dragons & politics

In the same way that he had underestimated her savagery, she had underestimated him entirely. Whether he was a fisherman as he claimed, or part of the Thieve’s Guild as she suspected, she hadn’t expected him to hold his own. She had expected to bite his muzzle, shove him in his place, and feel better about the day. Instead what she got was a more-intense-than-expected brawl where he was swift and cunning, and not only did he hold his own -- he-- he bested her. Just as he locked onto her again, her leg gave way, much to her disbelief and ire. The pain sent electricity dancing through her body, and the fury and shame sent ripples of fire through each tendon. Her lips parted and she bared her fangs as she prepared for the moment where he would roll her to her back, stand over her in dominance-- and then -- “Don’t fucking bite me,” The man had flopped down beside her. Had released her. Cairo’s fangs were still bared, though it seemed to be reflexive and left-over from the fight -- for she stared at the fisherman with surprise and confusion. Why hadn’t he finished it? Why hadn’t he claimed his victory when it had been right in his paws? Was it mercy? Pity? As a member of the Army, Cairo was not accustomed to either of those things -- not from her higher ups, and certainly not from enemies. “Just give me a second.” he said and winced, moving his jaw as if testing if it still worked properly. The timber girl’s lips fell back over her fangs and she blinked, as if awakening to the situation. She was panting still, though her breaths were slowly evening out -- and with the adrenaline leaving her body, the pain of everything was beginning to set in. That, and a calmness she often felt after a fight. Wearily, she let her body slide forward to a lying position, limbs too tired to keep her sitting any longer. She wanted to ask what he meant by not pinning her, but the words clung in her throat -- that would admit that she had, in fact, lost. Yellow eyes flicked to her bloodied paws, and then around at the beach. She saw the abandoned berries. “Don’t suppose you’re still willing to share?” she said with a vague wince as she motioned toward the branch. It was perhaps a poor attempt at humor, or maybe even a rare show of gratefulness that he had not shoved her nose in her loss. Yes, she would now eat his berries. In case he didn't buy her humor and attempted 'apology' of sorts, she added: "You'd make a hell of a soldier,"

ART ➤Lightningspam

The soft scrape of fur against stone caused a dark blue ear to flick yet the sea-glass eyes did not follow. If she took this opportunity to clamber onto his back and dig her teeth into his scruff, he'd take the pin peacefully enough. Wasn't that the nature of the Imperial Army? To wait until the white flag was waived and press their knives into the rebels' backs when they were lulled into a false sense of security? Were they not natural betrayers? It was on a beach like this where his father had been attacked. Although they'd never found the body, Caspian hadn't needed it to proclaim Cailan dead.

To his surprise, she didn't bite him.

She stretched out onto her belly and, for a moment, they looked like too friends laying side by side.

“Don’t suppose you’re still willing to share?”

Caspian couldn't help but snort, a smile cracking over his features. The snort turned into a chuckle, one that was warm despite the pain in his throat. This time, he did glance at her. "Now, what are your intentions? Trying to drink with a lowly fisherman of Aberdeen?" Caspian teased as he stretched forward. His toes brushed the stem and carefully dragged it back. One berry was lost and some dipped into the tide pools, but a little salt never hurt anyone.

Nonetheless, the invitation was there if she wanted one.

At her final comment though, Caspian snorted again... but with less humor. It was a sore spot... one more pained than he cared to admit. "Not for a king that profited off of a woman's divorce," He leaned forward and captured a berry betwixt his teeth and swallowed, grimacing as the alcohol stung his bitten and bloodied tongue. "Or the parliament that helped betray her."

manip: bean + code: clae

@Cairo

forged in fire and steel Her question pulled a snort and then a chuckle from the man’s lips, and she couldn’t help but offer a weak smile back. It was a shame that Cairo didn’t understand all interactions could be like this, no fight necessary. Alas, she was a creature of habit and it seemed she had to let her fires blaze before they were allowed to quell. “Now, what are your intentions? Trying to drink with a lowly fisherman of Aberdeen?” he countered and turned those seascape eyes upon her. She let out her own ironic snort, watching as he pulled the stem closer to their reach. “Have to get to know the citizens,” Cairo replied back, eyes still following the branch. She blinked at it and looked hesitant for a moment before reaching down and grabbing one of the wayward berries that had fallen from the stem. She rolled it on her tongue before capturing it between her sharp fangs and added a slow pressure until-- gush! A surprising amount of liquid was contained within the berry and it ran over her tongue and down her throat. She lapped it up and even with just one berry, she could feel the warmth begin to spread. Cairo rarely partook in the fermented elixirs, but there was never a better time than after being injured. Another snort in response to her words, though this one did not crack a grin on the fisherman’s face. “Not for a king that profited off a woman’s divorce,” It was her turn to send him a glance, staring at him from the side of her eye. So she’d been right. If he wasn’t a Highlander, he was at the very least a Jacobite-- and they were nearly one in the same for her. “or the parliament that helped betray her.” Cairo could feel her pelt beginning to bristle at the words-- she felt indignant at them, as if he was insulting her instead of her king, instead of her government. But she took a breath in and forced her speckled pelt flat-- not to mention, the pain was still pulsing through her body. The tenser she got, the more it hurt. “So you are a Highlander.” she commented, and she took another berry herself, for she certainly needed it now. She was having a plain conversation with the enemy. It was a peculiar situation to find herself in… but… an interesting one. After all, her soon-to-be stepfather was of Highlandic origins (at least partly). And it seemed that her dear grandmother held no ire toward them, nor did she seem to hold any scorn for their sympathies with the wild and untethered Aileen and son. But Cairo thought of the rough war, of the blood and the gore and the death, she thought of her father slain, her missing brother, Sif’s eye-- there had been so much lost, and nothing gained. All because a Queen couldn't just deal with being married to a man she didn’t want anymore. Because she couldn’t see the benefit beyond herself. Selfish, her mind spat furiously, and a reflection of her thoughts perhaps showed within the glow of her eyes. “Who did the betrayal first?” Cairo countered, and attempted to keep her voice level. To keep it a conversation, instead of a yelling match. “She knew what was expected of her, she knew the terms when she was betrothed, and her duties that came with it. Did she expect to change the rules because she suddenly didn’t like the game? The game that she agreed play?” It was preposterous; Queen Aileen knew perfectly well what she was doing. “She put the chains on, and got the advantages in return. Shed the shackles, you shed the benefits.” Cairo understood this of politics-- just like Nassar did. The rules were not favorable, but it was the way of the world. To fight it would cause so much more misery and mayhem, and end with nothing good. It was the difference between her family and Aileen; they understood the game far better than House Stuart. “Look what her simple desire of not being married anymore caused.” she added bitterly, staring roughly down at her paws as the movie of her father’s bloodied body flashed behind her eyes. "If she had just--" the fire had entered her tones, and she cut herself off. If she had just sucked it the fuck up , there would never have been any war at all. Kohl and Ahkoris would be around, her mother would not be forced to marry another man, and Ankh would not be playing these cruel games with her favorite grandchild. All would have remained as it was, and Cairo could have remained blissfully unaware.

Although they barely touched, the tips of their fur scraping one another only when movement forced blue and black to intermingle, he could feel the tension as he spoke. It was almost welcome, oddly enough. She was a soldier—ahem, a captain of the Imperial Army—and had no doubt been spoon fed King Adamh's narrative. The less time they dallied as friends and the faster they got into the thick of politics, the sooner he'd feel some semblance of comfort in her presence. At least then he'd know where they stood—just as he did physically. More or less equally matched, two dragons boasting the wounds of having tangled with one another. "Aww, you know geography," Caspian teased, rolling another berry toward himself. It was but the calm before the storm.

“Who did the betrayal first?” The wyvern questioned, her golden eyes blazing with righteous light. It was a wonder she wasn't yelling into his ear—perhaps she was restraining herself?

Her reasoning, however, only harkened back to the start of their conversation. To him, it all sounded foolish, like a neat little package that parliament had shipped to the army and forced them all to swallow. "If she had just—" "Sucked it up?" Caspian questioned, filling in the blanks with what he could only assume she wanted to say.

He snapped up the berry that had idled before him, hoping that the wine would make his guise of ease become more real. In truth, he too was staving off tension, resisting the urge to bring the brawl back despite the subtle headache in his temples and the pain in his jaw. And the blood on his tongue. Every word hurt and yet he forced them out. "If it was a game, why sell the happy family? Why make it a marriage?" Caspian snorted again. "Why not have the divorcés rule, separate but equal?" He flicked another berry toward her.

"It was a ploy to get with the parliament wanted, love. And we're just the chess pieces they knock over when it suits them."

manip: bean + code: clae

@Cairo

forged in fire and steel She felt it too. They rested next to one another — peaceful enough now — but the electricity that danced between the static in the air was impossible to miss. Almost tangible. And yet, they shared berries, and they shared words. It was a wonder— a Mainlander and a Highlander, fire dragon and sea dragon— mingling. After fighting, of course. “Aww, you know geography,” he crooned jokingly. She scoffed and made a face in his direction. “You know what I meant,” she grumbled, taking another berry for herself, mirroring his motions. She was already in it, might as well take the fragrant berries he so generously offered. But she left it at her paws, like he did. “Sucked it up?” he finished for her, and her lips pursed — for she was certain that, though he could guess her thoughts, he did not agree with her; though she couldn’t see how he couldn’t. It was then that he gathered the berry between his teeth and drank it down, perhaps preparing for his own turn. She watched him, and waited for his counter. “If it was a game, why sell the happy family? Why make it a marriage?” the man snorted, as if he couldn’t believe that marriage and family could be pawns and knights. She thought of her mother. “Why not have the divorces rule, separate but equal?” he questioned, and she did try to ponder it, truly. But Aileen never had any claim to any sort of power -- without her marriage to a King, she was just another Highlander. And the Highlands didn’t rule here-- the Mainlands did. That was why. Her eyes followed the berry that he flicked her way; she now had two at her paws. Too many-- she swiped one up with her tongue, allowing it’s warming juices to slip down her throat. “It was a ploy to get what the parliament wanted, love.” The word ‘love, so demeaning, caused her ears to flick and her eyes to sharpen as she look up at him, “And we’re just the chess pieces they knock over when it suits them.” She let out a scoff, derision at the fact that he used a cute little pet name one her. Love, she thought bitterly. Did he think her a stupid little lamb, a mindless solider? “Why would parliament want war?” she asked. “They wanted peace, which is why a marriage even happened. A peace contract that she broke.” she muttered. It was an attempt to quell the wild Highlands -- all for naught. “Why would your Queen not stay married to stay in power, and change things from within where she can? She chose this war, she forced this war -- and now who knows how many are dead and our country is barely holding together. Because of her whims. She broke the rules and we all suffered for it. ” It seemed so logical, and for a haunting, alarming moment, she suddenly understood Ankh's point of view -- more than her mother's. The realization and alarm flashed over her face briefly before she shoved the thoughts down. The girl let out an audible huff, pressing forward relentlessly. “Why sell the happy family? The happy family is the game.” She said, and it was a realization as much as a statement. Her family was no different. Ankh was no different. Their matriarch moving them strategically, like parliament moving the queen and king strategically. It was all a game, all a show, and it had rules -- why didn’t he understand? “Marriage, pups, happiness — it’s all part of the cogs. Marriage is something people understand. Without the marriage, there was nothing left to officially unite the Mainlands and Highlands. It’s true-- we’re all part of it. But if someone breaks free, it topples down in bodies instead of rubble.” She agreed grimly. There was no escaping it, unless perhaps one ran off to the Lowlands. But then you’d be… nothing. If given the choice (which she did not have) between a carefree nobody in the Lowlands or a somebody with the weight of the world on her shoulders in the Mainland, she would choose the latter. Every time.

Topaz eyes sharpened on his face, singing the silvery fur that delicately painted his cheeks. Despite himself, his smile widened slightly. If he was an ocean, then she was the hot, molten magma deep within the earth's crust. They had already fought one another and left the water boiling—and now that he had adjusted to it, he almost liked the sparks. Oh, they were aggravating too and yet he couldn't help prodding her if only to see just how many would fly. And she always obliged. She saw him rattling the cage, likely knew why, and bit anyway because perhaps just once she'd catch his hands in her jaws.

And that would make all of this cat and mouse worth it.

Caspian couldn't conceal his shock and distaste when the soldier asserted that the parliament wanted peace of all things. Peace! It was almost childish to think such a thing, and to not entertain why the opposite would be more likely! Rionnach had only ever been as peaceful as a volcano waiting to blow, just building in pressure over time. His Queen took the fall but he would never blame her.

Just as he would never view marriage like a game.

"That's what they teach you marriage is in the Mainlands?" Caspian asked, turning his head so that he could stare into those yellow eyes. "Cogs like in the rusted doors and gates?" He laughed, albeit it was more of a bitter thing. "Must explain why you're so stiff." And, risking his paw, he reached out and poked hers.

"Where I'm from, marriage is like..." He paused, mulling it over. "Like fire."

And here his tail flicked to brush by hers. "Warm enough to burn, tense enough to snap—" Fate permitting, he'd lean in closer, as if to brush his muzzle against hers, green eyes never leaving the gold. Mere moments before they touched (if she hadn't already bit him back to his side), he'd lower his head to scoop up the berry she had neglected before retreating.

Not that it was much of a retreat when they were so close. "And when it's gone, nothing's left but ashes."

manip: bean + code: clae

@Cairo

forged in fire and steel “That’s what they teach you marriage is in the Mainlands?” he wondered, turning to fully look at her. That’s what he took from her whole tyraid? Sure he showed disbelief and perhaps indignation, but this was what he chose to comment on? What seemed to disturbhim the most— the fact that she viewed marriage as — “Cogs like in the rusted doors and gates?” He laughed then, and she was beginning to learn his laugh was a complicated thing. So many instances where he laughed when nothing at all was funny. Her lips pursed and she frowned. “Must explain why you’re so stiff.” She’d looked away to roll her eyes, and almost jumped when he poked her paw. She blinked down at it and glanced up at him, and for some bizarre reason she couldn’t help but smile at his bold playfulness. He was insulting the dragon, poking the dragon— and somehow making her smile. “It’s because I have to deal with civilians like you,” she grumbled, though somewhat goodnaturedly “Where I’m from, marriage is like…” he couldn’t seem to find the words to describe it, and that intrigued her. It pulled her ears forward with interest in spite of herself. “Like fire.” . Like fire? She felt the air movement between their tails as if it were a rush of wind, the static back to dance between their furs — though it caused a different sensation, and her own tail twitched just briefly as she noticed. “Warm enough to burn, tense enough to snap— “ He moved closer, and whatever electricity that had danced between their tails a moment before she suddenly felt against her muzzle; static and loud and unignorable. It made her tense, and somehow, miraculously, it made her remain still; as if caught in underwater green headlamps, leaving her unsure if she should move or attack or flee — and thus motionless in the unknowing. He swiped her berry away from her, breaking her free. She blinked, confused, as her brows furrowed and she watched him eat the berry. “And when it’s gone, nothing’s left but ashes.” . He said. The timber girl shifted in her spot, wincing as pain was renewed— though she ignored it. It felt like her momentarily frozen mind suddenly thawed, and the thoughts tumbled down, down, down. Was this what her mother had felt with Kohl? Is that was the fisherman was talking about— the fire? The— the ash? Her eyes fell thoughtfully. She wondered if the fire was worth the cold, colorless ash. Was that the fate of all marriages in the Highlands? No, all marriages borne from fire? “Are you married?” She asked.

It was a wonder that his ear was still intact, that the wounds upon his body were only twenty minutes old and not freshly welling with blood. For a woman who despised civilians like him, she had granted him closeness—closeness that was new, if he was to place any bets. Not a spar or a brawl on the beach, something Caspian wagered she'd experienced countless times, but the tantalizing tension of fire. When she felt the flames, she did not push him back and seek the cool shade of a patch of sand yards away. No, she leaned in, as if goading him to find just how much heat it'd take to see her burn.

And when he leaned away, wincing from the alcohol as it stung his split tongue for the third time that day, he noticed something new.

The dragon looked thoughtful. For the first time that day, his words did not seem to enter one ear before bouncing back at him with a sharpened edge and a royalist slant. In that moment, he found himself being sucked in just as she had been a moment before. A dark ear curved toward her whilst green eyes snuck a glance at her pensive features.

He was so invested in her insights that he couldn't help but cough at her sudden, most unexpected question. "Are you married?"

The cough turned into bemused laughter, and then something genuine. "Why?" He asked, leaning in again. "Want to play that game with me?"

It would be her choice if she wanted to touch him—or if she wanted to push him away.

manip: bean + code: clae

@Cairo