The little dragon really should not have left Monoceros. That's where his family was; that's where protection was. But instinct was driving him farther.

The river back home was good, but the fish... something about the water... it was limiting. Instincts called to Blight, whispers in his dreams, a question: where were the seas? Where was the ocean of surging water, glittering bright beneath a sun he'd never known--or dark and ominous gray under looming thunderclouds?

His stomach had been roiling, a little, too: he was sure that it was probably a hunger for fish, specifically, and that the belly pain and general fatigue wasn't his backfiring magic from the other day. At least, he hoped.

In any case, this strange instinct sent him out, at last, a warning given to his family before he'd taken off on his own. He remembered having been told, before, of Pisces, and he knew vaguely how to get to it. He'd just have to keep an eye out for the ugly ones--for Alpha and whatever the Vargas was; but Blight (so he thought) could take care of himself.

He did his best to hide himself on the way into Pisces, flying as high as he could with shadows roiling over him to shroud his passage. The shadows were faint, and faded once he'd passed the tunnel--and once he'd arrived he circled through Pisces, lanky body coursing here and there along the cold winds. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't pleasant--he thought he preferred it a little warmer, though he liked the damp, at least. It was definitely a shift from Monoceros, and reminded him faintly of the tunnel in which he'd hatched.

Blight flew lower, inspecting the lagoon, the ponds; he swept low over them, green eyes flashing as he took stock. There were fish, here; and he swept up, circling again, and let out a happy screech that echoed through the cave.

Blight's pure naievety with a creature his size had never been tested. With larger beasts he'd been noticeably untrusting and reluctant, but Glaive was about his size--longer, larger, but not by a huge amount. Double, perhaps, at most. So he eyed her only a little suspiciously before circling lower over the water, peering down at the silvery fish.

Glaive had said many things. The ocean part was most interesting to him, and he wanted to go check that out at once--but she seemed friendly, and Blight liked friends well enough. May as well stay awhile, get to know this cave, and Glaive--ha, that rhymed-

"GLAIVE RHYMES WITH CAVE," he cried, the abrupt sheeplike bleat startling even him, and he almost tumbled from the sky.

He eyed Glaive sidelong, which from the air involved a tilting of his head, and added--"Just don't eat me. Or bite me. My magic is SICK and it will EAT YOU." He was about to go on and brag about how he'd (probably, maybe) infested a huge monster, but then remembered he'd also given himself some sort of illness and decided to leave the whole thing out. Instead he looked around, then down at the fish: at their glittering pale bodies flashing as they turned through the ponds.

He concentrated, his magicka flaring, and then--fading, doing nothing. He huffed and flapped down, landing a couple feet from Glaive, rocking forward to land on his wings. Blight then turned to look her over, eyes glowing green. Magic failure was immediately forgotten as he examined her hide, her colors, her sail, and her snout. "You have good colors! And I like your claws. They're strong. And your fin-thing! It's really cool. And your eyes. They're pretty," he informed her; for a moment the dragon was lost in the baby blues of a Spinosaurus.

What a strange world he lived in.

Blight flexed his wings, leaning back and flapping them twice before rocking back down to land lightly on his wrists once more.

"Coming from them?" he asked, quizzically, and craned his head to peer at his reflection in the water. He'd seen himself often enough, though more broken by the ripples, in Monoceros' river; Pisces' pools were more still and calm, the image much more clear. "That's just my SKIN!" he cried, and broke into childish laughter.

Undoubtedly he'd grow out of falling into giggling peals when amused, some day, but he hadn't done so yet.

After he'd managed to wrest his two-year-old emotions under control he turned, peering over his own colors. He'd never thought about it before; he'd never considered his colors cool. But Glaive did, which meant--they were, right? Neat! "Thank you!" he answered, having been taught these manners, at least, by his dragon family closely.

"Flying is good! Great! You can--um, fly... like, around, fast! Dad could probably fly you, if you want! Or Dad-Dad or Aunt Bone," he answered, without explaining who any of these were. He then jumped--hind legs surprisingly powerful--and caught himself in the air with his wings. A few beats and he was hovering, peering down at the water.

"Yeah but I dunno these kinds of fish! I'm gonna try and catch one," he said--and then looked at Glaive. "Hey, do you wanna be friends? -Glaive?" That was her name, right??

He looked back at the water, and dove--body shrouding in black. It wasn't a perfect disguise--not even a good one--more likely he was only successful because his streamlined, swift body and fish-snapping snout were good fishing adaptations. The shadows didn't really... hide him in the brightness of Pisces--but nobody'd told him that.

The water was icy cold, the shock of the lagoon horrific. The instant Blight's tiny, slender form vanished into it, he nearly gasped, which would have been bad; he very nearly forgot to actually snag the fish he'd had his eyes on. When he came up, momentum carrying him back into the air and wings snapping out to bring him higher, he did gasp: and almost dropped his fish.

He landed beside Glaive a moment later, shivering, wide-eyed as he stared.

"IT'S C-COLD!" he cried, shocked.

By his side, the fish he'd dropped turned, and flopped back into the water with a splash.

"HEY! the dragon cried, tone accusatory, turning too late to try and stop it.

Blight stared glumly after his fleeing fish, and then turned, huffing. He obediently plopped down in the 'sunny' spot indicated, though, wings flailed out and dripping to either side, fins flat against his neck.

"You can visit my home if you want. It's not far and Dad and Dad-Dad live there and they could probably fly you and maybe be your dads, too," he both invited and assured her, in one overly-long sentence.

And then: a squint.

"But I was hiding?! I was a shadow," he explained. No one had told Blight, in his two cycles of life, that shrouding oneself in shadows only counted as hiding if they were in shadow, themselves. He'd never even considered that doing so in bright light was rather counter to common sense.

He listened, though, to Glaive's explanation of how she hunted. "From--below?" he asked, confused and surprised, and interested, all at once. "Um--can you show me how?" He didn't really understand. He was fast, that was the only way he'd caught the fish--the speed of flight, the dip into the water, much like a fishing bird. But below-? It made no sense to him; they were above the fish. How'd she get below?!

He wanted to see this!