...It was TOO COLD.

Black wings flapped, the magma-hued tattoos glittering and shifting with bright fire against the snow-choked fog of Ursa.

TOO. COLD.

He was looking for Svartis, and for Bone, the dragon visitor Carja (asshole) having prompted some measure of fear for his children in him. He'd kept watch to make sure she wasn't around (no thanks), creeping with narrowed eyes to the tunnel entrance and waiting for it to be wholly clear before launching into the mountain cave.

Now he was searching, in great, sweeping circles through this shitbag place. It was COLD. It was snowy, hard to see, and those stupid big white birds kept almost hitting him. He hated it.

"BONE! SVARTIS!" he bellowed, over and over, an antithesis to his attempts to be quiet and sneaky. He'd given that up upon not immediately running into either child in the vast alpine cave.

When no response was at once forthcoming, he called upon his magic: a rain of flaming boulders coalesced midair, crashing down around him in a storm of fire. It was blatant, it was bright, it was hot (thank the caves), it was obvious.

His spear-tail lashed through icy air behind him as he wove between a couple that drew too close, roaring out again. "BOOOONE? SVAAAAAAARTIS!?" If his snow-muffled roars didn't attract their attention, then surely the firestorm would-?

@Svartis

... it was pretty nice in here.

Svartis'd awakened a few days—weeks?—ago; his obsidian chrysalis had been buried beneath at least five feet of snow. It was quite an endeavor, crawling out of that hole. Some hot water later, and he was taking to the skies in search of his sister. They bumped into one another by way of coincidence and, while some things seemed vaguely strange and off-kilter, the dragon was none the wiser to Bone's fate and infection.

The black dragon was having a much better time than his father, in any case. Visibility was an issue, yes, but he could nimbly dodge the birds flapping about and keep the ground in his sights.

All that being said... he could not dodge what was essentially a rain of pure fire and magma.

A startled roar launched out of Svartis as one screeched past him, and another, and another. He dove for ground almost immediately, which happened to be on the way past Dread. Fins laid flat, flaring out at the last second to slow his impact. Snow crunched beneath his weight and he lifted a wing with a shriek of, "WHAT'S THIS?!"

Please work—and it did, in perhaps the worst possible way: ice crackled as it shot into being, forming a thick lattice over his body and tying him to the ground. No matter how Svartis struggled to escape, he was laid out for a fireball to land right on him. A worried shriek sounded as he thrashed, "H-HELP? HELP, PLEASE!"

@Dread

The call alerted him, and he swerved, surprised to hear that child's call so close to his own location.

Whoops.

What Carja said rang with the alarm in Svartis' voice and for a moment, Dread felt fear: had she been right? Was here, in danger, trapped? Was he-

-encased in his own ice. At least, Dread assumed it was his own.

One flap of leathery black-backed wings later, the fire dragon was thudding into the thick snow--blinking against the driving onslaught of blizzard--beside his son. He'd brought his own heat, it seemed, warmth crackling around him in a steaming shimmer, and he drew close to offer that warmth to the chrysalis of ice. He wasn't sure it'd be enough to melt it--it was only a few degrees warmer--but maybe it'd get above freezing? A mental shrug, and he put his talons to aid the task, cracking at the ice where he could.

"ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" he asked, and "WHY ARE YOU IN ICE?" and "DID SOMEONE PUT YOU IN THIS? SOME BLUE THING CAME AND SAID YOU WERE DYING."

...At least, that'd been sort of how he'd interpreted it.

A pause, and he half-corrected this thought. "-THAT YOU WERE IN DANGER. BUT IT WAS DROOLING FROM ITS EYES AND SAID BAD THINGS," he added, unaware of what 'tears' were, or how they worked. He hadn't liked the insults, either. He finished off this speech--grand, by Dread's standards--with a repeated, and distinctly worried, "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" his son's way.

@Svartis

Something thumped in the snow, and Svartis ceased his struggling long enough to whirl on it and call, "Dad?" Had he conjured him from nothing, just by calling? But... this was his magic—same as the sort heating up the ice. It took a moment for the ice dragon to pick up what Dread was putting down, but he stretched his wings out and shrugged through what chunks he could. A few more minutes of wiggling yet, and he'd be free.

In the meantime: "I'm okay! Um, is that your fire falling everywhere? I was... trying to protect myself from it." Icy eyes furrowed as far as they could go, trying to convey hey man, I'm not mad or anything, just confused as all get-out. He squirmed again, and hobbled onto unsteady legs. Shaking himself out, he blinked, "blue thing? Me, dying?"

What?

"Um, no. I'm not dying." Drooling from its eyes? Svartis blinked dumbly again. Does he mean... crying? Not that he'd... ever really done or been capable of that. "I'm fine. I slept for a while after that big fight, but... I'm fine," he assured again with a tilted head, "um, what did the blue thing look like—other than being blue?"

Shoot, wait—"how've you been, Dad? I didn't... think to come back to Monoceros."

@Dread

He helped his son break free, idly, most of his focus on grasping Svartis words (Dread did not have Good Words). "THAT WAS MY FIRE," he confirmed, pulling a sheet of ice away and dropping it into the snow as he stepped back. "I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU WOULD SEE IT AND COME SEE WHAT IT WAS AND FIND ME. I COULDN'T FIND YOU. THIS PLACE IS TOO BIG," he added, looking around, each word needlessly a half-shout. "AND TOO COLD."

Ember eyes shifted back to Svartis, Dread's serpentine black-scaled neck glinting with the light of wet and melting snow falling over it. "SORRY." Probably for the fireballs. Maybe. "I LIVE HERE NOW! NOT HERE, BUT NEXT TO HERE. IN THE CAVE WITH WATER AND ISLANDS. IT IS LIKE HOME. WHERE I WAS HATCHED. BUT WITH DRY PLACES, TOO." A pause, as he considered--and maybe regrouped from launching this assault of More Words. "I LIKE IT," he finished.

As for the blue thing: "THE BLUE THING LOOKED LIKE A DRAGON, BUT IT HAD A WEIRD FACE. IT SAID YOU ADOPTED IT. BUT IT SAID I DIDN'T LOVE YOU OR BONE AND IT SAID I DIDN'T KNOW SHE DIDN'T LIKE THE COLD," he added, and there was clear confusion at this last. The dragon, though, was blunt with his assertion that he loved his children, indignant even: it was no cause for shame in him, despite his generally 'Proud Destroyer of All Things' image. Really, he just hunted and lived his life and loved his kids--and collected shiny objects, of course. He was more a firebreathing magpie than an apocalyptic monster. "SO I TOLD IT TO GO AWAY. BUT IT SAID YOU AND BONE WERE SICK."

He eyed Svartis closely, now: a careful inspection.

"-ARE YOU SICK?"

@Svartis

Svartis didn't mind the shouting so much as the conjured fire with absolutely no direction that it could've possibly come from. "Uh, well... it was everywhere. I don't think I could've found you if I'd tried," he huffed, then looked at Dread with earnest, "but you did find me, so I guess it worked." Pat yourself on the back, old man.

The ice dragon just laughed a little, "it is pretty big. You should see the mountains!" Had his father ever seen one? "They're like... really big rocks. There's two of them." His fins flared and he regarded the storm for a moment; maybe they could go on a venture when it wasn't so stormy, if the fire dragon wasn't too opposed to staying around in the cold. Svartis felt bad making him endure the elements just to hang out, when he could go wherever Dread went and cope a little better (so he thought. He wasn't as much of a drama queen as his dad.)

"It's all right," Svartis said with a gentle shrug, eager to get off the topic of his father sending the Wrath of God down to get his attention. Besides, it was more exciting to hear that Dread'd moved! Dark fins flared up higher and icy eyes widened with piqued interest, "is it warm? I haven't been anywhere but here in... uh... a while. Just trying to explore what I can of this place. Bone's here too! We spend a lot of time together, but we live in different caves, I think. I haven't found hers yet."

For good reason.

"Change of scenery's nice anyways. I wanna come see sometime."

Obsidian-laced brows furrowed again, though, at the description. Vague as it still was, that matched Carja to a T. The whelp'd been gone for a while, but Svartis hadn't thought—"I took care of her for a while, but... she went off on her own? Off to play with some friends she had or something. I remember seeing her at that fight... ?" Blink. "We're not sick? I don't know why... Carja would think that. I haven't even seen her."

What?

@Dread

Dread noted down the "really big rocks" in his head. He knew what mountains were; he had them, sort of... in Leo, and plus he just... knew. That was one of those words that seemed to come with Knowledge From Nowhere in his brain, at least.

Which was good. Less to think about and puzzle over and commit to memory on his own, really.

"IT'S WARM!" Dread confirmed, loudly--about Leo, obviously, because Ursa was anything but. "THE PLACE WHERE I WAS HATCHED WAS ALL WARM WATER. THIS IS LIKE THIS BUT WITH LAND-PLACES TOO, SO THE FLOODS WON'T TAKE MY STUFF." Important note. Dread had only ever left Fornax because he'd grown too large for his little wall-niche and all the tiny shinies he'd hidden away within, and no region of Fornax had been elevated enough to otherwise protect said shinies. Impulsively, even warmly, he added--"YOU SHOULD COME." A pause, as he considered this. "SOMETIMES THERE IS RAIN, AND IT IS COOLER THEN, IF YOU WANT."

How considerate.

He eyed Svartis, then, emberglow eyes thoughtful, critical, as he examined him. "SO YOU ARE NOT SICK? YOU ARE OKAY? BONE IS OKAY?" He flinched against a brief cold wind, shifting his wings to reposition himself against the cold, a little. "IT SAID YOU GOT SICK IN THE FIGHT."

He didn't know what that was all about. He certainly hadn't gotten sick. "I TOLD IT TO LEAVE. I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT WENT. IF YOU WANT TO FIND IT," he added--an explanation that no, he had no idea where to find Carja, not after he'd yelled at it to go AWAY.

@Svartis

Svartis was so used to living in overly warm caves that Leo hadn't even sounded all that unappealing to him. He wasn't sure if he was less sensitive to the cold because of being part fire dragon, or if he was just better able to acclimate to it—compared to his mother, anyways, which was no fault of her own.

Yet, stopping by while it was raining? That sounded quite nice. The ice dragon grinned (just with his eyes, but still... a grin!) and nodded, "of course. I'd love to come over. I can bring dinner." A few woolies here and there... a splendid meal for two dragons. They could have a night in. Father-son bonding... !

Feeling like a kid being interrogated about his sniffles, Svartis said a bit more plaintively, "I am not sick and neither is Bone. We're both alright, dad." He abandoned his playful grin for a more thoughtful, pensive look. "I don't know why she'd say that." Was there time missing between the fight and his chrysalis, or what? "Neither of us were ever sick?"

Away from home or not, though, the dragon cared about Carja the same as he did Blight. They were his kids. He wished his dad hadn't... apparently told her to leave, but there was nothing to be done about it; plus, Dread seemed to be a bit of a live wire about that. Svartis wasn't going to ask him not to do that again or to go apologize for it. What were they, kindergarteners? No, they were dragons!

He shifted in place, stretching out his wings once and feeling the wind catch in them. "I'll look in a bit. I really only have one guess where." At home, maybe, in the frozen palace he'd originally made for himself and his visiting mother. Svartis sighed softly and flared his fins. Then, he brightened a bit and tilted his head up at Dread where he stood, "are you hungry? There's some deer, if you know where to look."

@Dread

Dread looked around again, considering the very concept of even staying in this snowy hellhole long enough to hunt and eat. He hated the cold. ...And here, the slightest inkling--the memory of Carja insisting that Bone hated ice, too--came back to him. There was something weird about that... but then, Bone and Svartis were close. Maybe she just wanted to be near family. It was a seemingly unrelated response, then--generated from this train of thought--that came from Dread in 'answer.' "BONE COULD LIVE WITH ME IN THE WARMER CAVE. IT IS CLOSE," he informed Svartis, swinging his head back to look at him with those emberglow eyes.

There was a pause as he tried to remember what he had meant to answer.

...Ahh, yes. Hunting, food, in the cold. "I DON'T LIKE THE COLD, BUT I WANT TO STAY WITH YOU FOR AWHILE BECAUSE I HAVE NOT SEEN YOU. WE CAN HUNT," he agreed. Dread was honest with his kids--and he genuinely cared for them. Apparently, some close father-son time would be good, in his mind.

Plus, it wouldn't be a bad idea to know about the prey here, if he ever wound up hungry in Ursa.

A slow gaze around, the pinprick spark of magic behind his eyes, and he looked himself for other living things. It struck him at once the size of the cave: many of the squiggly red sigils of "flowing blood" were very, very distant, or tiny. Most were spread out throughout the bitter cold, seemingly living solitary, struggling lives. There were a few clustered close--so small and piled up that they seemed a single heartbeat.

Dread took note of them, and looked to Svartis to take the lead.

we can hunt on-screen or fade out? either is fine with me!

@Svartis

Blink. Another Dread-style topic change—wait, tangent would be a better word. It was still related. Svartis quirked his brows as best a dragon can, and tilted his head in consideration, "it definitely sounds like her sort of thing." He exhaled sharply and bobbed his head, "I'll let her know if I see her." He smiled—also as best a dragon can—and huffed with thought, if it's so close, why hasn't she gone already? Surely there was some sort of sense for it?

Maybe Bone just wanted to stick close to family... ? They'd always been so close.

Father-son hunting time sounded nice, and perhaps they'd find his sister along the way. Svartis's snapped his fins out in preparation, rolling his shoulders. "I also want to stay with you awhile," he chuckled softly, genuinely, "it's pretty simple hunting. Just deer and lizards for big stuff." He reared up slightly, spreading his wings out.

The wind caught underneath them quite easily, despite the lingering ache of smarting burns, and he took to the air. Despite his broad, narrow wingspan, he made sure to stay within sight of Dread, circling just above him and roaring down, "see anything?"

Dad could call out the quarry, and Svartis could dive for it. Seemed like a solid plan?

fading sounds good to me! exit svartis
@Dread