[IRP] Across the Mountains

[dreamsleever]

He hadn't been out of Arcadia or even Nabata for long. It was risky, hiding amongst a people that he barely understood, but curiosity drove Idalius.

He concealed his identity as a dragon. His pointed ears were hidden beneath his long, black hair. He was very protective of his dragonstone, but people saw it as merely a beautiful blue pendant. As for his dark skin, it was typical of a Nabatan. People knew that the well-spoken, polite young man who frequented their markets was a foreigner from the deserts of the south.

Everything about humanity was quick and fleeting. Idalius had spent a lot of time in the marketplace, listening to them talking, looking at their wares. In fact, he was such a common sight there that he'd gotten a 'job' of sorts. One of them sold meat; he'd shown Idalius how to hunt for food, and now, Idalius brought back meat. At times he had cheated – rather than using his hunting bow the man had generously given him, he'd turned dragon and pinned his quarry down. He had been careful, though, not wanting people in the town to see a dragon.

It was outside of the town that he'd made a humble camp. There was an old cabin, overgrown and claimed by nature. It couldn't have been any older than he was. He had noticed about human's structures, that they were not built to last like they had been in Arcadia. Humans were a strange, short-lived people. They were so fast in how they went about everything. They were so hurried in everything that they did.

One of the few places where they truly relaxed was the tavern. And it was there that Idalius tended to spend a great deal of time. For right now, he was there wondering about what to eat for lunch. He had no interest in the ale; it was far too bitter for his tastes. He in fact preferred coffee. Even when he didn't buy anything from the tavern, he was such a friendly presence that because the customers liked having him around, the barkeep would tolerate him.

He was listening to the barkeep talking to a man with black hair. He'd been musing over the barkeep's riddles, but something stumped him.

"What is snow?" he queried of the man and the barkeep, curious of this word he did not know.