The days she spent at the Kvaren Gathering seemed to pass in a blur for Drache. Laurel and the others took turns escorting her around, and while she felt like her days were an endless parade of new faces and exciting things to see and do, after four days the half-dragon had only seen a fraction of the massive camp. Drache mostly hung around with the Crimson Vines, fascinated and welcomed by their spell-casters. 

Even so, on the 28th Drache awoke with Peridiath's mission weighing on her and stood outside the flap of Sirik's tent with her arms folded across her torso, tail-tip flip-flopping as she scowled thoughtfully towards the horizon to the west, feeling the warmth of the rising sun on her wings and horns. The drow said nothing, as usual, as he emerged, still pulling his clothes on, but lifted a questioning brow.

[color=ed1c24]"It's nothing,"[/color] Drache insisted.

And as it would turn out, fate had arranged for her to remain with her new friends a little longer. On the 28th, Drachiathoryx spent most of the morning watching the fighters compete in contests of strength and skill with many different weapons, most of which the hybrid had no names for. She sat under a colourful awning, leaning against Kraven's broad shoulder while Laurel rubbed some kind of spiced salve into the soft membranes of her wings. She had two books open in front of her, one was her ornate personal journal, and the other was the first of the logbooks Peri had given her. 

In the logbook, Drache noted the events of the Gathering with a short description, but in her own journal she elaborated a great deal, the margins littered with sketches and tidbits of information she learned about magic or the Kvaren language. Her ear-frills twitched at the sounds of steel blades crashing together. But the sounds of fighting faded as the Crimson Vines arrived and the half-Ixen watched with curious fascination at the tension that seemed to rippled through the crowd of onlookers.

The half-breed's reptilian eyes widened even further as the bloodvines peeled themselves from Keelie's skin, and Drache crept forwards to get a better look before Sirik's hand on one of her wingbones kept her back. It may have been her imagination, but she thought a ripple of knowing anticipation swept through the Crimson Vines as Warlord Keelie delivered her scathing chastisement. And the reason for that was quickly explained as the massive plant-creature shrieked and began crushing and devouring the slaves who had not volunteered to join the scouts.

Drache shrank back from the grisly scene, her lips bared in a fangy grimace as someone's blood splattered hot and sticky across her scales. The brutal murder of slaves was a stark contrast to the festive atmosphere the elementalist had enjoyed thus-far, and as Drache's eyes fell on the face of the first slave who had volunteered, she decided that it was time to leave.

Keelie was much shorter than the dragoness, who dipped her snout and fluttered her wings a little at the Warlord who addressed her. [color=ed1c24]"I'm flattered by your hospitality, Warlord Keelie,"[/color] Drache replied, glancing at Laurel for confirmation that her combination of words and hand-signs was correct, though she finished her sentenced in Common. [color=ed1c24]"It is true that I was traveling West when I met your scouts, and I intend to continue shortly. It pleases me to think that my path will align with theirs for a little while longer." [/color]

But when offered the reigns attached to a horse, Drache just laughed ruefully and waved the giver off, swishing her tail in amusement. [color=ed1c24]"I think not. My wings work perfectly well, thank you."[/color]

--

On the morning of the 31st, Drachiathoryx prudently removed her cloak from her pack and swept it over her shoulders so that it covered her wings, the hood draping over her horns. It was a poor disguise, no amount of cloth enough to obscure her shape, but at least it would hide the bright crimson of her scales. But when Shora offered to disguise her with magic, Drach refused. [color=ed1c24]"A kind offer,"[/color] she grinned, looking into eyes that had been croccodilian a moment before. [color=ed1c24]"But I prefer to keep my own face. I'll stay out here with Laurel and you can tell me what you learn when you come back."[/color] The half-dragon was reluctant to trust in another spellcaster's skills, and was reluctant to assume a human disguise on principal.

Turning to Laurel, [color=ed1c24]"If these humans are going to be that much of a problem for people like me, I might have to resume my journey alone."[/color] The hybrid sounded reluctant, leaning in close to nibble Laurel's earlobe while the others went inside.