ORIGIN

When at last he tumbled into clumsy flight, the other dragon had crawled into a hiding hole.

Haven's babbling was irritating him; it meant he had to pay attention to words and he didn't like those all that much. To 'I don't see your NAME ON IT!' he responded with another ear-cracking roar, though he was already puzzling, mid-roar, over what that meant. When she followed it up by claiming to be blind (which he had not realized, nor did he care), this only added to his confusion.

"HOW WOULD MY NAME BE ON IT?" he roared, and then--baffled, but immediately switching tactics--"MY NAME IS ON IT!" Oh. OH! HE KNEW THIS ONE. "I WROTE IT?"

Is that right? Astraea had promised to teach them to read and write, but hadn't ever actually done that, but he was pretty sure that's how it worked. Or was it read-? Dread panicked, for a moment, trying to figure out if he should have read his name on things, or written it. He was pretty sure it was the latter, but to be sure--"I OWN READING AND WRITING! THEY ARE MINE!"

As for her other insults, he paid them no need. He didn't know, or care, nor was he bothered to answer, about that whole "pride" or "honor" or "pathetic" thing. He was busy unevenly flying--the stiffness still lingering heavily--toward the hole into which Haven had crawled to hide, from overhead.

And while she cared to yell insults, Dread only inspected it, looking for a way inside. Not for himself, but for his magic.

"YOU ARE STILL YELLING, WHEN I COULD KILL YOU AND EAT YOU," he roared. His black body, patterned with magma-lit tattoos, flashed by in a streak; his tail, its spade tip razor-sharp, slashed into the rock face as he passed. Imbued with magic it crashed into the rock, enough to set the whole rock face trembling, a potentially deadly cascade threatening. But he did not yet smash it fully: this was a threat, a looming death, a promise that he could follow through.

"TELL ME THIS IS MY CAVE!" he demanded, "AND THAT YOU WILL NOT TELL ME WHERE TO GO, AND THEN WE LEAVE EACH OTHER ALONE." In a rare moment of wisdom, he even thought ahead: "MY DAUGHTER CAN FIX BURNS." (Dread had no idea of the consequences of this, or perhaps he'd not have offered.) "OR I CAN CRUSH YOUR CAVE WITH YOU INSIDE IT. AND THEN EAT YOU," he added, though it was entirely unclear how that would work.

Her mate was in there-? Dread's eyes narrowed as he circled, trying to find a place to perch his stiff limbs. But the cliff face was sheer, and he was forced to stay overhead--careful to not fly in front of the opening, where magic might strike him.

He had thought her mate was territorial, and this is why she had initially demanded that he leave. Then why was it not attacking? How could he have nearly killed it, without it fighting back? His voice took on a deeper note, more of a growling roar than a screech, each flap of his wings beneath his words growing a little sturdier.

"YOU SAID TO LEAVE BECAUSE THIS WAS HIS PLACE. WHY IS HE NOT FIGHTING? WHY WERE YOU FIGHTING ALONE? WHY IS HE ALMOST DEAD?" Who the hell would leave family to fight alone..?

If she kept on as she was--hiding away, offering no threats--he'd likely toss a few final threats of his own, and leave. If she answered him, he did not know where her questions would lead him: to conversation? Reconciliation? He didn't know the answers, so he couldn't guess at that. He doubted she would threaten him or attack further; he was not striking at her now and in any case, he could do so again.

But the question did plague him: why would he have left her to fight alone?

So her mate was in a coma or something? Dread turned somewhat awkwardly, trying to watch the den below even as he circled. He was no longer roaring, but he had no inside voice, and his speech alone was still a shout.

"SOMETIMES THEY JUST DO THAT. THEY SLEEP," he half-bellowed. "WHY DOES HE NEED TO PROTECT YOU?" There was confusion in his voice. Children he understood, and family, but partners in his mind should hold their own. "YOU ARE PROTECTING HIS STONE," he then added, observing without any real meaning this strange reversal of Haven's expected events. She'd wanted protection, now she was guarding this sleeping chrysalis.

It occurred to him that she'd have been better off abandoning it, not to really abandon it but so as not to draw attention there if she retreated in a fight. Like now. But Dread, though violent and temperamental and very impulsive, though territorial and the list goes on, was not a vindictive sort, not the sort to go after the chrysalis and try to destroy it, or the like. He was still wary, but so long as his assumed dominance was not being actively challenged he fell back into his relatively benign and somewhat nosy nature.

"IF YOU GIVE ME A SHINY I'LL GUARD IT SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO." It didn't occur to him how insulting it might be, to try and trade with someone he'd just been in a brutal fight with. Someone he'd burnt, and mutually threatened.

In fact, he doubled down.

"IF YOU GIVE ME TWO, I WILL PROTECT YOU TOO. BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE MINE. OR MY FISH." He seemed wholly unconcerned with insult, as if thinking this the natural sort of conclusion to conflict. And maybe it was, in a sense; the attempt to lay boundaries, as bizarre as they might be, to prevent such conflict in the future.

His automatic observation of her body language pleased him. It wasn't that he was a sadist--far from it; but her misery and sagged body spoke to him of a victim, not an enemy. She wasn't broken, perhaps, but she wasn't about to attack him, or fight him, not yet; and that meant he was safe, for now.

Confident in this, and feeling no guilt whatsoever for the fight (which he certainly saw as mutual, given her initial threats), Dread took to this new normality without issue. It was over, in his mind. No grudge, the spat was done, territory was established. He didn't even think to ask if she was leaving Leo altogether--he didn't care if she did, or not, as long as this was acknowledged as his home.

And if they were living in his home, and acknowledging that he owned it, then he would guard them just like he guarded his own possessions, his own hunting grounds, and his prey. If they were a part of Leo, and gave him things, that was good enough for him.

He studied the crystals offered briefly.

"THEY'RE GOOD," he decided. He struggled to remember where he'd gotten the singing crystal, from, himself: a crystal that gave off a constant, quiet chiming. Had he found it, or traded for it? He'd long forgotten, now. These made noise only when tapped and he wondered if his other gemstones, and his gold, would make those noises too; but shine mattered far more to him than sound. "I LIKE GOLD MOST," he informed Haven, though it was mostly irrelevant to the situation.

"PUT THEM DOWN. I WILL PICK THEM UP." He was still flying, and trying to snatch crystals from her hand while bobbing up and down, with hind limbs, wasn't really likely to end well. He didn't want to drop them, or risk scratching her or worse, get bitten in the process.

Dread's gaze shifted to the den entrance, and his ember eyes narrowed. "I CAN'T MOVE THE WHOLE DEN," he said, studying it. It looked way too large for that. "I COULD BREAK IT INTO PIECES FIRST."

Was that what she meant-? He didn't think to question why she'd want her den shattered into bits and moved piecemeal. As long as he got his shinies.

Hind talons snatched up the crystals she'd set down, and Dread simply... flew away. It didn't occur to him to warn her first; but he only had two grasping limbs, and he could hardly move the nest and the crystals at the same time.

He swept off, wings canting and making rapid micro-adjustments to keep him airborn, curving slightly right and then up; a long glide and three swift, short flaps carried him to land atop his own den. He didn't think to hide his location, if even she could sense him at that distance.

Some moments later he glided back in, his movement mostly back to normal now, muscles surging with power as he switched into a hover--hindquarters and tail rocking forward as he slowed. Now he grasped the nest, and spoke. "WHERE IS SOMEWHERE? WHERE DOES IT GO?" he asked. He hadn't destroyed the current den; only set the rock face shaking, so he wasn't sure why she was moving now. Leaving her mate, maybe?

Maybe she'd decided he was too weak, and didn't want to be there anymore. But it was better anyway--in Dread's mind--as he'd reflected prior. Best not to lead others back to his helpless stone if she was fleeing a fight. He didn't comment on it, either way, instead hoisting the nest higher into the air. He regularly carried prey--cave deer and the like--and his form was massive. A hundred pounds was very little extra weight, to the dragon.

It didn't even occur to him, either, that this could be some sort of trap or trick. That the nest could hide dark magic, or something. He just assumed that Haven was being entirely truthful, if only because the idea of lying hardly occurred to the winged brute, himself.