[Dazadi]

Things had gone to Hel in a well-crafted handbasket, and Daz wasn't just talking about the most recent meeting with the Synedrion. The Empire was balking, yet again, about funds for the Chandric Barricade. Daz didn't blame them, really she didn't. It seemed like the Anyeli were shouldering the worst of the financial burden, border patrols having reported too many Mystrider scouts crossing Empire territory for comfort. The mountains were the spine of the mainland, cutting eastern civilisation off from the biggest threat - the location of the Acanthan portal - so support was generally slow in coming, as if Alexshire and all the rest failed to realise that an invasion could just as easily make for the Fae portal and then get up close and personal before they even knew what was happening. The Faeth clans and communes had volunteered manpower, at least. The Anyeli were probably the least vulnerable of the lot of them, though, shielded as they were by rugged mountains and cloud-top abodes. So, no, Daz didn't blame them.

She was fed up of having the exact same meeting every week for half a year. Granted, she didn't have to attend them all. They'd probably prefer she didn't, actually, but Xanth had given her carte blanche to Aide as she pleased, and she hadn't spent so long as the Archon (mindless or not) to let the new guy slide her people into oblivion. She was fairly sure he was trying to discredit Xanth for his own ends. Normally, she wouldn't give a damn about all this political and religious crap - let Xanth defend herself - but with another god waiting in the wings to take over, Daz would be damned (more than she was already) if she'd let this go unargued.

“Ergh.” She wanted to kick his head in, so she kicked at air instead. She was perched on the roof of the Central Tower after the meeting, stripping flakes of moss from the tiles. She could just make out voices from the Council Room's balcony below, but was trying not to listen for fear of being pushed over the edge - not literally, because she could fly if that happened and she had excellent footing, but she was already tempted to throw Alexis off the nearest balcony. And oh, look, the nearest balcony was right there.

[Kiril]

Death by meetings. Sitting straight against the back of his chair, Kiril downed his second cup of Keikis-grown coffee. Two hours in, and the meeting with Paia's nahani still ran in seemingly endless circles. At first, they'd sailed smoothly down the agenda, but then they reached the topic of Acantha. The arguments were the same as the last time. They almost felt scripted.

“My people report of mystriders crossing the Fae, visiting New Alexandria. They are becoming too curious.”

“Acantha lives in squalor,” sniffed Farag. Placing both palms on either side of his chair, he leaned forward with agitation. “They have much to gain from invading Elysia. How soon before they look toward Zanarya?”

“If Danae is Xanth's equivalent, surely he would have the means to steal our portal.”

The nation had been adamant about it six months ago, and they were just as adamant now---Paia wanted to shut down the Zanaryan portal. Kiril wasn't surprised at all. Even after the Hundred Year War, the Paians still continued building fortresses upon their sea of mountains. They were stringent with border patrol and aggressively questioned outsiders who wished access into the nation. Talk about paranoid. Even Los was less extreme about the portal than Paia, and out of all the nations, Los had the most to lose. Opposite of Paia, Los held the flattest territories, and the nation never quite recovered from the war. Admittedly, the country had invested a lot of coin into reviving the bunkers along the Northern Marshes. Many a marid patrolled the coast, practicing drills nowadays should the island of Farahij ever be compromised.

The meeting ended when one of the council-members proposed to speak with the Reixans. Hypothetically, the mystriders could easily cross the thin Deryad channel. Kiril had yet to confirm that, but he'd check with his informants soon. As the councillers filed out of the room, Kiril spoke briefly with the nahani before leaving as well. Various plates of food remained on the table from breakfast, so he claimed a plate of shortbreak cookies as he focused on another dimension. Though he'd reported to Xanth a few times already, he was long overdue for notes comparison with his counterpart in Elysia. Locating Dazadi upon a rooftop in the Cloud Palace, Kiril aimed his arrival a few feet from her side. There were many months since he'd last seen the skotadi, but she hadn't changed much. She looked tired though. “Cookies for your thoughts?”

[Dazadi]

Dazadi froze, a minute tensing of muscles across her shoulders and down her spine as a breeze kicked up off the mountain and wound through the towers, fluttering her hair along with it. She'd let it grow too long, at first an unconscious non-decision made from laziness and then, when Olly said it softened her and made her more approachable, a conscious choice to let people think she'd mellowed, too. She had, actually, no longer given to shoving people up against walls for looking at her sideways, no longer tempted to throw them off of balconies, no longer - Oh, wait. Maybe it was less about gaining control over her impulses and more about just not having the time.

Daz shot a grin over the sharp angle of her shoulder. “They better have chocolate in them.” She'd eat said cookies, regardless, because one of the things she'd learned about Kiril over the decades was that he knew good food.

Daz kicked her feet and patted the roof tiles next to her, sliding her hands between her knees to keep them warm. She gestured, with a jerk of her chin, to the muted voices coming from the floor below. “My thoughts aren't worth much.” The corner of her mouth curled up in a wicked smirk. “Then again, if anyone can appreciate them, it'd be you.” They had learned to make the most of their immortality together, after all, and Kiril liked tormenting the poor mortals, too. “Are you as fed up with this political dashiri poop as I am?”

[Kiril]

Tilting the plate so the anyeli could see the non-chocolate cookies, Kiril grinned back at his long-time colleague. “They're still good. Take it or leave it.” Paian desserts were more bland in comparison to what Serres or Los offered, but Kiril had taken to a liking for their shortbread cookies, which had the right balance of sugar with a hint of butter and salt. The cookies weren't worth sitting through the Paian council, but they made the chore a little less dreary. As he sat beside Daz, Kiril let his feet dangle off the edge of roof as well.

Sighing melodramatically, he took a cookie and waved it in the air. “Zanaryans are annoying as Hel. Keikis and Serres take too many risks trading in Acantha. Everyone else just wants to lock us all away. Can't let that happen though, we don't even know if Acantha's really a threat.” Chomping down on the whole cookie, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolled up his sleeves to enjoy the refreshing cold. Nights in the anyeli nation were chilly even while deep in summertime.

Was he tired yet? Probably not—it had taken over a decade for him and Sylope to help the 'vari in Nirim, so the last six months with his own kind was nothing compared to his time with the Dragons. Unfortunately though, he had the feeling that the portal debate would continue even long after the Acanthan issue was cleared. Regardless, he still would have insisted on mediated for the Acanthan issue, even if Xanth hadn't asked him to help with damage control. He knew Dazadi would do the same. However, doing something out of duty didn't always mean you'd be happy doing it, so Kiril tilted his face to look toward Daz. “How's your side holding up?”

[Dazadi]

Daz plucked out two cookies just so she could have one in both hands, nibbling them at turns and shooting Kiril a half-amused, half-"don't you dare take this off me" smirk as he put into words everything she wanted to rant about her own people. Okay, so the Empire wasn't divided into four - six, really. It was hard to tell when Zanaryans counted the rebels as nations and when they just liked to pretend they didn't exist - but a lot of the problems were the same. There were factions within the factions who wanted to expand the Empire, others who wanted to pull back within their borders and knuckle down until the trouble passed, others still who thought it their Xanth-given duty to bring the 'Light' back to the world by forcing their religion on everyone else, who thought it a good idea to rebuild Dionica and unearth a bunch more temples so they could shout to the sky that they were the most devout of all Elysians.

“It's really a threat,” she said, thinking of what she'd seen through Xanth's looking-glass walls and the fear she'd seen in the self-proclaimed goddess's eyes. She wasn't sure how to relay that to Kiril, though. Xanth's secrets annoyed the crap out of Daz, but sometimes she understood the reason for them. If she hadn't told Kiril the full truth herself, then Daz was reluctant to do it for her.

Then again...

“Ugh.” Daz flopped back on the roof tiles, one cookie gone and the other half-decimated already. They weren't chocolate or chocolate chip or anything to do with brown chocolatey goodness, but they still tasted good, all the same. “Same as yours, I expect. I want to wrap my hands around Alexis' squawking neck and drop him over the palace so he splats to his death in the courtyard where everyone can point and laugh at his insides.” Her lips quirked up at the gorey description, already cheered up by her own imagination. She could picture very clearly the gap-mouthed shock on the Archon's face when his spine crashed through his chest. He might even survive the fall if she did it right, just long enough for him to hear the crush of voices telling him it served him right. “Why are people so... so...?” She squeezed her fingers together like claws, mimicking the act of throttling someone because there was no word that could encompass the wealth of infuriating, and certainly not one that could cross the language gap. “Ugh. Kiril.” Daz flopped her head onto his shoulder and peeked up at his jawline, fluttering her eyelashes. It was a look she'd seen on Piper when the Vampire thought she could weasel her way out of danger with soft pleas. Daz had practised in the mirror, purely to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but it looked like her eyeball had just swallowed a midge instead. “I'm so bored with this taroch dung.”

[Kiril]

He recognized there were dangerous things in Acantha, but to hear Daz outright call it a 'threat'...Kiril's brow furrowed as he wondered about Xanth's visit all those months ago. She'd admitted to an earthquake, told him about the Acanthan portal, and warned him about Danae. He could still remember that calm aloofness in Xanth's expression when she asked him to prevent Zanarya from panic. He'd known better than to completely believe in her peaceful facade, but he thought she'd had things under control (Vicious and Aurrora had turned out okay, hadn't they?).

The barbaric massacre from the malaki species was surprising enough to hear about, not to mention the horrors encountered during the Elysian vanguard's journey. On the other side of the spectrum were the complex Acanthan skyboats, the surreal water moon, and the curious but friendly nature of the mystriders. Admittedly, Kiril had only learned about those things second-hand, and each perspective had no doubt been colored by the speakers' personal agendas. While he was unsettled about Acantha's true motives, he was nevertheless inclined to wait warily and give the new realm a chance. A long time ago, that same benefit of doubt had allowed him to accept Elysia when his Zanaryan upbringing would have otherwise rejected it.

Slender hands waved at the air beside him as Dazadi mimicked choking some poor fool. The zanaryan arched an eyebrow at the anyeli and snickered. He'd entertained the thought of setting Farag's hair on fire before, but never in that much detail. “It sounds as if you've put a lot of thought into this...should I warn Alexis?” Torso tilting as Dazadi placed weight on his shoulder, Kiril looked toward the ex-archangel with an amused smirk as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. The puppy-eyed look might have appeared attractive if they had been strangers, but with his close acquaintance with Dazadi, it was downright disturbing.

“You know what, I'm tired of meetings too.” Dark wings unfolding as his mind drifted south of the continent, Kiril looped an arm around Daz's. He'd always favored action over sitting and making theories. “Be a dear and cloak us, will you? Let's find something worthwhile.”

As the duo materialized in a quiet area of Espur's harbor, a slight wind drifted over the waves and went mostly unnoticed. Stationed beside one of the ferry buildings, a mystdragon lifted its head curiously at the unnatural breeze.

[Dazadi]

“Don't warn him. Gods!” Daz didn't elaborate. Kiril could probably hear the rest of it without her ever actually vocalising it. She was an assassin, trained to slink out of shadows and maintain the element of surprise. If she ever did decide to throw Alexis into the courtyard (and she would have to tie up his wings first so he couldn't recover or just fly away), she wanted it to be a total surprise. At any rate, she figured Kiril was teasing, but she wouldn't put it past the Zanaryan to mess with her just for the fun of it - especially if he was as bored as she was. Sadly, any hint that anyone, even an Aide to Xanth, wanted the Archon dead would escalate the faction in-fighting and ruin any chances anyone had of uniting the Empire against this new threat. Daz may still be Skotadi at heart when it mattered, but she was also old enough, wise enough, and Aide enough these days to see more of the bigger picture. Setting off another bout of civil war would only make the Empire vulnerable if Danae or his minions decided to attack.

Daz cloaked them on command, lips quirking at the irony of following the orders of a man she both considered a friend and a rival. She hadn't even hesitated, flaring her wings around them both until they dripped with shadows that morphed and merged and swirled around them. The teleport was a jolt of motion roiling in her belly, the tang of sea air hitting her nostrils like a wave of salt and ozone. Daz looked around, the lack of people making the more natural noises stand out. Gulls shrieked a hungry cacophany, echoed by the distant shout of sailors and the ding of the harbourmaster's bell. The coastline was distinctive enough to recognise immediately.

“Espur. Ugh. And here I was, thinking you'd take me somewhere romantic.” Daz sneered at a patch of dashiri poop smeared across the cobbles. “Or at least someplace interesting.” The most Espur had to offer these days was the infrequent shadow-dancing at the Espureum, and even that wasn't a patch on the shows offered by the Alexandrian Coliseum. Then again, that had been mostly closed since the quake, so they were probably on par for each other now.

The mystrider apparently had other ideas about how interesting Espur was, though. It went from curiously sniffing at the air to flaring out its wings and flashing neon colours, shrieking frantically as if it had caught the scent of a predator. Daz was awfully tempted to preen at that, but winced and jolted back instead, elbowing Kiril in the gut and hissing out the corner of her mouth. “Nice parking job, bat-brain.”

[Kiril]

Arm linked with Dazadi's, Kiril blithely ignored the anyeli's complaints as he scanned the wharf. The sun had barely risen in the coastside city, and the stone-paved path was devoid of people usually seen in the day. However, the harbor already bore signs of activity as fishermen hauled their catches to the shore. With fish this fresh, Kiril usually would have been tempted to buy one to go, but then he'd just had dinner in Zanarya.

Inhaling the salty-humid breeze, Kiril grinned when a bright mist of colors saturated the air. The mystdragon's flashes were a beacon in the new dawn. “There it is.” Daz's sharp jab in his abdomen was not enough to stop the smirk from spreading across Kiril's expression. “Oof. Weren't we looking for something worthwhile?” In the past few months, Kiril had seen and heard reports about the mystriders from behind the doors of various Zanaryan councils. To have the real creature in front his reach was quite refreshing.

With barely muted enthusiasm, Kiril unlinked his arm from the Aide's and strode toward the dragon. Recognizing its terror, he extended his consciousness with soothing thoughts. “Hey, don't worry about us. Want to quiet down a little?” As a zanaryan, he couldn't have accomplished anything like this without Xanth's blood in his veins. Even with Xanth's blessing, it had taken decades for him to learn even the mental handshake. He'd been trained by Sylope, who was vague and fickle at best.

“The mystriders have been trading in our ports for potions, herbs...stuff...” he spoke neutrally to Dazadi, though his focus remained on the still-nervous mystdragon. The dragon stll projected flashes of colors, but it had ceased with the shrieking. Its mind was only slightly smarter than a well-trained dashiri's, and that was both a relief and disappointment to Kiril. He had hoped for better conversation with an Acanthan. Fortunately, this also meant that mystriders didn't have real dragons. He wondered though if mystriders could connect equally with the dragons of Nirim.

[Dazadi]

Daz was so busy looking around and grumbling that she didn't realise Kiril was wandering off at first. Not knowing what he planned, she startled forward to keep the cloak around them both, eyeing him askance when they drew up side by side far too close to the dragon for her liking. “Right, yes. I can see how that would be alarming. Stuff.” She pursed her lips together to bite back a smirk, still watching the mystdragon with too much suspicion - or maybe just enough. She remembered all too well the shenanigans Kade had pulled with his dragons and that rat was supposed to be all wise and responsible. No telling what would happen around these things when, from what she could gather from reports and second-hand stories, they were barely even sentient. Intelligent enough to be trained and respond to threats and all that jazz, but entirely co-dependent on their riders.

Daz tilted her head to look at the creature, caught in that in-between place where fascination tangled up with the mother of all sneers. Paranoia rode hot on the tail of curiosity, post-Kade bitterness chewing up whatever positive feelings she might have had about the dragons and spitting it out in a goopy mess. “Don't tell me you brought me here to whisper at dragons, ugh.” She looked around. The sky was streaked with early morning golds and pinks and violets. Clouds bubbled on the horizon. Early birds were straggling in, headed for their boats.

“Actually... What the heck is this thing even doing here? I seriously doubt there are any herbalists or healers or wildcrafters out at the crack of dawn, and sure as heck not on the docks.” She yawned to underscore her point. It had still been night-time at the palace - early hours of the morning, really, but who was counting? - and she'd been lamenting the length of the meeting, that an early evening council session could so easily lag into the dark. It was one of the reasons she'd been so ready to show Alexis what his insides looked like, his dreary voice droning on and on well beyond what Dazadi could have endured before her sort-of rehabilitation. “And where the heck is its rider?”