An Unexpected Guest (Lucatiel of Mirrah)
|An Unexpected Guest (Lucatiel of Mirrah)|
|Date of Cutscene:||15 August 2015|
|Synopsis:||Since accepting a bid to dispatch a Najarala in Wyveria, Lucatiel has had an unexpected guest accompanying her on her journeys...|
|Cast of Characters:||Lucatiel of Mirrah (Dropped)|
She sat across from the bonfire and stared at the creature.
The creature stared at her.
A full day and night had passed, with the young snake wyvern following her. It slithered patiently after her every time she broke camp and continued her aimless journey.
It was a strange relationship. It seemed to adore her in spite of the circumstance; she had slain what she could only guess was its parent, and yet it followed her like a lovesick puppy, coiling protectively around or near her whenever she made camp. She had finally tossed it what was meant to be her dinner when he had turned those big, beseeching eyes on her, and it had devoured the half-cooked rabbit in a single swallow.
She had even been attacked in the night, once, and she had awoken to find the would-be thief trussed up in the Najarala's coils, struggling and babbling helplessly. The creature had simply watched the thief, as though fascinated by this curiously squirmy thing in its grip.
Eventually she had coaxed the creature to let the man go, perhaps a bit more chewed-on than he had stared, and he had staggered off mumbling curses.
Now, just before dawn, she sat in front of her bonfire and stared at the young Najarala before her, just as those big, bright orange eyes stared back at her.
"Well," she sighs, "I suppose I won't be rid of you any time soon."
The Najarala cooed and gurgled in its throat, a curiously bird-like sound; its rattle-scaled tail twitched once or twice.
"You really do look up to me, don't you?"
Another noise of adoration.
Lucatiel considered for a moment, rubbing at her jaw; eyeing her hat and mask by her pile of gear. At length she let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Fine. I suppose you can accompany me," she drawled, eyes sliding back to the bonfire. "For a little while."
When she looked up, it was to find the creature somewhat displaced, attempting to gum her hat into submission.
"...But you will not chew on that." Growling, she snatched her hat away, whacking the creature harmlessly on its beaked snout with the hard leather hat. "Stop that."
It looked up at her with such hurt, soulful eyes that she found herself sighing in exasperation again, reaching out and rubbing a hand along the hard line of its snout. It gurgled happily, nudging at her hand.
"I suppose this means I ought to call you something." Considering, Lucatiel watched as the creature withdrew from her touch, winding itself up just like an oversized serpent, tucking its nose amidst its rock-scaled coils; eyes sliding shut. "Very well, then. Camhir. It was the name of a powerful warrior of Mirrah. Not so powerful as my brother," she adds, with a half-smile, "but a powerful warrior all the same."
One bright-orange eye slid open, and the Najarala, no longer than she was tall, flicked its tongue. Whether in appreciation or apathy, she could hardly tell, but after a moment that eye slid shut again. After a moment, she let herself lie back on the hard ground, folding her arms behind her head and staring up at the crisp autumn sky.
"I suppose we can wait to set out," she murmurs, eyes sliding shut. "I'd best have words with Ysabel, though..."