yael

In all the post-adrenaline, post-trauma, relief and exhaustion, Yael never once stopped to think that someone might find it surprising to hear a dragon speak. Did they not have companions with the ability to engage in telepathic speech? Other shifters? Or were mythical, non-speaking dragons such a common occurrence that finding one who speaks is a novelty? Surprise is evident in his tone and she can see where the great reveal of her identity has him more than a little startled. Surprise! she ought to say, and change back to her original form, but oh, that sounds so exhausting at the moment. The tiniest, softest chuckle trickles out as Sacre stands there, flabbergasted – because yes, it might be terribly difficult to imagine the petite, sweet-tempered Pegasus as a fire-breathing, death-wielding dragon. Even if she is small, by the great beast’s standards.

What happened? Well that is a mighty fine question, isn’t it? Yael sighs, both in weariness and exasperation at the whole scenario. She should really try to find out who that madwoman is and teach her a lesson. Yael’s version of a lesson – the last time she tried to teach someone one, it ended up with her dragon jaws clamped tight around a fluttering moth, threatening to swallow the transfigured troublemaker in a single gulp. It seemed an apt lesson to her at the time… but who knows what is going on now, back in B’kanna. Her hesitancy to bring it up (is it a personal problem, or would it turn into a herd problem?) combined with Sacre’s generosity allow the moment to pass, and she nods her assent to his decision. He is the doctor, after all.

She makes an effort to hold very still, which isn’t terribly difficult when the winds come. The healing itself is odd  but not uncomfortable, winds wrap themselves around her in a breezy, pillow-like embrace, magic swooping into her wound and doing what it does best. Yael tries to relax to make things easier for Sacre and his abilities, remembering all too well how healing can be surprisingly taxing work. In the end, all that’s left is a horn-sized circle on her neck, darker than the rest of her scales – something that could be easily mistaken as a bit of dirt instead of a scar.

“I feel worldsssss better. T’ank you Sssssacre.” Still, she makes no indication that she plans on leaving that spot any time soon. Crystal-blue eyes whirr as his companions approach, and she flashes the two little foxes a bit of a wink. Her gaze then slides up to Sacre’s face, where she says just that. “You are very kind.  To anssssswer your previoussss kesssstyon, I vasssss attacked by a uneecorn een ze Labyrinth.  Ssssseem to xaf acquired a ssssssstalker een ze ssssssshort time I’ve been xere. Ssssshe found and  cornered me and vell… xere I am and sssssshe sssssstil valks free”. Her shoulders roll in a slight shrug, not wanting to make too much of a deal about it. The fact is that she could now easily defeat the white witch now – not only that, but protect others from her madness as well.