“You aren’t bad for a human you know. You must practice a lot,” Noctis opined, suddenly from a tree branch overlooking Pelna.

He’d taken an owl’s shape to explore along the edge of the forest, but he took his own again, barefoot, in black and gold, The Forest Prince, all his embroidery in owl feather patterns and leaves.

He’d been bored. He was always bored lately. But then he’d seen the human dance and…and he was actually very pretty, in the way he moved, in all of it.

Pelna jumped slightly at the sound of the voice, turning to face it. He’d had no idea that someone was there. Farthermore, he wasn’t sure how the young man had gotten up there without him noticing. 

He sat on a branch up above him. A man around his own age, maybe a little older, with longish dark hair and facial hair, wearing clothes that looked strangely elaborate and decorated. Pelna frowned, taking in his appearance for a moment. 

Angeal watched the other man, brow furrowed, his eyes filled with old fire as he regarded the younger man approaching him slowly.

And at his actual question, the god of the underworld’s brow arched. “You ask to bring the dead back with you, then. There is always a cost, young healer,” he said, voice steady as he slowly stood from his throne.

Striding forward till he stood over Pelna, he looked over him carefully. “What is so important, about this man’s life, that you come here?” he asked curiously. “Why would you risk it?”

Bring the dead back with him? He hadn’t considered it like that before, but it did make a good deal of sense. Pelna considered it for a moment, but his thoughts were cut short when the King of the dead stood from his throne and came toward him. Pelna didn’t move, simply looking up at the older god as he came to loom over him. Angeal was even more intimidating up close, handsome but cold as well. Like a marble statue. 

Angeal felt within instants, sometimes before it happened, when another divine presence infringed on his realm. He could even sense the nature of their powers and portfolio, usually.

The one who stood at his gates now was….

Well.

The gates of the underworld slowly creaked open, but didn’t reveal any road. No. They opened directly, at his will, into his vast receiving hall. Where he sat on a great obsidian seat.

“Not many healers dare to come here. We are not opposed young one. All things die. All things live.  Why do you come here?” the great god asked, voice reverberating curiously down the stone hall.

That was quite dramatic. 

Pelna hadn’t been expecting the gates to open right to the god’s throne room. It was an intimidating one, too. All dark, gleaming stone and large, open space. He turned his eyes toward the man at the end of the hall, looking at the older god somewhat cautiously. Angeal certainly made an intimidating figure, sitting there. He was a large man, with dark hair and fair skin. Fitting for such a large man, his voice was deep as it echoed through the hall to him. 

When a demigod was struck down with an illness, it was only natural to go to the greatest of healers. The son of the patron deity of doctors, and a minor god of healers and herbalists, Pelna seemed the most appropriate choice. He took pride in it, too, his ability to use plants that he grew and tended to aid others. There was only a minor problem - perhaps slightly more than minor. Once he had determined what the illness was, he was able to determine that he had all the ingredients he needed except one, and that plant had been extinct for many years. 

As the demigod’s life began to dwindle, he was reminded of one thing - Angeal, the god of death, was rumored to have a private garden where he kept many types of plants that had vanished from the surface world. If he had the flowers that Pelna needed, there was a possibility that he could still save his patient. 

“Their loss, you have quite a beautiful voice,” Regis said, smiling at the naga, looking around the small enclosure. “We’ll get you situated somewhere much better than this for your room. I have a place moderately prepared, but I’ll make sure you’re comfortable. And I don’t plan on keeping you so…”

He stared at the pen, lips thin.

“Confined. Would it be rude of me to ask your name?” he asked, as he stepped forward, fearless and confident and sure as he opened the enclosure and stepped back, his hands folded behind him.

He cocked his head to the side slightly, looking up at the other man and slowly uncurling himself to sit up a little straighter. “I appreciate it.” A larger space would be much nicer. Somewhere with enough space for him, it was so cramped where he was now, his tail had no room to uncoil. 

“I’ll be buying him, you can go collect the paperwork, now,” Regis said, in his most kingly manner, dripping with authority and a hint of dismissal; a tone stolen straight from his father.

As the man speaking started, Regis just quirked his brow, waiting for him to leave, before turning back to the naga, brow furrowed. “Well that man’s particularly boorish, isn’t he?  Though your scales are remarkably pretty. You speak Lucian,” he said gently, gesturing to the nagas face. “It shows here. Your reactions. Though I understand if you want to pretend you don’t.”

Pelna looked a little interested when the man spoke, asserting very firmly that he was going to be buying him, even as the salesman faltered, opened his mouth to say something, and then went silent as the man gave him a hard look. He hurried off to get the paperwork, leaving Pelna and the other man alone. 

    “Yeah.” Gladio had been in the jungle forever now. Okay, it wasn’t forever, but it had been a few hours. He had no damn clue where he was going. “I think I’ve just been going in circles here.”

Axis was–

Not afraid, not precisely.

Nervous.

Nervous was the right term.

He wasn’t used to terrain like this. He was a farmer, for Titan’s sake! He didn’t belong here, in this dense jungle that could be hiding just about–

Snake.

Big snake.

Shit.

Whoever they were, he heard them stop, though they weren’t in his line of sight. Either they’d gotten distracted or something else. he wondered if they’d caught sight of his tail, the tip of it wiggling lazily as he sunned himself. 

Pelna pushed himself up with his hands, turning a little bit and shifting down from his spot until he caught sight of the man just standing there. 

He’s one of the few glaives who doesn’t own a TV. What he does have is an old second hand desktop that he spends what little extra money and time he has upgrading it by scavenging parts from various electronic repair shops. 

Pelna had been dancing since he was young. His mother had been trained in ballet and more contemporary dancing. When she retired, she be taught classes in the small village they moved to shortly after he was born. His father was a doctor, and he didn’t often have time to take care of a child, so Pelna practically grew up in the dance studio. So maybe it was natural for him to begin dancing, too. 

He liked to practice outside. It was just nice, the fresh air, the warm sun, the grass under his feet. It was something he’d done ever since he was a kid. His mother used to laugh and ask him if he was dancing for fairies. 

“Please note the unique coloring on the subject’s scales.”

“Even if you’ve got full permission not to be? Come on, let a little of that gentleman act down. Don’t you wanna give me a confidence boost, make sure I’m feeling nice and sexy before I go on?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes and smirking at Pelna.

“And the tips are pretty good. This place isn’t so bad, all around. Good coworkers too. Except for Nyx,” she snorted as she said the last.