Adonne keeps running her mouth, and as I watch, I see smoke furl from the nostrils of the small beast wrapped about Abraham’s horn, death glinting in the depths of the eyes of the gold. Any one with any sense would see this situation going sour swiftly, and yet she just keeps talking, her accented vocals, that had been appealing on her first arrival, now grate against my ears. Even when she turns towards me and answers my small words, I find myself frowning all the more deeply at how little she understands about her behavior.

"If you live, I’ll take you on a walk," I answer, a glimmer exploding in my vision at the dark thoughts which swell in my mind.

She might live. She certainly won’t be in a walking mood.

Hey, and if she is – then I’ve got myself a true warrior girlfriend! Single handedly defeated two dragons and their master, a hybrid child at his heels…

Even as I playfully jest with myself, the situation outwardly gets ugly, oddly in tune with my strange imaginings. Abraham says something dark (I forget, because what happens next well), then the dragons explode in a flurry of shining, scaled motion. My stomach does a flip, my back crawls with instinctual and somewhat taught loathing of dragon kind, and while I know they aren’t attacking me, I still warily watch their assault upon the lavender damsel.

My lips twitch into a smile only momentarily as the little one turns to defend herself, spitting words like a baby viper with such vehemence that I spare her a single glance. No wonder momma said the winged ones were all crazy in the head, lost to a bird’s simple, bestial logic – if Aithniel and this little bitch’s temper are any justification, maybe they really are. I can’t help but wonder when she’ll jump into the fight as I take a step away to watch it (somehow, miraculously) continue to spiral downwards.

Be a Man! she demands, insulting the bonded wyverns as well in a second breath.

I start to laugh. Keep digging, sister, dragons love being called lizards and their keepers even further enjoy their dangle downs being challenged. I did learn a thing or two from the mistakes of my parents and their insidious kin. I know better than to pick a fight in any situation in which I am so outnumbered by flying, elemental spitting devils.

Stop! Wait!

The familiar voice pulls my eyes up towards the sound of hooves thundering in.

What the fuck?

Glacia?

"Oh, shut up Glacia!" I nearly groan in protest as she approaches, my tail flicking up at my haunches in distant annoyance that she’s come to ruin all the fun. Of course, I wasn’t going to let the lavender lady here get herself murdered (I do have a heart, you know), but justice was due to Abraham for the haughty wench’s words. Whether it was a goad for a violent reaction, or not, sometimes… we get what we ask for.

My frown is heavy and my ears lay back as she stops alongside me, her yearling’s body tall, lean, and awkward.

Gods, I’m glad I grew out of that stage, and that no one here was forced to look at me while it happened.

"Just watch pretty… Adonne, was it? Learn to shut up," I complain in favor of the battle, "we’ll intervene if we have to."