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Posted on May 13, 2013 at 08:25:32 PM by Gaiane & Pallas
It was nice to know that she was not the only one who was silly enough to get caught outside in a flash thunderstorm. Though, it came so quickly that her mother might have been the only one who knew the storm would come. As scary as her mother was, the accuracy did have its uses. Still, Gaiane had had some study of magical abilities though she did not possess any. At least, not to her knowledge she didn’t. This storm was so sudden and with so little warning, the girl would not have been shocked to learn that it was caused by a weather manipulator. Of course, there was no way to know that for sure.
She pondered the possibility of magic’s role in her spontaneous and involuntary showering until the lord before her asked about sending a message. Why would that be needed? Her mother didn’t worry about things so trifling as Gaiane’s whereabouts. A small storm would not change that. It would need to be something much larger, like the rock dragon come again, or Lorraine’s frozen wrath renewed against the world. She smiled sweetly and shook her head. “It would be mean to send a runner with a message in the storm, and besides, Mother knows where I am anyway.”
The roots of her hair were beginning to dry on their own, becoming a bit hay-like in appearance. Or one should say mucked hay. Gaiane’s hair was not fair enough to resemble clean hay. Her dragon’s feathers were clumping together, which Gaiane could only see from the up close encounter she had briefly before falling against the wall. The stupid dragon was taking her conversation away from her, but then the offer of magical help came. Though she’d watched her mother work, in all honesty, scrying was about as lame to watch as paint drying or grass growing or time passing. Actually, it was exactly like watching time passing.
Gaiane’s eyes widened in wonder as his hand began to glow blue. It felt like the wind was sucking away all of the moisture from her, and the girl pressed her lips and eyes closed, just as a precaution. As it was, her lips chapped ever so slightly, and her hair became a tangled mess in need of a good combing. But that was nothing compared to Pallas. The dragon looked like something a cat had coughed up and then blown dry. The feather fluffed like a chick and she was not even a little diplomatic in the displeasure on her face. They had better have a fire waiting if they wanted a pleasant dragon for company.
“Wow that was amazing! It must have taken a long time to learn to do that, let alone master it! Thank you.” She smiled and gave him a small curtsey of gratitude before taking his arm like the ladies of court seem to do, and followed him to the chamber. She watched him with the logs and fierce command of yet another element. A fire was now blazing in the large hearth and once again, Pallas held no regard for the relative space between her body and anyone else’s as she hurried to the warm flames and lied down on a decorative carpet. Gaiane was not the quickest of wits, and in her preoccupation with the possibly magical storm and the magic of this lord or prince or whatever he was, she did not immediately notice that he had said dragon and not simply familiar.
“Wait… you have a dragon? Like a dragon dragon like Pallas? But why doesn’t he talk? Don’t all dragon’s talk? She doesn’t-”
“Shut up, child.”
“Exactly.”
The girl was unused to the publicity of life in a castle. The pantheon had few visitors beyond the courtyards and meeting chambers, and that lack of experience showed as she began to unlace her dress nearly as soon as another was in Mordred’s hands. Sheepishly and a bit bashfully, she smiled and took the dress from him and moved to the indicated room, like a dog who’d been chastised with a newspaper for chewing on a new leather shoe.
As she changed, or finished changing rather, Pallas kept a keen eye on the boy. As innocent as her fairy was, Pallas was a dragon. She was proud and boastful, but she was also slow to trust, and this boy, for all his magic tricks was not yet trustworthy. It was not too long before Gaiane reappeared in the purple silk gown feeling like a princess. “Thank your sister for me. It’s such a pretty dress.” The fabric covered her muddiest areas but was not long enough to cover her feet, and in truth looked rather odd with muddied boots anyway.
Daintily, wanting to preserve the regality of the gown, the girl moved back to the furniture and took a seat close to her knight. The crackling fire was loud enough that being close was needed to be heard without having to shout to the entire castle.
“So, tell me more about your dragon… and your name. What’s your name?”
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