#dunemaw

My head still aches from being bounced off that central pedestal, so this accounting shall be brief.

Tonight we held the June edition of the Dominion Fighter's Circle Tournament, at my own arena specially constructed for the event!  Of course we have a popular ice arena at Sub-Zero, so what better compliment than fire?  (Some complained that the building an arena atop a volcano was dangerous, even mad.  These whiners are obviously weaklings who could benefit from a little more fire in their lives.)

The roster tonight was shorter than usual but the matches were no less intense.  Later rounds saw a chua's arm stripped to its mechanical components, and a draken stabbed with his own, broken, red-hot blade. I again lost to the chua Grighemorrwess Fozz.  However this chua again took the championship, so I have no shame.  I must train for the next event, however.  The little creature is brave and clever, but he cannot be afforded a three-peat victory.

There were many draken in attendance tonight, including a good number whom I do not know, or do not know well.  The Dreadtalon Tribe may see its numbers growing in days to come.  This would be a welcome thing indeed.

Once Jess had giggled himself to sleep and I had reassured myself that he was and would remain stable for the time being, I extricated myself from his grasp and gave myself ten minutes to dash home and gather supplies before returning to spend the night. I made it in nine minutes and thirty-four seconds; his heartrate was still steady on my return, and and by all appearances he did not wake while I was gone. He did stir groggily when I hooked him up to the monitor; I soothed him as I could, but as he continued to mistake me for a rowsdower plushie in his altered state I finally gave in and curled up to let him cuddle me as he fell asleep again. I too fell asleep in this manner for a time, the low and steady beep of the monitor being far more relaxing than I might have found it in other circumstances.

Once I awoke, however, all my worries returned. I have been up for several hours now at his desk with my books and datachron and the biochemist’s vials and my own meager reagents and far more questions than answers.

I am so angry at him. Why would he not tell me? Why would he keep this from me? Did he think it not important? Did he think it would change how I treated him? Secrets are one thing; a glimpse of steel, a curious scar… these are details I enjoy puzzling out on my own and stories I do not mind saving until the time is right. But this – did he think I would keep him from fighting? Does he not know who I am? A draken who cannot fight might as well lay down and die. But I might have acted faster to keep the xenobiologist from shoving whatever random capsules she could find down his throat when she obviously had not bothered to fully examine his current condition, much less educate herself on any pre-existing condition.

I did not lie to the Cassian bitch. If he dies, if he suffers in the least for the reckless acts of “medicine” she has inflicted upon him I will take her heart. After I shove her supposed medical license down her throat, frame and all, like the candied cereal which obviously shared the box it came in.

Thank the gods for Zyrah. She is truly a sister in Werza, and her aid, both practical and ephemeral, has been invaluable.

Who am I to him, she asked. His lover, I replied… which is technically true, though it seems as inaccurate as any other answer. But I needed to know, and she could not tell his friend. He has no family of which I am aware; one of his three mates is a blithering incompetent and five gods know where she or the other two are. It makes me so furious – they should be caring for him, not me! Make no mistake – I care deeply for Jess, and I am glad to shoulder this burden. It is an honor to sit vigil for him and I am thankful I was there. But a warrior with three mates should not be so alone, and it angers me to no end that he is. Last night he had no one but me, and possibly Ejava, and that is just wrong.

Perhaps that is why he did not tell me. Just because I was the only one to hear did not mean I had the right to know. He is not my mate – nor is he likely to ever be, despite his prowess.

Was he ashamed? He has no need to be – not with me. Never with me.

But he had no way to know that, did he?

…

I suppose this is how you use camouflage here in Illium.

Now.

Darlings. 

It's time for a story: a true and recent tale of cunning and glory! 

My glory. My cunning. My story. 

It begins in Celestion! Some floofy Exile ham held their own funeral (with tea!) and I showed up to make sure things went off without a hitch.

 I crept in the midst of them...

And destroyed them to the last! 

High on the blood of many foes it was on to the Exile home heap: THAYD!