They didn’t have much time left before the big day. Well, no, it wasn’t even the big day. It was more of a training exercise, a recruitment- who knew when the actual raid was.

It still settled a pit in Attikias’s stomach, no matter how many saddle tests he did with Carja. There’d be a fair bit of them along with a fair bit of revisions before going onto the final product, and a whole lot of leather was missing as he performed some finishing touches to the dragon’s equipment.

Most of it had gone to the armor he’d been crafting- both Carja’s and his. It was new territory for him. He’d gotten the method of hardening the leather down, at least, but forming it to himself was tricky at first. He was used to using himself a mannequin, but when using hot, hot water, it was a bit of a problem to keep it pressed against his body for so long.

Plus, there was the fact that something could swipe through it. There weren’t many pieces to fashion together left, at least, and as he stepped back from the saddle, he sighed. This one should fit, given his measurements of a few logs, hopes, and dreams. She’d probably like it, right? Plus, it shouldn’t be ruined by her scales too much, thanks to both protective wood placed inside and thick leather that he’d had stored up for something like this.

Well. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagine using it, but it was as good as a use as any.

He could take a break. He could stop and slow down, but he had something in mind as he turned to the worktable he’d laid out, turning his attention to the garb he crafted for himself. It was loose- designed to be worn with a thick covering underneath, given the fact that Ursa was apparently very cold. Would clothing be enough to keep him warm? He hoped so, but it still drove his stomach to tie itself into knots, even as he lifted up the chestplate.

What else could he do to it? How could he make it better? As he turned it around to look to the back, he noticed his arm passing over the other.

His tattoo. The titanium. That might work. He had a good bit left from using it on himself, since the design was rather lightly painted on- but how would he get an even coat over the armor? He had a brush for his hair that he used, but that’d be too stiff- could he use his hands? He didn’t want it stuck to his hands, though. Gently setting down the chest piece again, he rumbled softly in thought, tail swaying behind him.

He might as well bite the bullet. Hesitantly, he stepped away to grab the jar, finding it under a stash of broken urns. Did it get destroyed? Oh, crap- nononono- No, it was fine, and Attikias let out an exhale as he lifted up the gift from Eslpet up to inspect. There was a large crack down its side, but it seemed the viscous liquid inside hadn’t seeped out, much to the elf’s luck.

He returned and plonked the jar down on his table and got to work. Its wooden wedge of a top was pried off before he dipped in the tips of his fingers, spreading the paint-like dye across the surface of the leather. It felt… Good. The cathartic moments were nice, even as he really only got the outsides, watching the metal-like product gleam under his inspection.

There was just enough left, and the rest of the jar was emptied, extra armor given to the more vulnerable parts of his chest and shoulder-pieces. He’d let the caves fall down before he let his gem get cracked just because he forgot to put some armor on there. Hell, it was the reason he gave the shoulderplates their own straps, individual from the chestpiece. He could probably wear it, and he flicked it in thought as it dried rapidly.

Right. Let’s not throw up, again. Taking in a deep breath, Attikias gathered together all eleven pieces to grant it true permanency on his effects.

Attikias waited after pulsing magic into the armor, watching it as it did nothing. It was the same as last time- just, nothing, as it maybe set in.

Until a gray started to travel up his arms.

He yelped loudly, jumping back from his table and shaking his hands, making a cacophony of noise in his panic. It was not supposed to go this way- he'd rather vomit here and now rather than have permanent metal hands?!

No. Nonono, focus on the armor, put the magic into it and stop this weird... Color crawling? What? He huffed anxiously as he shut his eyes, straining to put all his being into not his being. When he opened them, the color had reduced somewhat, flowing down his hands and nearly giving him some real physical feedback to his work.

He let out a sigh. Well, if this was permanent, then, there were probably much worse dyes to stain yourself with. The elf swallowed as he brought up one of his fingers to test against the leather, scratching against it.

Nothing flaked off. It was set. Attikias let out a bigger sigh, his muscles untensing from his panic. The color was still slowly fading, and his normal navy was returning, and things were probably fine.

Right. Now, to go get Carja. Where'd the dragon run off to? He took some time to tie up his armor onto himself (and it still fit loosely without the padding underneath), but when he was done he was just about ready to sprint into the woods to find her. He nearly did- but, he had to stay calm, despite his weird panic-excitement that coursed through him.

Besides, how hard could it be to lose a giant dragon?