This thread is part of the Eridanus fire-to-destroy-Order thread. It's between two of my own characters and intended so I can spam it out for destroying-Hive points! Of course, we're two fire characters without control, here... so anything could happen.

Loki had learned to fly, if barely. And if... not very well. As it stood he was sort of hopping a few paces, then taking low, clumsy flights between higher spots wherever he could. These "higher spots" mostly consisted of branches and boulders just a few feet off the ground. The moss and mold that coated these spots made it harder to grip on, but he was, so far, managing.

There was smoke coiling up not far off and, sensing the call to his native element, he angled for that. Flaps of his little black wings allowed him to make gradual progress--until suddenly another black shape, but far, far larger, shot into sight just overhead. It was here and then gone, the rush of hot air that followed its passage blowing through his feathers and leaving him crouching and squinting against it.

He'd had an impression of scales, of fireglow and smoke, of a long tail quite unlike his own--What WAS that?! Fear warred with fascination, and after blinking a few times, he took off after it. Surely if it were dangerous, he could just duck down into the branches? The big thing looked TOO big to be able to follow him, after all.

Dread banked, sweeping into a slow glide, turning to look back the way he'd come. He was checking over his work. A satisfied growl rumbled through his chest as he saw the black smoke billowing up from licking orange flames.

The growl cut off, a little quizzically, as a small, feathered shape as sooty as the smoke tumbled into the air after him, barely staying aloft.

The dragon beat his wings a few times in his turn, head craning to peer at it. Was it a Lesser-? Or was it that crow, maybe, from Cetus; or one of the Hallowed Callers, lost here? He squinted, and judging by the gleam at its forehead, he assumed it was the latter. He looked away, dismissing it as he sought his next target, emberglow eyes picking at the terrain.

Dread flew higher and farther out, moving somewhat away from the main group. He'd find another patch, spread the fire further; surely the others could move in pursuit to control things. Better to spread out a little, after all. Admittedly he was being paid for this (in the form of shiny gemstones), but he enjoyed the "work," and wanted to make a good job of it. It was a point of pride, really. So he flew out where the canopy opened up, a little; a glance below showed the trickle of a creek, half-choked by mold. Perfect, he thought.

He inhaled, sweeping a little lower.

Draconic jaws gaped wide, and the exhale came with the brilliant glitter of embers, swelling once again into a crackling roar of fire that swept out to engulf the entirety of the creek below. Fire caught on the mold on both sides, in a broad and long swathe of forest. When Dread again snapped his jaws shut and beat his wings, rising away from the destruction, he left pillars of flame and clouds of smoke rising behind him. His spade-tipped tail lashed the air as he went, his satisfaction evident.

Loki damn near fell out of the sky when the reptilian monstrosity he'd accidentally tailgated suddenly turned and looked right at him. Like some sort of benevolent god, though (or at least an indifferent one) it had turned away again, going about its fiery business as though Loki weren't even there.

That was a relief. And also slightly humiliating, but mostly a relief. He was about to call out after it, and did manage half of a shout as he flapped frantically to try and catch up. "HEY! Hey, wait-" but his voice was lost to the thudding of enormous wings and the sudden roar of flame. He flinched back--thankfully the dragon was far faster than he, and its sleek, molten-marked black shape had already slid into the distance. It meant that the plume of fire, directed down below, didn't catch the raven. He squawked in alarm, flapping up and back--only to see that the dragon had turned and was rising higher again, parallel to Loki's path.

He gave chase, staying low, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. "WAIT! Wait! Why are you burning everything?!" he cawed. And HOW?!

He wanted to do that, too!

Dread turned, blinking. DID THAT BIRD JUST SPEAK? he asked himself, loudly. Almost at once he forgot his beautiful pillar of flame, instead banking and slowing himself with heavy thumps of his wings. So that was a Gembound, then, and not the "lesser" kind. They were both lucky he hadn't burned it, he mused.

"YOU CAN TALK. COME HERE," he bellowed, looking around. He spotted a clearing just below, and angled for it, taloned toes spreading to clutch at the earth below as he hit. He rocked forward after touching down, wings hitting the dirt with a puff of dust, and then shook himself as he peered upward. The spined fin along his neck rattled with the gesture.

When the bird did not immediately appear, he called out again: "I WILL NOT EAT YOU!"

Loki stared. The big sky-snake looked at him, flapped its bat wings, and then dove while speaking. It wasn't that Loki hesitated, exactly; while Dread encouraged him and promised him safety, he was busy beating his wings as hard as he could. But he was small, barely more than a fledgling, so it took him a minute to catch up.

He drifted down, following the hot air stream the dragon had left in his wake. When he landed, it was with beak parted, panting with exertion--and wide eyes staring up as he realized how big Dread was in comparison to himself. The dragon could swallow him whole.

But... he didn't, instead staring down, and Loki blinked up in turn, having the strangest sensation that he was sort of a little mirror of the dragon. Both of them were black, with flaming eyes--Dread's far brighter than his own. Both were of fire, and sky--but the similarities ended there. Dread's glittering scales were a sharp contrast to Loki's feathers. His long tail was utterly different from the feathers that came out of Loki's rump, and the spines and fins had no equivalent on the raven.

Oh.

He should probably speak, right?

Loki blinked and cleared his throat, coughing into a loud caw. "HI. -Hello. I'm Loki. You're-..." He trailed off, struggling, because he honestly had no idea what Dread was. "...Big," he settled on.

He blinked again, rousing himself, remembering his questions. The dragon had stopped because he'd asked it to--right? Rude not to ask his question! "Why are you burning everything? Can I do that, too?" His words still came with the clumsiness of the very young--and rushed with eagerness.

Dread stared down, head tilted a little, at the raven.

Not a Hallowed Caller, then, he decided. After a moment's stammering, the panting, coughing bird asked its question, and Dread huffed. "THERE IS ORDER," he explained, and turned, bashing at a clot of white mold to indicate it. It hung free, not destroyed by the strike but dangling in sickly strings. He looked back down at Loki. "THE MOLD IS BAD. WE ARE DESTROYING IT. I AM BEING PAID, IN SHINIES," he added proudly, his neck-spines rising in a flare.

He then considered Loki's other question. He tilted his head this way and that, studying him with first one eye, and then the other. "WHAT IS YOUR MAGIC?" he asked. "YOU CAN DO IT, IF YOU ARE FIRE. I BREATHE IT FROM MY MOUTH," he explained.

Maybe a demonstration would be best; he turned, blinking toward the clotted curtain of white mold he'd left dangling from the branches. Another deep breath, and he felt the heat rising in his chest; his neck dropped low, straight, jaws snapping open. Another blast of dragon's breath plumed out, engulfing and igniting the mold in flame.

A moment later, there was nothing left but smoldering ash. He turned back to Loki, shaking himself and grumbling in satisfaction. "LIKE THAT," he finished.

Loki flinched in the heat that buffeted his face. The dragon was loud, even when just speaking; his breath guttered heat so strong that scorching air blew back around the raven's feathers.

"Whoa," he breathed after Dread had finished, staring wide-eyed. Fire-? Was he Fire? He thought so. Could he... do that, too?

Uncertainty gripped him, but he stood high, ruffling up his feathers and pretending a confidence he didn't feel (surely that would help, somehow). He strutted over, staring wide-eyed at the smoldering remains of the mold as a little bit of ash fell and drifted away.

Well.

He did his best to imitate.

Loki took a deep breath, hoping to feel fire guttering up inside him.

He didn't need to lean down and straighten out his neck, like the dragon had, but he imitated it anyway; and when he exhaled, his eyes went wider still as he felt heat spraying from his beak. It actually burned, so much so that he snapped his bill shut and sprang back with a startled croak.

Then he blinked.

"IT WORKED!" he squawked. Not... as strongly, maybe. There'd been no flame, but nevertheless a little ember caught in the mold and spread. He flapped his wings excitedly, and stared up at Dread.

"So--are you a bird?!" he asked, in awe.

Dread leaned back a little, bristling ever-so-slightly. "I AM NOT A BIRD," he replied, and maybe if Loki weren't obviously a child, he'd have taken more offense. "I AM A DRAGON. YOU ARE A BIRD," he clarified, "BECAUSE YOU HAVE FEATHERS." Dread briefly wracked his brain, trying to remember if he knew any birds that didn't have feathers. No, but... Shango had feathers, and wasn't a bird. (He remembered Shango because he'd seen him only a few minutes ago.) And he'd seen a dragon with feathers- "AND A SHORT TAIL. MADE OF FEATHERS." There. That covered it, he thought.

He then eyed the little ember, which had spread into a small but flickering fire. Dread had raised children, before, and instinctively he offered encouragement. "WELL DONE. THAT IS A GOOD FIRE." It wasn't, but it was a good start, so with a nod of approval to Loki he turned and wing-walked toward another curtain of dangling mold.

A good fire!! The dragon--the GIANT DRAGON--had complimented his fire! Loki swelled with pride, feathers ruffling up all around him to make him look far larger than he was. Still tiny, compared to Dread, but he strutted alongside the wing-walking dragon as though he were ten feet tall. And he felt like he was.

He glanced up, peering sidelong at Dread, watching his form and power as he unleashed further devastation--but this time Loki wasn't intimidating so much as taking note. The moment Dread had finished, he himself turned to a smaller pile of mold, fluffed himself up even further, and took a deep breath.

Another tiny puff of hot air, and maybe it was his magic or maybe a stray ember from the dragon's comparatively raging fire, but Loki's patch of chosen mold gradually ignited.

Proud, he backed up and croaked a caw, fluffing himself up again. "Fire!" he cried, proudly.

There wasn't much to say to that. He pondered it for a moment, staring off into smoke and embers. Did one agree-? "Yes, that is fire?" That sounded silly. So the dragon simply shook his head (and neck, and spines) and inhaled again.

Another long blast of flame sputtered out, though he didn't maintain it longer than he had to. Yes, it was dragons' breath, but it took magicka, too. So he had learned precisely how efficient to be with it... not that he didn't exult in its heat, destruction, and so forth.

He leaned back, neck curving in a swanlike S-shape, to watch with some satisfaction as this last blast took and spread. The curtain of mold he'd selected now smoldered quickly into ash. He looked down at the raven, then--waiting for it to take its turn. And Dread observed. Surely Loki would be learning, now. There was no better way to master fire than watching a dragon at work.