-The Skies Above-

[Kour'el Kha'Serith]

The draconess was sick of the city already, having to keep her wings pulled in tightly to prevent them from brushing up against anything, buildings, furniture, or the most intolerable of all, the soft skins around her. Kour'el craved to be in the sky once more, to feel the cool air caress her scales, the only lover she had at the moment since her mate was dead and she hadn't returned to Vander for some time now. She would return to him eventually, just not yet, and she would likely leave him again as well.

The draconess guarded her heart carefully now, having lost it twice now to pain and grief. And while Vander was close to the center of her heart, she was not ready to give it fully to him, nor was she ready to settle down on the Hinterlands for the rest of her life. She was still young yet and wanted to explore, to see things. The small pleasures she did receive, her young one's faces, and flying were things she guarded jealously. The naïve draconess had become jaded in recent years, having everything taken from her at one point or another, she clung to what she had left fiercely.

Kind of like how she was clinging to the trunk of the largest oak tree around right now. The sun was only halfway above the horizon, making her climb even more treacherous than the snow, ice and cold was in the first place. However Kour'el, in true tomboy fashion, had been climbing trees almost as soon as she could walk. As such, she wasn't afraid of slipping or falling, since she knew her way around trees. The added grip her talons gave her secured her ability, instead of having those weird hands humans did, with their soft, stubby nails. Kour'el had often out climbed her foster brothers in the long run.

Why she was climbing the tree, when she was going flying was also easily answered. This early in the morning, particularly in winter, there were no thermals to ride, and every wing beat she took came with heavy labour. Her preferred method of flight, when she had the choice was to glide from thermal to thermal, spiraling up on the rising current of air and gliding down to the next air current with as few wing beats in between as possible. Such a flying style saved energy and the one thing a flying dracon needed was energy. Since the draconss hadn't seen any cliffs in the area, and the only place in Mystique to take off in the style she wished too was too climb the highest building and jump off, she had settled for a tree.

Almost at the top, in the place where branches turned dangerously thin and brittle for something for something of her size and weight, The draconess stopped and watched the sun rise a bit more, the warm golden light bathing the few scales showing and burnishing them into a lovely coppery green colour. Fearless, Kour'el walked towards the edge of the branch, where it began to dip down and creak with her weight, her wings unfurled slightly for balance. For a moment, she stayed there, poised silently over the brink, letting the anticipation build to it's peak before she darted forward, towards the void in front of her.

The plummet, the swoop and the pull of her wings catching the wind like sails. The draconess had fallen about three stories, almost back to the ground when she had unfurled the wings and swooped up, turning the speed of her fall into height. Now she was heading upwards, tilting her body in a new way that lead her up and away without moving her wings much. Feeling the wind and air slide over her exposed scales, Kour'el smiled and within seconds it had turned into bright laughter as she swooped upwards, looking for that stray breeze that would keep her aloft for most of the morning.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

Not too far from Kour’el’s position, a league or so to the southeast, a streak of fiery bright light was making its way across the horizon at a disjointed angle, a slight curve dictating the change in direction.

Erenthril Mael’tharias had been awake for…well, a few candlemarks now, and had gone about his business in the province as per the norm. Having half-heartedly dressed and groomed himself to be presentable, the Syl’rosyian Elflord was sporting a black wool cloak with an interior silk lacing, a water-repellant oil texture covering the outside. Beneath was a white linen shirt, loose fitting of course, but laced up the chest regardless and covering the blue sigil emblazoned upon his left breast. Slightly below was a dark burgundy belt that bound black pants and a complimentary set of dark matching boots, silver buckles glimmering faintly in the sun’s radiant light. Not that they could exactly glimmer in the bright surrounding nexus of energy he had enveloped himself in.

Eren tended to do things differently than other people. For instance, he was airborne. That was quite readily apparent. What was also obvious was the fact he was an Elf and…well, most Elves don’t fly. Save for the odd bunch who managed to reach the Empire from Trelore. But even then, the Elementalist evidentially did not have wings; he wasn’t looking for the thermal pockets or breezes that Kour’s senses were groping for blindly in the invisible spectrum of a maze of air current. No…Eren made his own.

Travelling quite fast and covering quite a bit of ground, the Elementalist was engulfed in a fiery stream of energy that rocketed him forwards, propulsion giving way to momentum as he tore through the air causing his own breeze high above the normal flying patterns of most animals. Content with his Masterpiece, Eren was making good progress through the air, the spell perfected for the optimum amount of speed versus control. It was a delicate little thing.

And yet all the while, without the slightest heed in the world, Eren’s thoughts consisted of only one thing:

It was a glorious brightening to be out and about.