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Solitude wasn’t ideal for everybody, certainly not for dragon riders that supposedly endured in groups as opposed to alone. Nimethel was an exception in that and everything else. Perched at the base of a cave mouth where her feet had dug into the only bit of sand and grounded stone it could find, cross-legged in a prayer almost. One hand gripping the spotted grey fur on her ankles, the other propped to hold her chin while elbow and knee dug into each other rather uncomfortably. She was sleeping, or napping as cat-like things always did. Unhurried, unbothered.

Nyrrimae snored in equal measure, half-buried under surface rock as she had dug herself a hole to preserve whatever warmth her body had still held. Tail curled, thick head tucked between stubby claws. The membrane along her spine fluttered, attuned to her rider’s occasional purrs that echoed softly through the cave entrance. The beastkin’s whiskers responded in turn to the dragon’s sporadic nasal huffs. Nose scrunching at the sensation just enough to register in her relaxed state. Almost like they were synced, just one sleeping louder than the other.

Her ears twitched. Swerving to catch the faint rustling of trees, whispering winds where wingspans fought against the currents just below the clouds. Her squad was preparing for patrol. [color=#B76839]“N[i]r[/i]oisy.”[/color] She snarled, a low rumble in her throat. One yellow eye blinked open to spot the sight of her fellow riders taking to the grey skies and cool air. Nimethel sighed, a vibration between a comfortable spin and a tired grumble as her body uncoiled; a lazy stretch that had her stand on toes and lift her paws toward the rocky ceiling. Joints popped comfortably before her body hunched forward when padded soles touched the floor.

[color=#B76839]“Niri. S[i]s[/i]it.”[/color] An even tone that had the hallmarks of her signature rumble hidden underneath. The beastkin approached, silent but for the gentle breathing she evoked when Nyrrimae wasn’t fully aware of her surroundings. Another step, a hand reaching, wrapping around the dragon’s muzzle to brush a furry palm along a scaled jawline. [color=#B76839]“Nir[i]rr[/i]i.”[/color] She whispered, yellow eyes catching the reflexive jolt in the pale creature’s muscles along her shoulder and stubby legs.

… Milky eyes opened at attention.

A sniff, heavy and uncertain. Then a tail curled around Nimethel protectively, Nyrrimae’s head tilted to catch the beastkin’s body heat before her bulky frame lumbered out of the crudely dug hole, three-toed foreclaws catching on flatter surface. A beat. Nyrrimae’s head turned fully now, and Nimethel felt the rough warmth of her companion’s tongue lapping at her leather armour. The beastkin smiled, or rather her lips curled, a rare permission from herself. [color=#B76839]“hey,”[/color] She whispered, forehead touching the dragon’s nose. [color=#B76839]“It’s time.”[/color]

Nyrrimae finished her crawl, feet dragging along stone to step outside the cave. Barely the size of a fully grown hippo when the dragon stood. She blinked. Not registering the light, but reacting anyway where nerves pricked as if it could see. Nimethel worked methodically, securing straps and the saddle with a light pull to check if it dug into the softer belly. Her cloak tied around her waist, hood tucked comfortably inward, to keep it from flapping wildly. Bow hooked and strapped around her torso. She nodded agreeably and leapt onto her dragon’s back, body springing and then wrapping just behind thick shoulders.

The dragon huffed, starting into its own clumsy jump to climb onto an uneven mountain surface. Her body curling and slithering upward to a ledge, claws leaving thick indents into stone where they gripped. Nyrrimae perched up on the ledge, hunched forward when she reached the edge then, like dead weight, let her body fall. Not diving, not lurching into the air, simply falling. The wings spread after friction gave way, soft membrane between bone rippling when they clapped once and she finally rose toward the clouds with Nimethel clutching the reins, body flattened to keep her own balance. Silver, braided hair rippling in the wind.

The slow ascent had her assigned squadron come into view. Nyrrimae lurched forward, each clap of wings audible under the strong winds. The dragon never stopped moving, rather dynamically allowed her body to move with a current if it needed to, wings spread to make the most of the natural lift while maintaining proximity to the other dragons. A shrill chirp reverberated from the dragon’s throat, pitched too high to register, but felt as the air rippled outward to map the other presences near.

Nimethel straightened finally, a curt nod at her captain before her attention was back to Niri.