alessa stays on the dais with Iliro, her body a half circle around him, her head on the stone at his back. She does try to encourage him to eat when Tera brings them food, even nudging him gently. But she doesn't push it; she can see the concentration on the human's face.

That faint thrum is weak, barely there. There's long pauses between the moments when Iliro can feel it.

Alessa, asleep beside Iliro, startles awake when the human grabs at her face. She blinks blearily, and it takes her a moment to shake off the fog of sleep. "Alright, alright, I'll wake a patrol. But they need time to heat their scales in the pits before they leave." Alessa stands, yawning, then hops over Iliro's head. The numbness of sleeping in the same position means she has to hop a couple times before she can take flight.

An hour later, a party of six is leaving the basking pits, heading up out the exit tunnel. Alessa has returned to the dais, a small cloth sack in her jaws. She drops it in the Archmage's lap. "Iliro, all we can do now is wait. Please, eat something. You're still weak, and you just skipped a day and a half."
 
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