RP:Why Rock Climbing?!
Summary: Xiem and Neferet have an intelligent conversation as the male white dragon surprised the female white dragon with how kind he is in compared to most of their type.
Broken Tower Walls
The walls here, much like the others are broken and beaten. This particular wall seems to lead to a tower, which has fallen and settled to the south-east. At the base of the tower wall, you see a gaping hole, which leads out just several feet, and drops straight down a cliff. In the distance, far, far to the north, you only see mountains, and forests. You may head south from this area, or west, where the gloomy light over this place grows.
Xiembantointh needed to keep busy and clear his mind, but he can’t just be a normal guy and read or a normal dragon and go for a long flight can he? He’s got to do some asinine hobby like rock climbing without a stitch of support gear or anything and it’s really stupid, feel free to point that out! His long greying hair tied in a loose bun at the nape of his head and his attire is entirely lacking in this climate if someone really assumed he was only a simple human. The loose cotton tee shirt shows no sign of sweat or grime as it dangles lazily against his well built physique and his pants do the same as to not hinder any movement he attempts to make in his workout. His beard, brows and errant strands of his hair spotted in bits of frost which oddly mix well with his bohemian sort of style. Once he reaches the top of the cliff and sees the broken wall once more he grins proudly to himself before approaching a small mound of snow. After dusting away the sheet of snow from his carrying bag (he must’ve been at this for a while!), he takes a canteen out and deeply drinks the chilled water from it before sizing up the broken tower wall. He reaches a hand into a small save that was dangling off a utility belt and rubbing his hands in the powder that was kept in it before he starts to climb the damn broken tower wall itself! Maybe this guy is just insane, no?
Neferet rarely ventured outside of what she considered her domain, though after ice falcon had dropped a letter from Brynhild, she suddenly felt like socializing. There was –another- white dragon in these parts? She had dwelled in Frostmaw for the past decade and she hadn’t encountered another dragon, let alone one of her own kind. Neferet’s first assumption is that it’s one of her dreaded kin from back home, a place she was surely unwelcome. Had father finally discovered her hiding place after all this time? She’s eager to be rid of any hunter, and so she sets out in her human guise, with her long locks brushed away from her face, and purpose in every footfall. The crunch of snow beneath her boots seems to echo, as though it were audible for miles. Few, if any, traveled in this sector of the lands, so as her cornflower blue hues take in the sight of a male climbing the broken tower, she knows that she’s found her target. Sauntering nearer, she fixes Xiem with a heated glare, despising his man bun in an instant, though she tries to take in the man as a whole. He’s unknown, though it was quite possible that her kin had outsourced a White from another caste, so she places her hands on her hips, and speaks in a haughty tone, knowing the wind would guide her voice to his ears. “State your purpose for being here, and your name. Where do you hail from?” Why was he rock climbing, of all things?! Did this male have rocks in his head?!
Xiembantointh reaches the top of the wall and perches upon it when a voice hits his ears and he looks over his shoulder down at her, “greetings, friend!” He wasn’t that high up that he needed to be so loud, but he’s always loud. Precariously shifting himself to straddle the wall and then successfully turn himself around so he can make quick work of getting down, which he literally does by pushing off to land on the snow below in a squatting position. After straightening again to a full 6’7’’, his charcoal grey eyes study only the woman’s face for any chance of familiarity and there is none even though he has a broad warm smile on his face that is only evident through his beard because it changes his whole face whenever her smiles. “I am just engaging in an old hobby,” says a rough bass voice as he wipes some of the powder he used on his hands earlier on his pants and starts to step closer to the stranger, “I was hatched here in Frostmaw, even though I lived out my days elsewhere, this area will always be my home.” Her demeanor seemed defensive already, which is odd, but he will be polite as he always is anyway, “name is Xiembantointh the White.” With his hand held out for a handshake with the other one ran a hand through his slightly wavy hair that falls passed his shoulders, the tie that was loosely holding it together must have finally fell out. For being a creature of frost and known evil, he was unusually warm in his personality.
Neferet stares at the stranger as he easily lands in the snow, descending from the wall with the grace of a feline. He has a jovial nature, which she utterly despises, and her suspicions are confirmed as that hand is extended, and he announces that he is one of her own. A White Dragon. His appendage is eyed for a long moment, though the cryomancer makes no move to extend her own, at least not at this point in time. Neferet was aloof with all, and the fact that he is a –nice- White confuses her beyond belief. They are notorious for being evil, mistrusting, domineering, and above all calculating. A blonde brow is arched as she considers this notion, wondering if the predator was playing Brynhild, and attempting to fool herself, directly. It wouldn’t be a first, as Nef had often played nice in an effort to get what she wanted in the end. Was Xiem merely being sneaky? Something seems off about the male, and she ponders this, her hues locking on his face and taking him in fully. Perhaps he had been orphaned at a young age and since he grew up away from their kin he adopted a friendly personality. Was it possible? Alabaster locks sway in the breeze, and she lifts a hand to brush an errant strand behind her ear, glancing around the area. “Hobbies? I didn’t know that our kind kept hobbies, aside from creating chaos and staying in isolation for long periods of time.” She pauses, sizing him up, noting that he was nearly a foot taller than her height of 5’9”, though she isn’t the least bit intimidated. “Brynhild told me where I could find you. I know the scent of my own, as though it were the back of my hand. Though I haven’t been in the presence of another White in… Decades. I, too, live in this tundra, on the opposite side of the lands. I had to come and witness for myself that another lurked in this region, and to see if what she said was true. That you are kind. That is surprising. Do you truly despise our kind and what we stand for? Why are you not living up to your title? Shall I mentor you, and show you our true nature?” She’d beat it into him, if it came down to it. This male was making White’s look bad, all over, and Neferet wouldn’t stand for such a travesty. “I’m Neferet.”
Xiembantointh doesn’t mind the cold shoulder for it is something he used to get often from white dragons before his hibernation and his hand retreats without shame back to his side. Remaining open in his body language, his gaze kindly kept within her own and that warm smile going nowhere - this man is unshakeable. A hearty chuckle escapes him as he jokes, “well those things got a little boring… No, it was something a good friend of mine used to do and it put some perspective into my life back when I asked him to teach me, but it is just as therapeutic now.” The dragon is visibly relaxed and oozing an infectious joy that it really makes people wonder what the heck makes this man so happy. His eyebrows raise at the fact that now Brynhild is also talking of him, “me?!” Being humbled by it, glancing down in a bashful way, because he is used to just being in the background of things and had nestled happily into the unknown of being a nobody. The fact this woman goes around sniffing people is a bit odd and he wonders if he should caution that she may give off the wrong impression to some people, but thinks better of it when the next words hit his ears. “Thank you for calling me kind Neferet - I only try,” his shoulders shrug up bashfully at her backhanded compliment before he continues. “I despise no one and I stand for things all on my own because I am a separate person from my scale color. I think I am a little old for a mentor and I am sorry for that because you seem like you would be a great teacher!” The sentiment genuine, but the compliment might only be even more frustrating to her and she probably would have rather had him be sarcastic. “What /is/ our true nature, Neferet? Should we really confine ourselves to the expectations to what scale color is? I am a being who is control of my own stars and I could care less how others perceive what my mannerisms must be… Aren’t you your own person, Neferet?” Every time he repeated her name back to her was with kindness and, well, because everyone likes the sound of their own name.
The woman maintains eye contact with Xiem as he speaks, giving him her undivided attention, absorbing his every word, and she takes a long time to reply as she forms her own response. He kept hobbies, he didn’t maintain a stoic expression, nor did he ooze any hatred. If anything, he was the exact opposite of everything she was raised to stand for, of what their kind was supposed to show the world. Neferet was mistrusting of all men, and she didn’t keep friends, though there’s something about this male that she finds herself feeling less on edge, when in his presence. Giving him an honest answer, she defiantly lifts her head, and levels her gaze on his gray hues, “Our true nature, you ask? White Dragon’s are primarily of evil alignment, we prefer our solitude rather than living with our kin, and we possess a most hostile nature. We are territorial, cunning, and we prefer to battle, rather than talk things out. It’s our nature to scheme and have things work in our favor. That is a true White Dragon… Though not –all- fit that exact criteria. Some are more evil than others, some prefer companionship, and others are weeded out of the group for being weak, so they choose death as their end all, rather than live up to the expectations of their race.” She pauses, canting her head to the side, and finding that her full lips have semi-curved in a faint smile as he repeatedly says her name. It’s not often that she converses with others, and aside from the fact that he’s all wrong in her eyes, being dubbed an oppose to their true nature, and a male, she does relish in the fact that she’s sharing insight with one that has the same colored scales. His next inquiry catches her so off guard that her eyes widen, and she sighs, “I wouldn’t exactly say that I’m my own person… More like, I was raised to be this way, this woman, and I know no other life to compare my own to, so this is what I’ve become. I’m content with who I am, and I don’t mind living up to the stereotype.” A puff of air exits her mouth, though the cold doesn’t seem to bother her, being that she’s a cryomancer and prefers the brisk climate. “Tell me, Xiembantointh… Do you believe that we are born a certain way, or that we are nurtured to become who we later are in life? The old adage of nature versus nurture. One what line do you stand?”
Xiembantointh is silent and still as a statue as she talks, but anyone to talks to him actually feels /heard/ and respected, even if their views don’t align. He understands thoroughly what white dragons are seen as for his parents were prominent ones, “yes. My creators came together out of duty to carry on the pureblood white dragons. They were cold towards each other and there was not an ounce of love between them and maybe their mistake was keeping elvish slaves that they left to care for me. Most days their slaves seemed happier than them and I simply observed, but one day they went off to help conquer something unimportant and I was left to pick up where they left off when they didn’t come back,” it sounds like a sad tale, but he is very blasè about it all. “That’s how our kind is though so I don’t lay blame to either of them, but I just didn’t feel fulfilled in the pinhole of being a White Dragon. I felt fulfilled when I helped rebuild their slave’s homes after I let them free, I felt fulfilled when I walked into a tavern after a long day of hard work to raise my glass with humans and those alike to another day lived, for I found them fascinating in how they live their short lives.” His chuckle is found as his voice swelled with pride, “yet… that was nothing compared to how my children overflowed my very soul.” His large hand went over his chest as if to hold in all the warmth he felt whenever he spoke of them, but he’s still declining to speak of his late wife. “Then I could impart my little bit of wisdom that they do not have to follow any destiny that doesn’t feed their soul and now all of them have spread all over the globe, made bigger names for themselves than I ever hoped to do for myself. I like to ponder that I have a small role in that,” the puff of air is an indicator that the chill in the air isn’t bothering her, but something was and this wasn’t his aim. He didn’t clue that in though as he answered her, “we are shaped by our experiences and I believe the only thing all beings are born into are their skin and name, but the rest is up to our surroundings and ultimately up to us. We could take our experiences as something negative and wrap our claws around it to never let that bitterness leave us, or we could leave it be what it is and learn from it because when we learn we grow.” His grey gaze took the fellow white dragon in anew, “Neferet, as long as you feel complete and fulfilled in being the epitome of the White dragons then I am happy for you. We are a strong species and you know that your destiny is in your strong grip, so I am confident that you are living your truth.” The words genuine, but said in a way that his happiness for her doesn’t even matter because she’s not looking for validation. “If that didn’t answer your question, then I am on the nurture side of things and dragons are so lucky because I feel that it’s never too late to be nurtured.”
Neferet listens to Xiem as he speaks, maintaining direct eye contact, both as a sign of respect for the fellow White Dragon, and also to discern fact from fiction. He seems sincere in his speech, and she’s very taken aback by this, as their kind was notorious for being vile creatures, filled with malice and always plotting to somehow spin things to their advantage. Xiembantointh, however, was only considered a White Dragon because of his appearance and birth parents. Nurture had changed him, entirely, and while she despises this factor, she also finds it rather refreshing, though she’d never admit such a thing. Whether the male knew it or not, he was giving Neferet quite a few things to ponder, and she’d likely be up until the wee morning hours thinking about how their views were so different, yet both made sense. Nature versus nurture was always a concept she enjoyed discussing, though it wasn’t until this very moment that she had someone to voice their opinion, and someone in who she valued their opinion. Xiem would have figured out by now that the cryomancer didn’t have many friends. None, truth be told. Her unpredictable and brash attitude often was a turn off, and those that dared to challenge the woman soon learned she was best feared and left to her own devices. “Thank you for answering my question. Tis not often that I find a man that isn’t filled with ignorance, and who doesn’t find difficulty of forming words of actual merit. Well done, Xiembantointh.” It’s the biggest compliment one has ever received from the woman, so it’s wise for the male to accept. Nef pauses, not bothering to return her viewpoint, as he likely already guessed it. She was a White Dragon purely by nature, and she relished in fueling the stereotypical predator that was spoken of with caution, and rarely approached by anyone. She wears her independence rather well, and it’s unlikely she’d ever form a familial bond with another, and allow the possibility of nurture to change her course. “I must be on my way. I just wanted to see another of my kind… It’s been a great many years. Brynhild spoke highly of you, so I presume we’ll be seeing more of each other in the future.” She says this matter-of-factly, not that she’s detesting or excitable about the notion. “I’ll leave you to playing with your wall. Good day, Xiem.” There’s a long moment of hesitance, before she throws her hand out for a parting shake, the first and last one he’d receive from the cryomancer on this day.
Xiembantointh figures it would take a much stronger man than him to nurture this woman for he feels his age soaking into his bones lately, that and he’s raised five dragons before losing his wife which still weighs heavily on his soul. In spite of this fact, he is always kind and friendly with a quick compliment to anyone, but whether this is a defense to hide his grief or the only way he can move on is debatable. “You are welcome and, please, pose any questions my way. I am happy to discuss such logics with a fellow white dragon,” then he chuckled heartily at her insult to men. “Mustn’t be so hard on those of male gender, most not know of what they do,” his infectious smile cracked over his whole face again in his joke. “I am just a simple man trying to make a living, but thank you Neferet,” his hand spread out on his pectorals over the cover of his shirt and he halfway bows to the woman in a humbled gesture. The same hand swats at the air to dismiss anyone talking highly of him, “you’re going to make me blush now,” he playfully warns with another chuckle that shows off his long white set of teeth. “That would be something to look forward to,” he said in a platonic way and waves broadly at her, but with the smile and his size, the waving looked a little goofy like a giddy little kid. Something tells me that he doesn’t care if he looks odd as he is very comfortable in the person he is. “After this, it’s a nice relaxing ice bath with a glass of wine,” a thumbs up before fastening his hair in a low bun again as he jogs over to the cliff to perform a free fall. “GeronimOOooo...ooo!!!” Is all that is heard as the fellow dragon walks away.