"We can ask but they're real nice and I think they'd like you!" he assured, with the confidence that only a small child can have when deciding the character of someone they'd known for all of thirty seconds.

-The most skilled fisher-dragon in the caves?!

Blight blinked.

"HEY! I'm a fisher-dragon too! And I'm GOOD at fishing! I just--didn't know I wasn't blending in," he protested, turning to look over his green-gray wings.

The spinosaurus was diving, then, and he turned, pushing up quickly and wing-walking to the water's edge to watch. He could see her shape, slipping lower: a dark silhouette far more graceful beneath the shimmering surface than it had been waddling on land.

She's like flying, but in the water. A water-dragon, he decided--and he was equating the Spinosaurus herself to flying, not her action, somehow. But when she came up and fought--and failed to stop--the fish, he recoiled from its thrashing, wincing. It was a larger fish than he'd have tried, and he just watched it go with a few startled blinks. "That was BIG. And I think you're a WATER dragon, not a land-dragon! You were flying but underwater," Blight matter-of-factly explained.

He then turned, and eyed the water a little slyly. "Stay here a minute. Don't eat anything 'till I say, okay?" he said, and then concentrated very hard.

Absolutely nothing happened, and after a minute he squeaked. "Okay, never mind. It's not working. It never does," he added, sadly.

He then looked to Glaive, abruptly more interested, and asked: "Hey, do you have magic?!"

Blight listened, though half his attention seemed to be taken by a very clumsy attempt to get his right hind leg up over his right wing to scratch himself behind the horns. Eventually he seemed to realize, or remember, that it had to go under the wing, and settled back after a good scratch, more attentive, now.

He seemed to fully tune in about the time Glaive spoke of fish turning red--or maybe that's just what got his attention, the most; his face lit up with interest.

"Whoa! You can make the fish turn red?!" he cried, obviously impressed. "Wh--can I see?!"

He turned, scanning the rippling water, eyes bright for any sign of red fish--enthusiasm for this new trick, and eagerness to see it, taking him over wholly.

One fish flicking close to the surface drew his attention, and he squinted and tried to cast out magic at it; nothing happened, though, and he quickly gave up and turned his gaze back to the rest.

Blight looked into the water.

He looked at Glaive.

He looked at the fish, again.

Was she playing tricks on him? Teasing him, somehow? He saw nothing resembling a glow. After a moment, uncertain, he gave her the benefit of the doubt--and as someone who'd been on the receiving end of Bug's pranks, for awhile, that was perhaps admirable. Or naive.

"I don't see any glow," he said, at last, peering back into the lagoon again. "I don't see anything at all. Just fish." It didn't occur to him, as it hadn't occurred to Glaive, that maybe only she could see it.

He was wondering if maybe she was imagining things, instead.

The little dragon gave a shrug. But he was ready for another attempt at fishing, himself, nonetheless. The cold had mostly worn off, at least as much as it could, here; and he jumped into the air, and rose up with beats of his leathery wings. "I'm hungry," he explained; "I'm gonna try again. But your way. Kinda."

Then Blight-... flew away. He arrowed off into the distance, lithe and surprisingly fast for something so small. When he reappeared a moment later, it was in a furiously-flapping arrow toward the water's surface, at an angle.

Just before he hit the sparkling reflections, he seemed to suddenly go dark, swathed in shadows--and then his wings folded tight against his body and he vanished, barely-visible, with a small splash. All in all his return and dive had taken only a second or two--and Glaive, with her red sense active, might have been able to track him.

His swift, deeper dive, the arc back up, his momentum and a slight twist of his wings, and bouyancy, flicking up upward like a diving seabird. Blight's shadows actually hid him, this time, now that he was coming up from beneath--a gift, it seemed, in tactics from his new Spinosaurus friend--and when he shot back up out of the water, slower than before and with a cascade of diamond-like water sheeting off him like a shampoo commercial, he had a smallish fish in his mouth.

Wings arced and he curved down, landing with a wet 'thwap' not far off Glaive. This time, lesson learned, he did not let the fish go, instead battering it for a moment against the rock (really, he should've known better last time). When it went still he split it, and then wing-waddled over to Glaive, tossing her half. "I did it!" he told her, cold and breathless, still dripping. "We're FISHER-DRAGONS! -Have some fish."

Okay, so--calm down Glaive--the fish wasn't huge, and it wasn't SPECIAL. But wow, her enthusiasm had Blight proud! He puffed up, his small form near bolt-upright, every ragged fin along his spine standing happily on end. His natural reptilian smile seemed to curl higher, eyes bright and wide. Her enthusiasm had him prouder than he'd ever been, and he joined her excitement, tilting back his own head and roar-squealing out, himself: "FIIIISHER-DRAAAGONS!" He laughed, after, and then tossed back a couple bites of fish himself, pausing to ask--"-Are you okay?" and to order, close on its heels, "Don't die."

But she didn't die--thankfully; and he found himself wondering what he'd have done if her choking had gotten worse (he'd have to ask Dad about that). "I don't see any squiggly-things. Squigglies," Blight said, going back to the prior conversation as he licked the last of the fish-scales from his jaws. "Am I still red? It's weird magic. I can um. I can make stuff sick, with mine. I was TRYING to do it before to get a fish but it wouldn't work!" he complained. "But look, I can-... do this," he added, and rapidly wing-walked closer to Glaive.

His face scrunched up in focus.

For a moment, nothing happened--and then Blight paused, squinting. And groaned. "Oh noooo," he groaned, recognizing the feeling of rising, sudden nausea; "I think I made myself sick..."

He rapidly backed away, so as not to infect Glaive, and turned and dry-heaved briefly off to one side. "UGH! Does YOUR magic ever do this?! Just. Beat you up?!" he asked, with a tone that suggested he was rather indignant at its misbehavior.

Blight wasn't sure what Glaive meant by asking what'd come out of his mouth; he looked down, but he didn't see anything. "Nothing?" he asked, quizzically. Oh, CAVES but he felt sick-... He groaned, and turned his attention inward, trying to cleanse whatever the heck he'd done to himself. "Well, my magic beats me up." As if to remind him of past failings, his gut wrenched as something else inside him moved; the little parasite he'd accidentally conjured-... Oh, well.

"UUUGH. It's awful--I'm okay though. I don't think you can help--what do you mean, the lights?" he asked, almost instantly distracted, turning toward Glaive.

Bright green eyes studied her curiously. "Seeing dark spots sounds real helpful. Like, into the shadows, you mean?" he asked, thinking. "-Can you teach me that?"