Einheria is beginning to question just how far she will really go for the sake of money.

It isn't just some idle fascination, of course, not some baseless desire to accumulate wealth; for all of her draconic tendencies, hoarding Solars and other sparkling treasures hardly catches her interest as much as gathering stories, gathering books and scrolls and poetry to expand her knowledge of the world and its lore. No, her interest in finances lies solely with the fact that information does not come cheap, and even the softest-hearted adventurers know better than to give out valuable bits of detail for free, especially when it comes to rare and ancient treasures that all align with the interests of a particular witch.

And so, once again, she's grasping at whatever she can get, and this time, it's landed her in the scalding heat of the Zeinav Desert, beneath the blinding white sun, at the mouth of a vast and relentless crater.

Ordinarily, she'd leap at the chance for a job like this; investigating ruins, an ancient buried city, no less, sounds absolutely delightful, but as a frost dragon from the very heart of the Frost Gale, she's practically melting beneath this heat. Einheria's done her best to make proper amendments, her long white hair tied up in a high ponytail instead of its usual thick braid, her fur-lined clothing abandoned in favor of thinner, more weather-practical garb, her sheer white cape gathered around her as usual, but it still hardly feels like enough.

"Dear Father, forgive me," she whispers, a silent, weak prayer beneath her breath as she approaches the mouth of the crater, brushing sweat from her scale-lined cheek. "For if I perish here, melted like a glacier in this cruel sun, then I know not who may come to your rescue..."

Another tiny, weak whine escapes Einheria's lips as she studies the cavernous mouth of the area, hesitation settling in. Does she truly have to do this alone...?

The sun beat down, a pleasantly warm feeling to Flare.

Others would call this "pleasantly warm" feeling "unbearably hot" in many cases, but quite honestly, Flare had felt worse. The volcanic activity of the Ash Lands and Dragon's Cradle meant the air there could often get suffocatingly thick with heat, and while the Zeinav Desert was certainly no stranger to heat itself - especially the dry, oppressive kind, the kind that seeps into every fiber of your being, that could rob those not native to the land of will - this day was much more mild in comparison, far from the worst she had ever felt. A good day to travel.

Flare frowned a little as she felt the few Solars she owned bouncing along in her bag. Right, this wasn't just a pleasure trip, she needed money. Thankfully she'd heard something about a job while passing through the oasis, something about a buried city getting revealed or whatever? She had a bit of an issue recalling the exact details, but it seemed like an easy enough gig. Plus, the man she talked to about it mentioned that it was an open job, so there was the chance she'd encounter others doing the work as well, and it was always nice to meet new people outside of the context of a tavern brawl.

In fact... There, up ahead, that was the crater she was supposed to investigate, wasn't it? And before it was standing a young woman with white hair. Almost definitely someone else who had taken the job... and therefore, someone new to meet!

With her thin desert cloak fluttering around her, Flare dashed up until she was just a few paces away from the other woman, skidding to a stop in the loose sand. She raised her hand on greeting and flashed her best winning smile that would sent any small animal who saw it into hysterics at the obvious threat display. 

"Hello there! The name's Flare, and it's nice to meet ya! You here to investigate the sunken city or whatever it was too? 'Cause Id welcome the company!"

A perfect introduction, if she did say so herself.

It's moments like these when Einheria wonders if her life is being manipulated by some higher narrative power.

Just as soon as she'd finished musing over the possibility of having to do this alone, of having to navigate uncharted territory in a land as vast and unfamiliar and unforgiving as Zeinav, there's the sound of a loud, boisterous voice nearly right by her ear, bright as a flame, joyous as song, more words packed into the sentence than she's given a chance to immediately process.

A tiny squeak spills from her lips as she whirls around to meet the lady who's approached her, her gaze immediately drawn up so she can properly make eye contact. A woman stands before her, one who stands tall and strong in stature, teeth bared in an awkward smile. Her hair is a flame, whirling down her back in long, sweeping wisps, licking at her sharp features the way embers do with tinder, haloing the horns sprouting from her head. What truly brings Einheria pause, however, are the little patches of scarlet spread loosely across her face, her shoulders, the tiny outlines of scales glistening beneath the brilliant sun.

As quickly as the squeak leaves, a gasp follows.

A dragon-- another dragon, surely! This must be a fellow dragon lady, she's certain of it!

"S-Salutations!" Einheria quickly chirps, grabbing the edges of her skirt and dipping into her trademark curtsy. "It is... lovely to meet you, Lady Flare. My name is Einheria, a-and I am indeed here to investigate the sunken city. I-If you were also looking to venture here, then I would be honored to accompany you..."

Flare snorted at the now-identified Einheria's words. "I'm not exactly a lady, but yeah, I'd love to work with ya on this." As she spoke, her mismatched eyes took in the form before her, now that she was close enough to actually see details. 

The first word that came to mind was "snow." An odd word to consider in the desert, but it certainly fit. It wasn't just the hair, which even pinned up took on a texture not unlike a fresh snowfall as it cascaded. Indeed, the essence of snow seemed to permeate this young woman down to her core. The fair skin, the pale eyes, even her bones seemed like they were formed from taking a snowflake and expanding it to a human size, albeit on the smaller end. Beautiful, yes, but sharp and fractal, not to mention fragile, as if the slightest nudge would cause her to collapse.

Her behavior, from that brief glimpse, was also somewhat odd. Flare had mostly learned to talk in a community where camaraderie was abundant, but as a result she'd always struggled with a more formal tone. Einheria, though, spoke so formally, even to a person she just met, it came off as almost archaic. Her manners were much the same. If Flare didn't know any better, she'd have assumed that she just met a rich noblewoman who only just taken her first steps out of her gilded halls.

Then again, appearances could be deceiving. Einheria's clothing was a little odd-looking, but still well-suited for the desert environment, aside from the odd white cape that looked more like a personal item. A rich idiot would prioritize vanity over function, and while the snow waif clearly had a theme going, the small accumulation of sand and dirt across the hem of her skirt showed that she was clearly no stranger to roughing it. Not to mention the possiblity of magical talent. Yes, underestimating Einheria based off first impressions was almost certainly a poor idea.

Flare blinked for a second, realizing she'd been starting for slightly too long to be natural, and coughed into her fist, fixing her eyes into a centerpoint between Einheria's and readopting her grin. "Well, we just gonna wait around her all day then, or are ya ready to head in? I admit I've never really... done anything like this before."

Although every little detail of Flare's character, from the vibrancy of her personality to the manner of her dress, stands in stark contrast to Einheria's deceptively delicate, composed mannerisms, she hardly seems at all bothered by it; oddly enough, the rougher edges of Flare's speech seem as comforting as a lullaby, the intimidating edges of her stature and the sharp cut of that smile strangely warm and inviting. Most might flinch in the presence of a woman like this, one with such confidence, such visible strength, but even in the face of a stranger, Einheria already finds her presence to be much like a balm in the familiarity it ushers in.

With the kinds of companions Einheria keeps, really, it's no wonder she's so at ease.

Still, even so, she does shift in place a bit as Flare scrutinizes her, face burning with equal parts embarrassment and anxiety as those different colored eyes wander over the intricacies of her clothes, of her stature, surveying her as a stranger likely should. It is justified, but nerve-wracking all the same; Einheria hardly ever knows quite what to do in situations like these besides stand there awkwardly...!

"A-Ah, I am quite ready, L-- Miss-- um... Flare," she amends quickly, rapidly, thinking back to a different meeting with a different powerful woman, in the comfort of frost instead of the heat of the desert. Ak'ka had never quite gotten upset over Einheria's persistent efforts to tamper down the formalities, but she doesn't wish to take any risks with a new and unfamiliar face. "Ventures of this nature are... not quite within my expertise, but I have traveled to lost mines before. I do have some idea of navigating subterranean locations."

She lets out a nervous sigh before beginning to step forward, careful to mind the fickleness of the sand as she navigates down into the crater, stepping up and just beyond the cavern's mouth, only spinning back around to ensure Flare is right behind her.

"...S-So," she begins, not wishing for awkward silence to hang over them the whole time. "What do you believe we will find, here...?"

"Hey, sounds like you already know more than I do, that's something."

Honestly, Einheria was... well, adorable when she was nervous. Maybe that nervousness would vanish with time as the two of them got to know each other a little better, but a part of Flare was hoping the adorableness would remain.

Maybe now wasn't the best time to think about that. Flare put such thoughts out of her head as she followed her new companion into the crater. They hadn't made it very far in, however, when Flare found herself pondering the new question Einheria had posed to her.

"I mean... I'm not sure, to be honest?" Flare admitted, tapping her chin in thought. "Could be anything from some old pottery to an entire city, though I'd reckon the former's more likely." Her hand then moved from her face to her scalp, scratching the back of her head in a self-conscious manner. "If you're asking me who may have left the stuff behind, though, I honestly have no idea."

Stepping up so she was next to her companion, she peered into the cavern. The downward slope was perhaps a bit treacherous, but years of thinking on her feet had left Flare fairly confident in her ability to keep her balance. She began to move down, but stopped just a few paces in and glanced back at Einheria.

"By the by, I'm sure you're plenty capable, but feel free to ask if you want any help. I know I'll be doing the same of you." She blinked as a thought occured. "Though, now that I mention it, we should probably let each other know exactly what it is we're good at, huh?"

It's sort of amusing how things like treacherous slopes and promises of danger can start to feel... nostalgic to her, now that she's become a bit more well-versed with the ways of the world, with the things adventure can bring.

The downward slope that spans before them both calls to mind Dragon's Spine, the rockslides she'd once braved with Perrath, the panic of the moment that she'd somehow survived anyway-- had she gazed upon this very thing at the beginning, back when she'd first stumbled out of their cavern in the Frost Gale, she knows she would have shied away, too terrified to step foot into something as vast and unknowable as this. But the fear feels muted, now, dull beneath her curiosity, beneath the far more pressing weight of what she needs to do to save her father, and if such a thing demands she delve into ancient cities, then so be it.

With a quick, but deep breath, Einheria Idunn Vaetki extends her arm, her glaive manifesting in her hand in a flurry of delicate, fleeting snowflakes that melt long before they ever touch the sand, and she begins to use it as a beam of support lest the earth thinks to give out beneath her feet.

"Oh-- of course," she says, drawn out of her spell of focus as soon as Flare mentions the importance of mutual dependence, of relying on one another. She bites her lower lip, however briefly, minding the sharp edges of her canines before she speaks again. "In regards to particular skills... I am well-versed in the art of polearms, namely lances, though I have taken up the glaive as of late, and I favor frost magic. It sleeps in my very blood, after all."

A tiny giggle escapes Einheria as she starts walking down the cavern's slope-- she is practically a snowflake given form, winter-born and winter-shaped. Ice lives within her, just as she lives within ice.

"And what of you, Miss-- um... Flare?"

Blue and violet eyes glanced at the... glaive? That's what Einheria called it, but Flare could hardly see the blade itself. "Frost magic, huh? ... Yeah, it suits you pretty well."

Flare chuckled, following Einheria further down into the cavern. "As for me, well, I do got a bit of fire magic myself, but uh. I'm not really good at it yet. All I can really do is light a torch or campfire, to be honest. I'm trying to work on it but, well, it's slow going."

"That's why if I have ta fight, I rely on these bad girls instead." She threw her arms out from under her desert robes, revealing the outfit she wore underneath, and flexed her arms proudly. "Yeah, I know some people say that hand-to-hand isn't as good as a weapon, but while tools for the job are all well and good, I have a bit of a personal preference for, eh, getting my hands dirty."

Withdrawing her arms once she'd finished showing off, Flare took a second to glance about the cavern walls. The two of them had managed to get fairly low into it already, no doubt helped by the steep angle they were descending at, and up ahead Flare could see what looked like... carved stone? It looked far too smooth to be naturally occuring without a river or something to sand down its edges, at least. It - being a wall in the side of the cavern - was approaching rapidly, but still some distance away from them.

And... was that something written on it..?

A slight smile pulls at the corners of Einheria's lips as she watches Flare's display, a hand rising to her lips to catch the short giggle that escapes. The other girl is quite the boisterous sort, her pride a flame that burns so brilliantly it may just dare consume her if she does not tend it carefully, but it is charming in that same way. As startling as her introduction may have been to begin with, she makes for splendid company-- Einheria can at least say with confidence that this venture will be far from dull. Not that her adventures are ever dull, of course.

"My, my, Flare," she says, that gentle smile bright as sunlight filtered through a glacier, eyes twinkling even beneath the shadow of the cavern's mouth. "I will say; the gift of the body is never a weapon to be underestimated. Some of the most formidable fighters I have met know how to make use of their limbs alone. I would argue that requires a special form of mastery, would you not agree?"

She thinks back to Ak'ka, who, even with the effortless strength required to whirl around a whole pine tree as a weapon, still bore the strength to deliver a brutal punch; she can see the same kind of spirit within Flare, the same kindling set in place. Oh, perhaps when this journey is said and done, she could introduce them...! They seem the type to get along, and Einheria cannot help but be fond of the idea of bringing a friend to meet a friend!

 

She's a breath away from suggesting it when Flare's attention seems to hone in on something ahead of them; a wall, one with carefully-made etchings, indistinguishable from here. Einheria quickens her pace, careful to mind the slope beneath her feet as she approaches, gaze roving over the engravings on the wall--

Oh. Oh!

Familiarity washes over her as she studies the lettering, the way the words are strung together, hears the syllables in her head in an echo of her father's voice--

"I know this language," she says breathlessly, a smile lighting up her face. "This is written in draconic."

A small smile alighted on Flare's lips at Einheria's compliment. It was always nice to hear the hard work she'd put into shaping her body in a weapon in its own right was appreciated. It was an endeavor that had taken most of her life, after all, and needed to be not just upkept but improved on regularly. The twinkling in Einheria's eyes to accompany the words of praise was a nice bonus, though.

"Draconic, huh..." Flare mused aloud as she stopped before the wall itself. Now that they were close, she too could recognize the familiar runes taught to her in her youth. And yet...

Years ago, when she was first learning to read the Common tongue, she'd been shown a text from the ancestors of the nomads she had been living with at the time. Staring at the text had made her head hurt, as there was just enough of the Common script there to recognize what language it was supposed to be, while being so different that Flare had been unable to make heads or tails of it. Eventually the elder who had shown her the text relented and explained that over the years, both the spoken and written Common tongue had undergone what they referred to as "linguisitc drift," and that while it was technically the same language, the amount of time between then and now had caused the way people wrote and spoke the change.

Seeing the Draconic script before her now was a lot like that. Better in some ways, as unlike the old Common text all the runes used were still completely recognizable, but they were structured in such a way that Flare was having difficulty divining exactly what was being depicted.

Unbidden, an old memory of her mother swam into her mind. A caution of how dragons were slow to change, a result of how long-lived their kind were, and how it reflected in all they created... including, Flare realized, their language.

"Geez... This must be an ancient dialect, huh? I can't tell what it's saying at all..."

Einheria is halfway through an exclamation of pure excitement over finally finding something written in her first language, in a tongue she knows better than anything, in the dialect and phrasing and syllabic structure she still hears spoken in the depths of her dreams, when she hears Flare say that this must be a fairly ancient dialect, and that is enough to make her stop mid-way through speaking.

She blinks, lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she glances back over the familiar lettering, the inscription calling to mind memories of the scrolls her father kept on the shelves, the ones that yielded the truly, truly old stories he didn't tell quite so often; the ones about other dragons, the one about the warrior woman Reginleif, the one about the woman with the ram horns that he says he took her middle name from. They weren't stories he shared often, but those were the ones she would savor, since they seemed less fanciful, somehow more within reach. All the strange and wild myths of men and their spite against fabricated gods felt imagined-- the stories about Idunn and Reginleif and Ganglari always felt as though they could be real.

She had memorized them, once, when Nithoggr had been away, poring over those scrolls till the letters sank in.

Einheria would know them anywhere.

"...is it truly so ancient?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she glances over to Flare. She winces prominently at the look of assent she receives in return, quick to purse her lips in contemplation, unsure of how she should recover the conversation. "Oh, well... Draconic is my first language, you see. My father encouraged avid pursuit of... all dialects, though I have a difficult time distinguishing between each of them. I am fluent, all the same, I merely... did not realize."

She manages a weak laugh before turning back to face the inscription, brow furrowing as she glances over the words, inquisitive and wary as the message clicks into place.

"...'There is no honor,'" she reads aloud, voice ringing clear as a bell through the silence of the cavern's mouth. "'No treasure, here-- go back. Go back.'"

Something about the words feels... wrong.

"...I... I see," she murmurs, tracing her fingers over the last few letters. "...I... I suppose we should advance with great caution, Flare."

A frown played across her face briefly as Flare eyed her companion out of the corner of her eye. Einheria had gone from excited, practically euphoric, over the discovery of the text, to drawing into herself once Flare had mentioned how old it looked. It was almost like... Like she was hiding something? Hard to imagine what that might be, especially since the two of them had just met, but...

Well, even if the explanation felt a little... forced, it wasn't really her place to pry about it. If she didn't want to talk about it, she didn't want to talk about it, and far be it from Flare to press the uncomfortable topic.

"Heh. Sounds like your dad was a better teacher than my mom, at least." She shrugged. "I always thought that old wyrm never really knew what to do once she became a mom."

She lasped into silence for a few moments, watching as Einheria deciphered the text. And when she reported their meaning...

"'No honor'? Bit of an odd phrase, and I guess the 'no treasure' part isn't that surprising..." Flare scratched her chin, eyes drifting off to the side as she thought. "Yeah, it sounds pretty bad. But I gotta be honest, I'm mighty curious about just what these people are trying to hide now. And if it really is something that bad... Wouldn't it be a good thing if we figured out what so we could warn the others?"

"Don't get me wrong, I agree we should be careful. But, eh, I don't really wanna turn around unless we gotta, does that make sense?" As she waited for a response, her eyes glanced back down at the darkness before them. Just what was it that got all the ancient people so scared..?

Something about all of this feels impossibly wrong.

Despite the devastating heat pouring in from above, the sun still desperate to rain down on them both while it still can, a foreign chill slithers up Einheria's spine, intrusive, unwelcome; the cold is always something that feels natural against her skin, something she knows and loves and embraces more than anything, but this cold feels like a warning given breath. She reads those last words once more-- go back, go back-- before turning away, stepping forward into the cavern, glancing back to ensure that Flare still stands near her, her grip on her glaive a bit tighter than before.

"...We are here to find answers," she says simply, taking one more deep breath, attempting to present the image of indifference, of confidence, of a girl who's shatterproof. Einheria Idunn Vaetki, daughter of a proud adventurer, has no reason to hesitate in the jaws of danger if she's nimble enough to weave out of its teeth. "Answers... require venturing forth and collecting what information we can. I would prefer not to turn around, as well."

With that, she continues walking, posture stiff as an icicle as she takes a few more careful steps into the jaws of this strange, lost little city beneath the sands, the walls an inward spiral, a throat of stone closing in around them in tighter coils with each and every step.

Go back.

The messages still linger.

Go back.

They're etched in every wall, the inscriptions hasty, desperate.

Go back, go back, go back.

She does not. They do not.

The two of them keep walking in that narrow little passage, the walls stained with that same aching warning, until it fans back out into an open cavern, the shattered fragments of an old, ancient path sprawling out before them-- one that leads right into the spires of a strange, half-collapsed stone kingdom carefully tucked away beneath sand and stone.

"...Well, Flare," Einheria whispers, eyes fixed on what lies ahead. "...are you ready?"

"As ready as I can be, I think."

Flare was... worried. Not necessarily about the message left for them, no, though that particular concern was still swirling around the back of her mind. No, she was primarily worried for two reasons. 

The first was Einheria. Ever since she had read the warning, her entire demeanor had... shifted. Gone was the cool grace and gentleness of a fresh snowfall, replaced with a hard, frozen stance, one which only grew tighter as they journeyed on. Now, at the gates of a lost city, she may as well have been a statue for how stiff she was. Only her eyes betrayed the impression, constantly darting back and forth as if searching for some hidden threat. 

Admittedly, Flare had only known Einheria for roughly an hour at this point, but the sheer icy terror pervading her being was... disturbing, in contrast to her awkward and genuine warmth from earlier.

The other reason for Flare's own wariness, meanwhile... Well, it was the city that now lay before them.

It may have been majestic, once. Crumbling towers and spires that may have once scraped the very heavens now rotted and hollow, confined by the ceiling of stone above. Spiralling streets and pathways before them danced in eye-watering patterns. curves and turns and bridges and dips concealing the full extent of their scope. Here and there, Flare could see glimpses of what may have been works of art, once upon a time, rendered formless and meaningless by the ravages of time. 

There were several oddities that Flare could discern even from their location. The way the entire city seemed to be dimly lit, though there were no light sources to be seen. This far underground it should be pitch black, and yet the city seemed caught in an eternal dusk. There was the buildings themselves - though Flare was no architect, it seemed odd how many buildings they could see, and yet none appeared to be anything resembling a house, a home, a sterility that was strange even for a location that was long since untouched by any people. And then...

What was it? A noise, just beyond the edge of her hearing? A visual hallucination, just subtle enough to be hidden? A mere feeling, a sixth sense of sorts? 

Was it a faint, inexplicable breeze, rustling through the stone, or the hint of breath? Minor tremors gently moving the earth beneath her, or the shifting of a body? Her own heartbeat, thudding in her head, or a heartbeat from without..?

Flare swallowed. This was a sensation she knew all to well, no matter how much she may try to deny it.

She was staring down some great beast, one all too eager to feed.

She's read countless stories like this before.

Fairy tales were always Einheria's favorite-- the kind of stories with fantastical premises, with magic, with things that may be capable of happening in the world beyond but seldom truly did, things with knights and princess and flame-breathing dragons, poisoned apples and spindles. But oh, when centuries lie before you and literature is the only friend your father leaves behind for you, it is not as though you can ever afford to be picky; and so, if there was an unread story left on one of those endless shelves, read it she would.

Sometimes they were nonfiction accounts from adventurers, old and new; they'd contain accounts of places like this, of ruins, lost cities, rich with old lore lost with time. Sometimes they were mere myth, spinning grandiose tales of dead gods and the mortals who once loved them so. Sometimes they were grim stories with no kind end, living tombs with gaping jaws, all too happy to prey upon the fools who tread upon their ground.

She prays this story is not the last, though the sinking feeling taking root in her stomach may indicate otherwise.

Einheria takes a shaky breath as she sets her bag down, quick to produce a notebook she'd purchased specifically for this expedition, carefully scrawling the draconic inscriptions and a quick translation note across the pages-- she had been told to recover information, to record all she could, and she should not forget such a thing now, however unsettled she was. Once that was done, she turned to glancing over the spires before her, penning out a rudimentary sketch, something to fill the pages.

"...It is... some source of comfort that it is so quiet down here," she says lightly, hoping her tone does not betray her unease. "I am merely taking a moment to take some notes before we continue. We have the inscriptions, ah... do you see anything else, just yet, Flare?"