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Goddess of the Labyrinth; Anastesia Flight - Full
Topic Started: Jan 13 2014, 09:07 PM (500 Views)
Chirpadee
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behold her lovely plumage
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Unlike many dragons that flew on a whim when their bodies called, one tiny rosemary had taken quite the opposite approach. For the last two weeks she had been disappearing for longer and longer spells leaving her rider to watch her retreating form with confusion. It wasn’t as if the infirmary missed her, healers were falling all over themselves to find something to do in the absence of real violence. So her long absences cause no bother to anyone, but her rider. Even with that the woman was content to give her the space she needed. Their bond was strong enough the fiery woman knew what was coming. Her preparations were careful and drawn out, never cutting a corner where she didn’t have to. She had picked a place far from the academy along the edge of the forest to begin and it was there that she now sat as still as a statue now her work had ended. The process had been arduous and there had been several nosey dragons she had chased off but now? The work had been worth the trouble.

She sat with her hind four legs tucked nearly under her body, folded so she could stare at the last rays of sun as they vanished beneath the horizon. Her bright wings, like mottled gold stained glass fluttered in pleasure as she simply allowed the moment to wash over her. Her mind drifted to the meaning of this night, the enormity of everything she had accomplished in her short life and the great things still to come. In times of war she had never bothered to rise, there were plenty of sick and dying to attend to without the loss of her skills for a month as she sat an egg. Now? Well now she was free to experience the world in peace times and it had only seemed right she let herself be chased.

She had felt the need to rise for several days, a primal urging in the back of her mind that whispered of young ones and new life. It hummed in her veins and sang in her soul, urging her to call the suitors, but she had not been ready. The time was not right. She had put the action off with the self control of a saint. Despite the rush of blood to her ears and the thrill of excitement that came from the other females taking to the skies, she waited. Patience was a virtue she told herself as she spun her intricate web and readied her grand coming out.

Tonight though, as the last golden halo of evening faded and the first stars came out to play, she sighed into the wind. The last flecks of light played across her iridescent scales highlighting the vivid tones until shadow crept forth and saturated them in darkness. Tonight was perfect. She had ignored her own needs for days and tonight, she was ready. Her project was finally complete and she could feel the pride well in her heart at the enormity of the task she had undertaken and completed. Let other dragons say what they would of her breed; she knew that true perseverance did not always come in giant packages.

The air was unseasonably warm for the winter and the wind was still as if it held its breath for whatever was to come. She sat before what appeared to be a vast archway, large enough for any of the breeds outside of the behemoths such as fires or earths. Otherwise the tunnel seemed comfortable, if not a little low ceilinged. The trees that created it were bowed inwards, shaped skillfully into the vaulted entrance. It was what formed this archway that was quite miraculous. Fine fibers of white silk had been bound into the and wrapped down around the trunks sealing the hallway from the rest of the forest. For now the great gaping gate retreated off into blackness, hiding the truth of what was to come. Along the great gate hundreds of fine threads dangled, not attached to the ground but the windless night allowed them to only stir when the wings of the spiderlike female twitched. They did not seem to stick to themselves or else it would have been one giant mess, instead they flitted off one another, forming a loose doorway into her creation.

Just before her relaxed form were lined five perfect spheres of glass. Each was capped with a glass lid which could easily be removed by claw, and a simple metal handle allowed easy hold in mouth or paw. The stage she had set gave the impression that whatever she was keen to ask was going to be unlike any other flight that had transpired upon these grounds.

Her longer limbs, coated as they were in soft black fluff, folded together peacefully and her smaller set, near human in their dexterity and appearance, formed a mudra of readiness then one of patience. The time had come. She lifted her blunted head and let her pedipalps give one careful rub together to quell the excitement that washed over her. She had waited too long and now she was over eager. She would need to steady herself and not forget her carefully crafted plan. She had something far from ordinary planned for her suitors and a small part of her worried that it would not suit many of the males within the halls of the academy and beyond. That perhaps no one would come. She brushed off the thoughts with a warding mudra against her own mind.

Unable to hold off any longer her antennae flicked once and then she let out her sweet cry into the stillness of the night. It was no primal sound, instead it was a fluted sound with a hint of promise. Promises of tender moments, not brutal combat. Promises of peace of mind over broken limb.

As if in response to her cry tiny lights of gold began to flicker to life just beyond that net of webbing, drifting in lazy patterns beyond the net. The pale glow bathed her from behind while the moon basked overhead.

Let them come.

__________________________________________________________________
OOC! Alright guys this flight is going to have two parts. After intros you will be given your first task, then I will respond and give the second task. After that she will decide and the flight will close. UPDATE DUE TO INTEREST AND NEED FOR SPEED FLIGHT HAS BEEN REDUCED TO ONE ROUND. ANA WILL PICK AFTER ALL SUITORS HAVE DONE AS ASKED. This is going to be very simple and not at all aggressive (In fact being aggressive will probably get you stuck instead of helping you.)
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Silverfeather
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Flights. The forest dragon was fully aware of what was going on, but he had ignored the first round of calls, preferring to stay in the warmth of his home, keeping an eye on his rider. The forest wasn't really up for chasing, though his first chase he had ever really taken on had nearly killed him, the bone's labyrinth taking its toll on his body and freaking his rider out when he returned.

So, this season he was more wary, and probably wouldn't be--even if his rider urged that he should try. Throwing the same reasoning that he used on her countless times. He should loosen up, and try. That his first flight wasn't something to hold every females' flight too. She also pointed out that it had been a /tainted/ females flights and while they weren't quick to judge, sometimes their flights did get a little bit rowdy. But she knew sekkaian females flights could as well. It just depended on the female.

For now, though he was merely doozing in his nest, debating with himself. Perhaps just one flight. He could try and impress the lady and then he could sit out the rest of the season. If he was chosen, then good, great. It would be wonderful. If he wasn't. Well. That would be alright as well. He snorted, tucking his head further in underneath his head, before he sighed.

Sleeping was out of the question. He was too restless. Perhaps a nighttime flight would help calm his quarrels. Silently, as to not wake the residents of the household, he crept to the edge and dove off, diving down before snapping his golden tipped wings out.

The nights air was cool and crisp as he headed away from the Academy. He didn't care where he was going, or how long he was gone, he just needed to think about everything. lalaithion was almost always sure of what he wanted, but he supposed, he had some insecurities. He supposed that wasn't a bad thing. The grounds were quiet as he swooped over the lake gardens. The nightlife was alive, owls and mice were awake, and Lalaithion flew farther.

He flew for a few hours, thoughts drifting away as he enjoyed the soft moon rays that fell from the small orb in the sky. He was tempted on flying back, when a call echoed out, ringing in his ears. It was soft. It was soothing, spoke of peace, not war. He recognized the voice as well. Anastasia had risen. Well, one couldn't hurt, and he knew her, worked with her in the infirmary. Surely her flight wouldn't be dangerous, wouldn't nearly kill him in the process of trying to impress her. He wasn't found of fighting.

It didn't take long for him to find her, and with a soft woosh, he landed, before her. He gazed at the beginning of her creation and the soft glow of fireflys. Oh, another labyrinth. He felt a bit quesy in his stomach, but he shook it off. This was a whole new game. He could do this.

"Greetings, Anastasia." He bowed gently, his own words soft. "Lalaithion, here. What would you have me do, for it would be my pleasure." He greeted, relaxing more.
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Foxikoosh
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It turned out flights could be a challenging time of year. Llachar had only chased one female, as of yet, but there seemed to be a million of them all taking to the skies and acting, quite frankly, a little odd. The males who chased them weren't much better, Llachar among them. He might not have won the first chase, but that hadn't really been the point, in the end, and he wished his friend the best. At least Zodiac had figured out what was going on before Nephthys had chosen him…

Many of the females seemed to favor the night. This was fine for the less vision-inclined dragons, or those with good night vision, but Llachar was neither of these things. He was, however, determined, and if nothing else, good-humored about it. When another call startled him from contemplation of a very funny book he'd snuck from the library without Kat noticing, he looked up and outside, noting that it'd grown dark while he'd been reading. He rose and stretched and looked for Kat, who was at the desk working on something that seemed to involve way too much thread to be anything but an unholy mess. Llachar opened his mouth to say something to her, but she beat him to it.

"Go chase, and don't regale me with explanations," she said without looking up. Llachar stuck his tongue out at her. "And don't make faces at me, or your face will stick that way, and then what will the pretty lady dragons think?" He stopped sticking his tongue out and grinned.

"Well, Taints win flights all the time in their own country-- and in ours. And I'm sure there are a few frightening faces among them," he countered. "Perhaps I'd just try my luck there," he continued, watching Kat for one of those minute little shifts of weight. She looked up at him with barely a tip of her head-- one of those warning looks.

"You're going to get yourself murdered, mine," she warned him, and he tutted.

"Not so. They're not all bad, y'see. I wouldn't chase the really scary ones." Kat didn't look impressed.

"I didn't say they were all bad-- what are you doing here, still?" she said, changing the topic, and Llachar shrugged. "Oh, y'know. Thought you could use a break from ruinin' your eyes. I'll just be going now, shall I?" he asked, and Kat just nodded, going back to her work.

This time, the flight was to the jungle, once again in the dark, but with nothing to guide him. Llachar pointed his nose for the sound and followed it, and was pleasantly surprised when a glow drew his eye downward, the light from hundreds of tiny lights bathing a very interesting dragoness in soft gold. He spiraled slowly, looping his way down and landed with a flourish, touching down on one hind foot and dropping lightly to his forefeet as he folded his wings. Rather than just staring like an idiot, he ducked his head, bowing to the brightly colored female who was clearly the mistress of this place.

"M'lady," he said, and grinned a little crookedly. He never could manage to stay serious for very long, but respect was due, and this was important. "M'name's Llachar, and it's a pleasure to meet you. That's a lovely--" he paused, trying to decide what was going on here, "--garden? Assemblage of foliage. I especially like the lights," he said, nodding at the little glowlights. He wondered how she'd made them. "They are a fair reflection of their maker," he added, grinning brightly and perhaps dropping some of the painful formality. Painful for him, anyway… it was like being tied up in a knot so tight you couldn't think. And with that, he shut his muzzle-- no need to flirt really outrageously-- and sat politely.
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SemperMemor
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Seasons passed without much notice. An eye perhaps removed itself from it's work to watch the cascade of ginkgo leaves just beyond the border of his alcove's immediate vicinity, but the Glass paid it as much heed as a reader might have noticed the movement of tea's gentle steam when indulged in a particularly engrossing novel. Quietly whittling away in his duties was his most treasured and encompassing pastime and, currently, his only one. His head bowed in it's frivolent work, not very much at all came to his attention without some sort of tap upon the tail back into the realm of the self-aware. Another soul might have gone stir-crazy long before in the relentless hours without food or very much rest, but not him. His body coiled loosely around the forge found comfort in it's pulsating, gentle heat; his attention fully captivated and sharp kept him from idling upon adverse strings of thought; and his hunger, having grown lesser by the week in his recovered state of physical well-being, did not bother him as it ought to. It was his utmost desire to throw himself into his work as if it were his only pleasure. For the moment, it nearly was.

Living in the Academy wrought it's occasional moments of goodwill. Food was served at the leisure of it's residents. No one attacked another without due cause. Spirits were high, and, for the most part, sickness of the mind did not dwell in such brightness. It was certainly a more sensible place to make one's residence with so very many supplies and tools at hand, but he knew that, even on it's best day, there were many within it's white walls that would have him flayed upon sight...not that they weren't unjust in their claims for vengeance. His asylum here was not a secret, nor did he intend to hide it. With every step he took out into the open his wounds branded a clear, grotesque image of the penance he had suffered upon entering the hallowed grounds. It was by no means a pardoned atonement for what he had committed against it's people, but he never really wished it to be. There was nothing he could do to give them their peace of mind and lives back to them, a harsh reality that he would endure throughout the remainder of his days while he toiled away in the bowels of the Academy, producing as many advanced technologies that he could impart as an aggrieved form of tenuous recompense.

The Glass was more than gracious for it a second chance, or what he considered to be a fair one. One young Rosemary in particular thought it unkind to dwell in sorrow when such devotion had been laid before the jailer's keys. In the late afternoon of a mild winter's day the dragon found himself mildly removed from his normal position inside the forge into the dying light of the outside atmosphere. She had been right, the dragon mused quietly in his task of gentle deconstruction of a mace to examine it's make, despite how little she might have known about the whole situation. The tip of his tail curled closer to his belly's warmth. Fading rays of wheat-colored sunlight caught the crags amidst the dragon's disheveled armor, casting prisms in his hindsight with brilliant ribbons of pure color and lightening the crimson-gold of his own hide to glowing . The oddity of such beauty yet being

A genial noise drifted across the forest beyond the reach of the forge. Small ears swiveled at the disturbance, so much unlike the noise that clanged and pounded in a deafening cacophony of his profession's loud residence. He might not have heard it if he had been under the cover of the roof so shielded by a living wall of sound. So deaf for that very reason to anything outside of his alcove had very likely preserved him from hearing any before this one. Perhaps it might have been a blissful blessing in disguise, he realized with a start as he recognized the tenor in the call.

He should have known better than to venture out into the open in this season. While unnoticing of the months passing with timely regularity, this cool climate and shortened days in particular to the eastern forests triggered a hormonal change in females that signaled a time to Rise. His heartbeat quickened upon instinct, pupils dilating on their own accord. He could not help the innate, ancient reaction as he could not help feel the pang of hunger as it clawed at his belly during sleepless nights. Emotions rushed and visions of the past flushed before his mind's eye, uttering a quick, but silent death to the momentary excitement of a chase. Following her would not be a very wise decision on his part. His body reclined stiffy against the cool earth in an attempt to get the very idea out of his head by sheer determination. It had only been a natural, knee-jerk reaction to a stimuli uttered by a female in season, he repeated. There were things that could be repressed. Things that could be ignored.

The last time that he had felt the need to give chase resulted in the wrenching of two females from their home and riders with malicious, self-righteous intent to violate at his own convenience. His mind had been very clear at the time, so cruelly headstrong and sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that such an act could only benefit him. The females had no rights of their own, no other purpose in their lives but to submit to him and procreate his bloodlight. The memory of it grew so vivid that it only served to bring a fresh bout of bile to the back of his throat. The Glass cringed, swallowing the mixture of molten silica and corrosive stomach acid with an uncomfortable shiver. He had not taken a mate since then.

Rubied eyes fell to the soft, dried grass only to take on a quality of frosted concentration. He found himself lost in thought, counting the fine leaves with an absent manner. He didn't think that term "taken" was very appropriate any longer. While many females often tossed that phrase around, only a scarce few actually knew the terror that could be inflicted from it. Taken implied that they had the other party had experienced no choice in the matter. He stuffed it away into the repressed part of his broken visage with a trembling shake and returned his gaze to the heightened moon far above. The call still rang in his ears as if it had never left a looping track. His wings shifted anew in their anxious fervor. It was still not wise. If Anamchara were to ever find out that he had even entertained the idea he would likely be two less anatomical viscera at the very least. And yet...

The notes belied the identity of this female as someone that he actually knew. Anastesia had been very much unlike the rest of his scant visitors since his return to the Nyushi. She had been kind when not asked, gentle when not required, and compassionate beyond her years toward a creature that, in his modest opinion, deserved neither sympathy nor love. He found his feet bracing themselves of their own volition, gaze shifting to a staggered vision as his uneven pace began to tattoo forward in an awkward shuffle. Perhaps, he reasoned meekly, she might find him useful if something were to break. It was a terribly weak argument that he knew, deep down, would never hold against her if she were to ask his true intentions for being there. His right forelimb and left hindquarter had never entirely recovered from their injuries. The same held true to his right wing joint at the elbow. Flying was painful at the very least and, if possible, to be avoided unless required. If he must, he would, but for the moment the dragon allowed himself to amble toward the source of the Rosemary's call upon foot.

He didn't need to sojourn very far to find where she waited behind the objects he had made and delivered to her earlier. A mass of carefully manipulated wood at her web's direction rose behind her like an enrapturing monolith. The glass had not the time earlier to properly look at it before had been due back to his duties. It's entrance rose above the small dragoness, an extremely time-consuming construction that he could justly appreciate from an artist's perspective. It must have taken an age to build for one so small. He couldn't help but allow a slight smirk across his features, some small semblance of mild pride growing in his chest for her as it dipped and wove into the jungle beyond. It was rather impressive, even from this obstructed angle.

His emotions swallowed the better of him as he approached her figure, giving her a rather anxious, trembling bow. Other suitors had already arrived and made their greetings to the Rosemary, a terrifying fact that he, under such scrutiny, nearly made to succumb to and dash off in the opposite direction. Certainly this was a mistake. He had no right to be here. While it might have ordinarily been beneath him to display such a rare state of internal conflict, he assured himself that, maybe, she would understand. The glass affixed his eyes upon her main set of obsidian beads and muttered, "An exquisite construction to befit an artist as meticulous as yourself." His tail twitched behind him with a palpable measure of uncertainty. "I hope that my creations will serve your intentions to their utmost this evening. I wish to test them myself, if.... I may be so...bold."
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Zinc
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The Flight season had returned. Lichen himself was a bit unsure of the season, seeing as within the last one, he had not really bothered to Chase females, so much as a Flight had landed in his lap, guided by the blue flowers that had been grown by Forest Psamanthe, his wyrmlinghood crush. As sorrowful as it seemed to him, he had not seen much of her since the birth of their son, Alder, though he had certainly seen the young Forest since then. He had grown into a proud creature, and Lichen felt his chest puff with pride at the thought of the bat-like Forest and his bonded. Though there had been some doubt and uncertainty circulating around Striker, who was, to boot, a friend of his own rider, the charges had been cleared in the rather spectacular and harrowing hatching that had brought his son into the world.

Now…well…Lichen wasn’t sure if he wanted to get involved this year or not, but he had to admit, after having a taste of the promises that came with being selected by a female and seeing them through to the end, the thought of participating in a flight was tempting, even if he was feeling the hesitance deep in his bones. He swallowed, his small crest pressing to the contours of his skull as he stood upon the marble balcony of his quarters. He had been having restless nights as the calls and cries of the females had raised in their frequency and the season burned into it’s height. His body felt hot, itchy, and restless. Tight. He didn’t like the discomfort that burned within him, needing to be released by the one thing he knew that a female might be able to offer. He knew they were good for more than that, not simply to relieve his needs. But still the hormones scared him, and made him uneasy.

He shook his lightly feathered body out, the downy covering that peeked from between his dull brown scales fluffing out to a considerable coat against the winter chill and he settled back against the marble, head dropping to his paws as he shut his bixbite eyes and forced himself to try to rest. It wouldn’t do to get wound up in knots every time a cry went out. He wasn’t even sure why he laid out under the stars in the first place. Perhaps a part of him was slightly masochistic, allowing the temptation to ring against himself. Or maybe that instinctive, feral part of him that brewed against the sentient half that occupied his mind was more dominant than he had first understood. Regardless, he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to move into the shelter of his room where the sounds would be more muffled, and he wouldn’t have to fear his lack of control sending him chasing after a female whom he knew not.

He faired well, for a few hours at least, until one call rang out, a sweet and high note that caught his attention with it’s lacking of feral notes and altogether instinct that had previously caused his blood to boil. It was a summons true enough, but it lacked that distinct edge, and it was of that, that his curiosity was peaked. He cast an uncertain glance to his room behind him, and then to the grounds below. Well…it…it couldn’t hurt to look, could it? He found himself on his feet before he realized what he was doing, but he hesitated at the lip of his ledge, staring down at the grounds below, and torn. Finally, with an inward sigh, and relaxing of muscles, he allowed himself to take the plunge. After all, what were really the chances of a dull, dirty brown Rosemary being seen as a likeable suitor for any female? He was not large, nor strong, nor brave or bold. He certainly wasn’t flashy or beautiful save the hints of pink. He was not likely to catch anyone’s eye this eve, and his curiosity and masochism could be satisfied in full through this participation.

Pink-touched wings spread and caught the air as feathers threaded through the breeze and carried him in the direction of Anastesia’s call. He backwinged to land among the other suitors, feeling dwarfed by the massive kings of elements that surrounded him. A Forest and two Glass dragons had made there way here before him, and even the smallest of the glass in his shades of golden yellows was larger than he. Lichen felt himself trying to straighten his spine a bit even as he approached to see the female that they chased. He was a bit taken aback and surprised, but no less interested in the chase when he beheld just who it was.

The spider-like Rosemary he had seen before, for she was quite difficult to forget. He had worked alongside her, once or twice, in the Infirmary, though their exchanges had been brief, and little more than work-related queries rather than anything personal. He wondered if she recalled him at all. He figured regardless of whether or not her memory served her well, it would be best if he would introduce himself. He stepped up, feeling small and nervous. “H-Hello.” He cleared his throat, trying to rid the stuttering that had come back to haunt him.

“I am Rosemary Lichen, I work in the healer wings with you so I’m not sure if you…remember me…” he paused, crest falling and dipped his head quickly in greeting before he turned his eyes to inspect the high arches of her woven, unique silk, and the fireflies that had strewn themselves around to ignite the night with their warm glow, and catching the glimmer of the glass orbs at her feet. “I admit that I am intrigued by what you have readied here. And I am…eager to participate.” He managed not to stumble over his words this time, and gave a quick smile before he retreated back a few hasty steps, doing his best not to trip over his own feet or tail while he waited for any final arrivals or the issue of this challenge from Anastesia.
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Nimirra
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Rose quartz eyes watched the setting sun from the western-facing ledge, illuminated by the dying rays of the setting sun. This had become a habit during the winter months for the piebald Chaos while his rider, devoid of constant work within the Academy, found himself various ties and connections in which to toil away the slower times, likely within the black markets in which Ramsis bore a well-walked presence. Today was a rare evening which rider and dragon shared the last golden shafts of light together on their room’s terrace, a mysteriously serene panorama for the two to share.

Stretched languidly along his dragon’s side with the ease and nonchalance of a cat, Ramsis’ dark irises were busy roving over the edges of the final dagger he had drawn from his attire to oil. The cut of cloth gyrated meticulously over the blade, polishing and buffing the newly sharpened surface under the scrupulous directions of his nimble fingers. Each were lost in the moment, one to the internal tumult of analytics and philosophical musing, the other to the practiced motions of learned patience. The air was oddly calm for the season, winter seemingly having offered the grounds some measure of respite into warmer temperatures.

A pressing thunder from the depths of the Chaos’ chest vibrated against the lounging rider, causing him to give pause to his labor of love and look over his obscure companion as a female’s belligerent shriek filled the air far in the eastern distance beyond their sights. As the curious rumbling subsided, comprehension dawned for the keeper of secrets. Ramsis cleared his throat, “She’s fine you know.” He felt the salmon eyes turn to him, beseeching him to continue with his cryptic statement. “Vlitzcrig. She’s out there somewhere. Try not to concern yourself with her affairs, she’ll return when she’s able.” He continued dismissively, the web of his intelligence making it nearly impossible to discern whether or not what he said was in confidence or bold-faced lie.

Mazhrekan accepted his rider’s comfort for what it was, their years together forging the trust that, even if he did not truly have an answer, that the answer he gave was one of dark optimism to keep his partner’s mind at the edge of complacency. The Chaos let his vision wander back to the fading twilight, the last hints of warm pigments being chased from the skies with a brush of dark velvet blue. The Lightning whom he had courted and sired his Gravity son had long eluded his searching gaze on scouting expeditions, lost like the fleeting owl he watched meld into the night’s thicket.

His plans to assist her in the recovery of her Taint-born daughter had gone awry when she had seemingly vanished from his world’s existence. It had taken Ramsis quite a number of weeks to convince him that that theory was not valid and his magic had not, in fact, sucked Vlitzcrig into an alternate dimension accidentally from spending an unusual amount of time around her. Even after, Mazhrekan still could not shake the owed promise he’d made but had been unable to make good upon. Every cry of an estrus-euphoric female’s challenge reminded him of the broken vow.

A sweetened cry sang across the skies minutes later, strangely saccharine compared to the usual heraldry of a Flight. Ramsis took the bull by the horns, sensing his dragon’s downward spiral that would surely lead to nightmarish reflection on his most recent siring experience at the claws of the Ruin who had ambushed him from above, claiming him as her genetic prize without his initiation or witting participation in her so-called challenge. “You’re tense,” Ramsis prompted, ruffling his unkempt hair from the shared emotions washing into his own head, “and that one sounds inviting enough without risk of further limb-loss. You should at least make an appearance and burn off that excess energy you’re humming with.”

Mazhrekan’s maw twitched downwards in his version of a frowning grimace, “Just because you enjoy bedding females when you are, as you say, ‘tense’ does not equate me to the same philosophy nor fate, Ramsis.” Uneasily, he turned his crowned head to the forest’s edge where the call originated. Sighing after several minutes of terse silence, he relented to his rider’s wishes if for no other purpose than to prove to the enigmatic man that his solution would be no more fruitful than the contented perching he had taken to enjoying during the late nightfall hours. Arduously he rose to his feet, his counterbalancing pinion instinctively taking root where his forelimb had once unwaveringly stood.

Obsidian wings unfurled like the lowering of a mast’s mighty sails, veins of alabaster that coursed through the webbing clashing vibrantly against the darkening atmosphere above. A careful thrust from his dais with strong hind limbs bore him into the heavens, heavy rustling of his flight pattern beating a steady tempo into the stagnant skies. His runes ignited in the darkness, fiery scrawl of unknown mysteries projected from his figure in radiant strokes of carmine and gold. These emblazoned symbols preceded his appearance to the gathered crowd of dragons beneath the archway, announcing his arrival long before his grave voice ever would.

It took several backstrokes to angle his landing correctly, angling out his lower quarters to touch down first in order to allow his wing arm to fold in and act as his final forepaw for sturdy equilibrium. Silent while the four that had arrived before him spoke their praises, he surveyed the fine silk weaving and bowed trees that was unquestionably fine and grueling work. When the largest of the four, the crimson Glass, finished his appeal to join, Mazhrekan simply let his appraisal at the Rosemary’s handiwork do the talking as she had offered the gathering males the same courtesy of silent appreciation.

After his cool eyes had drunk their fill of Anastasia’s stage, his jaws parted with scrupulously spun words, “A female of most curious nature calls us all forth, and pray tell, what does the dragoness wish to see of her suitors?”
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Chirpadee
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It did not take as long as the spider-like dragon would have assumed to attract potential mates. Males flocked to her cry in quick succession. A private smile spread over her lips as her fears were as assuaged. With each addition the heat in her body increased and she formed a few quick warding mudras against her own excitement. They were a varied group and she was quite satisfied with the turn out to be completely honest. She was not a vein creature instead she was taken aback by their presence. She was used to being unobtrusive, so having so many eyes fixated on her was somewhat new and while exciting it made her feel she had to perform accordingly.

She greeted each as they came. First the usually energetic forest, she had not expected him. To be honest she hadn’t known what she had been expecting, but he was welcome and gave her hope that she would not be left without a male to chase her. That private smile played over her features and her small forearms folded into a mudra of welcome then one of friendship. “Lalaithion, good to see you once more. I am gladdened that you chose to come. Once all have gathered I will explain my plans. No need repeating myself.” She formed a symbol of mystery and her eyes glimmered at her unspoken secret. “I am sorry your curiosity must remain a moment or two longer.”

The next to come was a glass she had never met. Her face remained as open and receiving as the last. She greeted his landing with one of her quiet smiles though it was somewhat hidden under pedipalps. The female gave a bow of her fluff crested head. Her many glassy black eyes filtered over the male, examining his rather interesting appearance. It was hard to tell exactly what she was looking at as there was no pupil in the wash of black, which could be somewhat disarming for those who had never met her before. To be watched by so many eyes was not common when dealing with one dragon. This glass quickly proved he was quite skilled with words and flattery. Little hands formed a pleased shape then one of greeting. “Llachar, a pleasure indeed. I welcome you and am honored by your presence. Thank you for your complements on my craftsmanship. The lights, I must admit, are not of my making, but natures. I simply claim credit for their temporary cage.”

The next arrival was another unexpected surprise, the glass whom she had commissioned for the very orbs at her feet. As if in recognition one long forelimb stretched out and adjusted one of the spheres. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but with so many limbs absentminded gestures really could be a problem. She let her many eyes sweep his battered form, wishing he would allow her more time to work his wounds as the deal had been. Still she had taken what she was allowed and would not complain it was more than he had intended to allow her. “Gloire.” She eased pleasantly, noting his own anxiety, “You are more than welcome here and I am delighted that you have chosen to come. I hope that my use for your craft is not disappointing.” She felt she could in some way understand his trepidation, though she did not know the truth of his circumstances.

The places she had allotted for males in her flight were filling fast as another familiar face soared from the night to greet her. At this point she had a pair of eyes for each male. For the moment all eyes fixated on the form of the fellow healer. She unfortunately did not know the name of this one; they had met in passing and usually only for brief moments. Thankfully he remedied the situation himself, which prevented her embarrassment of trying to recall it on a moment’s notice. His stutter was endearing, and showed his nerves. She could relate to the discomfort of being judged. Even with her own many eyes the eyes of others always burned hotter. Her heart raced against her ribs, whispering that she should make this quick. She ignored the sensation of building need with skilled patience, “Of course I remember you Lichen. We are both healers in the same infirmary. Yours is a face I have seen often enough to know. It is good to see you outside of those halls. Thank you for joining me tonight I am flattered by your coming.”

The final male was quite unusual specimen and the female found herself once again caught off guard. This last male would be the last she could accommodate with the preparations she had made. Chaos dragons were very rare and she had only glimpsed them in her activities. So being so close to one was an interesting moment in and of itself. She rubbed her pedipalps at his greeting and her hands formed another greeting mudra. There was no name from this male with missing limb, just question of her motives. "Welcome sir chaos. A pleasure to have you." With the ranks filled she nodded her chin in acquiescence to his request. A soft thrum started deep in her chest for this is what she had waited those two long weeks for.

She shifted her small weight to her weight bearing forepaws to better allow herself movement. Spindly hind legs unfolded gracefully and she rose to stand before them with a stillness most females could not boast this time of year. Then again self-control was something she spent years refining. Her bulbous tail hung low and her small hands formed a thoughtful shape. Most of her suitors dwarfed her, excepting the other rosemary with whom she could meet eyes without lifting her chin. In the moonlight the bright stripes that raced down her side were saturated, forming hues of deep carmine and cerulean instead of their usual vibrant tones. Her many eyes jumped to the faces of the eager, or anxious, males all at once taking them in with varying levels of complexity, not all eyes were equal when you had so many. To be honest a more traditional flight might have overwhelmed her senses. “I must say I am humbled that you all chose to chase me. I fear if you are expecting combat or some other wild activity I suggest you seek elsewhere to fulfill your needs. What I have planned is quite outside that realm. It asks something different than strength of limb and wing.”

Her head turned so several sets of eyes could focus on the soft glow behind her while her main set remained on the line before her. “As you have noticed I have built something very specific for my purposes. The point is simple. Take up a vessel and fill it with fireflies. When you feel your task is complete come and find me. There is no time limit, though if you take too long I may assume you have moved on to a more robust chase, I would not blame you if this were the case.” Her head turned and she indicated to the spheres in case one of the males had failed to notice though she doubted that thought. The orbs were of a large scale and might be a bit cumbersome for the other rosie if not for the simple metal handle. With a pragmatic smile she continued , “When you find me I wish to know what you took from the hunt, a bit of wisdom or insight that you gained in the activity. I wish you all the best of luck and will see you within.” Her stomach fluttered with a cloud of fireflies equal to that which filled her maze. She was anxious, uncertain how well this activity would be received. She did not want to wait, and yet wait she must. There were plenty of ways to tell a cunning suitor without forcing them to physical breaking points. This just happened to be her choice, a bit elaborate and time consuming, but she felt the effort worthwhile.

Her wings swirled to life and with a mudra of expectancy she lifted from the ground. Her many limbs pulled closer to her body and her pedipalps wrung together in excitement. Her moment was soon and so many males had appeared just for her. She did not know she had any such powers over the other gender and it lightened her heart from a burden she did not know she had been carrying. For the span of a heartbeat she hovered, giving each male one last contemplating stare with her obsidian eyes. Each male had merits and she quite liked them all for varying reasons, but her test would prove which was the truest.

With a mudra for luck she turned gracefully in the air and vanished through the strands which parted like curtains in the whirl of her wings. Without another backwards glance disappeared into the depths of the shaped forest and left the males to follow whenever they felt themselves ready. The tunnels would be too narrow for any other dragon to fly, but her wings were specialized and she had crafted this labyrinth to her own specifications. With careful maneuvering she found her way to the far side and landed within a clearing big enough for every one of her suitors to gather in, or what once was a clearing. There now was a thin roof of webbing through which moonlight could filter but the majority of her captives could not escape. Each gentle breeze that whispered across the treetops lifted the roof a foot or two then dropped it again when the night stilled once more.

She settled once more and folded her longer arms below her chest so the palms of her feet faced upwards. Her smaller set formed a balancing mudra, to keep her from losing the careful grip of control she had on those primal urges that swirled just under her skin. Now there were males present the choice to wait seemed foolish and she was having trouble thinking with her usual clarity. With a slow breath she closed her many eyes and let her breathing level out. Her focus roved outwards form herself and she let her ears follow those who had chosen to chase.

What the suiters would find within was quite amazing. The entrance was just the tip of the grandeur she had prepared. For thousands of feet in all directions the forest had been shaped into a maze of twisting webbed corridors. They meandered without any true purpose or direction. Some lead to dead ends but most wound their ways back into the maze without obstruction. The construction itself was breathtaking, a veritable webbed cathedral that shaped the forest to her will. Vaulted ceilings gave plenty of space for high reaching heads and to avoid claustrophobia. She had spent her time well in its making and each tunnel was strung tight and secure. Only three tunnels branched into the far clearing to meet her, but many passages lead to those as streams all feed a greater river. This maze was not intended to get its inhabitants lost, merely to give them ample space to search out their prey.

As for the fireflies there were indeed plenty for the suitors. They flitted through the halls like the candles of ghosts, winking on and off in lazy patterns at all heights without any indication they even noticed the dragons. Where she had found so many in the dead of winter and how she had captured them all without harm were questions that would go unanswered. In truth that was a tale nearly as grand as the creation of her maze. The fact was there were plenty to go around and more than any of their jars could hold. The whole experience was peaceful, just the fireflies, a danger free maze, and in the end a strange, but peaceful female.
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Silverfeather
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Lalaithion made note of each of the other dragons, but he paid them no heed, rather listening to Ana. Once everyone was here and she had personally greeted them, her task was simple.

Catch fireflies, and think on things. Lalaithon's maw twitched with relief. He was not looking to fight, nor any sort of combat. He couldn't help but hide his relief, nothing to stab him, or try to break a wing. As she flew off and disappeared into the Labyrinth, Lalaithion picked up a vessel and began to make his way into the labyrinth. He didn't mind if he was the first or the last, He would put his all into this task.

As he moved, he carefully caught fireflies, meandering slowly through the passage ways. He didn't move with much purpose, he could take some time in the labyrinth, musing. It was a work of art, and the patience she must have had to construct such a thing. He admired it. He knew he didn't quite have that patience to sit and create something that worked with the earth, with the forest. The trees were still alive and well, if not a bit bent, and afterwards, the whole thing could come undone, or the trees would simple continue to grow bent before straightening up again.

Slowly his glass vessel was having more and more of the little lights, but he didn't catch everysingle one. No, he caught a few here and a few there. Preferring to leave some out to continue to add to the marvel that was the maze he found himself in. Eventually he found one of the larger pathways, and he meandered through it, before finding another, smaller passage way instead of following the large one. Curiosity filled him, and there were so many choices.

After awhile, he had travesed through several off shoots, finding the other larger streams, and it came across his mind. He hadn't come across any dead ends yet (though he was sure there were some out there) Everything was flowing together, like a giant river. Carefully collecting more fireflies, he mused. There was a sense of oneness here, he was part of a larger scheme of things, and while he may seem small and insignificant, his role was still an important part of the world, even if if it didn't seem like it.

He laughed to himself, oh, introspection was never something he had done before, but with the current events running around his life, he couldn't be surprised. But he also had to laugh at himself. His rider would probably just roll her eyes, and while he loved to joke around; there were times for serious. One just had to learn how to balance it. True, he may not have mastered it, preferring to joke around; to make people smile and laugh, but hey he was trying. There could be no fault in it. No one was perfect.

Making his way down one of the larger passages, he wondered where he would be able to find the spider dragoness, So he began to follow a path, occasionally catching a few more Fireflies, here and there, enjoying the nights air that gently blew threw the vaulted passage ways. Finally, after what seemed liked forever; He managed to find the lady in waiting, settled down in a large clearing.

Carefully, he approached, offering his small globe of fireflies. It wasn't crammed ful of lighting bugs. No the small globe probably held about 15 total, each blinking in an odd sort of pattern, each with enough space to feel somewhat comfortable in the glass. "Well met, Anastasia." he greeted, bowing his head, and then offering the small globe. "I give you these, and while it may not be a lot of fireflies, i have to admit, i preferred them out of the small globe in their natural habitat."

He presented it, but then he carefully released them. "However, they're not meant to live in such a small composure, and do better out here in this world. They are part of it. As we are. There is a oneness to the world we are connected in one form or another--to this earth, to each other. We might seem small and insignificant, and our actions may seem futile; but in the grand schemes of things, we are important one way or another." He paused....

"much like the trees that are bent to help create your walls, if left in that way, they would merely adapt to that shape, and new limbs would start growing straight again. They care not for the petty struggles--as long as they have light, and sunshine; we all eventually return to the earth."

He then chuckled. "But we also can't forget to have a little fun in our lives, and to help others. Balance is also needed here, too. We should make our actions count--Even if it's just bringing a smile to someone's face or making them laugh or just giving them a hug or just being the shoulder they can lean on. Laughter is also important to living a full life." He shrugged.

"That is what I have gleaned here anyways." He set the empty globe down. "I have had fun with this challenge." He took a step back after he finished, and then waited patiently, settling down to watch the fireflies dance around, free once again.
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Zinc
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Lichen stood uncertainly beside the rest of the suitors, watchful and waiting until a fifth suitor arrived, a mottled Chaos, to take the final slot that Anastesia seemed willing to offer. He was an odd commodity, the Chaos, then again, most of them were. Lichen couldn’t help but to stare a bit at the empty space where his once whole limb must have occupied, his bixbite eyes wide and his crest slowly lowering towards his skull in surprise. He had never in his time as a healer had to perform an amputation, though he’d heard the stories. The major battles had ended not long after he had become capable of joining their forces, and even when he had begun his training, he was not allowed anywhere near such a complicated procedure. He felt his scales clatter softly in the draconic form of goosebumps before he force himself to stop staring and turn his attention back to Anastesia as she acknowledged their greetings.

He was grateful at least, that she seemed to remember him, and a bit of his anxiety dwindled, replaced by a softening of his eyes and a small smile. She might not have known him by name, but at least she, as another Rosemary did not seem immediately disgusted by his lacking of colorful plumage and scales as a male of a species that was known for their flamboyant appearances. Even Anastesia sported bright colors in her mottled shades, though her form seemed more tailored towards an arachnid than true draconic like Lichen’s own. That did not however, perturb him from her either. An interesting concept, he thought, one odd Rosemary pursuing another. But being ‘odd’ wouldn’t win him anything. Especially since he wasn’t sure if winning was quite what he was after at this point. That same hesitance crept onto him again, but he felt forced to quash that rising anxiety when Anastesia finally rose and strode to stand patient and sentinel before them for a few quiet moments.

It at least heartened him to know that this would not be a battle of strength or physical prowess. Looking around himself at the other suitors who outweighed and outsized him, Lichen knew he would have stood little chance, even more so if it were a mere skill of general display. He had little in the means of flashy combat-ready moves to show anyone. And if it had been something involving fighting…well…he tucked his chin a bit closer to his neck, feeling self-conscious. That would surely have been his brother’s game, then.

The name of the game was fireflies. A fluttering of relief found itself present in Lichen’s chest, and he allowed himself a slow exhale. The orbs of glass set before her had their purpose unveiled, and Lichen regarded them with new, curious eyes, immediately beginning to work at how he might carry it and try to catch fireflies at the same time. As a healer, where one needed to learn how to balance tools in paw as well as jaw, he was no stranger to standing on his hind legs for short amounts of time, though the sensation was foreign and unnatural for his draconic body at times. Perhaps he could merely carry it upright when he was chasing a firefly, but carry it in his jaws at other times? He looked up from thoughtful musings to listen to the last of his Rosemary kin’s words before she spread her wings and lifted into the night after one final backwards glance.

A shiver ran over Lichen’s body, one part causation of the Flight lust, the other part from the completely alien sensation of staring into obsidian eyes that he couldn’t fathom. She was strange and mysterious, this Anastesia, and something about her unusual but peaceful demeanor called to that primal part of him as well as to his own logical side. He waited a few moments, for some of the larger dragons to move forwards and navigate to their own vessels before he dared to step forward and grab his own. His hesitancy meant that others proceeded to the maze before him, but Lichen didn’t mind. Anastesia had said they could take all the time they needed after all…He just hoped he didn’t take too long.

Unfortunately, the first few minutes of his meandering in her maze of webbing was spent marveling, not catching fireflies. If not for the sound hook of his primary canines in his jaws holding the handle of the vessel in it’s unique niche, he would have dropped it from the open mouthed staring he was doing at the high vaulted ceilings and the tightly drawn lines and ropes that had been constructed. Her work was a marvel, a grand feat, in his eyes, and he took a bit of time to inspect the substance of the walls up close before he realized something. Though there were fireflies fluttering about through the skies of the maze, there were many that had gotten themselves entangled in the fine threads of the wall’s weaving. Concern flared up in lieu of a competitive spirit and Lichen dropped his vessel to the grass, prising it open. Careful paws that had helped sew stitches and held sutures were put to work pulling small insects from the walls, and placing them safely within his vessel. It was slow, rather toilsome work, and by the time he had navigated one section of wall, he had a small smattering of Anastesia’s webbing lining the bottom of his vessel.

He regarded it with some dismay, looking at the small pile of threads in comparison to the two dozen or so fireflies whose lives he had rescued before he decided it was for the best to simply go now. He had no idea how much time he had burned in his odd attempts at gathering and protecting the small, but he felt it was too much. But still, he couldn’t help but stop every time he saw another frail light throbbing in the depths of the moon-ignited weaving of the maze, like a ghostly will-o-wisp. Some he simply released to the air to continue, fair game for other suitors, others he placed into the protective ensconcement of his vessel before he continued on his way.

By the time that the maze spilled towards the clearing where Anastesia was waiting to herald them, Lichen was feeling a bit more confident in his numbers, and considered the dimly glowing yellow-green of his vessel to be fulfilling to Anastesia’s task.

He walked out of the halls of white webbing in time to see the Forest male release his own fireflies into the night. Lichen lifted his head, his vessel still held in his jaws, to watch them go, flickering away into the cold night. His crest lowered as he wondered how long the small creatures would survive in the chill. He reached a paw up, and lifted the vessel from his jaws to clutch it close to his chest, hobbling on three legs to stand before Anastesia.

“I caught some fireflies.” He said with a small, childish smile on his face as he held up the vessel, balancing it carefully in his paw. “I just…you’re not…” he clutched the jar a bit closer to his chest. “I know it’s silly and that we’re dragons but I’m worried anyway…you won’t eat them or hurt them, right?” he asked, crest flicking up just a tad from his skull as he peered at Anastesia in the moonlight.

He was forgetting something. What was he forgetting. Oh yes! Wisdom! That was right.

He floundered for a moment, trying to think of what he might have gleaned from this encounter with the endless hordes of fireflies before his eyes settled on the threads that lined his globe. “I uhm…I learned something…or remembered to be aware of something from this activity.” He began, uncertainly, though he couldn’t bring himself to look up at Anastesia for his shyness, and instead focused on the glass vessel, one claw tracing idle, invisible patterns on it’s smooth surface. “I spent a lot of time well…helping some fireflies that got a bit…stuck. And I know that I couldn’t possibly have helped them all, and I’m sure there’s still some stuck there somewhere.” He frowned, looking back over his shoulder towards the maze. “But I made a difference I think, even if it was just to one firefly. And I think sometimes people forget, that taking just a bit of time to help someone with the hard things rather than what’s easiest can make a huge difference to them, sometimes even as great as life and death.” He trailed off, unsure how to continue from there, so he decided that would be the end of it.

He glanced up, pink-hued eyes meeting Anastesia’s obsidian ones before he flashed a quick, nervous smile, his paws still braced on the vessel, willing to hand it over should if and when she asked for it, despite any misgivings he may have had regarding her intents for the small bugs.
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Foxikoosh
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Llachar took his time heading into the maze, trying to come up with a plan of attack. He gave it several minutes and then decided that life was more fun without plans. He picked up one of the globes and sauntered into the maze, moving slowly and taking the time to look around. The fireflies darted away from him or went dark every time he drew near them, which wasn't a problem at first. He was happy to enjoy his surroundings, unusual as they were. It wasn't even too cold, so he felt no need to rush.

Eventually, though, he had to catch some fireflies. He did his best to hide, to sneak up on them, but just when he'd think he could snatch one out of the air, it would go out and he'd be left empty-handed. They were magic! Clearly they had some unearthly ability to avoid small Glass dragons. Even when he pretended to be disinterested, Llachar couldn't sneak up on them. He tried for many minutes, growing steadily more frustrated and steadily more careless. Finally, he leapt for a dragonfly and missed entirely, faceplanting into the wall of the maze. He remembered two things at once: he was supposed to be chasing fireflies, no matter how interesting and distracting that dragonfly had been, and also: what was a dragonfly doing here in the middle of winter? He shook his head ruefully, reminding himself to stay on task-- no pondering dragonflies, right now.

He stood in the middle of the path, completely disheartened, wings drooping sadly at his sides. A flirefly lit nearby and he snapped at it, but it buzzed out of the way. Llachar sighed deeply.

"How am I supposed to catch you, little bugs?" he asked the population at large. No answer was forthcoming, and he dropped his hindquarters, the very picture of dejection. He even set the globe down, and then raised his head to watch the pretty fireflies. One flickered past his nose and he sniffed softly at it without moving. In response, it danced around in his breathe, thrown off-course ever so slightly. Llachar snorted at it again and it flew away. As he watched it go, several others looped by, approaching him as long as he didn't move too quickly.

He raised a paw slowly and cupped it palm up, then raised his other paw and held it near the other. When a firefly flew between his paws, he closed them softly and brought them to the glass container. Using his tail to half-cover it and hope nothing would escape, he caught four more fireflies before he decided they lit the globe perfectly. Picking up the globe, he made his way the rest of the way through the maze.

At the end of the maze sat the lady for whom they were all competing, as calm as she'd been when she'd sent them in the other side. Llachar was fidgety, antsy because he was an antsy dragon and also because of the season and the pretty lady dragons and life was just very exciting right now. But the lady had asked him a question, and he had an answer.

"I learned that fireflies are hard to catch," he said, grinning, but then continued more seriously, "And that sometimes you have to be patient and let what you want come to you, rather than chasing after it. I thank you for the lesson, my lady," he said with a bow and set the globe at her feet. Then he stepped back to stand next to the other suitors to await the Rosemary's attention.
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SemperMemor
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Wings descended around him as two more suitors arrived. His heart pulsed a beat all too palpable, a sound so loud and heavy that he was certain it was audible enough for the others to hear. Instinct screamed at him to be gone, to retreat far, far away from this place. How could he be wanted in such a setting? Anxiety welled up like a spring, flooding his senses into a dire fight-or-flight response. It overwhelmed him as quickly as it had been provoked, quite on accident. Madness crept through his bones as they had just a few months prior, a sickness so consuming in it's merciless path that it left no room for rational thought. None of the males seemed to mean him harm from an outsider's standpoint, bu,t he had no true knowledge of their intentions. His body curled in on itself, wings folding tightly against his marred hide to protect what little vulnerable flesh he had left. There wasn't much left of him to be a terrible adversary if someone decided to dispatch him, not that he would give a very valiant effort to begin with.

A kind voice stopped him in his sudden madness, bringing forth a focal point upon which he could, if only for a moment, concentrate long enough bring him back to earth. He took a deep breath and bowed slightly at her gentle words of acceptance. Old habits died hard, he supposed, but even then he could not fully shake the trembling from his muscles. He blinked a few times, leaned back on his haunches, and tried to steady his heart from the lingering woe. Small ears swiveled forward to hone in on the young Rosemary's instructions. Her task seemed fairly simple to him, but the catch, unfortunately, came in the latter. His eyes glazed over at the thought. Being philosophical wasn't hard, though it was certainly an odd request for a Flight. Most females weaved a siren's hymn and called for a fast chase or run. Some had their suitors craft them something, others had physical fights. However, given the dragoness' unique sort of creativity and outlook, she shouldn't have been terribly surprised that her Flight, too, was a bit unorthodox.

At her behest, he arose from his less than comfortable sitting position and regarded the maze behind her with a mildly curious look. Pinpoints of fallible light roved in the inner darkness of it's pathway, illuminating the construction with a whimsical, almost hallowed atmosphere. Anastesia made her timely departure a moment later with some final words of wisdom. He eyed her carefully as she disappeared into the gloom and began to slowly inching away from the other suitors when her shadow finally had left. His hands found their way around the orb directly in front of him before he did so, grasping the handle gently between marred jaws. The Glass lingered far toward the rear of the entering party, one of the last in line, before making his way carefully into inner sanctum of the Rosemary's web. The was little way of knowing which was the right path, but, having been assured that many eventually led to the clearing she had specified at the other end, he followed the south-facing path.

His footpads crunched brittle leaves as he slowly ambled forward. Puffs of heated air immediately cooled as he exhaled, generating small clouds of frozen water that dissipated into the dim, light-filtered ceiling of the Jungle's embrace. Strings of silk kept most of the branches at bay, allowing the large dragon to walk with little obstruction.The glass urn bapped lightly against his neck's scales while he walked in an awkward fashion. His healing right forelimb was not terribly accustomed to standing for long periods of time, leading to an eventual limp that staggered his gait to a slow, unsightly pace. Aside from the very entrance of the maze that were swept up by the suitors prior to him, he had yet to see any additional fireflies, a fact that become increasingly troubling as the din within began to swallow him. It became increasingly frustrating as the creature carried forward and the pathway swerved around a tight bend. His talons knocked against a protruding set of roots in his blind haste, tripping him slightly into a slightly splayed posture as he caught himself. Glass clattered against his neck and jaws, the empty orb heavily disturbed by his fumble. A grimace sprung across his features. What a terrible mess he was. His eyes narrowed as he lifted his head to stare at the presentation before him.

The route split around the corner into three separate junctions. His only eye capable of distinguishing much of the world around him squinted. None of them seemed to harbor any of the vital insects that were required for this task from his current standpoint. At least, none that he could see. He heaved a heavy sigh and, after a moment of quiet despair, picked the leftmost hall. The dragon's feet steadied themselves with a grating sound of unused machinery, the scales clattering with distaste against their master's bidding. He ambled slowly further along the pathway. It began to twist and bend in an incomprehensible manner, further splitting as the length wore on. By the time that the Glass found himself facing the unscalable wall of silk, he had perhaps passed several branches. He made to spin wildly around with a low gasp at his misfortune, only to feel a terrible lance of pain as his right forelimb's hooked talons became caught in a series of rooted branches. The dragon panicked with a start and attempted to wrench it from it's twisted prison, but the act only caused him further bouts of stinging pain.

He caved at a feat so simple it all but overwhelmed him. Panic consumed him with renewed ire, casting his vision into red and flinging his mind free of the protective boundaries he had set himself. His heart pounded, body beginning to thrash with unadulterated terror. Limbs smacked into the ground to wrench soil high, his wings battering the silk-covered trees. His jaws snapped open to release the orb's handle by accident. It landed in the soft earth, narrowly avoiding his stomping feet.

Why was he even here! he howled at himself. Hisses erupted from his flared nostrils in tandem to his gnashed teeth, but his mind never ceased in it's berating toil. It had been for nothing. He had lost at the hands of a mere tree. Oh, what a folly this was. His throat pulsed with molten glue that threatened to seep through his teeth. He clamped his jaws shut to preserve it, but he was powerless to stop it from leaching through his gums. Strings of it hit the air and began to cool immediately as it was flung far, creating his own sort of enrapturing web that stuck to his hide and shattered as it became hard. A hard snap broke the pained frenzy of the cramped clearing as the root broke, but the released momentum caused him to fly backwards, sending his body in a one-way course into the tangled growth of the Rosemary's strong web.

He crashed into the cold earth with a dull thump and the tinkling of broken glass particles as scales fled from his hide in the fall. Patches of them were already missing from his flanks, but the renewed blow only served to widen them further into an unsightly landscape of battered bruises and bare skin. His chest heaved from his previous efforts. A deep groan escaped the dragon's jaws, his head spinning and dizzy from the clash against the rock-hard soil. He cracked his seeing eye open and stared up at the ceiling of the jungle's entangled canopy. His eyelids drooped low, mauled lips forming into an unattractive grimace. He had been overcome by the environment before he had even gotten the chance to complete his task. How stupid he had been to think that he would ever best those healthy suitors. The Rosemary was not his. No female would ever be again. His chest constricted into a tight knot as he lie there, uncertain of what should be done. He could leave in shame, but even now, as he stared blankly into the dim, he had no idea how that might even be possible. He couldn't fly out of here. He didn't know which path led to either of the exits. The dragon's eyes began to sting. How idiotic this venture had been.

A gentle aura hovered just out of direct vision. He nearly made to pass it off as his mind's no doubt returned hallucinations until it was accompanied by yet another. And another. His head lifted meekly from the ground to look at it, one eye narrowing to focus upon the rightmost pathway. Small pinpoints of light flitted in a lengthy group as they came around the bend. It was almost too good to be true, he nearly made to think but at the same time, his heart was reluctant to give rise to such hope. He sighed quietly and began to heave himself up from his tomb. His wings rustled like parchment paper as they settled, his limbs groaning in muted agony as they were put to grudging use once more. The lights flittered closer to him as he moved. He nearly made to snort in confusion before, perhaps on a desperate whim, began to test them. He raised one wing.

The insects buzzed closer together a definite swarm, but, despite their wariness, inched toward the wing with flickering curiosity. Fireflies were not known to approach figures that the might consider predators. The idea was ludicrous, certainly. Why would they do that? Perhaps they had been drugged for this. It was possible, he supposed, but entirely impractical for so many insects. He bent down to pick up the discarded orb and gently cupped the smooth surface before a sudden thought crossed his mind. Maybe they hadn't been drugged by the Rosemary, but by him? It didn't occur to him that the little creatures might have been following him (and thus, the reasoning behind his inability to see them) until now. His innate ability to inspire others was fickle at best, and normally not anything that could be relied upon. He had never attempted to see if it would work on beings other than humans and his own kin. He supposed it could have worked. It was the only thing that made some sort of sense in this oddity.

The Glass brought his wing back to his side. He wasn't quite sure what prompted him to do so, but he found his feet ebbing closer to the pathway that held the small creatures. The fireflies didn't seem to mind his approach. It was far the opposite, truly; minescule wings buzzed a pleasant tattoo as they closed the gap between dragon and insect and began to flit around him like some sort of wild attraction. His gaze followed the yellow-green lights as they drooped lower from their lofty reign. Some landed upon his back, others were a little more cautious and merely skittered around him upon wing. Crimson eyes focused upon one in particular that landed at the end of his snout. The corners of his mouth tugged on their own accord as that same stinging feeling pricked his chest and throat once more.

He bade them no threat as he stood impeccably still, simply watching them as a stone gargoyle might survey a city from it's stoic outcropping. These creatures were utterly blind to the churning emotions of their lingering companion. They had no ability to offer him words of comfort or jeers of hatred. They didn't care. Why would they? But yet, the little insects roved over his body and hovered around him with complete peace. Being welcome, or at the very least accepted, had never been something he had truly experienced...until very recently. The realization brought a fresh upwelling of stark memories from the abysmal crags that still lingered in his mind's eye. His vision clouded over A birth he had not been welcomed. Hatching day often proved a wondrous event, but even then, that day had not brought with it the same sort of joyous elation that his sibling and peers had. She had scoffed at him, berated him for his size and lack of fighting spirit, and rarely ever complimented him. It had set the tone for many years to come, eventually leading to her own, explosive demise. He hadn't deserved such treatment, he bitterly added. He had had nothing wrong to earn her distaste aside from merely being himself. It hadn't been fair.

Life was not fair, he was quick to jest, but... there were people that saw past the deeds of one's past and focused upon the present. So blind to the possibility he had been, so consumed in his self-imposed misery that he had been incapable of seeing the things as they were. The artist of this labyrinth came to mind immediately. She had never been cruel to him, never unjust in her judgement. So long had he been without a friend that he had lost the ability to recognize it when people believed in him. She was fair, kind, and trusting, much like the glowing inhabitants of her maze that greeted him now. His chest heaved, gasping with the effort. His hands deftly grasp the orb before him and removed the lid.

Even if could not win her favor in this Flight, he could certainly try to make it out to tell her how much her behavior toward of him had mattered. He held it up at level before him for the fireflies to inspect. A few were curious enough to land upon the rim of the construct and scuttle inside with the gentle pitter-patter of tiny feet upon the smooth surface. He didn't feel the need to capture more than those that had voluntarily entered their temporary transport. When six had carefully found their way inside the sphere the dragon placed the lid back into it's frosted housing and took up the handle in his jaws once more.

Finding the clearing that the Rosemary resided patiently in was not a terrible task once the dragon resolved himself to a steady rhythm. His heart stilled it's anxious pounding in relaxed resolve while he backtracked and ventured around unexplored bends. Ten minutes of stiff searching found the soil beneath his toes giving way to soft grass. The canopy above retracted, giving rise to a bountiful moon under which resided a meditating Anastesia. His legs quietly carried him the rest of the way to her audience and buckled at the cessation of the journey. He leaned back quickly on his haunches to correct himself from falling face-first into the grass before her feet and, with an apologetic chagrin, lowered the vessel of gently-pulsating fireflies for her to inspect.

Finding his voice took a bit of ushering, but, once he had finally caught it in his throat, began a steady monologue. "Regardless of whether or not I win your favor today," the Glass began, "I will walk away with a head held higher than when I entered. You have inadvertently given me the opportunity to find my sense of hope within your labyrinth." The dragon paused for a moment to reflect. With a heavy, relieving sigh, he continued, "Many still wish to harbor me ill, and I will never blame them for doing so, but it was your rare, unwavering sense of kindness and compassion that has proven to me that there are individuals out there worth living for. Thank you, for all that you have done for me."
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It wasn’t long after his skeptical query that the Rosemary graced each suitor with a welcoming gesture and warmhearted words. Each she addressed by name, a courtesy offered by the suitors she was not familiar with. All save him. ‘Sir Chaos’ she called him by and, in his mind, likely for the betterment of her fortunes. He was no more than a sentient jinx after all, accursed by the very runes which wrought his marbled form. To know his name was to take up the same burden he bore, the attrition of one’s soul and the blackening slander cast upon everything in his wake. It was this that held his tongue from announcing himself, this belief that spared her from uncovering the true calamity he embodied.

Irises carved from rosen quartz studied the strange female’s movements, analyzed her challenge with pragmatic deconstruction of her peculiar ways. The task she proposed and laid at the feet of her challengers was simple in its complexity, drowning in its metaphorically vast depths. Mazhrekan’s intimidating spread of spines down his back tensed reflexively, driven by the unconscious surge of neurons commanding muscles into movement despite his mind being lost in its own mesmerizing musings. The other suitors had already overtaken him into the depths of the maze, leaving him as the last to collect the exquisitely spun glass container required of the assignment ahead.

Three heavily taloned paws padded forth unbidden, a carefully orchestrated pinion matching the gait he set as his fourth limb to complete the calibrated momentum. His progress into the thicket of elegantly woven trees was slow, gaze drifting over the threads of pearlescent silk that strung the canopies into a effervescent waves of pale moonlit grandeur. It was a peaceful setting even for his grim mind, a tranquil panorama that easily divested the stress and harsh conflict often brought forth in the heat of a female’s flight. The silver glinting off millions of strands contrasted the golden glow of flickering fireflies, creating a world of mystical splendor, a pleasant distraction for the Chaos’ own muddled mentality.

For what felt like eons he shuffled along the pathways, enamored by not only the flashing insects that had been preserved in the maze’s gently cradling embrace, but the serenity it had encaptured as well. So lost to his mind’s own ministrations that he’d almost forgotten why he had arrived in the labyrinth entirely, until the near dropping of his blown orb from his slacking jaws returned him to the present. Quickly, he secured his grip with scissoring fangs once more, amusingly without cracking the artisan glass. Mazhrekan, awoken from his meandering stupor, was faced with the conundrum of how to catch that which was both nimbler and more mobile than he himself could hope to be whilst grounded.

Pupils narrowed in their perplexity, lost as to how he would ever outwit the so-called lesser flying beings that flitted about the wooded trails. The piebald specter snaked his neck into a fine arc, giving pause before sinew uncoiled like a striking snake, flexing in the swift attack that attempted to capture the elusive fireflies drifting in devious defiance of his endeavor. He guessed before even checking that his careless attempt had netted no gain in the forged cage, still empty as the internalized hopes he held for his own redemption, for his own assuagement. Nostrils flared in agitation at what should be a straightforward strategy, had he the proper pair of forelimbs to complete the apprehension of his intended prey.

Mounting frustration and self-depreciation built until the pent up energy reaching its breaking point, flaring the projected scriptures’ vibrance in a discharge of conjured pandemonium. An intangible, invisible shockwave of elemental chaos bloomed from the dragon’s form, adding weight to the air, viscosity that once was nonexistent in the gases morphed to the temporary resistance of a liquid while ground that once felt firm took on the feeling of standing upon unconstrained air.

The Chaos blinked back the tidal waves of pain wracking his figure, the arcane exertion taking its toll without the override of adrenaline to pad its traumatic aftershock. Unwitting maw spread fracturing punctures into the jar’s carefully constructed handle, the only gag to stave off the urge to spill the onslaught of suffering into earth-shattering roars. Soon enough the racking waves subsided, salmon eyes splitting open slowly to a strange, quizzical sight. The emblazoned bugs had swam to him on their own accord, drawn like moths to flame with the pulsing glow of his runes. Scrawls of crimson veined with mines of gold lured the fireflies with enrapturing radiance.

Taken aback, Mazhrekan thought surely there was some trick with their flocking numbers, another warping of his wild powers which shifting the gravitational pull for the tiny creatures. He rose from his haunches, shambling forward in a determined pace that would, he hoped, break the stranglehold he had taken over the innocent lives. Uncannily, they did not follow as if tethered unwillingly. Instead, they waited curiously in place while the shifting runes they had congregated around slid away as if curious where the points of light had suddenly vanished to. Then, just as slowly, they began to trail after him once they’d re registered the changed location of their collective interest. Thrice more the Chaos ambled several meters before pausing, gauging quietly the repeated following he had accidentally acquired.

It was thus he entered the final chamber of the labyrinth’s end, crowned head held high in a regal stance as he arrived with what dignity he could manage, cloak of erratically flickering gilded dots following fleetingly in his footsteps. Just as in the Flight’s beginning, the other four had found the lady first, the bloody hued Glass’ speech tapering to an end. He stood in thoughtful silence once again, contemplating the last transmission Anastasia had sought from her suitors.

Carefully as a master linguist contrived the consonants and vowels they wished to leave as a parting gift, the dragon of ruby-glazed obsidian and ghostly alabaster spoke his parting piece, “Web-weaver, you have shown us all a sight that none could ever aspire to equal on this night. I fear I am the least worthy of your considerations, as I’ve failed to complete your first decreed command with the glass globes you had so generously provided. But, in my failure, your friends of the forest have shown me a new light in their pursuing ways. A light that may yet convince me that my power is not as accursed as I am so inclined to believe, a light that might shed some measure of conviction to those that say my broken state and splintered powers may yet heal, may yet endure.”

“It is also hope I glean from your maze’s venture. A hope not for redemption, for that is likely beyond my grasp, but for reconstruct of foundations that I believed to deeply ravaged to rebuild upon. If these simple creatures can blindly trust the illumination that I would have deemed their demise without any rebounding recoil, then perhaps not all is lost for the Chaos known as Mazhrekan.” His rumbling voice ground to a halt, ramblings fading away as he allowed the Rosemary to take the floor, inherently assured that her choice lay with another, but her enlightenment had surely touched them all.
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Anastesia listened to the sounds of the forest around her. She let her mind dwell on her own breathing, her consciousness spread to let thoughts wash over her as waves wash over the shore. She had created for herself a place of peace and with it given that gift to her suitors. Time passed and she did not mark it. This was not about speed; she had devised her test that way. Patience was a virtue she prided herself on and yet she found again and again the rush of her veins and the flutter of her heart drew her away from the stillness of her meditation. It was unbearably hard to maintain the stillness she usually delved into without trouble. It would have been abstractly frustrating, if there was not a fine prize waiting at the end of her self construed game.

From time to time she heard something from deep within her maze, the scramble of a large beast in the trees, the click of claw and glass. It gave her the peace of mind that the suitors had not fled at the challenge she had presented them. In time she could hear them gathering, the soft footfalls in the still night were drawing nearer. It was the voice of Lalaithion that brought her fully back from her own self reflection.

With his greeting eight gems of black fluttered open on her head. Her pedipalps stretched and folded against her chin as she listened to his offering in silence. He moved through the subjects as he moved through life, with a quickness and joy befitting of his personality. He spoke of a great many things and she was impressed by the amount he had considered. Then just as quickly as he had presented his offering he released the little lights back into the maze. Two smaller sets of eyes followed the insects as they vied for freedom. With his completion he bowed her head, showing she acknowledged his answer but made no move to speak. That could wait until she had seen the others.

The next was the rosemary with his simple coloring, however she had long ago decided the outer shell that housed a dragon was not as important as what rested in their hearts. His wisdom was far more focused and she received it with the same meditative silence that she had met the first. However when he clutched the orb to his chest protectively she had to laugh. The sound was soft and gentle as her demeanor, weaving with the moonlight as mirth danced in her many eyes. Her small hands shifted from their previous formation to show one of delight. “Be at peace if I desired to eat them I would have done so upon their capture and chosen a different challenge.” Her hands dropped to her chest, one cradling the other in its palm. The spider like dragoness did not ask for the lantern, if he felt so strongly about the insects she felt he should keep them. She made no other words on his wisdom. That would wait.

The third arrival was the young glass. His vessel glowed as he presented it and his wisdom caused her mind to whirl. It was again narrow and quite a fine thought. He was sweet in gesture and word, and she quite liked that. She thrummed softly in her throat, quite pleased with everything she was hearing. The suitors who had found her were exactly what she was hoping for. One long leg extended to straighten the jar so the clasp faced her and then it was left be to wait. Already she was realizing that the task of choosing would be quite difficult. Every single male had done as asked and brought back wisdom that she could ponder for days. Upon the bow she returned it with an incline of her own head.

The second glass followed the first, though he seemed as if he had a harder time of it. She wondered if the distressed noises she had heard rising from the forest had been him. As if to confirm her assumption he stumbled. The healer in her almost launched into action, but she stilled her body. This was her flight, not time to be tending wounds she reminded herself. If ever there was a time for selfishness surly now was it, besides there was no sense wounding his pride when he had come so far. Thankfully he recovered and finished his trek to stand before her. Her many eyes met his when he began to speak and her antenna flicked in consideration. Her fingers curled as if wishing to form a mudra but she stopped herself. There was no need right now. She was grateful for his words, and impressed at the rawness of what he confessed before the other suitors. Again that alabaster claw slipped out to adjust the vessel so the latch faced her current position and she bowed her head low in acceptance.

The chaos finished out their numbers walking from the forest like a spirit of light. The fireflies flocked to his runes and gave him a beautiful cape that rivaled the moon for beauty. Her eyes widened in surprise for surely this was anything but what she had expected. It was quite an entrance to be sure. His vessel was empty, though in the wake of his flock she hardly seemed to care. Her chin lifted and it was obvious several sets of eyes must be on his halo of slowly dancing insects. The main set fixed on his rose eyes as he spoke and she listened with care. Another very raw confession and she found herself reflecting inwardly. Slowly she bowed her head showing her approval and acceptance.

Her heart pounded and her head spun with all the collected thoughts they had brought her. Each she might savor for later. As much as she wished to ponder them now, her body near quivered with an ancient need which pulsated through her, demanding a choice. She took each in one by one, the forest whom she had met several times before, the rosemary with whom she worked, the flirtatious glass whom she had only just met, the damaged male of the same breed seeking himself, and the chaos seeking to start again. She felt each deserved her thoughts. Each deserved something from her in return for how well they had done on the thoughtful quest she had given them.

So she rose, because she felt compelled to. Her small hands formed a thankful mudra as her eyes considered her suitors. “Many thanks, to each of you. I can tell that every one of you gave my task great weight. I must say that for all of you I hope that you find my approval is the lesser of the gifts you have hopefully gained tonight, for my blessing lasts but a night while such thoughts may thrive forever.”

She turned first towards Lalaithion and offered him a smile, “Friend you had many great thoughts tonight, all of them worth thinking on, but you jump so quickly from one to the other I wonder which you put the most time into. I am grateful for your presence, I am so gladdened that you enjoyed it.”
Next her attention swung to Llachar “Kind glass you are correct. I find the best things come with patience, however I am not to be thanked for the lesson, you came upon it on your own.”

Third she turned to Lichen and she smiled brightly. She reached out and touched the jar and pressed it softly to his chest. “We cannot always help everyone, but to take the time to free even a few burdens of the soul is perhaps greater then fixing bodies. I would be happy if you released these ones you have saved outside. The rest I will gather and take back to where I found them later. I would not part you from something you care so deeply about.”

She turned from him and approached the chaos next, one set of eyes dwelled for a moment on his missing limb, but she drew away from it. The wound was old and had healed, the fact he did so well without it was something to be inspired by. She was impressed by him, not frightened, “Where you failed in capturing the fireflies you still brought me quite the offering. Without a cage you brought me an abundance of light in the darkness. Know not all will recoil from you. I would be happy to make your acquaintance if you will find the time to sit with me, Mazhrekan. No one is beyond redemption, no matter how heinous their crime, if they regret and strive to amend then there is nothing holding you back, but yourself.”

It was then she turned to Gloire. Her hands formed a considering mudra as she stepped to him and stopped. Here she breathed a moment as if in consideration. Her eyes swept his damaged form and she formed a peaceful mudra in the span where she could not find words. “What you have found Gloire is beyond what I could have given. For in the span of your wandering you found self worth. I cannot be held responsible for such a great discovery. You must rejoice in the struggle you bested to find it for I can see it has not been an easy road.” Her eyes swirled to the others once more. “I make my choice here. For you have discovered something that everyone must. You have realized that you matter in the world and that is the greatest wisdom that anyone can hold. It gives us a reason to persist when all else leaves us.”

She stepped backwards, careful as she eased over the jars. The two she had received she opened, letting the little lights regain their freedom. In their escape she smiled and breathed in the night. Cold air filled her lungs and expelled as the fireflies crawled to the lips of their prisons and with a hum of wings took flight.

Her eyes turned to the other males. “I wish you peace in your journeys and I hope you will rise to other females and find in them that which I could not grant to you.” She bowed to them each in turn, as if it had been her honor to have each and every one of them there. Her eyes slipped to Gloire and she beckoned with small hands, calling him to her with serenity. Her heart pounded and her body sang. She felt wholly certain in her choice despite the hesitation of the suitor.
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His pulse beat a hallowed tattoo that threatened to swallow him in it's tenor, but while he was very much a nervous wreck at the immediate attention, the Glass knew that he would be little worse for wear if she ultimately passed him over for someone else. He had been true to his word. Regardless of her choice, he would be...alright, at least for the time being. The very thought of such a word was foreign and lacked definitive taste in his mind. It had been long since the status of anything near moderate stability had graced his battered heart. It would take some time getting used to. Much to his relief, the dragoness did not dwell upon his display for very long. Her attention, understandably required her to reflect upon everyone as they entered.

The Glass turned slightly to count the present males, making note that only four had surfaced from her labyrinth. There had been a fifth, he knew well. He had made the spheres given to her. Had the last suitor gotten lost, as he had? His answer came moments later when a flicker of movement caught his attention out of the corner of his peripheral vision. Gentle, pulsating lights filled his vision as their weavers ascended peacefully into the night air. It was an odd sight to witness the small insects dance behind and around their chosen host's own beacons, a similar sort of display from what that he had encountered only half an hour prior. He feared to steady his gaze upon the Chaos at their helm, but he was certain enough that no harm would ever come to him from Mazhrekan if he did nothing to deserve it. The pied creature soon presented his task's accomplishment to the young Rosemary, further explaining what he had also retrieved from the challenge. The Glass listened quietly as the other male spoke of himself in a similar light. It feel eerily familiar, perhaps enough so to set his troubled mind to reflection.

Anastesia's soft voice broke his stream of consciousness after a moment of her own internalized meditation. She carried forward on four pairs of limbs with a surety that so often escaped the same individuals of her generation. Her words began to weave a comforting ballad that found it's way into their attentive ears. His heart stilled a fraction, the very sound almost dampening the nervousness that fueled it's relentless beating. He would not have thought in his Tainted years that one day he might be comforted by so small and fragile a creature. She barely came to his knees in height, so small that, if he had wished to impart cruelty, could have dispatched her without much difficulty. He shuddered at the backhanded thought creep into his mind, but he could not stave off the idea that he would have been in utter disbelief that a simple voice could so calm a storm.

So consumed in his quiet struggle that he failed to notice her initial words to her other suitors. She passed them, one by one, instilling a form of compassionate advice. His vision focused as he turned, at last, to him, and spoke. The name stuck out like a sore thumb, further rousing him, but it was not until she addressed him so directly that he became absorbed in what she was telling him. His head fell to her eye level with a measure of besotten humbleness that might have ushered a form of color to his face if it were at all possible. His chest constricted anew, the tight, prickling sensation from before returning with a definite vengeance upon his hapless state. It took the remaining energy from his bones to keep himself in a composed manner beneath her attention.

When at last Anastesia's voice ebbed away and her smaller sets of hands released the fireflies from their glittering containers, a wave of confusion overcame the Glass behemoth. His eyes narrowed, his heart quickening in it's fervor. She had not clearly stated her winner, at least from what he could recall, but she did not move toward any other suitor once she addressed the last of them. His gaze flitted nervously to the departing figures of the other males. He didn't dare hope, nor quite comprehend, that he had truly won the Rosemary's favor; but yet, they retreated, none lingering past what was required of them. The Glass returned his attention to the female before him. Had he heard her correctly?

He nearly made to question her judgement before a pair of small hands reached forward and formed a beckoning gesture. So absent had he been in his musings that he had failed to comprehend the gravity of the situation. It appeared that he had, indeed, won the Rosemary's heart this evening, to which he could only balk. His jaw parted, hanging almost limply in it's sockets to gape with incredulity at Anastesia. Never would he have been so bold as to think that he could have ousted his competition, never would he have thought to have been found worthy as a mate. The rage and loathing from his last memories of mating upwelled with a violent explosion. His chest tightened, vision faltering in a dizzying haze.

"I...I-I," he stuttered, and perhaps for the first time in three decades he found himself utterly speechless. The Glass planted his feet more firmly upon the frosted grass and ground his teeth. He could not let these conflicting emotions get the better of him again. He knew, though much pain and triumph in the past few days, that he deserved a second chance at a life. If he harbored no ill toward others again, what harm could he inflict from taking a mate again; a mate, this time, that was fully willing to accept him where he stood. His eyes stung and, for the moment, he didn't hasten to soothe the pin-pricked feeling.

The Glass twisted the surge of emotion into the only way he truly knew how to channel it. He leaned back onto his haunches and cupped his forehands around his jaws. The movement issued a renewed ache deep within his body, but he ignored it, and delved quickly into his work without a sound. A small wad of molten glue traveled up the length of his throat and oozed from his mouth into the awaiting digits. While his hands quickly worked the white-hot orb into it's new shape, he concentrated as much magic as he could into the core. He had never tried to accomplish this feat before, not that he had had reason to do so in the past. Novelties did not win a violent war and offered little in the way of amusement to a single-minded machine.

The Glass lowered himself back to a crouch when he finished, extending forth a single talon to present the Rosemary with his efforts. A clear, crystalline insect in miniature clung to the tip of the blunt nail with gentle pedipalps, still very warm and glowing with heat in it's abdomen. It twitched at his behest, tiny wings fluttering minutely with a creative energy born only of it's artist's innate, ancient power. As the dragon released a held breath upon the glass firefly, it's warmth dimmed, and found itself airborne long enough to gently land in Anastesia's open palm. "The magic won't last very long. It will solidify upon cooling," he explained. The firefly began to grow stiff in the cool air, soon loosing the inner glow that had illuminated the dragoness' palm only moments before. He gaze alleviated from the small insect to the dragoness' obsidian eyes. Too many were there to focus upon all at once, but he knew that her main pair, at the very least, were more than capable of staring clearly back at him. ""I'm afraid I can't seem to find my voice very well this evening, but I wish to give you this, to show you at least a small token of my appreciation," the dragon continued. "I would be honored and humbled for you to take me as a mate."
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