[ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

[blackscales]

WHO: Wrathion & Visitors
WHEN: April: Beastmaster's Arrival & Aftermath
WHERE: Ke-Waihu & then... the forests around Ke-Waihu. Cosy caves.
WHAT: Wrathion clocks the Beastmaster arriving and immediately Nopes Out. Plot here!
WARNINGS: Awkward cuddling huddled by a blanket ft UST in a cave.




As soon as the Beastmaster draws near to Ke-Waihu, Wrathion slinks from the village and takes flight through the forest. He can be seen, occasionally, flying over the tree-tops in the area being pursued by the Beastmaster's creatures. Those who know him well, or those good at following tracks, can find him hiding out in a cave avoiding them while he waits out the Beastmaster's powers fading.

Comments

[reparo]

The reflexes, too! Why is she finding them familiar? (Like a cat.) Maybe she's projecting - regardless, she can't quite take her eyes off him.

"I didn't exactly find them, I didn't just stumble upon them, I went looking." She did find them, though, yes. "As much as I'd like to find out the essence of what makes them tick, right now I need them to work more than I need to know how to make more myself. Because I don't think I would be able to."

She points a finger at him, holding the two stones with one hand. "No messing up my wards out of scientific curiosity."

[blackscales]

Ah.

Well, she does have a good point. He leans back a little, eyeing her but attention split down to the stones as well.

"The signature on them feels residual," he comments. Is he allowed to comment on that? Is commentary helpful? He isn't doing anything! Just commenting!

[reparo]

"Mm, presumably they were blessed or consecrated or...something," she mutters, waving off the line of thought so she can place them, one on each side of the cave opening. "I hope it doesn't take following the religion for them to work."

She turns to look at Wrathion again, and tilts her head. "How has this been working for you? Is it safe? I can try to put up wards, so that at the very least the cave entrance is not noticeable to anyone who isn't specifically looking for it or aware it's there." Wards similar to the ones she placed around their tent while hunting for Horcruxes, wards she is so very familiar with at this point.

[blackscales]

Ah, she's taking them away. His eyes follow her, and he leans just a little as if desiring to be closer to them but making sure his body stays put.

He's been told not to meddle, but the urge is truly overpowering.

"Wards would be useful," he allows, "although I expect I will be forced to move eventually."

There's only so long this cave will last before it is discovered, and if the ward only prevents people who don't know from finding it then that won't help once that happens.

[reparo]

"Nothing will be forever," she murmurs, with a frown. "We'll all be forced to move eventually, I'm sure. I would rather know you're able to catch at least a few nights of good sleep."

Which brings her to the other segue, and she fishes out one bottle of Sleeping Draught. Elletheia made. "Do you remember the flowers we picked together?"

[blackscales]

The flower? His attention focuses back onto her, head tilting thoughtfully as he assesses the question.

"Widow's Yearning, found in small fields around Ellethia. The scent is said to have a sedative effect."

Yes, he remembers. Important details like that may be relevant again some day, so why would he forget?

[reparo]

She shows him the bottle, a vial really, containing a purple-ish kind of potion. "Well, behold the sedative effect." She explains, because Wrathion will care: "I brewed two potions with it, I think one should be enough to knock out a dragon."

A pointed look here. "You know, to keep all possible plans in mind."

[blackscales]

Oh, interesting. He lowers his head a little, examining the vial in her hand.

"Still scent based, I presume??"

How does she intend to apply this? Break the vial, and the scent will sedate him? He cannot imagine, in an emergency, someone forcing it into his mouth. His teeth are large and extremely sharp, he could do someone... extensive damage.

[reparo]

"Nnnno, I'm afraid it's for drinking," she admits, a bit sheepishly. "I thought I was making it for someone who was having a lot of trouble sleeping, when I was making it, to be honest. Couldn't have foretold we'd need to spritz someone with it."

She looks down at the vial too, and sighs. No good, is it? "It was a silly idea..." She can't have the fix for every problem. Some of the problems in this world are so unknown to her, she feels like a bloody child when confronted with them. It feels foolish in hindsight to think that she could've somehow fixed this whole mess on her own.

Reflexively, her fingers curl around the vial, and she hesitates mid-motion, having the mind to just put it away.

Except... "Though, Wrathion, this could be useful to you outside of the hypothetical scenario in which you fall under the Beastmaster's control - which yes, we very much do not want - because you need to get some rest too. Are you?" She gives him a very careful look. (Dragon!)

"You're loafing quite uncomfortably."

[blackscales]

He does indeed need to get some rest, but there's something else important that needs to be addressed first:

"Loafing uncomfortably?"

What does that even mean?

[reparo]

Why did she say that? Now she has to explain her train of thought to him, and this is going to be embarrassing. Right, come on Hermione - just stand by it.

"Like a cat." She brings both arms up against her chest, wrists tucked down, in a poor immitation of a cat's front paws when loafing. "You know, when they sit like a bread loaf. Tucking their paws under them and just taking a nap. Except you look like the cave's too small for you, or like you're itching to..."

Don't keep talking, Hermione. Don't come on at all.

"Wriggle."

[blackscales]

Ah.

... Like a loaf of bread? Is that what it looks like to her?

Well.

"I was attacked by the Beastmaster's flying creatures on the way here. I am uncomfortable."

Does that answer the question?

[reparo]

That certainly takes her mind away from comparing a dragon to a big loafing cat, and she takes a step into the cave with a frown of concern already.

"Were you injured? Show me." She has brewed some minor healing potions so far, and a variation on Essence of Murtlap to close open wounds like scars and burns. Considering that she never goes anywhere without her bag, is it any surprise she's got them here?

She's already striding closer and digging through her bag at the same time, while waiting for his ennumeration of injuries. Wrathion's a big nerd empyrical creature, he'll not fuss and hide it. Surely.

[blackscales]

Wrathion lets out a low grumble of discontent, yet reluctantly begins to shuffle himself anyway. He spreads his wings as much as he can in the limited space, displaying some rips to the membrane.

"They seek to slow me down."

Not to kill him, so nothing they do is life threatening. Simply ways to make Wrathion easier to catch and control.

[reparo]

The knot in her stomach happens swiftly. To slow him down, so they can hunt him down. It's almost a pity that she resolved her ancestral curse so well - she could do with a bit more wrath right now.

Then again, she can be angry all on her own, too.

"The wankers," she mutters under her breath, still repressing the urge to curse them harder than that. Maybe she could - maybe she'll hex them. They'd deserve it.

She shakes her head and brings out a pot of Essence of Murtlap instead, which is not quite that in this place but will do. "I need to rub this onto the wound but it will help them close up and not leave scars - at least it shouldn't. I should tell you, I've never tried it on a dragon before."

[blackscales]

Wrathion makes another grumbly sound of discontent, because rubbing things on the membrane sounds uncomfortable, but flattens himself down more against the ground all the same. He stretches out one wing a little more than the other, trying to help her gain access.

"Any assistance is worthwhile, and should it not work as you hope Anduin may be able to assist me later. I will not bear the injuries longer than necessary."

If she's afraid he's too proud to ask anyone for help, he can at least dissuade her of that. He's just very specific about who he trusts enough to allow this.

[reparo]

She does carefully dab the salve against the membrane of his wing that has suffered damage, trying to focus, but then Wrathion brings up Anduin and, well Hermione does know a few things.

A little smirk, as she continues to dab, and her voice is light: "Oh? And will you want us to duel to the death over rights to heal you?"

[blackscales]

Ah, they've been talking then. Wrathion swings his head around to study her as she works, affecting a haughty air of indignation at her tease.

"It would be your privilege to do so."

He's just saying.

[reparo]

She snorts, the sarcasm dripping. As far as Hermione knows, Wrathion is aware of how silly this is and he's just playing along.

"If I dueled to the death for your claw in marriage, it would be your privilege."

She's a catch. Possibly. (There is exactly one Bulgarian wizard out there who'd agree. And one infuriatingly slow to act Weasley.)

[blackscales]

"Oh? Do you think so? Am I to be blessed enough to see Hermione Granger do battle with a priest so I might be graced with her hand?"

He nudges her with his snout a little, only enough pressure to make her perhaps stumble a half step, then adds after a moments thought:

"Of course, a duel is only necessary if you are bound to the concept of monogamy. That is not usual for dragons, in truth."

[reparo]

She does stumble a little, and then chokes on an incredulous little laugh. "What, gold's not enough of a hoarde for you, you'll take spouses too?"

She swats his wing away, like one would affectionately swat away a persistent cat. (Again, practice.)

"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that I don't believe in barbaric practices like objectifying someone like they're property I must fight to own."

She puts the cap on the salve tub with a sniff, indignant. "Besides." This will be her crowning moment. "I couldn't possibly compete. Anduin thinks the world of you. I just think you're moderately pretty."

Quick question: can dragons tell when people are lying? Let's find out!

[blackscales]

He snorts at that, a faint curl of smoke escaping.

"Moderately pretty?"

Please, he did choose this visage himself. Wrathion knows he is not moderately pretty.

"Just as you are moderately intelligent?"

[reparo]

She ruffles a little on principle, ready to protest that she's intelligent enough, but then it hits her. That might be one of those backhanded compliments, where he admits he thinks she's very smart.

(Validate her.)

"Are you fishing for compliments?"

[blackscales]

"I do not need to, you give them openly."

He may not be a genius at social cues, but he's vain enough to know know his own appearance is appealing to people.

"However if you desire to give more I will not dissuade you."

It's nice to feel you have value even when you're trapped in a cave feeling useless.

[reparo]

She purses her lips together, aware that she's somehow not won this round of - what was it? Teasing? Something? Regardless, now she has confirmation that he thinks she's more than moderately intellingent, which she's very pleased by.

Then again, she is easily pleased.

"I'm not dueling Anduin," she reminds him, pointedly, "Because it just so happens that I like him, and he's my friend." Has she confirmed that this is true? No. But he knows some of her secrets, she knows one of his, so surely they're friends now. Yes.

She clears her throat and steps aside to brush non-existent dirt from her travelling cloak. "Besides, aren't you two...you know. In feelings for each other?"