Spirits of the Earth

@Paladienne

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This was her last chance.

That was what Commander Searys had said. Five partners she'd been assigned in her three years of training, and not one of them had lasted more than two months.

Honestly, she didn't know why; she didn't actively dislike any of them, they just...never seemed to fit. And when they didn't fit, they didn't do their work properly, and then she got irritated, both with her riders and herself and then-- well, then things just sort of spiraled.

Despite the fact that she'd been a part of the Adelan military since she was fifteen, she still had yet to "graduate" from official training and earn any sort of rank. To do that, a dragon needed a partner.

So this was her last shot. If she didn't make this partnership work, she'd be sent back home with her tail between her legs. Probably literally.

Sighing, Azalea shuffled her wings and arched her neck slightly, trying to look as professional as possible as she waited in the small training yard behind the officers' quarters. Her commander had said she was calling in someone who'd just gotten back from an...intense mission, whatever that meant. Commander Searys believed this Daxten fellow was Azalea's best chance, for whatever reason.

It wasn't her place to question her superiors.

So she waited, doing her best not to fidget as she stared at the door, wondering exactly who would emerge.

Daxten wasn't sure what to expect when he walked toward the door that would let him into the training yard. Supposedly, someone was waiting there for him. It had been barely a month since he'd returned from... from that... and he still didn't feel like he was quite normal. Well, he wouldn't be normal anymore, now would he? Not after what he'd experienced. What he'd seen. What he'd done. None of them were. And they might never be. He still woke up in a cold sweat at night sometimes, voices ringing in his ears, the feel of ropes around his arms and wrists and ankles, and he lashed out at nothing. He would be walking in Ketra and he would see a familiar face, a too familiar face, leering at him from the shadows, and he would turn around and run home, lock himself in his quarters, and refuse to come out, even when it was his turn for guard duty. Because he was young and it had been his first mission that had gone horribly awry, some leniency had been given to him, but it was quickly running out.

And so his own commander had given him to Commander Searys, and the woman had sat him down and explained to him that if he wanted to remain in the military, then he would either have to put aside the trouble that was still plaguing him, suck it up, and move on - even if they both knew he couldn't - or he could do something else. And the something else, the commander had said, might just help him push through his own problems. She had explained to him that it was, ultimately, his choice whether or not to do this, and she had the perfect partner for him if he chose to give it a try.

He didn't see how involving himself with another person could help him push through his own problems, but he didn't want to go home to his parents, and be looked at like he was broken and defective. Daxten got that already from his fellow soldiers. Even though they understood - for not one of them didn't have their own trauma and therefore couldn't relate - they had somehow managed to make it through and turn into people to be proud of. Daxten, though, hadn't even been able to do that much. Wasn't sure if he ever would be able to.

But this was his best chance to stay, and failing here would mean that he would be discharged and left to his own devices. He understood that; how could you trust a soldier to fight and to protect lord and land when he couldn't even deal with his own baggage? He was a liability and a danger not just to himself, but others. He could get over it, or he could leave. Daxten didn't want to leave. He didn't want to fail. He'd already failed once, and he didn't want to fail again.

So he opened the door to the training yard and stepped through, pausing in the threshold as he saw who he assumed was his "partner".

A dragon.

He stared right into the dragon's eyes, his own wide with surprise and shock, and he stood frozen, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Ah.

It seemed no one had told her new partner just what exactly he was getting into, if his stunned expression was anything to go by. Clearing her throat, Azalea straightened herself up a bit and tried to look as presentable as she could manage. First impressions were important, after all.

"So." Commander Searys stepped out behind the young man and folded her arms, eyes flicking between the two young soldiers. "Cadet Denarym, this is Daxten Solario. Daxten, this is Azalea." The commander paused, letting them get a bit of a measure of each other, then continued, "Az here is still technically a probationary member of our dragon corps, as she has yet to complete the full year of training with a single partner."

If dragons could blush, she would have, ducking her eyes and shuffling her wings slightly.

"So that's where you come in." The commander clapped Daxten on the shoulder. "Alright. I'll give you two some time to get acquainted, then you're due in the main training yard at noon." She turned to go, paused, then lowered her voice to murmur something to Daxten that Azalea couldn't quite catch. Something about his last mission?

Whatever it was, when she'd finished speaking Commander Searys gave both of them a nod and strolled back into the officers' quarters.

Azalea shuffled her wings again, feeling fidgety. "So, um...hi?"

Daxten couldn't help but stare at the dragon standing across from him. He'd seen quite a bit of dragons in Ketra, but he'd never seen one up close and personal, let alone one that would be his partner. He'd held no aspirations to become a dragon rider, and yet, here he was, by fate or fortune, he didn't know. He stiffened when Commander Searys joined them, and he glanced quickly between the commander and Azalea, as if he couldn't quite believe the commander was serious about this.

But she was, and as she explained Azalea's situation, Daxten couldn't help but see a certain similarity between his situation and hers. If they both failed, they would both be discharged and sent packing, whether they wanted to be sent packing or not. Turning his attention back to Azalea and Azalea alone, he saw her avert her gaze and shuffle her wings, and knew she was embarrassed. He could commiserate, after a fashion. What he felt about his first - and last - mission was far too complicated to pare down into separate feelings. It was just a jumble of knotted depression, anger, hatred, self-loathing, sadness, fear, and a number of others he couldn't name, unable to be picked apart neatly.

When Commander Searys clapped him on the shoulder, Daxten jumped slightly, and recoiled from her touch. Somehow he managed to stop himself from lashing out at her, as he'd done on numerous occasions before when someone tried to touch him, and instead only clenched his fists and pressed them into his thighs, leaning away from her.

But he couldn't escape her, not when she bent and whispered into his ear, "Your last mission damaged you, but not beyond repair. You have to want this, Daxten. If you fail here... your last mission will be all that's remembered about you. Do you really want that?"

Then the commander was gone, and Daxten was alone with Azalea.

He tensed a little when she spoke, but it was just a simple greeting rather than some sort of tirade. He slowly relaxed, and took a few hesitant steps toward Azalea. He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do now, but the commander had made it clear that she expected to see them in the training yard at noon.

"Hi," Daxten replied, standing before Azalea with his hands at his sides. "So... uh... I guess... we're going to be partners."

Seeing how tense he was, Azalea lowered her head and clasped her wings closer to her body, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. She knew she wasn't all that big for one of her kind-- even a juvenile-- but she supposed for someone unused to dragons, as Daxten seemed to be, she was still rather intimidating.

"I hope the commander didn't say anything too bad about me," she joked weakly, kneading the dirt beneath her front paws. A nervous habit. "I, um...well. Ahem."

She cast around desperately for something to say and came up blank. Gods, why was this so awkward? It had been bad enough meeting her first partner, but her sixth?

She was almost afraid to ask what the commander had told him about her. She doubted it was complimentary.

Daxten shifted his weight as he watched Azalea scrunch up on herself to make herself smaller, and found his eyes drawn to her claws as she began to score the earth beneath them. Those nails seemed awfully sharp. They had to be, didn't they? Dragons needed sharp talons, teeth, and whatever else they needed to be able to fight and hunt and protect and...

Daxten's mind flashed unbidden to that, and his stomach twisted. He hoped that he wouldn't be sick in front of Azalea. He swallowed hard, and fought to put his mind back into the present.

"Huh?" Daxten asked, feeling a little dumb that he'd missed her words during his involuntary trip down nightmare lane. "Oh, no. She didn't say anything bad about you. She... really didn't say much at all. Except that... this is our last chance. Yours and mine."

He lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked away from her and then back, dropping his hand and curling it into a fist to press against his thigh. Daxten wasn't sure how to proceed. Azalea didn't seem like she was forthcoming about information about herself, and Daxten didn't feel like talking. But one of them needed to step up, and if it wasn't going to be her, it had to be him.

"May I... uh..." Daxten uncurled his fist and lifted his hand toward Azaela's snout, leaving quite a bit of space between her scales and his skin. "May I touch you? I... only touched a dragon once and... it wasn't exactly... under the best of circumstances."

Azalea's eyes widened, and she almost jerked her head back on instinct, unused to people touching her. She forced herself to hold still. Last chance, Az. You've got to actually try with this one.

She let out a soft breath, icy and crisp, like a late autumn wind, and carefully pressed her nose forward into his hand. She blinked at him, holding herself there. Let him pull away. He asked, so he can decide when this ends.

Okay...okay. "I'm sorry," she murmured after a moment. "That the last time you touched a dragon was...bad." She huffed a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "They're just scales, though. Nothing all that special."

Despite her words, dragons were special. The magic inherent in their bodies was nearly palpable through touch, and she particularly was odd because rather than a subtle heat, her scales were incredibly cool to the touch.

Daxten sucked in a breath as he felt her scales beneath his hand. Unlike the other dragon he'd touched - whether fortunate or unfortunate, he had yet to decide - Azalea was cool to the touch, not quite like ice but more like a crisp winter's day, where the air was still cold but the natural warmth of the sun made the cold tolerable, if not comfortable. He let the air in his lungs out slowly and rubbed his thumb along her nose, feeling the edges and contours of her scales, their smoothness and armor-like quality. After a while, he drew back and let his arm drop to his side.

"Nothing special..." Daxten looked away and seemed to be thinking hard, or at least trying to choose his next words with care. Finally, he looked back at her and lifted his shoulders slightly. "And the last time I touched a dragon wasn't... bad. Not really. Just... I don't really want a repeat of the experiences that led up to it..."

He didn't want any more nightmares on top of the nightmares he already had. He didn't want to close his eyes at night and see the blood and hear the screams and... Well. It was already too late for most of that, wasn't it? Daxten rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain what to say now. Did he continue the story or did he change the subject?

He chose to change the subject.

"I never thought I'd be pushed to be a dragon rider." he said, offering the words tentatively. "I was just going to be a regular soldier, patrolling and protecting people. I... never aspired for anything more. What about you? Why do you want to be part of this so badly?"

"I--"

Her instinct was to clam up. But following her instincts was what had gotten her into her current position. So, she took a breath, paused, considered her words, and said carefully, "My...mother, I suppose."

She smiled a bit thinking of the stories her father would tell about her. "She was a wild dragon, but she defended this country with every breath in her body. There's a village up in the Thunderblacks, just passed the foothills-- that's where I'm from-- and she sort of...claimed it. It was part of her territory, so she decided it was her duty to protect the people who lived there."

Azalea rolled her shoulders and rustled her wings in a draconic shrug. "I...I never really got to meet her. But she sounded amazing, and ever since I was a hatchling I wanted to be just like her..."

She trailed off, feeling the skin beneath her scales heat slightly. If a blush could have shown through her scales, she was sure she'd be bright crimson. Clearing her throat, she asked quickly, "How do you feel about it, then? I mean, if you weren't planning on becoming a dragonrider are you-- I don't know, disappointed?" There was an edge of wariness in her tone, an automatic bracing against rejection.

Daxten lifted his shoulders in response to her question. Was he disappointed? He couldn't answer that honestly, because he didn't know. When he'd first enlisted, he'd been content to be a regular soldier, patrolling the countryside and maybe fighting in a war to protect his home and his liege and his family. What had happened to him on his very first mission had been... traumatizing, to put it mildly. Daxten doubted he could accurately describe the feelings that had made him up during that time, doubted he could describe the feelings that had been coursing through his mind and his body enough that Azalea would understand.

"I..." He paused, uncertain how to continue. "I'm not disappointed. It's... I'm still a soldier. I haven't given up on that. Being a dragon rider... it's just a different kind of soldiering, right? And... I'm not at the mercy of anyone else but my commanding officers, those who outrank me, and you." He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. "All my life I was taught to protect others, and when I had the opportunity, I couldn't do it. I... it wasn't like I froze or anything, I just... couldn't."

Daxten looked away from her, a bitter smile appearing on his face. "I'm surprised you're not disappointed in me."

Azalea blinked. "Ser Solario..."

She frowned, hesitating, then offered almost carefully, "Daxten? If I can call you that? I...well, the commander didn't...really tell me anything. About what-- what happened to you. She just said things...went wrong, on your first mission."

The dragon cleared her throat and shuffled her feet awkwardly. "I'm not saying you have to tell me, now or-- or ever, really. But I... I just wanted you to know that I don't have any expectations here, any judgments." She tried for a smile, remembered that on a dragon that expression wasn't exactly reassuring, and quickly lowered her head to almost rest on the ground.

"So no, I'm not disappointed in you. Honestly I just...I just want this to work this time."

"Ah," Daxten rubbed his neck, giving her a lopsided smile. "I'd rather you call me 'Daxten' than 'Ser'. 'Dax' works, too."

At the mention of his mission, his expression fell and a look of sadness entered his eyes, so profound that it was clear he felt the sorrow all the way into the deepest parts of his soul. It was all he could do then to not just sit on the ground and bury his head in his arms and pretend he was hiding from the world. Images flashed in his mind's eye, unbidden and unwanted, and his mood shifted from nervous awe to complete and utter self-loathing. He looked away from Azalea, his arms wrapping around himself as tight as he could wrap them.

"I... I can't talk about that." Daxten said softly after a long silence. "Not yet. Maybe... maybe one day, I could but... I..." His stomach twisted and he was lucky that he wasn't sick in front of her. That would just be perfect. Getting sick in front of his partner before they even had a chance to become partners, yeah, that was just wonderful. He swallowed hard and turned back to face her. "I don't know what exactly it is that I want, but... I know I want to be a soldier. A good soldier. And... if you're willing to try alongside me, then..."

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand, and just as hesitantly, he placed it upon Azalea's snout. His palm quickly became cold, but at the same time, felt warm, as if the two were trading the sensations of hot and cold between each other.

Daxten swallowed hard and said, "Then, we can make this work. You and me. We just... have to give it our best shot. I..." He paused, shifting to look Azalea in the eyes. "I won't fail you, Azalea. I promise."

I won't fail anyone anymore.

Azalea rumbled low in her chest, and a cautious sort of light flickered behind her eyes. She had been wary to reach out and offer comfort when he turned away, but now that he was the one reaching out to touch her, she felt such reservations fall away.

Eyes glinting, she pressed her muzzle more firmly into his hand, then tipped her head up slightly so her eyes were on level with his. Slowly, carefully, she angled her jaw to bring her brow against his, that same chill rising off her in subtle waves.

"I believe you," she replied softly. "And-- and I think we can make this work. I really do. I think I can...be a partner that you could be proud of."

Daxten smiled at her, feeling her confidence as if it were his own. Yes, if they worked together, if they strove together, then they could make their partnership work. Partnership was work, after all. So long as they supported each other, then they couldn't fail. That was how it had been before, and how it would have been, had not tragedy befallen him and his friends. Here he had a second chance. And even though he didn't know Azalea as he had his friends, he could see in her eyes the determination she felt. He wanted to help her obtain her dream. Even if they didn't remain together forever as partners, perhaps he could at least leave her in a position that allowed her to feel proud about herself and her accomplishments rather than feeling like a failure.

He leaned his body more firmly against her snout, his forehead pressing hard into her scales. He felt that, if he wanted to, he could wrap his arms around her snout and hold on tight. He doubted she would appreciate that, so he instead just stroked the scales his hand was resting against, rubbing the hard surface.

"So... should we go see what's waiting for us in the training yard?" he asked her. "Or do you think we should talk more?"

He wouldn't move if she wasn't ready to. If she wanted to get to know him more, then he would sit and answer her questions as best he could. But he would follow her lead now, seeing as Azalea knew more than he.

Azalea rumbled low in her chest and bumped her nose forward against his chest, then drew her head back.

"We should probably go," she decided, glancing skyward to judge the time. "I'm not sure what exactly is in store, but I've learned to be punctual." She tilted her head with a dragonish grin and blinked at him slowly, almost like a cat.

Then she hesitated. Clearing her throat, she hunkered down a little further and extended on foreleg. "Do you...wanna get on?"

Daxten shivered at her offer. Did he want to get on? Did he want to climb onto her back and settle on her shoulders, as if he belonged there? He was going to have to get used to it, anyway, wasn't he? Why not start early? After all, Daxten figured Azalea wouldn't have made the offer if she wasn't sure herself. So he stepped toward her, and he reached out as he did so, running his fingers along her jaw and her neck. He had to get used to touching her, and she had to get used to him touching her. However, he moved slow, in case she decided she didn't like the touch or changed her mind about him climbing onto her back.

When she didn't, Daxten carefully began to climb up her foreleg, moving slowly. He didn't want to hurt Azalea - honestly, he doubted his fingers and feet could hurt her - as he climbed, so he was extra attentive about her scales. He knew nothing about dragons, which was something that would soon be rectified, he was sure.

At last he reached her shoulders and climbed onto her back, where he settled himself in the hollow between her shoulders. He didn't know how to sit, so he just curled his legs as if he would when riding a horse, and searched for a suitable place to put his hands. He leaned low, trying to find his center of balance before she moved and disrupted it. When he felt he was ready, he straightened his spine, and he tightened his legs.

"I think... I think I'm good." Daxten said, leaning just a bit to try and look into Azalea's eyes. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

A laugh rumbled through her chest-- Daxten could probably feel the slight tremor in her sides. "No, you're not hurting me," she assured him. Craning her neck around to look back at him, she tilted her head and said with a slight, playful glint to her eyes, "You'd have to try quite a bit harder to manage that."

She shuffled her wings a bit, adjusting to the feeling of his legs in front of the joints. "You can hold onto me if you need to," she told him, slightly stilted and awkward.

Hold onto her how?

Daxten wasn't sure. Did he slide his fingers under her scales? Would that hurt her if he did? Did he just squeeze with his legs as he would a horse? Did he lean forward and wrap his arms around her as far as he could and pray that her movements wouldn't knock him off? Sighing, Daxten shifted to place his hands on her neck, fighting the urge to lock his elbows as he did his best to grip tight to Azalea.

"Just please tell me you aren't planning to fly with me on your back just yet." Daxten said, a pleading note to his voice. "I'm not sure I can handle that right now."

Azalea laughed again, louder this time, the sound like ice thawing on a lake and rocks clashing together. "No, I won't fly," she assured him, twisting her neck around to look at him again.

She glanced down at the way his hands were braced against her shoulders and nodded with a little snort. "That's fine. You're not going to hurt me, y'know. I'm a tough girl," she tried for a little joke, tilting her head a bit to the side. Sobering, she added, "You can hold tighter with your legs-- it's not all that different from a horse, really. Just try not to yank on any of my scales, that hurts."

It took some getting used to for Daxten to figure out how exactly to hold onto her, but he managed to do it. He released her with his hands, gripping just with his knees as if he were riding a horse bareback, and settled his hands on his thighs to rub them on his pants. His palms were sweaty and he was definitely nervous. But he'd made it this far, so, he might as well go the rest of the way.

"Don't yank the scales, check." Daxten said, trying to laugh and instead only giving a nervous giggle. "I guess it's the equivalent of yanking out someone's hair or nails. Tears at the skin."

His stomach made an odd little flip flop at that statement, and unbidden came the memories of... Daxten closed his eyes tight and breathed deeply through his nose until he thought he was going to hyperventilate. He pushed those memories away, opened his eyes, and focused on Azalea. The past didn't matter. Only the present. Only the future.

Focus on her. Focus on Azalea. She's the reason you're here. You're the reason she's here. Focus on her. Focus on her and you and nothing else.

The tension drained from his form then, but he knew the memories hadn't really gone away. They were still there, lurking, waiting for him to drop his guard so they could overwhelm him and drive him into madness. But they weren't solid. They weren't tangible. Azalea was solid. She was tangible.

He reached out and placed his palm against her nose, rubbing the scales there with his thumb. Then he settled again, and offered her an unsure but ready smile.

"Let's go. Let's go show them what we can do. Together."

She felt him tense even before she turned her head to look at him. It was impossible not to, really, when someone was sitting on her back. Eyes a little wider than normal, she watched in silence as he closed his eyes and seemed to be focusing on his breathing.

Unsure what she could-- or should-- do, Azalea just looked at him for several long moments. Then, cautiously, she let out a chilly breath and craned her neck back to press her muzzle into his shoulder, as she'd seen other dragons do with their partners. It seemed to be some sort of gesture of comfort.

"Right." She pulled her head back and nodded at him firmly. "Together."

Taking a quick, sharp breath of her own, she swung her head back around and began making her way around the commander's quarters toward the main yard, trying to keep her gait as smooth as possible. 

Daxten concentrated on breathing and learning how to move his body with Azalea's movements. It really was like riding a horse when she walked. He only had to shift his hips in time with the movement of her shoulders and he was able to keep his seat. He was certain when they finally flew it would be much different, but then, he doubted that he would be riding bareback while they were in the air. As much as he had a deathwish sometimes, Daxten didn't want to become a red smear on the earth because he felt he could hold onto her while she did some crazy maneuver in the sky.

When they reached the main yard, he stiffened as the gazes of every person and dragon there turned to the newcomers. He felt as if he were being sized up and his measure taken. Some gazes spoke of seeing potential in him and Azalea; others spoke of utter disgust and failure. Some were neutral, uncertain or uncaring. Daxten fought not to stare back at those who seemed to disregard him and Azalea, but he felt a strange ember ignite in his chest in response to those who had decided he and she had already failed and weren't worth their time. Well, he was going to prove them wrong. She was going to prove them wrong.

They both were going to prove them wrong.

Daxten shifted his seat on Azalea's back and ran his hand down her neck, feeling the smooth scales against his skin. "What first, Azalea?" he asked at last, knowing he didn't have to shout for her to hear him. "You know this better than I do."

Well, he might have a point there, but just barely. Azalea had certainly been through her fair share of initial awkwardness with new partners, but she was by no means "clued in" on what exactly they would be facing in terms of their first training session. That tended to vary from partner to partner, in her experience.

But she had the distinct feeling that saying that wasn't really going to be helpful for either of them, so she cleared her throat and arched her neck, trying to look more confidant than she felt.

"It's just about midday, which means Lieutenant Ambrose is the one on duty," she murmured, and nodded toward the east end of the training yard where a cluster of three other young dragons and their partners seemed to be gather. "There? Probably?"

Daxten looked toward where Azalea had indicated and tensed upon her back once he saw the other six trainees. It took effort for him to relax, but even then, he felt nervous, as if everyone's eyes were on him and expecting him to fail. Or, worse, had already written him off as a failure. But he squared his shoulders and sat straighter upon Azalea's back, and did his best to school his face into a stoic yet determined mask.

"Yeah, there, probably."

'More than likely' more so than 'probably', Daxten decided. He had no idea what he was doing, really, and Azalea had already been through this a few times before. She might be as much of a novice as he was. But he didn't say that, nor did he mention those were his feelings. He trusted Azalea, and he trusted her judgement over his own.

"If they're learning, like we are," he said softly, "then I guess that's where we ought to be, too. We're starting from the ground up, right? So..." His shoulders lifted and fell.

He didn't see any instructor there, though, so he wondered if maybe the instructor hadn't arrived yet, or if they were to be left to their own devices. He hoped it wasn't the latter. If it was, then he'd be an incredible embarrassment, not just to himself but to Azalea as well.

"Right."

Interacting with more recruits. New recruits, likely, who'd been here half as long as she had and were already more advanced in their training. Wonderful.

With a muffled sigh, the dragoness did her best to move forward toward the group without "creeping" or otherwise embarrassing herself.

The trainees had been chatting, but as the new pair moved toward them they grew quiet, looking around curiously. Azalea did her best not to appear intimidated-- they were just curious, after all, no harm in that. She tried to keep her head high, resisting the urge to shrink away from their eyes.

Daxten was used to being stared at. He'd been stared at during his time as a trainee, stared at during his time as an actual soldier, and stared at as a... He shivered and forced his mind away from those thoughts. He reached to run his hand down Azalea's neck, hoping it would calm her somewhat. It didn't matter what others thought of them anyway. It only mattered what they thought of themselves and each other.

"Confidence," Daxten muttered under his breath. "Confidence. Believe in yourself. Believe you can be on the same level as they and that they are your equals, not your superiors or inferiors. Show respect where it's due, and expect the same."

He patted her scales, drawing in another breath. "Besides, if they look down on you, Azalea, I'll punch them in the face, how does that sound?"

Quite despite herself, Azalea chuckled at that, breath ghosting out of her in a puff of frost.

The other trainees' attention snapped to them at that, not even pretending to be subtle about it anymore. Azalea quickly ducked her head, cursing herself mentally.

"So. You're new recruits?" one of the trainees, a young woman with short-cropped, dusty blonde hair suddenly spoke up, giving them a friendly smile from the back of her green and black dragon.

Though it was clear she was only trying to be welcoming, the words stung. New recruit. As though they both hadn't been through at least twice the training as the rest of them. The dragoness didn't say anything though, keeping her head lowered. It wasn't uncommon for dragons to not be particularly chatty, after all.

Daxten tensed under the gazes of the other recruits, but he was used to this. He was used to being stared at, being judged, being thought of as incompetent and less because of his inexperience. When it came to actually riding and training with a dragon, he was a complete novice. But when it came to fighting, to being confronted with a battle, Daxten could handle himself. Mostly.

"Yeah, that's us," he called back, giving the young woman a two-fingered salute. He looked up at Azalea. "The new recruits. As fresh as fresh can be. What about you? How long have you been here?"

Realizing that Azalea was feeling dejected, he reached forward and patted her neck, running his fingers over her scales. "Don't worry about them," he whispered, for Azalea's ears only. "You know more than they do. The trick is to show off without seeming like you're showing off. You can do this."

Returning his attention to the recruits, Daxten offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm Daxten, and this is Azalea. Nice to meet you."

Azalea had to stop herself from starting under Daxten's touch, unused to it. None of her previous partners her been quite so physically connected in their work with her-- perhaps because they felt it might be disrespectful, or perhaps because they simply didn't care, she never knew. It was surprising.

It was nice.

"I'm Ellia," the girl who'd spoken replied first. She patted her dragon partner's neck. "This is Blackthorne."

"Vardic," another trainee added, still looking Azalea and Daxten over calculatingly. "And this here is Liora." He nodded down to his dragon, the only other female of the group, but even still clearly a larger specimen than Azalea. The teal dragoness dipped her head to them politely, but did not speak.

To Azalea's moderate surprise, of the last pair it was the dragon who actually spoke up. "I am called Fareth," he rumbled, blinking bright silver eyes at them laconically. "My rider is Ivan."

Ivan nodded to them, silent.

"You guys are a bit late," Ellia noted with a friendly but puzzled smile. "I didn't even know we had another dragon and rider pair training with us until this morning."

Azalea kept her peace, but she glanced back over her shoulder at Dax, giving a soft rumble in her throat that was low enough it was almost impossible to hear, but he would doubtless feel the vibration through her body. She was willing to follow his lead on this, however he decided to handle the situation.

Daxten shrugged. "Yeah, well, we kind of just met this morning, too. Something about late bloomers. Nothing better than learning on the job, I guess, so here we are. I think we get along pretty well for only having known each other for a handful of hours, huh?" He gave Azalea a grin and a wink. It was as if his attitude had taken a turn for the better, but really, it was just a smoke-screen. He was good at pretending. He'd gotten good at pretending. Besides that, he might as well be friendly to the others. These were to be his new comrades. It wouldn't do to alienate them before he even really got a chance to know them. He turned his attention back to Ellia. "Besides, better late than never, right?"

He studied each of the other trainees and their dragons, getting a feel for who they were just based on the way they reacted to him and Azalea and the way they reacted to each other. They were all new, all green, all lacking experience. That was where he and Azalea would excel; she had the experience with this training from all her times before and he had the experience of combat, of following orders, of surviving. Beyond that, they would all be on the same page, on the same level, and some would be better than others. But they all would learn, and they would learn at their own pace.
"It's nice to meet you," Daxten said at last. "All of you. I guess we'll be working together from now on."

"Yeah, seems so."

Apparently Ellia was the most talkative of the group, as none of the others really seemed inclined to comment beyond that. Azalea shifted her stance a bit, trying not to knead at the ground as her nerves started to catch up with her.

She couldn't deny that Daxten's sudden shift in attitude surprised her a little, maybe even put her on edge for a moment. His voice was even enough, but she could feel the tension he still carried in his body, and she could recognize the front for what it was. But what could she do, call him out on it? Not only did that seem rather rude, but she wasn't even sure that addressing it would be helpful.

Later. She'd think about it later.

Silence lulled among the recruits, stretching just into the territory of "awkward". Dragons and riders shifted, looking around, but before any of them could speak, a voice suddenly cracked out over the yard:

"Look sharp, cadets!"

The three other pairs snapped to attention, dragons arching their necks and pulling their wings in tight to their sides, riders clasping their hands behind their backs as they straightened their shoulders. Azalea quickly mimicked the dragons' pose and drew her front legs together, forcing her talons not to scour into the earth.

Lieutenant Ambrose strode out from the captains' quarters with one eyebrow raised dangerously, looking them over. Oh boy.

Daxten watched as Lieutenant Ambrose strode toward them. He'd never met the Lieutenant before, and so he didn't know what to expect. Judging by the faces of the other cadets and their dragons, the Lieutenant was not someone to mess with. Daxten assumed the same pose as the other humans, feeling Azalea move to do the same as the dragons had. The position felt awkward for Daxten, who was used to standing at attention in a different way, but he knew this was something he would have to get used to.

Really, though, he knew nothing would be that much different. The core training that he'd gone through before could easily be translated over to this one. The only difference would be learning to do it with Azalea, and she with him. Of course, she had more experience, considering this wasn't her first go-around, and she could easily coach him on what he needed to know. And, if anything, the two of them could practice together outside of the training ground. Daxten wasn't about to let her fail, and he wasn't about to let himself fail.

A faint part of him realized that he was going to have to eventually explain to Azalea why his face and voice said one thing and his body said another. But those memories were still too painful to bring up, and he didn't feel like he was strong enough yet to confront those horrors without devolving into some inhuman mess of... whatever it was he became. He dug his fingers into his clenched hands and focused on the pain of his nails creating crescents in his flesh and stared straight ahead.

Azalea could sense his tension, and it seemed...different from previous partners she'd had. Not just the general nervousness of a cadet meeting their superior officer, this was...something else. Something she'd sensed in him before, but had been unable to pinpoint.

And it didn't seem like she'd really have the opportunity to think about it, at least not anytime soon. Ambrose approached the trainees and strode in between them all, looking them over with a well-practiced eyes. He lingered on Azalea and Daxten for a moment, and the dragoness tried not to wilt under his gaze. She'd worked under Ambrose before, and she knew he didn't think all that highly of her-- or rather her inability to keep a partner.

"At ease."

Dragons and riders relaxed slightly, allowing the tension in their spines to curve forward a bit. The Lieutenant looked them over again. "We'll start with basic drills. In the air in ten, cadets."

Azalea huffed rearing her neck back in surprise. She wasn't wearing a saddle. Did he really expect Daxten to fly her bareback?

Daxten stared straight ahead even as his body tensed in ways he was unfamiliar with. The words spoken by Ambrose rang in his ears with a life all their own, and he felt utterly terrified and powerless. Ironically, his thoughts were identical to Azalea's: was he supposed to fly without a saddle? He'd only met her today, and they hadn't had time to go through the motions of getting a saddle that fit both of them, or anything else for that matter. They were woefully underprepared compared to the other cadets.

But Daxten knew better than to question his commanding officer. An order was an order, and it was meant to be followed, not questioned. But he wanted to ask Lieutenant Ambrose why he was starting them with flying drills when Daxten would easily fall to his death, seeing as he had no way of keeping himself on Azalea's back. Yet, he knew the answer. He should have prepared himself instead of doing whatever it was he'd been doing. And Azalea probably would be blamed as well, seeing as she wasn't prepared either. Daxten bit his tongue to keep from saying anything and risking getting both him and Azalea in trouble.

Besides, there was a time limit for them to get prepared, if they could do it in time.

He looked at Azalea. "We have ten minutes to figure something out. We need to find some rope. We don't have time to hunt for a saddle and get it on you, so rope is going to be the next best thing. I know your scales will eventually fray the rope, but for today, it should serve us well."

Daxten shifted, looking around their immediate area for something that might work. He didn't care about looking pretty. He didn't care about looking professional in this moment. He'd already learned that war was a messy affair and no one had the luxury of looking prime and pristine in the moment battle was joined. He'd already learned that war wasn't fought to win, although it was one of the ideas that drove it, but that war was fought to survive. And if Daxten was anything, it was a survivor.

"We won't fail, Azalea, not this time." Daxten said, his voice rough with emotion he was struggling to hold back. "I won't let you fail, I promised you, remember?"

The dragoness let out a slow, shuddering sigh. She tilted her head around to look at him, then nodded slowly. "Right. Okay."

Rope. Rope was a good idea.

She shifted, glancing around the courtyard. "Okay, um... Maybe by the supply shed?" She jerked her head to indicate the direction of the shed.

Internally her mind raced, trying to figure out the safest way she could go about this. Perhaps a makeshift harness for both her and Daxten? If they only tied the rope around his waist and her neck-- or one or the other-- they were liable to hurt themselves if he fell-- possibly cause a crash landing.

Daxten leaped from Azalea's back then, landing easily and lightly on his feet, as if he'd jumped from dragon-back dozens of times before. He raced to the shed, barely breathing hard as he skidded to a stop in front of it and threw open the doors. He immediately began hunting for rope, shifting through other things as fast as he dared lest he hurt himself. In his head, he was cursing, because it would be his luck that the one thing he needed wasn't here.

"Ha!" Daxten barked out a laugh as he grabbed hold of a length of thick rope, and he pulled the coiled mass out of the jumble of stuff it was buried under. He hoped it would be long enough to form a safe enough harness for him and not choke Azalea to death.

He raced back to her, aware of all the eyes on him. He didn't let them bother him. He'd made Azalea a promise and he wasn't going to fail her. When he reached her, he threw the length of rope over her neck, allowing the two ends to dangle. Under her right wing first, he drew the rope and threw it up over her back. Then he dodged around her front, under her left wing, and did the same. Then he climbed back up onto her back, careful not to fall over the other side of her and to the ground. He grabbed both pieces of the rope and pulled them until there wasn't any slack, then crossed them one over the other as he wrapped them around his waist, until the left end of the rope and the right end of the rope had switched places. Then he quickly tied each end to the rope in front of him, forming a harness that would allow him to stay in place on her back and not get caught around her neck.

"There." Daxten said, panting. He looked at her, grinning. "Can you flap your wings? Does it hurt? Is it too tight? Do you think you can fly like this?"

Azalea found herself chuckling a bit at how pleased with himself her new partner looked. She rolled her shoulders, spreading her wings wide and giving a slow, experimental flap. She nodded, then crouched down so he could climb up onto her back again.

"Works for me. You shoulder tie it around your waist and over your shoulder, yeah? I mean, I'll do my best not to let you fall, but if you do I think that'll...make it hurt less." She winced a bit and gave him a sheepish sort of look.

But they didn't have much time to worry about, because then Ambrose was bellowing out, "Five more minutes, cadets, in the air!"

"I don't think I'll have much time worrying if it's going to hurt or not," Daxten replied dryly, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners as he gave her a sardonic smile. "I think I'd be too busy screaming and then," he clapped his hands together, "splat."

But Daxten did as Azalea suggested and tied the rope around his waist, securing himself into the harness that he'd created. He knew he would be at a disadvantage as far as maneuvers and such, but so long as they were able to complete the tasks set before them without embarrassing themselves or anyone else, then Daxten considered that a win. All he wanted was to prove to Ambrose that he and Azalea could do the things they set out to do, and to prove to everyone who would be watching that he wasn't as broken as he knew he was, that he could persevere even when the odds were against him, and that he could be what he was meant to be.

Whatever that was, because Daxten still wasn't sure of that himself. He knew what he had dreamed of being, what he'd intended to become, but he didn't know exactly what he was to become now. But he was determined to keep his promise to Azalea, no matter how difficult life became for him.

"Well," Daxten said, after he'd tested the ropes holding him to Azalea's back, "looks like we're set." He reached forward and placed his hand against he neck. "Shall we get into the air?"

The dragoness nodded sharply, amethyst eyes sparkling with a sudden burst of determination. "Ready," she muttered, watching as their fellow cadets took to the air, two already circling above them. "Hold on tight."

She crouched down, bunching her wings in close to her side, then sprang upward and snapped them open, scooping the air back and beneath her body to propel herself forward and up.

Takeoff from a standstill was not usually the most graceful of prospects, as dragons are hardly small creatures and getting all that bulk off the ground in one burst could be more than a little ungainly. However, where Azalea lagged behind most dragons in terms of sheer size and muscle, she more than made up for it in the agility and grace that her more whip-like frame afforded her. there was hardly a jerk as she got airborne, and she leveled out easily, spiraling up to match the height of the other cadets.

"Alright, start your drills. Three, two, one, begin!"

The dragons all banked at subtle direction from their riders. Luckily, Azalea knew the patterns of the drills and could fly them without cues, though she whispered back to Daxten as they flew: "A gentle tap just under my wing joint is the cue for me to bank in that direction."

She continued to murmur the proper cues back to her rider as they wove through the drills. While with dragons capable of speech it may seem redundant to have non-verbal communication, she'd been told time and again that dragons and riders should always be able to speak to each other with touch alone. Not only would it strengthen their bond, but if they were ever in a situation where sound was dangerous it might save their lives.

Of course, Daxten had never been given the basic training of a prospective dragonrider, so she did her best to relay the cues to him as she performed the set maneuvers through the air.

Daxten leaned low over Azalea's neck as she launched from a dead standstill toward the sky. He gripped tightly to both her and his rope harness, feeling his stomach drop down to his feet as gravity suddenly fought to keep him grounded, even as he defied it, courtesy of the dragon he was riding. He was surprised his internal organs didn't just come erupting out of his body, honestly. The dragon he'd ridden when they'd been rescued had been a mite bit bigger than Azalea, so he hadn't felt the pressure as much. Perhaps it depended upon the dragon? Or perhaps it depended upon the dragon's size. He didn't know and he didn't feel comfortable asking because he didn't want to upset Azalea.

The gusts from her wings buffeted him, but he found that he didn't lean from side to side with each flap of her wings. It was like the simultaneous motion created a pocket of space between her shoulders, allowing him to remain mostly still and only get eddies of the air she displaced with each stroke of her wings. He could feel the muscles of her wing-shoulders working, and it was the most fascinating experience Daxten could say he'd ever had. He focused on her left wing and then her right, watching how her scales flexed with each movement.

As soon as they were leveled off, Daxten sat upright and felt the wind hit him full in the face. He closed his eyes tight and leaned low again, finally able to open his eyes and breathe. He'd never had this problem before, but then, he also had never flown like this before, either. It was quite a bit to get used to, especially so quickly.

When the order came to begin the drills, Daxten paid focused attention to what Azalea called back to him. He breathed out and repeated what she said, reaching out to tap under her left wing, saying, "A tap under the wing joint, and you go that direction."

He continued to repeat her orders and the gestures that went with them, hoping he was performing them right. He didn't want to mess up and give her the wrong order, but he had always been a quick learner, and the more he did something the more ingrained it became in his mind. He hoped that Azalea was a patient sort - so far, she'd seemed to be - because he hadn't had the same training everyone else had had. Even her.

Daxten raised his eyes from Azalea's back to their fellow cadets, watching how synchronous they were with their dragons. That kind of seamlessness had come from months of training, if not years. But he wasn't the only one making mistakes in the drills. Sometimes the other dragons would turn left when their rider signaled to go right, or sometimes the rider would signal left when they meant right, and two pairs would very nearly collide with each other.

At the very least, Daxten thought, he hadn't yet run Azalea into anyone else during their maneuvers.

All in all, the training session didn't go half bad. There were a few close calls between the cadets, dragons either misreading or not receiving cues and nearly bumping into each other, but they all managed to correct their flight patterns in time to avoid mishap.

Of course, when they landed, all Ambrose focused on was their flaws. Azalea dropped her head and took the bombardment of criticism with the ease of long practice; she was used to this. She didn't bother to glance at the other trainees, not particularly caring how they might react.

For the first time though, she realized that perhaps she should be offering her partner a little compassion in a moment like this. She'd only ever had partners who'd trained to be dragonriders, never a footsoldier. She had no idea how Dexten might be feeling, or how he might react to Ambrose.

Shifting her stance slightly, she curled her neck back and surreptitiously nudged her rider's leg. She didn't say anything, not sure if she should, but blinked her amethyst eyes up at him in her friendliest manner.

Daxten listened to the criticisms directed at him with stoic patience born of years of being an older brother and months of training to be a footsoldier. No matter what happened, no matter what was said, you couldn't let your emotions show on your face. Not in front of a superior officer. No matter how angry you were, no matter how offended you were, no matter how bad they made you feel, you held it in until you were dismissed. Daxten knew that better than anyone. That was how he'd survived being...

He tensed, his entire body becoming as taut as a drawn bow.

The memories slithered back into the depths of his mind, but their poison was still firmly inside him, waiting for the moment he dropped his guard. Daxten knew he would likely have nightmares tonight, but he had no one to blame but himself. It was he who couldn't get past what had happened. He who couldn't move on. He didn't know why. He didn't know how.

He jumped when something brushed against his leg. A curse escaped him in a soft rush of breath before he could stop it. He almost kicked at the something in retaliation, but then he realized that the something was Azalea. She was watching him, her amethyst eyes filled with kindness. She was trying to comfort him, he realized. And he realized that she could likely feel the tenseness in his body, but she couldn't understand why he was so tense. She would assume it was because he was being yelled at, being criticized for not knowing anything, for not having the proper training as a dragon rider and what did he think he was doing there, and for now, Daxten decided he was content with letting her believe that. Maybe one day he would tell her.

Maybe.

He reached out then and placed his palm on her neck, letting the warmth of his skin melt into her chilly scales. He said nothing, hoping the gesture was enough to assure Azalea that he was just fine. That he would be okay. Somehow.

It was then that Daxten realized something, something that perhaps he'd realized on a fundamental level before, and only now had decided to acknowledge. Having Azalea with him, being focused on her and her success, gave him something to focus on. She gave him something to do. To be. She was his chance to undo the sins of his past and, perhaps, his chance to find forgiveness. Not forgiveness from those who'd been with him, but forgiveness from himself, for being too weak, too young, too innocent to understand the working of the world around him and for being unable to do anything about it.

Then, not caring about anyone else's opinions besides the dragoness upon whose back he sat, Daxten leaned forward until he was practically flat against her neck and wrapped his arms as far around as he could. He closed his eyes tight and pressed his face against her scales, and gave Azalea the hardest, tightest hug he could manage.

Azalea froze, the sudden touch as unexpected as it was...well, strangely nice. She was unsure how to react; they weren't really drawing attention, at least not yet, and it wasn't like it was unexpected for riders and dragons to become close-- but she and Daxten had only known each other a few hours! Not to mention it wasn't usually standard protocol for such displays of affection to happen during a training routine.

But after a few moments of hesitation, she curved her neck back around and laid her cheek against Daxten's side for a brief moment, the closest she could come to returning the hug in their current position. A strange spark of-- of something like protectiveness, maybe real affection, bubbled up in her chest.

Maybe this could really work.

The dragoness untwisted her neck as Ambrose jumped into his next round of orders. After that, the day continued in a fairly predictable pattern: the cadets were put through their paces, called back to the ground to be told everything they'd done wrong, every so often take a break for water, rinse and repeat.

By the time the sun was dipping toward the horizon, Azalea was well and truly exhausted. The heat had even managed to bleach some of the chill from her scales, and her breath didn't fog the air with every pant. Thankfully, they were dismissed, and the cluster of pairs split away to go about their own business for the remainder of the evening.

Dragging in a weary breath, Azalea lay down carefully near the edge of the courtyard and huffed a large sigh. She craned her neck back to look at her rider, cocking her head to the side. "So. How you holding up?"

Daxten undid the rope tying him to her back, and slid from Azalea's shoulders. He was exhausted and sore in places that he didn't even know he could be sore in. He tugged at the rope that had served as her harness, untying knots and pulling it free. He could already see frayed spots where her scales had nearly rubbed through the first layer of rope. He dropped the rope on the ground by her side, then settled on the ground against her foreleg, tilting his head back to look at her.

"I'm doing okay," he answered her, "I think."

He closed his eyes and rested his head back against her scales. "I've never done anything like this before. I trained as a soldier, not a dragon rider. In that, I'm used to the hard work and the constant movement. And the yelling. I'm definitely used to the yelling." Daxten chuckled softly. "But... I guess I'm doing okay. It's gonna take a bit to get used to, and this is only day one, after all."

He opened his eyes then to meet her gaze, reaching up to stroke the scales beneath her chin. "What about you? What do you think? I could tell Ambrose was going after you specifically on some drills, as if you didn't know what you were doing."

Azalea rumbled quietly and settled herself down beside him, shifting so he was leaned almost against her whithers rather than her foreleg. "He always does that," she replied, rolling her wings back in a draconic shrug. "Seems to think I'll forget my basics between partners." She snorted and rolled her eyes. Clearly there was no love lost between her and the lieutenant.

"We need a saddle," she sighed abruptly after a moment, letting her head flop down to rest on her crossed forepaws. "They're not like hand-me-downs, y'know, gotta be tailored for a specific rider and dragon. We can probably get by with the spares in training for a week or so, but beyond that..."

She huffed. Tilting her head so she could fix Daxten with one eye, she offered, "I think there's a blacksmith that's supposed to be good with rush orders in the city. We've got half a day's leave in two days, we could take a look?"

This was...nice. Talking. Planning. Making the assumption that their partnership would last long enough to be worth invested time and money into a custom saddle. She just hoped she didn't seem too eager.

"Well, just between you and me," Daxten said, lowering his voice so she was the only one who could hear, "I think he's a jerk. He's a little worse than the drill instructor I had when I was in training to be a soldier. He makes me feel like he's looking down his nose at me, you know?"

A saddle. He'd thought about it briefly, when he'd gone to the supply shed to get the rope to serve as a harness for them. Daxten grimaced slightly, wondering how much a custom-made saddle would cost. "I hope they're not too expensive. Or maybe I'll have to figure out how to barter for one." He turned his head to look at Azalea, seeing his reflection in her eye. "I don't have much money. It's not like you get paid for training, you know?"

He rested his head against her scales, enjoying the cool sensation against his skin. "But... yeah, we can go take a look. We're going to need proper gear if we're gonna do this, right? If we're gonna be a team." Daxten cracked a smile. "Besides, I'd like to see the look on Ambrose's face when we show up for training with a proper saddle on your back. I dunno about you, Azalea, but I'd like to make him eat his words."

"Oh, we get a little money to outfit ourselves!" Azalea laughed, giving herself a little shake and fluttering her wings before settling them to her sides again. "We've just gotta check in with the quartermaster before we leave."

A soft chuckle rumbled through her chest and she twisted her head around to look at him as he rested against her side. "After going through the same routine half a dozen times and him still acting like I don't know what I'm doing? Yeah, I wouldn't mind if he shut up a little," she growled, though the glint to her amethyst eyes lessened the threat of the noise somewhat.

"Oh, really? We do?" Daxten seemed surprised that they would pay their trainees, but then this was a different division of the military. The footsoldiers had been supplied with equipment during training, and had only received their first pay after they had graduated to real soldiers. He supposed that dragon riders were different in that regard, then, for obvious reasons. Still, he wasn't going to argue. "That's kind of neat."

He closed his eyes and relaxed some, sighing softly. "Then we'll just have to do our best, right? Show him what we're made of. Show him how capable we are." Daxten opened his eyes and tilted his head back, offering her a smile. "Should we get cleaned up then? I still have to learn how to properly take care of you, I guess, if that's something you want. And I guess we should get something to eat."

As if to accentuate his comment, his stomach rumbled. Daxten's cheeks heated and he looked away, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Well, sure." Azalea shrugged in response to his apparent surprise that they would be given a stipend to outfit themselves. "It's not like with foot soldiers, really-- you can't just keep reusing training gear. Dragonrider saddles have to be tailored to specific dragons and their partners, if you want them to work best."

When his stomach rumbled, she chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling low in her chest, and lowered her head to nudge the center of his chest almost playfully. "C'mon, let's get you something to eat. We can stop by the quartermaster's after."

She didn't comment about him learning to care for her. That still felt...odd. She knew most dragons in the military allowed their human partners to supplement the communal grooming and such that some of her kind practiced, but she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it. It just seemed...a little strange, she supposed.

Daxten sensed some kind of uncomfortableness coming from Azalea when he mentioned taking care of her. Did the riders not take care of their dragons? Did they not care for their partners? He wasn't sure, and he wasn't going to press. She wasn't used to it, he felt, and he couldn't blame her, considering her past. He didn't want to be like her past partners, though. He wanted to be different.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet and stretched. His muscles protested the movement, feeling tight and stiff, but after a minute they relaxed enough to become a dull ache rather than a pointed throb.

"Well, I guess you'd better show me around here, then. Find the mess hall, or whatever it is. We'll eat, we'll go by the quartermaster's, and then with the rest of our day, we'll go explore the town and find the blacksmith and see if we can't work out a deal with him."

Daxten patted Azalea's snout, rubbing his thumb on the scales between her nostrils.

Azalea shorted quietly and resisted the almost instinctive urge to yank her head back. She would have to get used to this kind of contact, after all.

"Um, mess is just that way." She raised her head and nodded back over the barracks. "There's not really much room for a dragon to fit though, we normally just hunt for our meals in the woods outside the city." She shuffled a front paw a little awkwardly and cleared her throat, glancing away.

"I'm sure one of the other trainees would be happy to show you around the mess, and I can just...go hunt. Or, um..." She cleared her throat again, exhaling a small cloud of ice crystals. "If-- if you wanted, you could...come with me? Might be easier to stop by the quartermaster's on our way out that way, though..."

Daxten blinked at her words, confused. She wanted him to go hunting with her? He'd assumed that the mess hall would have been built to accommodate both the trainees and their dragons, but he realized now that would've been stupid, considering dragons were too big and ate too much, and if what Azalea was suggesting was true, then dragons could take care of themselves with minimal interference and aid from the humans they chose to have ride them. He looked away from her as his cheeks flushed, ashamed that he'd assumed so much. Wasn't that what had gotten him into trouble in the first place? Assuming that they would be safe? That their mission was an easy one and that nothing would happen to them?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

When he opened them, he looked up at Azalea and smiled. "Yeah, I could go with you, if you want. I haven't been hunting in a long time. I... I can go get my bow from my quarters, if you don't mind waiting a little longer. And then we can go stop by the quartermaster's before we go. Is that all right?"

If she wasn't willing to wait, Daxten would just go try to find food on his own, and then he'd await her return. But... he found himself actually enjoying the idea of going with her to hunt. There was no better way for them to get to know each other, after all, than to spend time with one another and do things together. Besides that, if they made it through the training and were ordained in full, then they would be sent on missions together where they would have to hunt for their own food, among other things. It was a perfect opportunity to see how well they could actually work together, even though they'd only been together for a matter of hours.

A breath of relief whooshed from her lungs and she narrowed her eyes at him gratefully, tilting her head and fluttering her wings in what she hoped was understood as an expression of happiness.

"Yeah, I don't mind waiting," she replied quickly. Folding her wings a little tighter to her sides, almost prim, she settled back on her haunches and nodded her head toward the barracks. "You go on, I'll just wait here."

She was quiet a moment longer, then rather abruptly snaked her head out to give his shoulder a quick, companionable nudge with her snout. "...Thanks."

Daxten smiled as she prodded his shoulder with her snout, and he gave her a light pat in return. Then he was running off toward his quarters, feeling lighter than he'd felt in a long time. He didn't know if it was because he'd found in Azalea a friend that didn't judge him - granted, she didn't know his past yet, and if Daxten had his way, she wouldn't find out until he was ready to tell her - or if because it was easy to let go of the things that plagued him with constant nightmares around her. There was just something about her, and Daxten didn't know if it was because she was a dragon and not a human. Either way, Daxten pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and ignored them. He could deal with them later.

Maybe.

Daxten dashed into his quarters and slid to a stop beside his bed, grabbing his quiver and his bow, ensuring that he had extra bowstrings stored in his quiver in case the one he used to string his bow broke at any time. He strung it quickly before he exited his quarters, running back to rejoin Azalea. He skipped to a stop in front of her, his chest heaving for breath as he panted from the exertion. He gave her a bright smile and saluted her with the bow as he slung the quiver over his shoulder, securing it in place.

"Ready when you are, Azalea," Daxten said with a light tone.

Azalea didn't have much to do besides curl up and wait when Daxten ran off to gather his things, though she found herself narrowing her eyes and tilting her head slightly in the dragon equivalent of an almost fond smile.

Maybe this can really work.

Sure, Dax was inexperienced inasmuch as being a dragon rider was concerned, but maybe that was why this felt different-- good different. He didn't have the same expectations of her that she'd sensed from her previous partners. He just took what she said at face value and left it at that.

She winced a bit as a small pang of guilt clenched in her stomach, but she quickly shook it away. It's not like I'm really lying or anything, she told herself firmly. I just...don't tell them everything. Not like it's hurting anyone.

She was jerked from her thoughts by Daxten's call and lifted her head, rising gracefully to her feet.

"Alright, let's get moving then." She stretched out one foreleg and lowered her front half slightly so he could more easily climb up onto her back.

Daxten hesitated for a heartbeat, but moved to climb onto Azalea's back as quickly as he could. He moved gently for all his speed, careful not to pull on her scales or push them in awkward positions with his feet. When he was settled, he took a moment to situate his equipment so it wouldn't be poking him in the side or banging him in the head or bouncing against Azalea when she moved.

"I'm ready when you are," he said, offering her a smile. He trusted her to take them to the proper place, to see the quartermaster, and then to where she wanted to hunt. He'd never actually been out of the grounds since his return, and as much as he was eager, he was also extremely nervous. But he trusted Azalea. He had to.

As they headed toward the quartermaster's, Daxten asked, "Do you have anywhere particular you like to hunt?"

"There's a strip of the Draconi that's less than an hour's flight from here, normally has some good game," Azalea told him lightly in response. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and added, "If you're too hungry to wait though there's plenty of game just outside the city. Not as fun to hunt, but much faster."

The quartermaster's office was on the other side of the training grounds, but by skirting close to the wall Azalea could get them there without really drawing any attention. They did draw a few looks as they passed the dining hall, most of the trainee riders choosing to relax just outside and enjoy their meals near their dragon partners, but she didn't pay them much attention.

When they reached their destination, she bent her forelegs to lower her front half toward the ground and cleared her throat raspily, trying to grab the quartermaster's attention from outside.

"Hey, wherever you wanna go, that's fine by me. I just don't want you deciding I look tasty or anything." Daxten replied with the hint of a smile, inviting her to join in on his little joke. His smile faltered a moment later, uncertain if he really had just insulted her by suggesting that she might find him a tasty snack. Still, he didn't quite know how to recover from that, so he just looked down at his lap, as if he found the scales of her neck extremely interesting. Then he said, "I'm fine with anything. I have no preferences. I trust you to make a good choice."

Daxten fell quiet again after that. He said nothing as Azalea carried him toward the quartermaster's office. He didn't even glance up to meet the gazes of his fellow trainees as they stared at him. Getting their approval wasn't why he was here. Trying to make a good impression with them wasn't why he was with Azalea now. Still, he wasn't sure how she exactly felt about him, especially after he'd basically just accused her of being a man-eater.

He shifted his weight as she bent forward, his eyes finally lifting as she made that strange sound in her throat. When there was movement inside the building, Daxten turned his gaze onto the sudden form of the quartermaster. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and he was uncertain as to what to say when the quartermaster's eyes focused on him and lingered. Daxten stiffened under that gaze, feeling as though he were being measured and found lacking somehow.

Then the quartermaster's eyes went back to Azalea, and he chuckled, "This new one of yours is mute, eh, Azalea? What is it you need?"

Azalea had to admit she was a little taken aback by the joke, though she was more befuddled by the way Daxten suddenly sank into silence. Assuming he just didn't feel like talking, she kept quiet herself until they reached the quartermaster.

She offered the older man a dip of her head and a slight narrowing of her eyes, a dragon's polite smile. "We need funds for a new saddle," she told him evenly. She shifted her weight a bit between her hips, not quite sure why Daxten still didn't speak.

"Funds for a new saddle, eh?" The quartermaster smirked, his eyes flicking from Azalea to Daxten, who remained silent upon her back. "And what say you, boy? You gonna let Azalea here talk for you?"

Daxten stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared back at the quartermaster. "No."

"No? Then why's she asking for something for you, eh? Speak up, boy. What is it you need?"

Daxten swallowed hard, feeling a spike of anger. Yet, he also felt shame. He should have been the one to ask, considering the saddle was more for him than Azalea. She would be perfectly fine without a saddle; he was the one who needed a better way to keep himself on her back when she went through her maneuvers. He ducked his head and closed his eyes tight. "I..." he swallowed hard and lifted his head, opening his eyes to look at the quartermaster. "We need funds for a new saddle."

"What was that?" the quartermaster said, cupping his hand by his ear. "What did you say? I'm old, boy. Speak up!"

Daxten's face flushed bright crimson. Was the quartermaster making fun of him? Why? Because of how he'd reacted to the man? He looked away from the quartermaster and tightened his fingers into a fist. He took a deep breath and faced the quartermaster again, his voice almost snappish as he said, "We need funds for a new saddle!"

The quartermaster chuckled. "So you do have a voice." He turned his attention back to Azalea. "You've got a good one this time."

He returned to his office and pulled a sack of coins from his desk, along with a voucher. He tucked the voucher into the sack of coins, then returned to the pair outside. Reaching up, he deposited the bag into Daxten's hand. Before Daxten could pull away, the quartermaster grabbed his wrist, holding it in an iron grip. Daxten stiffened, staring wide-eyed at the quartermaster.

"That will get you what you need," the quartermaster said, still holding tight to Daxten. "You take care of her, you hear? You're partners now." He released Daxten then and turned to Azalea, smiling. "And you take care of him."

Daxten pulled his arm back and held the pouch close to his chest, staring at the quartermaster as the man returned inside to his office for the last time. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and looked toward Azalea. "He's a weird one, isn't he?"

Azalea knew the quartermaster in passing, mostly, but they'd always been on friendly enough terms. Which is why she was surprised at herself when the older man's ribbing of Daxten made her hackles quite literally rise, lips pulled back in a silent snarl as she felt ice gathering in her chest.

Whoa. She forced herself to settle, glancing down and realizing that her talons had gouged rather considerable rivets in the earth below her feet. Her wings shuffled against her back, accidentally brushing up against Daxten's sides. She huffed when she realized what she was doing and tried to make herself go entirely still.

She merely nodded when the older man returned with the money and Daxten caught the pouch of coins. She was still a little taken aback by her own reaction, and seemed rather contemplative.

"Hm? Oh. Yeah." She huffed again and rolled her shoulders when Daxten's words registered. "Yeah, I suppose he is." She gave her head a quick little shake and glanced back over her shoulder at her rider. "Well. I suppose we should get moving." They should make this a relatively quick hunting trip if they wanted to get back in time to actually find a decent saddle before the next round of training started up.

Daxten looked back over his shoulder as Azalea began to move away from the quartermaster's building, so certain the man was watching them leave. He didn't see him, of course, and honestly hadn't expected to, but that didn't shake the feeling that the quartermaster's eyes were on him and Azalea.

Turning back around, Daxten tucked the pouch into his tunic and made sure it was secure. He didn't want to lose it, especially because he didn't think that he'd be able to get another allotment of coin and voucher. Then he adjusted himself on Azalea's back, ensuring that she would have a smooth take off so they could go hunting.

"I'm ready when you are, Azalea," Daxten said, tightening his hold in the rope that bound him to her back.

If she'd have been able to, she might have smiled a bit as she felt him tense on her back, the makeshift harness tightening just slightly around her chest when he gripped the ropes.

Without bothering to turn her head to look at him, she noted almost blithely, "I'm not going to let you fall, Daxten."

She glanced around, making sure the area in front of the quartermaster's offices was clear before spreading her wings, loping forward three steps, and launching herself into the air.

She circled higher and higher, watching the barracks and the city shrink below them until the greenery of the surrounding fields and forests came into view. She banked southeast, toward a copse that blended into her favored hunting grounds close to thr city.

"I trust you." Daxten replied softly, knowing she'd hear him whether he shouted it or whispered it.

As her body moved, Daxten leaned into the motions as he'd learned to do. Riding a running dragon wasn't all that different from riding a galloping horse; his body remembered the forward and back motions that he'd learned to do to spare the horse's back the constant pounding of his weight as the forces at work on his body worked against him. Granted, a dragon's back was far sturdier than a horse's, and Azalea probably didn't notice one bit. When he felt her muscles bunch and coil, Daxten leaned low as he'd been taught a few hours ago, centering his mass and trying to lessen the weight Azalea would need to compensate for as she pushed off from the ground and took to the air.

The take off was always exhilarating, Daxten had learned. Suddenly his body became incredibly heavy, as if the world was trying to pull him back down to it. But instead of being crushed by the unbearable heaviness, he instead became airborne, secure upon Azalea's back because of the harness. The wind from her wings buffeted him, but other than the fierce wind that tugged at his hair, Daxten felt nothing. And then...

Then they were in the sky.

Daxten shifted to sit back up as much as he could without causing too much drag, and looked around him, staring at the dwindling city behind him. He gasped softly, stunned. He'd caught glimpses during training, but he hadn't been allowed to enjoy the view from on high because he'd been constantly forced to pay attention to orders and maneuvers and to learn how to communicate with Azalea when she couldn't hear his voice over the rushing wind. But now he could. The city below them was almost like a child's toy, complete with tiny moving carriages and people going about their business, all ignoring the dragoness wheeling above their heads.

When she banked southeast, he leaned into the motion, his eyes tearing away from the city to the open world beyond its walls.

That land was even more breathtaking. Colors abounded before his eyes - greens, blues, golds, reds, yellows, cool purple shadows and soft pastel whites and creams - and he could see further than he ever had been able to before. He saw tilled fields and wild places, vast forests and deep rivers. He clutched the rope tighter and leaned lower across Azalea's back, staring at the flashing ground beneath them. When he raised his head, he realized she was heading for a copse nearby as the dragon flies, and he decided that this place was her hunting grounds.

Daxten smiled. He could see why. There was sufficient camouflage for Azalea to hide, to stalk her prey. He only hoped his presence wouldn't change her luck.

"Alright, hold on." Azalea dipped into a shallow dive, bringing them down through the canopy of the trees to come to a soft landing on loamy earth. She flexed her claws into the dirt as they touched down, enjoying the feeling of digging rivets into the soft earth for a moment or two before she raised her head and let her jaws crack open as she tasted the wind.

Shuffling her wings so they lay as flat as she could manage without jostling Daxten from his seat, she craned her neck back around to look at him with one eye. "There's a herd of deer about a quarter mile northeast into the trees." She seemed to want to say more, but hesitated, a long, slow blink shielding her eye for a moment as she considered.

"I...don't usually hunt with a partner. I'm used to stealth-diving from high up, but I'm not sure if you're experienced enough to hold on..." She cleared her throat and scuffed her claws against the dirt and moss beneath her feet. "I--I could try hunting from the ground, but..." She huffed a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "I don't exactly blend in to this environment. It's hard for me to find camouflage down here."

And she certainly had a point. While if she had been living in the snowy peaks like most ice dragons her pure white scales wouldn't have been much of an impediment, in the heavily forested areas of Adela she stood out starkly against the browns and greens.

Daxten frowned slightly. She was right; Azalea was far too conspicuous for an environment like this. White didn't exactly mesh with green and brown and make for an effective hunter. Were she somewhere else, ambushing from below wouldn't be a problem. Here, her survival depended upon a surprise attack, where prey wasn't entirely used to being swiped from the air. After a moment of thinking, Daxten slung his bow and quiver across his back and untied the ropes that held him to Azalea's back. He tied the ropes together then, making sure that they wouldn't hinder her or get in her way, and then he slid to the ground. He crouched as he landed, letting his knees buckle so he could absorb the force of impact up through his thighs. Then he rose and looked up at her.

"Go and hunt the way you want to." He reached up and patted her scaly shoulder, smiling a little. "I can hunt from below. Maybe I can scare something out for you."

He pulled his bow from his shoulder then and tested the string, drawing an arrow from his quiver and nocking it. He held the arrow loosely with just his finger to balance the shaft, the fingers of his other hand curled around his string, ready to add tension at a moment's notice. Daxten gave her a small smile.

"Just make sure you don't grab me by accident, okay?" He told her, his tone joking. Turning, Daxten strode off into the forest, his jaw set. Even if he didn't catch anything, this trip wasn't for him. It was for her.

Maybe I can flush something out for you.

Azalea narrowed her eyes in thought as a small rumble started in her throat. Maybe...

"Dax, hang on." She padded quickly after him and automatically snaked her head out to tap his shoulder with her muzzle. She froze, realizing what she'd done, and hesitated a moment, wondering if she may have perhaps stepped over some sort of personal line between them. But no, no a simple touch was alright, wasn't it?

Clearing her throat, the dragoness pulled her head back and muttered, "Have you ever done hawking? Y'know, hunting with a falcon or a hawk or something?" She didn't wait for an answer, continuing in a rush, "Well, if I understand the concept correctly, it's really a partnership-- it might even be a chance to practice some whistle cues?"

Daxten started at the sudden touch of her snout on his shoulder and spun around to face her, his eyes wide. After a moment, he relaxed, and blew out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. It was startling to be touched by anyone unexpectedly, never mind a dragon. But he realized that she'd probably done that out of instinct, considering touching him with her snout was preferable to grabbing him with a talon that could easily rip him to shreds.

Folding his arms over his chest, he shook his head. "My family was poor. We didn't have much, let alone something that was reserved for nobles. So when we hunted, it was the old fashioned way - tracking the animal, setting traps, hoping and praying we'd get something."

He looked up at her, uncertainty spreading across his face. "Are there specific whistles we're supposed to do? We just learned the touches for when we're in the air and you can't hear me over the sound of the wind. And I've never heard or seen a dragon rider use whistle signals before."

Azalea shuffled her talons against the earth and ducked her head a bit-- she looked almost bashful, or at least as bashful as a creature of her size and stature could be.

"Well, it's...not usually taught to trainees so soon. But since I've been...here a while, I sort of--sort of picked some of it up. And!" she hurried to add, her tail skittering back and forth over the earth behind her as a bit of excitement entered her stance, "And, I thought, well... When people use hawks to hunt, they intentionally flush out prey for the bird to strike. It doesn't seem impossible to do that on a larger scale..."

Daxten blinked, his head tilting somewhat to the side as he considered her. It was true that she had been here for some time - at least, that was what he'd figured, when he'd been told they were each other's last chance - and he would be a fool to not rely upon her superior knowledge. So he nodded, and stepped closer to her.

"Okay. So, teach me these whistles. We might as well see if I can do them before we decide we're going to try this. Better to know that we can do this before we start hunting something and you lose your chance at dinner."

"Ahhh..."

Oh dear. She really hadn't thought this through.

While Azalea had no issue remembering the whistles she'd heard dragon and rider partners use in more advanced drills, she rather abruptly realized that...dragons can't whistle.

"Um... Daxten?" She sighed, closed her eyes, then dropped her head and said in a rush, "I'm really sorry but I need you to turn around while I teach you, okay? Please just trust me?"

Oh, that was-- that was so stupid. What was she thinking? A bit of extra practice wasn't worth weirding out her newest partner, her literal last chance, not to mention risking her secret barely four hours after meeting the kid!

Daxten blinked at her request. Turn around? Why? How hard could it be to explain a whistle to him? All she would've had to do was tell him whether he used his fingers or simply formed a circle with his mouth and blew air through his pursed lips. She could describe the sounds to him, and he could try to get them as close to what she described them being. He was about to tell her this, when he saw the expression on her scaly face and realized she had squeezed her eyes shut and wasn't looking at him.

Understanding dawned on him then. She was nervous about teaching him this lesson that neither of them were supposed to know yet. She didn't believe in her teaching ability if he was watching her. Daxten scratched his cheek and looked away from her before sighing deeply.

"Okay," he said at last. "I'm turning around."

He performed the action even as he said it, presenting her his back. He wasn't going to berate her for being embarrassed and nervous; not if she was going to teach him something that would put him ahead of everyone else in their class. And he supposed with him turning around, he could have plausible deniability that Azalea was the one who'd actually taught him the whistles, and she would have the same in the fact that she hadn't actually been teaching him.

"Ready when you are."

Azalea gave a sharp huff of relief when he didn't argue with her and mumbled a quiet, "Thanks."

She waited until she was sure his back was to her, then took a few shuffling steps back and closed her eyes, curling her body into a tight ball as she allowed her form to collapse inward.

It had been a long time since she'd done this. Years. And dear gods she was out of practice, which meant it hurt. The young dragoness had to clench her jaw against an instinctive cry of pain as her whole body burned and broke, bones melting, shrinking, morphing, and rearranging themselves, wings cracking and drawing back into her spine, claws retracting, teeth flattening out as they shifted in her skull.

It was a painful experience, but blessedly brief. It only took a few seconds before she was left in her human form, crouched on hands and knees and shaking as the aftershocks of the change rippled through her. Snow white hair spilled forward over her shoulders, curtaining her face, and she thought vaguely, It's grown out. I'll have to cut it soon.

Azalea glanced up to Daxten's back, relieved that he hadn't looked around. Well, of course not. It had only been about four seconds, and he'd said he wouldn't.

"Okay..." Her eyes widened as she heard her voice. It was softer, not quite as echoing as it was as a dragon, though still distinctly hers. It was just strange to hear it after so long. Best do this quickly. Didn't want her new partner to get bored and try to glance back at her.

Shuffling back into the foliage a bit to get some cover, Azalea settled back on her haunches and proceeded briskly, "This is a recall." She whistled two short, sharp notes. "Bank left." A longer whistle. "Bank right." Another long whistle, though this one swooped up at the end.

She ran through roughly half a dozen more simple command whistles, quickly as she could. "Alright. You've got that? Think we can try it?"

Daxten listened as she gave the commands, frowning at the difference in her voice. It wasn't as booming or as powerful as before, but he chalked it up to the fact that she was trying not to bowl him over with the sharp sounds of the whistles. Dragon lips, he decided, weren't made for making human noises. Still, he appreciated her taking the effort to teach him, and so he practiced for a moment after each one, pursing his lips to get the sound just right as he blew air through his lips. It was awkward, mostly because he wasn't used to whistling, but he somehow managed to get an approximation of the sounds. It would take much more practice for him to get them just right.

He started to turn, then froze, remembering that he'd promised he wouldn't turn around, no matter what happened. Instead he put his hands on his hips, and sighed. "Okay, let me get this right."

Two short, sharp notes. "Recall." A longer whistle. "Bank left." A long whistle that swooped up at the end. "Bank right." Daxten continued through the other simple commands she'd taught him, ensuring that they were at least loud enough that she could hear him from on high. He didn't get all of them right, and often times he failed at whistling entirely, but he managed to at least get the important ones correct. He sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Okay, let's do this." He held up a fist and gave it a short wave. "You get in the air and let's see if you can hear me. If you can, then we can get this hunt started before it gets too late."

Azalea shrank back automatically when he started to turn, though thankfully he stopped before she had to come up with some sort of hiding place.

Or, worse, explanation.

She waited until he was done repeating the whistles; he seemed to have gotten most of them down, at least the most important ones, which was all she really could have asked for or expected. She nodded quickly when he suggested she get in the air, then remembered he couldn't see and flushed.

"Right. Hang on." She closed her eyes and inhaled, focusing on the pulsing cold in her chest where she felt her power came from.

It was easier this way, taking her dragon form. Probably because this was the shape she'd been most comfortable in for the last four years or so-- well, most of her life actually, now that she thought about it. She may have been born in human form, but even as a child she'd mostly played as a dragon.

She shook her head, trying to snap her attention back to the present, and felt her neck elongate as she did, her spine bending, stretching, curving as she fell forward onto four paws and spread her wings.

With a soft "Oof" she twisted her head from side to side and arched her wings back, cracking the joints as her body resettled. "Alright. Ready when you are!"

There was her voice. Almost the same as when she was human, but just a little...more. The echo of cracking ice beneath the words, a soft thrumming in her chest on the reverb. With a satisfied little snort, she snapped her wings open again and leaped into the air.

Takeoff from a standstill was typically rather difficult, but this was one instance when her smaller size was a benefit: her wing-to-body ratio was larger than an average dragon, allowing her to lift up quickly and easily. She spiraled up, higher and higher, until she was a white shape against the blue, almost able to be mistaken for a bird of prey as she circled above the grove.

Daxten tilted his head back to watch the sky, soon spotting Azalea above him. He wasn't sure why she'd needed him to turn his back, and found that he really didn't much care. She had her secrets and he had his. If this was the way to build trust between them, then that was what he would do - build trust. He waited until she was high enough that no one would recognize her as a dragon before he inhaled deeply, pursing his lips and letting out a long, loud whistle, the signal for her to bank left. As soon as he saw her obey, he let out another whistle, this one to bank right. Smiling, pleased that she could hear him, Daxten headed into the forest to see what he could rustle up for her.

Every once in a while, Daxten let out a shrill whistle only to let Azalea know where he was relative to her. He continued through the forest, moving slowly and carefully, looking for something that would ease a dragon's hunger. He wasn't so concerned with himself; he was certain he would find something to eat, or he could see if Azalea would share a little of her meal with him. Otherwise, well. It wasn't like he wasn't used to going hungry.

Daxten froze, his foot balanced precariously on an upraised root. Ahead of him, its head lifted as its ears swiveled from front to back, was a large buck. Its antlers had many prongs, signifying its age and strength. Quietly, Daxten nocked an arrow and brought his bow up, pulling back on the string. He didn't need to kill it. He only needed it to send it into a panicked run toward a clearing. He pulled back on his bowstring even more, then released his arrow.

The shaft flew true and struck the buck in the hindquarters. It squealed and took off at a flat run, and Daxten gave chase. He needed to keep the animal in sight to lead it to where he wanted it to go, making noise to startle the deer into making wrong turns.

Bank left! Daxten whistled as they took a sharp left. Ahead loomed a clearing. He hoped it was big enough for Azalea to rocket down and make her kill, otherwise he would have to chase the buck down himself.

Azalea couldn't help smiling to herself, just a bit, as Daxten's whistles floated up through the air and she found herself almost instinctively following the cues. She flew almost lazily for a time: until she heard the sharper whistle, bank left, and cut her wings through the air to follow the directions, looking down to search the trees for whatever Daxten had found.

There. The clearing. The flicker of movement over the earth that was the startled buck.

The dragoness narrowed her eyes and dove, front claws outstretched like a hunting hawk's, wings clasped tight to her sides as the wind tore passed her sides--

SLAM!

The buck was killed almost instantly by the impact, neck snapped, and Azalea had to curve her flight upward quickly to avoid plowing into the ground with him. She circled the clearing once, twice, then came in for a proper landing. She was almost panting, and a slight chill in the air around her betrayed what would have been a happy flush in human form.

"Nice shooting," she chuckled, giving Daxten a wink and a tilt of her head that was a draconic smile. "...I think we make a pretty decent team."

Daxten grinned at her, slowing to a halt as he joined her in the clearing. He saluted her with his bow, and laughed. "Yeah, I guess we do."

He resumed moving, coming closer to Azalea to retrieve his arrow from the buck's hide. He didn't want to have to make more, or buy new arrowheads, and since she hadn't broken the shaft, he figured he might as well get it back. He scrubbed the arrowhead clean in the grass, then moved to a safe distance and settled on the ground, cupping his chin in his hands.

"No need to wait on my account," Daxten told her. "If you're still hungry after that one, we can try to rustle up more."

"Oh, I doubt I need the whole buck." Azalea settled back on her haunches and reached her forepaws toward the animal. With quick, careful strokes, she set about stripping pelt from meat and meat from bone.

Perhaps it was a habit born from dinners with her father as a child, but she found she really never liked just tucking in to a raw animal with only her fangs.

Separating out a large strip of flank, she cocked her head at Daxten and blinked once. "Aren't you hungry? We should have time for this to cook, if you set up the campfire now."

Daxten blinked, uncertain if he should take her up on her offer or not. But he shrugged and moved to build a fire. He was certainly hungry, and he didn't know if he'd be able to get to the mess hall before it closed for the night. Especially since they needed to get themselves a saddle before the day was out.

It took him mere minutes to build the fire and get it steadily roaring. It took him only moments more to whittle some sticks down to use them as skewers, and on them he put the strips of meat that Azalea had created when she'd gutted and cleaned the deer. He wasn't sure exactly what she was going to do with her share, but he had built the fire hopefully big enough for her purposes as well.

Then he settled in the grass and waited for his share to cook. "I've never seen a dragon dress a carcass as neatly as you do." He winced, realizing how insensitive that sounded. "I mean, you're the only one I've ever seen. Where did you learn to do that?"

"Oh, my fath--"

Azalea snapped her mouth shut and quickly ducked her head. For what must have been the twentieth time that day, she found herself very glad that dragons couldn't actually blush. Her claws kneading anxiously at the soft earth as she quickly snapped up a haunch of meat and tossed it back, using the chewing as an excuse to buy herself some time.

"I just...sort of picked it up, I guess," she replied after a few moments, hoping her tone was as blithe and unbothered as she was aiming for. "I've been here a while, after all, I'm...sure I've picked up a few more humanish mannerisms."

Was that plausible? She hoped so. Her stomach lurched guiltily for lying to him, but she didn't see that she really had any other choice.

Clearing her throat, she snapped up another piece of meat, chewing a little more sedately this time.

Daxten looked up at her with a confused expression, catching her slip. But since she seemed not to want to elaborate, he didn't press the question. After all, if she didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to make her. But then when she continued talking, her voice wavering as she spoke, Daxten realized she was lying to him. He'd gotten pretty good at picking up what was truth and what was a lie in a person's voice - or dragon, in this case - but he'd also gotten better at not speaking his mind. That incident had taught him the virtues of silence, especially when someone didn't want to speak of something they didn't want to talk about.

So Daxten shrugged and turned his attention back to the fire, pretending to accept her answer and explanation as truth. After all, what did it matter if she was lying to him about this one thing? So long as she didn't lie to him when their lives depended on it, he could let a couple slide about her personal life.

"Well," Daxten said at last, "it's pretty efficient. I guess if we succeed and graduate together, I won't have to worry about dressing any kill we make while hunting together."

"Yeah, I can take care of that," Azalea agreed with a low rumble of amusement. She was glad he hadn't tried to press the issue, and she rather hoped he'd just forget her slip soon, if he'd noticed it at all.

She lowered her head to tear off another hunk of meat and tossed it back. Her wings flexed and shivered against her back as she swallowed, and a faint chill radiated off her scales--the same chill that was a near constant, but it seemed that when she realized it spread further.

Which was essentially true; the cold was a part of her, and she typically had to exercise a certain amount of will to keep it relatively contained. Now that she was no longer on duty, and the hunt was over, she found that she was...well, actually relaxed. It was the first time in a while that that had happened, now that she thought about it.

"...You know, they're sending trainees out on a basic patrol in a few weeks," she noted suddenly. "Only three pairs. It's supposed to encourage...friendly competition." She wasn't entirely sure herself where she was going with that. She'd never really cared about the occasional "prize" that their trainers would dangle in front of them to encourage them to work harder, and she doubted she was the only person--or dragon--who thought patrol wasn't exactly a reward.

Still...it would get them out of the city, which she hadn't really done since she'd joined the corps three years ago.

Daxten looked up at her from his meal as she spoke about the trainees being sent out for a basic patrol. It seemed too soon for that, he thought, but who was he to argue? Maybe Dragon Riders were trained in the field at a faster rate than normal soldiers? He didn't know. But he figured he needed to learn quickly, and he hoped Azalea would help him.

"So... does that mean we have to compete against the others in order to be chosen?" Daxten asked. "Or do you not want to be chosen? From what I remember about patrol..." His memory jumped backwards in time, and he looked away from Azalea, his gaze pointedly staying away from her tail, "it wasn't something you wanted to do. You had to do it, because it was part of your job, but it wasn't... like a reward or anything."

He focused on the fire, idly picking at the cooked meat on the spit in his hand and eating a few bites before licking his fingers free of grease. "Is that something you want to do? Try and win patrol duty?"

"I--I don't know," Azalea stammered out on instinct, almost startled into honesty. "I mean... Yes, the idea is for trainees to compete against each other during training. Sometimes there'll be tests that they tell us are tests, sometimes not."

She sighed and let her hand drop to rest on her paws, having finished with her portion of the deer. Absently, she began sweeping her tail back and forth over a section of soft earth, gradually carving a shallow divet into the ground. "I know it's not...well, it's probably not all the important. It is just a quick patrol assignment, no more than a week out. But it's supposed to be...I don't know, an opportunity, I suppose. A chance for dragons and their partners to prove what they can do in the field."

She shuffled her wings in a draconic shrug and twisted to scoop the remains of the deer into the shallow dip in the earth. "You're right, it's not--it's not important. It doesn't really matter, forget I mentioned it. Guess I was just trying to let you know, since the others will have already been told," she mumbled, feeling awkward, and ducked her head again.

Honestly, she didn't have an answer to his question: she didn't know if she really wanted to be chosen for the probationary patrol assignment, but she knew she was supposed to want it.

Daxten studied Azalea for a moment before he turned his attention back to his meal. "I don't get you," he whispered under his breath. One moment, she was all gung-ho about doing what she wanted, and now she was waffling about the decision. Daxten didn't care either way. He was going to prove himself one way or another, and he was going to help Azalea one way or another.

He ate quietly for a while, then said, "If you think it's important, then it's important. And it's not something that we can easily forget, not if the others know about it. They're going to be watching us, and I don't mean our fellow cadets." Daxten turned his attention onto her, a strange glint in his eyes. "The ordained Riders and the instructors are going to be watching us, too. Don't forget what they told us today. This is our last chance. If we don't succeed here, we might as well pack it in and go back to where we came from."

He let that sink in for a moment before he continued, "Is that what you want? To give up and not even try? We don't have to strive to be chosen. We just have to prove to them that they're wrong about us. That we can, when they tell us we can't." Daxten turned his attention back to the fire and frowned. He couldn't think of anything more to say on the matter. In the end, the decision rested with Azalea, not him. He sighed then, looking back at the dragoness with a small smile. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you. Now and always."

Azalea snapped her head up and around, blinking at him as he spoke with a sudden and seemingly newfound steeliness. She narrowed her eyes slightly, the ridges above her brows furrowing together just a bit--as much as scaly skin would allow.

"I don't want to give up," she replied sharply, automatically. It wasn't until the words left her mouth that she realized how snappish she sounded. She gave her head a sharp little shake and reared back slightly. "No one said anything about giving up," she muttered almost sullenly after a brief moment of quiet.

She fell silent again quickly, glancing to the side while the tip of her tail flicked back and forth across the ground like an irritated cat. Her claws kneaded at the earth, gouging small furrows in the soft dirt.

"...It's not just my decision," she sighed after another moment or two. "We're partners, Dax. We make choices like this together." She twisted her head around to look at him, violet eyes just a tad softer than normal. Her gaze held his for a moment, then she dropped her head down onto her paws with a small sigh. "I guess that's why I mentioned it. I...didn't know if it would be important to you or not. I just wanted you to know...well. What everyone else does. Even the playing field, as it were."

"Did you not hear what I said?" Daxten asked, finishing his meal and then leaning back on his hands so he could look up at the canopy of trees above him, and the sky beyond that. "I said I'm with you, whatever you decide. Moron."

He took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. "Yeah, we're partners. And we're gonna disagree about a lot of shit. We're going to agree about a lot of shit, too. Being partners... it isn't about what one of us wants more than the other. It's about what we want, equally. And you know what? I'm tired of people looking down on me for... for..." He clenched his teeth, a lump forming in his throat. Black memories rushed up at him then from the depths of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. Somehow Daxten beat them back, somehow he kept his reaction to just clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. He continued, his voice tight, "for everything. I want to show that I'm not what they all think I am. And I know it's going to be long and hard and that I'm going to want to give up dozens of times, but somehow I'll find the strength to keep moving forward."

Daxten rubbed his palms on his knees, trying to ease the aching in his knuckles. "Winning a spot to go on this trip? Yeah, it's not important to me. And it's not important because I've just started this dragon rider business and I don't know what to do or what's expected of me. So I don't think I really deserve it. But if you wanted it? If you wanted to do it? I wouldn't get in your way. And I'd do what I needed to support you."

Silence. For several long, slightly tense moments, there was only silence.

Then Azalea snorted quietly and darted her neck forward to give Daxten's shoulder a quick, sharp nudge, not quite enough to knock him over but still plenty firm.

"Did you just call me a moron?" Her eyes narrowed as she drew her head back, but there was a soft glint to their depths, a slight tilt to her head that betrayed playfulness in the expression rather than annoyance. Exhaling heavily, the dragoness arched her neck and curved her body around into a tight crescent. "Well. Your determination is admirable, if...maybe a little martyr-ish. This is my last shot too, remember?"

She lowered her head again to rest on the ground beside him, flicking her eyes back and up to look at his face. "If you feel like you want to give up...that's what I'm here for. That's when you come to me, okay?" She flicked her eyes away again. "Anyway. That's why I was... That's why I told you at all, I suppose, I just was...trying to foster some partnership. Trust. I don't know."

Another breath, then she lowered her voice a bit and added a little hesitantly, "And if you...need support. About anything. Whatever it is you can't talk about yet. I'm...here for that too."

"I guess I'm just a martyr," Daxten said, shifting to raise his arm and scratch at the scales across Azalea's nose. "Look... we've known each other for all of a day. We were thrown together by fate, I guess, and we haven't exactly been given the time to learn about each other like the other candidates probably have. I get the feeling that they're more advanced than we are, despite being in the same class." He shrugged and smoothed his palm down between her nostrils and around to her cheek, lightly running his thumb over the cool scales just below her eye. He'd always thought dragons were warm, but Azaela was cool, like a fresh snow fall. Just touching her felt refreshing. "I'm not one to give up. Even when things look... bleak... I don't. I can't."

Those memories were rising again and it took all his willpower to force them back down and away. Despite what she said about talking to her about them, about what he couldn't talk about yet, he couldn't tell her. If she knew... if she knew what he had done... what had happened... she'd turn away from him. Those who knew had. And Azaela, who didn't really know him at all except for what she had seen today, would abandon him in a heartbeat. He knew it. So if he really wanted this chance, that was one secret he would keep to himself.

Daxten shook his head to dispel the black thoughts and leaned back on his hands then, raising his gaze to the sky. "But if I can come to you if I feel like giving up, if I ever do, then you can come to me, too. And as far as fostering trust... Hey, I trusted you not to drop me when we're flying in the sky, didn't I?" He looked at her with a grin that he really didn't feel. "And you trusted me enough to let me on your back. To let me close. So we're working on it. A relationship is always a work in progress, right? So... we just have to keep working on it and learning about each other. And the first step to that is heading back and getting a saddle for the two of us. Don't you think?"

A soft crooning sound rose up from Azalea's chest to settle in her throat and she tilted her head slightly into his touch; it was an almost entirely involuntary response, and when she realized what she was doing her eyes widened a bit and her tail twitched.

Embarrassed, she pulled her head back and exhaled sharply, her breath coalescing in a puff of icy crystals. She was a dragon, godsdamnit, not a house cat!

"Right!" Jumping on the change of subject, she nodded quickly when he mentioned the saddle. "Well, if you've had enough to eat we can get going now. If you want." She shifted her bulk slightly, pressing herself a little closer to the ground in an effort to make climbing onto her back easier.

If she was being honest, she was still sort of worried. Well, that was pretty much a near constant state nowadays, but this time she was worried about something specific. Daxten. It was...new, being worried about an actual person, her partner, rather than just...the situation she found herself in. In a strange way, it was almost a relief. It allowed her to focus her energy on something she felt like she might actually be able to affect, to change. Hopefully.

Daxten shook his head with a small smile, amused by her sudden enthusiasm. Really, her worry didn't bother him. Her words didn't bother him. Either he would tell her or he wouldn't. Perhaps there would be a day where he could tell her what had happened, what had changed him, what had made it so this was his last chance. Why she was his last chance. But... right now he couldn't even bring himself to remember those days, to remember what he'd done, what had been done to him, what could have been if they hadn't been rescued. He pushed himself to his feet and began to douse the fire with earth, covering the flames until they were smothered out. He made sure that they were indeed dead before he began to clean up their site a little, trying to put it back to the way it was before they had arrived.

It was an easy task, considering the remains of Azalea's kill could be utilized by the other things that lived in the forest. Taking one last look to make sure the site was back to its original state as much as it could be, Daxten moved toward Azalea and climbed up onto his spot on her back. He settled down and leaned forward, assuming the position for her take off.

If he had to be honest with himself, he was kind of excited to see what saddle would be theirs. Something that was wholly the two of them, unique and no one else's. He'd seen the saddles that belonged to the others, and he began to wonder how long they had been with their dragon partners. Some time, if he could judge correctly, but he still thought he and Azalea had the advantage over them, what with her experience from her previous riders and his experience with combat tactics. He didn't doubt that the others were strong and knowledgable in their own right, but sometimes theory didn't hold up to practice. Especially when one was faced with the stress and terror of something unexpected and never before experienced.

"I'm ready when you are," he told Azalea, running his hand down her neck and then between her wings, what he remembered as the signal to take flight. Or at least, he hoped it was.

It was the signal to take flight, but Azalea hadn't been expecting it--honestly, she'd never really had a partner who'd felt comfortable just giving the physical cues without an accompanying phrase or word--and so she gave a sharp start, jerking her head halfway around to look at him before she caught herself and straightened out again, flaring her wings with a sharp snap.

Rolling her shoulders back just slightly to re-familiarize herself with the weight and feel of Daxten on her back, she trotted forward a few steps and then bounded into the air, wings fanned wide to catch an updraft that sent them rocketing into the air.

She curved into a soft bank back toward the city, flying in silence until they were over the outlying buildings.

"The smith I've heard recommended is down there, in the crafters' district," she said as she dipped into a very shallow descent, circling the west end of Ketra and gradually coming closer to the ground as she did. "I've never actually met the smith, but his son has been by the barracks a few times. He's a nice lad."

She wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him that. Maybe just to make conversation. That was typical partner thing to do, right?

Daxten listened quietly as she spoke, leaning low to prevent too much drag as she came in for a landing. He'd never met the smith's son himself, so he trusted her word on that. When she finally landed, and he was sure that he could speak without his words and breath being snatched away by the wind, he said, "Well, hopefully the son's a good reflection of the father."

He slid from her back to the ground, landing lightly and bending his knees to help absorb the impact. He looked up at Azalea and offered her a little smile. "Well, you know the way better than I do, so why don't you lead on?"

He stepped to the side to give her enough room to fold her wings and start off, though he walked beside her. It was strange, really, to be walking beside Azaela as if he did it every day, as if it was the most normal thing he'd ever done in his life. They'd only known each other for less than a day, and here he was, acting like they'd been together for years. He didn't know if that was just his projection or if he actually just was used to her already. Their day had been kind of spent getting to know each other and getting used to one another. Chalking it up to that he was just used to her, Daxten walked beside her, his eyes forward, though he was watching the people around them and watching the shops they passed by.

Dragons weren't exactly an uncommon sight in this district of the city, but still Azalea tried to mind her step as much as possible, delicately picking her way through the flow of foot traffic and occasionally curving herself slightly toward Daxten so that she could sort of shepherd him through the crowds--for obvious reason, people tended to give dragons a wide berth.

"It's that building just there--see? Looks like the forge is working." She indicated the building she meant with a swift jerk of her head, and sure enough there was a white plume of smoke feathering out from the chimney above the forge that seemed to connect to a small house.

An absolute mountain of a man stood in the entrance to the forge, arrange a display of blades that faced out onto the street. His back was to them at first, but he straightened up and swiped a hand across his brow after a moment with a sharp huff, then planted his hands on his hips and gave a quick nod, evidently satisfied with his work.

The mountain turned, and it became quite suddenly apparent that he was much younger than his massive frame might first indicate. His eyes lit on the young dragoness and her partner and a smile suddenly spread across his face, revealing the uneven dimples that marked his cheeks.

"Hey there! Azalea, right?" He raised a hand in greeting, looking between her and Daxten. "You two here for a saddle?"

Azalea blinked, then narrowed her eyes and tilted her head in a dragon's smile. "Hello, Gwaine. Yes, we are, actually, how'd you guess?"

The blacksmith's son, Gwaine, smiled crookedly and gestured for them to come closer. While Azalea couldn't fit into the forge, she could at least get her bulk off the street, and Daxten could follow the other young man inside. "There's only so many reasons a dragon comes down to a forge, and saddle fitting tends to be the most likely." His eyes flickered toward Daxten, looking him over. "Sorry, I'm being rude. Name's Gwaine, this is my Da's place. I'm his apprentice, so I've been up to the barracks a few times fitting dragons and their riders for various weapons and saddles, met Azalea once or twice. What's your name?"

Daxten remained silent as they walked through the streets, and all but stopped when Azalea pointed out the forge. Or, more accurately, stopped when she pointed out the mountain of a man standing before the entrance of the forge, arranging a display of blades. Daxten's eye ran over the blades quickly and critically. His first real introduction to weapons had been when he'd been a boy back on his parents' farm, learning how to shoot a bow and how to properly skin an animal with a hunting knife. Those weapons had been crude, the best his father could make on his own or pay for. These weapons made those crude weapons of his childhood seem like toys made out of wood rather than the stone or rare metal that they had been crafted from.

When the mountain turned, Daxten felt his shoulders tighten out of instinct, and his spine straightened. He wasn't sure exactly why he suddenly felt so threatened. Perhaps it was the man's size, or perhaps it was the memories that lurked at the back of his mind that had never gone away and didn't seem to want to go away. But either way, Daxten was stiff and tense and even though the man seemed to be about Daxten's own age or a little older, and even though a friendly smile split across his face, Daxten simply couldn't relax or let his guard down. And it didn't matter that Azalea was beside him; she couldn't soothe the sudden anxiety that flooded his system, making him hyperaware of everything going on around him.

Aware of that mountain of a man.

Daxten flinched when the man raised his hand, and he hoped that Azalea or the blacksmith hadn't seen him do it. Calm down. Calm down. This is nothing. We're just here for a saddle and that's it. It isn't like... he isn't like... Daxten took a deep breath.

Then Azalea was addressed by the blacksmith, Gwaine, and Daxten used the opportunity afforded to him by their chitchat to force down the anxiety and all the other feelings suddenly brought to the fore by this man's presence.

Then Gwaine gestured for them to follow him into the smithy. Since Azalea couldn't fit all but her head into the building, really, that left Daxten to follow the other young man inside. Swallowing hard, Daxten followed, unconsciously tensing up again when Gwaine finally looked at him and addressed him.

"Uh, Daxten," Daxten replied, forcing back the apprehension. He forced his gaze away from Gwaine and looked around the shop, astonished by the amount of armor and weaponry that was on display. He'd never seen anything like it, even in the guardroom and armory when he was a common soldier. He shifted, moving toward a rack of swords and shields to study them. They looked skillfully made, reliable and sharp, and way out of his paygrade. He hadn't been reequipped upon his return, and the equipment he'd been given in the first place hadn't been the best. "These are amazing. Your father's really skilled."

He looked toward Gwaine then, hoping that the expression on his face wasn't one of tension or anything negative. "So, yeah, we're here about a saddle for the two of us. We... well... I... don't really know what that all entails, other than the obvious."

Azalea thought she felt Daxten flinch, but when she glanced down at him he seemed fine. He imagination, then?

Deciding to put it from her mind for the moment, she curled herself up as much off the street and out of the way of the forge's main entrance as she could manage, letting her head come to rest on her front paws just in front of Gwaine's carefully arranged display of weapons.

When Daxten complimented the metalwork, Gwaine actually blushed, and Azalea found herself chuckling quietly to herself--it was just such an odd look on a man who was so intimidating at first glance, sheepish and shy. It didn't suit him, but he couldn't very well help that.

"Well, um, thanks." The blacksmith's apprentice smiled and rubbed at the back of his neck, cheeks ruddy. "Theses, are, um...these are actually mine. Most of them. Da said I could put my work out in the front, which is why I was fiddling with those things--Anyway." He cleared his throat and shot them another smile. "I'll just, uh, I'll get Da. He can do your measurements, Ser Denarym, just hold on one minute."

Azalea snorted, taken aback at being called "Ser Denarym". People didn't typically use her surname--she'd entirely forgotten that Gwaine even knew it.

Daxten accepted Gwaine's thanks with only a nod in response. He didn't know exactly what he was supposed to say in response, but he knew that he couldn't really embarrass Gwaine any further. He'd complimented the weaponry, which he supposed was embarrassment enough. At the use of the strange name - Denarym - Daxten looked toward Azalea at her reaction to it. Was that her last name? Was that a typical thing? Did dragons have last names? He thought it a strange practice for anything non-human, but he supposed that even other sentient creature had to keep track of their bloodlines somehow. He just wasn't sure if Azalea's last name was her mother's or her father's, and it seemed - to him, anyway - rude to ask.

Daxten spent his time browsing the weapons, shields, and other things that were in the shop while Gwaine went to go fetch his father for the measurements. Since Azalea didn't seem to mind him browsing, nor did she seem in the mood for conversation, Daxten was content to keep to himself, allowing his eyes to trail over the wares set out on display. He figured he could spend hours here, just looking. He decided that he would eventually need to get new equipment himself. Everything that he'd been issued had been taken from him, had been left behind, so that he couldn't cause trouble while he was... there. Being moved. Like chattel. Of course, the intent had been to sell him, probably to the highest bidder, and then who knew what his life would have been after that moment.

He shook his head to clear it and turned his attention to Azalea, watching her. He was fascinated by the idea of watching her get measured for her saddle, although he was apprehensive about his own role in it. The saddle was supposed to fit the both of them, after all. He wondered, then, how many times Azalea had gone through this, and slowly wandered over to her, reaching to pat the side of her cheek. He let his fingers trace the shape of her scales for a moment, uncertain whom he was trying to comfort more - him or her.

"So," he said quietly, "are you okay? With this, I mean."

Azalea let her head rest on her crossed paws and watched Daxten lazily as he browsed through the forge's wares. At first she was just doing it for lack of anything better to do--but then he went sort of tense around the shoulders, just a bit, it was really barely noticeable. Her eyes opened a little wider and she suddenly watched him more carefully, though she didn't raise her head; she didn't want to spook him, he seemed...a little off.

But then he seemed to shake himself out of it and she relaxed again. Her eyes slid back to half mast, and she almost convinced herself that she hadn't actually noticed anything, she was just being too cautious, hyper-aware of her new partner and any subtle shift for fear of doing something wrong.

Almost.

But she didn't press it.

If he had anything he wanted to tell her, he would. When he was ready, or when it was the right time.

She exhaled a sharp, slightly startled breath when he approached and pat her cheek almost absently. She tilted her head slightly so she could get a better look at him, but didn't pull back from the touch. It was...certainly odd, something she wasn't used to. But it wasn't exactly unpleasant.

Companionable?

In fact...she thought she might like it.

"I'm alright," she murmured softly in reply, giving him a slow blink, almost like an affectionate cat, and turning her head a bit into his hand. "I've never actually done this, but I've seen it done." She'd actually never had a partner so open to getting a saddle right off the bat--it was an expensive and sometimes lengthy process after all, most pairs didn't get their own molded saddle for a few months, instead using the generic training saddles: effective, but not particularly comfortable.

She didn't feel the need to share that. Perhaps they were being a bit impulsive, or perhaps they were...investing. In each other, as it were. With another little huff, she added, "It's just time consuming, but it's not as though it's uncomfortable. Are...are you okay? Is that why you asked?"

Was he okay? He didn't know. On one level, the answer was yes. He was fine with his current situation, even a little excited about it. He couldn't make it as a soldier, but he could definitely make it as a dragon rider. Despite having Azalea as his companion, it was pretty solitary work, unless he and she needed to work with others. Beyond that, he really didn't know how to answer her. Deep down, he knew he wasn't okay. He'd never be 'okay' ever again. He'd be fine enough, unless something happened that scratched too close to the hidden feelings he'd tamped down into the furthest recesses of his mind and soul.

For a while, he simply stroked her scales, running his fingers over the cool edges and tracing each small scale along her jaw. It was a distraction for himself, so he could order his thoughts and come up with an answer that would satisfy them both. He knew that what they were doing was unusual, since they'd known each other for little less than a day. But at the same time, he felt that what they were doing was the right thing. They were each other's last hope, so why not invest in that dream and make it a reality? Why not push each other to the limits and improve each other, and prove wrong all those people who thought that they wouldn't amount to much or fail out completely?

Finally, Daxten raised his head to stare into Azalea's eye, seeing himself reflected on her iris and pupil. His hair was a windblown mess, and there was a slight flush to his face from his earlier exertion, between flying with Azalea and hunting with her. There was a roughness to his face, too, like he hadn't gotten enough sleep, or that he was gazing at the world like it was going to turn on him, and he was desperately searching for someone to trust. How strange that that someone was right here in front of him, scales and all.

"Yeah," Daxten replied at last. "That's why I asked. I mean... this is sudden, right? Everyone else has had time to get to know each other, and you and me have barely gotten time to figure out exactly how I should sit so I don't bend your scales backwards." He gave an awkward laugh at his own lame joke, sobering quite quickly. "But... I don't think this is the wrong idea. I think... we're doing the right thing. And once we get this done, then we can show them what we can really do."

He dropped his gaze for a minute, then looked up at Azalea again, a small smile quirking his lips. "Wouldn't you like to see the look on Ambrose's face when we can do these maneuvers better than the others?"

As his fingers continued to trace and stroke over her scales, Azalea found her eyes growing strangely heavy, falling to half-lidded as a low, crooning, rumbling sound that was embarrassingly like a purr started to thrum through her chest.

She couldn't help it! No one was really this familiar with her as a dragon, no one ever had been; she hadn't even realized having her scales pet like that would be something she liked, much less like as much as she clearly did.

A soft chuckle rumbled in the back of her throat for his attempt at a joke, recognizing it for what it was and not wanting him to feel awkward about it, as he clearly did. She twisted her head slightly and bumped her nose gently against his shoulder, eyes a bit softer than normal as she looked him over.

"I've been waiting to wipe that stupid smug smirk off Ambrose's face since I was fifteen," she huffed with a soft laugh, the tip of her tail twitching back and forth before she caught herself and curled the long appendage in against her side.

Before she could say anything else though, Gwaine and his father appeared in the door of the forge, and the blacksmith gave both dragon and rider a wide, welcoming grin. "'Lo there, Ser Denarym," he greeted Azalea with a respectful nod before turning his attention toward Daxten. "And...forgive me, lad, m'boy didn't tell me your name?"

Gwaine flushed in clear embarrassment and seemed to try to shrink back behind his father a bit--which was a rather futile endeavor, considering that despite the blacksmith's size, his son was still taller than him by nearly half a foot.

Daxten chuckled, dropping his head to press his cheek against Azalea's. "Then let's wipe that smirk off Ambrose's face, and make him publicly praise us for our achievements."

It was a long shot, though, even Daxten had to admit. Of the two of them Azalea was the more experienced, and Daxten himself had a long way to go to even begin to feel like he belonged in the saddle on her back. Or, in the ranks of the dragon riders at all. There was a heavy weight on his shoulders, a weight that seemed less with Azalea around, but still there, still in the back of his mind and scarred into his heart and body even if he didn't really have any physical scars to show anyone. But despite being a long shot, despite being almost impossible, Daxten knew that they couldn't do anything except try.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Daxten pushed away from Azalea, and he turned to face the door to the forge. He tensed a little again as Gwaine filled the doorway, accompanied by a man he assumed to be Gwaine's father. Both father and son shared the same facial features and body structure, the same muscles honed by years of hammering metal into shape. The only thing Gwaine lacked was the lines of experience around his eyes and the firm swagger of knowledge that only older adults and parents seemed to exude. Daxten was reminded of his own father by the sight of Gwaine's, and for the first time in a while, he wondered how his own family was doing. They hadn't heard from or seen him since he left to enlist in the army. Of course, Daxten didn't think he could face his family now, not like he was. He didn't think that he was worthy of that. Or that he could subject them to what he'd experienced. How could they understand?

He forced himself to relax during the time the elder smith addressed Azalea, and he did his best to seem friendly. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, as if it was okay that he hadn't been introduced earlier. "Daxten Solario. I only gave Gwain my first name."

He moved toward the blacksmith, his eyes glancing toward Gwaine as the younger man tried to make himself unnoticeable. Daxten couldn't help but give Gwaine a teasing smile, even as he put his hand out to Gwaine's father to shake, as was the polite thing to do. Then Daxten returned his attention to the master smith, trying to appear to be friendly. "It's a pretty strange name, and I'm not as pretty as Azalea. It's little wonder that he forgot I was here."

The dragon raised her head just slightly off her paws, pressing back against him with a low, short crooning sound in the back of her throat, though she didn't respond verbally--even if she'd wanted to, Gwaine and his father entered the outer shop and she found herself drawing back from Daxten slightly, a bit abashed that she'd been acting so...pettish. She was a dragon, for gods' sakes!

Gwaine's blush deepened and he seemed to be trying to shrink in on himself even further as his father chuckled in response to Daxten's introduction. "Well I don't know anything about that, lad, I'm sure. But I can leave the measuring of Ser Denarym to Gwaine if you like, and you can deal with me directly."

He moved toward a smallish alcove just off the side of the forge and beckoned for Daxten to follow. "Dragon saddles--the good ones, at any rate--are tailored to the dragon themselves, of course, but there's quite a few bells and whistles we can add or tweak depending on the rider's preference. Why don't you tell me what you'd like to work with and I'm sure we can find something within garrison-approved costs." He glanced over his shoulder at Azalea even as his son moved forward and gave the dragoness a polite little half-bow, a long, thin strip of leather coiled up in his hand. "I'm assuming you'll be using funds from the barracks?"

Azalea nodded with a little snort. She was still a trainee, neither she nor her rider would make any sort of real coin for their service until they were fully initiated.

"Oh, yeah," Daxten pulled the coin purse that he'd been given from his pocket, holding it out on the palm of his hand as he offered it to the blacksmith. "We were allocated this to get a decent saddle for the two of us. I really don't know how much is in there, but I assume that since the quartermaster gave it to us, personally, it's probably enough for a small bell or tiny whistle."

Honestly, though, Daxten doubted there was much in there for anything more than a basic saddle. He doubted that two screw-ups like him and Azalea were to be afforded enough money to buy something that would see years of use. He couldn't even begin to imagine how many saddles Azalea had gone through with her partners. He would've suggested perhaps that they could've used one of those, because he assumed they'd been returned to whomever had made them, but if it was true that the saddles were specific to each dragon and rider, then there'd be no way those saddles would be comfortable for him. And he doubted that saddles like that could be altered.

He followed the blacksmith, uncertain exactly what the man wanted to show him. But he supposed he could tell him what he was looking for easily enough. "I guess something that's comfortable for the both of us," Daxten started, "something that's easy to maneuver in. Probably something simple enough to get in and out of in a hurry. Something sturdy. Something that'll weather. That'll last."

He wasn't sure exactly what he was describing, but he knew that he didn't want something that was fancy and hard-molded. He didn't think Azalea would appreciate impractical bells and whistles that did nothing for them except perhaps give away their position or make it harder to get the saddle on and off. Or him in and out of the saddle. He didn't want a saddle like that. Even as Daxten walked and thought, he was pretty sure that he'd already described his ideal saddle, and he couldn't think of anything else that might work for him or Azalea or both.

He looked up at the blacksmith and lifted his shoulders slightly. "Beyond that, I really don't know what else. I've never... really worked with dragons before, and today was my first day with Azalea. So... I suppose whatever else you think would be necessary."

Owen took the coin pouch from Daxten and weighed in his own palm, peeked inside, then nodded to himself thoughtfully. He tucked the money away in a pouch, pulling out a small pad of paper and what appeared to be a stick of charcoal as he began jotting down notes while the younger man spoke.

"Practical," he noted approvingly with a small nod. His eyes flickered over Daxten's shoulder toward Azalea, who was doing her best to hold as still as possible as Gwaine was forced to sort of clamber over her in an effort to get an accurate measurement of the length of her haunches between her wings.

The dragon shot her new partner a quick, droll look as Gwaine's foot slipped and he sort of collapsed sideways along her spine with a "whoof!", though she somehow managed to keep herself relatively still.

Owen snorted quietly and shook his head, though his eyes were bright and clever as they flickered over Azalea again from nose to tail, then back to Daxten. "Well, it sounds to me like what you two need is something light and flexible, that you could mayhaps both get in and out of in a hurry."

"It'll make sense in the long run, too," Gwaine piped up from where he now stood under Azalea's left wing, measuring the length of the first spindly joint that stretched through the pure white, nearly translucent membrane. "With the ice dragons from down out of the mountains, the females tend to be smaller, faster. Built for speed and agility rather than brute force. So you two will probably run a lot of recon missions, that sort of thing. A light, flexible saddle will go a long way with that. Not to mention it'll keep you somewhat insulated from her breath, since it's easier to wrap that kind of saddle in wool or something around the seat and pommel."

"For this much..." Owen mused, tilting his head back and forth as he apparently ran some mental calculations. "We could have something basic done up in...about three days. Maybe three and a half, if you want the insulation Gwaine mentioned. You probably already noticed that ice dragons hold a chill the same way the more common breeds retain warmth in their scales."

Azalea huffed and rolled her eyes. One of the strangest aspects of living in her dragon form among mainly humans, she had discovered, was the simultaneous reverence and patronizing that tended to be directed toward her. People recognized that she was a sentient creature--and a rather powerful one at that--but most still couldn't seem to move past the idea of "beast" that her form projected, and would sometimes talk about her as though she, and the rest of her kind, were little more than intelligent livestock.

As Gwaine and his father just had, though she knew the young man didn't mean anything by it. He tended to get clinical when he was working, much like Owen.

So rather than get properly offended, she just sat in silence, watching the three men dryly with her head once more resting on folded paws.