Tormented Soul

[.~:EmpyreanFay:~.]

Zachariah sat impatiently upon a large bolder, wings spread and a facial expression that could kill. His ice blue eyes reflected the deserted area around where he sat every detail within his peripheral vision. The gentle wind that brushed against his skin and feathers did nothing to sooth his tormented mind, or settle his nerves. Arianna flashed before his consious, her warm flushed cheeks fresh with laughter and eyes, full of light. It was this cursed land, Airos’s fields and mountains that ended her existance. Land of beauty; Zachariah could not deny, but its people where fowl and twisted. Betrayal was thick in the lands of Wind. His mind was set in this belief for he knew no other; the only emotion present in his being was revenge. Zachariah knew of Wind’s territories, religion, and armies. Although no army was active as of now, for the Lady of Wind had yet to be chosen by Airos. He had a feeling the woman would indeed be winged, possibly a dragon of the Feather Race. Still, Zachariah was not entirely sure but his pursuit for vengeance was fresh and he was still in his youth tormented by horrors only he could relate.

His countenance shifted not, as he thought to plot the murder of the Ruler of Wind. A goal was set and it was his to keep, one he would not break. Zachariah would sacrifice himself to have his sister back, but not before he took down his former Goddess. Airos would feel pain by having her chosen one, her daughter, murdered.

The light dimmed on the Pericolose, his journey would begin as soon as he saw fit. For now he would rest for the evening in a nearby cave. There Zachariah would decide his plan of action, who to ask what questions, and where to go to find the Lady who was chosen to lead his former home into a wanted victory. His eyes soon dropped to his hands in which he formed a solid ball of ice. The ice was a clear blue and reflected his plagued expression which he tired of quickly and chucked off the ravine below.

Wings spread he flew gracefully down into a shallow cave among the great rock within the low mountains. Safely reaching the cave he placed his feet on the reddish rock with a light ‘thud’ and settled near a small spring. The spring looked more like a pool, warm from activity long dead in the massive rock. He calmed his nerves in the only way he could and dunked his head into the warm spring. Red hair dripping onto his meshed shirt, he pushed the ragged locks from his face and relaxed against the rock wall. Wings folded over his body Zachariah shut his blue eyes from the world leaving slumber only a diminutive distance away.

[.:..B.l.u.e..:.]

Saphire bodice lurked somewhere deep within such caves. Her wanderings had led her many places, and she could not remember the last time she spoke herself to be aligned to any one religion. She was a water dragon--a specific breed, whose name has long since been forgotten even by herself. Those that are like her have vanished, leaving their purpose unfullfilled. She assumed that death had come to many of them, those she knew not how or why. Her species was immortal, meant to survive through hundreds upon thousands of years, though death by old age was never theirs, she supposed that many had died out of a sheer unwillingness to live. Without a purpose, the small blue dragon could understand their pain.

She herself currently felt the same. She was a healer's dragon, a breed meant to be the companion of a healer to work beside them, protect them, and assist them, even guide them in some cases. Yet her healer had died in the war. He had been her friend, her adored beloved friend -- the war had taken him and left her without him. Without a healer, she had not purpose, and this is what she knew would kill her. Already she had lost a lust for life. What little she had had dragged her here... for she had not really been searching for a healer to attach to, nor did she feel the want. She couldn't imagine anyone taking the place of... even his name she had forgotten.

Tis a sad thing when a dragon forgets the name of a loved one, even worse when they cannot recall their own. She had toiled hours and hours, trying to remember, but after so many years of hiding away, choosing solitude over companionship, and remaining isolated and secluded, she had fallen away from the world and was no longer the dragon that she had once been.

Yet, now as she worked her way towards trhe surface, from the depths of the cavernous belly, through the throat of the mountainous monster, she knew she was feeling some callings recently. New longings that taunted and slowly pulled her back to a will to live, a will to seek companionship--to rejoin her purpose and find it again. She didn't know why she felt how she did, and no matter how many times she pondered over it, the reason always illuded her. She returned to life, in some context. Her smooth, fish-like scales--small and sleek--gained a luster once more when they had grown dull with dust and sadness; Her body--withered away, small, weak and frail--had grown stronger with more movement, and successful hunting; and her name... unfortunately it still evaded her. She'd growl over it in her sleep, grumbling over it during the day... but it would not come to her, and she soon came to accept the fact that she would never know it again. Perhaps this was a curse to her, forcing her to forget who she had been while she was with her last companion, telling her that now was the time to look ahead, not behind... a name would come to her. She could not go on without a name...

So, in this new light she finds the reason to surface back to the world--out of a dark interior underground, where she had hidden herself away. Her eyes, plagued by years of darkness and only shallow light would need time to readjust, and the small blue drake was prepared to experience the pain of entering the daylight.

Yet, she wanted to see the Dragons. Those of wind, the magnificant creatures so proud and strong, feathered beauties that roamed the sky with freedom and grace. She envied them sometimes, wishing that she was not bound to the earth, but she always comforted herself by the rememberance of the water. Her element, the element that she was so at home within. The sea was her sky, and oh how she ruled it.

Suddenly her thoughts--overrun by images and faint rememberances of the feathered dragons, in anticipation of reaching the surface to see them--were interrupted and she stopped, stock still eyes wide, staring. The shallow crevice provided some shelter, so the blaring sun did not erupt directly into the mouth of the cave. She thanked Heiseph for this, though the reflection at the mouth did slightly burn and force her to squint sheepishly. Her slender snout sniffed the air as a masculine scent traveled to her. She didn't know what to think. She hadn't expected to meet anyone, much less directly in the mouth of the cave she was planning on using as an exit. Immediately upon seeing him--though she could only make out his sillouhette against the light from the cave mouth--she tried to come up with some other means of existed the abyssal of the earth. For you see, she is not a very confrontational creature. If trouble can be avoided, she will do so.
Yet something held her, humans she slightly feared, they were unpredictable and filled with the lives, the elves were too presumptuous for their own good. But this man was humanoid, atleast he appeared to be from his outline, but he had wings. This intrigued her and she took a tenative, yet curious step forward. Her clawed hands clicking slightly upon the smooth stone as he powerful rear legs knocked a few loose pebbles--they cascaded uncerimoneously back down the slope behind her. She winced slightly, but her attention snapped directly to the winged man, her body stopped stance rigid, unsure of how he would react to her once he saw her. She was tanacious and easily intimidated. If he appeared sour towards her, or aggressive she would run, till she could run no more... and only then, if he pursisted, would she turn to fight back. But that was only if he faired unfriendly.

[.~:EmpyreanFay:~.]

Unaware of the small female creature, eyelids closed, his thoughts were elsewhere. On the brim of unsettled sleep Zachariah’s mind worked well past a normal being’s. Visions of places, memories and faces raced through his conscious. Overwhelming numbers of objects soon warded him off to an ill at ease slumber and brought dreams of terrors that often haunted his conscious.

The woods where a beauty; tall trees and flowers as wild as birds, forest floor covered with vines and decaying leaves, it was endless and gorgeous beyond compare. Zachariah identified it as the N’Adinel. The only forest in Heiseph’s lands and the most captivating. He was wandering as it seemed to him, and looking for something or someone amidst the lush green. The scene scared him to a point as he found he could not control his actions or his thoughts. Zachariah now found himself at a sprint, why he was running when he had the ability to travel the skies was beyond him. The sensation he felt was that of excitement and tension. Unconscious thoughts of a woman, who was not his late sister, but the woman he desired to kill. Her lovely angelic wings matched that of his and the light broke thorough the canopy over her slender body. His rage increased as he saw her beauty when she reveled in the sun light, which his dead sister could no longer do. As he advanced upon her his eyes hardened, an ice blue unfamiliar even to him. He was now close enough to touch her, and did. His strong hand placed itself around her slender neck.

Zachariah tried to push himself from his night terror as he began to panic. His dream-self would not with drawl and he wished to stop it. He groaned in pain, feeling sick from what he was about to do. Struggling in reality did not remove him from the terror of his dream. It was a force he could not resist and with no trouble he plunged helplessly back into the dread.

He heard the gasp of the woman he knew not, as his fingers curled around her throat. She struggled, a site he could not bear to watch, but still the dream continued. Her breath could no longer pass through her trachea and she began to wither under his grasp. Her small fingers scratching at his hand that was performing the unbearable task. Soon, tired of the struggle he formed a dagger of ice and plunged it into her back. Death instantanious, she slumped over sprawled out on the forest floor, blood drenching her once pearl white wings. Airos’s daughter was dead and his vengeance was fulfilled. Now for a look at the woman that caused him so much pain, in a devout way. His cold hand grasped the body and turned it so her face caught the light. His blood curdled at the site; His sister’s face cold and dead looked at him with open eyes…

Zachariah screamed. The noise echoed quickly through the shaft and his wings spread in alarm. Still seated on the rock floor, he looked forward with besieged eyes expecting to see nothing but cave. The small blue dragon startled him quite and he looked at it with wonder. Who was this creature that had seen him sleep so unsoundly? He grew embarrassed an ashamed of himself in a way, unsure of what the creature thought of him.

She looked not of Wind in anyway but still he was unsure. What if she is a creature that I hate so? Shrugging off his concern he stood to address the creature.

“Excuse me small dragon, I am sorry for whatever I may have said in my sleep, or for any fear I may have caused you. Still, I wish to know what has brought you here, I am on my way to find said Lady of the Wind and I have stopped to rest.” Zachariah paused a moment and then continued. “I am curious as to what has brought you here…I have not seen many in the Pericolose. Pardon my questioning but times are hard as you may know and trust is hardly gained.” He smiled weekly and then spoke again. "My name is Zachariah.”

He gave the information he so asked of her only to be fair, he knew they both would feel safer if at least they where acquainted. He waited patiently and dreaded if her introduction would assign her to Airos the Goddess he so despised.

[.:..B.l.u.e..:.]

Her skin prickled as she watched the being, whom she now realized was asleep, begin to struggle against an invisible foe. Drawn by tenacious curiousity, the little dragon's body crept forward with a perked attention fully on him. She didn't come into contact with many creatures at all, and when she did they were usually bestial and could be easily intimidated by her own intelligence--they were rarely more than common animals. As she had noted before, she occasionaly surfaced to view the elegant flight of the Wind-pledged flyers, but she rarely came forward even for them.

Intrigued by this new arrival, she relaxed slightly, but never lost her timid stance and tense posture. However, that soon changed. His silent struggling suddenly snapped, and her whole body went rigid as his scream echoed within the cavernous walls, she cringe fearfully as she leapt backwards, claws scraping against the stone as back arched, tail fell out straight behind her, eyes narrowed and a warning hiss bellowed out from her curled lips. Rows of small needle-like teeth made their first appearance for quite some time, but it was far from aggression... mere defensive reaction. She only fought as a last resort, for she was used to the interaction with nothing but fellow preditors, common in mind. And in the bestial world... fighting is a last resort since battle between common creatures usually results in the death of one or the other.

Nonetheless, she backed away from him, skin prickling with electricity as her nerves perked and caught every sound ever breath, every motion that this stranger made. Danger seemed to line every flex of his muscle and every movement of his jaw--but this was merely her perception, after all her curious calm had been shattered by his sudden and unexpected scream. How else was she to react?

Sidling back aways, towards the safe comfort of cold stone at her side, she regarded him carefully, head low to the ground, gentle growl, slightly menacing--demanding he keep his distance--eminated from her throat. Yet he began to speak, and her ears once again heard the smooth trickle of human speach, a tongue so calming so attractive to her that it brought up old clouded memories of an ancient past. Her defensive fear left with a sigh, as her eyes softened as she let his words soak into her like a cooling mist. The water... her eyes flickered towards the pool, but she decided against it. She was small in size for a dragon, but she was still fairly large compared to any humanoid--rising about mid-high thigh. She didn't think the small deluge of water would be enough to comfortably soothe her. Besides, it was too close to the winged man, and she still didn't have the courage to draw near.

Unfortunately, she could not speak his tongue--any words she meant to say were lost within her throat and came out in a strange incomprehensive array of clicks and whistles. Her body wasn't made to speak as such. Yet dragons have a more intelligent way of silent communication--gifts given through birth, developed even before one learns to breath. A form of telepathy, and though like a dragon, many can hear and understand her words, but few can actually return them in the same manner. Images, are simple enough, but words are complicated and take skill and ages of experience to hone to perfection for anyone who has not already learned the art.
But this is besides the point.

She regarded him carefully, her stance relaxing but refusing to draw any closer. She accepted his apology with a sharp clack of her jaws, singling a release of tension on her part, and nodded her head acceptingly. She then tilted her head as she looked to him while he finished his introductions and reason. Yet once again she felt a twinge of fear settle into her heart like a cold tear, freezing her body as she once again considered fading into the black abyss of the hallow earth. Perhaps, she was not ready to face the daylight and the savage creatures above. She knew no enemies, and saw no foe... to her the boundary between Water and Wind did not exist, yet... she knew that many had not and never would feel the same as she--the war had taught her this long ago. The death of her poor companion, rang savagely within her memory, lurking outside her grasp of recognition. But, she crushed that silver tear, and sadly hung her head... shaking it gently and slowly. She did not know where the lady of the wind was, and as she prepared an answer in his mind, she suddenly noted he was not complete. Swallowing the thought, she patiently listened further.

Her reason for being here? She quickly tried to come up with one, but found no lie bold enough to suffice the truth, though she feared he --of wind, she assumed-- would not take kindly to a water dragoness within his caves. She shifted her weight nervously from one side to the other, then stopped and looked to him as he told her his name.

Zachariah? It had a noble sound--a specific ring that attracted her and made her pause whilst a croon gently escaped her throat; it was her approval and liking of the name expressed through one lulling note. Dragons are quite amazing creatures, for they can portray so much in very few words. Nonetheless, she knew she must not remain silent, else she be seen as rude. Which of course she was not.

With a sigh she lifted her gaze and looked softly into his face, still clouded by only a sillohette that she could see. Her mouth did not open, her jaws did not part, and no air escaped her lungs to provide the sound. Her answer floated upon the invisible winds that cannot be seen nor heard except by the recipient. The sound was gentle and double-edged, and held a beauty that no physical sound could bear. Like water, gently trickling over smooth stones as the trees graced the sky with their whistling chorus: it was a beautiful sound, and filtered over to him--mind to mind. She doubted he would be able to respond as many could not, but words would suffice, she could hear and understand them afterall.

.:.:. All is... forgiven. I cannot say... that... I have seen nor heard of the lady. My own path... has been a... cloudy road. Indeed... times are hard... .:.:. a touch of sadness whispered through her chords like poison to a stream as she remembered her own hard times--they were foggy memories.

However, he pause did not last long and she silently continued, .:.:. I can... understand. I am sorry to have... disturbed you. .:.:.

She paused again, and tilted her head eyeing him with an unsure gaze--wary to reliquish herself to him. Names were powerful things... thank the goddess she did not have one to give. Yet after a seconds contemplation, she knew she could not ignore his own willingness to name himself without proving herself rude and savage, so she began again--continueing for the third time.

.:.:. I am a... water drake. My name is...

... I can't recall .:.:. she had argued with herself for a breif moment before finally and reluctantly giving away the truth about her identity. For its true, she barely knew who she was or had been, years of isolation and depression had left her cold so many years... that her life seemed to dwindle away and she oculd only watch it as it wandered past her--never once lifting a finger to stop it's onward force--until now.

Not knowing her name was embarressing now that she admitted it to him, and she immediately fell silent and hung her head slightly--still keeping a wary eye on him. He had wings, weren't those of Airos's love destined to have wings? She feared rejection, but a simple get out she could handle, it was the fierce aggressive rejections that she could not handle. She didn't know what to fully expect with him. For she'd rather be cautious and safe, than reckless and dead.

[.~:EmpyreanFay:~.]

Zachariah leaned in closer. Tipping on the ball of his sturdy shoes to get a better look at the small dragon, his icy stare grew wide as he realized she was not as small as he first percepted. She was the stature of a medium sized dog, and apparently more scared of him than he was of her. He looked at her with a strange curiosity, she was beautiful. A beauty unlike the feathered dragons, one of an antique's disposition. To Zachariah this dragon indeed appeared older than himself and he treasured it, he wanted to learn from her and know what she knew, all aspects of time folded within her being. His fear of her being of a different race escaped from his conscious. All he cared was to be able to hear her words...but a part of him doubted she could speak.
As her stance relaxed Zachariah's grew tense. On the edge of almost tipping over onto the solid rock, all his muscles tightened as he waited for her, impatiently, to speak, or at least communicate in some way. He did not wish to offend her and he waited with anxious gaze looking questionably down on her silent form. His hair swept over and about his face as he slowly brought his wings toward his back trying not to break the moment of shared wonder between himself and the dragon.

But to his amazement the wonder did not cease.

Suddenly he heard the most captivating sound fill the back of his mind. Her words filling the dark void surrounding them both in the ancient cave...the words he knew only he could hear. The sound was so beautiful he closed his eyes to hear it more closely, realizing his balance waned while he concentrated on her musical toned sentences. His blue orbs fluttered open as she finished her words and he looked down on her with new respect. She was a creature of Water, he knew this, for no other realm would hold a water drake, such as her, dear to their hearts. Zachariah's tense body relaxed now and he made the necessary movements to sit comfortably on the rock floor once more.

He sat there, trying hard to remember what his father had taught him about speaking to dragons when he was a young boy of wind. His father could speak to them and Zachariah could once as well, but all these years of suffering and exile from wind caught up with him, and he could no longer practice his gift. Well, he thought, there is no time but the present! Sadly this is going to take some time... He smiled brightly hoping she would figure out he was going to try and attempt to speak to her in return. Blocking all of the thoughts and other distractions from his mind he focused on the feeling that was present when she spoke to him. His face twisted with concentration, looking quite comical if you were not the one making the face. There! I found it! Now, he focused on forming a sentence, which took a good portion of his mental strength. He continued to stare blankly at her now looking into her eyes....finally he felt that he could connect.

Do...not..be sorry... He struggled to continue. It....is....a....challenge. Long break. For...I....have....not done....this for.....ages! Zachariah smiled somewhat sheepishly. Do...not be....embarresed.....One's name.....is not .....of such.....importance. He began to squint now, fighting to keep the connection. I am......of....Water.....myself. Another long pause. As.....astonishing as......that...may sound.

Completing his sentence he signed heavily and scratched the back of his head. He then laid his hands into his lap and relaxed for a while...he was happy he could communicate with dragons once more, although he was also glad she was not a beast of wind. He looked at her now, awaiting the beautiful pan flute of speech to enter his conscious for a second time.

[.:..B.l.u.e..:.]

She had crept back another few paces when he had decided to lean forward. Though the movement hadn't openly threatened her, it had made her wary instinct uncomfortable and she quickly compensated for the slight space he had subtracted in his motion. She feared his reaction to her words, and was unsure how he would take to a Water Drake's existance in the windblown caves. She was more than willing to leave, if he begged her to... she wanted no conflict, and would rather flee than fight.

However, she had noticed that his eyes and body were not holding a look of anger or offensive threat. Those crystal blue eyes--which she could barely see through the black sillohette that was his form against the sunlight--held other qualities. One of which she found comfort in.

Curiousity. The very nature of the term can save lives and forestall attack. For it is curiousity that stays the hand of a murderer, and it is curiousity that pauses the demise of prey. Therefore she knew, until his curiousity was fullfilled, her safety probably could be insured. It comforted her to think that the other shine that lay inside his optics was that of respectful wonder--she could barely see it and couldn't be sure, but the very idea that she might be found beautiful in his eyes fed her pride, and boosted her self-confidence.

Thus, once he had comprehended her words and relaxed, sitting back down against the stone, she crept forward--making up the slight distance she had retreated and even closing in a little closer than she had started. At the location she stopped, she noted that while he sat--not including the feathery attributes that broadened out behind him--she was actually taller than his sitting form. He was not so threatening when the height that she knew he posessed was not towering over her, and this released even more of the built up tension.

However, standing was a threatening mode, forewarning of either a quick attack or a quick retreat, and she planned on neither one. Thus she would hate to give such an impression.

Sliding her hind weight back onto her huanches, she folded her rear legs beneath her and laid her weight down center upon the hind-sight. Her forelegs followed suit, until she was laying directly before him--her body centered, very catlike in proportions. Yet she was still not comfortable--and deciding that he was not going to harm her (the assumption she picked up from his relaxing reaction to her words)--allowed her rear weight to slid off-side; therefore resting her hind-weight on the surface of her left hip. A sigh escape her lungs as tired muscles relaxed painfully for a moment before the sensation evolved into comfortable pleasure. When settled she raised her slender muzzle, and looked at him with soft expressive amber eyes. They depth and perception was remarkably intelligent, and her compliancy and willingness to converse with him eagerly was evident within their deep optic pools. Such eyes caught his bright smile, and if she could do so she would have returned it--yet she did not realize what exactly he was trying to do, so when the strangled words entered her thoughts, her eyes sparkled in excitement and surprise. A gleeful chirped bounced suddenly off the walls of the small cavern that they shared, and she crooned a gentle encouragement as an inner expression smiled joyfully at the idea of conversing once again with a creature of intellect. His words were hard to comprehend, and their disconnection made it slow communication. But she realized it was only partial worse than her own. Her own inner communication had been somewhat disconnected due to the immense time that had transpired with the absence of such speach. However, it was easier for her to pick up the communication once again, due to the fact that her innate instincts and formifications as a dragon permited the telepathy to be a normal part of her existance. Nonetheless, she thought no belittling thoughts or condescensions towards him--quite the opposite really. She was glad that he could communicate in such a way--she soaked in each syllable without complaint, but did allow a shocked expression to fill her eyes as he revealed he was of water.

Naturally, she moved into disbelief, for she could not fathom how a winged creature such as he would not be pledged to wind. Yet he had said he was of water--a nation that was her own, which she had served in warring years. She chirped her amazement vocally in a soft gentle, and friendly croon, noticing his obvious relaxion and noted that he must be done speaking. She realised once again it was her turn, and paused but a moment to look him over... she still saw--with dismay--that she could not see much of him. The afternoon sun had bathed the cave entrance in bright yellow light, and the glare was behind him--making his form little more than a black shadow. She trilled softly her dismay, but quickly averted her attention to what he had said. She shook her head sullenly, remembering his excuse for the name. She liked his effort, but for a dragon... to forget ones name is like forgetting ones self. It broke her heart not being able to remember it. Sometimes she wondered if by recalling the single note and definition that had stood for her, if it would unfog the other memories as well--like a key to open a door. But if she did not remember, she would never know. Unfortunately, she knew the syllables were lost--and she was nameless in this world with a purpose that was probably just as forgotten. What present healer would remember the tales of the small dragons that once served as their companions and protectors during the early years of Algaësia's existance? She sighed, it wasn't worth fretting over.
Finally, she opened up the connection between them for a second time and voiced her responce--using the same alluring, musical lyrics that had echoed in her first speaking.

.:.:. No need to be sorry. I too must... remember... exactly how to speak in such a form. Many... years have past... since I have conversed... in such a way. .:.:.

She paused and again her eyes twinkled with a smile, since her facial visage could not accomplish such a task. Humanoids were amazing creatures--they're physical abilities more advanced than any bestial being.

However the smiling twinkle faded and was replaced by a thankful sadness.

.:.:. But to a... dragon-kind, a name... is very dear. It helps... define who one is. It helps us remember who... we are. .:.:.

She paused a second time, letting the dissapointment dissipate and filled the void with a smile ounce again.

.:.:. But I have... accepted it. As for you... I am surprised. Would one with wings not be in Airos's favor? .:.:.

She asked with an innocent air--completely unaware that she might have struck a sore wound within her newfound friend.

[.~:EmpyreanFay:~.]

Zachariah's demeanor had not changed when she began to speak again. He enjoyed hearing the melodious chimes of her voice within his mind. It provided him with a friendly comfort, one which he had been laking for a long time. He smiled delightfully as she conversed with him; Letting her words filter thoroughly throughout his conscious. The drake was indeed more capable of mind speech than he was, certainly her being a form of dragon would make it so. Although, she was correct in her needing to remember. Her speech was choppy as if she had not spoken in ages. However, Zachariah's was broken in the ways of forgetting, more detached and mangled, plus his words where rough compared to the small dragon's beautiful tones.

He looked into her twinkling eyes, not realizing the smile implied. His capabilities in reading body language were very small, almost primitive. The drake appeared only sad to him, which he soon understood. Her name...It was something important to her and he had been very insensitive with his response to it. In all honesty Zachariah had not thought about what was important to her and he suddenly regretted asking her about her past. Why focus on something you cannot remember when you have the future to forget? His own thoughts were hypocritical, this is true. For he himself was trying to forget but never doing so. He clung to the truth and knew it would never go away. It drove him toward his one goal, even if the effort to succeed would kill him. The drake on the other hand was not trying to forget anything, time had wiped her memory...as sad as it is, he did not find it that troubling and he knew he never would. He could only try to empathize with her, and he assumed she would do the same for him.

The next words turned his face white, her timeless chimes of speech shattered into pieces within his own mind. Zachariah tensed slightly but tried desperately not to show his nervousness. His body sifted strangely, very detectable to anyone who was paying any type of attention. The deep pit in his heart that had been full for a moment ripped open and the pain flooded his face now uncontrollably, his icy blue stare more wide than narrow with a small twinge of fury. Trying to order his thoughts he brought his hands up to his face to hide his expression. He was embarrassed to be emotional, it was not one of those traits men often possessed. Sighing heavily he opened his mouth to speak but no words came unto his lips. Then he tried again, dropping his hands before he spoke. Unlike before he was unable to concentrate to deliver the message mentally.

"I have abandoned my original home, for they have betrayed me and I, them. I have no reasons to return...and Heiseph has blessed me equally if not more than Airos. My gift is that of Ice, how ironic this is"...Zachariah smiled weakly, "it is the only state of my heart when I think of Airos. I despise all of her children!" Shouting almost when he spoke these words, his face twisting with tormented grief. "I have lost my family on account of Airos's guidance, and every drop of hope that remains within me is pledged to Heiseph. Perhaps she will guide me well and appreciate the talents she has given me...my allegiance to Airos was indeed not well spent."

Zachariah's expression was grim. He looked at the drake with a certain frustration. Why did he regret what he had asked earlier? He was not certain, but her curiosity in him sparked a new curiosity toward her. Out of spite he wanted to know more about the miniature dragon...his new emotion was that of a suppressed anger. Zachariah was not sure if he felt this in relation to the drake herself or the question she had asked him to answer. Either or, it did not matter...he wanted to pry.

"And what of you then?" It slipped through his lips angrier than he intended. "You are pledged to Heiseph yet you linger in a cave of wind? Why is this so? I find it hard to be away from the land I call home; Do you not as well?"

He looked at her with a blank expression. His tone was very harsh, which he knew, but how would she react? Zachariah did not want to totally upset her...

Looking at her now, his eyes softened and dampened with guilt...

"Sorry..."

Breathlessly the word escaped from his lips. Slowly he pulled his hands up to his face once more hiding it from the darker features of the cave.

[~.::.alastar.::.~]

She had moved into enemy territory for the want of bloodshed of her most hated adversaries, any people of wind. The woman wanted to feel their blood pouring over her delicate fingers, she wanted it so badly. They all deserved to die. Crimson eyes wanted to watch their demise as they sank into an endless abyss. Albino white hair swayed as a smirk of the devil crossed her faded pink lips. For some time now she had been traveling moving from her home territory to her adversaries’ homeland. Hekara was desperate for a fight. A sigh was heaved from her from the utter boredom she was experiencing. At this rate Alastar would have no muse to fight, even if it was a person allied to the wind. Her bottom lip arched a bit as she blew her bagns out of her eyes with disappointment.

This is ridiculous! Is there not one being of wind around these cursed areas?

Alastar walked along the ground holding her pudao firmly in the grasp of her right hand’s fingers. Her eyes gazed straight ahead without faltering. Her ears were listening for any signs of life. She had not seen anything. Everything was still, everything except for a breeze brushing the trees and swaying their branches. Surrounded by her thoughts, Alastar awoke from her inner sleep to focus on a male figure, a male with wings.

Red eyes narrowed, anger filtered through her veins along with bloodlust. Alastar did not budge to move, she stood firmly behind the winged being. The sights of the drake were blocked from her view since she was positioned only being allowed to see him. Her eyes honed in on the wings, horrendous yet beautiful white wings of a drake, but covered by silked feathers. Absolutely stunning. He must be of wind. The exact kind of person she had been looking for. Her heart leapt with excitement as her bottom lip was traced by a moist tongue.

Finally.

Slowly, behind a small barricade of tree branches hiding, yet revealing, Alastar slide her left hand into the decorative pouch that hung low by her side on her hip. A delicate hand slid in between the closing woven fabric. Slender finger grasped four iron chopsticks, positioned within each of the crevasses her fingers create when they close. The piercing end pointed out in front while the curved butts of the needles were pressed firmly against the palm of her left hand. The man was completely open for an attack, but, she wouldn’t finish him off right away. Alastar craved for more than just a three second fight, she wanted to meet a worthy opponent.

Hekara brought the chopsticks in front of her nose, their long lines crossing over her eyes. The samurai bent at the knees, placing her left foot steadily in front of the right. The young woman pulled her pudao back behind her essence, lining with her spine. The weapons grasped between each of her appendages aimed silently. Crimson eyes focused strictly behind the needles. Patience was soon overtaken by sheer anticipation.

You’re mine!

With a swift flick of the wrist, Alastar released the anticipating weapons. Arm fully extended with accurate aiming, the iron chopsticks left the crevasses of her fingers and cut through the hollow air towards the winged man aspiring to the right of his right shoulder blade. Hekara released the pulled muscles she had restrained and lunged forward, following the air slicing needles. Arm positions swapped as the female samurai brought her left hand back, embedding it into the decorative pouch to grab for more throwing iron chopsticks. The pudao was brought to the front as Alastar neared the assumed enemy.

Now!

Alastar’s eyes swelled with eagerness as her right foot’s track brought her only two feet away from the winged being. Reflexes in her blood snapped to attention. Technique of a true warrior revealed itself when Hekara in one move spun the deadly pudao weaving it throughout her fingers making a slight whistling noise. Pulling her left hand from the sheltering pouch, Hekara Alastar withdrew two more chopsticks and placed them in her mouth, clenching them in her teeth. She maneuvered the spinning blade horizontally desiring to slice the enemy, but hoping he had enough reflexes to dodge the attack it. Alastar caught the hilt firmly in her left and right hands, one at the bottom and one situated at the end, where the blade and hilt meet.

Her legs stretched out holding her body’s weight causing her to come to a graceful but sudden halt. Alastar held the pudao in her hands as a devilish smirk appeared on her lips. Her eyes stared at the man, holding the grin steadily upon her lips. Hopefully her cravings will be satisfied. Her attention was caught though by a strange figure in the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t a human what ever it was. Red eyes moved to the corners to examine the silhouette…it was …a drake.

Alastar moved her eyes back to the winged being. But her thoughts were on the drake. She had heard about them, but she never saw one before. They were deed intriguing creatures to this young samurai. She heard they had many gifts, but that was only in the legends she was told and the stories she read. Alastar’s focus had drifted. Realizing this quickly though, the woman shook her head frantically and bent her eyebrows narrowing the blood eyes in nothing more than keenness. Her focus was drawn back to the man. The one with wings, the one Alastar assumed was her supposed enemy of the treacherous wind. She clenched her pudao tightly in her hands as it appeared slanted across her body seeming taller than her stature.

She was too rambunctious right now; Alastar knew she needed to allow coolness to conquer her desire, only to protect her own health and life. The thought crossed slowly in her mind. Her mind read it over and over again, but…it didn’t appeal to her. Alastar scoffed at the remark.

Screw it! I want to have fun.

Lust of bloodshed and adrenaline rush twinkled in the eyes of this samurai. A hidden smile, behind the devilish smirk was dancing across her lips. It was like she was a little girl wanting to prove herself to everyone who was watching.

Come on, come. Fight me!

[lazy blue]

ooc: sorry, too lazy to get on... *sigh* anyways... I'll have a post shortly... Peira's over here, we're having a slumber party, and so we have a bunch of our other friends over. So we can't really get on right now. We're pulling an all nighter, so you might here from me and/or peira later on in "your" evening, "our" morning. lol

[.~:EmpyreanFay:~.]

Sitting at the open mouth of the cave, a colder wind began to blow. Touched with snowflakes the wind clung to the outside of the cave, rustling the dead shrubs and bony trees that were below near the cave opening. Zachariah pulled his hands away from his face slowly, the temperature change caught his attention.

Winter already?

The weather was playing games, no sooner had he looked up did the monster of mother nature grip the mountain scape. Snow and ice began to pelt from the sky, Zachariah watched with wondrous eyes at the beauty he now saw in the realm of Wind. His auburn hair started to whip around the curves of his face and his attention at the moment veered from the drake that was in his presence to the wintry sight. He pressed his dry palms against the cool cave floor and pushed himself up from his current position. He was once again curious, curious of the beauty that could be found in a land he despised. He remembered times, ones of his home. The landscape was almost the same, less populated, but still, it had been where he lived his childhood, almost sentimental. He maneuvered himself into a standing stature and made his way toward the cave mouth. Winter was his season, although he was not privy to the cold he enjoyed the ice and snow that accompanied it. His cheeks flushed as he met the wind, bitter against his flesh. "Cursed Wind, always ruining the beauty," he murmured under his breath.

"Lady Dragon, come and see the sight!"

He smiled boyishly in her direction and motioned for her to come and see. His wings spread slightly to gather the wind, the icy air that smothered the tiny cave. Turning his head back toward the outside world his thoughts were elsewhere as he realized what was truly coming at him from a small distance. His smile was incinerated from his face with a blink of an eye. Iron weapons of an unknown origin were flying at him with incredible speed, crystal blue orbs lit with surprise and anger as he pulled his white feathered masses sharply against his back. If he was going to be hit at least his wings would not be struck. That was the last thing he needed. A wing injury was almost deadly and very painful, he learned this from the military.

Zachariah had no time to move, he tried his best to duck but, in the process the iron rod grazed his right shoulder and blood poured from the new flesh wound. His face twisted with pain, the impact stung and tore into his collar bone and left, just missing the outer part of his compacted wing. His right arm went limp, and he knew he could no longer utilize his powers with both of his appendages. His hand felt numb, a small stinging sensation within his fingers made him uncomfortable and he knew it was time to fight...or die. He of course did not want to do neither, but chose the latter. Life was important.

Before he could react the agility of his opponent proved strong. He felt his lungs almost collapse with alarm as she attacked him a second time. A pudao swung in his direction. He moved quickly jumping back as it swung forward just slicing the small of his abdomen, ripping his shirt and leaving a stain of red across the open gash.

DAMN IT!

He pulled his right arm against the gash to protect both injured parts, almost doubling over from the pain. His face was flushed with fury and agony. He needed to fight her. She needed to die before he. Swinging his damp hair out of his blue eyes he glared at her. His left arm came up to her eye level, palm out. With blind fury and a radical movement he produced a spear of ice that advanced toward her with extraordinary velocity. He sent more at her, not caring of her origin, he wanted her dead. And she wanted to fight.

Zachariah let out a scream, of pain or invigoration he was not quite sure. He advanced upon her now with spear in hand and threw it sharply at her left foot. Maiming her would do for now. He looked almost insane, his shirt soaked with blood and his hair drenched with sweat, mad in the eyes of an individual. His eyes were lit with the passion of war, willing to die if need be.

The loss of blood made is mind swim but he swore to not loose consciousness, he needed to defeat her if it was the last thing he did. Then a wave of tired consciousness poured over him, she did not fit the description of a woman of wind. She was quick, agile and wingless...

"What the HELL are you doing?"

These were the only words that could come from his mouth, his thought process had evaporated and now he was in the worst adrenaline low he had ever been in. Everything stopped. He looked ahead and saw her in front of him. He felt no more remorse. Pulling his left hand to his waist he held it out, open, palm up. A ball of solid crystal ice formed in his working hand, with an open core, designed to shatter on contact. His icy eyes narrowed and set right into her bloody gaze. He pulled his arm strait back and chucked the ice bomb directly at her face...

"May Heiseph send you strait to Hell!"

Those were the last words Zachariah said before he hit the ground.

[.:..B.l.u.e..:.]

ooc: hey guys, I'm really sorry. These past few weeks I've been suffering from a bad case of the flu. I'm still getting over it, but I should be able to get a post up over the weekend. I'm glad you posted Zach.

I'm really sorry for keeping yall waiting for so long without word or update

[.:..B.l.u.e..:.]

The little blue dragon listened and recoiled slightly from Zach's sharp words. She had not meant to open old wounds, and did not intend to do so in the future. She was not argumentative nor offensive, and she did not go out of her way to make enemies or brew hatred. If anything she was of a very compliant nature, more so than many in this dark world she was daring to re-enter.

She could feel the pain in the rough syllables that washed through her mind, and his sorrow seemed to filter through her, saddening her eyes, and wilting her spirit. She looked softly towards him, offering her sympathies--all the while her own heart felt guilty for finding beauty in the great dragons of the sky. Perhaps they were more horrid than she knew--she'd never met one.

Nonetheless, she was about to voice her apology when an even sharper sword cut through her already sadden mind. She winced, feeling his anger through their brittle connection. His voice was accusing and demanding, and part of her dragon's pride almost surfaced in spite to ignore the words that were harsher than they ought. She'd not meant to pry so deeply. But her overall nature outweighed her natural dragonic tendancies and his soft apology showed her the truth and sincerity in his words. She was not upset, and she humbly went to reply, feeling a shallow sorrow as she knew she had little choice but to admit to her pastless present.
However, before she could utter her shameful truth, their conversation was harshly interrupted.

The air thickened, and the perceptive senses of the little blue dragon stiffened as her eyes flickered beyond her white winged aquaintance. Their connection broke, as all attention focused on the flying form that swiftly attacked her company. Time did not pause, nor hesitate as it quickly played out a story line that the little blue drake could not interupt or join. She was small, no taller than a grown man's waist, and her build was not meant for physical battle. However, she could not stand idly by.
Natural impulses compelled her in two different directions and she felt that she might fall apart and crumble beneath the tense pressure and opposition. A part of her being told her to flee, back to safety... back to the dark. But rebellion spewed forth from a cavernous birth and refused to turn back now when she had come so far. If this was what the surface world had become... it was time to face it nonetheless.

However, this was not the only reason she was compelled to linger, or perhaps even assist. Zach was no enemy to her, and neither was he as much a stranger. So, in residual amounts and scant traces there was a certain quantity of care in her wide, stunned eyes as she watched the scene before her.
However, for the first few seconds he seemed to hold his own, dodging the brunt of her attacks and unleashing rebuttles of his own.
As for the attack, she had yet to see, but the albino hair and eyes were odd, and the wingless apparrition made the drake question her alliance, but the reason for her attack was feint and non-existant.

Nonetheless, it came to a point when the nameless drake could stand no more. That point came as Zachariah collapsed. His helplessness in that breif moment called to her, and she felt a loyalty spark inside her heart like it had once done before. Vague memories floated up to the surface, but did not linger there long before they felt back into the sift abyss of her mind. Yet, the loyalty remained, and she leapt forward defensively, unleashing her potential as a fighter and protector that she did not often portray. In her mind she could not sit and watch as a potential friend was harmed or slaughtered by another, thus until the reason for the intruder's attack was made clear, the blue dragoness put it in her mind to defend as best she could till Zach was steady again.

Her teeth were barred, her lips curling up and revealing rows of sharp needle-point teeth, eyes blazed with dislike--but not hate. This woman had no right. What right did she have to attack? The little Blue wanted to know.
Anger boiled up to the surface of her mind, and she used it to fuel the fight she had inside of her. She was timid by nature and she knew this aggression would not last long unless she had some emotion to feed off of and keep her opinions and feelings strong. Yet unnoticed to her, something else was stirring.

The small pool that they shared quarters with had begun to boil, slowly at first, but it's degree was gradually rising. Slow steam began to condense upon the cold frigid air, and soon the surface was frothing with noise and anger similiar to Blue's own. This was not good.
Like her own anger, the water was reflecting it, and the manipulation was a small gift the little dragon did possess. Yet, after years of disuse, she no longer had the control she once did. Her magical gift of manipulation had attached itself to her emotions, and she nolonger knew how to seperate them. She could teach herself again with patience and time, but she had none of those now... so she ignored the possible problem. Let the water boil and seethe, it was not a problem or risk to any of them at the moment.

Focussing more solely on the assailant, she bravely showed her front, putting her slender body afore Zach. A growl echoed warningly across the space between her body and the weapon of the woman. She'd not yet noticed what injuries that other had taken from Zach's offensives, but she now paused to examine... She could heal Zach mostly if the wounds were not deep, but her healing strengths were minimal without the assistance of a healer.

Besides she was more curious... what had Zach done to the unknown arrival? She now took the time to observe.

[~.::.alastar.::.~]

A smirk slid across Alastar’s lips as the sight of blood boiled hers. Not the hit she was looking for, but it was good enough. Hekara’s legs sprinted her towards the man. Pudao in hand, the swift blade came down across the man’s abdomen. He’s quick on his feet. This man was strong; a suitable opponent for her no doubt. Both of her attacks proved to take some damage upon the winged being. The staining blood was a definite give away.

The limpness of his right arm also would be a handicap for him. No matter, Alastar was deprived from fights for a very long time. This one, perhaps, would make up for all the ones she missed out on. Blood red eyes watched the man jumped back from her last attack. A flushed face of fury and agony...he was going to fight.

Good…the butt of the pudao struck the ground with a slight force. Alastar eyed her opponent. Crystal blue orbs were filled with blind fury, anger that would surely blind his discretion. The pole of the weapon crossed slanted across her chest. She brought her hands together creating a triangle with her slender fingers. Unfortunately, as she was about to cast an illusion, a sharp gasp crossed the frost bitten air. An ice spear was heading straight for her.

She quickly jumped off to the side just barely dodging more of these oncoming missiles. A cold icy sheet skid across her cheek, drawing blood. While another spear cut strands of hair from her head as she ducked. Her hands pushed off from the ground. Another one barely missed her legs. It ripped her pants. Red eyes glanced behind to see the cloth embedded into the ground with the tip of the ice. Alastar flipped her pudao to knock away one of the last icy spears before hearing a scream of invigoration from the man.

The samurai quickly stepped back. White hair, soaking wet, glued itself to her face. The bitter air stroked her face, beginning to numb her delicate hands. As the man advanced towards her, she drew closer to his essence as well. The unexpected throw of and ice spear pierced the woman’s foot. A scream of pain echoed into the air. Alastar whipped the butt of her pudao across his face. It was hard when it made contact. A definite hit hopefully. The smacking sound it would make if the contact to the jawbone was made would echo. Anger filled her eyes.

Blood filled eyes never faltered from the prevailing enemy. She firmly gripped the spear, yanking it from her foot. Dropping it off to the side, Alastar leapt back from him. He is indeed an admirable opponent. Just what she was looking for. Hekara looked back to him with a battle fury smile on. His question was such a stupid one. She shrugged playing along with his stupidity.

“What does it look like I am doing?”

Her eyes lightened in curiosity as she watched the man’s movements. She drew another step back away from him. The ball of ice did not look like a peace treaty to her. Her upper lips twisted, curving to a look of disgust. Alastar held her ground. She brought the pudao across her face, bending her knees. Cold feet took a sharp step forward. Alastar swiftly advanced towards the tiring man. She twirled the pudao, readying it for the final hit. Blood eyes lit up as they honed in on the ice ball advancing towards her

Hekara stopped in her place, skidding slightly across the frost bitten ground. Lungs collapsing at the sudden hurl, Alastar twirled the weapon, creating a hopeful barrier. The explosion of the ice ball shattered. A scream of surprise escaped into the air as the ice shards dispersed. Slicing the skin, and her cloths. The ice shards couldn’t be blocked fully. Luckily her pressure points were protected from the pudao’s movements. Although some did come close.

The explosion threw Hekara back. Her feet skidded across the ground. Her hands were gripped tightly on her pudao. Red eyes shot open wide as she made impact. A large tree abruptly stopped her. Her back slammed into its choppy bark. Blood drops were coughed up the moment of impact.

Slowly regaining her, Hekara found herself to be quite durable, but this man…he was strong. Blood dripped from clean slices. Her clothes were torn, her white albino hair knotted. Alastar was officially riled. The samurai woman took steps, her legs shaking in the slightest ways when her weight was applied. She drew closer to the unknown Zachariah. A devilish smirk on her lips.

"You are indeed an admirable opponent."

The smirk disappeared at the sight of a small drake stepping in front of Alastar's prey. Rows of sharp teeth threatened her. Nonetheless, the woman did not react. This creature meant nothing to her as of right now. It was just an obstacle, keeping her from fun. The growled annoyed Hekara. She narrowed her eyes in disgust as he small drake observed her. Alastar embedded the pudao into the ground and brought her hands together. A triangle was formed by both index fingers and thumbs. The frame captured the drake. Alastar caught the eyes of the creature and unnoticeably sent an illusion into its eyes.

"You are of no importance to me little one."

Hekara Alastar moved off to the side while her double stood in front of the drake. through the drake's eyes all it should see was Alastar standing in front of her pudao in hand. The real flesh and bone samurai moved behind the drake. She drew her second weapon, the sword with a peacock feather stretched from hilt to tip of blade. Alastar bent down. Her right hand grabbed the collar of the man's netted shirt lifting him off his feet in a choking manner. Alastar brought the blade to the slim of the young drake's neck, killing the short illusion she produced.

"I'm going to kill every bastard of wind that exists in this hellhole."

The grip around Zachariah's neck tightened. a smirk only the devil should wear appeared on her face. bloodlust eyes watched in sheer delight of the winged man's sufferings. There was no escape.

[.:..B.l.u.e..:.]

Blue watched the scene display before her, and she found some satisfaction in the pain that Zachariah had inflicted upon the assailant. The little dragon still fumed with irritation at the unprovoked attack , and as the assasin spoke... that anger only boiled more. It was cocky, arrogant, and self-reliable. Blue didn't care for it, and as if to prove her disgruntled expression, the pool that had once been chilled and refreshing hissed dangerously as steam gushed from its surface. Its height had lessened and the spring screamed with inward protest to this waste of its volume. Yet, Blue didn't notice, and something else was stirring inside her consciousness.

She was not terrible miniature. No doubt, she was smaller than most dragons, but her height still secceeded the waste of a full grown adult male. She was formidable even in her short stature and slim weight. It was fool-hardy to underestimate her, as this woman was.
For Blue was not ignorant, and the albino's words held the inner meaning that the dragoness interpretted. The woman was not taking her seriously, and this also riled the drake. Her fury, aprehension, and anxiety bubbled into a terrifying amalgamation as her head lowered methodically, and her skin seemed to rise from the bones... almost equivalent in guesture as a dog raising its hackles and bristling its fury. Her snarl increased as well, and her teeth opened slightly, prepared to bite with strong powerful jaws. Her talons tensed, and the gentle scrape of the ivory on the cave floor echoed shatteringly across the chasm.

But the woman only stood there; she smirked and smiled, taking up a desired position, and then she did not move. She did not falter and her expression did not change.
Blue quickly began to assume suspicious of devilry, but by the time she began to notice any hard facts that would enduce reality, the real antagonist was already behind her, sword at her throat, hand around Zachariah.

Even as the realization dawned on her, the moment was shared by the unknown Alastar's words: "I'm going to kill every bastard of wind that exists in this hellhole."

They were not of wind! And the little blue drake realized the mistake that she had made was playing out a second time, but now in the hands of a far deadlier, more ignorant, form of foe. Blue didn't respect the woman's bold antics and sudden attack. Zachariah was not of wind, and this new company assumptions would lead to the death of an ally.

Quickly a conceived reaction came into Blue's mind even as her initial chose of words echoed forth from the chasms of her mind. It's penetrating reach sliced into the mind of this, "alastar," and portrayed a brutally blunt phase.

.:.:. Then you should consider your opponents before your attack... .:.:.
The words began slowly, gradually picking up added vigor as she continued,
.:.:. ... for their is no beast of wind HERE! .:.:.

The end of this outbreak was hard, blunt, and she slammed it towards Alastar with all of her mental power. Not only did she attack with that one phrase, she assaulted Alastars mind with images, words, histories, pasts, old memories, new ones--even conversations with Zach--and berated the assailent that clutched the unconcsious man's collar. She continued the stream, throwing in things with brutal might that held no restraint.

For like most dragons, she could speak through a telekinesis to others, even if they could not return the call. All she did now, was cast images and memories quickly and relentlessly across the connection. It was a blatant and mind numbing attack even for her, and she felt her strength wan as she continued the strain.
Yet as suddenly as it came, it quickly ceased, and hoping that her barrage of imagery and sudden connection with a hopefully unprepared Alastar would bide her the hesitation she needed.

Not heading the blade at her nape, she swiftly turned with an agile twist of her delicate frame. Jaws sought flesh, and eagerly snatched for the tender wrist that held the "padou." Her snout seeking it with vengeance, enraged at this woman's defaulted hate. The albino's recklessness could cost the nation of water two unnecessary deaths... if Zach was not dying already. Blue couldn't tell, and wasn't wasting the time at this point to look.

As a companion drake, she was willing to risk her own safety for the ones whom she followed, and though she owned nothing to Zach... she liked his company, and enjoyed the sociable opportunity. She'd not let him fall without at least trying to help.

And so, relying on a bold hope that her mental distraction had gained some leverage in the situation, blue's jaws aimed for delicate hands, as talons reached for shoulders and torso. She was a large dragoness... and she had every intent to bring Alastar down, if she could. Perhaps her momentum would be enough, but it couldn't be surely stated.

If this unknown assasin would only listen for a few breif moments to understand... perhaps her hostility could be lessened... optimistically... eradicated.

[.~:EmpyreanFay:~.]

There Zachariah lied. Face up on the damp floor of the cave. His brows furrowing. Pools of blue squinting and tearing with unrelenting pain. His face was a dreadful white, a ghost against the grayish stone of the cave floor. His clothes were a beautiful shade of glossy red, drenched with his own blood. Cautiously he pulled his right arm tightly against his gashed abdomen and let the scene play on around him. There was nothing for him to do, except hope that he would soon become the target once again. He was slightly afraid for Blue, he did indeed underestimate her in battle for he had never seen her fight, and he prayed to Heiseph that she would live through the next few moments...

Even if he did not.

He could hear the muffled voice of the woman in the background. She sounded so far away and yet she was a few small feet from his own body. Zachariah himself felt far away from his own body. His wounds continued to bleed, he was loosing blood quickly and his complexion showed it well. He himself could not apply the right amount of pressure to make the blood flow cease.

Zach's right arm was unmovable it seemed, and was causing some obvious discomfort. Pins and needles tore from finger tip to the upper flesh of his chin. The soft skin of his abdomen, a wound that was deeper than he had expected, was tremendously tender. He faded in and out of consciousness and the pools of red that began to form around him were not a sign of good fortune.

The next thing Zachariah felt was no where near a warm fire and a comfortable bed. His shirt was griped tightly and he was yanked from his solitude...a simple lounging position on a damp cave floor, into the air. A tearing noise ripped through the cave as the fabric stretched with his dead weight. The sudden movement made him rather nauseous. He closed his eyes as tight as he could to try and rid his stomach from the unpleasant churning, wishing for the pain to go away.

Still, he knew he could not give up.

He pulled his head up to face his opponent dead on, his sweaty locks dangling over his brow line. The Albino's blood-red eyes looked into his brilliant blue orbs and she began to speak. He could hear her clearly. Her words upset him and made his temper flair, his cheeks flushing amid their pallor. He looked at her with a hint of disgust, his face twisting with anger or the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. But soon, Zachariah found his voice, or as much of it as he had lost. He spoke softly and hoarsely, enough for only her to hear.

"Woman, I am Not of Wind...I have given myself to Heiseph...she is my Goddess of choice."

Zachariah coughed as her grip tightened on him and his icy eyes peered around frantically. His small remaining supply of oxygen continued to be cut off and his thinning blood continued to drip from his shirt, like rain, onto the cave floor. His wings fell behind him, useless, withered, unable to control or move. He was in too much pain. He needed to find his strength, which at the moment, seemed miles away.

Finally he noticed Blue.

His savior. The Lady Dragon was truly a brave one. She was about to attack the samurai, a break Zach had been waiting for...His eyes lit up with a speck of hope as he watched the toned blue drake lean in for her kill. As her strong, thin jowls searched for what appeared to be a vulnerable area of the woman's hand.

This was Zachariah's chance.

He focused on what energy he had left and calmly searched for the opposing appendage that gripped the scruff of his shirt. Slowly, he pulled his right hand up as well and followed suit of it with his left. The pain was searing and the blood trickled in thin lines, but he refused to let it ruin his chance to survive.

Spreading his large white wings he stretched them out and retracted, pulsing once to arrive at a height just clearing the muscular arm that had him suspending in mid-air, if in fact the woman was still holding on. Releasing his strangely tight grip, he pulled the white fingers of his left hand into a fist and thrust it at the unknowing woman. Even though he was disoriented, he knew his target well.

Her temple.

Anticipating his blow to be accurate, he could only pray that her grip on him would cease to exist. Maybe then they could come to an understanding...If one was possible.

[~.::.alastar.::.~]

Alastar’s grip on the winged man was tight. Her hand clutched the collar of his netted shirt and her durable wrist curved in so her knuckles pressed firmly against the Adam’s apple of his throat. Alastar smirked to herself. The sword was placed perfectly in her eyes so that this drake was paralyzed unless she wished to bleed to death. But what brought the smile upon her face the most was the suffering of the unknown Zachariah, the one she assumed was of wind. The smirk held firm as she played her cards just right.

Crimson eyes widened as a sudden chill shot up her spine. A slight gasp escaped her lips as a penetrating feeling sliced through her mind. The grip on Zachariah became shaky. Images, conversations, histories were being slammed into her mind along with the drakes mental voice. Alastar shut her crimson eyes tightly. Her teeth clenched together as a grunt of frustration filtered through the baring teeth. With a simple stroke, blood colored eyes shot open wide. Her teeth were flashing showing the enraged being she could become. She craned her neck towards the drake pin-pointing the cause of these abrading imageries. The pestering drake was a nuisance as the memories penetrated her mind. Her eyes moved back towards the man she held. His voice was hoarse and hard to make out, but he spoke just for her ears.

What is this?! No one of wind? No…it’s a lie! This man, he has wings! He’s pledged to the damn goddess of wind! He’s an enemy!

“Aren’t you!? Bearing wings like you’re one of those filthy beings…you have to be!”

The images were becoming fiercer. It was like pelting rain against her head during a migraine. Alastar’s blood red eyes looked back at the water drake. The barrage of images and histories ceased. A grunt pressed between her clenched teeth as her eyes watched the drake’s movements before fully comprehending what was happening. The samurai woman let out a scream of invigoration as she realized what was happening. The blade at the drake’s slim neck didn’t phase the beast. Alastar’s eyes widened at the flesh-seeking rows of sharp teeth.

Dammit!

Zachariah began to pull away. White wings were pulling him away from her body. This wasn’t good. Two people were about to strike against her…she needed to get rid of one. Given very little time to react, Hekara released the collar of the winged man’s shirt, relieving the pressure against his throat. As her hand released, the albino woman quickly brought her foot up with one swift movement. She curved her body and sideswiped the man across the cheekbone with the front of her heal. The speed backed the sudden kick. Alastar’s hope was to get him a safe distance away from her.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough time to avoid the drakes seeking teeth. Red eyes shut against the pain as she felt deadly teeth sink into the flesh of her wrist. The sword dropped from her hand. However, not willing to lose, Hekara bent down catching the sword with her opposite hand and swung it at the neck of the drake. Alastar needed to regain herself. Blood streamed down her wrist. Crimson liquid reflected in the eyes of the woman. The teeth marks curved around in a u-shape just missing the vital.

She looked up at her opponents. Her teeth were bearing and her eyes narrowed from frustration. Too many wounds. She had hers and she dealt her fair share. Alastar scanned the area. The environment was harsh as the winter chill blew and the snow fell. Water trickled down her face taking some blood with it. That man’s sorcery shattered in front of her. Most damage was received then, but now. Her eyes moved to the drake…the wrist went numb. This was unexpected. If he was not of wind, then she was fighting her allies…now that is just wrong!

Alastar stood firmly on the ground looking at the two. She brought her wrist to her chest, pressing the wound. She leaned on her sword as its tip buried itself into the hard frozen ground.

“You…”

The samurai woman gazed at Zachariah. She grimaced at him, disgusted by his white wings. How could he be of wind? And if he was of water…what business did he have being in the territory of wind? Same for the drake. If she is not of wind either…then why? Hekara knew why she was in the territory of the enemy; it wasn’t a very good reason, but hell. It was all she needed.

“Are you friend or foe. Your appearance throws me off. You bear white wings and yet you claim you are not of wind.”

Hekara hates fighting her allies for no reason. It was a misunderstanding…and for this one time only…she was willing to listen.

[.:..B.l.u.e..:.]

EDIT : new bottom half

A victorious thrill raced across the insincts of the small dragoness. However, it was short lived. Though her attack had been successful her disregard for the blade at her throat cost her a chance of blood as the edge--nolonger fully controlled due to the stunningbarage of Blue's attack--dug shallowly into the plating of her fish-like scales. Not meant to guard from so thick a blade, the metal managed to cut deep enough to draw blood, but shallow enough to avoid any true damage other than a wound of the flesh.
Besides, with her firm hold on the assailants wrist, the weapon was soon disregarded as the white-haired woman attempt to releive herself of Zachariah's stirring mobility.

Blue had set in her mind, to hold her grip no matter what balance of pummelry the women would dare to deal upon her head--for her skull was thick, and the hard bone that formed the plating across her forehead and down her snout would prove formidble to any hand blows the woman would wish to inflict.

Unfortunately, the ambidextrous woman had other plans--more effective ideas than the comparitively small drake had hoped for.
Moving with the woman, Blue placed her weight down and backwards, dragging the assassin with her.

Her size underestimated her strength, and even so she was no munchin, rising a few inches taller than the infamous wolf hound, she possessed agile muscles and tendons that could easily overpower small prey. Human, if smart could elude her. But if she truly wanted them dead, she could accomplish the tasks. It would be unwise to think of the little blue drake as a minimal threat. When provoked, she no pleasure to handle.

Nonetheless, she could not maintain her grip as she was vacantly aware of the metal returning to the hand of the possessor. It's hungry blade passionately sought her throat against, but this time with enough momentum to truly cause death inflicting damage. She had no choice...

... the little blue released her savage hold.

Quickly withdrawing she fled to a safe distance, but remained within a definative proximity. She could easily leap back in if necessary, but for now thought it wise to stay just out of hands reach. Her lips snarled and her eyes still burned with a feverish dislike that was compiled of distaste for the unknown Alastar's methods. To kill first and ask questions later was foolish. The drake worried that perhaps the woman possessed a blood-lust for murder, and thus the drake did not release her guard and warily stalked a circle around the white-haired aggressor.

Her steps required all four clawed limbs upon the ground, and her head remained low, her tail stressed out for quick balance. Her movements were no less than a cat's--as most of her bodily conformation resembled the feline structure. A low hiss emenated from her narrowly opened jaws--newly stained by the woman's blood, and the drakes dark eyes did not meet with Alastar's again. The last time she observed those blood-shot eyes, the drake had found herself seeing one story while living another. She would not fall again to such devilry whatever it may be.

Continue her hiss and stalk, she moved her circle towards Zachariah, wondering the extent of what had been done to him.
Alastars words... she didn't respond to them. They were more to Zachariah.

___________________________________

Suddenl and unexpectantly, something filled her body with a fierce fire. Emotions surged through her as old memories flooded her conscious and demanded her attention. A desire nagged at her will and she staggered upon her feet, fighting for balance. Her head was swimming within a barage of contemplation as fire filled the very pores of her skin, and molten heat surged through her veins.

A painful trill echoed through her lips and against the walls of the cave, as she shakily maneuvered towards the entrance. Her body felt light, wieghtless, her head felt feint.

This sudden onslaught confused her and left her dazed... it was a calling, but she had yet to recognized it. Since the death of her last comrade she'd abandoned the surface and forsaken her nature, relinquishing a life and skill she had once had. Now that she had chosen to return... it flooded back to her as the sunlight touched upon her skin--even in its wintry valor. It was an awakening that one in her position went through each time their lives changed. Each time a purpose was laid out before them.

It pained her, hurt her, set her afire... and she could not stop it, could not control it. The small shallow spring within the cave became a raging fury as it matched her uncontrolled emotions. It boiled within its space and seethed with foam as it fought against its containment. The heat it produced steamed wildly in the cold winter air of the mountains, and its hiss was far from silent.

And yet... as quick as it came it faded suddenly...

SHe found her footing solid, and braced herself with all four, catlike pillars, as she caught her breath in ragged heaves. Her jaws, half parted to allow pent up heat to escape to cool her reptilian body. She was confused, but for a moment she was left to think.
She was a healer's dragoness, a guardian, companion and assistant at times. She was an important counterpart to a chosen healer's life. Such companions were picked precariously by the dragon--whose own intuitions guided and decided upon the own they would link with.

Such "feelings" could be random, strong, cryptic, and/or weak... and once realized they could hardly be ignored. Part of the legends go to speak, that Heiseph is the patron of the elves... a "healing race" and that in her favor of them... she bestowed to them the draconic race of drakes such as the little blue. Such a subbordinate breed was to help them in their journies... guard them, and protect them in the dangers of the warring world. So that is the myth behind the water drake's existance.

Only now did blue stop to consider the true likelyhood of divine intervention.

Again.

Pain, sever and undaunted ripped through her body in a shocking wave. It wracked her small system, and her muscles went rigid, her body tilted, and her knees buckled. Collapsing upon herself, she slumped to the stone floor, just before the entrance. Cold air engulfed her, but did not lessen the fire within her. This wrath was harder, more firm. It squeezed down upon her, pressuring her lungs and breaking her bones. Her eyes, wide and glazed stared blankely at the wall as he mind went numb to the pain, and blackness swarmed in swift clouds about her vision. Her body began to throb... as her life faded away from her and she became more seperate than one... but this was not death.

Her body changed... her muscles strethced, her skin faded away and new plating formed. Her scales soften, fur spread out like wildfire across her new hide. Talons became claws, and her snout lost its reptilian shape. It became boxed, her nose soft as velvet and her eyes clear and gentle. Her boned plated crumbled away from her, leaving the bridge of her nose exposed and vulernable. Her body compensated for the lack of armor by instilling a new defense. Sharply curved horns, pulled out from the back of her skull and ran down the sides of her neck as her body lost its catlike proportions. Her marrow became less dense, her legs became shorter, her tail longer--and the spade exchanging itself for an oxen array. Her hold body twitched and convulsed, but she felt none of it--and her eyes continued to stare with a glassy expression that seemed vacant of a soul. Temporarily... she was somewhere else.

After several, long strenous minutes... she finally revived. A new breath came into new lungs as she leapt up from her fallen position. Her start was understandable, her body was different... it was new. It held a lightness to her that filled her with revitalized strength, new energy, and freedom. She seemed to drift gently back to earth with a feather-like grace... instead of falling into impact.
Reaching the ground, she found it awkward... it was different someone. Her long torso, was stretched out, it did not compensate well for ground movement anymore, and her long extended spine dragged partially upon the ground. Her senses tasted different to her... still as keen as they were, they had a new vibrance to them--a more lively feeling... more attentive, less cold.
The change added a sudden life to her personality as well as necessity. Desire filled her as she wished to fly, but she looked quickly towards Alastar and Zach... she could not leave him.

Yes.

She had to... something within her compelled her to... she couldn't explain it, but she recognized the feeling. Like a lost love finally knowing that your beloved had returned from war... she could not wait to flee to him. Him...? She didn't know who he was... and yet she still knew she had to go to him. It was a necessity that endangered his--whoever he is--life, but it was a neccessity that nagged at the fibers of her being. She could not linger... as much as she felt she must--her devotions were being directed elsewhere, and she could not disobey. She feared Alastar's intentions, but perhaps... things were well now... the assaillent seemed suddenly complient and willing to discuss... perhaps she could afford to depart. She could afford to depart.

Flashing Zachariah an apologetic look, she offered him some words of apology and breif explanation--stated that she must go... and urgency is calling her. She hoped he would not discriminate against her for her sudden and unexplained departure, but she had to go. She felt it her new duty... and she revelled in the idea of not being alone again--of finding that partnership that she had been longing for and lost. He should not judge her for that.

Unable to stay--lest she change her mind--she suddenly leaped off the cliffface of the entrance, falling breifly before a strange new magic bore her aloft.

Though she boasted no wings, a new power had been blessed upon her with this sudden evolution. A gift that would prove an advantage to her new task. She floated upon the air, effortless and weightless--defying gravition with the innate magics of her kind.

Evolutions were not uncommon among her race. That is why, so many water drakes come in a large variety of shapes and sizes. Each new "companion" required different strengths, different attributes to better conform to their own needs and usefulness. Thus, apparently... this new calling--this new companion, needed more than what she could offer in small size from the ground. She anticipated this meeting...wondering if he knew what power he'd awakened.

And yet... as she flew effortless upon the winds, heading at a swift pace towards the realm of earth, she wondered if another companion was what she wanted. She still had faint memories of long ago, her past occupation, her past usefullness... did she truly want to forget him and move on...?

she shunned herself... she barely remembered him even now--nolonger having even a name to relate to the shadowy face in her dreams.
No, this was a new chapter to herlife. Heiseph's blessing, and new start. It was time to erase what was... and focus on what is.

[.~:EmpyreanFay:~.]

Zachariah gasped frantically as he was released. He fell at an alarming speed onto his back, giving him just enough time to pull his aching wings close to cushion his small fall. When he hit the cool rock, what air that could fill his lungs left them leaving him withering and wheezing. His arm still clasped close, the feeling in his abdomen and upper arm was completely obliterated. He felt numb.

Cold through and through.

He noticed his manufactured bomb had done very little, if at best startling the woman who had judged him and the drake all too quickly.

Zachariah peered up at his foe with watery blue orbs. His vision was blurring, a sign of too much blood loss. The lines of his face were now visible; his boyish glow fleeting from his pallid face. He had been caught off guard, or so he thought. This woman was tragically beautiful; he feared what mayhem she could cause, and whether or not she was an intellect, or a merciless killing machine.

He caught her words with his breath, slowly and meticulously. Luckily he was conscious enough to comprehend and possibly end this unfortunate quarrel. Except, something was missing. He remembered catching the remorseful words of the magnificent blue drake that had once been at his side. He mourned her quick departure, but understood her manner for parting. There was nothing he could do to prevent her from leaving. She was her own entity, as was he.

He coughed briefly, hoping he could find his voice. After contemplating for a few moments he proceeded to answer her demanding question.


“Lady,”

Said he,


“I would be a friend…”

He flashed a very week smile, almost a smirk. Pulling in oxygen had become painful and a searing sensation in his lungs had started to annoy him. All efforts to heal him self were now spent, nothing he himself could do would ease his suffering.

He peered knowingly at his own immobile figure, hoping she would get the point.


“Except, it seems to me that you have prevented that. Although, I am indeed of Water, I am of a dying race. Empyrean Fay is to whom I belong. I see no questions, for I am surely of Elvin culture. Yes, my wings are here, but they are indeed a curse, and I have lost many because of them.”

His voice was slow and calm, he sounded weary but collected. He began to tremble slightly, unwillingly going into a fit of hypothermia. The dampness of the cave soaked him through and through, and blood pooled around him and on the rock beneath him. The crimson droplets that graced his flawless structure matched the eyes of the still woman whom he looked upon, his soft eyes gently focusing on blood.