When Anger Rises... ~ When Anger Rises... ~
As Syaa ran around, expending inexhaustible amounts of energy, Adrasteia looked around their surroundings with a growing anger.
“So what you’re trying to tell me,” she asked the man slowly, “is that she was here, but is gone?” “Big light gold dragon? With some man on a light bronze? And with two babies? Don’t get many of those, so I’m pretty sure they’re gone.” “Why were they here? Whom were they talking to?” Adrasteia resisted the urge to shake the man with beautiful control, though Ruair bumped against her leg in warning. “Dropped off soem equipment from Shy, and talked to Ikara.” The man shivered and shook his head. “Who was shy?” Adrasteia asked for clarification, rubbing her forehead where it was beginning to ache. “Not shy, as in a characteristic, but Shy the person.” “There is a person named Shy?” Adrasteia asked incredulously. “Some would say the same about your name,” Ruair whispered, and the man laughed, relaxing slightly and studying them more openly. “Can you tell me where I might find either of them?” The man shook his head. “Shy isn't here, he's at Vella Crean. And Ikara...never can tell with that one.” “Can you give me a general direction to try.” Hesitating he finally gave detailed directions to where Adrasteia might find Ikara. Might being the key word. With directions like he gave, however, Adrasteia suspected he knew quite well where she could be found. “And why exactly do you want to see this woman?” Ruair picked Syaa up and carried her a step or two to get her going in the right direction. “She might be able to enlighten me as the whether or not this is my human.” “I thought,” Ruair said with a sigh, “you’d already come to the conclusion that your human was still on Earth.” “Well yes,” Adrasteia said patiently, as though explaining to a small child, “but I want to know if this is the same human, or a close likeness, or what.” “Why does it matter?” Ruair pressed. “Your human is on Earth, this is just another of many people, and I don’t see the point of going back to Alskyr.” “It is a nice place,” Adrasteia argued, scooping up Syaa and ignoring the wing flapping to be put back down. “But I just want to see her, Ruair. That’s all.” “From a distance?” Ruair asked cautiously. “You’d be content with seeing her from a distance?” “Absolutely,” Adrasteia lied. “I’m serious here, Adrasteia,” Ruair pushed. “I could probably get her to come here, but I’m not going to if you’re going to insist on quizzing her. This woman doesn’t even know you.” “Excuse me,” someone said from behind them, half-running past, a baby gurgling in her arms as she turned the corner Adrasteia and Ruair had been told to take to get onto the sands. “Why would this Ikara be on the sands?” Adrasteia asked curiously, and Ruair rolled his eyes. “I thought you helped your human write these stories,” he teased. “Only sometimes. When she needed little push or the like. And that doesn’t mean I actually paid attention.” “Maybe she's looking at the eggs,” Syaa said, squirming again, and turning pleading eyes on Adrasteia. “Don’t get lost,” Adrasteia warned, turning the corner and studying the wide expanse of sand with interest. She could already feel the heat coming off of it, and wondered what the temperature would read if she stuck a thermometer in the sand. “I forgot to give you this,” the woman who’d passed them called loudly, handing to a tall, average-looking woman an envelope. “You came back here just to give me this?” The woman asked in a silky smooth voice, turning to look at the shuffling dragon still out of sight to Adrasteia. “Kesava wanted you to have it,” the first explained with a sheepish grin, expertly swinging the baby to her other hip. “Anyway, Antoine’s waiting, so I have to go.” “Sure. Take care, dear. And come back to visit, all right?” “Sure,” the woman promised, pausing so the woman could press a kiss on the bubbling baby’s cheek and hurrying toward them again. “Brittany?” Adrasteia asked, impulsively putting her hand out to touch the woman’s arm as she passed. “Do I know you?” She turned and frowned as though thinking fiercely. “If we’ve met, I’m sorry to say I’ve quite forgotten your name.” “No,” Adrasteia whispered hoarsely. “We’ve never met. I’m Adrasteia.” “Adrasteia,” Brittany murmured. “What a beautiful name. I feel like I should know you.” “No,” Adrasteia said with a sad smile. “You shouldn’t. I’m sorry. You have a beautiful baby.” “Will,” Brittany said proudly. “I’d love to stay and talk, but my husband,” “Of course,” Adrasteia stepped back, pasting a smile on her face. “Please, go.” Brittany looked at her one last time, and shaking her head, turned and hurried away. Adrasteia stood looking after her for a moment before turning her hair a dark black and donning black pants and a snug black vest. Her arms she left bare, save the silver snake that wound around her left arm, and she changed her sandals to heavy boots that would protect her feet from the heat of the sands. “I’m sorry,” Ruair said softly, bumping against her leg and turning to look back the way they’d come. “I suppose there’s no reason for us to stay here any longer.” “Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?” The woman called to them from the sand, and Adrasteia looked down at Ruair with a shrug before trudging through the shifting sand. And stopping as soon as she was on it. One of the largest dragons she’d ever seen was shuffling around the sand, grumbling to herself, and once on the sand, Adrasteia could see that she was not alone, but in the company of many large, protective, grumbling females. Her pale, creamy white hide shone in good health and rippled leanly with her every movement while her long tail moved lazily back and forth, save the occasional lash, and the grumbling would deepen to a growl before lightening to a hum. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered, wondering how the non-human had bonded such a magnificent creature. Tilting her head so her silvery hair fell to one side, the woman smiled and beckoned her closer. “I do not recognize you,” she said in greeting, friendly eyes raking her from top to bottom. Adrasteia arched a black brow and mimicked the action, concluding the woman was more beautiful than average, and well dressed. Her hair lightened to a the white-blonde again, though she left the clothing. “How did you do that?” The woman asked, intrigue lighting her stunning eyes. “I,” Adrasteia told her proudly, “am a muse.” Ruair groaned loudly behind them.