RP:A Prince in Desert Feathers
Part of the The Most Dangerous Game Arc
Library of Arcane Knowledge
Satoshi suffers from similar symptoms as most students studying for their finals. Every time she picks up her spellbook and rune-covered paperwork, some new distraction rears its impossible-to-ignore head, calling her away from work efforts. First it was Solace, the calico having grown bored and, in a petulant fit, deciding to knock over a collection of silver telescopes. Not long after cleaning up that mess and chasing the cat off, Satoshi found herself having to play mediator between Trebel and a pair of Frost Dragon hatchlings, arguing over the limited air space of the atrium. A series of similar events later, and the kit is finally returning to her chair and abandoned work... only to stop halfway there, upon spying a pair of Foxlings near the makeshift couatl nest. Earnestly, one of the little creature is taking a featherduster to the eggs while the other polishes them with a rag, both chattering away in excitement. The magus momentarily buries her face in her palm, frustrated. "Oi~! I told you already, they're not dirty an' don't need waxing! Leave 'em alone!" With a shoo'ing gesture, Satoshi chases off the dutiful servants, only to slump down beside the chair-made-nest in resignation. "I give up. Clearly I am not meant to work out spell details today, however badly I need them for the wizard." The eggs, ever silent, of course give no response.
Svilfon hears before he sees that Satoshi is in the library, and though from her comes always an aura of ice, he can feel the heat of her words... or perhaps they were merely so cold they burned. Tossing aside such questions, the wizard pops his head into the library in an attempt to be somewhat subtle, a gesture ruined by his large and altogether magnificent hat, and makes sure the snow queen isn't too irate. Luckily, she's sat down and seems resigned to being bothered. And so he pushes the door open the rest of the way, narrowly avoids the two Foxlings rather rapid escape from the room, before wandering over and taking an empty seat close to the eggs. "You need them for me, lady icicle?" For a moment he grows quiet; his face is still a mass of wounds from where he incited a fight between himself and Hildegarde, before he reaches out and revently pets the egg with the spring-green shell. "What for?"
Satoshi, rather bluntly, says, "What the hell happened to your face?" Because this is Svilfon, and Svilfon you can be painfully straightforward with, where as the rest of the world demands you ask a thousand veiled questions that provide your answer in a severely roundabout fashion. Thank Sven for honest wizards. The answer to his own question is given by the kit waving dismissively at her work, piles of scrawled notes, scribbled diagrams, and various drawings, all centered around the Azure Flames. She's been trying to work out precisely how she means to provide Svilfon with what he needs, an odd thing, considering Satoshi doesn't often waste time with preparatory planning, but as she's staying near the eggs and in a library, it's the perfect chance for research and development.
Svilfon snickers at the queen of frost and snow. He liked her regality, it was a cloak she wore well, but most of all he liked the altogether more blunt side of her personality. For in the wizard's eyes, that is the one that so often likes to spit in the face of death. "A little scuffle, queen, with a damned dragon." Fingers leave the egg, then, to delicately prod his face around the wounds. "Well, not a damned dragon. Though, I suppose some would say being the sworn sword to Kirien is almost the same thing." The wizard flashes a quick wink, then, and grins. "I wanted to make friends, but she doesn't know how to play." With that, he quickly casts his learned gaze of the diagrams. He nods like he knows what they all are, when in truth he has no real idea. "I see."
Satoshi said, "Ah, you met Hildegarde then. Dragon's blood, I take it?" Naturally, she means his wounds, as they haven't healed over yet nor do they look like he's earned them mere moments before. There are few things that can injure a vampire in a long-term fashion. "Taking a long soak in seawater'll help, and feeding heavily afterwards. Unless you like your face looking so pretty~. What did you two, ah," the kit glances quickly at the injuries, "discuss, anyway?"
Svilfon nods his head, "Aye, lady queen. Dragon's blood - she rather smartly pinned me down and covered me in her own wound's blood. Clever." Though, it bloody well damn hurt, the wizard still enjoyed the improvisation of the attack. "And aye, I know - I didn't want to leave Frostmaw long enough to deal with it." He shrugs, then. "It will be fine... some of the giants have even said it's an improvement." A small wry smile dances across his lips at that. "But vanity can wait. The knight and I discussed Kirien more than anything else, though we touched on Emiur's fate... but I wanted to ensure I could trust her, so naturally I tried to kill her." Just briefly Svilfon looks away, then. "She didn't like it, we scuffled, she moaned at me, I told her off, then we walked our separate ways back to Frostmaw... I don't think she likes me yet." He shrugs again at that. "I also met with Saiyah, the naga Kasyr knows. I've sent her to Hildegarde," A small smile is well hidden, then, "to find out what she knows, then she'll go to Venturil and aid us. The wheels move, lady icicle, even if it is slower than I'd like."
Satoshi muses over the wizard's words, as he's given her a fair deal to run through her thoughts--just imagining the dutiful knight combating the cunning wizard is a mind exercise in itself. In the end, the kit shrugs, the gesture lopsided out of habit despite both shoulders now functioning perfectly. "She'll learn. She chose to bind herself to Kirien and the Eyrie, she'll -have- to learn, if she expects to survive among us. I think she believed I was a dragon slaver when we first met, until I set her right. I've no doubt your encounter will just prove to be another useful lesson of the North for Mithril. Perhaps the naga will be another..." In all honesty, Satoshi knows very little about Saiyah, having only met the serpent in passing with Kasyr. All she can recall of the meeting was the kensai giving poor Saiyah a combustible concoction of potions to survive the chill of Frostmaw... and Saiyah subsequently scorching furniture with fire-breath, if Drargon's account was to be believed. "What sort of aid can Saiyah provide? I'm not familiar with her skills."
Svilfon sits forward in a rather fervent gesture. "That's what I said! But she has a sense of honour rarely seen around here, lady queen. Let us hope she can survive." He didn't clarify that he didn't mean those who lived in Frostmaw have no honour, merely that hers was different, but he was sure the frozen queen would understand. "Saiyah is a tracker, a hunter. Or was... is... I don't know. She's weird, mute, but I have heard that once she could stumble across a campfire and within moments know the sex of the horses, the size of the men, and damn near what they talked about while they ate. She will be useful." He smiles. "Those who hunt in the wastelands of Venturil are rarely clumsy. We will need whatever aid we can find."
Satoshi's expression plainly reads, 'I'll believe it when I see it' as far as the naga's rumored skills go. However, that doesn't mean the kit will right Saiyah off as all hearsay. She knows better than that. Rumors always carry a grain of truth, no matter how unbelievable. Satoshi herself has killed a number of people foolish enough to ignore the whispers about the magus' abilities. "Let's hope she's as good as they say, then, because my rangers have been able to find little to nothing. If she can dig up even the -hint- of a more definite trail, we'll be leaps and bounds ahead of where we stand now."
Svilfon is about to reply to Satoshi, before he feels more than sees a change coming from the egg. It had always emitted a sense of patience, of knowing that this was its life for now, and soon there would be change - there was, too, that instinctual desire to be free, but in this egg more than any other there was an understanding of its fate. Yet from it now comes a growing sense of urgency, a desire to no longer be incarcerated within this prison. For what was once a home now feels oppressive, heavy; stifling the life of the couatl with a claustrophobic intensity that immediately draws the wizard's eyes to it. He hears a quiet crack before he sees a thin tendril of white snake up the green-hued shell, creating an intricate pattern upon the surface that grows more and more delicate as moments pass by. From within there is a push, a head that so desperately wants to taste the air outside drives against its prison, pushing and pushing until finally... it gives. Lungs fill for the first time with the scents of frozen life within the room, and there is a feeling of ecstasy that comes from the creature, one so powerful that it briefly fills Svilfon with a surging joy. He controls it, though, watching as the small creature pushes away pieces of its shell and climbs from the egg. It spends a few moments blind, instead looking with its young pscionics, touching upon the minds of both Svilfon and Satoshi. Yet even now, young, curious, there is no intrusive pushing into their minds. It is clear as if it were crystal; merely honest curiosity mixed with a growing sense of wonder at what exists outside the boundaries of his former home...
Satoshi too feels that surge of joy radiating off the newborn couatl, kneeling as she is beside the chair after following Svilfon's gaze to the hatching egg. All Satoshi's former frustrations, sorrows, rages, and exhaustion melt away beneath those waves of purest delight, happiness at simply being alive, free and whole. Without realizing it, the foxkin finds herself smiling, not the faint, ghostly thin smile she commonly wears, but a genuine expression of cheer. The expression only grows as she watches the tiny couatl emerge from the egg, its form that of a serpent roughly twelve inches in length, thin and flexible as a cord. A miniature pair of wings are clamped firmly to its scaled sides, fully formed unlike newly hatched birds, feathers dark and limp with the fluids of the eggsac. Similarly damp feathers are plastered together at the base of its tail, although only nubs upon its head hold promise of the proud crest it will bear in adulthood. And then comes the gentle probing of a young mind, the touch so honest in its curiosity that Satoshi can't help but laugh. There's not a single note of condescending in the sound, however, instead being all mirth and traced through already with fondness for the hatchling. "How do you do, little one~?" The couatl looks from the kit to the wizard as it blinks milky golden eyes, a forked tongue darting out to taste their scents on the air.
Svilfon cannot help but smile at the queen as her musical laughter fills the room. The joy within the air is almost tangible and the wizard briefly has the strangest desire to flick out his tongue and taste it, before with a slight shake of his head he moves from his seat to kneel down beside Frostmaw's queen. Very slowly he lifts his hand and extends it out, stopping it close to the couatl. He wanted to wipe off the slimy covering, but he has no real idea whether or not the newly born couatl needed it. So instead he leaves his hand close enough that the creature can touch him, but not so close that it must as he speaks to the snow queen. "I know already what to call him, lady queen. At least, what we will call him." He knows he must teach him that a couatl's true name must never be known, for there is power in a name for those who know how to use it. "Alahir." He smiles a very rare smile, one that is almost sheepish. "It is a name from where I am from," which is a subject he doesn't often speak about, "and it means 'he who is noble'. I wanted him to grow up, Satie, knowing there was greatness in him." He smiled again, then; a smile of pride not at something he had created or achieved, instead proud of what Emiur had done.
As if reading Svilfon's thoughts, the young couatl begins grooming itself, rasping its tongue over feathers to wipe away the slime to reveal the colors underneath. Like a proper couatl, the feathers hold an array of rainbow hues, but this one's particular shades are not the gemlike vibrancy of its father. While still bright, they do not carry that iridescent quality, being brilliant rather through sheer depth than luminosity, much like the decorative shawls and skirts of the proud desert folk, regal in their kingdoms of sand. Whether these colors will change with age or are an indicator of its final appearance, is impossible to say. Only time will tell. At the speaking of the name then, the hatchling looks up and cocks its head, as if mulling it over, before nodding in approval and rearing up to sit straighter, prouder. It's almost an exact replica of Emiur's own vain stance, that Satoshi is unable to stop her smile once more--albeit it carries a slightly bittersweet quality, at the reminder of her companion absence. "Noble you are indeed, little Alahir," the magus murmurs, earning a psionic pulse of delight in answer from the hatchling. Clearly, it likes the name very much.
Svilfon watches the gesture that is filled to the brim with his father's vanity; something the wizard thought only Satoshi was able to equal. His smile is fleetingly sad, before again it is filled with his normal joviality. The wings draw the wizard in, before he reaches a little further and very carefully rubs his finger across the couatl's head, wiping the last of him down where its tongue could not reach. When done the flicker of delight causes another smile to form, "Not half a day old and already as vain as... a couatl. Your father would be proud." He feels within the unbridled joy of simply being free and alive a hunger was growing, but luckily the wizard was prepared for this. He reaches into his robes and pulls out by the tail a very small mouse. Svil lifts it forward and lets it sit on the arm of the chair. It takes little concentration for the vampire to ensure the mouse doesn't just run away as he watches the tongue flick out again as his golden eyes turn to regard the mouse. For just a moment they turn back to Svilfon and Satoshi, before moving forward with a slithering slowness that seems to show off the colours of his feathers... a talent that seems born into couatls.
Satoshi pulls her attention away from the ensuing hunt to pay mind to the other eggs. While none at present seem ready to join their brother in the outside world, they all give off similar auras of eager curiosity, as if they are aware of the going-ons and are preparing themselves for their turns. It's an oddity that the smallest egg hatched first, as typically the larger--and thus stronger and better developed--of the bunch are the leaders in hatching. The case doesn't hold true among couatl, however, for they hatch when they are mentally developed enough to, rather than physically. Size matters little among a species whose power dwells with their brains. Thusly, Alahir possesses the keenest mind of his nestmates, being the first out, and in turn meaning it's no surprise he has the mouse halfway down his wide-spread jaws by the time Satoshi turns back from checking the other eggs. In time, he'll learn to subdue his prey with a thought entirely by himself, but until then, he'll need Svilfon's aid to keep live food still.
Svilfon does not find it entirely pleasant to be eaten by a young couatl. Holding the mouse in place by force of will instead of a spell of holding meant that he felt the couatl envelope him in the endless depths of his mouth and he even felt within his mind the fluttering final heart-beat of the doomed mouse. But the wizard lets little of this show upon his face. Though he cared very much about the other eggs, his attention doesn't yet leave young Alahir. He watches as the creature finishes the meal, before he reaches out and once again just briefly pets the couatl's head. The attention gives birth to another brief flush of joy; something he would soon learn to control, before the creature makes his own way a little closer to the other eggs. There he curls up. He doesn't sleep, but he awaits the birth of the other eggs. Unlike some serpents or dragons, young couatl do not devour each other until only one remains. They already know each other. So there he would wait for now, every so often stretching out a bit, reminding himself that he is free. Finally, turning from him, Svilfon regards Satoshi with a brief smile. "If you like, lady icicle, you can go rest. Or study. I will wait here a while with them." He reaches out then and just briefly rests his hand on her shoulder. "At least I do not have to give him lessons on vanity. He seems as learned as Emiur ever was." He grins, then, before his arm again returns to his side.
Satoshi flicks an ear toward the hand on her shoulder. Most anyone else inviting themselves to touch the magus would quickly find out how creative she could get with ice. Svilfon is family, however, and thus one she doesn't mind contact with. Kirien's taught the kit a great deal about the simple comforts of such gestures, and so Satoshi makes no move to shake off the hand, only privately marveling at her growth in such matters. When the wizard retracts his hand, the foxkin shrugs, the gesture as much a response to his words as a reaction. "I could use a few moments of quiet, so I'll take you up on the offer. Call me, if any others decide to say hello today? I wouldn't want to miss that~." Especially if it's the viridian one, as Satoshi's grown a certain fondness for that quiet, mild-minded egg. With a quick look and smile thrown Alahir's way, the magus climbs to her feet and heads off in the direction of the study, either to nap or work.
Svilfon simply answers Satoshi with a smile, before he stands and moves back to the chair that sits beside the eggs. He has much to think on, and now his mood was far better he would do so. But his gaze would never be far from those eggs and the newly hatched Alahir. He would keep close eye upon them while the snow queen enjoyed her rest.
Satoshi intends to teach Alahir the art of drawing on sleeping Svilfons, soon as she gets the chance...
Svilfon knew he should have held onto that sneaky stick of charcoal!