[Nexus] Outside XXIX

[kitcatk8]

[Alleyway]

He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't ready to give in, just a moment before she pressed her hands into his wing and spoke two quick words.

Riddle: What do you get when you cross the oldest, First demon from the Hells with a spark of insanity and a barrage of emotion he was never taught nor expected to learn?

What are you doing?!
Kill the girl!
She is my charge!
Crush the skull.
Burn it. Eat it.
Take her to your bed!
She looks so fragile.
You must hurt her!
You cannot hurt her!
Where will she be?
I am everywhere.
Where are you?
Her soul is yours.
Where am I??
KillprotectHATEDESIRETEARAPARTLOVEUNCONDITIONALLY--

All. At. Once.

The demon's icy iris slackened as it was taken over by too much blackness of his pupil, leaving only a thin rim of the lightest blue to surround. It was as if the world held it's breath.

Then the voices stopped, replaced only by one. And this one, in his head, was sweet and lovely. Exquisitely feminine and painful to remember. His mind was fighting the spell by connecting him to something he didn't want to recall.

Answer: You get a memory.

She is not I. Saerkhanum, you must waken.
Neyu? The demon's growling voice spoke the quiet word above Nixa with an unfocused gaze. Everything else was in his mind.
She is like me. She is more like you. Attack that which is most recognizable of you in her.
Pride.
Yes.

The breath the world was holding left in a sigh. Saer's pupil contracted, and his bestial maw contorted into a roar as he lifted one clawed hand and went for the nearest, helpless target he spotted -Nixa's hair.

((Attempted actions)) The demon knotted his clawed hand into the middle of all those perfect, white locks and tugged, not enough to break her neck or even tear muscle, but to stun and stop any more spelled words from leaving her lips. With only a thought, a blast of fiery heat seared the bottoms of all that hair, singeing off a foot with the promise of more. It took less than a second, and the acrid stench of what was once her hair rose in the alleyway. The attack was focused. If he'd wanted, he could have taken all of it in one go. As it was, he held her, and met her angry gaze with his own. He was giving her the choice to cease, or continue with this madness.

[orb_of_blood]

[Alleyway]

((All ages are the 'human equivalent of' as Nixa is actually drow!))
Nixa's hair has endured a lot worse. A lot worse. When Draaxar went on his first rampage when she was seven, he attacked her. All of her hair was burned to ashes, and that was the same day she received those terrible burns on her arms.

When she was twelve she had been caught by a mob of angry people, horrified at what her master had done to their city, and they'd tried to burn the dragon blood from her with torches. While she escaped unscathed, her hair had been mostly burnt away.

When she was thirteen her own fire spell experiments backfired, soaking her in flame, and again she'd lost her beautiful hair.

But then Nixa had grown tired of it. She'd been aware that similar accidents would occur, especially as she lives with a fire dragon. She had bothered Draaxar for several weeks until he gave up and taught her everything he knew about enchanting the self and not just objects.

Conclusion: Nixa's hair is pretty fire-resistant. Of course, the flames still burn off several inches and left the hair tangled and the ends blackened, but hey, it could have been much worse.

My hair! Yes, she's remarkably irritated. Yet the aim worked anyways. Nixa's not ready to lose the rest of her hair. Again. I Yield! I Yield! Let go of me! She struggles against him, but Nixa's rather physically weak and unless he releases her the struggle would get her nowhere. She's glaring at him with intense... yeah, that's hatred. Definite, strong hatred. Perhaps the hate is only temporary, but for now it's there.

[kitcatk8]

[Alleyway]

The demon snarled down at her, once more for good measure, when she yielded. The hatred in her gaze was matched with the same in his own, for what she had forced from his mind, even if that hadn't been her ultimate intention. And, like hers, it might not remain. But in that moment, in that alleyway, they shared a lot in common.

His right-handed claws were still tangled in her hair, his left wing still behind her. As a Daemoenic, he was twice her size and then some. But that changed as he slid his left forearm behind her and withdrew the wing. Or, rather, the wing started to fold itself into his bare back. The black drained carefully into white. It was not a slow process, but it was seamless. His bestial jaw morphed back into that chiseled, humanoid face. The liquid silver of his hooves and claws retreated into his nails, which were barely silver-tinted themselves under direct sunlight. Besides the silver crescents framing his face, looking like some sort of goth-y hair trend, he passed fairly easily as human at a glance. A well-muscled, stunning piece of maleness, to be sure, but still human.

When the change was finished, he still cradled her back so she was almost pressed against him -admittedly, at this point, he did it to irk her- and he was completely nude (dress slacks, boots, and belts don't take too kindly to fireballs). But then, he'd never been the shy type. His right hand remained passively tangled in her hair, but it no longer pulled. The sinister rage in those too-light eyes slowly melted into his usual humor. The look on her face...He was enjoying it far too much. And he couldn't resist speaking quietly down at her with a voice more like a man's and less like a beast's, "I lied about the dress. Seems it didn't get dirty at all."

[orb_of_blood]

[Alleyway]

Oh no, Nixa's hatred doesn't melt away that quickly. Her response to the playful banter is a baring of teeth as she uses all her strength to try and pull away from him, all whilst hissing, let go of me!

Shame at losing the battle, and shame of her burnt hair. Shame of letting all Draaxar's hard work go to waste as she's just failed him. Shame of ever leaving Draaxar in the first place. All that shame, so heavy on her shoulders, and she responds to the shame by spitting in his face.

Woah, Nixa, you really ought to calm down. Remember who you're speaking too! It's a small voice in the back of her mind, one she ignores, pushes away. Yep, that's the voice of reason, one all too used to being crushed under Nixa's pride, yet today it's been crushed under her humiliation.

Draaxar may have given up my apprenticeship, but he was a far better master than you'll ever be. You're pathetic, do you hear? Needing that form to take me on. All that power and you're still pathetic! Her enchanting eyes glow with anger, hatred, not only at him, but also at herself. Hating that she's still so weak.

Gah! Nixa don't be a fool!

What? You need to leech the life-force of others to live? Is that why you need me? If I was to die, if this other girl was to die, would you just waste away? Or do you need us for menial labor you're too weak to do yourself? Like I said. Pathetic! Now let go of me! She continues to struggle in his grip.

...great. Just great. I wonder if it's possible to quit and be the voice of reason for someone who isn't completely insane...

[kitcatk8]

[Alleyway]

All while she struggled, even when she spit and most of it ended up on his right cheek, -by virtue of his turning just slightly- he held her.

Her barrage of offensive questions were sweet in his ears. He heard the insults, he placed them all away for later. But they did not anger him. They encouraged him. If anything, they made him want this more, this challenge, this woman, this passion in her. He would be the same way if bested in battle. He understood her. She might come to realize that...in time.

And oh, they had time.

When he felt she was quite through, or at least when she'd paused long enough to take a breath, he embedded that right hand tighter into her hair, twirled it around and around his wrist and fingers slowly, with precision. And when he'd gotten up the the base of her head, he squeezed and leaned over her, keeping her head in place with the pressure on her entire scalp. With that hold, he touched his right cheek to her right, smearing the spit along her own cheek, even as it sizzled away upon contact between each of their too-hot skins. If the whole process wasn't so forced and revolting, it might be almost sweet.

Then again, maybe 'sweet' was pushing it.

At the end of the gesture, he turned his head and breathed in at the skin just below her pointed ear, still keeping her in place, keeping her from struggling. He liked her here, very much. At the end of that deep inhale, he murmured quietly, "By your word, Nixa," It was the first time he'd spoken her name to address her, to her, "you are mine, now. Though I haven't yet marked you. I will do as you ask, I will release you from this hold, but I will only do so if you come back with me, willingly, without further fight or protest, to my room at the Inn. There, I will place my mark on you. Or," He gripped his hand tighter in her hair, for a moment, to bring just a little bit of pain, to make a point. "You may deny this, you may continue to try and free yourself, but know even as you do, you only make a liar and a coward of yourself. And the end result shall be the same. It will simply be by force. I will claim what is rightfully mine."

He leaned back then, slowly, tipping his face over hers so he could see her eyes. His nose even lightly brushed the tip of hers before he was within comfortable gazing distance. "What is your will?"

[RandomPoster]

Dipple's Hamlet

When the light goes out, Dam'Bul assumes the metallic mechanical menace is deceased, and tosses the Cylon aside roughly. "Blasted thing. What should we do with it? Leave it to rust, or take it the Abyss and see if Pazuzu's technicians can reconstruct it? Though hopefully without free will."

"Leave it. Techno-golems aren't Pazuzu's divine territory, and attempting to copy it might upset old gearhead and Pazuzu doesn't want to risk open warfare at the moment." Nephrim's scornful, and ignores the Cylon. "Back to work, everybody! Keep the spears close, though; it might have been a scout. Not you, though. You, follow me." Nephrim turns and walks back to the hut, followed by a young man in his prime with a vacant expression.

[Dipple's Hamlet]

((Sorry, I actually did forget about this until you mentioned it two days ago, but by that point reality struck again ))

Several hours will pass before the Centurion's internal systems reboot. It is crippled beyond all belief (for the second time, it angrily thinks to itself), so it will begin to slowly crawl its way towards the center of the village. It'll attempt to first remove any thing that looks remotely like an unholy symbol for further analysis later.

... That is, assuming that the townspeople are back to the zombie-like state they were in before the Centurion royally botched the reconnaissance.

[Earl of Purple]

Dipple's Hamlet

The villagers have returned to their brainwashed state, and continue working without stop.

Meanwhile, Nephrim's chanting can be heard from one of the huts as she performs the ritual necessary to bring Dam'Bul back to this realm, via the worker she intercepted earlier.

Nothing will stop the damaged Cylon from removing a vulture-shaped piece of wood with a human skull for a body from the altar. Fortunately, it's not a silver amulet- I play those as being reserved to the clergy, and as such have very negative effects when worn by somebody who doesn't follow the deity it represents.

[BladeofObliviom]

[Fields of Utter Silliness]

Cyrus can't help but grin at Kal's utterly ridiculous notions of how politics work.


"And that's what you think? You think that putting Ilpholin in charge will change AMEN away from being a cesspool of intrigue and rivalry? I can tell you that it will change nothing. Perhaps the percentage of members curtaining would rise without Gordon and Prometheus dragging said statistic down, but that's all that would happen. AMEN would not be any more an organization than it is now with Ilpholin in charge. It would be a cesspool of petty intrigue, rivalries, and slightly more meaningless curtains. It would be a wonder if she were to last a month without being herself deposed.

But is that your real purpose? Perhaps it is true that you merely want power for yourself? I can't think of any other reason you would object to Prometheus bringing in medics for after the battle unless you desire the whole lot of them to die so you can fill the vacuum. It certainly doesn't hurt my hypothesis that you just summoned a number of servants, presumably to silence those who would oppose your rise. All the evidence points to one of two conclusions as to your motives, sir, and neither are beneficial to AMEN as a whole."

[Hattish Thing]

Fields of Confused Drow

Javert pipes in, ....So, what happens if they're all dead? Magtok is a heap of bloody junk, that drow female is almost.....Er....Yeah. Th other two, I have no idea if they're dead or not....But, it seems to me that they are all pretty much corpses, or at least, near-corpses. What I'm trying to say is.....who won? Who decides it?


Javert thinks, Hmm.....If Magatok's mush I might as well start blowing stuff up. I'll wait until I know who won....

[The Bushranger]

[Fields of Utter Awesomeness]

Becky gapes at The Return of the Ilpholin, and then applauds whole-heartedly.
...and starts to celebrate...

In the process, Greg gets poked in the side, Cyrus gets a combat boot applied (in an amused fashion) to his backside, Javert gets a glare, and Kal takes an arrow to the knee.

The arrow, of course, she isn't responsible for. It just happens.

[Hattish Thing]

Fields of Glare

Javert notices the glare and simply stares, What? Do I have something in my teeth? Javert shows off his fangs in a flashy smile.

[orb_of_blood]

[Alleyway]

[Alleyway]

Spoiler

Show

All while she struggled, even when she spit and most of it ended up on his right cheek, -by virtue of his turning just slightly- he held her.

Her barrage of offensive questions were sweet in his ears. He heard the insults, he placed them all away for later. But they did not anger him. They encouraged him. If anything, they made him want this more, this challenge, this woman, this passion in her. He would be the same way if bested in battle. He understood her. She might come to realize that...in time.

And oh, they had time.

When he felt she was quite through, or at least when she'd paused long enough to take a breath, he embedded that right hand tighter into her hair, twirled it around and around his wrist and fingers slowly, with precision. And when he'd gotten up the the base of her head, he squeezed and leaned over her, keeping her head in place with the pressure on her entire scalp. With that hold, he touched his right cheek to her right, smearing the spit along her own cheek, even as it sizzled away upon contact between each of their too-hot skins. If the whole process wasn't so forced and revolting, it might be almost sweet.

Then again, maybe 'sweet' was pushing it.

At the end of the gesture, he turned his head and breathed in at the skin just below her pointed ear, still keeping her in place, keeping her from struggling. He liked her here, very much. At the end of that deep inhale, he murmured quietly, "By your word, Nixa," It was the first time he'd spoken her name to address her, to her, "you are mine, now. Though I haven't yet marked you. I will do as you ask, I will release you from this hold, but I will only do so if you come back with me, willingly, without further fight or protest, to my room at the Inn. There, I will place my mark on you. Or," He gripped his hand tighter in her hair, for a moment, to bring just a little bit of pain, to make a point. "You may deny this, you may continue to try and free yourself, but know even as you do, you only make a liar and a coward of yourself. And the end result shall be the same. It will simply be by force. I will claim what is rightfully mine."

He leaned back then, slowly, tipping his face over hers so he could see her eyes. His nose even lightly brushed the tip of hers before he was within comfortable gazing distance. "What is your will?"

Throughout the gesture, Nixa stayed very, very still, hardly daring to breath. She couldn't break away, she knew that. It was very odd, as she knew she ought to be terrified, yet having him this close to her, that much heat pressed against her, it formed ideas that at this stage she did not want to think about.

When he pulls back a little, Nixa glares up at him, so coldly for someone with that blood, I am neither a liar nor a coward. I've already agreed. You don't have to threaten me.

Ooh, her face is filled with emotion. Anger, hatred, shame, venom... curiosity? What, really? After all that? Apparently she's more curious about the mark than worried about it. Everything else is directed towards him, but the curiosity, she's actually looking forward to learning about this mark.

See, Nixa's an enchantress. She believes she may be able to tell every enchantment on the item she's given, and that would be so useful in her research and experiments. And that's all she really cares about. That's where her most of her pride comes from.

But despite her willingness to go along with this mark placement, to serve a new master, in her mind one single thought stands above all the others:
I miss Draaxar...
and for the briefest moment, regret and pain shine through her mask of hatred, and she tries to turn her face from him so he can't see it.

[Zefir]

Ultimate Showdown

Moff 82 tries to give Zefir a wedgie.

[Fields of Truth and Fire]

"And on another note. Why should she as a WATCHTOWER member lead us?"

Dun DUN DUN! Remember the wedding? Yeah Zefir was there in disguise and he saw her since it was really obviouse she was there. Zefir also knew that only WATCh member and family member where invited. I knew his Firework shop could be usefull Yeah.

And then he got a Moff behind him. Zefir doesn't notice him befor he graps his underwear his body acts more or less intuitive and he swings around the rocket launcher (trying)* to hit the Moff. His face changed under the pain of a half wedgie, what still hurts even if it isn't done totally?

* speech problem, not sure if this word is needed here or not for a not Godmod szene

[kitcatk8]

[Alleyway]
[/spoiler]

Throughout the gesture, Nixa stayed very, very still, hardly daring to breath. She couldn't break away, she knew that. It was very odd, as she knew she ought to be terrified, yet having him this close to her, that much heat pressed against her, it formed ideas that at this stage she did not want to think about.

When he pulls back a little, Nixa glares up at him, so coldly for someone with that blood, I am neither a liar nor a coward. I've already agreed. You don't have to threaten me.

Ooh, her face is filled with emotion. Anger, hatred, shame, venom... curiosity? What, really? After all that? Apparently she's more curious about the mark than worried about it. Everything else is directed towards him, but the curiosity, she's actually looking forward to learning about this mark.

See, Nixa's an enchantress. She believes she may be able to tell every enchantment on the item she's given, and that would be so useful in her research and experiments. And that's all she really cares about. That's where her most of her pride comes from.

But despite her willingness to go along with this mark placement, to serve a new master, in her mind one single thought stands above all the others:
I miss Draaxar...
and for the briefest moment, regret and pain shine through her mask of hatred, and she tries to turn her face from him so he can't see it.

[Alleyway]

Saer raised an eyebrow in an ironic expression when she told him she didn't need to be threatened. Oh, really?, his face said, but he didn't need to speak it aloud.

Then that look...that brief look flashed through her eyes and she tried to turn her face away. He held her fast, tightening his hand in that fistful of hair once more so she couldn't. The amused expression was gone, left with something more calculating, more human. He watched her try to cover it up, but he knew emotional pain when he saw it. If she would look at him, he held her eyes, and in that simple gaze, he told her he had seen what she tried to cover up, and that he had appreciated it. Not for her pain, but for her vulnerability. For allowing a real emotion to slip through, past the ever-present mask of umbrage and self-importance.

And then, slowly, carefully, he released her and pulled her to standing steadily on her own two feet. His bare arm remained at her lower back longer than was necessary, slid forward along her waist in a lingering caress before he had let her go completely. "Then let's waste no more time."

He went first to one of the walls of the alleyway, where he had pulled off his cloak and shirt. The shirt, he left. The cloak, he pulled around his nakedness. Not for him, but for others. Still, the walk to retrieve it had given her plenty of time to watch his sculpted body in movement, and it was certainly not an unattractive sight.

He glanced one more time her way to make certain she followed, then gave a nod to lead them out of the alleyway.

((DFI, ahoy))

[orb_of_blood]

[Alleyway]

After Saer pulls away, when he's not looking at her, Nixa shivers. Not from any type of cold but from fright. It's an emotion she's no longer used to, one she hates, one she's been taught to cover up...

----
Spoilered for length ((unspoilered would make the post stretch the page)):

Spoiler

Show

<Seventy years previously>

What's the matter, Child?
I'm afraid, Draaxar! Nixa curls up under the blanket, her small red eyes flashing with fear. Outside the wind howled and ice blew up against the side of the cave. A new cave, much higher in the mountains than before, and Nixa can't sleep. This is her first ice storm, and the new cave was creepy enough before it set in.
Why, Child? I'm here. And even if I wasn't, child, you have the dragon blood. Draaxar, more than ten times her size, curls his long tail around her protectively, giving her his soothing heat. Vivilandra was so terrified of everything. He'd have to fix that. He couldn't burn away the fear, but he could replace it. With something better. With Pride.
But the ice!
Ice can't hurt you Child, not if you can control it.
But I can't Draaxar! Nixa tightens herself into a tiny ball, shaking. I can't... I don't know how!
Not yet, Child. You'll learn. Think of it this way, whenever you're scared, just see it as a way of learning. That way nothing can hurt you. He nuzzles her gently with the tip of his giant red nose.

------

Learning. It was a learning experience. The shakes end and she smooths out her dress, the memory playing in her mind. No fear, no fear, just education. Curiosity.

Nixa averts her eyes as Saer walks from her, and keeps them averted until he covers himself. She's not embarrassed, not really, but that's mostly only because she's aware it isn't his true form. Still, Draaxar had always allowed her her privacy and she thought it only fair to give Saer his, whether he was concerned about it or not.

Again she masks her face with an uncaring expression, and strides after him. Fine. Just so you're aware though, if you burn my hair again, I'm going to make you suffer. How? Well... she'll come to that if it ever became an issue. And she really hoped it wouldn't.

She follows him back into the DFI, keeping her head held high and trying to maintain whatever dignity she has left.

[Chezmarine]

Ah, sorry, missed that post. Assuming they were right in front of him when he fired, then they wouldn't have had much time to dodge. However, neither would Chez then when the ones he didn't shoot came at him.

[Madness? THIS. IS. TRRROOOGGS!]

Chez grunted and ejected the shells from his Coach gun.

And is Rushed by a bunch of slaves...

"Aw, ****." He says, barely loading the Coach gun before he's onslaught-ed...

"All Right, you ****ers! Suck it Down!" He growls, reaching for his belt...

"Come on... Come on..." He grunts, feeling around for a Pin. He grabs one, and Braces him self as the grenade he just armed falls to the Floor.

Just one Problem.

Was it a Flashbang, A beanbag, or a Tear Gas Grenade?

[Mina Kobold]

[Trogside of Out's... Erh, Outside of Trog's]

AM4 fights with her boxing-like style as the slaves close in, probably dealing several broken noses and ringing ears before being cornered.

Then, in a movement that seems almost entirely accidental, she sweeps her arm again and sends a wave of Ethereal energy at the slaves. This time as strong as the first.

"What in-Heep!"

Cutting off her own surprised exclamation with a short steam-venting sound, the automaton looks around fearfully before looking back at the next slaves.

[kitcatk8]

[Outside the Marketplace]

Several hours after departing the DFI, Saer had made a number of purchases to be delivered to his Nexus home. Mostly bits of furniture which were spelled to withstand ridiculous amounts of heat. Protection charms and the like. He had no innate magical abilities himself (though some may argue the point with him, but what he did was not magic. Not by the usual standard). A charm here or there he could cast as any layman with the proper reagents. But otherwise, larger spells tended to mix...oddly...with his demon blood. He'd learned to steer clear of it.

He was leaving the marketplace, contemplating if there was anything else he might need. Though he was fairly satisfied with his list. Angele would be off-put by the arrival. The thought made him smirk as he tucked away his receipts.

[RandomPoster]

Dipple's Hamlet

The villagers have returned to their brainwashed state, and continue working without stop.

Meanwhile, Nephrim's chanting can be heard from one of the huts as she performs the ritual necessary to bring Dam'Bul back to this realm, via the worker she intercepted earlier.

Nothing will stop the damaged Cylon from removing a vulture-shaped piece of wood with a human skull for a body from the altar. Fortunately, it's not a silver amulet- I play those as being reserved to the clergy, and as such have very negative effects when worn by somebody who doesn't follow the deity it represents.

In that case, it'll place the wooden symbol between the chrome plating of his torso and his interior. It'll attempt to recollect the weapons it dropped (unless the humans have collected the scattered submachine guns and sniper rifle), and crawl its way back to the hill it was on when it originally surveyed the hamlet.

[Earl of Purple]

Dipple's Hamlet

The humans have not taken the weaponry, as they weren't ordered to. Nephrim was planning on grabbing a submachine gun and unloading the other for spare ammo, but she hasn't done it yet and she's still focussed on bringing Dam'Bul into his new host. The sniper rifle is too large for Nephrim to use properly; she's limited to prepubescent humanoid forms, ones with arms too short to hold a rifle properly. Hence why she's so keen on pistols and knives.

Nothing will stop the Cylon leaving the village, as red light and evil-smelling purple smoke spills from the hut within which Dam'Bul is being summoned into a new host.

[orb_of_blood]

[Outside the marketplace]

[Outside the Marketplace]

Several hours after departing the DFI, Saer had made a number of purchases to be delivered to his Nexus home. Mostly bits of furniture which were spelled to withstand ridiculous amounts of heat. Protection charms and the like. He had no innate magical abilities himself (though some may argue the point with him, but what he did was not magic. Not by the usual standard). A charm here or there he could cast as any layman with the proper reagents. But otherwise, larger spells tended to mix...oddly...with his demon blood. He'd learned to steer clear of it.

He was leaving the marketplace, contemplating if there was anything else he might need. Though he was fairly satisfied with his list. Angele would be off-put by the arrival. The thought made him smirk as he tucked away his receipts.

The only warning Saer would have received is a squawk as a bird tries to fly away from the dragon very, very quickly. Then the tail drops down. Without even landing, Draaxar tries to stop Saer from leaping aside with a coil of hot red scales, then scoop him up with the long tail and fly away with him.

He wants to have a word with the demon. One where Saer can't threaten or just get up and leave. One where Draaxar can get some answers.

[kitcatk8]

[Outside the Marketplace...In the Air...]

The squawk of the bird meant next to nothing to the demon. What did catch his attention more than anything was the sudden barreling essence of heat aimed directly at him.

To the dragon's credit, for how large he was, he was fast.

The receipts went scattering as Saer yelled and tried to fight off the appendage while it darted down and curled around him like a whip. He dodged, but not enough. He was able to keep his arms and legs free, but the red-scaled limb wrapped around his waist and starting burning his shirt. That, more than anything, pissed him off. "Frenzied Hell's Fire, you can't be serious!" The last word turned into a growling snarl, more animal than man, and Saer's skin started to elevate in temperature. His hands gripped painfully hard on the tail in front of him.

If Draaxar didn't talk, and fast, Saer would be growing twice in size with wings very shortly.

[orb_of_blood]

[In the air]

Draaxar's scales are much, much harder then they look. The demon's grip is nothing to him. As for changing, well, the scales are as rough as sandpaper and the edges sharp. The slightest movement results in cuts and scrapes where the skin peels back from the appendage.

He continues to fly up, up, batting his huge leathery wings until they're nice and high where the air is cold and the building lie below them in a patchwork manner. Once up, he curls his tail around so he can face Saer.

Hello, Little Demon. I have a few questions. Grant me the time to answer them? Hah, that's a laugh. Even if Saer snarled no, Draaxar would ask anyways, then maybe squeeze him nice and hard if he still refused to answer. I hope you'll be truthful with me, Little Demon. I hate to have to squeeze you until you pop. I've lost so many companions that way...

[kitcatk8]

[In the Air]

The demon bared his teeth at the dragon as he was whirled around so they faced one another. His torso was getting cut up with each move he made, but the heat from the dragon's body healed each slice almost instantly. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. And did not place him in a better mood.

As for squeezing him until he popped, Saer was made of sturdier stuff than that. The body may have looked mortal, but it was strong. Ironically, Draaxar's warmth fed into that strength like a battery.

His shift abated as the dragon spoke, but only because the teeth weren't going for his face. "What in the Hells is wrong with you!"

[orb_of_blood]

[Up in the air]

Draaxar laughed. Many things, but that's not the issue at the moment. He squeezes Saer lightly to remind him to be polite.

How is Vivilandra? he asks, his tone growing serious.

Draaxar's wings were beginning to hurt. Hovering was difficult to do. So he picks a direction and begins flying, looping around eventually so that he flies in a large circle.

[kitcatk8]

[In the air]

The demon let out a barking snarl which was cut off as he was squeezed, though it only ticked him off even more.

There was a difference between Saer being enraged, and Saer being irritated beyond all reason. Enraged would have had him shifted, attacking without thought, roaring his defiance, and unable to speak or think. He had hovered the line until he recognized Draaxar's reason for abducting him, and then it had slipped into incredulous umbrage, which was exactly what was reflected in his growling voice in that moment. "You can't be serious??"

Pushing down on the tail again, Saer's teeth grit as he tried, not to escape, but to put the appendage around a part of his ribs that didn't dig in as much. More cuts and heals resulted. No comfort came. He screamed wordlessly in frustration and yelled again at Draaxar. "You damned crazy over-sized freak of a lizard, she's fine, ok?! She's FINE."

[orb_of_blood]

[In the air]

Really, Draaxar seems more amused at his response than anything else. He's actually enjoying the demon's anger.

May I see her? Heh, he knew the answer would be no, he just wanted to see how the demon would react. He was testing the demon, seeing how upset things make him so that he could maybe warn Nixa. He worried about her.

The tail was whip-lashed to the back momentarily as he changed direction in the air, then whipped back to the front again. No apology or explanation was given except for the red dragons smug smirk.

[kitcatk8]

[In the Air]

To the dragon's question, Saer simply stared, like what had come out of Draaxar's muzzle had been gibberish. It took him two tries before he was finally able to get a single word out. "What?"

Then he was whipped backwards and forwards again. His eyes shut and he made a hissing sound as he grit his teeth and growled. It had forced a particularly deep cut into his abdomen, just below his ribs which actually sizzled from the blood loss before it sealed again. The look Saer flashed Draaxar was, to put it nicely, not pleased.

He would have taken a deep breath if it wouldn't have hurt.

Gritting his teeth, he fought once more for calm as he spoke in a more rational tone, though it was clear he was no less pissed. "That would not be a good idea."

[orb_of_blood]

[In the air]

No? No I suppose it wouldn't. He quiets, continuing to fly, thinking. He doesn't say very much further, testing now the patience Saer has.

Down below they pass over the marketplace again, just a tiny dot far away. How do you like the view? Draaxar asks happily. It was just so peaceful and calming, and he could stay up her for weeks...

Oh, he remembered the last thing he was going to say to the demon. I have a riddle for you. Will you hear it? not that you have much choice. Tell me, what do you get if you mix Hontues flowers and Trilya nectar with Berijone juice and blow very hot flames over it? He wasn't truly expecting the demon to know the answer as both items were from his planet and quite rare. He gives a few moments, then interrupts the demon if he starts to speak. Nothing, you get absolutely nothing. Unless you add some blood and a few enchantments. Then you'd get a very nasty blood spell. He gives Saer a wide grin with his very sharp, yellow teeth.

[kitcatk8]

[In the Air]

As the dragon continued to talk, Saer simply stared. Even when he went into what the demon presumed to be a threat, he continued to stare. There was no fear, nor even a shiver of foreboding. If the threat was a real one, then Saer might find cause to worry. As it was, Draaxar had yet to give the demon a concrete reason why he should give a damn.

So, he stared with those icy blue eyes, glazed with arrogance, and waited for the dragon to make his point.