Welcome to the Present [Sarkany/Atol]

[Sharei]

If he'd been healthier Atol had no doubt that the shove would have landed him on his ass. Instead, all that happened was that the boy shifted slightly, leaning his weight to the side to counterbalance the push.

[ Good thing- ]

Atol's hand rose to Sarkany's snout. It almost looked as if he might touch that pointed nose, but at the last moment, the magus made a bursting gesture with his fingers. A sudden cone of room temperature water droplets shot out at Sarkany's face, spraying the tiercel from nose to crests.

[ -That I actually do prefer your tiercel form. ]

[MP]

Nictitating membranes winked up against the spray of water. Sarkany pulled his muzzle back, turned his head away, said nothing. Then he shook himself, showering the mage with his own conjured water. Smooth hide didn't catch the droplets well, but human skin and hair definitely did. Most of the water had ended up back in Atol's face.

[ How unwise of you, ] Sarkany said with another animal grin. [ I'll cure you of that soon enough. ]

His puffed breath blew several droplets from Atol's hair.

[ But since I've changed, you're stuck with it for now. ]

He turned, not so much stepping as drifting uphill. It was like watching a creature push along a river bed, a flowing trot that barely touched ground. His tail brushed Atol's heels, ushering him along.

[ Come on, you smell like you can go on. We haven't far to go. ]

[Sharei]

Wiping his face of water, Atol flicked his hands to shed the droplets with a quiet oath and jogged up the trail to catch up.

"Yeah, well, I do," he muttered, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "You're always happier like this," he added, waving a hand. "More yourself."

[MP]

[ Myself? ]

The tiercel's tail curled behind them, guarding Atol from a slip. With the fallen leaves, irregular slope, and the healing injury, it was best not to risk a fall.

[Sharei]

[Yourself,] Atol said, reaching for a nearby branch to help leverage himself to the next awkward step. The slope had been mostly even so far, but it rose steeply here, and Atol could feel his shoulder strain. He'd have to stretch it out later. Laying around in that bed hadn't been good for him.

[Not that you aren't you when you're in your human shape, but you... I dunno.]

He dusted his hands off as he settled on the next rise.

[You can tell which of them you prefer to be in,] Atol said, turning to look at Sarkany's large grey body. [You're livelier. You enjoy yourself more fully. Sometimes you seem like you're getting claustrophobic when you're stuck in the shape of a man too long, but you never get like that when you're like this. It suits you.]

[MP]

[ Well. ] His tail swished gently behind him. [ I suppose they're different lives. As a man... ]

The tiercel scented the wind, crest lifting. Idly, but always with a passive, animal alertness.

[ As a man, I have to pass for one. Talk like one, think like one, pretend I don't have teeth in my jaws or the change in my veins. A pleasant lie - but still a lie. There's freedom in being what you are. ]

He leaned his head sideways, as if to bump the youth with the side of his jaw.

[ And freedom suits, don't you think? ]

[Sharei]

Atol lowered his head as if to conceal the smile that began to form unbidden. He made an embarrassed noise in the back of his throat, but when the smile refused to go he simply shook his head as he stood up.

[It suits,] he said, a well of something warm in his chest. The smile split into a grin as he reached toward Sarkany, intending to push his jaws playfully.

[Get off-] he was saying. [Smug ba--]

The ground gave way beneath Atol's foot on his next step. He reached desperately for a branch to break his fall as the earth slid loose, but his fingertips closed over empty air.

[MP]

His fingertips may have caught empty air, but Atol's back found a wall of muscled hide. With the youth securely braced in the curve of his tail, Sarkany craned around to sniff at the youth's shoulder. Scenting no torn stitches, he puffed a warm breath at Atol and eased him upright with his tail.

[ The flight's a nice perk too, ] he said, fluffing a smile.

[Sharei]

Atol, heart slamming against the inside of his ribs, smiled wobblily at Sarkany. It had only been a fall of three or so feet, but the impact wouldn't have been kind to any of his healing injuries.

[ For both of us. ]

The rest of the trip was made without incident. Atol, winded by the time they made it to the top of the trail, sat down on the rocky shelf just outside their destination and wiped the sweat from his brow. He was amazed he could sweat at all in this frigid air.

The dragon's den loomed as a great black opening before them, sheltered from view by towering pines that hid it from sight. Atol peered at the dark entrance and tried to make out any shapes within. Were Kanagi's - Sarkany's - sons already waiting? Were they watching? The blonde's spine straightened imperceptibly.

[ Do we... go in? Wait outside? ]

[MP]

[ It's generally good manners to announce yourself at someone's den. Leave your scent around - especially when it comes to dragons. ] The tiercel's jaws parted, tasting the air. [ But they're expecting us today. And it smells like they've got dinner waiting. ]

He vented aether, talons sinking more firmly to earth. He thought it would make the youth feel more secure to walk in side by side. As he padded forward, the tiercel let out a low hoot, announcing their entrance.

They'd set up a spit roast - showing off the pack's hunting prowess, he suspected. The shoulders and belly of the pig were still hot from the fire, dripping fat and ready to serve. Sohl had foraged tender wild greens and young shoots to supplement. All simple, inoffensive ingredients for a culinary stranger. A meal was a smart choice. A good distraction. Despite his sons' agreement, Sarkany was unsure what the sight of Atol - their first after everything the prophet had done - might revive over pure conversation.

A golden-haired man looked up from setting plates. A silent glance, taking in the two of them. Over the rim of his glasses, there was a flash of yellow - the same sharp color as Sarkany's, made sharper by the angled corners of his eyes. Then he adjusted the glasses, and his eyes were only a natural human brown. He stood, tapping the black-haired youth behind him. Aside from their age, they were as opposite in appearance as one could imagine.

[ My sons, ] Sarkany announced to Atol, though he left open space for them to introduce themselves. After all, it was terribly impolite to take another's name from their teeth.

[Sharei]

What Atol had initially assumed to be a giant cavern and nothing more soon turned out to be anything but when Sarkany turned them down a smaller passage in the side wall. It had been widened enough to fit the tiercel's form by intention, as Sarkany's talons only just barely scraped the stone steps as they descended. The kitchen they ended up in was similarly sized, as if the builder had considered Sakany's penchant for his forms in the design. Other than the strangely subterranean feel, however, it looked a lot like the kitchen in Koji's cabin, with many of the modern essentials. However, it also sported a large open-fronted hearth more alike what Atol was used to back home, and a roast sizzled and crackled over the fire. Smoke was vented out by some shaft that went who knew where, but Atol's gaze was drawn to the two figures.

The first one looked enough like Sarkany that Atol understood him to be the one related by blood. That meant that the second one with the dark hair was the adopted dragon and the one whose lair this was. Atol wracked his brain for all of the things that Sarkany had told him about interacting with dragons, about the gifts and expectations, and turned his attention toward his bag. He'd barely started to take it off before he heard footsteps and felt a displacement of air. He looked up.

The dragon was standing in front of him, its blue eyes fixed on him with the kind of relentless stare that Atol had learned from his father meant bad news. The blonde stepped back reflexively but the dragon caught him by the wrist with a bruising grip, preventing him from going anywhere. Atol shot Sarkany a nervous sideways glance.

"Um..." he said to the dragon, then switched to the hunter's speech. [Can you - that hurts-]

The dragon jerked back and dropped Atol's arm as if he'd burned himself. Atol recoiled and rubbed his wrist, eying the other boy dubiously. But there seemed to be a light in the dragon's eyes now that hadn't been there a moment ago, his gaze more present. Atol, who felt as though he'd narrowly avoided something unpleasant, reminded himself not to be upset. A poor history with humans had led to lasting trauma, not something Atol himself had done. He probably hadn't meant it.

[Sorry,] the dragon said awkwardly. [ I - sorry. I'm Sjira. ]

[It's alright,] Atol replied, already past it. [I'm Atol.]

[MP]

Sarkany's shoulders were relaxed. But his eyes, bright and sharp as ever, were on the weight of those last few strides. They moved to Sjira's grip as the dragon took hold of Atol's wrist. The seraph took a step forward. It was a gentle movement, and the hand that hovered at each of their shoulders was gentler still - a reminder only. But it put him in easy reach to separate the two, if things should sour.

The blond youth was likewise watching the situation. He murmured something - a soft "shoma" - but there was no need for more. Sjira let go of his own accord, Sarkany smiled and stepped back, and an apology was given. A sliver of yellow showed behind the youth's glasses at Atol's response, but he seemed to accept the resolution. While Sjira and Atol were focused on each other, he drew in a breath and let it out in an imperceptible sigh.

"And - I'm Noah," he said with a small smile, adjusting his glasses unconsciously. "We're glad you could make the trip."

[Sharei]

[ I'm glad to be here, ] Atol said diplomatically.

And it was true, even if he did give Sjira a slightly wider berth than Noah as he approached the table. The pies he'd had stashed in his bag found their way onto it, and he cast Sarkany another nervous backward glance.

[Is there something I can do to help? ] he asked.

Sjira waved him down. [ I've got the food, but you can help my brother set the table if you want. ]

[MP]

Sohl glanced up at the sound of his name, gaze darting from Atol to the silverware in his hands. He paused, then nodded over his shoulder toward several heaping bowls of side dishes. As per Koji's instructions, they'd tried to keep the cuisine similar to what Atol would be used to.

[ We made grazer food. You can bring those to the table, but there really isn't much to do. ]

He took an extra second to make sure their guest took up the task. It felt uncomfortable having that face at his back, but it felt safer than an Atol with a steak knife.

And if it is a trick, even the Prophet couldn't kill someone with a fig. Right away, anyway.

[Sharei]

Atol turned in the direction that Noah indicated and went to get the side dishes. But with his back to the group he had a moment's privacy, and he lingered at the counter, allowing himself that brief respite from the tension in the air.

Five minutes in and he already wanted to go home. Atol wasn't stupid. He'd grown up in the Star Tomb among some of the most cutthroat of Egypt's elite, and his father's temper meant that Atol had become extremely sensitive to the nature of a silence. Between the two of them, Sjira's initial outburst and Noah's careful attention, Atol was beginning to think it had been a mistake to come.

But it was too late to turn back now. He picked up the first bowl and squared his shoulders, resolving to get through the evening as diplomatically as possible.