but a day shall rise

[septim]

WHO: Martin Septim and Khisanth
WHERE: Some bakery–café.
WHEN: Memorial Day
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: From worshiping a dragon to taking a dragon out for lunch; Martin's moving up in the world.
FORMAT: Prose, then quicklog.

Martin hadn't ordered his food yet, one part politeness and one part cluelessness. Half of the dishes in the menu were unpronounceable, though the various breadstuffs—baguettes, bagels, croissants, muffins—reminded the ex-emperor of Cyrodiil's cultural fixation with wheat products enough that he felt safe ordering whatever. The soups and salads sounded (and looked) innocuous enough.

Inside isn't as noisy as the patio. Martin picks a booth, perpendicular to the counter, keeping an eye out for Khisanth, a dragon. A bit hard to swallow, still, but she looked human enough. No chances of eating the patrons inside this restaurant, cooked slightly crispy.

Of course, everything Martin knows about dragons (enough, perhaps not as much as he should as a dragonborn) makes him cautious about this meeting. Dragons are powerful, prideful creatures, which is refusing this meeting is out of the question.

At least the iced water calms his nerves. And it's free.

Comments

[onblackwings]

[ She's late, because she always is. Humans always do obsess too much over time, and Khisanth prefers tracking the sun to glancing at watch faces. And besides that, her time is valuable. What if she showed up and the one she was meeting wasn't there yet? She'd be very annoyed if she had to wait.

But today is a little better than others, and it's only ten minutes past the appointed time when she strides in, tall, dark, golden-eyed, and dressed far too nicely for a place as casual as this one. She sweeps a glance around the interior, then spots him and heads for his table. The smile doesn't appear until she's sliding into the seat across from him, and then it's just slightly more smug than a smile of greeting usually is.

It can't be helped, though. Free food always makes her feel at least a little smug. ]

Hello, again. Martin, wasn't it?

[septim]

[ Martin half-chokes on his water, startled by her sudden appearance. Regaining composure takes a couple of seconds, embarrassment tugging at the corners of his mouth. ] Yes, I'm Martin. It's nice to meet you, Khisanth. [ Dragon. She looks like a dragon, her eyes burning the color of amber, dark-skinned, carrying herself with the poise and pride of Akatosh' progeny.

In comparison, he looks mundane and mortal, frayed cassock still not tossed despite Jaime Lannister's generous contribution (more like cheating the economic system, screams his conscience) ] I'll confess, I'm not familiar with this restaurant's menu or if it's suitable at all.

[onblackwings]

It's not. [ That, with an unamused glance toward the menues listed above the counters. ] They don't even have a real menu here.

[ But she stands again, with a sigh, and glances down at Martin. It looks very natural on her, looking down at people. ]

Come on, you owe me a meal, low quality or not.

[septim]

[ If Martin didn't know she was a dragon, her attitude would chafe him. Yet, instinctively, he knows this isn't his fault but rather her nature, so he can't be offended, even if he tries.

Too used to eating whatever he's served, Martin takes a bit to decide what he wants, more concerned about her finding something she'll like. So he just settles for a soup that comes inside a hollowed-out, round loaf of bread (ingenious!) and a small salad. Nobleborn but not noble-raised, he still eats like a peasant.

And so they return to their booth, because the meal will be brought to them. Not so different from Tamriel, after all. ] As fascinated as I am in the gods of this realm, I think I'd like to know more about the dragons in your realm.

If you don't mind, of course.

[onblackwings]

[ Nothing had looked too appetizing, but certainly better than her occasional forays for McDonald's when she gets tired of eating muskrats in her swamp. So, complaints or not, she'll be pleased enough when her sandwich shows up.

And her smile, as she slides back into the booth, says that that was definitely a good question to ask. Khisanth does love talking about herself. ]

I don't mind. But I'll need somewhere to start, obviously. Give me a summary of the dragons you're used to.

[septim]

[ Unlike Martin, who detests talking about himself, unwilling to fall into the self-indulgence and self-absorption that taints his youth. ] Extinct, not seen since the days of the Dragon Wars.

They were prideful beings, created in the image of Akatosh himself, so they were worshiped as gods. Dragons being dragons, they embraced their role as god-kings.

For dragons, power is truth. [ Something Martin believed himself, once. ] They had power, therefore their superiority over every other creature is true.

[onblackwings]

[ Yep, sounds about right, substituting "Akatosh" for "Takhisis" (or maybe for "Paladine" but let's not talk about that nerd). She nods, seeing pretty much nothing amiss with any of this, and sits up a little straighter. From the casual lean to the prideful, regal recline. ]

We're not dissimilar, then. [ A beat. ] What about different kinds of dragons?

[septim]

[ Martin chuckles at that, not derisively, of course. He wants to keep his head. ] None that I know of, unless you count the 'dragonborn' as a different kind of dragon. [ He takes the opportunity to take a sip of water. ] Those with the body of a human and the soul of a dragon. Or so goes the legend.

[onblackwings]

[ Whoa, hello. Indolence sharpens into interest, and she looks at him a little closer. ]

Dragonborn? Tell me about them.

[septim]

[ That closer look makes Martin uncomfortable, subconsciously shifting a bit farther in his seat. ] Akatosh himself blesses the dragonborn, granting them the soul and blood of dragons. They are the only ones able to innately learn the language of dragons and absorb their souls. They are rare, and there's been only three dragonborn: St. Alessia, Reman Cyrodiil and Tiber...Septim.

[onblackwings]

[ Absorb their souls? That part is a little weird, but she can dig the rest. That last name snags her attention all over again though, and her eyes narrow. ]

A relative of yours?

[septim]

Yes, he was— [ A waitress saves Martin from speaking, delivering their food. Martin offers a small prayer to Akatosh in his mind, given more time to think as to how he's going to phrase 'the founder of a dynasty and a god' without sounding as if he's bragging about his family history.

After a couple of small bites, which confirm that yes, everything is edible and even better, delicious, Martin picks up where he left off. ] Tiber Septim was the founder of the Third Empire. [ So much for not sounding like a self-aggrandizing twit. ]

[onblackwings]

[ She eyes him just a few seconds longer, but... the history of his world doesn't interest her, as long as it stays in his world. So after a while she glances away again, down to her food, and plucks up a chip. ]

We don't have anything like that in my world. It's only dragons, mortals, and— [ She makes a face. ] Draconians. You can thank the mages for those abominations, I'd heard.

[septim]

Not a fan of draconians, I take it? [ Or mages. Why does everyone dislike mages? Martin tears his bread into little pieces, transferring his anguish at mage prejudice into his fastidious manner of eating. ] What are they?

[onblackwings]

Creatures hatched from corrupted eggs of the metallic dragons. Disgusting, but they make good shock troops.

[ She waves a hand, dismissive, and takes a second to enjoy her hard-won (ha) sandwich. ]

But nevermind them, you asked about dragons. There are ten kinds on Krynn, which seems to be unique to my world. Other dragons I've met here might vary in color, but aren't entirely separate kinds from one another. Of course, the only dragons worth mentioning are the chromatics. [ Totally unconcerned, matter of fact, nevermind that she's never actually met a metallic dragon from her world, and this is all hear-say. ] The metallics are absolutely insufferable. I can only hope none of them are ever inflicted on the City.

[septim]

[ Martin senses a pattern of strong dislike for metallic dragons. His curiosity nearly gets the best of him, but Khisanth's dismissive handwave drive away his question. ] So dragon caste is based on color. And the metallic dragons are...insufferable. [ Martin is the type to take people at their word. Yet Martin senses a deep bias here, so he won't pass judgment on the metallics just yet. ] You're the second dragon I've met. I didn't live to tell the tale after meeting the first one.

[onblackwings]

[ That gets a smile, and she doesn't look particularly upset or concerned that she's talking to a dead man. ]

You're very talkative, for a corpse. [ Yes, that's totally her version of a joke. She thinks it's hilarious, okay. She even looks appropriately amused! ] Mm, but that tends to be the way of encounters between humans and dragons in my world, too. You're lucky the Porter takes sigh an easy view of death.