On Your Mind ~ PPAU Quest

    Though trees throughout Isle Mezzo had started turning crisp and golden, summer still had its claws in a death grip over the skies. Humidity and heat had hung in the air all September, and the last of it had stirred into rolling black clouds and howling winds, ripping leaves and twigs off of trees. 

    If summer didn’t get to have Mezzo, nobody did.

    Plover, being sensible, had booked it indoors long before the skies had gone green. 

    They weren’t getting caught out in a derecho. Again. 

    But that left the problem of what to do. ‘Because Plover hadn’t ducked into the dorms or even the university. No, they were standing in the lobby of the offensively gothic Whisperling Spire. The black marble walls and cathedral ceilings echoed with the distant roar of thunder, leaving tiny Plover in the middle of the storm.

    So much for not being stereotypically evil. Great job fostering a welcoming environment, guys. There wasn’t another dragon in sight, but Plover felt like a bug pinned under a magnifying glass. 

    Someone was watching; they could tell.

    “‘Least they could do is be sociable,” Plover muttered as they resettled their wings on their aching back. “They don’t even have any couches down here.”

    “Unfortunately, while I share your stance on decorum, my colleagues believe it would ‘mess with the aesthetics.’”

    Plover blinked in surprise, turning back towards the entryway to meet Wolfchaser’s patient gaze. The older dragon had her drenched cloak draped over one shoulder, steadily creating a puddle of rainwater at her feet. But Wolfchaser mainly seemed unbothered as she looked Plover over.

    “Did you know you have a growing reputation as one of the most unflappable students,” she said while wringing out the worst of water.

    Plover snorted. “Yeah, that happens when you’re best friends with the resident hauntings. None of you could live up to Avista if you tried.”

    “True. It’s nice to see Avista making friends once more.”

    “Speaking of— is she here? I’d like to visit her if I could.”

    “Apologizes, I couldn’t tell you that. Avista’s one hard dragon to track,” Wolfchaser hummed as she strolled past Plover and further into the spire. “Still, come along, you won’t find her down here, and either way, I hear you make a good cup of tea.”

    Plover blinked again, once, twice, before following Wolfchaser up the winding stairs. They hoped the whisperling spire proper would be more comfortable. 

    It wasn’t.

    “You know,” Plover clicked their tongue as they looked around the living room— if you could even call it that, given the lack of comfortable couches, usable tables, or anything not covered in black velvet or crystal. “I’m one of your order’s vocal supporters, but I’m starting to understand why others believe you drink misbehaving children’s blood for breakfast.

    “Because what in the hell is this?” 

    Wolfchaser huffed. “Oh, come now, it’s not that bad!”

    “There is nothing on your coffee table but a bottle of unlabeled red wine. If you can call that a coffee table!” Plover hissed, waving their claws at the atrociously impractical decore. “And where are you supposed to sit?! And don’t tell me those ‘couches.’ Their legs are spindly enough that I think they’ll crack if I touch them. But, of course, that’s if a single brush doesn’t permanently stain that horrifically edgy fabric.

    “Do you all sleep hanging from the ceiling? Do you lean into the stereotypes that much? Because I see no other option here.”

    “My word, are you planning on gracing us all with a career in interior design?” Wolfchaser laughed, raising a hand to her chest in faux shock. “If so, I have a few clients I’d love to point you towards.” 

    “No, I don’t know if I will be because I don’t know what to do with my career. I thought joining the alliance would guide me, but now my mentor is in the hospital. I don’t know if she’ll ever return to work, and I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if she doesn’t. 

    “I’m terrified because I feel like I’m facing the end of the world alone. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

    The spire went silent. 

    Wolfchaser stared. 

    Now, Plover loved the quiet. But the silence was different. The first was an ambiance you could hide in, providing safety. But the silence was a spotlight.

    Plover squirmed under its gaze. “I’m sorry—”

    “None of that. I’m making tea,” Wolfchaser interrupted by lifting her claws and turning towards the (overly goth and practically unusable) kitchen. The two sat in silence while Wolfchaser put the kettle over a fire, waited for it to boil, and let it steep. 

    Neither broke the stillness, enjoying the quiet until a cup of tea was in their claws.

    The warmth soothed the aches from the lightning scars running down their arms. It was the only comforting thing in this spire, with the gothic architecture increasing the storm’s volume, and Wolfchaser next to them was sending chills down their spine. 

    Although, the company was pleasant. Cold and uncomfortable, but nice.

    “My apologies, I knew of your condition, but I didn’t watch my words. That is on me, not you,” Wolfchaser said, cutting off Plover’s attempted rebuttal with quick words. “Now, I find myself wondering what I could do to help you during these difficult days.”

    Plover snorted, clutching their cup closer to their chest. “Beyond time travel? My ‘ma will heal if she heals and return to work if she chooses.”

    If.

    ‘If she heals. ‘If she chooses to return.

    Those words rattled around their head, stirred by each rumble from the skies. 

    ‘If she doesn’t leave me alone. ‘If she doesn’t die from complications with secondary surgeries or infections. ‘If the world doesn’t burn down around me. 

    If—

    ‘If Wolfchaser didn’t curl her wing over Plover, the cold shocking them back into their tense body.

    “You’d be surprised. We live in quite magical times and on quite magical lands,” Wolfchaser said as she sipped from her cup, pulling Plover closer to herself. “You know, I couldn’t imagine any place more magical than the Ice Kingdom when I was a child. 

    “I remember the halls of our palace and the Gift of Light shimmering in the dark. I thought we were the luckiest kingdom. Then I came to Mezzo and lived in a marble castle crafted by magicians. My coworkers include ghosts, golems, and god-killers.”

    Plover blinked, staring down at their cup as Wolfchaser explained her life in the Ice Kingdom. As a Nightwing— well, now more likely a melanistic Icewing. But, despite that tribal shock, her words were intriguing. Perhaps because Plover only lived on Mezzo, it felt odd to think of someplace not as enchanted.

    But the rest of the world felt so unbearably dull beyond Mezzo and the Ice and Sea kingdoms. Plover couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

    “Magic spills from these lands, for better or worse. We live in quite magical times,” she finished and turned her inquisitive gaze towards Plover’s furrowed one.

    Plover sat there, letting the meaningless information wash over them before huffing, curling further over their warm cup. “And how’s that supposed to help me?” 

    Wolfchaser laughed at the sheer bluntness, rolling her eyes as her claws tapped her cup in thought. “Well, unless you’re planning on becoming an Illumote, I suppose it doesn’t. But it’s necessary to keep that in mind. ‘Many people have followed your progress since you arrived at the University: you’re a young, brilliant mind that the Alliance would be a fool not to recruit. 

    “But that is not our decision to make. Your talents could advance many fields, some of which the Alliance doesn’t provide. Either way, we don’t always control fate. So Hen may choose to return or not. You may decide to become an Alliancer, even without her guidance. 

    “There are many choices in your future. But know that whatever you choose, the Alliance is a road open to you and will support you for as long as you’re in our halls.”

    The two lapsed into silence once more, enjoying the quiet presence of the other. Plover let the last of the warmth seep into their claws as they curled against Wolfchaser.

    The weight of her wing over them was pleasant. Cold and uncomfortable, but nice.

    It felt like Hen’s full-winged hugs. 

    Plover sat there in silence before pressing themself close to the cold, grounding scales beside them.

    “Will you?” they whispered.

    Wolfchaser didn’t turn to look at them, just pulled her wing closer over the small dragonet.