what are you doing here?

[small_magics]

Isibel has never seen an odder collection of fauna. She has not traveled extensively, but she is sure that creatures of this size - lizards as heavy as ten elves together, beavers eight and nine feet long, turtles with shells the size of small houses - are not customary. Yet the island is riddled with them.

The creatures have no particular fear of elves, but nor do they seek them, and none of her party have been attacked; she feels safe enough traveling through the forest on her own, stepping lightly, looking for the sweep of the treeline and any springs that might be useful for settlers if elves settle here. Besides, she is a student of the small magics, some of which may be cast quite rapidly if there is need; she could frighten away an animal that took too much interest in her. The ribbons tied around each of her knees and ankles (blending seamlessly with the rest of her travel outfit) are some of her finest small magic, guiding her steps so that she may place her feet as elves ought to be able to and bring no embarrassment to her House. They don't make her truly graceful, but she can walk, and care will do the rest.

She's deep into the forested part of the Unknown Island when she starts finding statues. Old statues. The trees have grown up around them, it looks like, they've been here that long; they're worn and weathered and have lichen growing on them.

And they're all of unicorns.

The oldest sculptures are none too skillful, but as she proceeds inward towards the center of the island, they become newer and better and it's plain to see that they're not of unicorns, but a unicorn. A unicorn with a broken horn; this is not, it soon becomes apparent, random damage to early statues. Someone has carved a specific unicorn, dozens - hundreds? thousands? - of times. And the art has been made with such intense love, and the newest of the statues are so delicately done that they look almost like real unicorns, with all the magic that implies, though they hold still and are on closer inspection all still carved from stone.

Someone loved this unicorn, and lived on this island, and made a thousand statues of her, and now the place is inhabited only by giant animals that certainly could have done no such thing. Isibel wonders what happened to the sculptor. To the unicorn, too.

On she walks.

Comments

[endragoned]

He smiles, and closes his eyes and furls his wings and hugs his arms against himself and nestles his head on his shoulder.

The dragon is sleeping, apparently.

[small_magics]

Isibel nods.

...And then she draws a stylized little elf.

And then another and then another and then a lot of dots. (This number of dots does not represent the size of her expedition.)

She circles them, then turns back to the map and taps the island.

[endragoned]

He throws up his hands, gestures to himself, touches wings, horns, the dots on the page, tips his head to one side and looks at her challengingly.

[small_magics]

She flings up her hands and looks away, biting her lip; she doesn't know what to do. Most people would have killed him on sight.

[endragoned]

He sighs.

[small_magics]

Isibel draws a stylized little demon - clearly female, no wings, not this particular demon. Then she draws a book, page around the illustrated Vestakia: this is a legendary figure. Then she draws the little demon again with a unicorn's head in her lap, and then the little demon among little elf figures, everyone standing around and nobody killing anybody else.

She taps the paper with her pencil, thinking; this demon is not the Legendary Vestakia, but there is some precedent for red-skinned demonic-looking entities living peacefully among elves.

[endragoned]

He looks from Isibel to the drawing to Isibel to the drawing and back to Isibel, frowning in obvious confusion.

Touches the Vestakia figure. Touches the unicorn's head in her lap. Touches the burn on his hand.

[small_magics]

Isibel nods. There aren't any live unicorns around anyway. She draws a mini family tree for Vestakia: demon doodle plus human doodle equals Vestakia with Shalkan's head in her lap. She draws circles around the demon father's horns and the human mother's heart. Then she draws this demon under all that, and an arrow from him to the family tree, and crosses it out firmly, and throws up her hands again, he's not Vestakia, he can't prove himself like Vestakia could, she doesn't know what to do.

[endragoned]

He laughs and nods.

[small_magics]

She turns the page; this one's out of space. She doodles his dragon meeting the elves, no demon in sight.

[endragoned]

He studies the drawing.

He nods, but hesitantly.

[small_magics]

She then draws an elf with a dragon, turns back to the map and describes a path between Elven Lands and the island, and doodles the two dragons facing each other, mouths open to speak - might they share a language, she wonders.

[endragoned]

He shakes his head.

He touches his dragon on the page; touches himself; brings his hands together in front of him and makes a wide sweeping palm-down gesture to either side, like a vast emptiness. This dragon has never met anyone else.

[small_magics]

Oh well. She shrugs. She doesn't have any better ideas.

[endragoned]

He nods.

He taps the picture of an elf with a dragon.

He points to Isibel.

He points off into the distance, past the pond.

He looks at her expectantly.

[small_magics]

She nods. This dragon doesn't need a new Bondmate; it has an immortal partner already. She should be quite safe.

[endragoned]

He smiles at her, then turns to lead her through the forest.

As he walks, he starts talking again; it's not clear whether he's addressing Isibel or himself, but the distinction isn't all that relevant.

[small_magics]

She listens in case she recognizes any words from somebody's name, but she doesn't. Oh well.

[endragoned]

It's a bit of a walk, but not too long. The Dragonbond Endarkened doesn't seem to mind going barefoot, but perhaps he's used to it.

Eventually, they come upon a cave.

He ducks inside.

When he emerges a few moments later, he is followed by a smallish dragon with indigo scales and bright green eyes.

[small_magics]

Isibel doesn't know how to be polite without a language. So she goes ahead and talks anyway. "I See you."

[endragoned]

The dragon regards her for a moment, then turns its head and bumps its nose gently against the demon.

"Isibel," says the demon. (Something something) "Isibel."

"Isibel," the dragon repeats, edging a little farther out of the cave and arching his neck to study her from closer range.

[small_magics]

Isibel nods, and permits inspection.

[endragoned]

The dragon comes out far enough to spread his wings, which look almost like the end of a sunset, indigo shading to violet shading to pink from the leading edge to the trailing edge of each wing.

He is very, very beautiful. Well, most dragons are.

The demon hugs the base of the dragon's neck and murmurs something to him affectionately, and the dragon lets out a snort that stirs the grass all the way to Isibel's feet.

[small_magics]

Isibel would get out the drawings and start pointing at them helpfully, but she knows perfectly well that the dragon can read the demon's mind. So instead she just looks admiringly. He's so pretty. He might be the prettiest dragon she's ever s-

Isibel stops.

She checks herself: quick assessment of what was going through her head a moment ago and how she is feeling now.

She backs a step away, then another step, then she turns tail and runs back the way they came until she can't see the dragon anymore if she turns her head over her shoulder.

She comes to a stop and touches a tree and leans, breathing hard.

[endragoned]

No one chases after her immediately.

But after a few minutes, there's a rustling in the forest, and the Dragonbond Endarkened comes into view from the direction of the cave. He's moving slowly, and he looks puzzled.