misty mountains cold [r]

[ender]

Ender circled through the darkest corners of the tomb and then back again. He didn't have to. It was plain to see that there was nothing there. Someone had come here already. The sarcophagus was broken open, the bones of a child exposed and ancient. When he exited, he glanced at the merchant profiteer that funded this whole expedition. Instead of speaking to him, he approached the other brute the merchant had hired. Softy, he said, "Nothing. We've wasted out time." Ender looked again at the merchant, calmly assessing the worth of the man. It was hard to be economically adept when you slept on and off every few decades, but he could handle a simple comparison: the merchant had more than he did, not to mention more than the tomb. "We can make back the wasted time from him," he suggested plainly. No point beating around the bush. "He has enough on buillions him to pay our way to the next job. We leave him the wyvern and his gold, and he can get back to town on his own too." He eyed Shen'lon and noted that the man was bigger than him. He wasn't bigger than him in dragon form though. That applied to most men. All the same, he didn't fancy a fight, else he wouldn't be having this conversation at all. "Split fifty-fifty." Shen'lon

[Shen'lon]

He glanced about the crypt, eyes narrowing as his gaze followed the path of his ... co-worker. So the expedition was a waste of time, big deal -- the larger, more pressing problem was the fact that he had a feeling there was going to be no pay. Shen'lon didn't like that feeling in the slightest. The man followed the child-yet-not-child out of the tomb, grunting in displeasure as Ender spoke. There was no reaction but another grunt at the following suggestion. The only cause of his hesitation was the wyvern beside the merchant; while he didn't doubt their combined (or even singular) ability to fell the beast, there was an uncomfortable itch running over his scars. Then he remembered exactly how much bullion the merchant was carrying and nodded curtly. Shen'lon hefted his axe. "Fifty-fifty." He figured (hoped) the manakete wouldn't go back on his word, because he was about as keen to pick a fight with a dragon as the next guy. He looked at the wyvern. "You wanna knock that out or what?" he asked quietly, gruffly. The merchant was already beginning to give them a suspicious look. ender

[ender]

The man was amenable. Well, good. He'd expected as much, but it still nice to know that he wouldn't have to fend off both the merchant and the mercenary just to acquire a few bars of gold. He cast Shen'lon a strange look. "It's a wyvern. I wasn't planning on knocking it out unless it got frisky around me." He didn't wait around though. Ender shrugged, both his opinion of taking out the wyvern and just to loosen his limbs. "Have it your way. You grab the gold. Don't run off with it, or I'll catch up and eat you." That wasn't a joke. In a blur, he leapt into the air--not far, there wasn't that much space to work with here--and crashed into the wyvern. Some manaketes would rather breathe fire, but Ender was the sort of dragon that liked headbutting things when dragonbreath wasn't necessary. It wasn't like he wanted to kill the thing. Shen'lon

[Shen'lon]

Shen'lon returned Ender's look with a blank stare of his own. It was a wyvern. Did the boy really expect the thing to stand by while he whacked its rider upside the head? But he wasn't the dragon here, so he left the decision of whether or not to deal with the wyvern to Ender's discretion and instead approached the merchant, who was beginning to sweat profusely. There was a roar beside them as the manakete rammed headfirst into the wyvern. The merchant clutched his knapsack to his chest, opening his mouth to doubtlessly bargain his way out of the situation -- -- but one good smack with the handle of his axe and he slumped onto the ground. Shen'lon flipped open the bag to check its contents, then picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder. Gold, check. "What now?" If Ender had any more ideas, the man was all ears. ender

[ender]

Done grappling with the wyvern, they both fell to the ground, Ender the more graceful of the two, transforming back into human form as he landed cat-like on the ground. The wyvern simply toppled over, out cold. Ender looked at the wyvern. He had intended to leave it for the merchant, but... "We could sell the wyvern." How much were wyverns even worth these days? They had been expensive when he was young. Most soldiers couldn't hope to afford one. Granted, that had been a couple thousand years ago. He looked at Shen'lon. He hadn't thought about how they were going to foot it back to civilization. "You could ride it. If we leave him the mount, he could catch up to you." He held out his hand for his share of the gold. Shen'lon

[Shen'lon]

He snorted. "How?" Unless they brought the buyers to the wyvern, because the thing was certainly going nowhere on its own. (And, okay, if he were to be completely honest -- he wouldn't put it past the knocked-out mount to bite off a hand or something when it woke up.) The man leveled a cold, if not slightly disgusted stare at the downed wyvern. "So you're suggesting we stay until it wakes up." Man rode dragon, not the other way around, and neither he nor the wyvern would get very far with the thing unconscious. He wasn't particularly concerned about the threat of the merchant, anyway. Shen'lon hefted the bag full of gold in front of him before opening it, handing Ender half of the bullions in the bag. How the other guy was going to hold them, he didn't really know. "We could walk." Pause. "I could walk." Dragonkid could just fly off to who-knows-where at whim. ender

[ender]

Okay. Maybe waiting for it to wake up would be a bit absurd. "I wasn't the one that wanted to knock it out," he said, but that was nearly just whining. He shrugged. Either way, it was out cold now. "And I've heard a good mount is worth some loose change. At the very least it'd get you back to town faster, even if you waited ten minutes for it to come to." Not that he would know. Ender had never really seen the point of riding any beast of burden--let alone a dragon. The concept of him riding a dragon seemed like it had a redundant step in there somewhere. Ender took the buillions and put them away wherever people stored their four extra lances when they were carrying a full arsenal. He didn't think too hard about it. Ender stared at Shen'lon, not incredulous but blank and devoid of expression. Slowly, he said, "You're going to walk through the desert. Alone. With half a bag of gold." Taken on its own, that wasn't so horrible a thought if you didn't mind a bit of solitude and desert weather. "When you have the option of getting there in one third the time on wyvernback." Shen'lon

[Shen'lon]

In his meager defense, he wasn't the one that headbutted the thing. He did feel better without its huffing and puffing and pointy talons, but Shen'lon somehow got the feeling saying such aloud wouldn't go over too well with the manakate. "Let the merchant have it," he grunted. "I'll live." Risk versus reward, people. And if the dragon decided it was hungry when it came to, no skin off his back; he didn't trust wyverns. (At least manaketes could talk. And think.) The man stared right back at Ender, blinking. "Yes." Was it truly that incomprehensible, or did the guy just like repeating the obvious? He didn't mind the walking or the sand, truthfully. It was the preferable option -- but his partner, used in the loosest of terms, seemed to find some sort of problem. "Why?" ender

[ender]

Ender didn't doubt that Shen'lon would live. Living just seemed like a low standard. It seemed like a particularly low standard when living with added convenience was a certain option. Why walk when you can fly? He wondered if he could keep Shen'lon talking long enough for the wyvern to wake up. Given how many words the human had spoken over the past two days, Ender assumed not. "For the merchant? How charitable of you," Ender commented, benefit of the doubt not extended. There was no why, not one that he hadn't already explained in as few words as he could. He had a feeling that Shen'lon fundamentally did not understand the value of flight as a means of travel. He also had a feeling that he himself didn't understand the value of a long, lonely, and incredibly tedious walk through a desert, one that might be inhabited by bandits or risen or both. Thus, they stood an at impasse, but it wasn't much of an impasse. Ender sighed. "Forget it. You're imbecilic, but fine. We'll walk then." Shen'lon

[Shen'lon]

Ender gave in, which made Shen'lon blink once. No one told the kid -- ignoring the fact that he was technically the kid here -- to stay with him. Shen'lon wouldn't have cared at all if Ender decided to whip out that dragonstone and flap away like the giant, scaly, reptilian thing he was ... but whatever. The insult rolled right off of the man's back. "Okay." He wasn't entirely sure what Ender was thinking, because it wasn't like he needed companionship (or that either of them particularly liked it), but then again Shen'lon tended to not know what anyone was thinking. People were confusing. With a noncommittal grunt, the man turned back to the merchant and quickly nabbed his water canteen before starting the back to the nearest town. It didn't even occur to him that perhaps conversation was in order. ender

[ender]

They had walked all of about five seconds before Ender felt his patience wearing thin. He'd marched with footsoldiers in endless slogs across open fields, but that was as a footsoldier. He hadn't been carrying around a dragonstone and letting the world know that he could sprout wings. After an hour, the tomb was well behind him, and the merchant would've woken up--ideally before the wyvern, or perhaps the wyvern really would eat the man alive. The long silence between him and Shen'lon didn't bother him. He preferred it, all things considered. The desert sun didn't bother him either, nor did the endless sands that made passage difficult. It was the fact that this entire journey was unnecessary. Out of the blue, he asked, "Are you scared of heights?" Shen'lon

[Shen'lon]

Men of few words, they were. Shen'lon was okay with that. There was only so much they could talk about. The weather was dry and hot. The terrain was sandy. He was master of the obvious. They continue onward for a while -- he doesn't bother to keep track of time -- before, out of nowhere, Ender speaks. Shen'lon gives him a sideways glance. "No." The man had climbed his fair share of trees, and while he had never been 'blessed' enough to fly he figured the concept wasn't entirely different. He's not actually all that curious, but he figured the natural follow-up would be, "Why?" ender

[ender]

Unlike Shen'lon, Ender tracked time. He tracked the sun, as it journeyed across the sky far faster than they were journeying across the sands. Things were efficient up in the sky like that. Ender didn't stop walking as they finally spoke. He had no interest in making this trip any slower than it had to be. He only turned to look at Shen'lon when he spoke, and it didn't seem like the man was lying. Not heights then. Then what did he have against flying? "I wanted to know," he answered. Clearly, Captain Obvious needed to guard his rank, because Ender was out for his job. They walked for longer in silence, until the sun lay low on the horizon and the skies were stained violet and red. They should stop to camp soon, before it was truly dark. It'd taken him all day, mostly not thinking of anything at all but occasionally pondering over the nature of his travel companion. He'd drawn his conclusions, and it had taken long enough. "Then, are you scared of wyverns?" Shen'lon

[Shen'lon]

Fair enough. Ender didn't say anything after that, so Shen'lon simply put his focus into placing one foot in front of the other on the ever-shifting sand. If this was how the rest of their lovely, enlightening walk was going to be, it wasn't so terrible. The sun began to sink nearer and nearer to the horizon, painting the sky a myriad of vibrant colors, and it was then that the monotonous sound of feet-on-sand was broken. Again, by Ender. Shen'lon didn't bother to look at the manakete this time. "Hn." And, because not everyone understood grunt-speak, he added, "Had a bad run-in with a few." He rolled his neck, the burn scars mottling his body becoming less noticeable in the fading light. Then, again, "Why?" ender

[ender]

Ender didn't follow. It must've been a particularly bad encounter with a few wyverns, because Ender could take on a few wyverns without breaking a sweat. He knew Shen'lon didn't have his natural advantages, but he doubted that a few wyverns would cause him much trouble either. An ambush, perhaps? It wasn't his business, anyway. Again, Ender answered, "I wanted to know." After a second, he added, "We should make camp." He didn't fancy the idea of sleeping in the desert either. Same as before, he had nothing against the desert and no particular insistence on comfortable arrangements. It was  just that they could've been in town by now. (He still could've, if he'd flown off on his own. The thought didn't occur to him. No fiber of his body considered leaving a man to travel across a country embittered by civil war, haunted by risen, and infested with bandits alone.) He had another question "What do you feel about dragons?" Shen'lon