Treya wrapped an arm around Mrrak's powerful leg, fingers absently tracing the swirling red patterns that covered his black body, the scales cool against her fingers. She could feel his desire to shield her from sight - it was written in his tense body, in his focused eyes, in the way he kept letting a low growl slip free despite her continual hushing of him. Kyar, at least, was taking this change of locations easier. His heavy, scaled body was sprawled out on the bed in front of her, his spines as relaxed as possible, his tongue lolling out between sharp teeth, the picture of laziness.
She glanced about the room once again, looking for any safer place than where she and her Growlers were currently curled. That was unlikely, though -- she was in the infirmary, curled in the little nook used to keep humanoid patients out of the way of the hustle and bustle of an infirmary designed for, and staffed by, Myrsilk. The bed she was on was really nothing more than a pad placed on a stone pedestal, one of ten identical structures in the little nook. Treya was currently the only one in the humanoid section.
Outside the nook, however, Inisail and Rentaon hovered over a small, bright blue dragon, lending their aid to their bond, Kelthin, as he patched and mended as best he could, his pale green hands glowing with magic. A strange looking, golden dragon paced back and forth impatiently, wincing every time the blue dragon hissed in pain.
Treya wondered about that. Were these dragons some new race? She'd never heard of Myrsilkains sharing their Clan Grounds with anyone other than their bonds and the children of their bonds. If they were bonds with Myrsilkains, then where were their bonds?
"There, that's the best I can do," Kelthin announced as he stood, one hand resting heavily against Rentaon's leg. "You know the drill by now, Flikk."
The blue dragon - Flikk? - heaved himself to his feet and shook his head as if clearing it, ruffling his bright yellow mane. "Stick around under you clear me, light duty until I feel strong again, come to you as soon as I get torn to shreds by those things again."
Inisail chuckled. "Could we skip that third step, Flikk? At this rate, I'm going to start thinking you're courting one of us!"
Flikk grinned and winked, "Only one of you? Inisail, you wound me!" He turned serious then, and looked at Kelthin. "Can I at least take anthro form this time?"
"It shouldn't do you any harm, but..."
"You'd rather I do it in front of you," Flikk finished with a sigh. He then shrugged, settled his body on the floor again, and concentrated.
Treya watched in fascination as the dragon's body blurred and shifted, front legs shortening and paws becoming hands, hind legs shifting to a bipedal posture, muzzle flattening out into a very human-like face. The healer was at his side as soon as the change was completed, checking him over once more, before finally signaling his acceptance and backing away again.
The gold dragon, now in a humanoid form as well, helped Flikk to his feet and started to lead him towards the nook where Treya sat. Exhaustion sat heavy upon both of them, and a worried frown creased the gold one's face.
She swept her eyes down their bodies, assessing them as she would one of her beasts, noting the scars, the too-slender look of people burning more energy than they could easily replace, the faint limp Flikk had that spoke of a barely-healed injury. If they were hers, she'd have locked them in shelter, to regain weight and recover from whatever was tearing them to shreds time and time again.
Flikk seemed to notice her scrutiny, and turned his head away, his blue cheeks turning a strange, bright violet that Treya took for a blush. That caught the golden one's attention, and he looked up from Flikk and gazed at her with piercing, orange-gold eyes.
"Haven't seen you 'round here before," the golden one said, as he settled Flikk onto one of the pads. "I'm Vikktor, this is Flikk."
Treya watched the two a moment longer in silence, before she finally recalled that they were waiting for her to introduce herself. Manners that she hadn't had to use for years slowly dredged their way to the surface.
"Treya. I'm Treya," she hastily said, trying to cover her blunder. She then gestured to her two Growlers, "These are Mrrak and Kyar."
"Where ya from, if you don't mind me asking?" Vikktor asked lightly. He was fiddling with a sheet, helping Flikk to cover himself.
Body-shy dragons? Treya wondered in confusion. Since when are dragons body-shy? What's it matter if they're naked in human-like forms or naked in dragon forms? They're naked either way.
But she figured that fell into the category of 'things that it was impolite to ask' and so turned her attention back to the question Vikktor had asked her.
"Clan Micara, on Second Home."
"Clan Micara? But I thought..." Flikk finally spoke up, glancing over at her. She saw him take in her own scars, the swirling patterns that stood out on her arms and right leg, her hunter-lean body, the dagger she kept at her hip even here. Understanding dawned in his gaze at that, followed by sadness. "O-oh... S-sorry."
Treya shook her head, "I got over it years ago, it's alright."
"Still," Vikktor crossed the few steps to the bed where she was sitting and offered his hand, "that was callous of me. Forgive me?"
She glanced from his hand to his face, noting the sadness lurking behind his cheerful mask. He understood. Flikk was sorry because it bothered him to accidentally bring up such memories. Vikktor was sorry because he'd lived it himself. She smiled and rested her hand on top of his, silently accepting his apology.
"Got anywhere to stay?" Vikktor asked after she'd withdrawn her hand and wrapped it once more around Mrrak's leg.
Treya glanced around the infirmary. Did she? She didn't think so. Joryen hadn't come back for her yet, she hadn't met the Clan Leaders, and all Kelthin had said was that she should 'get some rest while she could', whatever that meant.
"No."
Vikktor flashed her a brilliant grin, his tiny wings extending slightly, as he said, "Great! You can come stay with us Devyrs then!"
"Is that really wise, Vik? What if she doesn't like the others?" Flikk asked.
"Devyrs?" Treya asked at the same time.
Vikktor put his hands up and made a 'hush-hush' gesture. When both of them had quieted, he then pointed at Flikk, addressing his words to his partner first, "She can always move out later if she doesn't like us. Someone should offer the lady a bed, and if the Myrsilk aren't going to, then I will!" His attention returned to Treya, and he flashed her another brilliant grin. "Yep, Devyrs. We're a merc company that the Clan hired a while back."
Mrrak shifted restlessly against her side, and she took a moment to wrap her arm more firmly around his leg while she tried to dredge up all the information she knew about 'merc companies'. Well, 'company' means 'group of people', so it's a 'group of mercs'... mercs? Merchants? Treya glanced up from Mrrak and looked over Vikktor and Flikk again. They don't look like what I think merchants look like. They look like... like fighters. Is that what a 'merc' is?
"Something wrong, kid?" Vikktor asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She hesitated a moment, then asked, "What's a 'merc'?"
The blank look Vikktor gave her was almost amusing, as was his stammered attempts at answering her question. She understood something about 'fighters for hire', and 'Clanless nomads' - or at least she thought she did - but most of the rest of his attempt went completely over her head. It was Flikk who finally took pity on both of them and answered properly.
"A 'merc' is a mercenary. Warriors who fight specifically for pay, instead of loyalty or honor. They don't belong to any specific Clan or group, but instead are hired by anyone who can pay their fees and require their services."
Treya pet Kyar's scaled side absently, as she chewed over the explanation, and the offer. I am Clanless, they are Clanless. We are alike in that much, at least. And... I rather like these two. They're not treating me like a beast.
"I am no warrior," Treya began to say.
Vikktor cut her off, "Nonsense. Get some lessons under your belt, and you'd probably be able to best everyone but me'n Flikk."
Treya had to smile at Vikktor's insistence. She liked his brashness. "I'll stay with you."
"Aha! Good! I'll go have Zari get a room set up for you!" Vikktor exclaimed as he started walking out of the infirmary. "Be back in a bit!"
She blinked and glanced at Flikk in confusion. He had a wry smile on his face, and his blue eyes were warm.
"Welcome to the insanity," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.
Insanity was a good word for it, Treya figured, as she stared wide-eyed at the small gathering of strangers that she and Flikk had walked in on. The room was obviously used as a small dining hall, with several long tables with benches in it, a few smaller tables with chairs around them, and complete with racks of bottles and stacks of barrels behind a long counter that ran along one wall.
Twelve dracomorphs were currently relaxing in the room, accompanied by two 'humans' (who knew if they were really as human as she was, or if they were just better at shapeshifting than the rest), and one dragon. Though, 'relaxing' was a bit strong of a word to use. A dracomorph woman with soft violet skin was arm wrestling with a hulking, sky blue dracomorph. The others were all gathered around and cheering for one or the other, tossing insults and taunts back and forth until Treya couldn't keep track of who was saying what.
At her side, Flikk cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of several of the group. As they went silent, others followed, looking towards the door to see what was going on. Finally, a loud thump! echoed through the silence, as the violet dracomorph took advantage of the distraction to break the stalemate and win the contest.
Treya shifted closer to Flikk's side as fifteen sets of eyes fixed on her and her Growlers. Mrrak bristled at the attention, giving a warning growl as his spines rattled together in threat. Kyar merely glanced from Treya to the gathering and back again, clearly asking her if she really wanted him to go into guard-mode, or if he could just relax at her side.
"Mrrak...," Treya's voice cracked, and she had to clear her throat and try to give the command again. "Mrrak, down."
She jumped when Flikk's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and jumped again when his voice boomed out. Not that it was loud, exactly, just... carrying. Powerful. A command-voice, that made her want to obey, even if it wasn't directed at her.
"Everyone, this is Treya." Flikk was saying, "She'll be staying with us for a time. Try not to drive her off with your shenanigans, would you?"
And just like that, she felt the atmosphere of the room change from overt curiosity to acceptance. Treya watched in surprise as the small gathering either flashed smiles at her, gave little waves, or simply went back to their entertainment as their natures dictated.
The violet dracomorph stood up, waving off more challenges, and wove her graceful way through the gathering to stand before them. Treya watched in confusion as the lady brought her hand up to her forehead for a moment, then brought it back down.
"This the kid Cap'n Vikktor told me 'bout?" The dracomorph asked.
Flikk nodded, "She is. Treya, this is Lieutenant Zarilyna."
Lieutenant Zarilyna nodded an absent greeting to her, then addressed Flikk again, "Want me t'show her her room? The layabouts only just finished puttin' it t'gether."
"If you would. Thank you."
Flikk patted Treya's shoulder once more in reassurance, then broke away, heading across the room towards one of the several doors. Treya gazed after him anxiously, then glanced up at Zarilyna and swallowed. Like that, she'd been handed off into the paws of yet another stranger.
Zarilyna watched her for a moment, a small frown creasing her brows, "Hey, kid, don't look at me like that. I don't eat kids for breakfast... not anymore, at least."
Treya swallowed hard and took an involuntary step backwards. Just what, exactly, had Flikk left her in the presence of?
"Oi," Zarilyna tossed her hands up in a quick gesture, then turned and beckoned Treya to follow her. "I'm kidding, geez. C'mon, yer room's this way. Yer next to Kirada, nicest dragoness you'll ever meet, so don't be 'fraid t'ask her anything."
Reluctantly, Treya followed along behind Zarilyna as she led the way across the room and towards another door.
"That," Zarilyna said, as she gestured towards the door Flikk had disappeared through, "leads t'the kitchen, th' armory, th' storage room, Flikk and Vikktor's office, and their rooms. Fer the most part, unless yer called to go there, leave it be. The door at the back leads t'a small trainin' room... well, small as things can get in a place like this. None of us practice with live steel, cept the Captains on rare occasion, so don't worry yer little head 'bout walking in unannounced."
Treya nodded, unsure exactly what Zarilyna meant by 'live steel', but not feeling comfortable enough to ask. The door Zarilyna opened led into a hallway with door after door along it. The ones closest to her had small name-plates on them; on her right, 'Zarilyna', 'Eyo', 'Tryo', 'Maeve and Asrar', 'Alida, 'Seagahn', and 'Taisthen', and on her left 'Haart', 'Kinai', 'Kirada', a blank room, 'Vishan', 'Rohir', and 'Kjalmir'. Fourteen names, matching the woman next to her and, likely, thirteen of the others out in the entrance room. Who had been the fifteenth person, then?
Zarilyna's voice interrupted her musing, as the woman pushed open the door after Kirada's and gestured for her to enter. "And this'll be yer room. When Elvonten gets a moment, he'll make a name-plate for you, as well."
That seemed a bit odd. She wasn't part of this group, but she was being given a room with her own name-plate? The willing acceptance that she had noticed after Flikk made his announcement came back to her mind. Was it simply that easy? Flikk and Vikktor said something, and the others accepted it?
She licked her lips nervously and paused at the threshold of the room, forcing herself to look up at Zarilyna and meet the other's eyes. "Who's the... the fifteenth?"
Zarilyna's brow furrowed, and she glanced down the hallway back towards the dining room. A moment later, her expression cleared, and she gave Treya a lopsided smile, "That'd be Tajakith. Cute lil dragon-brat that can take human form. His room's over with the Captains' rooms."
Since Zarilyna seemed to be waiting for her to do something, Treya shifted her gaze from the woman to the room she was being offered. Not nearly as large as she had feared (Myrsilk dens tended to be far too huge for her tastes, especially on her own), one corner was dominated by a bed large enough for her and both Mrrak and Kyar, a small table stood next to it, a large wardrobe, a desk, and a bookshelf shared another wall, and a plush, colorful area rug covered the floor. In Myrsilk tradition, what wall wasn't covered by furniture or shelves had tapestries hung from it, though these seemed to be simply decorative, instead of history-tapestries.
Curious, Treya slipped into the room, her Growlers following along behind her, and began to poke around.
"Had t'guess yer size," Zarilyna spoke up, as Treya pulled the wardrobe open and looked inside at the stacks of clothes in all colors and cuts. "There should be somethin' in that mess that fits."
Is this how they greet everyone? Treya wondered, as she ran a hand over the soft fabrics, so different from the worn, coarse material she'd grown used to wearing for warmth and protection. The sight of so much clothing gathered just for her was astonishing. Even as a little kid, she'd never had a room like this, or clothes as fine as these.
"Bathroom's through th'door in the back." Zarilyna continued, "Food's up in a couple'a hours. I'll have someone come get ya if yer not around, else ye'd get nothing the way these pigs eat!"
Treya gave Zarilyna a tentative smile, and said, "A-alright. Thanks."
"Don't sweat it." Zarilyna said with a shrug, "Jes makin' sure the boys don't overlook ya."
With that, Zarilyna turned and left, shutting the door behind her. Treya glanced once more around the room she'd been given, then down at Mrrak and Kyar, a grin on her face. "Let's make ourselves comfortable!"
"Treya, do you have a moment?" Flikk asked.
She looked up from the dishes that she was cleaning and nodded, gesturing with one sudsy hand to a stool nearby. Barely a week into her living with the mercenaries, and she found herself falling into a comfortable routine with them: book lessons with Kirada, blade lessons with Zarilyna, cooking lessons from whoever had kitchen duty when she was free, and numerous small chores like washing the dishes and cleaning up the common room. They accepted her as one of them, without question, unlike the Myrsilk and the rest of the Clan.
Flikk settled down on the stool, adjusting his sword as he did so. A silence settled upon the room again, as Treya continued to wash the dishes and Flikk watched her calmly.
This, too, was something she was growing used to. Flikk could swing from calm as Kyar to wild as a hawk, and the only way to tell which it would be was to talk with him. Vikktor was more steady in his personality, jovial and good-natured, and had a way about him that let him control Flikk without his partner being consciously aware of it.
"The Myrsilk have called a Passing Gather," Flikk finally spoke, breaking the silence.
Treya paused in her washing, as she dredged up the significance of what Flikk had said. A dim memory arose of loud voices, of a brother announcing he'd train under the Hunt-master, of other children announcing their chosen paths. She remembered looking forward to her fourteenth birthday with excitement, and planning on asking the records keeper to take her in.
"They want Vikktor and I to attend, as we represent a distinct profession within the Clan, apparently." Flikk continued when it was clear she wasn't going to say anything. "They made no mention of you, though."
That shook her out of her memories. She glanced at Flikk and saw a puzzled expression on his face, as if he couldn't understand why the Myrsilk had deliberately ignored her, when she was old enough to participate. This, at least, she could answer.
"They don't see me as old enough," Treya said. "To them, there's too much I don't know."
Flikk shook his head angrily, the tails of his bandanna fluttering behind the motion of his head. "That's stupid. You're not dumb--"
"I didn't say I was dumb," she interrupted him before he could work himself up. "I said that there's too much I don't know, from their point of view. And there is."
"What do you mean? Kirada's been telling me how much you know, how well you read. Does that not matter?"
She carefully set the final plate on the drying rack and then took a moment to rinse her hands clean and grab a towel to dry them with, then turned to face Flikk. She observed him as she rubbed her hands dry, noting his annoyed expression and the spark of anger in his eyes. It felt strange to know that anger was there for her, that he was trying to defend her as best he could, even if it was against ancient custom that he seemed to barely comprehend.
"It does matter," she reassured him as best she could, "It matters a lot. But... children who grow up part of a Myrsilk Clan are expected to know certain things, and I don't. Elyissa tested me, and I'm barely at the level of a ten year old."
"You know there's always a place for you amongst the Devyr."
Treya blinked, then smiled, "Thanks, Flikk."
"Would you at least like to tag along with us? I know the Myrsilk don't consider you old enough, but maybe seeing you with us would help?"
The thought had merit. If she came as the ward of the Devyrs, the Myrsilk might just let her go. With that in mind, she nodded her acceptance to Flikk.
"Good. It's tomorrow afternoon. I'll come get you after lunch."
That settled, Flikk slid down from the stool and padded out of the kitchen, humming softly to himself. The room felt almost lonely without some Devyr's presence in it, and Treya quickly hung the towel back up and hurried back to the common room, where she knew the current off duty members would be hanging out.
Strange, how quickly she had gotten used to their boisterous presence.