FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 3

She wasn't the most proficient and graceful of runners, in fact she wasn't the most graceful of creatures in general. When it came to any sort of manual labor, even as simple and crude as walking, she wasn't the perfect material for some alien specie to take notes on. Even in panic and fear her body was programmed to avoid anything that might cause it harm, forcing her into a prance of a confused bunny during a run than an actual sprinter that knows her goal.

Who needs outsiders from a different plane of existence when the creatures inhibiting this world have troubles identifying and categorizing her with suitable words that would describe her physic. Even wild animals seemed to cock their heads in bewilderment whenever they saw her during any sort of physical activity, wondering most likely if seeing their brethren hunted and maimed is really the definition of cripple.

Sometimes when she was younger she wished she had no limbs at all, she would be more graceful, normal, when she would be a magical, hovering torso with a head.

At least then she would actually run from something without worrying about breaking her neck in the process.

No matter how terrible it might sound, she wanted to feel her unendingly flowing tears slapping against her cheeks, stretching from the corners of her eyes like swirling tongues of snakes, dragged by the splashing on her snout wind. She wanted to feel her dirty, tangled hair smacking against her nose over and over again as she bounced and sidestepped swiftly, avoiding any obstacle that might slow her down.

Most of all she wanted to feel like a dragon, a true dragon. Even a true dragon can be wounded however, whenever that happened those magnificent beasts spread their wings while at full speed during an escape and leaping strongly into the air with the confident force of a bolt shot from a ballista.

In her case however such a feat would end definitely in one of three ways. Either she would trip unable to keep her balance against the gust of wings striking her membranes, making her drop flat on the ground, or she would break her wings the moment she opened them, colliding with something that shouldn't be there like always.

There was also a third option, this assumed that she actually manages to take off the ground, due to her catastrophic balance in flight however, instead of in the clouds she would land into a tree trunk, burying her head and getting stuck like some overzealous woodpecker.

She was such an ugly, small creature that she couldn't even run away properly.

Her escapes always ended the same way, she got scared away, but every time she ran she was more worried about her own health than her actual pursuers. Knowing well that they cannot harm her as much as she can harm herself, she had done this so many times over already.

Sometimes she wondered what's the point of running, her pursuers will catch with her eventually, there is no escape from bullying, humiliation and torment.

This is the price she had to pay for abandoning her duties and leaving the temple.

Seeker always says that the eye of justice of the Ancestors will always locate the sinners and punish them accordingly.

This is her price, this is the Ancestors disappointment in her, this is the lesson they wanted to teach her. She willingly supported Sparx and then acquainted herself with Cynder, both of them she liked very much and judged them as honest characters even when most people see Cynder as embodiment of evil and Sparx as her slowly transforming thrall.

Willingly.

She judged.

She followed her heart.

When the Ancestors, with which the Seeker spoke and carried their will through his mouth, told her to be careful.

She didn't listen.

And so they made her pay by allowing her to be wounded by the one she called friend, a friend that is a close acquaintance with the two characters she so willingly supported.

Even if all her logical reasoning and her very soul told her that gods cannot wish harm on other people, a mortal being cannot speak with the divine.

She never considered the fact that the Ancestors might not have the privilege of choice as she does, very much aware that sacrifices need to be made.

The picture is definitely bigger than her, she would know all of that when she would do as the Seeker told her to. If she would do her duty.

"Coriza!"

Flare's shout had the force of a thunder, it literally exploded in her head, it was as painful as it was alleviating. She didn't expect him to run after her, not after what she had seen, for a brief second, when eyes had a short break in producing tears of humiliation, she was happy.

Then she remembered that Flare works in unpredictable ways and that she no longer wanted to feel the Ancestors whip on her back.

Everyone else at the sound of their pursuers getting close get that special motivation to speed up an already fast escape. Even if their hearts thudded in their chests as hard as hers did now they had that will, that determination to push them forward.

They had a chance.

She had none.

Instead of running away, she simply stopped, ankles already stinging with pain as they had to go through an exertion they were never used to, beating through grass and branches. She would be panting if sobs wouldn't wreck her throat, she would lick her mouth to somehow quench the thirst she felt, but was too afraid, she didn't want to feel the salty taste of her tears.

Her thighs hurt too, not only she put too much strength into her ankles, she also flexed her muscles on every pitiful stride she made to such degree that the muscles in her legs started pulsing as if they would be cocoons ready to burst new life into the world.

Every step wrapped in a powerful determination to maintain balance and not topple over, unconsciously knowing that consequences would be drastic. Not only her leg muscles hurt, but also her toes, claws on each paw sinking in the ground so harshly and deep that whenever she raised her legs it felt as if she was pulling them out of a thick mud.

She started to shake, the tension in the muscles finally shoving her off the podium, acquiring the mantle of leadership and scolding her for exertion that was beyond their strength.

Pulse after pulse of numbing energy shot along her legs.

It was a familiar sensation.

Impeding doom, there was no fighting it, it was pointless when she was young, it is pointless now. Bullies always have their way.

A familiar sensation of being a loser.

With a pitiful sob she lied down on the ground, pushing her paws together she curled into a ball, sticking her tail in between her hind legs. The gentle smack her moist, dirty mane made in her forehead forced a strong, wet and full of tears hiccup from her. The spasm was strong enough to drag a single snort from her nose.

Sobbing she wiped it off her snout, clearing her leg on the grass that seemed to be as wet as her tear filled eyes. The motion reminding what kind of miserable dragon she is, what sad, ugly representative of a proud race.

"Coriza!"

The shout again, she whimpered, legs curling tighter to her body, creating an uncomfortable pressure in her abdominal area.

Back to the same ridiculous position, a parody of a position you use when meeting bears. Pretend that you're dead and they leave you alone, when it came to bullies peace and forgetfulness never was taken under consideration. All you could hope for is for them to get bored before they hurt you too much.

Experience taught her that a sniveling, miserable prey is not an exciting victim, no matter how much you want to pick on her.

Disgusting.

Sometimes she wondered how she could look at herself in the mirror.

Sometimes she wondered if her hunger for beauty is not an insatiable hunt she will never complete.

A pursuit to find somewhere else the trait she can't find in herself.

The grace of a dragon.

"Coriza!" Flare shouted once more, his voice louder and more excited shout after shout, every blare bringing him closer to his friend

He didn't have to see her to know that.

He had no tracking skills, if she would be a fast runner with a pinch of cleverness she would be gone and he would have no means of locating her.

What he lacked in tracking he didn't lack in chase, he always caught up with his prey as long as he didn't lose its scent.

It was basically impossible to lose Coriza.

His nose was used to only a couple of smells like for example blood, death and decay. There were also those other, less popular odors like tears and fright, he was used too them also. Two last were enough to follow Coriza, in this place her fear stood out like a centipede among fly maggots.

He didn't have to rely on those usual scents, Coriza wasn't his prey, she was his friend, he couldn't follow those scents, it wouldn't be right. He ended up chasing after the now stale aroma of mandarins, she applied only a small pinch of that perfume and most likely for everyone else it would already fade away, especially after everything that happened moments ago.

He however wasn't so forgetful, he was still very new to this world, no, not _this_world.

He was new to the world in general.

The world was made of many dominating stuff and sensations, from smell to physical, real things. All of those were wonderful things, even if he became acquainted with some of them to a better degree than with some others, he simply couldn't imagine that he one day forgets or starts ignoring some of those feelings and material things the world is made of.

Even if he would, he wasn't worried about it, there was so much more to be excited about.

One thing he was certain of however right now and probably forever after, was the fact that he for sure won't forget about his inspirations as Cynder called herself, or anybody else with that special thing in them.

Coriza is an inspiration.

His legs were carrying him so quickly as if they would be surfing on the wind.

"Cor-" the shout died down inside Flare's throat when he finally saw her, she was way too special to be ignored

She was there, lying on the ground, her pose in every other circumstance would be cute and alluring, with the way she was curled she unconsciously rounded every rump muscle that make a female attractive.

He never saw a friend in such a position.

Never found inspiration in such a pose.

As exciting as it was he made no intention to explore this further.

The problem was that he felt nothing but a strange, sucking the life out of him void inside his chest when he looked at Coriza. He never felt anything like that before, it was as if he would be standing under a collapsing ceiling, holding it on shaking, outstretched paws until they would finally give away and all that massive weight would fall on the top of his head, burying him underneath a pile he would never dig his way through no matter how hard he would dull his claws.

Heart thudded inside his chest like a mad, locked in isolation prisoner in his cell.

He wanted to blame all of it on fear, this was the only sensation that ever made his heart speed up its pace, it was a familiar sensation, not nice, but at least he would know how to deal with it. Being someone's test subject and toy for basically your whole life teaches you how to deal with all those things that hurt you.

A life of a prisoner is a cruel one in the beginning and then becomes a very boring one till the very end. You learn that all those things that happen to you will happen to you again and again and again. Eventually you become indifferent to all of it, knowing all too well what will happen next and you simply accept it.

It teaches the roughest of discipline.

You never know when all the things you learned you are using against those that appear or are put on your way. It doesn't matter really, the people that show up on your path are just an another boring step in the journey to the night and the most welcome nap.

She reminded him of such an worthless obstacle.

Reminder was the only thing that was similar however.

She lied in the position typical for those females that were given to him as a prize, those females that were given to him in a completely devastated state to begin with and left even more of a wreck after their short, rough and forced mating sessions.

Even that relief became mundane after a while.

Just like the cries and begs of his prizes and opponents.

This was what the discipline commanded, you don't lose, because if you do you end up as a prize and That's only when you are lucky.

Usually you ended up dead, not from the claw of your enemy, but your own.

While he started out with a clean slate here in this place, there was one thing he will never forget, it was the stench of his cellmates, the same stench Brill emanated and sometimes even himself. Those that emanated this smell were either indifferent like him, or devastated like the prizes. What was certain however was that no matter on what side you were, you ended up dying anyway.

Or almost dying.

Like himself.

When he was so close to Coriza he could smell the same scent on her, faint one, easily masked or even overpowered by her natural smell, she didn't need perfume for that, even if they helped in emphasizing what is truly her true scent.

The stench was like a first stage of rot in a portion of meat that hit its expiration date, almost gone, but still to be saved if eaten fast enough. The only thing you would have to deal with was a slightly different smell, while disgusting for most, it didn't mean that the food is lost. All you need to do is to cook it and eat it.

After that you no longer remember if there was an expiration date to begin with.

For the first time in his life however he was no longer indifferent to that odor.

It was wrong.

Truly, really wrong.

He didn't really know what that meant, when you are a prisoner the border between right and wrong is really faded. In this current moment he understood however that this is not right, this is bad.

The smell is bad.

Her pose is bad.

He is bad.

She is his friend, this is not how a friend should look like. This is not the situation he should allow his friend to be in.

This is not what a friend should let happen to the one he cares about.

He realized what the void sucking at his guts was.

It was regret.

It was the first time he ever felt it.

Strange as it may sound, he really liked that feeling.

"Coriza?" he mumbled his voice drowned as if there would be a wet sock stuck in his throat, he made a step forward, but the paw instead of touching the ground froze in midair

Her soft sobs and jerking heaves of chest were heartbreaking.

And here he thought that there was no way of shattering something that was already destroyed.

He never knew that a clean slate could put your heart back together.

It was painful to see her like that.

Maybe this was another strange behavior, but he really liked that feeling for some reason.

That was basically everything he could make from this situation, minutes passed and he only battled with his thoughts, paw remained risen in the air, three other legs locked tightly in place, making him unconsciously sway like a leaf pulled gently by the wind.

For the very first time he didn't know what to do.

From all those things that happened, from all those weird, unexpected feelings, this was the thought that he definitely didn't like very much.

He didn't know how long he stood there, burying his gaze into her heaving body, listening to her whimpers and sobs. None of those for some reason wanted to disappear. He dealt with crying before, sooner or later it ended, no matter the situation.

This was perhaps the idea, the subconscious nudge towards familiarity, that will eventually push him into action.

Her sobs however just didn't want to stop.

His heart ached, so badly that the paw that was frozen in the air smacked into his chest, the impact making him cough roughly as it squeezed out every bit of stored air through his mouth.

The sudden, sharp sting he felt in the brain when his body was surprisingly cut off from one of its main sustenance ingredients brought him back to his senses. Trained survival instinct kicked in with the strength of a Keeper's step, he gasped for air, for a second everything was like always.

"Are you alright?" he proved that with this question, directing it at a sobbing, battered and curled like a beaten cat body of a dragoness

If Coriza heard him and if she found the question amusing was impossible to tell, she was too busy swallowing her own tears to give any obvious sign.

He bit his lip, the fire that surrounded his body died to unimaginable level, sparkling like a dying fire.

He felt sick, he didn't even realize that his mouth clenched tighter, the fang pressing against the soft surface of the lip pierced the fragile structure, pressing out blood from the recently created hole. Red drops began lazily flowing down his chin, gleaming like valuable rubies on his currently darkened red scales.

Never before a friend didn't answer him.

He didn't like silence, silence meant ignorance, he knew what that meant between friends, it was familiar. This was the time when indifference began its rule.

In this moment he realized something terrifying, it struck him like a sudden attack of an unhealable sickness, if he wouldn't feel so ill already he was sure he would spasm on the ground right now.

He was Diazen.

He had lost his friend.

Only because he let it happen.

His front legs gave away, the upper part of his body leaned forward, he dropped on his knees, he didn't even feel when his butt followed suit. He felt like an inflated toy from which all the air that supposed to keep it together wheezes away.

"I'm sorry"

Coriza opened her wet eyes, with a snort sucking back the line of drool that stretched from the corner of her mouth. With last one choking hiccup she quenched down the most recent sob, she didn't really understood why an apology stirred her so much.

Of all the things she expected Flare to say when he finally catches up with her was an apology, it was a typical reaction of a clueless child and Flare displayed behaviors that were suitable only for a hatchling most of the time.

The difference between the apology of a child and an adult was that when a young life says sorry it expects you, unconsciously or otherwise, to forgive it. It doesn't understand that something might end.

When it comes to adults, apology sometimes means goodbye.

This is what stirred her attention, the way Flare emphasized his regret. Putting aside the sound of his voice that lacked his typical, cheerful and youthful note, which was curious in its own way, she mostly focused on his tone.

It reminded her of those senior faithful that say they last goodbyes in the form of apology to the Ancestors, hoping that they will carry they regret, because they themselves cannot, or are not allowed to find forgiveness elsewhere.

She always found that extremely sad, Ancestors might be capable of many things, but they definitely don't interfere in the mortal, family matters. Such forgiveness must be sought on mortal soil, no divine being will substitute for the forgiveness of your loved ones.

Flare sounded exactly like that, like one of those defeated, desperate seniors. It caught her attention, because if there was one thing she didn't truly like from her cleric life, it was that depressing humility.

She found her explanation.

She gently rubbed her snout across her moist front paws, wiping away the tears. With a sigh she stretched out her legs to a relatively natural position and pushed herself up. A groan escaping her throat when numbing stings shot along her shaking paws, the muscles rumbling their protests, they weren't ready for another stress.

With a wince contracting her snout she shut her eyes tightly, clenching her teeth, fighting off the numbness that wanted to put her down on the ground again. She tried to dig her claws into the earth for better support but the moment she did that a burning sting exploded through her toes.

She whimpered through tightly sealed mouth, every force in the world trying to put her back on the ground, legs shaking so bad that someone might think she is just learning to walk after some serious accident.

She hated pain, she feared pain, physical one the most, it always reminded her of her sorry state, a dragon should be strong, should simply shrug off this discomfort. She couldn't do that, she had scales, but they seemed to be merely a skin of a chameleon, a very ugly chameleon that instead of blending with the surroundings, deforms itself to such a degree that even it can't stand the look of itself reflecting in a pool of water.

Sometimes she wondered if her coming to this world wasn't an accident.

One might think that if she lacks the typical, physical fortitude she would make up for it with rich character, even that however was disfigured like a brain after a heatstroke. She should be mad, furious, desiring revenge, not only she was humiliated, abused, but now the one that played a role in all of this is here.

As a proud dragon she should at least smack him, at worst simply walk away and leave him to his misery.

She couldn't do that.

Just like she never could approach those seniors throwing praying apologies to those in that moment unimportant and unworthy. Try to convince them that what they are doing is wrong, that they won't find any closure in the silent attention of the Ancestors.

Of course she had never done that.

When you are as frail as a dry leaf you avoid even the tiniest of risks that might actually bite you in the end.

Sometimes she wondered how someone can be such a big loser.

Even if she knew the exact reason behind the awakening of her interest, she wasn't entirely sure it was the sole nudge that was dictating her moves. It was mere curiosity perhaps, when you are bullied and know your oppressors, you expect already several different scenarios, none of them very nice to begin with.

What you don't expect is your bullies to unexpectedly stop and beg you for forgiveness with a tone of a depressed person.

This was her chance.

Why she turned around instead of running away will probably remain a mystery for the rest of her life.

A drop of stodgy mixture of saliva and tears that resisted swallowing popped from her mouth, rolling down her lower lip which second by second increased the gap between the upper one. It felt as if a beetle would be walking down her chin.

For a second she couldn't see Flare.

For a brief moment she felt sharp claws of dread thrusting into her spine, for a second she thought that she had cried out her retina, this was the only explanation that could justify the obvious oversight. There was no other way one can miss a boy that is practically a walking inferno.

What she didn't consider was the option of an invisible waterfall dropping on top of him and burying him under its weight.

Silly her.

Flare was on the ground, head low so that the yellow horns pointed at her, mouth drove into the ground as if he would be a special case of an anteater during a feast. The fire from which his body was made of was practically non-existent, the fiery, feathery protrusions on his legs were basically indistinct, looking like dropped petals of a withering flower. Only thin lines of fiery brush were visible, just like cuts of magma on a smothering volcanic rock.

The wings followed the same pattern, once big, magical and intimidating, now practically nonexistent, shrunk to the size of a sparkling match.

Without the lively, burning aura surrounding Flare, his entire body lost the sharp color, once bright red and orange scales were now dull and dark reminding her of a charred corpse found a week after it was burned.

The sight was terrifying.

She was spat on, threatened and molested and yet it was Flare that looked like he just left the torturer's dungeon.

Pain was one of those things that scared her beyond imagination, if the threat was serious and real it usually threw her into a fit of depressing panic. It wasn't on top of the list, there was something else that basically froze the blood in her veins.

Guilt.

She knew she wasn't sinless and totally pure, she had her little escapades not appropriate for someone of her age and personal standing, her own whims. They never made her feel responsible however, she tried to the best of her ability to keep her aberrations to herself, not letting anyone be discouraged or offended by them if by chance they find out, or she introduces those curious to them.

Call of duty always stood on the first place.

Her task as a cleric is to protect and support, causing someone else harm is one of the greatest sins she can commit. She had many flaws, there was actually one thing she found pretty in her and she didn't need cosmetics to flush that out.

It was her unfailing commitment to her duty, sway as she may between logic and religion, the center point of her balance always remained the same. There is enough unnecessary pain in the world as it is, she won't let it flourish if she can help it, she cannot.

Sometimes she wondered if this is called bravery.

Or simply another shade of fear.

"Flare" Coriza whispered softly

Flare's tail made a happy, short swing automatically, his shyly reappearing burning tip drafting a modest, fiery dash in the air as if it would be a painter's brush outlining the first line of his masterpiece.

Her deep, melodic voice was like a chorus of muses, when he was afraid he will never hear it again, there it was, filling his being with life like a deep gasp after a Keeper releases the clench on your throat.

He pulled his head up, the dim parts of his body flared up with nearly blinding flames, bursting with intense light like ignited oil. Dirty chest, disheveled hair, gleaming, bloodied eyes and wrinkles carved by tears, all of this should create a rather off-putting image of a homeless girl that most would twist in abhorrence at the mere thought of even touching her.

For him she was like a goddess, true and natural, not the imagined and perfect ones depicted on all those pretty statues. Being a prisoner and a toy really shapes the perspective, you have no troubles discerning reality from fiction, all those pretty, always clean, are those that never touched life, don't know that it can be harsh.

They would turn away from her.

He however couldn't, the most real girl with divine, gold eyes loomed over him, he realized at this moment that if there was ever a sight he would want to see when he opens his eyes after a beating or a session of torture, this would be it.

At this moment Coriza, even if dirty and unkempt, was more beautiful than Iris.

Most of that beauty came from being true.

He extended his paw, grabbing onto her soft leg, looking up at her, unconsciously checking if his friend was really there and was not leaving.

She didn't move.

He didn't notice the slight tremble in her leg, or her claws curling into the earth like hands clenching into a fist after eating something unpleasant and sour.

"I'm glad you're feeling better"

Not so long ago she was crying, obviously hurt and right now she was standing here and voicing her relief. It wasn't fake, it wasn't learned routine of her profession. She was really glad that he was feeling better, even if he was heartbroken with regret.

Who was the glass again?

"I must go to work Flare"

He sensed the plea in her voice, immediately releasing her leg, it trembled and claws relaxed with jolting, small motions. Heaving like a chest after releasing a held back sigh of relief.

The same way acted people that poked him with a stick, glad that he was unmoving.

This reminder cracked his heart into even smaller pieces, he didn't like stick poking, everyone that did it was afraid.

He didn't want his friends to be afraid of him.

"I didn't want to hurt you" he pleaded, looking directly into her eyes, giving out every ounce of honesty

This was an emergency, he was obliged to respond with the same amount of truth as she bestowed him with. That was the least he could do.

"I know. It is my fault, I trespassed into an unwelcome territory, I still fail to see that not everyone is as undecided as I am. I respect your choice Flare and understand it, no matter how hurtful this realization might have been for me"

He swallowed in terror, his fiery aura dimming once more.

Deep down he knew what the choice was.

He could feel the cage of thorns drawing first droplets of blood from his heart.

"W-W-What territory? W-W-What choice?"

Coriza touched her disheveled hair, her paw then moved to her neck and chest, running gently across the scales, scales and nothing else. Painfully reminding her of her crushed soul. Her claws becoming more and more nervous with each passing second she spent on looking at Flare, his sight constantly reminding her of her misjudged affection.

He didn't want to hurt her. She knew that.

Problem with Flare was that he has a high threshold for pain combined with cluelessness regarding not only himself, but those around him as well.

Add to that the obvious affection towards Iris, a destructive tornado of hateful chaos around which a naïve boy like Flare felt comfortable, to the point he ignored the obvious abuse the tornado served her, in fear of displeasing Iris.

He didn't suffer from the same unconscious reserve she did, he made a cognizant decision of not getting Iris in the way.

Thinking about it, just looking at him made her feel humiliated, embarrassed disappointed and betrayed, she wasn't mad however. She couldn't be, because in the end it was her decisions alone that made Flare act like he acted, if she wouldn't let this situation happen and follow the call of her faith as she is supposed to do, none of this would happen.

This was just another lesson the Ancestors presented to her, another cruel plea for her to listen to.

"Your essence is fire Flare" she finally said, never before speaking was so painful, every word bringing back the moment of dread about her very life, about being at the mercy of a blinded by pain dragoness

Alone.

Even if there was a boy she called friend right next to her.

"You thrive in chaotic, destructive environment, I wither. We are two sides of a coin, polar opposites of each other, I don't possess any traits a character like you find attractive. When it will come to taking a side, you will always choose the more comfortable one, it is natural reaction, unfortunately I'm too weak to bear through it, I'm too scared for my life, without protection I die. And Iris, the feminine embodiment of your comfort zone, doesn't like competition"

Flare stared at her with wide, horror filled eyes, the flames on his body started dying again. He didn't understand a word she was saying, all he felt was the thorns breaking through the soft layer surrounding his heart.

She could see the frightened confusion in his eyes, so very familiar confusion.

"You are dedicated, loyal, becoming insensitive in the end, and love, affection, Flare, always triumphs over friendship"

The cage of thorns finally snapped shut, crushing his heart inside. He could feel the blood being sucked from his veins.

All of the energy, the lively, temperamental energy that made his characters disappeared. Coriza gasped at the sight, even the eyes that radiated horror and pain became nothing else then empty gems.

The dragon in front of her became a callous creature, for a second a terrifying thought crossed her mind, a thought warning her that she just stepped on a trap and right now she is taking her last breath before it explodes and tears her to pieces.

"You don't like me anymore. I'm Diazen, a worm, betrayer. I'm like the rest of them, I've betrayed my friend" the voice that came out of his mouth was as empty as his eyes

She couldn't see his soul.

By the Ancestors.

He had no soul.

It was as if she would be looking into a burning fire in an oven, except this one wielded the shell of a young dragon.

"I betrayed you. Did I betray you?"

The empty eyes burrowed into her very soul, she was immediately assaulted by images of a psychopathic murderer waving a sharp knife in front of her eyes, toying with her, toying with the perspective of slicing her like a cake.

She felt that her own, very life depended on the next answer.

She valued honesty, but for the first time she hungered for a lie.

"Yes" she whimpered, closing her eyes, ready for the trap to explode below her "But it is my ignorance that forced you to do it. You don't understand pain as the rest of us do, it's the effect of your dedication. If you felt that Iris threatened my life you would interfere, I know you would. You want to protect and I sense you would sacrifice even love for that"

She couldn't lie, being true is her only line of defense and her only valuable trait.

She felt a paw on her shoulder, she squeaked, mouth wrinkled into a painful wince, this was the moment where she is being dismembered.

The touch however was soft and comforting.

She opened her eyes, surprised to see Flare's typical, cheerful snout looking straight at her.

Before she could collect her thoughts he pulled her into a tight, choking hug.

"Yes!" Flare exclaimed happily, he was back to his usual self, the metamorphosis was so quick that she wondered if the statue like coldness just a moment ago wasn't just a project of her wounded imagination

"I will protect you, I wouldn't let my friends die! I don't want to be alone again!"

He was like a child, to some degree it was adorable that a dragon of his age cherishes dedication so much that like a child he warps the meaning of words spoken by others and makes them his own. It was adorable to some degree because just like a child yelling the remembered teachings of his parents she knew he would remain true to his motivation.

It was adorable to some degree.

To a degree because she could see the murderer pushing finally away from her with a sweet smile, sharp knife emitting a blinding glimmer when it reflected the colors of the suddenly lightening up room, revealing a table full of food, closets full of robes and many other things her heart desired.

All of it for her.

Like a gift from a loved one on an anniversary.

As to prove that no one else is more important, no one else is more spoiled.

Not because there aren't any other dedicated friends and lovers out there.

It was because all those friends and lovers were right here with them in this room.

Their mangled, bloody corpses hanging below the ceiling, dangling from hooks.