Poison
Sat within the family's garden, Sidoreth has his tail curled around a rock, unusually sharp-edged. It looks insignificant, and indeed, there is no value in it. It's made of the same substance that most of the planet is made of. However, its edges were handmade - a reminder of home, where the winds were less torturous and the landscape less rolling and smooth. The garden is exceptionally beautiful for something grown in little more than three decades, the plants curling up across the walls. A particularly bright light stone has been hung in the center of this cavern, illuminating the small lake and garden. Sidoreth has just finished working on a part of it, now pausing for long, elaborate moments to drink in this memory of home.
Kemeneth enters the garden slowly, respectfully. "Father... I..." she lowers her head, dragging a forepaw across her face, one wing trailing. Her green hides seems a little dusty but she is relatively clean none the less. She looks up at him then. "I have questions... I..." Her voice shakes ever so slightly. "I feel confused..." she finally trails off.
Had it really been so long? Huffing a sigh, the dragon lowers his snout slightly, gaze drifting lower to watch the ripples on the lake. "Of course," he acknowledges. "Go ahead." Would he be able to answer them? One thing that living here had taught him was just how little he really knew about Avishraan culture. So much of it had gotten lost to him over the years - lost to him, Ybbeleth and Nawlath. Much of that, in turn, was the want to forget, but it was a disheartening process.
Kemeneth blushes slightly and moves to sit next to him before she licks at her lips, relaxing in the quietness. She inhaled deeply, calmly several times before she spoke."Father why did we leave our home...?" She looked down at her feet then. "Are there any more dragons like us...?"
Sidoreth quietly folds his wings behind his back. Chosing to ignore her second question, he slouches sideways and backwards, until his left arm is layered across the stone, his neck bent, gaze latching onto Kemeneth. "Child, I don't tell the story because I don't want it poisoning you," he says. "It's a story of emotions you shouldn't even begin to understand." A pause, steadily breathing, non-blinking stare. Almost as thought waiting, but not. His mouth opens. "If you really want to know I cannot withhold the information from you, but I ask you to reconsider your question."
Kemeneth nods slightly then rubs both forepaws across her face."I will reconsider it father." she is silent then, thinking, mentally going through her list of questions. "How did we get here father...?" she asks, finally.
Sidoreth gestures to where Kemeneth knows their collection of books to be, though they barely outnumber her fingers. "One of the aspects of our culture are the travel books," he says. "I'm sure you've heard me and Nawlath discuss them before, though you may've not made the connection. But it is that simple. If simple is the word, at least."
Kemeneth blinks a bit, realisation dawning."I see..." she trails off before adding a,"Thank-you father." she stares down at her forepaws then, two of the many questions she had, answered. She stretches a little then, her wings spreading before she eyes them. Becoming lost in thought she stares, not actually seeing them, not really seeing anything.
Sidoreth watches his daughter with worry. How many more questions would she have? And: would their answers, whilst individually harmless, come to combine to the poison he feared? She wasn't stupid - and it hurt him to withhold anything at all... but it seemed so necessary. And of course, there were far different worries, too. The prevalence of the species, for one. He'd been elated when Kemeneth and Atiyath had been born, here, on Tel'kael. But what of the future? Ybbeleth was dead, and that left but one family. And it caused him to entertain the bizarrest and most unrealistic dreams of survival of other Srians.
Kemeneth looks up then, silently with a look on her face that almost says she's trying to work things out. She opens her mouth to say somethign then closes it again, looking away. "Will there be... things chasing us father....?" she doesn't look at him, but throughfear of him, more of fear of what he will say."I mean... did we flee Avishraa...?"
Silence. Then, almost too quietly to be heard: "You know that if I answer that question, we'll return to your initial inquiry." It's a warning, of course, though meant in good spirit and concern.
Kemeneth shivers a little then nods."i understand father I.. I have realised that I.. have to know... I.." she shivers some more before leaning against him slightly."I need to know." she chirps, very softly, her eyes closing.
Sidoreth nods, though it is in acknowledgement of an inner thought rather than of Kemeneth's words. He seems almost distant, no tension in his body, just a sad glance into nowhere, as though, perhaps, he hadn't even listened. Accordingly, it comes as a bit of a surprise when he does speak. "Avishraa used to be a nice place. Then we came along - we, the Davir Sria, the brotherhood of order, like this family, and the Davir Kaea, the brotherhood of chaos. We upset a lot of people, because we had something they didn't." His voice is calm, almost narrative, nostalgic and bitter despite being lathered in softness. And still, that blank stare. "Magic." Finally, he glances across to Kemeneth, in scrutiny.
"You think it's natural for dragons to have magic," he observes. "You think it's natural that your scales are not of even colour, but blotched with black patches. You think nothing of your level of strength because you've never seen anything else. But we're weak, and we're, by Avishraan standards, ugly. The magic warps our bodies," he gestures to his slightly whithered right antennae, coated in black, necrotic skin all the way to his eyebrow. Kemeneth had never viewed it as anything other than a beautiful touch of asymmetry. Ugly? What a harsh word. How incomprehensible...
"So we've always been outcasts. Hundreds of years, outcasts. The only thing that stopped the others from rising against us was our magic. And we willingly hid behind it, of course." His shoulders tense briefly as he shifts, scowling slightly. "And then some of the Kaeans found a way to heal themselves of this... inconvinience," he sniffs, though he makes it brief, attempting to make it sound like scorn rather than sorrow, but failing. "And to make a long story short, the Davir Kaea are no more, and the Davir Sria are no more, and Avishraa is a cluster of torn apart rocks circling its dimming sun." His tone had become increasingly agitated. Eyes glittering with some unidentifyable emotion, he stares at her. "There. Does that suffice?" He trembles quietly.
Kemeneth listens intently then blinks, flicking a look down to her forepaws... before she stares up at him, stunned. She doesn't say anything, she can't. She tears her gaze away, not finding it ugly by any means, finding it more familiar than anything. A twitch runs through her as she tries to understand and she eyes her own hide. Hearing the almost anger in his voice she nods, cowed and silent. "Yes father." she whispers, not looking up.
Kemeneth remains sitting, not knowing what to say or do, shock rippling through her, wiping her mind of any other questions. At least for now.
Sidoreth visibly has issues curbing whatever emotions are running through him. Clearly, even the abridged version of the story was too much for him. Kemeneth had no idea of the details behind either of the 'are no more's, nor the comment on Avishraa's state as a planet - no information on how it had happened. Whatever did, though, was enough to drive Sidoreth off the edge.
Kemeneth finally looks up. "I'm sorry father..." Her tone... indeed even her posture seems to radiate sadness. "I shouldn't have asked," she adds, her voice cracking. "If there's..." she trails off. "I'll.. just go..." she whispers, lowering her head and sinking to all four paws before she turns to pad out.
You should stop her, advises a part of his mind closest to his heart. If you let her go, whom will she turn to? There is no one. Nawlath never speaks about Avishraa. You're the only one that can give her her answers. But his eyes merely brim with quiet tears, his jaw set, and he watches her leave, unable to unclench the jaw to speak, unable to let go of his cowardice.
Kemeneth trembles, staggering a little before she is back in the tunnels again. She stumbles over a soft mound of earth, falling haphazardly and just lying there, tears sliding down her face. Irritated, she attempts to scramble to her feet before she falls again, unable to get a good grip. When she does finally, she continues moving, heading to where she sleeps, both wings dragging.