"I wish we could have taken a falcon again," Orn Khai says, stretching his wings as

he lands on the ashen rock underfoot, "These flimsy boats are like to get blown
away in the wind."
Estinien hops off said boat and onto the island, scowling already. Making the trip
out to a nearby volcanic island to investigate baseless rumors was one
inconvenience already - he did not require additional commentary from a pesky
dragonet to accent his every move. The elezen tethers their unimpressive vessel to
a nearby rock, hoping it wouldn't be carried away on the waves in their absence.
He straps his lance to his back with an onze more force than necessary, if only to
remind the whelp that he is still a seasoned hunter of dragons and not a Fury-
forsaken nursemaid. "Need I remind you that our priority is to travel efficiently,
not luxuriously?"
The other is, predictably, unfazed. "A falcon would travel more efficiently because
it can fly. Mayhap you should sell that ring of yours?" Orn Khai tilts his head
curiously like a chocobo chick, eyeing the trinket of gold hanging from a modest
chain around Estinien's neck. The latter quickly tucks the keepsake into the
material of his inner shirt and away from unwanted gazes looking to snap it up.
"I am not pawning off my ring." The dragoon growls immediately, sweeping his salt-
caked bangs out of his vision. "Be grateful my coin got us this far."
Not that it would fetch that much in the first place, being a simple gilded band.
But it was his last reminder of Ishgard proper, and the only one he cared to hold
close. Each time he glanced upon it, it brought to mind eyes of bright azure, dark
locks of soft hair, long fingers threading through his own silvery tresses and
clasping his numb hands in the cold.
Aymeric always had a prenatural sense for his elusive habits. It was likely pure
intuition he knew to find him outside of de Borel manor the night before his
decided departure from the Holy See. The dragoon had been waffling for a precious
moment beneath the silent, jeweled sky, debating on slipping away silently into the
dark without affording the other the courtesy of a goodbye.
Estinien committed to memory how he looked under the dim lanterns in the streets of
the Pillars, his cheeks rosy from the cold and long lashes nearly obscuring his
gaze. Aymeric expressed a disdain for the hue, once - the color was a gift from
Thordan, the same keen clarity inherited from his late father.
Yet they didn't hold the same piercing chill of the Archbishop. They were filled
with Aymeric's own warmth as he slipped the band onto Estinien's finger with a
knowing smile.
"Come back when you can." He lifted Estinien's hand and delicately pressed his lips
to the back of it. In that moment, the dragoon privately admitted to understanding
how he could come to charm so many tittering noblewomen at those frivolous balls.
"However long it takes, I will wait for you."
One would be a fool to think he did not consider whisking Aymeric away right then
and there. He was constantly plagued with flights of fancy since that night -
fantasies of tugging the other beneath the towering canopies of Dravania and
becoming lost in the forests together, overlooking the view from the Churning Mists
and whiling away the bells in quiet company and ancient memories...
Instead, he is in the Far East, hair and skin nigh saturated with ash and ocean
air, and responsible for a troublesome dragonet to boot. He wordlessly curses when
another strong breeze fills his mouth with the taste of salt.
Orn Khai shakes him from his reverie with an insistent tug on his sleeve, intent on
exploring Sakazuki for any sign of their mythical quarry.
"How did the Warrior of Light tolerate you," he mutters, following the other.
"I would say they were delighted to be in my presence, young dragoon." The dragonet
replies pointedly. "Perhaps you should learn from their example."
"Somehow, I doubt that." He snorts in response. The image of the warrior's patented
deadpan stare comes to mind. They were probably too polite to say anything at the
risk of putting a damper on the whelp's boundless excitement.
Estinien spares a glance at the towering volcano sitting at the center of the
island. The sky is blessedly fair and tantalizingly open, yet plumes of smoke
periodically wind their way through the air. One of the Kojin in Kugane mentioned a
sacred temple with divine animals traipsing about, but the elezen can only see dark
rock and hungry monsters teeming for yalms on end. If there were any benevolent
creatures lurking in the vicinity, he cannot imagine why they would choose here, of
all places.
Though Kojin were not wont to be as shrewd as Namazu, Estinien cannot help but
think their singular lead was no more than a faerie tale.
"Reminds me of Morn," Orn Khai says after an experimental sniff. For Estinien, the
scent of smoke first calls to mind Ishgard burning by dragon spit. But the scene
melts away to the pocket of brimstone and molten rock hidden behind Anyx Trine with
the soft, rotting flesh of his children, voiceless as they rested at the foot of
Sohm Al.
Luckily, smoky air and crumbling stone do not bother either of them. Orn Khai
dutifully flutters around the uneven formations while Estinien leaps up another
rocky ledge for a better vantage point, marking this as a pointless endeavor until
he spots- is that a raccoon, blissfully napping by a pit of lava?
He moves without thinking, effortlessly jumping from crag to crag, until he all but
savagely pounces upon the creature as if a beast from the hunt. The sudden impact
startles the defenseless thing and it lets out a squeak, curling into itself when
Estinien looms over it and unceremoniously picks it up by the scruff, wondering if
the shock had accidentally stopped its heart.
"What's that? Food?" He can hear the drool dripping from Orn Khai's voice when the
dragonet flies over.
"Perhaps." His stomach growls, as if to emphasize what a practical suggestion it
is. Vermin didn't typically have much meat to offer, but this one seems rather
well-fed. A strange sight, given the dangerous terrain.
"You mortals are so rude nowadays!" Comes the tiny voice from the trembling
creature. "You're lucky I'm not the one eating you!"
Perhaps another would be surprised by the outburst, but Estinien has seen his fair
share of Creatures That Should Not Talk, and remains unaffected. This must be one
of those blessed animals the Kojin mentioned, he belatedly realizes over his
thoughts of smoked raccoon meat. His grip on the thing's scruff doesn't loosen as
he leans in to inspect his next meal with narrowing eyes.
"Raccoon-dog," He starts, jostling the animal slightly from where it dangles in the
air.
"I have a name, you know. It's Furi!" It puffs, paws flailing uselessly in the air.
"Fine, Furi," Estinien sighs before continuing, "Are you familiar with the legends
of an azure dragon?"
That causes the struggling to stop, recognition passing through its black, beady
eyes. "Oh! You seek an audience with Lord Seiryu?"
A regrettable answer, for Estinien momentarily laments the loss of a fresh helping
of jerky. He reluctantly sets the creature down onto the ground, settling for
eyeing it with a generous helping of suspicion. In the scant time they've known
each other, Furi, at least, doesn't seem to be as purposely obtuse as a moogle.
"Aye. Rumors of his misconduct have been spread across the land. We want to know if
he truly devours people - does he?"
"Well, he can be kind of scary at times," The raccoon brings one paw to its chin in
thought. "And he's not one to fraternize with the younger auspices like Genbu or
Byakko, but I don't know if he's been eating men."
"See? I told you we were right to investigate!" Orn Khai butts in, sounding far too
self-satisfied for someone who convinced him to use the last of his carefully
rationed coin to seek passage across the Ruby Sea.
"Still, I don't know if I would be able to grant you an audience with him,
considering he is one of the Four Lords. Only auspices are permitted here, and you
look like a fresh hatchling."
"I'll have you know I am almost three centuries old!" The dragonet huffs, wings
flapping in agitation. " Much older than this mewling whelp I have been tasked with
keeping an eye on."
"Is that so? Awful impressive for a lizard." Furi replies without a hint of malice.
"I am a dragon ." As if to demonstrate, a small plume of blue flame escapes the
other's mouth. "And I have been bringing good fortune to the people of Kugane!"
Estinien rolls his eyes at that, wondering if they would vacate his skull in the
process.
"A dragon, you say...?" The dragoon watches in disbelief as Furi seemingly
contemplates this new detail. He knew that reverence of dragons was prevalent among
the merchants of Kugane, but never did he think the superstition would extend to
the animals as well. "Hmm... I suppose I can make an exception for you, then."
The raccoon paws at the small lead resting atop its head, flattening it on the
ground in preparation for- poof! With a puff of smoke, it transforms into a
detailed map of the Ruby Sea, if a bit crinkled.
"Lord Seiryu returned to his island after a lengthy stay at the temple - here, to
the east." The creature plants a dainty paw on one small area of the map. "Tell him
Furi sent you, and he should know you mean no harm."
"Fury?" Orn Khai echoes imperfectly. "Oh, like the goddess!" He nods, seemingly
pleased with himself.
"No, no - Furi." The raccoon-dog vigorously shakes its head.
"Furry?"
"No, see?" In another puff of smoke, the fluffy tail of the creature turns into an
ink-soaked brush. Characters in Hingan are quickly scrawled on the leaf in an
attempt to further explain. "Fu. Ri."
Orn Khai gives the leaf a second of dedicated scrutiny before declaring his
judgement. "I cannot read!" He chirps happily.
" Furi, got it." Estinien cuts in before he has to listen to any more of this
ridiculous exchange.
"Here, you can have this." Furi rolls up the map, offering it to Estinien who
plucks it from betwixt fuzzy paws. "I admit it was a pretty nice leaf, but I can
always find another one. I would rather you not get lost delivering your missive to
Lord Seiryu. Best of luck to both of you!"
"Don't worry, I promise to keep this young mortal out of trouble!" Orn Khai calls
out as he turns to leave.
Estinien nearly sputters at that, teeth grinding as he sets a brisk pace back
towards the boat.
Traveling with Orn Khai is distracting, to say the least.
Being in the company of a child of Faunehm and Vedrfolnir makes Nidhogg stir in the
shallows, the wyrm implacable like a constant undercurrent. Orn Khai is evidence of
a union that transcended the power of song, a faint mixture of guilt and fondness
alternating and weaving together in turn.
He remembers Faunehm as a proud daughter with obsidian scales like the night,
always full of love and wit even as the eons passed. The brightness of her
headstrong soul was only matched by Vedrfolnir's devotion to his beloved, the two
perfectly entwined with scales of light and dark. The dragonet's name reminds him
of how quickly those halcyon days shattered, and how his daughter was driven to
madness for the sake of her consort and children.
Estinien, however, refuses to consider the dragonling more than another winged
pest. Nidhogg growls in a low echo to protect the child, though Estinien supposes
the concern is not entirely baseless.
On a secluded island to the east, covered in luscious greenery, Estinien is unable
to shed the sensation of being watched. White feathers constantly flit through the
trees while snakes slither underfoot, their scales gleaming in the sparse snatches
of the sun that make it through the dense canopy. Estinien cannot carelessly stomp
through the undergrowth lest he meet a pair of unhappy fangs, and the trees leave
little room for vigorous maneuvers. His ears twitch periodically in interest,
trying to pick up the slightest indication of a dragon's presence.
Orn Khai is similarly cautious, thankfully. He clings to Estinien's shoulders, not
keen on flying and bumping into branches along the way. He makes hushed chatter as
they hike across the island, searching for a dragon's abode. So far, the quarters
seem less than accommodating for any creature of man-eating stature, and Estinien
wonders if the azure dragon truly resides here.
His misgivings are promptly dashed, however, when the duo spots across a clearing
through the brush. They keep to the cover of leaves and bushes, hesitantly peeking
through a small window to scan the area.
The first thing Estinien notices is how open it is. Unlike the rest of the island,
this portion is unguarded by the stalwart trees, winding branches forming a wreath
about the vicinity. The ornate architecture framing the area is adorned with
symbols of geomancy and carvings in the shape of serpents. A dueling ground,
perhaps? Or some sort of ceremonial platform?
But what catches Estinien's attention the most is the calm chimera that rests at
the center of the wood, eyes closed as if in sleep. The dragoon is momentarily
entranced by the glimmering scales rippling across the creature's body with each
languid flick of its tail, the color the same as a fathomless ocean in dancing rays
of sunlight.
Estinien's breath hitches at the sight. The azure dragon, Seiryu.
Dragons are not usually so fair, he thinks dryly, remembering why he journeyed to
this uninhabited corner of the Ruby Sea. This one appears to be closer to an
Allagan amalgamation of elezen and dragon, like the forgotten specimens he came
across at Azys Lla.
This wyrm is possessed of a power different than my kin, Nidhogg rumbles lowly. And
he is right - the air around the dragon is deathly still yet impossibly tempestuous
underneath, like a serpent coiled and poised to sink his fangs into him at a
moment's notice. Every ilm of Estinien's skin is on guard, despite the creature
being yalms away.
Dragons tended to fight without pretense, commanding overwhelming power and letting
instinct guide their manipulation of the elements. But this is no senseless
violence borne of simple rage - it appears closer to the intricate techniques of
geomancy, the way Seiryu is lost in meditation. More dangerous, then, for he had
little knowledge of eastern magicks in combat.
A jolt travels up his spine when the dragon's gaze fixes directly on him. He
clenches his jaw. Clearly they were expected.
"Stay hidden, little one." Estinien whispers to Orn Khai. "Something isn't right."
For once, the dragonet doesn't succumb to his incessantly curious nature and simply
nods as he ducks lower into the bushes. Estinien takes a moment to brace himself
before leaping from his perch through the humid island air.
He lands on one mossy branch, then another, before finally reaching the dragon's
domain. The chimera is much larger in person, he faintly notes as he cranes his
neck upwards. Estinien squints, slightly blinded by the uncomfortable angle.
"Are you the dragon known as Seiryu?" Estinien asks. He instantly feels the immense
pressure exerted by the beast when Seiryu's eyes are Coerthan ice, sharp and
unforgiving even from the distance between them. Still, Estinien does not let
himself be daunted - he's stared into the maw of worse beasts.
"Indeed." The dragon answers patiently, brushing away one lock of shimmering hair
to look down upon the elezen. The twin serpents bound to his hide spit at their
intruder despite their master's composed demeanor. "For what reason would a mortal
have to enter my domain?"
"I would know what sins you've committed." Estinien says simply. He unsheathes the
lance on his back and points the end at Seiryu in warning, feeling his temples
pulse with Nidhogg's song. "And if need be, take your head."
"You would presume to judge me? How facetious. " The serpent hisses, conjuring his
own arm from the aether.
The golden blade glints dangerously in the sun, steeped in the dragon's powerful
magicks. It seemed there would be no peaceable negotiations, then. Estinien
bristles, shifting his previously bold stance to one more suited towards flight. He
mentally recounts his avenues of escape as he glowers at the wyrm.
Seiryu only brandishes his arm in response. "I shall make your death swift,
impudent fool."
Seiryu strikes with a fury in the next breath. The edge of his sword nearly skewers
Estinien as he jumps back, and the dragoon is certain he wouldn't be standing if he
were but a moment slower.
It seemed the fabled azure dragon was merely a flesh-hungry fiend after all,
Estinien thinks as he regains his balance after landing on the opposite side of the
arena. Seiryu is unlike any dragon he has known, but his purpose remains the same:
to reach the hearts of wyrms afflicted by madness, be it through words or his
piercing lance.
Estinien is barely given a moment to breathe after the assault - he's forced to
leap away again from one bound serpent when it lunges at him. Despite the
cumbersome appearance of his chimeric form, Seiryu is deceptively fast, gliding
through the air as if a fish in water.
He follows with blade in talon, clashing with the shaft of Estinien's lance when
the elezen hurriedly raises the weapon to defend himself. Estinien can only parry
the flurry of practiced blows as he's overwhelmed, eastern magicks meeting the
vestiges of Nidhogg's will with sparks flying from every point of contact. The
force behind each impact makes the elezen grit his teeth. The other's unyielding
tempest reverberates down the length of his lance and shakes Estinien to his core.
Nidhogg snarls at the pitiful display. Rumbling tones echo in his skull and tell
him to fight . Estinien is granted ebony wings for a fraction of a second, soaring
far above only to be effortlessly pursued when Seiryu gives chase.
The dragoon lands once more, this time a further distance away. Decades of training
and survival surface in his mind as he sizes up his fast-approaching foe. Estinien
wills his deafening heartbeat to still so he can think .
Remember a dragon's weak points, Alberic's voice is clear among his frantic
thoughts, A single blow to sever the vertebrae, a cut to rip open the underbelly, a
well-aimed thrust to gouge out an eye-
Estinien waits until Seiryu strikes once more. When the dragon swings his blade, he
pours all his might into jumping above the wyrm - then uses gravity to drive his
lance into his scaled hide. The end sinks into the dragon's shimmering flank, an
ilm away from his maned spine. Estinien viciously twists his lance to further maul
the beast, lifeblood and broken scales clinging to his arm. Flecks of red stain the
pristine robes of the dragon, blossoming on white snow like flowers from the
Vault's garden.
A sharp hiss of pain escapes Seiryu before he rears and bucks the elezen off with a
harsh whip of his tufted tail. Estinien curses, having missed his mark. The other
is slender and near-formless like water itself, twisting elegantly with each
movement unlike the lumbering beasts he was used to slaying. His body is flung onto
the ground with a rather concerning thud, the force of his landing likely leaving
bruised ribs in its wake.
But that had to be enough, didn't it? The wyrm would surely bleed out from the
injury the longer this dance dragged on. If he could just dodge the other's attacks
for a little longer...
...Of course, he has no such luck. When the dragoon lifts his head, he watches in
muted horror as the wound mends itself with magicks. The place his lance tore apart
is now seamless, as if the only thing he had done was further incense the auspice.
Shite.
Seiryu proudly returns to the fray without complaint, prompting Estinien to
scramble to his feet. He is unsure if he'd be able to endure another onslaught of
the wyrm's combination of magicks and honed techniques. Instead, he glances about,
taking stock of any possible route of escape. A tactical retreat, as it were.
Loathe as he is to let a dangerous wyrm out of his grasp, he cannot very well
accomplish the task while dead.
Twin serpents snap at his legs without warning, and Estinien clumsily ducks out of
the way in reflex. One pair of pearlescent fangs manages to sink deep into his
calf, making the dragoon drop to one knee with a half-bitten cry. Warm blood gushes
from the wound when the snake pulls away and pain immediately shoots up his leg. He
sorely regrets shedding Iceheart for a commoner's garb - there is no dragonscale to
soften the blow, nor spines to maim the other in retaliation.
Still, he maintains his distance as best he can. A bead of sweat slides down his
temple with each agonizing movement. He won't die here, he won't- he cannot-
Nidhogg roars, talons digging into his fragile mind. You would succumb to this?
Stand, mortal. Show me thine will is not as weak as the one you surrendered to me
before. The sound is an all-consuming choir like the bells atop Saint Reymanaud's,
ringing loudly to drown out the pain. The residual scales embedded in Estinien's
skin burn like embers from the wyrm's kindling rage. His enemy, his partner - the
fallen villain of the Dragonsong War lends Estinien what meager strength he has
left, hot fire surging through his veins to cleanse his doubt.
Estinien inhales a sharp gasp when the wyrm's gift pervades his senses. Nidhogg is
the eclipse of a black sun, sharpening his waning senses. He feels the phantom of
gnarled horns framing his body, dark wings from his back spanning the expanse of
the sky. He is Nidhogg, of unrivaled lighting and fire and unwavering strength.
Heed this song, for he will not falter again in his duty to protect.
Yet even Nidhogg's intervention could not prepare him for the last of Seiryu's
repertoire. Estinien is suddenly assailed by a veritable blizzard of papery spirits
obscuring his view - he quickly jumps away to avoid being caught in what trickery
they intended to seal him with, but this proves to be his undoing.
He finds Seiryu dancing among them, sleeves billowing gracefully in the wind when
he flees right into the dragon's clutches. His lance is knocked aside with one
bone-shattering swing and a talon closes upon him, trapping him on the ground when
it swats him from the air. Seiryu presses on Estinien with his full weight,
preventing him from escaping and furthering the ache in his ribs.
Estinien breathes a broken wheeze with chest heaving as he spits out a lock of
white hair that had gotten into his mouth. Nidhogg is silent - probably from
secondhand embarrassment, Estinien thinks.
"Your first mistake was treading upon my domain." The dragon reprimands him with
the utmost contempt, indifferent to Estinien's struggling breaths. "You reek of
aramitama. As one of the Four Lords, it is my duty to excise this corruption before
it takes root; I will not suffer another breath drawn from you, wretch."
"Those should be my words," The dragoon retorts with a strained growl from where he
remains pinned. "I'd come to relieve you of your mad hunger for flesh."
Seiryu's gaze narrows, a flicker of sorrow passing through his expression. "The
children of man cling fast to their stories." He murmurs somberly, more to himself
than to Estinien. His composure turns cold again, his blade poised to behead the
elezen. "I have done nothing of the sort. Die knowing your attempt to cast
judgement was in vain."
Seiryu's raised blade extinguishes the sun for an eternal moment, framed by the
gleaming ornament in his hair before he delivers retribution with a single, precise
motion-
"Waaaaiiit!!!"
A panicked wail fills the vicinity as Orn Khai darts out from his place between the
bushes with more speed than Estinien thought possible, the dragonet naught more
than a blur of white hurtling through the air. He stops before the azure dragon's
sword, arms wide as if to shield his charge from the final blow.
"Begone, child!" Seiryu jerkily withdraws his blade with a start. "My quarrel is
not with you."
"I said, wait! We were sent by Furi!" Orn Khai's wings flap frantically as he
squeaks out an explanation. "And Estinien may reek, but he's my friend! He does not
kill people!"
That gives the serpent pause, enough that the crushing weight eases up. Estinien,
in a fit of pique, decides to snatch up the lance that's fallen slightly out of his
grasp and - plunges it into the talon pressing him against the wood.
There's a satisfying spray of red across the ground, causing the dragon to thrash
and recoil. A smug smirk crosses Estinien's face - serves the self-righteous
bastard right -
The concentrated magicks gathered around Seiryu's medium fall upon him all at once,
turning his world to black.
Sleep is always foreign to Estinien. Even before becoming Nidhogg's vessel, being
in contact with the wyrm's eye made any attempt at rest a fitful affair. The echoes
of war were ever-present in the oblivion of unconsciousness, and every dragoon who
beheld the eye was forced to maintain an eternal vigilance lest they be swallowed
by the torrent. After spending years in this tenuous state of unrest - never at
peace - having Nidhogg not haunting him would be the stranger of outcomes.
Nidhogg still taints his sleep, but the dreams are quieter, softer than the deluge
of grief, fury, and centuries of untempered hate. His song has no place here, when
Ratataskor's wings shelter his weary head and her melody soothes his soul. She
gives a playful chirp when she nuzzles him in his nest. Ehsk in an, the gentle
brush of her maw against his says. He lazily flicks his tail in response, fondly
rumbling in response.
Then she is nudging him awake, her dark scales melting into the still of night
until she is nothing, his heart heavy with her silent ghost. In this moment, he
isn't curled into himself in the Aery, lulled to sleep by Ratataskor's voice, the
small bodies of his dragonets resting against his side for warmth-
Estinien slowly wakes to the sound of the ocean, his ears twitching in annoyance.
Nidhogg grumbles in his temples, low in a buzzing dirge as he sits up from his
surprisingly soft bed of grass. Orn Khai is pressed snug against him, taking refuge
in the folds of his coat as he sleeps. The rise and fall of his form with each
breath is far too peaceful for the occasion.
His eyes take a moment to adjust to the shade of the trees above. The last thing he
remembers is fighting the azure dragon of legend, and pathetically receiving a
helping of magicks to the crown. Yet there aren't any injuries when he gives
himself a cursory inspection, and what he can find has been neatly sealed together.
Conjury . But from who...?
"I see you are awake." The unflinching gaze of a large serpent finds him, its
scales verdant and accented by regal gold. The snake is poised upright, carrying
with it a distinct air of dignity. Estinien faintly recognizes the voice as the
same one from before.
"Seiryu," He notes with some level of astonishment. He encountered any number of
talking creatures on his travels, but he cannot recall one that could change forms
so dramatically.
"Your little one has kept me apprised of your circumstances." The dragon-now-snake
says coolly, sparing a glance towards Orn Khai. "He tells me that you are no
ordinary adventurer. That much is evident from the way you fight."
Estinien frowns, brow furrowing. "He is not my child." And Halone help anyone who
would insinuate otherwise. He draws his hand away where it had been hovering over
the dragonet protectively.
"Regardless, your companion has vouched for your integrity. And yet, what concerns
me is the blight upon your soul." Seiryu continues unaffected, watching Estinien
closely. The elezen feels as though he is being wrapped by the other in a vise of
steel. "While you are young, you possess an aramitama most potent. One of
terrifying depth, swirling with eons of lightless hatred."
Estinien raises a brow. He had thought Seiryu attacked him for some lesser reason,
like intruding upon his home. To know the other had seen Nidhogg as a threat makes
him wonder just how much of him was yet comprised of his foe.
A blight, eh? He would almost be inclined to agree, were he younger. The dragoon
was always curious as to how his aether seemed to another, a jumbled mess from
being entwined with the dread wyrm and delivering his final chorus. In time he had
made his peace with it; it comes as little surprise that the serpent would perceive
what remained of him.
"Aye. 'Tis not entirely mine, but it is by my folly I have become like this." He
pauses, and places a hand over his chest to better feel the squirming soul inside
his ribs and between his lungs. "You felt it, didn't you? The grief and fury of my
greatest foe have become my own, and I will bear it as penance for my naivety."
"And if this penance consumes you, mortal? Will you accept judgement?" Seiryu bares
his fangs, a reminder that he is still deadly in this form. It wouldn't take much
for the serpent to lunge from this distance and pierce his flesh once more.
Even so, Estinien's lips twitch into a smile, edging somewhere between bitter and
cocky. "It already has, once before. But I don't intend to make the same mistake
again. 'Twas by my allies' hands I was able to escape the wyrm's hold, and I do not
intend to squander their efforts."
The words seem to placate the serpent after a long moment of contemplation, his
tongue flicking before him. "How like a mortal to be so overly confident." He sighs
with a shake of his head. "Then I will hold you to that. Should you pose a danger
to this realm, know that I will not grant you mercy again."
"Duly noted." Estinien replies, deadpan. Wasn't he supposed to be the one slaying a
man-eating wyrm? "Now that you know the truth about me, I would have the truth of
you."
"Very well; I suppose I should afford you that much." The serpent settles into a
partially coiled position to better regale the dragoon with his tale. "The stories
you have heard are not entirely without root - some men revile me as a bloodthirsty
fiend for dispatching assassins sent my way, while others simply think me to be a
harbinger of disaster."
A note of melancholy enters Seiryu's voice, reminiscent of the same pained look
that passed across his expression during their battle. "Yet the accusations of your
madness are false?" Estinien ventures.
Seiryu nods. "I was too young and powerless to combat these conjectures, despite
not being the source of their woes. I could only watch as those who once worshiped
me turned to fear and hatred. And I even began to think I was meant to be a demon."
Estinien feels a vague sense of nostalgia at the snake's account - he is reminded
of how the stories of his youth painted dragons and how the truth of the Dragonsong
War remained veiled for centuries. Through Nidhogg's sorrow he knew only too well
how men could weave tales for their own gain, and how easily the events of history
became lost. He feels a flicker of kinship with Seiryu, watching him recount the
truth of his past. Enough to soften his initial irritation of being trounced,
anyways.
The look in Seiryu's sharp gaze turns pensive. "Twice have I almost embraced such a
mantle. It was only recently a remarkable warrior from the west came to my domain.
They laid me low and quelled the aramitama festering in my soul, reminding me of my
oath to protect those I hold dear."
A familiar story. "A remarkable warrior? Mayhap we've come across the same blessed
adventurer. I've known them to be one to leave many admirers in the wake of their
miraculous feats." And Estinien can think of no other who would willingly cross
steel with such a ferocious dragon and emerge victorious.
"Then they are the ally that saved you as well?" The serpent brightens slightly at
that. "My duties keep me here to guard the realm, but you have the spirit of a
wanderer. Should you chance upon them, send them my regards."
Estinien cannot deny the prospect of seeing them again makes him livelier as well.
He was eager to fight alongside them again since their last meeting on the Azim
Steppe, wondering how they fared since he came across rumors of Scions succumbing
to the clutches sickness without warning. Coupled with the efforts against
Garlemald, Estinien heard little of their ally's recent escapades, and could only
hope they had not mysteriously taken ill as well.
But there was no point in dwelling on bleak possibilities now. There are more
pressing concerns to address at the end of this excursion.
"...Well, this meeting has certainly been enlightening." Estinien hops to his feet
and picks a stubborn blade of grass out of his hair. He shoots a dirty look at Orn
Khai, who is oblivious to the dragoon's ire as he wakes. "What the people have
thought to be an azure dragon is simply a serpent. And you're not even the right
hue."
Seiryu rears to his full height, then spits, as if offended. "That is no fault of
mine. What wandering minstrels misconstrue in their ridiculous ballads is not my
own doing."
"You're a god, are you not?" Estinien asks, immune to the other's annoyance. "Can't
you conjure up some coin for us? Or a better boat?"
"I hold no such sway over fortune and fate." Seiryu replies primly as Estinien's
ears betray his exasperation. "Come now, don't look so disappointed. I never
claimed to be one of the kami - what divinity I have attained is due to millennia
of training alone."
"Fine, then. Do you have anything to eat?"
"Unfortunately, no one has left offerings here in centuries." Seiryu admits as
sheepishly as a snake can seem. "But you are free to hunt for fish off the shore or
take fruit from the trees."
I did not master the dragoon's jump to strike fear into the hearts of high-hanging
fruit. He recalls saying as much to the Warrior of Light during their trip to
Dravania. His stomach growls, but he won't allow Orn Khai the pleasure of watching
him get stuck in a tree.
So Estinien heaves a great sigh, takes to stripping off his coat, and makes his way
to the sand, reluctantly sinking his lance into the shallows without prelude.
"I can scarcely believe we wasted all this time on a Fury-damned snake." Estinien
mutters, tearing into another chunk of rubbery squid. The Shiokaze Holstery is
outright bustling - too damned loud and disruptive for Estinien's liking - but he
has little choice other than to endure the constant noise and movement. He focuses
on his mouthful of surume to temper his fraying nerves.
"At least we know he will not be eating anyone!" Orn Khai chirps proudly, the
ambient light of the dim lanterns bouncing off his ivory scales. "And he was nice
enough to bear us upon his back and return us to Sakazuki."
"We are out of coin." Estinien replies curtly. That was why they were put on
display like court jesters for customers to ogle at.
Estinien resists the urge to leave with a single jump. He's had enough of tempting
fate for now; it would be best to wait until they accrued enough funds for a trip
back to Coerthas, where he could safely deliver the dragonet back to his brood and
rid himself being Orn Khai's wet nurse.
The dragoon lets the salty taste of squid soothe his ailing soul. Rest, then search
for the cheapest vessel to Eorzea come morning. Two simple tasks to relieve him of
his permanent headache.
Of course, the Fury was never fond of indolence, and has other plans for him. He
can only hope Her next trial isn't as pointlessly taxing.
(Estinien is proven wrong, of course. He always is. He thinks Nidhogg might be
laughing this time, too.)