Wind Child

[Mystic Dragon]

((Bwah! I so lied! :3 Though I still won't be able to respond for a while after this.))

* * *

Two years passed this way, with Rugan and Roah growing closer by the day. Roah spoke of her years growing up at the Vella Crean and Rugan regailed her with stories of her father; a once great warrior of the Tanadrum. The people of the Warren accepted Roah's presence with only a few minor snags and gossip circles. Just as Shy had predicted, their memories had been altered too. Some came to believe that Rugan had timed it in order to have one last fling with her beloved husband. Others were of the mind that Rugan had too quickly accepted Cree when he first arrived at the Warren and assumed that they had known each other previously. Roah had come from that first, secret union. Whatever the rumour, Rugan was happy to accept it, for it meant that her daughter could become a part of the Warren. All too soon, that dream-like reality came to an end.

Light poured over the keen edge of a cooling blade, its tapered sides still glowing faintly with their own heat. Black, wrought iron tongs turned the length of the metal first one way then the other, causing the light to cascade up and down the unfinished piece. The hilt was missing still, laying peacefully on a side table until it was time to join the two pieces. With a two-point clatter of metal on metal, the sword was readjusted in the grip of the tongs before being thrust back into the molten heart of the forge. One more go, and then it would be finished.

Rugan turned away from her daily work, realizing it had become no more than a favoured passtime these days. With commanding the Warren's army, organizing its new police Wings, and other duties that came with her high position, she had little time to be a blacksmith. It was rare moments like this that she lived for, enjoying the peace and quiet of her overheated home. That and spending time with her children.

"Rugan." A soft voice spoke from the doorway, the familiar tones distorted by emotions. Rugan rounded sharply, onyx eyes picking out the lone figure by the door. Anyone else would be hardpressed to discern shadows from solid matter, but those who dwelled in the smithy had an advantage. Most of them could see in the dark.

"Aye?" The blacksmith called back as she stripped off her gloves and tossed them carelessly onto her working anvil. The one who had startled her was Mystic, appearing as she always did out of thin air. Yet from the first moment of her arrival, Rugan knew that something was wrong. A few long strides brought her across the barren floor, her footsteps overshadowed by the quiet continuance of Mystic's voice.

"Something's happened at the Vella Crean. They're... leaving, and I don't know for how long. They're holding one last clutch. I'm sending Roah as a candidate."

Rugan stopped abruptly, her boots beating out a stattico point that quickly faded away into silence. "Not a chance. I ain't lettin' her go back there."

"You have to."

"Why? Ye dun need a candidate there." Rugan turned her back on the mage and took one step back towards her forge. Mystic ate up the few feet between them until she hovered inches from her elbow.

"This isn't about candidacy! This is about Roah needing to see them again!" She hissed, her words waterlogged from the countless tears that had already drenched her face.

"What about me?" The light and feminine voice caused Rugan to stop again and close her eyes against an impending headache. In a matter of seconds, everything had gone wrong.

"The Vella Crean is closing, Roah." Mystic said before the burly blacksmith could get a word in edgewise. Her golden eyes sought out their darker match in the warm darkness of the cavern. "I'm sending you to their last clutch as a candidate."

"No!" Rugan snarled. "She ain't goin' back there!"

"Yes I am." Roah stood her ground, now even with the other two women. She was the spitting image of her mother in another time and place, when the ravanges of war and abandonment hadn't forced her into a life based on strength. What strength she bore was seen in her eyes and the proud jut of her chin. "You said I could go back any time I wanted to."

"Fer how long?" Rugan demanded, her voice dropping to a more normal tone. She tried to hide the fearful waver, but sadly the room held only those who could see through her as one sees through transparent paper.

"I don't know. But I have to see them again." There was no waver of uncertainty in the young warrior's voice. No hint that what stirred beneath the surface was a knot of panic large enough to choke the breath from her lungs. Her home, the only place she had known growing up, was leaving. She knew, as Mystic did, that this would be her last chance for a choice. Roah didn't wait for her mother to respond before she was striding off purposefully toward the tiny bedroom. What meager belongings she had could still fit into the satchel she had arrived with.

"If you hadn't let her go, she'd hate you forever." Mystic whispered by Rugan's shoulder. The dark woman ignored her.

"I'm coming with you!" She called to Roah's back. The girl was already halfway across the room.

"No, you're not." She replied just as assuredly.

"Then at least take Gray with ya!" Rugan snarled, feeling her ire rising by the second. Mystic was still breathing down her neck and Roah had already disappeared into the room.

"She needs this, Rugan." Mystic's cool voice rode over the silence once more. "She needs the chance to decide."

Rugan looked down, a black fire burning behind her eyes. She didn't bother replying to Mystic. In fact, Rugan said nothing for the next hour straight. Her jaws clamped tightly shut, she stalked off after Roah to help her pack. The gods themselves would not be able to stop her from accompanying the girl to the Vella Crean. Whether or not she stayed there for long would be dependant on who's will was stronger.

[Naeodin]

((Ooooh. XD I don't have my notes with me, so I don't know what's happened. But in terms of Victory dance--? What's the time zone there?))

Years had passed at the Vella Crean.

Years, and it was odd how the little scientist always remained the same. The same black hair, the same carefully pressed cheongsams.

But before, there hadn't been that tired look in the eyes, and if someone looked just right, if someone knew what they were looking for... there were those smudges of bags, and a slight...

Was he getting skinnier?

"Shy." from behind the tall scientist the small, slender woman stepped forewords. "They've told me you haven't slept..." Naeodin began.

Shy smiled, turning around. "I don't need sleep." he said lightly. "I'm not human, remember?"

Naeodin frowned, still not liking the look in his eyes. "Shy." she began again, and stopped. "Roah's coming back, you know."

Shy stilled.

It had hurt, when the girl hadn't come back to visit.

"I know." but nothing would show. Nothing. "Of course I do."

Naeodin smiled, guessing, but not voicing anything. Times were tense at the Vella Crean, and her daughter... Naeodin shook her head. People were saying things, cruel things. "Are you sure you're okay iwth the Vella Crean...closing?"

Shy turned around and clucked Naeodin's chin as if she was younger, and he older and as if they weren't so different after all. "this is for the best." he said this, and it was as if he had to convince her. "And I know the mother is trying to come as well."

Naeodin smiled. "You can't keep her away."

Shy looked around, distracted. "Where is the---"

Times were bad, at the Vella Crean.

The world was still the same, nothing had changed... really. But people had left, and worse-- something tense was in the air. As if something was going to happen soon, and no one knew how to stop it.

"I've sent out invitations." Naeodin said quietly.

And Shy nodded his head. "I'll send out my own people to meet the candidates."


Well, where did you think the candidates would be staying?

With Shy, of course.

That was the only safe place in the Vella Crean.

[Mystic Dragon]

((If you don't mind, I'm going to age the Warren 2 years too. That way the V Dance is starting around the same time that the VC closes.))

Four dragons appeared in the azure sky over the Vella Crean, brightly displaying their presence as they hadn’t done before. Myrah’Care, her silver hide gleaming beneath the mid-day light, led the small pack in a downward spiral towards the ground. Light flickered and danced along the shivering membrane of her wings. Blinding points raced along her muscular body, attracting the eye like a moth to the flame. Behind her came Rugan’s ominous trio. Ruoal’Shon, larger then even the metallic dam in point, powered her way through the air as if she could command the very clouds to bow to her might. On her back rode the quiet, black shadow of her bond, an oily streak against the sky proclaiming her long tail of her hair.

Two other dragons carried riders of their own. Myrah’, of course, bore the red flame that heralded Mystic’s presence. Porth, so often reserved for Rugan alone, carried Roah atop his withers with her packs slung over his shoulders.

The quartet of dragons landed in near perfect synchronization on the flight fields just outside the Crean. Mystic, first to dismount, immediately hurried around her bond’s forelimbs to reach the other two.

“I’ve been told representatives will meet with the candidates and direct them on where to go. Rugan, you may stay only as long as Roah allows.” The Red Mage instructed in clipped tones. Her long-fingered hands planted the golden butt of her staff in the ground and lifted quickly to grab the edges of her hood. The silky, gold-trimmed material flew up over her head and dropped long shadows over her face. This, most of all, was what tipped Rugan off.

“We’ll be fine.” Roah answered, for her mother was staying obstinately silent. She had one bag thrown over her shoulder and was fighting with the other, her head upturned so that she could see under the mage’s cowl. “What’re you doing here though? I mean, my mom’s enough of an escort.”

Rugan’s firm grip landed on Roah’s shoulder, neither painful nor slack. It was a simple way for the burly woman to communicate her needs. One that Roah had mastered in a matter of days. This physical statement meant ‘leave well enough alone’. The golden-eyed girl closed her mouth and let the subject drop, just as her troublesome satchel did when she failed to settle it on her other shoulder.

Without another word, the red robed woman turned and departed from the small gathering. Her crimson clothes whipped about her small frame, adding wings to the narrow shoulders and an eerie shapelessness to her movements. The light of the golden staff pierced the surroundings with a brilliance to rival the sun. Within that solid metal, buried by its blinding radiance, crouched a slumbering creature of unimaginable terror.

Everything in life has meaning. From the slightest itch that needs to be scratched to the decision that could save or destroy lives, every second that passes sees a new action made, a new path chosen. All of these changes can be predicted. Not by magic or a power of the mind, but mere observance. Everyone, everywhere drops cues about what their intentions are and where they intend to be. Mystic was no less one of these people; and her cues were well known to those who lived with her.

* * *

Faust sat in absolute darkness, not so much as a crack beneath the door illuminating his small, personal space. He needed no more then a single room with a single bed, for most of his nights were spent with Shy anyway.

In his hands he held his goggles, the thick rubber band held loosely between his two palms. Both of the round, black-painted glass panes that made up his viewing holes stared down at a ground obscured by unnatural darkness. No one would be able to see the glasses or the man. No one save him.

Phantom fire lit around his eyes as he thought back on how he had come to be this way. He knew that the skin there was wrinkled and white, marred forever from an experiment gone wrong. That part of his face was dying already, and so much faster then the rest of him. He should have been dead years ago, but science had saved him. Now he was obsessed with finding a cure.

His eyes, he knew, were pitch black. They looked as if someone had taken two polished onyx stones and shoved them into his face. If exposed to the light, they would wither and bleed, creating a chain reaction through the nerves of his brain that would eventually cause his death. Thus he wore the goggles; a prison behind which he could extend his life just a little longer.

A long suffering sigh heaved up from the little man’s chest and escaped through his parted lips. He lifted the goggles to his face once more, binding the straps behind his head as he did every day. The bed creaked beneath him as he took his weight off its edge. He could’ve easily had a suite fit for a king, but these simple surroundings reminded him of home.

Faust made his way towards the only door leading out from the room, his thoughts focused on whatever plot Shy was up to today. Thought of the odd geneticist brought a smile to the bald man’s face. A second later, it was replaced by a look of horror.

“Faust.” Came the low call from beneath the cowl. A shrouded crimson specter stood outside his door, holding a staff vertically in front of its face so that the two identical sides were split in half. Shadows obliterated what recognizable features would be on the face, but the voice was all too familiar.

Faust slammed the door shut again, his heart jumping into his throat in time to the loud bang. Turning his back against the blocked entrance he desperately sought another exit in the sparse room. He knew there were none to be had.

“Did you think I’d forget about you?” The menacing voice called again, but it was not from the other side of the door. Mystic had appeared in his chambers in the opposite corner to where he stood. Her staff was a streak of fire amidst the suffocating darkness, backlit by a golden glow that was not supposed to be there.

“Your eyes!” He breathed in awe, momentarily forgetting his wild panic.

“What about them?” Mystic smiled sweetly. A single step forward brought a lightning strike of sense back into the scientist’s mind.

“N- now, Mystic.” He stammered, edging his way along the wall. “You know you can’t kill me.”

“Yes, I know that very well.” She hissed in response, her slippered feet whispering in the wake of his erratic steps. “I know that you have burdened me with threats and blackmail. I know that, if I kill you, I will be jeopardizing the lives of so many others.” She stepped quickly to the left, filling the space he had vacated in his panic. Now she stood in front of the door instead of him. “I also know that I can do so much worse. I can grant you with an eternity of agony. I can send you to planes that speak only in pain and torment. I can force you to suffer innumerable tortures over and over for hundreds of centuries; and not once would you die, even if you should beg for it.”

Faust realized that the lump he felt growing at the back of his throat was actually his heart, beating so quickly that it had become a blur. He swallowed to wet his tonsils, but his mouth was already dry.

“You’ve had your fun here.” Mystic continued, a single slender hand rising from beneath the folds of her cloak and pointing towards Faust’s chest. “Two years of it. But now it’s time to go home. Goodnight, Faust.”

[Naeodin]

((... <Shy> *squeals* nonononono~~~ *latches on, and then decides scary mystic is fuun--* take me too! take me too! =3))

White robed representatives, creatures of different abilities and beauties waited. They were constantly around, waiting for someone to arrive, moving by some secret, telepathic formation in which they managed to nab all the candidates 'when the time was right'.

One of them, a young girl who looked mostly human perked up when the riders arrived, and her smile deepened.

"She's here."

Two others looked up. Two others with the same golden eyes that seemed to peer from some other soul.

"Roah?" someone asked, and she nodded.

These three would approach Roah and Rugan, one small boy would guide Rugan to other, public quarters far from the Vella crean's scientist. Far enough that they should get the warnings if she tried to go below ground. The others would take Roah below, to see Shy, of course. But also to her rooms.

And they will ask. 'Do you want your old rooms Roah, or will you feel better pretending that you never knew us?'

And wonder if these words would hurt.

***

And in another section of the Vella Crean, Shy was wondering a little bit where Faust was. He had promised to come and provide emotional support! Frowning, he moved to where he knew the scientist had his own rooms.
The man didn't seem to appreciate the word share. He had said time and time again to use all seven of his walk in closets if the bald man needed it. But did he listen? noooooo.

"Faust?" he called out pleasantly.

[Mystic Dragon]

Rugan snarled and seethed at the approaching trio, her grip on Roah's shoulder tightening to a near unbearable level. She made it clear that she would not go easily, but then Roah interviened.

A simple pleading look up at her mother and gentle touch to her arm calmed the fire raging behind Rugan's eyes. Her lips still curled and a low growl sat in the back of her throat, but the Wind Child had successfully tamed the ferai.

Rugan was lead away, but not without setting a glare on Shy's trio that promised years of bodily harm should they try anything. Her last resort to keeping an eye on her daughter was to leave Gray, the ever chipper flit, in Roah's care.

Then Roah was left alone with the remaining two greeters. She lifted her head high and jutted her chin out in a youthful show of pride and stubbornness. She would not be bullied, especially by their verbal barbs.

"My old room will be fine." She replied in a smooth tone that aged her fifteen years of life. "After all, this is my home too."

Yet as she was lead away, back to the underground lair she knew so well, she pondered on her own words. This place had been the home of an imaginary life. Thirteen years that Shy had made up in two hours. Her life at the Warren, a full two years long, was full of real memories. Then again, if everyone remembered how she had come to be, was it really imaginary? Where did she really belong?

* * *

The limp, white clad body was tossed unceremoniously over Myrah'Care's withers. Mystic hauled herself up behind the unconscious scientist, securing him by placing a hand flat on his back. She looked ahead into the whirling starry eyes of her bond and gave a curt nod.

It's time to go. She said privately to the silven dam.

~Are you sure you want to leave without speaking to Naeodin? She is your friend still, despite what has happened.~ The dragoness returned, her voice a silvery river of melodic chimes and bells.

I am sure. The mage bowed her head, all of which was still covered by a red cowl. I have done enough to these people. It's time to leave them in peace. Besides, Shy will soon discover what we've taken. We should be gone before he can make another switch.

~As you wish.~ Myrah' rumbled, bowing her head in submission to her bond. She righted herself, neck swivelling forward to point her angular muzzle skyward. ~We will return for the hatching.~

~Don't you worry.~ Porth called to the retreating tail of the silver queen. ~We'll keep an eye on them.~ He watched until Myrah' had blinked out of existance, then settled himself down onto the warm grasses outside the Crean. His brother and sister rested there too, none to be budged until it was time to take both mother and daughter home.

[Mystic Dragon]

((And to make it official...))


THE END

[Shard]

Awwwwww!

[Naeodin]

(( *Shy waggles his brows* If you want another performance, I'm sure I can get Faust to... ))

[Mystic Dragon]

Epilogue:

((>:D Lookie Shard! An actual story!))

The world was black.

Noise buzzed in his ears and sensations itched beneath his bare fingertips, but his eyes saw nothing. Not even the faint glow preceived through closed eye lids. The goggles made sure of that.

"Faust?" A tentative voice called by his left ear. He winced, turning his cheek into the supple pillow supporting his head.

"He wakes!" A second voice hissed, elation riding the serpentine tones. He recognized the two voices. They were all too familiar, having followed him throughout the past few years of his life.

"Master, you must hurry!" The first insisted. "The eggs are about to hatch!"

Sense finally broke through the fog in his mind. Faust opened his eyes, turning the black circles of his goggles on the two eager faces hovering over him. One was framed in a short cut of light blue hair, and the other bore a mohawk of a darker hue. Wagner and Wolfgang, his erstwhile companions in everything scientific. Forced into his service by one of his more monumentous experiments. He was quite proud of the work he'd done with them.

"What?" He queried of the two hovering scientists. His eyes itched terribly and a dull throb beat at his temples; neither of which he could remedy at that moment.

"The eggs!"

"The clutch!"

"It's hatching!" They cried in unison, twin smiles breaking across their alien faces.

"The... clutch?" He stammered, lifting a hand to massage his throbbing forehead. "The Naughty Clutch? But I thought that'd died!" He'd also thought that Mystic had intended to bring him back to the Warren for eons of torture. Being back on the Healing Den suddenly seemed like a blessing from the gods.

"We did too!"

"But it hatches!"

"Right now!" Wolfgang took ahold of his master's arm and tugged as politely as was possible for an energetic young man eager to get to a hatching. Fortunately for him, Faust oblidged and even was so kind as to use the smaller man's arm as an aid to standing.

"How did I get here?" He questioned his two helpers as they made their way out of the cramped barracks and down the hall towards the hatching sands. The air around them grew warm with each passing step and the excited buzz of hundreds of voices floated past like ghosts in the wind.

"She brought you."

"Said you were to stay here until she returned."

"Otherwise she'd... you know." Wagner trailed off, a sheepish shrug voicing the words he could not. They feared her more than death itself.

"I see." The bald scientist mused. His thoughts lapsed into silence in tandem with the growing roar of the crowd. The hatching had begun. They were late, but they would not be forgotten. So much was to come of this day; so many things he had planned. No doubt Mystic would be keeping a closer eye on him from now on, but that had never stopped him before. He had gotten closer then ever before in attaining his goal two years ago. The next time, he would not fail.

[Naeodin]

(( falalalala, la la la la))

[Shard]

Bwah hah hah....

Don't forget that Baeris is often considered a fate worse than death to Shy and one or two others... No funny stuff. Other than the typical funny stuff.

Wait. That ... came out wrong....

***

[Rachael]

O_O *pokes* IS IT A BOT? >3

[Mystic Dragon]

Ewwww... the bot got taint on my story! *Baleted!*