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As it was, it seemed that the rain might never end. The dark clouds had crept up so suddenly on Say’ri, catching her out in the forest right in the heat of her training and it was clear to her—for as long as the deluge lasted—that there was no hope of returning to the castle without soaking herself to the bone. Even if the rain did, at some point, miraculously stop, she would have doubtless needed to suspend her training for the rest of the afternoon just to dry off.
She was glad, then, that Ena had been with her; that she’d insisted, ever since their intimacy during the New Year’s festival, on accompanying her wherever she went; and that, in a decision as generous as it was ingenious, the dragon had taken on her true form in order to shield her from the downpour, wrapping her tightly in her tail and letting one of her pink, leathery wings unfurl over her head like the roof of a tent.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen Ena in her true form – if ‘true’ was the appropriate turn of phrase for a laguz. She’d spent many a cold evening curled up against her scales, sinking into the warmth of her belly and feeling, through her fingertips, the gentle fire burning within. But all the same, the sight of it never failed to take her breath away: her fins like petals of the blossoming spring; her scales, glimmering like a thousand beautiful pearls; and her form, majestic as the mightiest beings in all Chon’sin’s myths and legends. As she’d related to Ena on many an occasion, her people were wont to find more beauty in modesty than extravagance – but she could still appreciate just how magnificent Ena was. Her people, after all, also had a respect for the old and weathered; and as Ena was, wreathed in all her splendour, one could also begin to comprehend the many hundreds of years she’d lived – and the countless trials she’d endured.
Even now, there were times when Say’ri could hardly believe that the creature shielding her from the rain—so powerful, so ancient, so magnificent—held such a deep affection for her. That she’d been blessed not only with the love of a kind, wonderful woman, but also with the love of a dragon.
In truth, she felt as though she was hardly deserving of such an honour. But then, a certain other dragon she’d always held in high esteem had told her, time and time again, that she was far too humble for her own good.
“This storm will not soon let up,” Ena observed, her great head peering up at the sky. Her voice had changed with her form, lower and heavier, but it still held a note of tenderness so unmistakably hers. “Are you cold, my love? Like this, I fear I can only do so much for you…”
“Nay, Ena,” Say’ri replied, nuzzling into her and running her hand down her scales – far softer to the touch than they appeared, in spite of everything they’d endured over the ages. “’Tis more than enough to have you here with me. Your presence brings me a greater comfort than I could ever put into words.”
Ena’s head drew down, curling inwards to gaze at her lover, and Say’ri felt the soft heat of her breath as the dragon nudged her with her snout. She seemed entirely unaffected by the rain pouring down on her, and she shone so brilliantly as the water ran down her scales and into the grass.
“I’m glad,” she said. “But if it grows too unpleasant…”
Say’ri chuckled, stroking at her jaw. “Have no fear, Ena. Should it come to that, I shall let you know at once. And I would full be at ease, too, if you were to do the same. ‘Twould not do to have you suffer this abominable weather overlong on my account.”
“On the contrary, it’s rather refreshing.” Ena’s lips curled upwards, and Say’ri realised, for the first time, how very peculiar a dragon looked when smiling. “Much of the time, Goldoa is intolerably dry. It’s only since I was summoned here that I’ve found the chance to properly enjoy the rain. To tell you the truth, I feel quite young again.”
Say’ri smiled back, kissing her snout, and then let her head come to rest against her body. In response, she felt Ena’s tail coil just a little more firmly around her, drawing her ever deeper into the comfort of their embrace.
For a moment, Say’ri let the silence settle between them; listened to the heavy patter of the rain against Ena’s wing, and to the deep, steady rhythm of Ena’s breath against her ear.
Then, when she was ready, she spoke again.
“I have had much to think upon.” Her words were barely a whisper, but Ena’s head rose all the same, sharply attentive. “Among other things… I have been pondering Lady Tiki’s reappearance.”
“I had noticed you seemed rather restless as you were training,” Ena said. “Is that why?”
“Aye. P’raps so.” Say’ri sighed. “Mistake me not – ‘tis wonderful to see her here, and to see her find such a like-minded companion in Lady Rhea. I only regret that she did not reveal herself sooner, is all. It sets me ill at ease to imagine her alone for so long.”
“There are many things which may give a dragon cause to retreat from the world,” Ena said. “Her reasons are her own… but I imagine every second of it was necessary to her.”
Ena was right, of course. As always. But even her wisdom couldn’t quite quell the reservations swimming through Say’ri’s mind.
“’Twould do me well, I think,” she said, “to hear those reasons for myself. Alas, I know neither the time nor the place to ask.”
Almost imperceptibly, Ena’s smile grew.
“Perhaps, my love, you need only speak to her over a cup of tea.”