Waiting for both Ennie’s return and a reply from Reito, Vincent remained on the sofa in his living room, with Misty draped over his legs. He scrolled through twitter on his phone for a while, absentmindedly liking and retweeting various things, until he came across an article from the local news that had him raising his eyebrows.

“Gunshots fired in forest near Fairview Heights on the evening of Friday, March 23rd, called police to the area in response. A middle-aged caucasian man was arrested and charged with concealed carrying of a pistol. As it does not seem that there was a victim, he was not charged with assault, and has been released from custody.”

“Tch,” the sun dragon scoffed, “no victim. Right.” Although it had been his decision to avoid contacting the police, Vincent still felt bitter when he thought of the man who had nearly killed him in cold blood getting off with a slap on the wrist simply for having a gun on-hand.

He kept scrolling to find mentions of the fire at Ennie’s apartment as well. Although the newscast had said that it did not seem to have been intentionally caused, there were one or two joking conspiracy comments from viewers mentioning the possibility of the shooting and the blaze being connected.

“тнє ιяσηу σƒ тнєѕє ¢σммєηтѕ ιѕ ѕσмєωнαт ραιηƒυℓ,” Helios mused, and Vincent had to agree. For once, the silly conspiracy theory comments were correct. Not that any of those people would ever know that, of course.

The blonde-haired man huffed a tired sigh, closing the app and setting his phone aside. “That’s enough of twitter for now.” He found his mouth becoming somewhat dry, so he unfortunately needed to dislodge his furry companion in order to get some water. Misty sat up as soon as he moved, giving herself a couple of licks on the chest before curling herself back up in the warm spot he had vacated. After pouring himself a glass of water from his filtered pitcher, he made his way back to the living room, sitting down in a new spot.

Vincent found himself anxiously checking his phone for a response from Reito, or perhaps a text from Ennie on he whereabouts, every few minutes. Ennie had experienced first-hand how dangerous Hunters were, but Reito… the eccentric man seemed to have no concept of the unfortunate consequences of being a dragon. Part of Vincent envied him for that lack of awareness; much of his anxiety came from an inability to fully trust others thanks to the accursed cult. A larger part of him was rather worried that Reito may end up finding himself in a lot of trouble.

He began to twitch a bit, bouncing his leg up and down as he glanced around the room, to which Misty responded with a small meow and a headbutt against his thigh. The sun dragon sighed again, eyeing the stylized analog clock mounted on the wall in the kitchen.

"ωнαт αвσυт тнαт gαмє?" Helios suggested, "αѕѕαѕѕιη'ѕ ¢яєє∂? ωє ¢συℓ∂ ραѕѕ тнє тιмє ву ρℓαуιηg ƒσя α вιт."

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Vincent agreed, standing up to retrieve the PS4 controller which sat neatly upon the glass TV stand. "We haven't visited ancient Greece in a while." He paused, before adding, "and, perhaps it may distract me from worrying so much."

The dragon rumbled, a sound of agreement. Resituating himself on the couch, Vincent turned on the console and loaded in the game.

He didn't have ample time to play, what with his work never truly ending when lectures were completed and all, but Vincent had still managed to reach a respectable level sixty-two, within the time he did play. The gorgeous, bright scenery while wandering the open world did wonders to soothe his frazzled nerves, troubles temporarily forgotten. Having to focus on battling occasional enemies worked well, too.

He and Helios had lived in Greece, many years ago. Although it hadn't been during the peloponnesian war, of course, the visuals of the mountains, forests, beaches, and the crystal-blue ocean sometimes had him reminiscing. That had been one of the more lax times in his life; a time where, for a long while, he had been relatively safe. He had even managed to find love, despite his desire to avoid close relationships with those he would inevitably outlive. It hurt to watch people grow old and die while he, himself, remained youthful and alive. A peaceful time in his life, that had come to an equally peaceful end; his love's time upon the Earth ended naturally with age, and he had felt the need to move on, returning to North America about thirty years ago.

Time really did seem to still, for one with a dragon's soul.

It wasn't long until Vincent realized that poor Alexios had just taken on a ridiculously long and tedious quest this time around, and he groaned somewhat dramatically as he ran around aimlessly searching for twenty of one, rather rare, enemy type to kill with torches of all things. At least it passed the time.

-----

Twenty torched soldiers later, Vincent heard a knock at his door. Oh, Ennie! He paused the game and put the console into rest mode before getting the door for her, and was greeted by a pile of boxes with legs. I didn't even think they would let you buy that many boxes of one thing, he mused, counting almost a dozen Pop Tarts of various flavours.

The blonde-haired man pulled out his phone, scrolling through pictures of the lovely log cabin he had managed to find. The location was nice and secluded, and it had many of the comforts he and Ennie were used to, so he figured it would be a good fit. He felt very pleased when his friend approved of their temporary home away from home. When Ennie made to bring her groceries back down to the rental car, his first instinct was to help her carry some of those falling boxes, but she of course insisted on carrying everything herself. Even still, he and Misty followed the trail of escaping packages all the way to where she had parked, placing them in the trunk before she even noticed he had helped.

The rainforest dragon's concern for the younger dragon was certainly mutual. Vincent had been worrying quite a bit about him, and Ennie herself, earlier that day. Just as he was making an attempt to reassure his friend that Reito was probably okay, he felt something buzz in his pocket. Perhaps a little hastily, he placed Misty down on the ground and pulled out his phone, checking the notification. "It's Reito," he said, not hiding his relief, "he says he will be joining us. He hasn't said when he plans to arrive, though. Perhaps we should go back to my place and wait for him there."

Watching as Anthony slips away into the night, Merce could only bl
ink with shock. The knife suddenly felt heavy where it was clipped, and Amphora growled softly. “Throw it into the nearest body of water.” The dragon hissed viciously, with a hint of something dark in her tone. It was so unlike Amphora that it knocked Merce for a bit of a loop and she suddenly worried she’d somehow pushed the dragon too far with the entire thing. Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Merce started back towards the Emblem Hostel while mentally attempting to sooth Amphora.

‘I can’t do that. Not with his trust placed in me. Plus, maybe we can learn something about the dragonsteel; something we can use to counteract it?’ Merce tried to persuade, thought she could tell from Amphora’s stony silence that she wasn’t convinced. Then again, neither was Merce. Instead of answering the human, the dragon went eerily silent, even after Merce attempted multiple times to get her to talk. ‘I known this is hard for you, and I’m sorry. But peace has to start somewhere, even if the first attempt ends horribly.’ entering the hostel, Merce nodded to the night time receptionist and made her way to her room.

“You know nothing.”

Wincing, Merce all but threw the knife onto the small desk in the room in hopes of appeasing Amphora. It didn’t work. Placing the food down as well, Merce sat heavily in the rickety chair and let her head fall into the hands. ‘I don’t understand why you wouldn't want to learn what you could about the Hunters? Maybe he’ll let something slip that could be useful to you and other dragons!’ Amphora, again, didn’t answer. Frustrated, Merce looked begrudgingly at the knife before throwing the jacket over top of it and attempted to return to the archaeological law book so she could get started on her work. ‘The sooner we finish this project and get out of Canada the better.’ She thought both to herself and Amphora. Nothing. ‘You’re acting like a child!’ Racking her hands viciously through her tangled hair, Merce puffed her cheeks out and began reading to try and occupy her mind.

Having done multiple projects, it didn’t take her as long as she’d have liked to learn what she needed to know to get her project green lighted. Though tired, Merce knew she’d not be able to sleep with so much swimming through her thoughts. Still irritated at her dragon, Merce moved her jacket aside and pulled the knife closer. Pulling it from its sheath, she carefully examined the blade and hilt, turning it over in her hands as she took in what she could. Being Catalan, European history had always interested her; in particular, warfare. Weapons, she’d learned early on, could tell someone a lot about a culture if they knew what to look for. Luckily for Merce, she did.

Unwilling to scour through her bags for an instrument for exact measure, she could tell by eyeballing it that the blade was roughly 24-30cm, which narrowed what it could be down. However, even from first glance she was pretty sure she knew what type of knife it was due to its role in the history of Europe, or at least a more modern ‘recreation’ of one. Though recreation was not exactly right, considering it was definitely designed to kill - not act as a decoration. Add in that it was made with dragonsteel and Merce knew it had been based off a historical type of knife with the intention of it being used and passed through a lineage. Holding it up into the light for a better look, Merce hummed in interest. “Huh, it’s a seax recreation,” she mused.“Narrow Seax with a straight back blade.” Muttering to herself as if there was someone else to listen, she wondered if Anthony would be irritated if she took a picture for her own records. Probably, considering what it was. Plus, Amphora would hate it. “Looks like it’s also got a bolster and pommel cap.”

Replacing the knife into its sheath, Merce pushed back from the desk and rubbed her eyes roughly. “I know you’re still angry, but maybe one day you’ll see that in the long run it was a good idea.” Whispering to Amphora, Merce changed into her sleep clothes, brushed her teeth, and all but fell into the bed. “I didn’t realize there was so much more about you dragons than what you’ve told me.” Rolling into her preferred sleeping position, Merce sighed sadly. “How much more are you keeping from me.” When no answer was forthcoming, Merce smiled morosely into the darkness of the room and tried to sleep.

Cold and darkness. An empty void that never ended no matter how much she tried to find the end. An eternity of hopelessness. Then, so suddenly brightness and warmth enveloped her into its comforting embrace and she was looking back at the world through new eyes. Possessing a human was difficult, at least at first, but Sree made it easy. The young woman had happened upon her stone when cleaning clothes in the river and she’d embraced the dragon without hesitation. The dragon, who’d yet to be called Amphora, had been young and naive and saw the world as Sree did; full of light and love.

The dragon, who’d been called Elii by her human, grew up over a hundred and fifty years alongside Sree. In those years they’d seen the world change drastically. Empires rose and fell, technologies advanced as they explored and lived their life to the fullest they could. Neither had any worries or plans for the future. Then Sree met Kleon, a Barron with much the same outlook on life as them. The two fell in love, and Elii learned to love the human as she did her own host. But it wasn’t until little Nerissa was born that Elii, who would become Amphora, truly understood love. The tiny child, though not her biological own, was still hers. Together, human and dragon watched their daughter grow. Sree had been terrified that she’d outlive Nerissa, but Elii would not allow such a thing; she’d make sure Nerissa aged alongside them.

The family was happy living with Kleon in his estate. Warm summers surrounded by nature and fondness. Winters cuddled together and a house filled with laughter. When Kleon grew sick one winter a traveling priest was summoned to aid him. Elii thought nothing of the priest, who smelled strongly of lavender and cloves and who made Kleon stop coughing long enough to embrace his eight year old daughter. For two week the priest stayed with them; aiding Kleon, playing with and teaching Nerissa, talking to and comforting Sree.

Happiness, Elii found, could be shattered in an instant. The Priest was no priest, but rather someone far more sinister. Nerissa found out too late. Sree’s screams as she dropped beside their lifeless daughter echoed Elii’s own heartbroken roar. The priest-turned-Hunter, who they’d trusted but now smelled of death, was not expecting the sudden shape-shifted dragon when he’d attempted to sneak upon their grieving form. Fire and blood became Elii’s closest friends and she sought to raze down the world around her in revenge for the little life lost. The Hunter fell first under her teeth and talons, then the home she’d shared with Nerissa by fire. The town where other Hunter’s could be hiding. The neighboring farm. The village on the other side of the river. Everything that stood in her way.

For days Erii’s grief and fury overtook her and in the end it was sheer exhaustion mixed with grief that finally pulled her under. Her human was worse for wear after so long locked into her own mind with nothing but the images of her slain daughter as her last conscious memory for company. But to realize what her once closest friend had done on top of Nerissa’s death was to much. People were dead, entire towns wiped out, because of her and Erii. Curled against a tree Sree wept for Nerissa, for Kleon who Erii had killed in her madness; for herself. The human knew what she had to do before the dragon re awoke from her fatigue. The still ruins of what was once her home offered her the knife of the Hunter that she needed.

Sitting among the ashes, Sree looked to the sky and prayed she could be forgiven for all she’d done. She prayed for Nerissa and Kleon’s souls, for all those she’d inadvertently killed. And for Erii to forever be locked inside a stone so she could never harm anyone again. Twin, deep cuts on her human forearms ended it all. As for Erii, who would later become Amphora, she was once again plunged into the never ending void. Maybe she did deserved to stay there forever. To repent for what she’d done by having nothing but memories of a time full of love and laughter, of a beautiful daughter stolen from her.

Waking with a gasp, Merce futilely wiped at her eyes as tears dripped from them. Choking back sobs, she moved to sit at the edge of the bed and cover her mouth as she stared wide eyed at nothing. It all seemed so real, a jumble of memories streamed together into a cohesive movie filled with joy and so much sorrow and anger. “Now you know.” Amphora’s voice was strained, as if she herself had been crying - if such a thing was possible. “Why I hate Hunters, why I will never trust him. Because I trusted one and he killed Nerissa, my daughter, in cold blood to get to me.” Voice shaking, Merce could almost feel the grief the dragon never shed; though there was none of the violence she’d experienced in the dream.

“I’m so sorry. So so sorry Amphora.” Merce whispered, voice cracking as she closed her eyes tightly and leaned over as if about to be sick. “I never should have asked, brought those memories up.”

“I should have told you some of it sooner. Maybe not everything, but about Hunters and… and more about what I’d done.” There was so much self loathing and despair in her deep voice Merce shivered with it. “Hunters tell stories of dragons who’d terrorized humans, burned down their cities and killed their families. And I was one of them. That rage and sorrow over Nerissa blinded me. That is no excuse, I know. And I’ll never be able to repay anyone for what I did.”

“Your first host, Sree, she killed herself over everything?”

“Yes. She found the Hunters knife and ended it. She died hating me, you know. I was so tired I could do nothing, but also I didn’t want to. I didn’t want her to have to live everyday with me knowing she’d unleashed me upon the world.” Getting to her feet, Merce stumbled over the window and peered outside through bleary eyes. “I don’t like to fight for that reason. Because I know what happens when I get angry - so I control myself. I don’t want you to go through what Sree did in the end.”

“How long were you in the stone before I uncovered you? In the dream, I felt your conviction that the time would be a penance for you.” Looking towards the city, Merce suddenly didn’t feel much like going to meet Anthony. Amphora’s memories, of her betrayed trust in a Hunter, were still fresh in her mind. As was the image of a young girl with bright honey eyes and a riot of dark curls. Could she face Anthony now knowing what she did? Was he playing her?

Leaning against the rickety bed frame, the human attempted the gather up the mental and physical energy needed to grab her shoes and leave. The Hunter’s knife was like the beacon of a lighthouse in the dim room; which tended to warn people where not to go. Easy to notice but screaming danger. For the first time Merce understood it. A part of her itched to throw it out the window or down the nearest water drain. The other, louder part knew she’d drown in guilt if she did. Sighing, Merce ran her hand through her tangled hair and winced as a tangle pulled. “For once, I hate that I’m so easily guilted into things.” She muttered aloud, just so the room didn’t seem so quiet.

“You’re too nice for your own good.” Amphora laughed, though it was still a bit strained. It was as if the events of the night had taken such a toll on them both that even the thought of leaving the room was exhausting. And Amphora actually lived these events. A part of Merce wondered if she shouldn’t be afraid of her dragon now, knowing what she did. Maybe a small piece of her was, but that she didn’t know the love of a child she could not hope to understand what Amphora had truly felt in those moments. Such rage and devastation. She thought, and itched to in some small way comfort her.

Knowing that doing so would only end in a rebuff, Merce moved to put her shoes on, finished getting ready, clipped the knife back underneath of her jacket, and grab her small purse which held her money and passport. Locking the door behind her, Merce stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and made the walk to the cafe without truly paying much attention to her surroundings. It came into view quicker then she expected, or she’d simply lost track of time, and she had to bl
ink a few times to make sure she was at the right place. Groaning rather loudly, she slumped closer. Coffee was the first and most important item on her to do list; she knew she felt like a zombie, and frankly she was scared to know how closely she resembled one.

Dropping her finger from Anthony’s mouth, Merce turned her bleary gaze towards the cafe and whimpered. “Please be open.” Slumping towards the door, she shoved it ajar and all took her place behind an older lady ordering her own drink. The second the customer in front of her left happy, Merce leaned her elbows heavily on the counter and stared up at the menu. She knew she looked a bit like death warmed over, eyes red rimmed and hair a rats nest. Maybe she’d care later, but the scent of fire was still in her nostrils and Amphora’s grief was loud in her head. Rubbing at her face, Merce couldn’t blame the barista for looking at her oddly. “I’d like a large caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso please.”

Moving aside to await her order, she closed her eyes and yawned widely. But behind her lids the images of a little girl and her mother were there, smiling brightly. Shaking her head quickly, Merce attempted to put her mind on something else before she started tearing up again. But before she could, her name was called and she perked up at the scent of her strong drink. All but skipping back to the cash register, she paid using her card and swiftly took a gulp. Though it burned, she could all but feel the caffeine from the coffee and espresso pump through her veins. Though still not feeling fully human, yet, she returned to Anthony. “So, want to explain why your so chipper this early? It’s kinda scary.”

“I had a quick coffee before I came to see you” he says back with a slightly less enthusiastic smile, before getting the attention of the barista and ordering ‘the usual’ from her, which he paid in cash. “I do have a few things we need to discuss though” he adds, as his own order of a coffee of some deion and a wrapped breakfast sandwich appeared. With an amount of gusto that belied his size he unwrapped. bit into and chewed the sandwich.

Merce took another long gulp of her coffee, cringing at the strong taste of espresso. “Yeah, I suppose we do have some things to discuss.” She muttered, watching with vague amusement as the hunter all but inhaled his sandwich. Then she remembered what exactly they were supposed to talk about and quickly looked away to hide her pained ex
pression. Merce’s emotions tended to be reflected on her face and she knew Anthony would figure out something was wrong with her without much problem. How was she supposed to talk about her and Amphora without blurting out anything that had to do with what she’d seen? “So, you got an idea where you want to have this discussion?”

At the question, Anthony took another bite of the sandwich, turned to look out of the window for a second, his head straight, before he finally looked up slightly and then went back to looking straight, before turning back, gulping the mouthful, and giving a slight grimace. “Well, if you trust me enough, we can use my place. There isn’t anywhere closer, unless where you are staying is more secure?”

A moment later, Anthony makes a face again as he bites a little crunchy salad, before swallowing. “Why do they add salad into these?” before looking at Merce again, and lowering his voice, and almost talking into the sandwich. “I... found something out, about friends of us both.”

Merce contemplated Anthony’s offer, weighing the pros and cons. Amphora growled softly in her mind, clearly not happy about it. “I don’t like this, it could easily be a trap.” Amphora hissed. I don’t think so. I mean, what if we kept the knife? There was not an answer, which was almost as good as an agreement but it was obvious the dragon was not pleased.  

“I have a lockbox, in my place, if heirlooms are of a concern to you” Anthony quietly adds, taking a sip of coffee.

Amphora grumped but Merce could feel her compliance. Shaking her coffee around a bit to mix the flavors, she took a sip before answering. Pushing Amphora, when both of them were still a bit fragile, probably wasn’t a good idea. After a moment of silence from the dragon Merce finally nodded. “As long as the heirloom is in the lockbox, and we have the key, your place sounds like it will work.”

With a slight grin, Anthony opens the door of the cafe to let Merce outside, and a moment later, he twitches his nose as if to notice something. “If you want to use my shower while you are in mine, you are welcome to as well.”

Following along behind the hunter, she scowled playfully at his choice of words. “If you’re trying to subtly tell me I stink, you’re as subtle as a brick to the face.” She told him, laughing softly. “But actually, yeah a shower would be nice. Though,” pausing she sighed mournfully, “I don’t have any clothes on me.” Finishing off her drink, she tossed the empty cup into one of the trash cans that randomly appeared on the side of the street. “You mentioned something about some news about ‘friends’ of ours? What does that mean?”

“It’s safer if I tell, and show, you that when we are in the secure place.” Anthony sends back with a nervous groan, gulping for a moment and waiting at the edge of the street for Merce to stand next to him. “And you don’t stink. You just look a little dead on your feet.”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Merce paused beside of Anthony at the edge of the street. “Not ominous at all.” His last comment had her huffing a slightly bitter laugh, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well last night was... rough. How far is your place, anyway?” She asked, hoping to deflect his attention.

Anthony pointed up slightly, allowing Merce to follow his finger to a window overlooking the street. “Up there.” he says, putting his other hand gently on the small of Merce’s back as the cars thinned out for a few seconds, in an effort to get her to cross before she changed her mind. “C’mon.”

Anthony’s touch sent Amphora’s hackles up, and Merce could feel the dragon readying herself for an attack. The unprotected back was their most vulnerable area, and the have a hunter right there with the scent of dragonsteel in her nose made Amphora furious. Easy! Merce mentally yelped, knowing her eyes were suddenly blazing gold as the dragon fought her instincts. Even though the dragonsteel was on her person and not in Anthony’s hands Amphora still hated it. Jerking away from Anthony quickly lest Amphora deem it too much Merce shot the hunter a apologetic look. “Touching probably isn’t a good idea. She can smell the dragonsteel, and having a hunter so close at the same time is already putting her on edge. I don’t think she can stand being touched as well.”

At that, Anthony nods slightly. “Sorry, Amphora. Just trying to get us across the street.”

Hoping to defuse the awkward atmosphere, Merce cleared her throat and looked at the building. “Lead the way.”

After the pair cross the street, Anthony opens the door on his Apartment complex and leads Merce up to his front door, opening it up a moment later, to let her in. “The walls won’t bite, and the wifi is decent.”

“Heh, I’m pretty sure Amphora would bite harder.” She mused, looking around curiously. “So, now can you tell me what you meant? You’ve got me curious.”

Anthony nodded, closed the door behind him, and gives Merce the piece of paper with the notes he took earlier on. “Before I explain, go to the top link. When you read it, I will explain.”

Clicking on the indicated link with a huff of irritation at being roadblocked again, she began reading. It didn’t take her long to understand why this was important, but also terrifying. “So you’re saying Hunters attacked and burned down another dragons home.” She paused, mouth hanging open a bit. “Another dragon. Holy crap I always thought Amphora would be the only dragon I’d ever meet.” Then she sombered once more. “How did you hear about all of this and know what you were reading?”

Nodding to affirm her words, Anthony puts his coffee and half eaten sandwich on the counter top, and goes to open the closet and grab a metal box with a key in the top out of it. “I get alerts when reports come in, through a backdoor in the Hunter’s systems they never fixed. That happened while I… We… were asleep.” he says, distracted. “I think the Dragon they attacked escaped though. D-Do you want to sit down?”

Looking at the box, Merce placed her hand over the blade before nodding in thanks. Taking a seat at the kitchen’s table, she placed her elbows on her knees and cradled her head. “I hope the dragon did; I mean that’s awful, to lose your home like that.” Still, the knowledge that there were other dragons, and close by if it was still in the vicinity rattled around in her head.

“I could have told you that.” Amphora muttered, sounding miffed. And yet you never did. There’s a lot of things you haven't. She replied morosely, though without accusation.

“Is there a way you Hunter’s have of actually tracking dragons? Or is is more luck than anything?” Luck was how she and Anthony had met, after all.

“There are specialists in the Hunters. Like I told you before, I was an archiver. I read, or I used to read, through the archival reports, and sorted the stuff out.” Anthony says to answer Merce, as he puts the lockbox on the worktop next to her. “Are… Are you okay?”

Opening the box, she carefully took the knife and its sheath off her waistband and placed it inside the box. There were pictures inside, one of Catherine and two people she was presuming were his parents at the top, thus visible. Other miscellaneous items were also inside, and though she wanted to poke her nose in further she figured it would be a bit better not to. Closing the box she locked it and put the key in her pocket. Amphora rumbled, glad the offending ob
ject was off their person and someplace difficult for the hunter to get to.

“I’m not really okay, no.” She muttered, sighing. “Last night was… rough. And now I’ve learned there’s other dragons; one of which was nearly murdered last night!” Huffing a breath, she rolled her shoulders before clapping her hands loudly. “Well, maybe we should get this over with then before I finally lose my d*mned mind.”

“It… It might not have been just one attack.” Anthony adds, pulling his phone out and opening the news report about the shooting on it, then showing it to Merce. “This was Hunters too. Whoever did it… Basically got away with a slap on the wrist, from the police at least.”

As Merce looked at the report, Anthony put an arm around her shoulders and gives her a gentle smile. “You look like you need this, and a shower, before the interview. If I bring you a bathrobe, and some towels, and as long as you don’t use all the hot water in the building, you can collapse and cry in there.”

Having not actually been hugged for… a very long time, Merce leaned into the embrace with a sigh. Amphora held her tongue, clearly realizing her human needed this but was weary by the fact that they were being hugged by a Hunter. After a moment Merce cackled and pulled away, rubbing her face. “I did need that, thanks. Just, wow already this day has been a lot.” Looking towards the open door that obviously led to the bathroom, she started towards it and paused in the doorway to wait for the bathrobe and towels.

Opening the closet again, Anthony grabs 2 large, fluffy yellow towels out and passes them to Merce, then grabbing 2 bathrobes out, one green and short, and one purple and long, and regarded Merce, with one in each hand. “Which one do you want to take in there, while I set the interview equipment up and finish my food?”

Looking from the clothing items back to the Hunter, Merce could feel her eyes sting. For fifty years she’d been, while not necessarily alone, estranged from others. With a secret as big as Amphora it was easiest to leave a wall up between her and other people. Easier, but no less lonely. And now here was this near stranger, who’d been raised to kill her kind, offering her towels and a choice of bathrobe. Without much thought Merce moved forward and threw her arms tightly around Anthony, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” She whispered, meaning more than just the offered linens.

As if to remind them that yes, she was still there and not happy about the physical contact, Amphora surged forward and overtook her human host for a second, sinking her claws lightly into the Hunter in warning. “Watch yourself, Hunter.” She hissed, dragon voice through her humans mouth more of a hiss and deeper; almost a rumble. The dragon was reminding Anthony that though her human was vulnerable and easily taken advantage of, Amphora was not.

Blinking as she regained her vision and control, Merce stepped back and looked curiously at her hands. She’d felt something while in her mind, though distant and painless, things that were not her own yet were. It made no sense, but there was specks of blood under her nails and her eyes widened with horror at the realization that Amphora had brought out her claws. “I’m so sorry!” She squeaked, mentally berating Amphora. “She didn’t do any real damage, did she?” The images of blood and ruin flashed in her mind's eye and Merce suddenly felt sick.

As Merce moved away, Anthony had a slight pained look, but to his credit, didn’t whimper, while trying to not hurt her feelings. “Nothing too bad,” he lied, while still holding the robes. “Though if you can pass me the first aid box before you occupy the bathroom, I would appreciate it?”

Wincing, Merce turned and began rummaging through the cabinets until she came across a familiar white box with a red cross. Pulling it out, she held it up to Anthony to take. “If she got you bad enough to need a first aid box then it’s not exactly okay.” She murmured, shoulder slumping. “I’ll talk to her, again.” And not just about wounding their new ally, but about everything. If Amphora was going to become a danger to others Merce needed to know so she could get out of there, away from people who could ignite the dragon's ire. It was becoming more and more clear why Amphora prefered them always moving, jumping from archaeological site to the next; because the people they dealt with were usually dead already. “I’ll take the purple robe.” She added tiredly, suddenly wanting to be alone with her thoughts and dragon.

Anthony puts the purple robe over Merce’s head, leaving enough off so she can still see, and takes the first aid box from her, chuckling at the sight he now had, while mildly ignoring the pain. “There is a bolt on the inside. I added it recently. Watch the floor, it can get slippery though. Cheap tiling I guess.”

--------------------------------------------

Merce’s perspective

Sputtering a bit as the robe was unceremoniously tossed over her head, Merce sent Anthony a playful scowl before sniffing and turning on her heel. Shutting the door behind her, she slid the bolt lock into place and put the towels and robe on the counter. The woman in the mirror who looked back looked nothing like the Merce she knew. Her catalonian heritage meant her skin was olive colored, so being pale wasn’t really a possibility, but she definitely looked drained. Usually her cloudy blue eyes were the focus of her face, but at the moment it was the dark bags under them and how they were red rimmed. Of course her hair was also a rats nest, giving her a rather homeless appearance. Laughing bitterly to herself, Merce looked away.

Typically she could care less about what she looked like; Merce never tried to impress anyone. She was plump and average looking, but loved food and refused to spend exorbitant amounts of money on beauty products when she spent so much time in the sun and sand or dirt. She was happy. Or, used to be she supposed. Now things were different and she just wanted to go back to being a lonely archaeologist whose best friend was a passive dragon. Instead, there was the new knowledge that she’d be forced to look over her shoulder for the rest of her life; a long life if she didn’t end up murdered by dragonsteel. And that her constant companion was one good rage away from a full blown meltdown that would result in death and destruction on a massive scale. Would she end up like Sree? Knowing that in some ways it was her fault so many had died? Would she be strong enough to make the ultimate sacrifice?

Biting back a sob, Merce turned on the water and waited for it to be almost too hot to stand before stripping down and stepping in. Forcing herself to hold it together long enough to wash, because she would need to feel at least mostly human to do this interview, Merce watched the water and suds swirl down the drain from where she’d ended with her forehead pressed against the cool tiles. The hot water eased some of the tension, but also her restraint. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, Merce attempted to muffle her sobs the best she could. Being alone and safe, though, meant the barrier was gone and she simply let go.

She cried for Amphora, her longest friend who she really didn’t know at all. For Sree, who’d loved with all her heart but lost everything. For Nerissa. For those hundreds of people murdered by a mother's grief. For herself, because the future was suddenly so much more scary and Merce knew she wasn’t built with strong shoulders which could carry the weight. A gentle knock on the bathroom door startled her from her morose thoughts.

“You haven’t gone down the plughole in there, have you?”

Startled, Merce gave a nasally giggle. Pulling away from the tile, she took in a deep breath and slowly pulled herself together. At least she had Anthony, she figured. A friend who understood in a way no one else she’d ever met could. Standing with her back to the water for another moment, she ignored Amphora’s questioning whine and pretended that she was back home in Barcelona, in the tiny shower whose tiled walls were lined with horrid pink roses. Her mother puttering around their kitchen heating the nasty herbal tea she’d loved so much. How Merce missed her mother! A few more tears escaped her eyes and she wiped them away before turning off the water and stepping out into the chilly bathroom. After drying, she attempted to finger comb her hair the best she could and tied the long robe tightly around her. At the last second, she took the key to the safe from her pants pocket and shoved it into a pocket in her robe.

The person in the mirror now looked a bit more like Merce, but still rough. Sneering at her reflection, she exited the bathroom and slowly approached Anthony. “Thanks for...that.” She murmured, moving to sit in the opposite chair tiredly. Noting the notepad, she motioned to it. “That have anything to do with the interview?” She asked, wincing at her cracked voice. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed by the obvious fact she’d been crying, but rather that she was probably not what he’d been expecting when he finally found a dragon who’d be willing to talk. I’m definitely not much of a dragon, am I?

--------------------------------------------

Anthony’s perspective

Anthony watched as Merce half-indignantly turned on her heel and walked into the bathroom, closing the door, the sound of the bolt coming a second later. He took the time to put the first aid kit on the coffee table, and put his backpack on the floor near the sofa.

A moment later, the sound of the shower started, and Anthony sat down at the kitchenette, sipping at his coffee, and taking bites of his food while flicking around on social media. During his look, he finds a random photo of someone with the pseudonym Blackdragon, with comments about hanging with 2 new ‘dragon friends’, which looked to be taken last night, which Anthony thought must be fake, as no Dragon could be that obvious. After a few more seconds, his phone makes a sweet, birdlike tone. It was Catherine. He took a moment to close social media, put a local radio station on loud enough to keep Merce and Amphora distracted, then flicked the text app up on his phone.

Hey Ant.

He puts his phone on mute, and replies quickly, starting a quick conversation with her, while taking occasional sips and bites of his food and drink, with rare glances at the bathroom door.

Hey Kit-Kat.

What you up to?

Chilling. Going to be busy with some work in a little while.

Cool. I am just on break. Luanne had me working in the bakery. Was that your friend I saw you letting into your complex?

Anthony quickly goes to the window when he reads that, and looks down, sweeping across and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, but still keeping his attention steely.

Yeah. We are working on a History thing together soon.

The thing you were talking about last night?

Yup.

Okay. Let me know when you are done. Miss you.

Miss you too.

Anthony smiles slightly, closes the text app, amd turns the sounds on his phone back on, then grabbing his coffee and sandwich, and sitting on the sofa. After a couple of minutes, he gets his tablet and dictaphone out of his bag, while listening quietly, hearing quiet sobs. He took the last gulp of coffee in the travel cup, got up and threw the cup away, then turning down the radio enough so he didn’t need to shout to be heard, then knocking gently on the bathroom door.

“You haven’t gone down the plughole in there, have you?” he says with a playful tone, in an attempt to lift Merce’s spirits. The sound of a wet, nasally, laugh came as a reply.

“Uh... Well... Take as long as you want in there.” he says quietly, leaving the door alone, then turning the radio back up to give Merce some privacy, while he finished off his sandwich, and threw the wrapper in the trash.

A moment later, he breathed in and remembered he still had the scratches, through the flares of pain. Stripping to the waist, while putting his jacket on its hanger, he looked over the scratches with a mirror in the kit, and his back to the bathroom, applying a little antiseptic to them all, and bandaids to the worst ones, which were akin to long papercuts. Grabbing a fresh t-shirt from his bedroom drawer, he slips it on, then turning off the radio, and sitting back down, pulling out a notepad and jotting down a few notes on plans, most of them unrelated to Merce, except for the words Road Trip, with a question mark and a ring around it. Thinking of other things however, he barely noticed Merce had said come out of the bathroom and said something, and then sat down opposite him, now wearing the bathrobe. Her question blinked him back into reality however.

“That have anything to do with the interview?”

--------------------------------------------

“N-No. Maybe one thing. I will ask you about it later.” he says, shaking his head quickly to gain additional focus, and smiling. “You look more human now. By the way, no real harm done from the last hug.”

Merce raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t ask further. “Feel more human, honestly. Or as human as possible I suppose.” Shrugging, she leaned against the chairs back. “I’m glad to hear that, though. I’ll try to keep a bit more distance from now on.”

“I know the scratching wasn’t you Merce, so don’t worry about that. You just seemed to need the hug though. I mean, you have been through a lot, in the last few hours.” sitting up slightly, he flicks the notepad to an empty page, and then looks back at Merce. “Meant to ask, before we do the interview, you find out anything about my heirloom? I just know its old, and has a lot of blood attached to it.”

“It might not have been me, but close enough to it. I need to learn to control her a bit better, if it’s possible.” The last bit was more to herself than Anthony. The mention of the knife, however, had her perking up. “Oh, yeah I did find out some stuff! It’s actually really cool. It’s a seax recreation. Which is misleading, because it’s fully functional and not just a decorative knife. It’s a Narrow Seax with a straight back blade if you want to get technical.” Pausing, she tried to remember what else she remembered. “The term seax is used specifically for a type of sword or dagger typical of the Germanic peoples of the Migration period and the Early Middle Ages. The Saxon name was derived from the weapon, actually.”

Anthony barely says a word, making affirmative noises, as he writes down what Merce had told him, until she stopped. “I... Wow. I thought it looked old, but didn’t know it was that old, at least in design. Honestly I haven’t really looked into… Anything about it.” he looks at the ground for a second and exhales a long held breath, not wanting to say why that was.

“I figured for someone who liked history you would have looked into it?” Confused, Merce tried to wonder why that was. Anthony was clearly uncomfortable by something, though, and she regretted her question instantly. “Don’t answer that, I don’t mean to pry.” Wincing, she looked down at her hands and began picking at a cuticle. “Anyway, what about this interview?” She asked, hoping to take his mind off of whatever was bothering him.

“Y-Yeah. I plan to record au
dio only, so you are okay in what you are wearing, and then I will transcribe it later.” he says, pointing at the dictaphone, momentarily distracted from his dark thoughts. “Before we start, there is something I am going to ask you, that is important for your safety. What do you want to be called for the interview. To protect your identity.”

Humming in thought, Merce realized she’d never thought to have an alias to protect herself and Amphora. The day was making her grasp just how out of her depth she truly was. If an unkind Hunter had found her rather than Anthony, Merce knew the outcome likely would have been death. For her due to her lack of knowledge, or possibly the Hunter because Amphora was bitter and easily enraged. Merce wasn’t the most creative, so she picked a name from a book she’d been reading. “I guess my alias can be Faythe.”

Anthony nods in affirmation, and picks up the dictaphone. “That works. So are you ready?”

Looking at the machine, Merce heaves a breathe then nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Here’s hoping Amphora plays nice as well.” Looking at Anthony curiously, she waits for him to start.

At that, Anthony clears his throat, and presses on the tape recorder, then placing it on the coffee table between them. “It is March 23rd 2019, approximately 11am. I am conducting this interview with a Dragon, who identifies herself as Faythe for the tape. Firstly, for the recording, I ask her to speak. If you would please?”

===============================================

tle="The Dragon Interview" target="_blank">The Dragon Interview

Almost immediately after they pulled up Reito happily lept out of the car, eager to stretch his legs. It had been a long time since he had been in a car for that long, the last time was back when he was still in the military. It had been a long ride through dense jungles riddled with IED's and guerrilla fighters. They where a small tactical team deployed to pursue and destroy the leaders of a terrorist group while another branch of the military provided a diversion. It had been an incredibly dangerous and chaotic few weeks as they drove deeper and deeper into the forest picking off enemies as they ran into them. By the time the reached the point of which no vehicle could pass they also had suffered several casualties, loosing nearly half their team.

It was a sad time, a few good friends where lost during that mission and the assassin never did learn if all those sacrifices where even worth it. He knew at least one of his team survived to report that the mines had collapsed on him and report him as MIA but there had been no way to gather information of the mission. It was a mission secret after all and they all thought he was dead, when in reality he had simply turned into a dragon and left. Quite an odd turn of events but at least he got to enjoy traveling freely, flying wherever he wished, as free as a bird.

Reito's eyes widened slightly in surprise and he instinctively put his hand to his side where his gun used to be holstered when a large white canine barreled toward them. A very slight glimpse of the man he used to be showing through but it was gone in an instant. Rizzio growled a warning deep in his skull but Reito quickly relaxed and laughed. It was a beautiful creature, its appearance surprising but it seemed nice it was wagging its tail after all. What was it though? His first thought was chihuahua but it seemed to fluffy for that however he wasn't really familiar with dog breeds, in fact as he racked his brain he could only come up with one other breed. "Wow! That is a giant papillon!"

"Uh, really?"

"Yup, a really big papillon!"

"...."

>>>><<<<<

Unfortunately Creus's attempt to grab Blitz's collar was easily dodged by the wolf whom simple back right out of the collar and raced over to greet their guests leaving the thief standing there holding a collar. Thankfully the first person who got out of the silver Lexus seemed just as happy to meet the wolf as the wolf was to meet her. Seeing this he let out a small sigh of relief at least things were off to a good start. Perhaps she simply didn't recognize Blitz as a wolf? A lot of people didn't however that thought was shot down when she said she liked his wolf. He was a bit surprised by this but honestly it was a relief. If these people liked wolves or at the very least where okay with them as he did not yet see how the others reacted to Blitz then that was one less thing to worry about.

"Thank you, he's a little excitable at the moment but he is usually quite gentle." Creus stated though it  wasn't entirely the truth. While Blitz would not hurt anyone he could be a bit obnoxious at times with his energy, furthermore there was one other problem. Like him, Blitz was a thief. The wolf loved to snatch random items from people and run around with them, it was one of the wolf's favorite games. Although Creus was usually the only victim of that behavior he was afraid  Blitz might start doing that to these people once he got comfortable with them. At the women's mention of the cabin Creus couldn't help but glance back, he had been awed by it upon first sight as well but had since gotten used to it, after all he spent three years of his life fixing it up. Upon glancing back something odd caught his sight, there was a light on in a room on the cabins upper floor.

It was a bit odd, he had been up there earlier i the morning to clean and there had been more than enough natural light coming in from the rooms windows that he didn't need the light. So why was it on? Had he or Blitz accidentally bumped it? He was pretty sure he would remember bumping into the wall though and while Blitz was good at opening doors the wolf had not figured out how to turn on light and the wolf would have to jump and hit the switch. The next thought that came to mind was maybe someone broke in while he had run to the store. As a thief himself he would have noticed the signs of a break in, unless the person who did it was incredibly skilled but if that was the case then why leave a light on when it wasn't even needed? Furthermore the cabin was far away from people so a break in seemed highly unlikely. So it was a bit strange but not really important so he ignored it for now.

After Blitz finished greeting the first person he ran over to greet the others, the first person Blitz greeted was not the guy who first got out of the car but the one with black hair and strangely red eyes. He had never seen that on a person before and was a bit taken aback however what that person shouted next left the thief absolutely stunned. 'Wow look at that giant papillon!" The thief stared blankly for a solid five seconds, papillon? Those little ankle biters that where literally the size of Blitz's head? He had heard Blitz being mistaken for a lot of things but that was not one of them. It was a harmless comparison but still quite surprising.

Blitz meanwhile rounded the car to greet the guy with long blonde hair when the wolf came to a sudden and rather abrupt halt. Creus did not immediately see what Blitz was looking at but the wolfs reaction said it all. Blitz completely froze in place, his body went rigid, his tail which had been held level with his back and wagging excitedly slowly drooped and his head lowered as he stared something down. To anyone who was not familiar with the wolf his sudden change of body language  might mistake it for aggression however this moment lasted less than a second before Blitz did an abrupt about face, ran away with his tail low and tight to his legs as he beat a rather hasty retreat. Blitz did not stop until he reached his side where the wolf promptly hid behind him and peeked out from behind his legs. He must have spotted the cat the guy had mentioned when he called to rent the place.

Creus however hardly noticed this wolf behind him something else caught his eye, something he never thought he would see again. Two out the four people whom arrived had that hair, the same type of shimmer that belonged to that person. The one who saved his life when he was a child, for a moment all those memories flooded back into his mind. The pain, the hopelessness and then that dragon who changed it all. The thief had always held out hope that he would one day encounter a dragon once more however after years of hardship and trying to survive on the street that hope had faded. The way these peoples hair shimmered in the sunlight rekindled that hope as it once again sparked to life and no small bit of excitement followed. Where these people dragons or was it just a fashion statement of normal people?

Blitz's cold nose on his hand and the wolfs soft whine quickly reminded him that there was business to be done and while he was experiencing quite the sudden emotional whirlwind the thief quickly stamped those feelings down. While he did not recover from those feelings he hid them as he greeted his guest. "Hello, I'm Creus and this is Blitz, the big guy who's afraid of cats." he said trying to sound cheerful as he indicated the wolf who was hiding behind him.  Considering he had stared at them all for a moment in shock he tried to salvage the situation as he spotted a large gorgeous feline appear from next to the car. He recognized the cats breed immediately as he had encountered one in the past.

The first time he encountered such a cat it belonged to someone who owned an apartment near where he lived in an abandoned building for a short time. The cats owner had let it outside to wander the city streets often and he ended up befriending the gentle feline. When he first saw it he immediately recognized that it was no ordinary cat and after a little research at a local library he had discovered the name of its breed. Unfortunately he didn't get to enjoy its company for long as the school he had attended at the time had quickly grown suspicious of him. Even though he regularly stole clean close and tried his best to wash up in bathrooms he couldn't hide his skinny underfed frame. He was constantly questioned and when the principle of the school decided to get child services involved he had no choice but to flee, he did not want to get sent back to that family he had run away from only months prior.

"That is a beautiful Maine Coon cat you have there, are you Vincent?"  The thief asked the blonde man whom the cat was near. From a quick observation it was pretty obvious that Vincent had to either be the blonde or the one with the white hair. The guy who called Blitz a papillon was obviously not him, his voice was nothing like the person he heard on the phone and the person he spoke to was clearly a guy so that ruled out the women in the Lexus. "I have the key to the cabin here." He said pulling his spare key from his pocket though he didn't know whom to offer it too as he walked over to them, trying  hard to ignore the excitement of the possibility of these people or some of these people being a dragon. He could only hope that if they did notice something that they would write of his earlier reaction as shock to his pet being called a papillon and excitement over renting the place.

At the same time however he was aware that if these people were dragons his reaction could make them suspicious. After all he had spent an entire year trapped with a family of hunters who had pulled some strings and arranged for him to be fostered with them after he kept talking about a dragon in the hospital.  Even as a kid he had picked up fairly quickly on the hostility the people who fostered him had toward dragons and had shut his mouth refusing to say anything more to them on the subject once he was in their care. That had served to infuriate them of course and their brutality and the cunning tricks they had played on him to try and force him to speak made one thing obvious to him as a child. They were probably the reason why no one else heard of or saw dragon, why everyone thought they were just a myth. He might have been a poorly educated orphan but he was smart, if was how he survived up until the day he fell off that cliff. He knew dangerous people when he saw them. "I only have one spare at the moment but if you wish I can run to town and make a second it will take a day or two however."

While his person approached the people with the cat Blitz stood back wearily, he wanted to be with his person, to protect him from the clawed invader but he was scared. The wolf whined in frustration and eventually made a low keening howl when his person ignored him. How dare he abandon him with monsters around? Finally his person paused and looked back in his direction. “Come on Blitz, they are just cats” Creus chuckled as Blitz upon hearing his voice and the word ‘come’ stepped forward, cried again and then retreated several steps before whimpering in frustration. “Uh, as you can see he is a bit petrified of cats so you don’t have to worry about him starting any trouble with them..” Creus trailed off a bit awkwardly, a wolf, too most people a big scary animal and yet hear he was cowering in fear at the presence of common house cats.

Granted one was a rather large and beautiful Maine Coon whose size probably didn’t help the situation but Blitz probably outweighed the cat by a good eighty to ninety pounds. Furthermore if this cat was anything like the one he met in the past then he imagined it was probably quite gentle and the other two which he had just spotted where kittens. Adorable, fluffy little creatures whom couldn’t possibly be a threat to a wolf, though Blitz who settled into pacing and altering between whining and over dramatic howls obviously didn’t agree with that. Perhaps if the cats and their owners where willing to cooperate this would be a good chance to help Blitz overcome his fear

“I did pick up a large scratching post at the pet store I stopped at earlier for your cats.” He added his words directed at Vincent and Tucker as he indicated to the three level post that still sat in the box on the porch. “I will put it together after dinner, which I will finish making after I wash up. For now though I can give you all a quick tour of the cabin.” He offered to all of them though his attention stayed focused on the one he assumed was Vincent.  His old work shirt was stretched a bit tightly across his lean but well muscled frame and he had spent the last few hours mowing the lawn and chopping wood, he smelled strongly of fresh lawn clippings and wood at the moment.

The thief's long blonde hair was a bit messy and stuck out randomly from the black string he used to tie it back and keep it out of his face while he worked, his bangs had long since escaped and the tie and hung freely. Grass clippings stuck to his pants and shoes, as did a few wood fragments his appearance might be befitting of someone working outside but probably not that of a cook. He did not want to frighten his guests away from his cooking before they had a chance to try it. He imagined he appeared to be quite the mess at the moment.