Thread: Once, We Touched The Clouds (Ghost_kitty & Erit of Eastcris)

Vocalizations escaped the old sage as he poured over his notes, Yes, yes this and Hrm, mh that for nearly an hour, accompanied only by frantic scratchings of pen to paper as Winston hastily jotted down his translation. Autrin simply kept his eye on the hatchling, not trusting it to stay as statuesque as it was the entire time. Inevitably, though, the scholar belted out a satisfied Ah-ha! and set his pen down with a sharp click, sanding the ink to blot it before pulling the page from his desk. I've finished, Autrin, and I must say that what you've recovered is absolutely unprecedented. The relic hunter looked at his associate askance, uncertain if his old friend was jesting or if his little... pet... was as unique as first impressions would imply. Don't look at me like that, Winston chided, I'm being perfectly serious! This tablet, it is indeed the last words of a Dekieri priest. A high priest, the Archbishop himself in fact. The words danced meaninglessly through Autrin's mind, the hierarchies of a dead empire's church lost to him. According to this, your scaly friend there is named 'Scala', or 'The Blaze of Dawn'. Andthis is the interesting part she is supposedly the last of the Dekieri's old gods. The researcher's wizened old face lit up like a child in a sweets shop, Something that we call a Dragon! Just think, Autrin you have a creature long thought to be extinct perched on your arm, a living sample for study! More meaningless drivel to him Autrin wasn't exactly a learned man. He could read and write and perform arithmetic, sure, but life with his nose in a book never really appealed. He wanted the thrill of the unknown, to wander into sights unseen and challenge the unexplored. These events, though, were something different this was a mystery that ate at him in an entirely different way. You mean to tell me, he said after digesting the information for a time, that this little thing is one of the old gods? He gestured to the creature, to the Dragon named Scala, for emphasis. I've seen rats bigger than this infesting those ruins, Winston. You must be joking. Winston simply shook his head in response, That's just because she's a newborn, Autrin. She'll be the size of a horse in a few months, and the size of this academy in a few years. The Dekieri worshipped the Dragons for their size, majesty and unfathomable power. Show some respect. Rather than showing respect, Autrin simply picked up the Dragon hatchling and peered into its eyes. Size of a horse, huh? Suppose you'll be pretty hard to hide soon, won't you... Scala? The heat returned to his palm again. This time, rather than a searing agony, it was... more a calming warmth, like sunlight on a summer afternoon. It was accompanied by an odd tingling that slowly worked its way up the treasure hunter's arm, and just when he was growing concerned that he'd been poisoned, it stopped. His eyes wide, Autrin held the Dragon in one hand to look at his other one, finding a small patch of scales on his palm, the same hue as the hatchling he held. Peering at Scala's flank revealed they hadn't simply molted off, and no amount of scrubbing would remove them. It was as if they had grown from his own flesh. I don't suppose, he said, showing the oddity to his friend, that you know anything about this? I... Why, I'm afraid I don't. Winston stared, mildly flabbergasted. But if I had to hazard a guess... it bears a similarity to what the Dekieri describe as 'the highest of blessings'. It seems she's chosen you, Autrin, though for what I cannot say. The spelunker arched an eyebrow, stroking the Dragon's head with a fingertip as he tried once more to speak to it. Well, he said simply, shame you can't talk. Just what is it you want?