Times Long Since Past [Lise]

[Mali]

Taured didn’t like what Varden had planned for them. Even though they had done it before and it had gone smoothly then, he was still adverse to the idea of approaching wild dragons for eggs. It didn’t sit right with him, the thought of trying to convince a wild dragon to donate at least one egg to their cause. The dragons were usually hostile and dangerous to be around. The fact that they just wanted to hatch their eggs in peace and quiet didn’t help when Varden came bounding in all happy, hunky-dory and trying to start up a casual conversation.

Most of the time, they ended up leaving empty handed. One time, they had even been chased away by one of the mates of the dam. That had not left Taured in high spirits for speaking with the next dragon they came across. But he did it because of Varden and the way it made him feel. It gave him a sense of pride being able to find the dragons in the first place. They were secluded and yet they had found the dragons’ migration locations. It also made him feel connected to his parents. His mother had donated him to the cause and he couldn’t have been happier. And he felt it was only right to get more eggs so that they could hatch and find their rider the way that he had.

Taured and Varden were eating outside of a small building, Varden was sitting laying down in the main square with Taured perched atop one of Varden’s folded legs. Varden had a small roasted pig in front of him while Taured played with his piece of meat. He didn’t believe that eating meat was wrong, he liked to think that all life was sacred, but there was no way that when they were travelling, he would be able to be picky with his food. It was something he was used to by now.

It was then that a loud banging and crashing noise came from a building not far off and caused the two to look up in that general direction. The first thing they saw was the crash as someone was thrown through a window. Taured immediately stood up, his dish still in his hand as he watched the situation unfold. It appeared to be a woman who came crashing through the glass. What had happened that someone would ever consider throwing a woman through a window?

Taured placed his bowl down on Varden’s leg before his feet started to move without thinking. He was the protective type. He thought that there should be peace and harmony everywhere. Why did people need to fight? If everyone was civil and treated others the way they wanted to be treated, then there wouldn’t be as many problems in the world. It also didn’t help that Taured and Varden saw everyone as equals, including humans, urgals, dwarves, etc.

A man jumped through the window, his feet landing a few steps away from the woman who still lay on the ground with shattered glass sticking in her arm which seemed to have taken most of the impact. He was about to start yelling something when Taured tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me sir. Might I enquire what it is that has occurred between yourself and the lady?” Taured was trying to be polite. It wouldn’t help if he were as rude as this man seemed to be. He stank of booze and Taured could easily figure out why the fight had been started.

“She was insulting my pride! I dun know anything about what nonsense she spoke, but you don’t approach a stranger and start insulting them!” Taured gave the man a curious eyebrow raise. She was insulting him? Maybe in his drunken state, he mistook her conversation as insulting.

“She even tried to correct me!” Maybe she had interrupted his drunken conversation with a valid point of interest. When men like this started drinking, conversation usually became slurred and wrong. Maybe she was in fact correcting him and he took it as insulting.

As the woman made to stand, the man then moved to continue the fight. Taured moved to block the man’s path before crossing his arms over his chest, glaring down at the man. He was a magical prodigy even before becoming a dragon rider, it should be easy to deal with this man.

[Lisenet]

Fàsail Tate
~ Fifteen years previous to present time
Tasailon

She had not intended to start a fight. All she had wanted was to sit down for supper and have a nice, warm meal before she left Du Weldenvarden for the next several years. But the man at the bar had been taking serious liberties with the Urgralgran culture and was making up what he didn’t know just to impress the two women who were listening to him. Finally, after listening for several minutes about how Urgals harvested elven blood for use in their initiation ceremonies—among other gruesome tall tales—she drained the last of her stew and brought the bowl up to the counter and scowled at the man. His eyes were pink-rimmed and over-bright. He was drunk. But that didn’t mean she could tell the two sober women listening to him how incorrect he was.

”Urgals do not harvest blood, or any other body parts,” she assured them. ”I promise if you do any reading on the subject it will prove otherwise.”

The man squinted up at her. ”And how would a book know?”

She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth brought on by his breath, and returned, ”How would you? What part of you did they chop off to bless their sons and daughters with?” Her mouth twisted. ”If you can even count it a blessing.”

The man stumbled off his stool, planted two sloppy hands on her shoulders and shoved her back more quickly than she would have expected. She caught herself with a bruise to the hip where it slammed the bar. Her expression soured, and she sighed.

”Because some upstart like you who can’t even dress yourself properly is going to amount to anything but parts and pieces yourself?” he growled with a sneer.

Tasailon looked down at her clothes with a frown, hardly offended. People had been insulting her for her odd clothes for years. She wore a thick linen vest over a loose-sleeved white blouse. Usually it was the fitted—but modest—breeches she wore under her front-parted and split-backed skirt that accrued side-eyed comments. The splits and breeches allowed for easy riding, and the skirt could be buttoned to hide her legs, so she accomplished two ends at once. ”But I like my getup,” she replied, more to irritate him than anything else.

”You look like a whore.”

Tasailon’s eyes sharpened. ”Coming from a man who wouldn’t know what to do with one, I find myself unmoved.”

That was when he shoved his thick hands under the shoulders of her vest and walked her backward, dragging her when she wouldn’t walk with him. Later she would realize that was what he’d wanted. With her trailing behind him, it gave him the room to gather momentum as he heaved her through the thin glass window where patrons could sit to admire the courtyard as they ate. The metal struts holding the square panes together bent softly as her spine slammed through them, and she had just enough time to regret that she’d gone up to the second floor to eat instead of the first. She twisted as she fell so she wouldn’t land directly on her back, and when she struck the ground the glass pattered down around her like pieces of broken sky.

Her arm wasn’t broken, but there was glass sticking out of it and prickling out of her right shoulder, and Tasailon curled into an aching seated position as soon as she could to make sure she wouldn’t shove any of it deeper. Heat prickled in her eyes from the pain of having the fragments slicing through her muscles when she accidentally moved them.

The man who had thrown her leaped through the hole in the glass that her body had cleared, and landed far too lightly on his feet for a drunk. He stalked over to her as though moving through thick soup and seemed pleased to stand over her for just a moment as she tried to decide if the aches down the right side of her body were only bruises or if she was bleeding in places she couldn’t see. Had she been human she would have broken at least the arm and dislocated the shoulder, as well as torn up that entire side of her flesh. Glad to be elven, she drew her right arm close into her body, where she was less likely to accidentally move it, and drew her furious gaze up just in time to see a handsome blond fellow stride purposefully up to the aggressor and pat his shoulder.

”Excuse me, sir….” Tasailon’s face curled into silent laughter at his manners. Most men preferred the brutish ways of butting into a lady’s affairs without hesitation, and if this one had done that she would have seen him as little better than the man who had thrown her. Past the legs of the two men she could see, a proudly sized dragon lay comfortably near the edge of the courtyard. A Rider. She had wanted to meet one of those for quite some time.

”She was insulting my pride!”

She raised a hand and one finger. ”I did do that,” she admitted, awkwardly shifting toward her feet but not trying too hard yet. ”But you must admit that you were being a fool.” Clearly he was about to do no such thing. ”And I did correct you.” The feeling of the solid glass sliding through her muscles was horrible, and she winced, reaching around with her left hand to pull the first few glass shards out. Soon she realized perhaps that had been a poor decision—the glass had been keeping the blood in. She murmured a spell under her breath to slow the bleeding but wasn’t certain how to stop it entirely without stopping the blood that was still in her arteries. She hadn’t studied healing magic in decades and it came reluctantly to mind. But the Rider could probably help her later.

Bringing her feet underneath her was uncomfortable—there were cuts down her right side, though not as deep as those cupping her right shoulder. The drunk swung his head toward her and she held up her unmarked hand as if it alone would hold him off. But the Rider stepped between them and the worried knot in her ribcage loosened. The drunk seemed to think the Rider was only making his game better, however, and swung a hard fist for his pretty face.

Tasailon knew the Rider would be fast enough to avoid the fist on his own, so she paid more attention to the drunk than him, and threw herself good shoulder first into his stomach. Although having never approved of careless conflict, she confessed that she did take a faint, irritated sort of satisfaction in pushing back when the other side pushed first, especially when it was against one of her own race, against whom she held an even fight. His hands slapped down on her back in surprise as she bowled him over, and cursed as her forehead slammed into the bottom of his ribcage when they hit the ground.

[Mali]

Taured had no idea whether his conclusions had been correct until the woman started to speak. So everything that he accused her of doing, she had in fact done it. Well, in the sense of right and wrong, she deserved to have a fight occur. Of course, that didn’t mean that Taured believed she should have been thrown out a two storey window, but rather that they have a verbal disagreement and discuss or fight it out that way.

Violence was never the answer and he felt his efforts at trying to get that point across failing. He knew that even though he’d been spreading the word of peace for the riders’ council for quite some time already, that he wasn’t able to reach everyone, especially those he’d never met yet.

He turned to look at the woman for a moment and shook his head as she removed the glass from her wounds. She should have known better. After removing glass, you have to not only stop the now excessive bleeding, but disinfect the wound. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Turning back around to face the man, he decided to throw a punch toward him and Taured couldn’t help but shake his head. He was a peacekeeper, an information hound, among other things for the riders’ council. He didn’t believe in violence. Although, it was highly unlikely that this man would know any of that about Taured so he dodged the man’s punch, spinning out of the way as the man stumbled forward slightly, his momentum carrying him further without impact to slow him down.

About to say something, he noticed the woman was now standing. That’s good, she wasn’t too injured that she wasn’t able to stand. Perfect, now to resolve this peacefully and be on their merry—

He was surprised and it showed on his face as the woman started to charge toward the drunken man, her uninjured shoulder taking the impact to his stomach. Bringing a hand up to his face, Taured shook his head and felt Varden touch his mind.

“Maybe it would be best to leave them be Taur,” Varden stated simply. Thinking about it, maybe his dragon was right. But there was no way that Taured could just walk away without trying to solve the scenario.

As the two fell to the ground, Taured moved his hand away from his face and looked down at them. They were ungracefully thrown together in a heap against the ground. The woman was resting with her face just below his ribcage as he flailed around like a turtle on its back.

Extending his hands down and out, he gently slid them underneath the woman’s shoulders and pulled her to her feet. It was then that his Persian green dragon had moved over to the commotion. Varden moved over and beside the woman, pushing lightly against her side, giving her something to support herself with.

Taured then helped the man up. He was taken aback when he moved toward the woman again. Anger now flashed across his face. Was this man stupid? It was over now. He’d thrown her out a window and she’d shoved him to the ground. They were even now.

“I suggest you leave matters alone now. You’ve both said and done what you wanted to.” Taured knew that this man might not easily move on seeing as he was drunk so he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a coin, handing it to the man. Taured didn’t believe in bribery or drinking for that matter, but it would send the man off so he could deal with the woman’s wounds.

“Here, go have a drink,” and he turned on his heel, not waiting for the man to head back into the building before giving his attention to the woman.

“I would think that there would be a sense of right here.” he wasn’t reprimanding her in any way and there was a playful smirk on his features as he stared at the elven woman.

“I’m Taured Doenning. This here is Varden. May I?” he motioned to her shoulder and arm while taking it lightly into his hands. This might take a while to clean, but they had time and it wasn’t anywhere close to getting dark yet.

[Lisenet]

Tasailon wasn’t terribly surprised when the Rider continued to involve himself, not that she minded at all. At least he was careful as he lifted her abruptly tired self off the drunk who flopped about like a fish even though she was no longer attacking him. Whatever she’d done to try to slow the bleeding in her arm, she suspected, had not worked quite as she had intended, so she released the pinch of effort she was using to maintain the spell and let her blood move however it wanted to. Her body probably knew better than she did anyway, even if it didn’t always react the way she wanted it to.

As soon as she was upright—mostly—the Rider’s vibrant green dragon sidled over to her and gave her something other than air to lean on. ”Why thank you,” she gasped, not appreciating the amount of warmth bubbling over the cuts in her right arm. She hadn’t removed all of the glass, but apparently only a few pieces was enough. And she had never been fond of blood; she didn’t see it enough to grow accustomed to finding it in places she didn’t want it to be, such as in her sleeves or on the lovely soft green grass that was suddenly closer than it had been when she’d been on her feet. ”My apologies,” she added as the Rider convinced the drunk to return to his fun in the bar, concerned she might be bleeding on the handsome dragon. Green and red didn’t go well together.

The Rider turned toward her after he was certain the drunk wasn’t about to come back. His expression was amused. ”I would think that there would be a sense of right here.”

Tasailon grinned. ”I’m sure I don’t understand. I apologize for interrupting your meal, but I’ve never been one to suffer fools lightly. He was trying to convince these two women that urgals did the most awful things with body parts. Perhaps I should have taken up my quarrel with them—they were the ones foolish enough to look like they believed him.” Blood and fighting were not among the many things that Tasailon enjoyed. But she did admit to finding fun in a good tussle every once and a while. Who didn’t enjoy a challenge, some competition of some sort? ”I’m Tasailon,” she said then, because it seemed the appropriate time. She craned her neck to look in the direction of the dragon’s face. ”Who are you?”

”I’m Taured Doenning,” the Rider filled in, introducing his dragon as well. He gestured toward her arm, which sparkled out of the corner of her eye because of what was embedded in it. His fingers were careful as they slid underneath to the undamaged skin, the better to see what he could. ”May I?”

Tasailon sighed. ”Oh, help yourself, I’ve entirely forgotten most of the skills I don’t regularly use. I can fix the sleeve later easy enough.” Now that she was sitting, and calm, and quiet, the cuts and gashes were starting to ache in a way they hadn’t before, each one like bits of ice that had grown into her flesh. ”So what are you up to all the way back here?” She leaned her head back against Varden’s verdant side even though his scales caught in her hair, still tired, though she was relieved to have someone about who seemed to know what he was doing. Admittedly, she would have fumbled.

[Mali]

Varden smiled down to the elven woman as she leaned against him. He didn’t mind the fact that she was bleeding all that much. She was leaning against him mostly with the uninjured side of her injured arm so she wasn’t bleeding on him that much, not that that bothered him either. He was just glad that there was something he could do to help right now. Since Taured decided to continue to intervene in this situation, Varden should be able to help in some small way.

Taured was pleased when the drunk returned to the building but wondered if the money he’d given the man would be paying for drinks, or the window he’d broken. Either way, it wasn’t his concern at all. When the woman grinned back to him, he couldn’t help but smile. Good, she hadn’t taken what he said seriously. Taured wasn’t the best at getting his feelings across, mainly when it was playful or trying to be funny. Varden often told his elven rider that he had no sense of humour and Taured beamed up at Varden who shook his head. “I wouldn’t call that a joke Taured,” Varden spoke mentally to his rider.

Tasailon, that was a nice name. It sounded pretty and rolled off the tongue... kind of.

He smiled kindly to her as she apologised for interrupting their meal and then explained why it had happened. Shaking his head, he felt it right to reassure her that she hadn’t interrupted anything. “Not at all, it’s what we’re here for,” they were known as the peacekeepers of the rider’s council. They were also the information seekers for the council, but that didn’t explain why they had placed themselves in the situation.

When she allowed him to look at her injured and bleeding arm, Taured made sure to be extra careful. He would have to pull out the pieces of glass first before he would be able to stop the bleeding and treat for possible infection.

Taured was still inspecting the wound when Tasailon asked what they were doing out here. Taured sighed and Varden decided to answer instead.

“We’re on the noblest of quests. As soon as possible, we will be heading into the desert and mountains searching for wild dragon mating patterns. We hope to locate a few and try to encourage some donations to the riders.” Varden raised his head up proud while Taured tried to stay focused on his task. He could always use the string method to remove the glass...

“Yes, sadly, we are going to be heading out soon to search for wild dragons. All Varden’s idea, don’t worry, I’m not that foolhardy.” he smiled to Tasailon. He wouldn’t want her getting the impression that he was a thrill seeker.

“Using the strength of the finest string, connect the disjoined glass, allow me to pull through the skin,”Taured spoke in the ancient language. If everything worked properly, and it would, the glass that was stuck in her arm would now be connected with the strongest string—magical of course—and would pull through the skin as if it were a magical portal. She would feel the string joining the glass, but she shouldn’t feel it pulling out of her skin. The only thing she would feel as he pulled the stringed glass out would be more blood flow.

He gently started to pull on the end of the string and the glass slipped through her skin easily with the glass spaced out on the string depending on how close together they were in her arm. Placing his hand over the bleeding locations on her arm, he whispered another spell. “I use the force of gravity, compress the blood to clot and stop running out of the system.” and it worked. She would feel a gentle pressure stopping the blood from leaving her arm and it clotted quickly under his touch. Now all he needed to do was sterilize the wound and then bandage it up just in case it were to unclot for whatever reason.

As he set about finding a bandage in Varden’s saddle, he glanced over at Tasailon. “So, what brings you out here?” only fair to ask the question in return.

[Lisenet]

”It’s what we’re here for.”

”I suppose that is true,” she acknowledged. ”Though I’m sure you would prefer citizens to not throw one another through windows just to give you a purpose.” She sighed. ”That oaf. Perhaps I should go back and apologize. I was still right, but that didn’t mean I had to be a snot about it.” She took care to keep her eyes closed. Blood was all well and good, but only when it stayed where it belonged. Hers was not cooperating so she thought it best to ignore it until it did.

It was Varden who answered her question of journeys, and she smiled at the steadfast pride in his voice when he did so. ”How many of them do give you eggs instead of chasing you off?” she wanted to know. It sounded like a rather….dangerous quest. Taured’s assurance that it wasn’t his idea only solidified her opinion that the two of them were not exactly going on a peaceful vacation from the treacherous, risk-filled days of paperwork and learning they would be facing in Ilirea. She chuckled at the dryness in his tone.

There was no pain when he convinced the glass shards to abandon their sanctuary in her skin, and instead of noticing the additional warmth over said skin she decided instead to focus on the sound of the glass piling itself neatly in the grass. She wondered if it was stacking itself or simply piling like unruly children but didn’t care enough to open her eyes and check. It felt as though additional hands were closing about her upper arm when he murmured again the spells she had long since forgotten.

”So what brings you out here?” he asked as he stood and rummaged in one of his saddle bags.

Tasailon shifted until she was more comfortable against the hard ground—Varden’s side wasn’t nearly as hard as she would have expected it to be with his scales—and replied, ”I have a mission of insanity of my own. I’m going to look for the dwarves. We have so few writings about them, and I’m curious. I think if I spend enough time in their mountains looking for them, eventually they’ll realize I’m not there just to pick on them and let me in. I have a great interest in the other races and other peoples. I’d like to visit the humans and the Urgals too, if I can find them and convince them not to shoot me on sight. That may be tricky.”

Tasailon eased one eye half-open to peek down at her arm. The sleeve was mangled and stained, but she could set it to rights later. For now she just reached up with her left hand and gripped it firmly below the seam. ”Let go,” she murmured, and the stitches loosened, the knots unraveling. With a firm yank she tore the threads loose and neatly parted the sleeve from the body of her shirt, folded it up and stuffed it into one of her pockets. It was doing no good where it was anyway, and would only get it Taured’s way, most likely. And she would rather walk around with only one sleeve rather than have one dangling and dripping off her shoulder like a dead cat. Lifting a piece of glass he’d removed from her shoulder, she twirled it through her fingers and asked, ”I don’t suppose you know a way to let me keep at least one scar? They’re excellent for telling stories.”