'What does reading do?' The thought immediately passed through Yvan's mind at the interjection. Not that he found it rude; he just didn't understand what it was. Did it have to do with being cooler? Probably. Yvan wished he could read. It sounded cool. Like a cool word— No! No more thinking the word cool! Scrunching up his face, Yvan very visibly shoved that thought down with his expression and tucked it away with a shake of his head.

Okay. Mentally corrected, Yvan furrowed his brow instead to fighting another dragon. The dragons were enemies..? Why would you fight your own kind? ... it seemed weird to eat your own kind, too... so perhaps not all enemies were eaten. He wouldn't eat a fish if it cried at him. Sort of why he feels weird eating the things in this cave; they all keep staring instead of being smart and running away, and he didn't know if they'd do something different or not. It's uncanny.

His entire mental process was halted at the thought of a chicken and a baby. A chicken must be big to fight. But... killing? People die when they are killed. That makes sense. Being killed a lot... sort of doesn't. And from his rudimentary knowledge of babies, you don't make them from people you don't like. The entire thought earned a baffled laugh as he raised his thumb to cover his lips.

"Do you eat her too, when you kill her? The chicken?" Whatever a chicken is. "Why would you make a baby with her?"

@Dread

"I WANTED TO," Dread lamented at once, deep mourning in his voice. "BUT SHE TURNED INTO A ROCK IN MY MOUTH SO I HAD TO SPIT IT OUT." He paused, eyeing Yvan this way and that, before realizing that maybe the kid might need more explanation. "SOMETIMES INSTEAD OF REALLY DYING, WE GO BACK INTO OUR STONES FOR AWHILE. SHE CAME BACK AND WANTED TO FIGHT AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND THEN SAID I WAS STRONG ENOUGH TO TAKE A PIECE OF HER STONE TO MAKE ANOTHER CHILD." He paused, shrugging massive wing-muscles. "I WAS ALREADY STRONGER THAN HER. STRONGER THAN A HUNDRED OF HER. BUT I LIKE CHILDREN." There was puzzlement lingering in his voice, even now; to an intelligent creature, Kalama's behavior might have seemed madness. Dread--with his limited capacity for empathy--fared even worse. She was obviously unfathomable; beyond him in every facet of her being. He didn't care; he'd given up trying to understand her about the first time she (a chicken) had attacked him (a dragon).

He paused, tail sweeping to and fro, head tilting again as he considered. "I DO NOT HATE HER! SHE IS JUST. ...VERY STRANGE."

@Yvan

So... she's fine. That's really confusing. That must be just how the world is, but it's still strange; had she been mad at him for killing her? If it's strange to Dread, it's baffling to Yvan, who had no previous idea that anyone could even be like this. Hell, Dread was the only other being he'd spoken to other than Ryoto.

"Are a lot of um— chickens like that?" Strange, confusing, wanting to fight... "Why was she fighting you?" He's not about to admit that he didn't understand, but he truly was wracking his brain for any sort of reason. Were they just a different sort of being..? The chicken clearly spoke to Dread, so it can't be like the more wild things he and Ryoto hunt for food. That can't be it; was she an invader to his cave? Maybe.

He frowned to his thoughts. "What's a chicken?" In all of this, his mental image at least rivaled Dread— maybe it was a little smaller, a little weaker, but at least something that would have a good enough reason to fight him multiple times. That would clear things up. Maybe chickens were just... like that.

@Dread

Now here was a question Dread had asked himself a number of times, with only the result of baffled uncertaintly. "I DON'T KNOW," he replied, and it was drawn out, almost a wail. "SHE IS THE ONLY ONE I HAVE MET. SHE IS VERY SMALL," he went on, rocking back on his wings to lift one foot up. He displayed hooked black talons at Yvan, head curling down to peer at his own foot. "SHE IS... A TOE SIZE," he estimated, then glanced at Yvan. "SHE IS TOO SMALL TO FIGHT." (Don't let anyone tell her that.)

Dread shook himself, as if breaking away from the thoughts, settling his foot back down and slinking away toward the fungus-laded wall again. Obsidian scales flashed and gleamed in the light of his own tattoos. "I DO NOT KNOW WHY SHE INSISTS! IT IS FOOLISH. SHE ALWAYS DIES. BUT SHE IS VERY..." and here he paused, puzzling over it again. "FOOLISH."

It didn't occur to Dread that, if he'd been hatched a chicken, he'd have been exactly like Kalama: loud, brash, and wholly unable to back up that belligerence. Only the luck of magic genetics had spawned him with the form and magic to match his aggression. Not that Kalama didn't share his magic, but maybe it was just harder to breathe as much fire when you were very small..? Dread wouldn't have had a clue, really.

Anyway-... He took a breath, eyes sliding back toward Yvan in thought. Then came the blast of flame, the smoldering of white into black. When the heat and light had subsided, he shook himself, blinking. And abruptly, swept back to a prior topic with zero warning. "READING IS GOOD. IT MEANS LOOKING AT MARKINGS AND UNDERSTANDING THEM! THEY HAVE MEANING." A bizarrely late reply but one offered nonetheless as he waddled to the next crystal, granting a few patches of mold the last of his blast of flame. "AND WRITING MEANS MAKING THE MARKINGS. THEY ALSO HAVE MEANING. THERE IS A LIBRARY. IT HAS A LOT OF BOOKS. BOOKS HAVE THE MARKINGS IN THEM. ON LEAVES," he added, either forgetting the word for 'paper' for a moment or correctly naming the leaves in a book.

"IT TAKES TIME TO LEARN! IT IS SLOW, AND BORING." A note of definite complaint had entered his voice, now. "BUT IT IS GOOD TO LEARN OTHER THINGS." What those things were, Dread did not specify. Admittedly, though, his vocabulary had--however slightly--been improving.

@Yvan

A show of emotions ranged across Yvan's face, all as he leaned in with a cocked brow to try and visual the difference. As big as Dread's toe..? Then... He drew back with his hands apart for the approximate length, brow furrowing further and further. That's just a silly matchup. Maybe she was mad that he was so big? But how could anyone be mad at that? Maybe jealousy was at play.

Another bout of flame put that all to the back of his mind. He's like a moth— staring to the light, fascinated by it, and yet unable to touch. It's warm after all, and it burned, but it's still fun to watch and hear. He's still watching the smoldering ashes when Dread continued on a topic they'd moved past; it took Yvan by surprise, wide eyes turning back to him as he blinked in brief confusion. Reading? Right, reading. Looking at... markings?

Like... people markings, or markings left places? Does his markings have meaning? No, writing was making them, so it's the latter— and his head was spinning with sudden fascination for another thing, something else to be impressed by, more words to absorb the meaning of. Library? Books? Like trees? Or collections of leaves? It really does seem like a lot, but Dread must have been dedicated to know so much.

"How much do you know?" Yvan tucked in his arms by his chest as he danced from one paw to the other. That excitement's caught up to him again, set his tail tapping on the crystalline floor. If Dread had put in the effort to learn reading, then he'd put in the effort to learn other things, right? "In general. Like... what kind of meaning do the markings have? Have you been to the library? What're books like? It's worth learning?" He leaned in a little more again, eager to listen to any response for all his prompting.

@Dread

Dread bristled at the initial question, tensing as his gaze swung sharply (neck arched high) toward Yvan. It was an almost aggressive reaction, as if he'd been confronted somehow, and his answer too was pointed. "I KNOW EVERYTHING," he half-roared, a hell of a declaration. Maybe he'd been challenged before on this topic, and it was a sore one. "READING AND WRITING ARE MINE." Then the possessive bristling faded a little, and he shook himself and turned to the mold.

"BUT I WILL SHARE SOME WITH YOU." (How generous.) "THE MARKINGS HAVE SOUNDS. BUT THEY DO NOT MAKE THE SOUNDS. THEY-" and here the dragon paused, struggling for the right words. "REPRESENT SOUNDS. AND THEN YOU PUT THEM TOGETHER AND THEY MAKE LONGER SOUNDS. WORDS." As for the palace--"YES, AND IT IS NOT BIG ENOUGH," was his first complaint. The palace had been made with Valkhounds in mind, but Dread hated being confined so that he could not stretch his wings. "BOOKS ARE SMALL AND FRAGILE. THEY BURN TOO EASILY. YOU SHOULD GO AND LEARN." This last was given in an indulgent tone, as though Dread were indeed offering to 'share' the entire concepts of reading and writing. As a gift.

Ember eyes flicked up and down over the next fungus-covered crystal, and he huffed, the glow in his throat again igniting. Smoke coiled from his nostrils. "WATCH," he suggested, and leaned back.

This next blast of flame was in a huge, sweeping shape: an upward vertical line connected, on its right, by a sweeping half-circle. It was burned, smoldering black, threads and ashes of fungus falling away. Dread looked to Yvan. "THIS IS A D. IT IS A LETTER. IT GOES 'DEH.' LIKE D-READ." He bristled again, a little proud, but also watched this child to see if he had understood.

@Yvan

Dread— well, yes, Dread had been loud, had been puffing himself up, but the roar and arching all made Yvan shy away just a step. It was only a question..! But— but but but, Dread was just... maybe it came off wrong? He was continuing on, and the momentary fear was soon forgotten as Yvan continued to listen.

Go and learn? Representing sounds? Sort of like how a... tree represents 'tree'? Tree is a sound, but it's also a thing— no no, go back, you're confusing yourself. Closing his eyes, Yvan struggled to picture it until Dread set on making a proper example.

D. So instead of a full sound like tree, it's breaking it down into parts of sounds? He's almost certain he got the 'deh' part, at least. "So there's something that sounds like 'read'?" Yvan sidestepped and tilted his head this way and that, looking over the symbol. "D like... um." What's a D word? "Dot?" That's the best he could come up with in short time.

"How do you write the 'read' part?" And how many letters does that take?

@Dread

In general, Dread would probably spell most things phonetically and butcher them. There were a number of words he'd practiced at, though--or seen enough in books--to get them right. DREAD was, naturally, one of those words.

"IT IS A LITTLE CONFUSING," he admitted, at length, staring at the D burned into the fungus--its smoldering edges gradually spreading and wisping away. "SOME LETTERS MAKE MORE THAN ONE SOUND. IT REQUIRES CONTEXT," which was probably one of the more complex sentences the dragon had uttered; perhaps reading was getting to him, a little.

"HERE," he went on, and inhaled again. His neck lowered, jaws snapping wide, eyes focused keenly on the wall as he burned a new letter beside the first. A curve, two lines: "THERE IS AN R." He looked to Yvan, wincing and moving his jaws--fire hurt--and then went on. "IT GOES 'RRRR.' D-R, DR."

He then moved on. The E was burned in huge, clumsy stripes across the fungus-laden wall, and undoubtedly Mother would be irate should she learn that her blessings were being destroyed in such a haphazard manner, for casual grammar classes. "E GOES EH, OR EEEE. THEN-" (and here came the A, a little jagged) "A GOES AHHH OR AAAYYY. AND ANOTHER D, AFTERWARD-"

Dread took a moment to blast out the last letter, each burst of flame an ignition of heat and blinding light. When he was finished, there was a giant, drifting and fading D R E A D burned into the fungus, though the way the embers caught, it wouldn't last for long. "SO--IT IS D-R-EH-AH-D. DREAD," he concluded, and huffed, a little, shaking himself. "I DO NOT KNOW WHY IT NEEDS AN A. THE LETTERS ARE STUPID, SOMETIMES."

@Yvan

As Yvan took this in, Dread gradually turned his attention back to the walls of the cave. A blast of fire here and there, a battering with his wings, until he felt the need to rest.

As a final bit of effort, he reared back, his wings again arching, then sweeping forward with a powerful leathery flapping. Magicka came with it, the rush of wind spinning into a briefly roaring cyclone, a dust devil that--while it wasn't deadly--certainly ripped plenty of white threads from the floor and walls and sent them spinning harmlessly into other beds of mold.

That done, Dread turned with some satisfaction toward his admirer.

"REMAIN SAFE," he offered. And then--feeling like maybe he should offer more of a farewell, but unsure what to say--"I AM IN LEO. IF YOU WANT TO LEARN MORE LETTERS." With that he arched his neck, curled himself high and sprang into the air, his wings catching him and carrying him on heavy beats for the tunnel exit.

exit Dread; @Yvan (for visibility)