It'd taken a few days to get her new nest settled, having dug up into the tree above (hollow, as it turned out), and sealed off the entrance Dread had struck into the rock. It was rather easy, as it just took some rocks to make a wall and then she filled the gaps with a mud, sand, and clay mixture, wetted by the sea. Under the hot sun, it had baked and hardened, and her den was now enclosed, the only entrance and exit now through the hollow bottom of the tree, where it exited out through the roots.

Yeah, it was pretty perfect.

Haven crawled out of the den, having stashed another crystal in there, returning to the deer she'd killed. After a moment she sighed and nosed at her wings gently, the burns starting to heal, turning into cracked, scabbed wounds. She was certain she looked terrible, and despite previously not caring what she looked like, she had a feeling they weren't gonna look good when they healed.

But anyway, back to her task.

She picked up the deer in her hind talons and hopped over to the edge of the cliff, leaning forward and taking a nose-dive towards the sand, deer clutched tightly before she swooped upwards, using the winds to help her gain altitude before she banked sharply, headed directly for Dread's den.

She landed on the small 'island', deer clutched in her claws as she perched atop it like a bird, her head craned.

"Hey!", she said, "Fellow dragon! I've a gift."

Right, she didn't know Dread's name, and he didn't know hers. Sigh.

"Do you have a name?", she called out.

@Dread

Dread had spent the days since his altercation with Haven going about his normal life. Mostly he'd tried not to think about the short spat, simply because he hated thinking about other dragons in his home cave. But he'd been mostly true to his word--he'd added the other dens to his list of places to check over as he lazed or flew about, or hunted. Once or twice a day in his rounds of Leo he'd slam down on the lip of the place where "Haven's mate" apparently dozed in a chrysalis, and sniff around for any signs of intrusion. And he circled Haven's new den with its tree overtop, or kept an eye on it from afar. He didn't talk to her, though; he had no real desire to, and some part of him was still suspicious and wary of her presence here.

Other than this he hunted, and dozed in the 'sunshine,' and slept atop his hoard.

It was worth noting that Dread's hoard, his den, was in two parts. It was all contained in one of the rocky outcrops jutting up from Leo's sea, and the top was a hollow, a couple wind-stunted trees and some foliage clinging to its fairly broad surface. A few crystals and gemstones along with the hide and bones of his prey lay here. A second den, where he slept more deeply, was a cave half-cut through the center of this outcrop, lower down, where Dread kept his hoard proper. There was no way to reach either of these by walking alone. One would have to fly to them, or swim and then overcome the breakers before scaling sheer, uneven rock. Within the enclosed cave-den were his real treasures; singing crystals and chunks of gold, old armor scraps and gemstones.

When Haven touched down atop the outcrop, the place he roosted more than slept, he bristled at once. Spines rose along his neck, and he shot up, mantling wings-out over his meagre collection here like a hawk over a carcass. Ember eyes narrowed at her presence.

At first, he simply stared at her, resenting her presence here with or without her prey.

"I AM DREAD," he snarled, at last, gaze cutting down to the deer in her claws. It didn't occur to him that this might be some sort of trick, specifically, but he was distrustful of her nonetheless. Moreso at his very den, which to him, no one should intrude upon.

But... a gift? He deliberated, wavering on tolerating her long enough to accept whatever this gift was. "WHAT GIFT? IS IT THAT? WHY?" he asked, at last.

@Haven

Haven carefully stepped off the deer and took it in her mouth, throwing it forward a few feet before dropping to all fours. She stared at Dread (not really, but her head was turned towards him, as if mimicking such a thing), nostrils flaring as she shuffled her wings gently.

"We're neighbours," she said, "And you're taking care of me and Electrum, I thought that it might be nice to at least try and get along."

She shrugged and flew down towards the sea briefly, pushing her head under the water, dunking her healing burns in blessedly cool water. She curled around and rose back up, hovering before the cliff.

"The burns," she said, "Are they bad?"

@Dread

He studied her with narrowed eyes, suspicious of this good will. But... there was some precedent for it. Flickering memories rose of Asimona, of her gifts to a hatchling in Fornax; was this the same? He didn't hate Haven, but he did not like her; she was, in his mind, an ugly and deformed thing and her initial hostility had left its mark. It wasn't her burns that bothered him, but her lack of eyes, her un-dragon-like details on a dragon's obvious shape. It unnerved him; it was uncanny valley, a dragon that was "not quite right." Still, he could have gotten past that if her initial greeting had not been a demand that he turn back from her territory, in what he'd viewed as his own. That had left a bad taste, a lingering thing that could better be called "not liking" rather than outright dislike, though he hardly remembered the reason himself by now.

"THIS IS MY DEN. I DON'T WANT OTHERS IN MY DEN." And then he hesitated, adding with almost reluctance: "YOU ONLY NEED TO BRING CRYSTALS SOMETIMES AND I WILL WATCH THOSE PLACES. NOT FOOD." Just in case she thought she had to bribe him, or something, to keep his end of the deal. It seemed that he had a mind for fair exchange, at least.

A hind limb came up, driving talons into the deer to pin it down, and he paused as if for confirmation of his last statement. Then he dug in, jaws twisting down to rip away a hunk or two of meat, which he tossed his head back to gulp down whole. In between bites, he spoke, only briefly studying Haven. The gold of his horn-rings glinted with each movement. "I DON'T KNOW? DO THEY FEEL BAD?" He seemed confused by the very question. Despite finding her dragon-but-not-dragon-appearance disturbing, he had little care for things like beauty past the aesthetic appreciation of it; he'd never given a single thought to vanity in that regard, and thus couldn't comprehend it in others. Why was she asking if it was bad? Wouldn't she know? Shouldn't she know better than him?

BUT SHE CAN'T SEE IT. MAYBE SHE CAN'T FEEL IT RIGHT, he reasoned (and yes, even his thoughts were practically shouted in his own mind). He studied them more closely.

He'd inflicted a multitude of burns, both on enemies and prey. Sometimes they were merely blistered patches, other times he'd scorched whole herds of tunnel runners black. This was scarring, melted flesh that would leave marks.

"IT LOOKS PRETTY BAD?" he suggested, unsure. Another bite of meat, swallowed down; he sounded, if anything, unconcerned. Neither insulting, or apologetic; he wasn't attaching emotion to it as Haven might. "I WOULD KEEP THEM CLEAN. I TOLD YOU BONE CAN HEAL THINGS, IF IT STILL IS BAD."

If anything, Dread would've seen scars with pride, as badges of battle; it didn't occur to him to view physical beauty as a matter of personal value.

Oh--and his manners. The one bit he'd ever learned: "THANK YOU FOR THE DEER," he said.

@Haven

Haven couldn't smell infection, but with the burns directly over her head, neck, and shoulders, it was a possibility they'd simply been bad enough to damage the sensitive organs that lay protected under the heavy dermal plate that'd taken the brunt of the damage. So in this case, unfortunately she had to rely on sight.

But Dread said 'pretty bad', not 'infected' or 'dying'. Necrosis would have spelled a chrysalis, if not death.

"I'm sitting at the edge," she said, and pointed off towards his den, "And the wind comes from that way, so my scent won't linger."

She flew the best against the wind anyway, like any bird. She flew higher and the wind pushed against her wings harder, meaning more lift and less overall speed needed to take off. Either she dropped down from cliffs or took a running start towards the breeze, and then began her flight.

"But the crystals are running out," she mumbled, and then spoke up, "And I have an even greater surprise than any crystal or doe could give."

Haven pointed towards the volcano, tail flicking idly, "The volcano hides a forge beneath it. Smiths used to work there, making armor, weapons, jewelry. There's metals and things that I have no need of, so I thought I'd show it to you, instead."

But she was keeping the sword hilt she had. That was hers.

Then, as an added thought: ""You're welcome," she said, head down.

Haven shuffled nervously and sighed again, "Look. We're neighbours now, and I'd like it if we at least got along somewhat. I'm not trying to make you do anything you don't want to do, I just want to be nice."

@Dread

"SCENT-?" he echoed, puzzled. "I JUST DON'T WANT ANYBODY IN MY DEN. IT'S MY DEN." Explanation given, he finished off the deer, leaving stripped hide and limbs behind. He seemed content enough with Haven hovering, rather than perched on his outcrop.

He licked his jaws, considering, eyeing her where she hovered. "YOU KEEP SAYING NEIGHBORS. I DON'T NEED A NEIGHBORS." He likely had no idea of the word, but he didn't want to be any closer to Haven than he was. Dread had no need for socializing, and outside his family he had no interest in it, really. Tolerance might grow into it but he was, apparently, not the sort easily drawn in. At least, not with other dragons. In the same matter of fact tone, he went on: "YOU CAN BE NICE," as if giving permission. Then he hesitated.

Dread wanted to explain that Haven's presence made him uncomfortable--that he didn't want her close; that some instinct drove him to scream and thrash his tail and roar and drive opponents out. That bargaining to keep her "protected" was to fool himself as much as anything, so he had an excuse not to just kill others. He didn't mind the occasional interaction with Gembound: trading, speaking, teaching, fighting. But dragons in "his" cave kept his hackles--or rather, spines--up, and he didn't like that. Some part of him was aware that Haven probably deserved an explanation for this, given her attempt to reach out--but he wasn't sure how to say it. This manifested in hesitation, in a distant blink and thoughtful look (as much as Dread could manage, with his serpentine facial structure). What he settled on was, "I GET ALONG AS LONG AS EVERYONE KNOWS IT IS MY CAVE, AND DOESN'T TELL ME IT'S THEIRS, AND DON'T COME INTO MY DEN." The sentence was a little mixed up, and he paused again, unsure if he'd said it right or if he sounded hostile. It hadn't been intended as such.

"SHOW ME TO THE FORGE," he decided, giving up on all of that.

@Haven

Haven stepped back, toes dipping into the water before she perched on a small rock instead, huffing but not saying anything. She was growing more and more agitated by the minute, some part of her refusing to leave Leo, to leave Electrum. She half-wished it didn't.

The smaller, more bitter part of her, the part that sank her claws into prey's throats and relished the taste of deer flesh was enraged by the fact that she lived in fear of this dragon snapping and tearing her throat out with white teeth, leaving her for dead. She shouldn't live in fear, she ought to live a peaceful, happy life.

She shook her head and sighed, "It's not your cave. It's not anyone's cave, not even mine. This is your den and my den was over there and that was all the expectation I really had."

She didn't even want to go to the forge anymore, her mood soured. She didn't feel hated for Dread- well, maybe she did. If hatred was the extreme urge to throttle someone until their neck broke, then yes, she did indeed hate Dread.

"Let's just go," she said, her claws itching.

Haven turned and flew off towards the volcano, faster than Dread mostly because she was smaller, lighter, and spent 70% of her day riding the winds and knew them like the back of her paw.

@Dread

Dread did not know, at first, where Haven had gone. His own cliff rock shot sheer up from the deep waters of Leo, and she'd gone somewhere to touch the sea. He could hear her, in the distance, calling her words back to him but predictably his only response (spines rising along his neck) was to shout back, "THIS IS MY CAVE!"

It was strange, however; the words seemed insistent, as if there was something that Dread thought Haven wasn't getting, rather than simply hostile.

Annoyed, he watched her down below--low to the water, wherever she'd gone, now flapping off toward the volcano. With a grunt he launched off his pinnacle and swept down to follow.

Dread was not a slow or heavy being. He was lightly-built, streamlined, his abdomen tightly tucked up; he was built for speed, for agility, with broad and powerful wings. He fell gradually behind, though he didn't rush; he slowed, instead, exulting in the feel of the warm sea wind coursing over his wings and scales. As was their habit, a few of the seabirds rose up to "escort" him, expecting the scraps he occasionally tossed them; he indulged this, their small pale forms little shadows of his own.

@Haven

Dread was a child, she realized. Throwing a temper tantrum over the fact that she apparently had the audacity to live here. She just really wanted to rake her claws down her face at this point.

"Shut up," she hissed under her breath, just wanting to whip overhead and shove him down into the ocean.

She flew towards the volcano and rose up before shooting down towards the ground, gritting her teeth. She snapped in her wings at the last second and went shooting down into the tunnel towards the Underforge, claws scraping the ground as she slid to a trot, making her way towards the underground area.

@Dread

Dread set down neatly, beating his wings with billowing flaps and falling to near vertical as he slowed. Talons touched down, weight shifted to his legs and then he rocked forward, landing heavily on his wings. Spines raised with interest as he looked around, studying this new place.

He followed Haven at a wing-walk, pondering it.

"HAVE YOU SEEN MONOCEROS? THAT WAS MY OLD CAVE. IT WAS HOT, LIKE THIS PLACE." Nostrils flared as he took in the odors of sulfur and molten rock.

"THAT PLACE IS PAST THE ROOM WITH ALL THE LITTLE LIGHTS AND CRYSTALS. AND THE TUNNEL HAS OLD METAL IN IT." ...Questionable information, but probably the closest Dread came to casual conversation, at least.

@Haven