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Date Posted: 18:31:03 01/21/02 Mon
Author: Tristan
Subject: Now what do we do?
In reply to: Ebessa 's message, "Info on Twilight and the Sharm" on 14:45:14 01/21/02 Mon

Tristan couldn’t believe his luck when Marz returned bearing real food. He watched with gleaming eyes as the little individually wrapped packages were passed out, snapping his up as if it were a sack full of diamonds instead of a few pieces of smoked ham. Even though he had snacked on a plateful of sausages back at the Jann camp, he was once again famished. He guessed it was possible to spend most of your time as a human and still have the healthy appetite of a nearly full-grown dragon!

“Wish I could go hunting,” he muttered, as he chewed the ham, handing Marz the bread and fruit that had come wrapped with it, since he didn’t like to eat that stuff. “Bet there’s nothing to hunt around here but camels and horses with humans for heads, though.”

He paused and glanced at Marz when he mentioned going swimming in the nearby pond. Does he mean just the two of us? he wondered, his thoughts already turning to the brief time they’d spent together in the hot spring the other night. Why else would he have felt the need to whisper like that?

Don’t be such an ass, he told himself, shaking his head ever so slightly. Sheesh, whatever happened to the thoughtful, sensible, self-refined young dragon he’d once been? He felt like such a pervert lately. If this was the way mortals felt all the time, he didn’t know how they managed to make it through the day without going stark raving mad.

He was distracted from his inner monologue by what was going on between Saras and Ravin. He was extremely impressed when the flame erupted from behind the genie and slammed headlong into his supposed master, apparently granting his wish. Well, if the pretty little thing had been carrying that sort of power up his sleeves all along, then maybe Tristan had underestimated him!

Another thing to be grateful for was the fact that Saras seemed to be attracting the attention of Jeremy lately, which meant that the stupid kid hadn’t been hanging around Marz as much. Maybe he’d finally gotten over his stupid crush and had come to realize that his idol was so far above him, so desperately unattainable, that all efforts at making him his were utterly hopeless. At least that’s what Tristan was hoping for, anyway.

Soon afterward, the head centaur’s sister Narur approached, asking that they all share in their tribe’s ritual and drink from the bowl of water she would pass around. As Tristan drew the bowl to his lips, his nose picked up a faint, foreign odor, magical in nature, although whether or not it came from the water itself or the original cupbearer remained to be seen.

Ebessa confirmed his suspicions, revealing her sister to be some sort of minor seer at the least. As she described the conditions concerning the besieging of Twilight by the centaurs, Tristan decided privately that it wouldn’t be any big deal for them to enter the city. After all the enemies they’d met with in the past—from walking skeletons, to flying vultures, even a giant kraken—a group of religious zealots would be nothing at all. They could get in, find the branch (or was the branch in the Sea of Salt? He couldn’t remember), and get out, without even breaking a sweat. Maybe when they were safely back out, he could return in dragon form later on and fry those idiots huddling in their tower. Wouldn’t that be a load of fun!

He sighed when the centaurs replaced the snake meat with a bowl of cactus of all the things. Like that was any better! He watched, slightly bored, as the whole lot of them trotted back to their tents where they intended to sleep the day away until nightfall, when they would agree to show the group to the outskirts of the city. So…what were the rest of them supposed to do all day, then?”

“Now what?” he asked, giving Marz, and the nearby Corum and Tia, a questioning look. “Oh…how’s your wrist?” He turned to Marz specifically, picking up the limb in question and frowning when he naturally couldn’t detect any further signs of injury. “Well, maybe I could touch you how to fight left handed, anyway. I used to fight with both hands a while back,” he added proudly, a somewhat smug little smile coming to his face.

But then another idea entered his head, and though it was less enjoyable than a practice session with swords, it was probably more important.

“I guess if you wanted to,” he said quietly, leaning forward so that he was speaking into Marz’s ear, “We could work on those chakra things with Erlic.”

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