shatterverse | (no subject)

Oliver's face, already serious, sobers further. "Forgive me if I pry, but how did you receive such a wound?"

Oliver is more bold in his choice of conversation with a dragon than he would be with a human.

"A battle ages ago-one of the great ones that happens every so often, where it seems as if the entire world has been drawn up into one side or another. The forces of darkness versus those of light, as usual. Another dragon grabbed hold of it with his teeth and broke it before the mage I was carrying killed him. The armor on my upper legs protected that part, at least, but I landed badly and broke the lower part further."

She doesn't sound bothered by it-it was years ago, and she's long since grown used to it.

Oliver shakes his head, expression sympathetic. "Dreadful business.

"A mage, you said?" There's no poor reaction to the word - he's speaking of another world's magic-users, after all, not his own.

She nods, ears flicking as she reminisces. "Yes. It's a standard tactic if it's a mixed army-put magic users on those who can fly so both will be better protected. It works quite well. In that case, it was Rilves-an elf with a particular knack for fire magic." She snorts a bit in amusement. "Though he hadn't much chance to show it off lately. We were both long since retired by the point where I found myself here."

"A dragon and an elf," Oliver repeats, amused. "It's a wonder you could even see him."

Nhim blinks, tilting her head and pricking her ears forward as she peers at Oliver. "Why do you say that? Elves are roughly the same size as humans; it's the halfings you have to watch out for while walking."

Oliver quickly laughs off his mistake. "Oh - in my world elves are known as little people, along with sprites and boggins and such."

No Tolkien-inspired elves for Fremmanland!

Nhim nods, looking thoughtful. "No, ours are quite tall and thin. The sprites and pixies of mine, however-those might be closer to yours. Do yours have a tendency towards insect wings?"

"It's been some time since I thought of children's stories...butterfly wings, I think."

The dragon nods again, looking pleased. "Or dragonfly, but butterfly wings are more common, in my experience."

Musingly, "I've visited some families - country folk, back in Fremmanland - that left food out for the little people though they appeared at church every Churchday. Belief can be a complicated thing."

"I believe in them because I've nearly inhaled one before," Nhim notes dryly.

Oliver chuckles and drags himself back to the conversation at hand. "That would be one way to verify existence, certainly."

"She was rather unhappy about being sneezed out, but I think my nostril makes for a poor roost, frankly. It certainly made breathing easier."

"Not the best start of a fast friendship, I'd think."

He reflects back to their previous conversation. "Regrettably, it seems the polar bears have moved on. I can Call any beast within a day's journey, and I've summoned none."

"No, not quite." Nhim glances around at the mention of polar bears. "It's no great loss, really-I've been eating well off cattle and deer. I brought that one-" she nods her head towards the deer carcass- "As a gift for the dragon shapeshifter you told me of."

"I'm certain she will appreciate it." Oliver is sure of no such thing, but he'll certainly act like he is.

"It seemed only polite. After all, it is her territory."

"She has been quite generous in letting so many strangers congregate here."

Oliver knows Lucy is no demon, but that doesn't mean he has a particular urge to keep discussing her.

"If you will excuse me, I shall go fetch a chair so that I may fully center myself before I start my healing magic."

Nhim nods. "All right." She settles herself more comfortably on the ground-she's likely going to have to hold still for awhile, and she'd rather not aggravate her joints.

And thus, Oliver goes inside. He passes a blonde young girl walking outside, in a jacket a few sizes too big for her.

The girl stops and gapes at Nhim.

Nhim's ears prick forward in a friendly fashion-she's used to being gaped at, and has learned the best way to try and look not so...carnivorous.

"Hello," she says, nodding a greeting.

"Hi," Bridgette echoes, then notes, "You can talk."

"All dragons can, where I come from. At least when they're old enough. Hatchlings just squeak."

"Marie used to squeak - now she talks." Bridge rolls her eyes. "A lot."