Roleplay

@Rookie


((My apologies for the delay! Our deadline at the studio got moved up suddenly, so I’ve been working at my computer for 12 hour days this whole week and my wrists have been positively howling))



Rhizanthel hissed sharply and slammed her fist on the table with a terrible cacophony of clattering tableware, causing dragons in every corner of the room to flinch. One frail-hearted Skydancer even quailed weakly as he clutched his teacup to his chest. 


Tenebrae blinked at the noise, but didn't pause to set down the honey cakes for the little, quivering drake. The elderly Imperial tried to reassure her diminutive customer with as sweet a smile as she could conjure, though she was fairly certain the effect was  unfortunately crocodilian and freshened his tea. "No charge, dearest!", she croaked before snaking away between the tables, chairs and guests toward her irate friend. It was the busiest night in weeks and she wasn't about to let grumpy Guardian chase off her customers!


Tenebrae sat on her hind claws and smoothed one of her whiskers, twirling it between her talons, "You know I hate it when you do that here…"


"What?", Rhizanthel snipped through clenched teeth, eyes never leaving the parchments that littered the small table. 


Somewhere under all those reports and sales figures was a plate of honeyed toad's legs going to waste, no doubt untouched and long cold, and Tenebrae bet her left whiskers that her tea was similarly icey. The old draka clicked her teeth and flicked her ears, as much in annoyance as with pity for her friend.


Rhizanthel's mood was as black as her scales, rolling off her like an oppressive cloud. Friend or no, it was obvious that she could not stay here. Growing impatient, the teahouse Imperial snatched a report from Rhizanthel's talons and set it face-down on the table, "Work, Rhiz, I hate it when you do your work in here. It always puts you in a thunderous mood and I don't need that in my tea shop. If you're that worried about margins, start by not chasing off the only customers we've had in days."


The Guardian drake's fins flared indignantly, her lips curling into a snarl, but she didn't protest. Had they not been friends for nigh-on 30 years, Tenebrae was certain she would have lost an eye for that remark. Though, to Rhizanthel's credit, she reigned in her bubbling anger and composed herself, perhaps remembering where she was.


She chuckled ruefully and straightened her documents, "Of course, you're right. I'll take this mess home…"


Tenebrae's plagueling eyes softened, despite her cantankerous attitude, it was clear that Rhizanthel was stressed. She was a greedy, avaricious, morally...flexible and cut-throat dragon, but, in the end, she really did care about her clan. Not everyone understood that (sometimes even Rhiz herself didn't), but Tenebrae's seen it proven again year after year.


"Rhiz, dear, I haven't the least doubt you will solve this problem. If not, then I'm certain you could invent one to solve! Hah!"


"Hmm….quite...quite….", the Guardian mumbled, mostly to herself, though Tenebrae could see an idea already forming between those knit brows as the clan matriarch trundled away, papers in arm and food, of course, left uneaten on the table.


"Is she gone yet?", came Damascus' unmistakably dour voice from the serving window. 


Tenebrae flicked his snout with her tail, "Shush, you!", she turned toward the remaining customers and spread her arms magnanimously, raising her voice for their benefit, "Can't you see we have all these splendid dragons to serve? Now, who would like some roasted crickets with their tea?"

@Toyoll No need to apologize! I truly understand. Don't ever feel pressure to respond, this is meant to be for fun! Take as long as you need to get your work done! And thank you for starting the thread. I'm subscribed now.

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It’s… cold here.

Cold.

What a… concept.

The Tangled Wood encircles the dragon. At least she thinks she is a dragon. And that sense of identity alone, not the oppressive darkness of the forest surrounding her, sends a shiver of fear down her spine.

Thought. Something she was incapable of, last she checked, but in this moment she still thinks.

She thinks ideas. She narrates her thoughts and her actions. And she can feel the cold.

Cold.

She looks over her shoulder, moving her wings to keep them from blocking her vision. This comes naturally to her. A desire to check her surroundings and keep herself safe is instinct. It feels alright.

It feels alright. That scares me.

It scares me.

She feels adrenaline course through her veins, a feeling that only comes during battle. But she does not see any stimuli around her that would spark such a reaction. She is safe here. The forest is empty, except for herself. But she cannot help but feel alone and afraid.

Afraid of her thoughts. Afraid of herself.

What happened to me?

She cannot remember. One moment she was in a raging battle, fighting, seeking to protect her commander’s army. The next, she woke up here. In this dark forest with its cold soil. Alone, with no idea what to do.

No commands enter her mind. No protocols await her apathetic cost-benefit reasoning. No one is there to tell her what to do.

She is cold and very, very afraid.

I should find someone.

She wanders for what feels like eternity, but knows took less than an hour, until she comes upon a small waystation and enters the first building she sees.

The aroma of teas invades her senses, and momentarily overwhelms her. The panic of the last couple hours remains at the forefront of her mind and manifests itself in the hunch of her shoulders and frantic glances at the various customers in the shop.

With her newfound weakness, she knows she is easily manipulatable. She does not trust any of the dragons surrounding her but does not know where else to go.

And so, with locked movements and shaky claws, she gradually makes her way over to a table on the edge of the main room, and collapses into its seat.

She will regroup her mind later. But for now, as her bones ache with the faraway memory of war, all she wants is rest and a warm cup of tea. Maybe that will finally chase away the cold.