Thayva, with the corrected papers clutched in her arms, followed Serapis to their fourth-floor apartment. Their kitchen, though small, held a wood-burning stove, cabinets galore, and a closet for herbs and another designed to keep their few meats cold and prevent them from spoiling.
As her husband pulled out what he needed, Thayva went to the herb closet. A large selection hung drying from the ceiling, while others already dried and crushed sat on shelves, stored in glass jars. She grabbed the few herbs she thought would go well with chicken, and placed them on a counter. She went to pop out a cork in one of the bottles, but stopped, listening. An odd noise floated up the stove’s flue, which connected to the kitchens on the ground floor. Shouts. Screams.
“Serapis!” Thayva hissed a moment before the other dracon declared their need downstairs.
She ran after him down to the lower level. The worst possibilities ran through her mind.
As soon as Serapis moved aside enough for her to see the chaos, she stopped. She stared for a long moment, her mouth open slightly in shock as Serapis brought an end to the various spells buzzing through the air. Relief flooded through her that it was not something worse. Then, when the situation sunk in, her nose crinkled, and her lips pulled back in an angered snarl that showed off her menacingly sharp teeth.
She stepped up beside Serapis as he demanded information, and crossed her arms, her angry gaze scanning the orphans.
Looks of shock, panic, and amusement dominated the faces before her, from human to lizardfolk alike. She tried to pick out any expressions that looked guilty among the messy faces, but could find none that especially stood out.
When none of the students offered any answers to Serepis’ questions, the female elf spoke, momentarily gaining Thayva’s attention.
“They planned it well,” a battle-scarred human offered softly after the elf--a well-seasoned warrior male who trained the orphanage’s human children in combat. He clasped his hands behind his back. “They waited for the changeover.”
“Thayva,” Serapis said, gaining her attention, “what’s your take on all of this?”
Thayva raised her chin slightly, still eyeing the children. “My take, Serapis,” she began loudly, her dark tone echoing through the now silent dining hall. It seemed that everyone had held their breath, waiting to hear what the two had to say. “Is that it will be difficult to impossible to distinguish between those involved, and those covering for their friends or themselves, if anyone stepped forward. I say, let them all stay here until they’ve cleaned this room to a sparkle. After all, if they can work together to make this mess, they can do the same to clean it up. And, to make up for any missed practices, add an extra day of classes and training this week.”
As her husband pulled out what he needed, Thayva went to the herb closet. A large selection hung drying from the ceiling, while others already dried and crushed sat on shelves, stored in glass jars. She grabbed the few herbs she thought would go well with chicken, and placed them on a counter. She went to pop out a cork in one of the bottles, but stopped, listening. An odd noise floated up the stove’s flue, which connected to the kitchens on the ground floor. Shouts. Screams.
“Serapis!” Thayva hissed a moment before the other dracon declared their need downstairs.
She ran after him down to the lower level. The worst possibilities ran through her mind.
As soon as Serapis moved aside enough for her to see the chaos, she stopped. She stared for a long moment, her mouth open slightly in shock as Serapis brought an end to the various spells buzzing through the air. Relief flooded through her that it was not something worse. Then, when the situation sunk in, her nose crinkled, and her lips pulled back in an angered snarl that showed off her menacingly sharp teeth.
She stepped up beside Serapis as he demanded information, and crossed her arms, her angry gaze scanning the orphans.
Looks of shock, panic, and amusement dominated the faces before her, from human to lizardfolk alike. She tried to pick out any expressions that looked guilty among the messy faces, but could find none that especially stood out.
When none of the students offered any answers to Serepis’ questions, the female elf spoke, momentarily gaining Thayva’s attention.
“They planned it well,” a battle-scarred human offered softly after the elf--a well-seasoned warrior male who trained the orphanage’s human children in combat. He clasped his hands behind his back. “They waited for the changeover.”
“Thayva,” Serapis said, gaining her attention, “what’s your take on all of this?”
Thayva raised her chin slightly, still eyeing the children. “My take, Serapis,” she began loudly, her dark tone echoing through the now silent dining hall. It seemed that everyone had held their breath, waiting to hear what the two had to say. “Is that it will be difficult to impossible to distinguish between those involved, and those covering for their friends or themselves, if anyone stepped forward. I say, let them all stay here until they’ve cleaned this room to a sparkle. After all, if they can work together to make this mess, they can do the same to clean it up. And, to make up for any missed practices, add an extra day of classes and training this week.”
