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    Mazikeen -- Year 214


    "“Content to admire you from afar.” Well that’s just bullshit. She wasn’t *content* to be admired from afar. She would rather not see him at all then be tortured by a buffered distance." --Mazikeen, written by Squirt

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    [open]  i've been around a few; [midsummer fair!]

    Chem waits for night to arrive in the frozen world of his friend Leilan. A place he’s very familiar with, and has always appreciated the free pass to flow in and out like a tide. He’s never been reliable like Nashua, and still the dragon-lord has never made him feel unwelcome. He moves through the cold night, Irsaen spiraled around his scarred left ear, his glowing smoke curling and dancing in his wake. Where his stride disturbs the air, the illuminated smoke rises and freely flows before disappearing, brightly lit like moonlight.

    He finds a hill off to the side of the open Meadow, the aurora borealis at his back. He can see the burnt forest, alive and coming back, the maze, the tracks – it is a proper festival grounds. Even at night it is lit with silver light, torchlight too, a few bonfires. Well done, Leilan. he thinks to himself, a smile spreading across his black lips. His eyes scan the landscape for anyone standing alone, or for anyone who might approach. He was in the mood for a party, certainly.

    astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

    open to anyone, he's just arriving, he waited until night time!
    A party. 

    How marvelous. 

    I haven't been to a party in... such a long time. It had rained that night. 

    Not so this evening, and I am instead bathed in warm darkness. Such a nice change, being warm. It's been such a long time since I felt truly warm. One downside of the long eclipse, I suppose, although the tradeoffs did make it somewhat worthwhile. My tongue clicks the roof of my mouth. Oh well. The sun returned after all, isn't that why we're all here? To celebrate? 

    My crown tilts as I approach the party scene. An icy wasteland glittering with firelight. It is the fires I am drawn to now, the promise of heat and illumination. I would not be the only one though, I suppose warmth comes at the cost of sharing it. That's a less pleasant prospect. 

    A cool breeze is enough to sway my mind in the end. My wraithish figure flows from shadow to light until I find a bonfire with fewer occupants. The heat is fantastic, and I find myself leaning into it recklessly.
    "Oh," he notices the shadowy woman slithering about like she's some sort of ghost. He's not quite sure she hears him, or maybe she intends to ignore him, but either way he watches her make her way to on of the roaring fires close by. The warmth it is throwing is tremendous, and with the cold breeze bellowing off the mountains to the north of where they gather; it feels very nice indeed.

    He approaches her from behind, walking up beside her, not too close but not all that far from her either. Within striking distance of a bite, if she so wanted to.  "Hey," he greets her, a smile, though crooked as usual, bending his black lips. The blazing firelight glistens off of his shiny teal eyes, his head adjusting slightly and his forelock falls to cover one eye. He recognizes her but he can't quite place from where - and her name comes to mind, "You're Sabra, right?" he lets his rumbling voice roll out slow, casual, his tail flicking idly as he tries to place where he may know her from.

    I am absorbed by the heat. Engulfed, ablaze. It shatters my skin into myriad rainbows that dance as I turn to face him. My face is illuminated within and without, eyes greenish in the flickering red light. He's black and white, striking against the glacial backdrop and built for this kind of terrain. A local? 

    "Hey," I say back, mirroring his careless notes. My own smile is ice and fire itself, hungry enough to eat the world. I don't recognize him, but that's hardly surprising. There's very few faces I've held onto over the years. Some I've banished intentionally, others are simple casualties of my existence. When he says my name, I wonder which camp he belongs to. 

    "Most days," I grin viciously. "Who's asking?" I raise my head, searching his face for clues to his identity. Or have I simply gotten notorious, after all these years? A rough bite of laughter emits at the thought. Funny how things work out. How they don't. 

    He chuckles, turning his back to the glowing warmth, a firm smirk on his dark lips. Irisaen comes crawling out of his mane to curl tightly around his left ear, flicking her tongue at the stranger woman. Her iridescent scales glittering in the roaring firelight. Chem’s glassy teal eyes slide back, the eye visible to her as they stand side by side uncovered by his thick forelock. They’re head to foot, he’s respectfully far but close enough for a little conversation.

    Oh, no one major.” He refers to himself, laughing low as he flicks his tail. The heat falls over his speckled back like a blanket in the frigid temperatures. He won’t miss the cold when he goes, but he will miss the Isle in general; and the feeling of brotherhood. Nothing replaces that.

    And how is Sylva doing these days?” he quirks his head toward her, bending his closest ear back.


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