Pinkgothic played:

Ezadir and Rhea

If she were blessed with a human form, Rhea would be stalking down the main corridor of Nado's cathedral-like main building like a seductress and queen, a recklessly uninhibited air about her, driven by purpose but almost with contempt for the ordeal behind her. 'Take it,' she would say, dropping her precious cargo in deliberately careless gesture at the foot of the one who sent her. 'And never speak of it again.'

Alas, she was no human by any stretch of imagination, and despite possessing exceptional skill when in the air, the Tsawan was as graceful as a walrus while moving on land. It prompted her to fly while the architecture permitted, sunk into the silence of concentration, stubbornly ignoring the strain of exertion in her wings that were so worn from what had effectively been a race back home. When the pathways became too narrow and thus a hazard to her wings, she swept down to the ground and waited.

This was Nado. She could leave the Treasures and Compass here in a pile and then walk with limbs freed of burden to Ezadir's quarters, where he would hopefully be. But she found herself reluctant to leave her loot, as if it were her hoard and she a dragoness, and no one else were entitled to what she had rightfully pillaged.

The glory of her return was thickly wrapped in understatement, and she huddled over the Treasures and battled the urge to feel sick from exertion and emotional stress. It took her a moment to banish a shiver that had escaped her loosening rein on herself, and she closed her eyes, curled against the Treasures as if they were her brood.

Maybe if she allowed herself a moment's rest, she'd find motivation and energy to pull these across to where she was more likely to be noticed. Just a few minutes. Just... a few...

"...Rhea." The voice was warm and familiar and made her aware that she'd fallen asleep. Ezadir crouched before her, arms balanced on his thighs, tone full of wonder, appreciation and pleasant surprise.

"Hi," the Tsawan uttered the greeting, not quite managing to dismiss the physical sense of nausea even given the sudden bout of positive emotion, resulting in a broken tone that was neither here nor there, tickled with misery as much as with joy. Her head didn't bother to lift, simply tilting to allow one eye to better take in head priest of Nado, willing a sceptical part of herself to accept it. She was home. It was over and she was home, back where her true friends were - or at least the ones that no one had thought to ask her to infiltrate on their behalf.

A hand reached out and came to rest against the back of her head, a thumb stroking in cautious and respectful motion across the top of the same.

It was the last confirmation through her senses that she needed, eyes closing again, and a wave of relief washed over her, overwhelming her almost to the point of tears. "I," she began. "I got the Treasures, all they had, but for one; and the Compass. I have the Compass," she said, her words in plaintive disarray.

"Your wing healed," Ezadir leant forward, by proxy tipping from his crouch into a casual kneel, and reached with his free hand forward to stroke along the once-damaged membrane. "And you're alive," he added.

Weakly, the Tsawan nodded, head trapped awkwardly between the tiles and that one hand with its gentle stroke across her fur.

He slid from his kneel into a sit on his heels, withdrawing his hands from her sagged body and letting her move freely. "Do you need rest; do you thirst or hunger; is there anything you need?" he asked, looking at her intently.

...he still wasn't asking about the Treasures or Compass. With the latter simply hanging loosely from her neck and spilt onto the tiles it wasn't surprising that was no focus of conversation, but the Treasures were invisible within the bag and he would want to see them, she was sure of it. But then, Nado would hardly be worth calling 'home' if she were treated with less respect. Stubbornly pushing herself up from the ground, weight shifted into her coiling tail and she steadied herself with her right forepaw, wings half-folded behind her. Her left hand scooped in behind the bag of Treasures and pushed it across at him. "I need you to look at these," she said, her tiredness making it obvious that there were plenty other things she'd rather be doing, but also that it was her own choice not to pursue them.

Ezadir let his gaze drop to the bag. Courteousness was one thing, and he might feel it awkward not to see to her needs first even if it was her that chose to forgo those supposed luxuries, but it was still the result of weeks of uncertain work. With hesitance, he tugged the bag that slight bit closer and began to fumble slowly with the fabric, his gaze dragging back up to Rhea's avian face. "We weren't sure if we'd see you again," he remarked, voice soft, but didn't linger too long as he noticed she didn't want to speak about herself. "How many?" he asked, instead, pressing his lips to a thin line even as one hand fished out the first Treasure and set it down quietly on the tiles, gaze flitting to and fro between the Tsawan and her prize.

"Eight Treasures of Rule in the bag," she informed, gesturing with one paw. "I... - I left one with them, it will be useless for them, but it should let us track them if you wish to ensure that they will not complete their quest through Kunda's guidance."

Ezadir's gaze dropped to focus on the Treasures withdrawn from the bag, one by one, and moistened his dry lips with the brief flick of his tongue. "Good thinking," he said, words as if carefully chosen, as if he were far too busy to be concerned for her to fully take in the ramifications of her plan.

"I left a friend behind with them," she continued. "They are not on good terms with him but that stems from history, it is not recent. I do not think they will suspect him on our side." A pause. "I believe we should find a way to free him from their tyranny. They are not usually tyrannical, they have treated me well, but there is something about this man I befriended that makes them hostile toward him. They treat him deplorably, as if he had wings and they were Merian slave drivers, except they do not even put him to any use he could take pride in. So I have given him something to take pride in. He is hiding the Treasure. They will thus not immediately know a Treasure remains onboard; there is a good chance they may never find out." She felt her blood boil with a fresh rage, but was too drained to express it properly. Lenny; Leonard; whatever his name, from her perspective he was a set of shackles removed from the worst stories of causeless humiliation and disrespect that she'd heard. It was not enough to banish her tiredness, however, and it was still apparent as she looked at Ezadir as if for guidance.

"I'll admit I do not enjoy the idea of crossing paths with Azur's band of misfits again," Ezadir explained slowly, cautiously picking each word, weighing it in his mind against whatever inner thesaurus he possessed to take the edge off his voiced line of reasoning. "But if we are realistic, I suspect they will seek us out anyway, my dear Rhea, so perhaps we should help your friend," Ezadir nodded slowly, letting himself come to terms with his own suggestion while smiling warmly and sincerely at the Tsawan.

Another nod travelled as a motion through Rhea's body. "The Compass will guide us as long as they keep their Treasure..." - with some effort one limb reached up to tug the Compass from her neck, careful not to snap the loop that held it, and offered it to Ezadir, who reached to take it in silent gesture - "...and they will keep it, I believe, for even if they realise they have it and we are tracking them with it, leaving it somewhere would only mean it is no longer guarded by them." Her body protested, trying to convince her with a burning ache that the conversation should be kept short, and proper sleep should be had, but she refused to even acknowledge the plea.

Ezadir nodded again, almost automatically. It was well thought through, but perhaps too much. He would have been perfectly content simply having all nine Treasures that the questers had found so far and then sinking the bundle and the Compass somewhere into the depths of Mer where no one would deign to find them. "What else is there of note?" he asked, voice still soft, gaze anchoring itself back on Rhea's face after having wandered off into a contemplative distance not long prior. He could push her to rest, or he could do her the favour of listening until she had no strength to speak anymore - he knew her well enough to know how deeply that ran.

"The Guardian is dead," Rhea informed. "Firfrey," she elaborated, as if the name meant much to Ezadir. "She slept with the Compass on most days, often with Azur by her side. When I escaped, she was by herself, and I killed her and took the Compass, then fled with the Treasures."

"The Guardian?" Ezadir echoed the term, curious.

"She was their link to the legend. She was the one who brought the Compass to Azur. It was her quest more than it was Azur's," Rhea explained. A bout of dizziness gripped her skull, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment of steadying herself. "There is one more thing," she added, before Ezadir could question further along the more mundane train of thought.

"What is it?"

"Two of the Treasures... - two of the Treasures we found under water," Rhea stammered.

For a moment, Ezadir simply remained sat on his heels in quiet stupor. "...but, Rael?"

A soft, single syllable of a breathy chuckle spilt from Rhea, and with the happiness of knowing her most precious information was being parsed, she spoke once more: "Remember, Ezadir, the old myths say nothing of the destruction of Dark Water. The old myths speak only of control."