s h r y k o s
and there's a madness that's just coursing right through me
He steps through the portal, and the first thing he notices is how many of them there suddenly are. He supposes it should be obvious that he was not the only one summoned to the scene on the shoreline. The spit of land they’re on is unfamiliar to him - so much of Beqanna is unfamiliar to him now - and as the scene settles before him, he realizes they’re standing like wraiths upon the battlefield.
War rages around them - through them - and Shrykos just observes as the Baltians and Stratosians dance about, endless pawns in the fighting. He knows nothing of either group, of their desires and their drives and their passions, and he finds it difficult to care about their plight.
They have been battling one another for centuries, if that is to be believed. Why should he care if they destroy one another?
It is only natural that the group begins to talk amongst themselves, but the dragon stays silent, focusing mostly on the battle swirling around them. Naturally, they bicker as each one has individual ideas on how the warring could have happened - a spurned lover, a bitter rivalry, animosity from the very first meeting of Stratosian and Baltian. They will likely get nowhere, talking themselves in circles, and Shrykos watches as one of them pulls away from the group. He meanders through the battlefield as if searching for a clue, and if he murmurs to the sprite hovering near his face, his voice is swallowed by the din of battle.
Eventually the dragon pulls his attention back to the group, icy eyes glittering as he addresses the sprites. “Beqanna’s magic is the reason we were all dragged into this in the first place, is it not?” he drawls, shifting his wings. “Why is it that her residents are now responsible for two peoples’ plights, and how will it destroy Beqanna if we cannot save them?”
The questions are more rhetorical than anything as the wyvern returns his attention to the battlefield, watching the two groups strike each other down. “Do they share a common ancestor?” he muses, curiosity coloring his gaze. “If they do, perhaps we return to that split - when Baltians became Baltians, and Stratosians became Stratosians. Perhaps something happened then, when one fled to the sky and the other under the sea.”