Dragons' Flight and Bahamut Plot end.

[ofthefeymarch]

Suddenly, the sky turns dark.

Above, blocking out the sun, is a massive cloud of young dragons. Small flames from their mouths illuminate them every now and then. Their cries fill the air as the flood out of the Agart volcano in huge numbers. As they move further from Agart, the cloud of dragons thins as they each fly to their mothers.

Most of them.

The eggs left by dragoons in the underworld's lava fields have hatched, too. The dragoons will each find a young dragon flying torard them, chirping playfully.

The clouds of dragons pass as quickly as they came, and once again the sky is empty and peaceful. Across the world, the dragons surrounding cities retreat back to their caves.

In Mist, a tall man watches the young dragons fly overhead, surrounded by a swarm of young children in monks' clothes. He bows his head as they vanish, removing the tri-crested mask on his face to wipe his eyes before replacing it solemnly. One of the children takes his hand, grinning up at him, and another shoves him forward. Together they head toward Rydia's house.

It has been a very long day.

[Anyone is welcome to bother Bahamut if they want to. If you want to meet him in a place other than Mist, just assume the sylphs dragged him there.]

Comments

[ofthefeymarch]

Those defending Fabul attacked her and weakened her hold on me. I was able to break free.

[Bahamut just stares at the child who kicked him, unsure what to do in response to that. Being kicked in the shin is not a social situation that comes up a lot for him. The sylph doesn't seem to care, too busy with the story.]

It. Was. Awesome. She tried to use meteor to take him out, and reflect to protect herself from his Megaflare! And you know what he did? He just ate her right up! In one bite! And then spat out her head!

[Bahamut sighs, bringing a hand up to his face.]

He wanted to bring it here for you. You know, like an 'I'm sorry' present? But we told him that humans don't give the severed heads of their enemies to pretty girls. Strictly a dragon thing, that. So we're keeping it on the table in the cave instead.

[mistlegacy]

[Rydia just nods slowly, taking it all in.]

...I appreciate that. Anyway, I'm just glad they're not longer a threat. This world has seen enough chaos already.

You're welcome to stay in Mist as long as you like, but it sounds like you'll be off again soon?

[ofthefeymarch]

We will be travelling to the crystal-bearing kingdoms of the world. I wish to tell them personally that the danger has passed. And then I must meet with the King and Queen. They are-

-pissed as hell!

-...displeased.

You are kinda homeless, though. Once you're all done saying sorry, we should stay here instead of in the cave. It's sunnier. Come on...

[mistlegacy]

[Rydia smirks, amused despite herself.]

I would like nothing more than for you all to be here with me. It's not an empty offer.

[ofthefeymarch]

Come on, come on! Let's stay in Mist! Let's!

[And Bahamut is swarmed by bitties. He seems a little lost.]

[mistlegacy]

[She chuckles softly, watching this.]

They do have a point, you know. And the people of Mist would be grateful.

[ofthefeymarch]

I shall...consider it. The Lunarian's moon is nowhere to be found, and I have no intention of travelling to a false moon.

See? See? We can live here. We can even get the head from our cave and put it on the wall. It's important to decorate if we're playing human.

[mistlegacy]

I can't blame you for not wanting to go there; I wouldn't, either.

[...she glances to the sylphs, raising an eyebrow.]

Please don't tell Cuore about the head. I don't want her to see one of her 'sisters' like that.

[ofthefeymarch]

Oh, okay. No decorations. We can do that.

[Bahamut sighs as the sylphs begin to squabble over whether this means they can't have decorations or can't have heads. This quickly becomes a conversation about what they should put on the walls instead. One sylph says she likes cats.

...this may take them a while to figure out. Being humans is difficult. But when one of them says flowers might wriggle around less than cats, he reaches down to ruffle their hair and display his preference for the 'flowers' idea.]