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[tohaveandtohoard]

A dragon post for dragons.

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[dominutive]

[Things went differently, for Tree Tree and Fray Esteem ...Tree. Just herself. No matter the might-have-beens, it was too late. The things she'd done, and hidden from, came to light, and the words of the Coerthans could only reach so far. She is still herself, and herself alone. Fray didn't leave her, but she hasn't called upon her either, reaching a hollow medium of abandoning ship, just as Fray wanted. They could be together at any time, they could trade places, but for now Tree still wants to have the reigns, and keep her darkness at bay rather than let it consume her. Still, she travels far from Eorzea, to a distant land in the opposite direction of Doma. Out of reach of even the Garlean Empire. She breezes through the occasional village, dressed simply, armor and features hidden by a truly ratty cloak. Au Ra are rare enough in Eorzea. She doesn't want to be followed on account of being exotic. Though she can't do much about her eyes, glow cutting sharp through the dim shadow of her hood, they make her intimidating enough that her size doesn't paint a target on her back. Bandits only come after her once per region, and none try again. She avoids populated areas for the most part, simply stopping by pubs once in a while to get a feel for what threats lie in the wilds. It's better to be prepared, than to stumble upon some beast's lair. Despite her efforts, though, that's exactly what she does, venturing deep into the territory of the Bane of the Northern Mountains, letting her footsteps take on the sort of trudging exhaustion she'd been masking for fear of showing vulnerability to people.]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ unfortunately for her, he keeps a close eye on his domain— and one of the advantages that comes with age is being able to do so without needing to do the looking in person. the sudden snapping of a magic "tripwire" lets him know of humanoid movement through the forest, and once alerted it's simple enough to scry on her through whatever reflective surface has the clearest view— water drops and the eyes of smaller woodland beasts, mostly, since her armor is covered.

what he sees is almost— almost enough to rouse sympathy. she's clearly not there for his blood or his hoard... but he's a dragon, not an inn-keeper. if she's foolish enough to all but come wandering in his front door, then she deserves the consequences of that.

he waits patiently until she's made camp and fully settled at the mouth of one of the caves connected to the hollowed out tunnels and halls of his lair, and only then does he chuff once, twice, and exhale with an enormous creaking rumble: easily loud enough to trigger a cave-in or two in the more unstable exits, even if it didn't sound like the beginnings of a landslide all on its own.

...maybe if he's lucky that warning will be enough, and he won't even have to get out of bed. ]

[dominutive]

[She had chosen a very stable exit, mostly for peace of mind... which it seems she won't be getting. The thunderous sound has her on her feet immediately, the cloak disappearing in a flash of... magic? It genuinely disappears, and under it is a small woman in full armor, complete with the sword taller than her, which couldn't have possibly fitted under that cloak. She's not brandishing it, yet, doesn't even have a hand on the hilt of a weapon which clearly would take both hands to wield. She's on the defensive, but not running, instead peering into the gloom of the cave. That hadn't been close enough a sound to be a beast about to strike at her, so there is at least a little time before she need draw her sword... if the Bane of the Northern Mountains can't be reasoned with. Still, she doesn't quite have the words right now. Nothing she can say sounds reasonable right now. So she waits, watching the gloom, waiting for his next move.]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ ...perhaps that had been too much to hope. still, that that sword has remained sheathed is promising...

he's not going to shout down the tunnels like an uncivilized beast, though. warning rumbles are one thing; discourse another. the acoustics of his home are familiar enough that setting another spell to bend them takes hardly any thought at all; the soft, deep voice that breaks the ringing silence sounds as though it could be coming from right behind her. ]

You are trespassing, traveler.

[dominutive]

[Tree whirls abruptly at the voice behind her, surely he couldn't have-- But he's not there, and so the hand that twitched towards the hilt of her sword drops again. She puts her back safely to a cave wall.] I see. I did not realize this cave system was inhabited by someone with reason. My apologies.

[tohaveandtohoard]

That you failed to gather information about the land you were journeying through is no concern of mine, and a poor excuse besides.

[dominutive]

I do believe I've heard of you... Still, I was careless. I'm sure this isn't a good time, or way to do this, but... I'm tired. May I stay the night?

[pathing]

[This is a post for dragons, right? Here's what happens. The war is over. Sieg and Astolfo don't win, but they survive the final battle. Astolfo gets it into their head that they're going to save Sieg again, rescue him from the world of mages that looms, threatens to swallow him for existing in the wake of that war. So they take advantage of Sieg's massive prana reserves and Astolfo's Independent Action trait to use their noble phantasm while Sieg is unconscious, recovering from his battle and last stand as Siegfried. They ride the hippogriff as far as those resources will take them, and in the end Sieg is only just waking as both his Servant and their mount fade away. Here's what Bane can tell from his lair. A mass of densely packed magic streaks into his territory, swiftly dissipating as it goes, until what was three presences, two of them far more magical than the third, fades down to one. That one isn't moving.] Rider...?

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ no response, obviously— but there is a distant, earth-shaking noise, like a particularly rocky landslide ]

[pathing]

[He has enough awareness and experience to take that noise with the appropriate amount of concern. Or, well, if not the appropriate amount, he is at least hauling himself upright and taking stock of the situation, and his own condition. He's mostly fine, if worn. The only injury recent enough to still be showing is that he's skinned in places, the hippogriff's best attempts at a gentle landing even as it disappeared still showing their mark. His sword stays firmly strapped to his side, awkwardly even, given how he's sitting. His command seals are gone, but for the scorched marks the use of them left on his body, threats of a fate that never quite came to pass. ...Rider is gone, too. That was to be expected. Whatever he may have wished, Rider wouldn't ever be able to stay outside the realm of the war. It hurts regardless, but he puts that aside for now to deal with the current situation. Something large enough to shake the earth has noticed him, or at least the commotion his arrival must have made. He shoves himself into a (worn) standing position, eyes trained on the direction of the noise.]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ ...

there are no further noises. ]

[pathing]

[... He doesn't trust it, casts around again quickly, looking to find something secure to put his back to. Maybe it wouldn't be best to trap himself, but... He has no escapes anyway. Not anymore.]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ he's in a thickly wooded area— lots of trees he could put at his back, but that's not necessarily what he might consider secure. visibility isn't great, either. ]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ as nice as the continued quiet of Bane's lands might be, all good things must come to an end.

by which I mean regardless of where Tree Tree is or what she's up to at the moment, there's another one of those rocky-sounding rumbles and then Bane's voice ]

'Ware, traveler. If you continue that way you may find yourself with company.

[dominutive]

[um she was just taking the time to repair some of her gear, but she pauses in her work.] What manner of company?

[tohaveandtohoard]

The kind to seek an audience with a dragon. You would likely find them tiresome.

[dominutive]

[...why is it always like this? she stands, the tools of her trade and crafter's clothing disappearing in an instant, only to be replaced with her armor and greatsword. and a moment later, her hooded cloak which does a poorer job of hiding her horns and tail than one might expect.] I see. Thank you for the warning.

[tohaveandtohoard]

You did make your preferences clear.

[dominutive]

Nonetheless, I appreciate it. Which direction are they coming from?

[dominutive]

[Tree has found herself lingering perhaps longer than is really... seemly for a guest. She doesn't exactly mean to, but each day she considers heading out of his territory and each day she finds another excuse not to. At first it's because she's curious about him, then because she's comfortable here, then myriad small reasons like working out how to stop offering to do things for him at every opportunity. It's the only way she knows how to be, but it's also something she hates, and that he refuses to take advantage of it really warms her heart, every time. Then one afternoon she coughs and finds a petal in her palm. More the next. Slowly but surely building up, but at least she's being discrete about it. No amount of Esuna or Warden's Paean seems to be clearing up the ailment, but frankly she's had much, much worse, so she doesn't put much thought into it. She can function, so she can carry on. There's a chance it's more awkward for Bane, though. She's careful to be subtle, to keep her body in check when she's speaking with him, but she has no way of knowing if she's being scryed, and her scent gets more and more floral as time passes, when before it was mostly magic and blood and chocobo (honestly gross, to be honest, but it faded with time.)]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ despite the tone of their initial encounter, Bane hasn't made any further effort to see her out of his lands. having been allowed deeper into his lair once seems to have cleared her for future visits, too; any ventures into the individual "exhibits" of his hoard are tolerated with often nothing more than the steady gaze of one lazily half-slitted eye to follow her progress.

(at about the same time, the tone of his refusals to her quietly change. not that they become any less steadfast or occasionally pointed, no— but they lose the edge of arrogance, and the subtle (and not so subtle) implications that she couldn't possibly give him anything that he would be satisfied with.)

it's a quieter life than the one she'd had, but since she had come looking for quiet that may not be such a bad thing. and it turns out that in the heart of the mountain, at least, it isn't uncommon for him to take on that humanoid shape to interact with his collection in some way. it seems like the adventurers from before weren't entirely off the mark, when they had spoken of obsessive hoarding... but that's about the only place they got anything right. he's almost always checking it over, yes— but there's very little of blind greed to it and everything of painstaking diligence and enjoyment. he practices with the weapons, and makes sure both they and the armor are in good shape; he makes sure that the sculptures and other art haven't collected dust or soot; he goes through the library looking for anything that might damage the contents, or occasionally just picking something out to bring back to the huge spill of gems and coins to pore over with digits better suited to page-turning than his scythe-like talons.

and she, having been allowed in, is tacitly invited to share the same enjoyment— whether she understands the invitation or not.

today, though, he's just reading— specifically because he had noticed the occasional cough while he'd been watching from a distance and that change in Tree's scent, and the two combined had stirred something in his memory that so far has proved too stubborn to slip back into full recollection on its own. so— he's researching, the dragging feathers of his tail swishing idly behind him as he pages through the first tome in a stack taller than he is.

(partially because he's sitting on the floor, even if it is with all the dignity you would more expect to see from someone sitting on a throne.) ]

[dominutive]

[she has in fact slowly picked up on that invitation, and though she treads lightly with his things, preferring to spend her time crafting (both from the disassembled parts of her own gear and various findings she gathers from his territory), today she does select one of the books from his library and settle nearby him, turning pages with care.]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ he ruffles and resettles his wings in response, though he doesn't look up from his own book at all. after a moment he flips his tail so that the trailing plumage is draped away from her, and only then lets it resume its slow swish.

...not long after that, though, the repetitive movement slows, and then stops entirely.

not long after that, he shuts the book just shy of too firmly, sets it down, and starts sorting through the pile for another ]

[dominutive]

[his body language definitely warrants a curious look, but she's got a tickle in her throat that makes her hesitant to speak or aggravate it in any way, so instead she merely eyes him sidelong]

[tohaveandtohoard]

[ he doesn't even give her that minor acknowledge her this time. his human body language and facial expression both stay calm enough as he starts flipping through his new pick, but his feathers all remain sleeked back and his tail doesn't so much as twitch. ]