#au overflowber

Emmet paused in the middle of an ornately caved wooden bridge, one of the many that connected the various buildings of the place he now called home, lifting a hand to greet the small, pure white swablu that landed on the hand rail. It had been quite a shock the first time he saw one; Emmet hadn't even known they could be any colors other than blue or the rare golden ones. But there were easily at least ten pure white swablu that called the clouds that crowned the mountain tops here home. And, he'd learned, they had a very important mission. They delivered delicate scrolls written in shimmering ink, swirling script expressing the wishes of the people that were under his care.

He supposed that was the only part of the ritual that had gotten it somewhat right. Unexpectedly, he'd been given the ability to fulfill some wishes, instead of merely carrying them to the Black Dragon.

And that was just it, he thought. The ritual had made him believe he was to be consumed, an unwilling and powerless participant who'd been offered as a sacrifice for the prosperity of others. But instead, he was being given a great duty. Yes, he'd been told that he should be proud, that he was being bestowed a great honor. But an honor and a duty were two different things - he could be in control of his duty. His duty could *be* an honor.

After he accepted the scroll, the swablu fluttered off to go about whatever business it had. Emmet was sure they did things other than simply deliver him scrolls. Though, he did wonder if they were writing the wishes down? Or perhaps the words appeared magically, and the swablu were simply tasked to bring them to Emmet. Either way, he tucked the missive into the large flowing sleeve of his hanfu.

When he'd been sent up here, the clothing had felt almost stifling, hiding him behind glitter and sparkling jewels. He felt overwhelmed with all the layers of clothing, unable to feel comfortable in his movements, and with the ever present urge to hike up his sleeves or shrug the upper part of the garment off in its entirety. But the outfits he wore on a daily basis were somehow the complete opposite of that. Sure, the sleeves were long and flowy, and he could definitely feel the layers, but it was like night and day. Perhaps it was because the clothing was made for him in mind, instead of a broad sweeping idea of what would make a good bride.

Actually, for being the Bride, he'd seen suspiciously little of the Dragon in the few months he'd been here. He expected to be eaten right away, or absorbed some other way, or even struck down with unimaginable powers. Instead, he'd been greeted, swept off his feet by the reserved and somewhat mysterious man who called himself the dragon, and then mostly left to his studies.

Yes, studies! Endless scrolls of poetry from scholars long forgotten by humans, manuals by esteemed generals, even a few songs composed by some king he'd never heard of from a prosperous kingdom he had. There were other people who lived in these buildings up in the clouds, but they felt more akin to tutors and attendants than deities like the Dragon. They didn't speak to him much, except for the lessons they were teaching him, and did not linger once those lessons were finished for the day.

Only one bothered to chat with him, a young man whose eyes were covered by a very nearly sheer cloth, but he never told Emmet his name. The little bit of conversation that Emmet was afforded mostly focused on how excited the others here were that he was 'finally here'. It created more questions than it answered, but Emmet supposed he was happy that people were glad he was there?

"Happy, huh?" Emmet thought out loud as he continued crossing the bridge. Faint pink gathered on his cheeks as he thought about the last time he'd run into the Dragon. Well, he kept calling him The Dragon, but in reality he'd been given his name: Nobori. Anyway, the last time he met with Nobori, the man draped in entirely black and silver had called him "my beloved."

That sort of thing shouldn't have effected Emmet at all! It was the sort of thing that girls in his village gossiped and giggled over, dreaming of a noble that would come and sweep them away to a life of glamor. Or the young men that sighed and waxed poetic about elegant wives that they would sweet talk every day. But Emmet had never felt that strange fluttering in his stomach when he overheard the others in his village talking about it. Why now?

It was probably the fond warmth in Nobori's expression and voice when he said it.

Even thinking of it now made him flustered and nervous, and that was with barely seeing him. Supposedly, once Emmet finished his studies to a satisfactory level, he would begin to learn 'special' things from Nobori. Absolutely no context clues had been given, as he'd been told such a thing from one of the more expressionless attendants here. If the one person who spoke to him was any indication, though, the others might open up more if he proved himself to be worthy of their time and attention.

Which, frankly speaking, was okay with Emmet. He wanted to stand on his own, and show them that he could be trusted with this duty. Whatever it might entail, that is. He only knew of being entrusted with the wishes of the people, but even if there was more than that! He would serve his duty with his full abilities, and be proud of the job he was doing.