FALORA

Twilight hues sprawled through her eyelids when she tried to find restful sleep with the electricity over her lips. Her breath tickled the edges of adventure's soft, sweet, clouded song, set to sail across the dragonfire skies. Swaddled in blankets, she heard a distant lullaby rocked in the arms of Mother against the whisper of wind outside her window, singing through the willows. Aethermist hissed in her ears, and she awoke to the stars.

The Vortex flew onwards in an auto-pilot state with Alexavier's adjustments to the compass and altimeters, the air barrier keeping them safe from any obstructions while the pilot slept. Lights sprinkled across the Elder Crossing, the First, the progenitor of their world who gave 'birth' to dragons. Religious texts and prayers of pity slammed into her chest, her smile dropped and her restful sleep dissipated. In a ray of embers, the dragon's aura fluttered across the expanse. Alexavier and Zyle's door was shut and locked tight.

Back topside, she found herself drawn to the crow's nest which Orilion chose to reside in instead of the smaller rooms. Gentle wind caressed her cheeks, with the sails reflecting the stars above her head. On the deck, she stole out her sketchbook, and the part of a glaive she found in Orilion's temple, broken apart with no other pieces in sight. Pencil in hand, she traced its lines to commit to memory, to fill in the blanks. Finished with the puzzle piece, she hauled it over her shoulder and made the ascent higher into the clouds. Hatch open, she climbed inside the crow's nest.

"Orilion?" Inside, she shut the hatch and tried to adjust herself to the darkness inside the room. Gods... I wonder if this... no, he wouldn't be in here if it felt the same as his prison. Falora winced when one of the sails fluttered past the window and cast a soft, moonlit shadow onto a shape curled up on the cushions. Wind rustled his hair of pitch black, his face buried into the pillow he supported with an arm. Tar dripped off scales. Wings torn and soaked with blood, but the painting failed to reconcile with the truth of the world, the self-same picture in front of her who rested on his side, deep in sleep. "Is that comfortable?"

He stiffened and looked over his shoulder to peer at her. "It's fine." He brushed a hand through his fluffy hair, returning to nuzzling the pillow.

"I mean, a bed would probably be more comfortable," she pointed out.

"I've had my time 'sleeping' in closet prison and void prisons," he said and curled closure to the cushions. "I don't care where I sleep as long as it's not enclosed and I can see the sky." One heavy breath, and the sails expanded with his chest. "I'm surprised you're up here. We have a while until dawn."

Falora sat on another cushion to the endless cloudlands. Higher still, the legendary city of Arth'lun, home of dragons which remained on the skies peaks.

Or Orilion so desperately believed.

Inbetween, the Azarian kingdoms. Falora studied him once more at his silence. "Are you cold?"

"Nope." He sighed, and then sat up to fix his dishevelled hair with envious ease. "What are you doing up so early?"

"How could I miss any part of this?" Falora took out her sketchbook again and traced the lines of the horizon, adding her own little flair to it. Her view of the world. Her truth. "This is the first time I've ever flown, and not everyone has the opportunity." Her heart exploded when fluffy clouds glided past them. "I suppose that's another thing I have to thank you for." Orilion pursed his lips and ran his fingers down the cushions. Trails of blue followed his fingers, a whisper of divine wind, and she blurted, "Can I sit with you?"

"You were... doing that already, no?"

Falora shrugged and settled herself into a comfortable position. Clouds. Sky. Stars. Dragon fire. Orilion hugged himself, then scooted an inch out of reach. Awkwardness slipped claws into her throat when she tried to find words to assure him, but found them lacking and was unable to stare into the morning cyans after a storm. Sweet tastes slipped past her lips when she inhaled, then said, "Asen'Orilion."

"Falora Tyvlon."

Falora raised an eyebrow. " I said just to call me Falora."

"And I said to call me Orilion."

Falora squinted. "You know... we need to come up with something to call you when we're around Alex and Zyle — considering you're not making it easy to protect who and what you are." Her finger pressed into his lean shoulder, and he frowned at her.

"What makes you say that? They have not said anything."

"Oh, I don't know, 'I've seen bigger'," she said with air-quotes. "Look, my people far below don't see aether beasts, let alone gargantuan ones, and you don't have horns, so you don't come across as Azari."

His brow folded. "That wasn't a gargantuan one, not even close."

"You've proved my point," she pointed out. "You've seen bigger?"

"I... have." Energy lit up sparks of lightning in his irides. "I can remember that much. Out of everything I have forgotten... Alex's words brought it back to me." He looked out the window. "I remember hunting the skywardens when they threatened the peace of the cities. It was my task, my duty to keep the skies safe for all manner of mortals and creatures."

Her curiosity flared over her annoyance as she gripped her pen. "And?"

"And..." He trailed off, and he gave a surly expression to the floor. "I just..." Another shaky breath. "I want to remember, Falora. I do, but all I can seem to remember is feelings, some others like my sister... but that's all. Just nothingness even when I try to piece it together... those thousands of years in that void..." He let out a strangled, soft scoff. "I don't know what it did to me, and why." He rubbed his hand down his back with a wince. "All I've got is a scar and my name in the end. I... I know I was in a fight, and then she got a hit on me and immolated my wings, bones and all, but I don't know who she could've been. It's just light into darkness." He pinched his nose. "Why was I in a fight? Why did I... turn into a monster?"

Scales of dripping pitch.

"Let's go down below, I think you need some air," she said. Orilion gave a faint nod then opened the hatch to slide to the deck, and she followed suit. "You know..." she drew out. "At least we're flying now? You seem to be getting some of your strength back."

"It's... Yes, we are, but it's not the same," Orilion complained. "I'm just standing here. It's so empty and emotionless. I'm not feeling it."

"I heard that," Alexavier drawled from the staircase. "You, sir, sound like my grandfather." He put one hand on his back and stomped to them. "Once upon a time, Alexavier, our ancestors could fly themselves! No need for these fandangled, confusing airshippys."

Orilion twisted with a clear argument to his lips, but she grabbed his forearm to pull him out of the dangerous line of questioning. Alexavier snorted and went past them to unlock the wheel. "I can show you what emotional flying is," he said. "We have a course set for the midlands. We're making a pitstop at the sky peninsula within the Siathat region."

"Will we run into aetherbeasts?" Falora asked.

Alexavier shrugged. "It's possible, I am taking an under the radar route." He motioned to the harpoon on his back and then the two holsters on his belt. Loaded into a pack, a chain made of what appeared to be metallic clouds inserted themselves into the larger guns. "Don't you worry, though, I'm not a trained Skyhunter for nothing." He moved one of the compasses by the wheel. "It's a long way to Celestan. How're you feeling, Miss Falora?"

"Better than yesterday."

"Hats off to you then," Alexavier said with a two-fingered touch to his brow in Orilion's direction. "The Vortex is a hunting airship. I'm well-equipped to deal with any obstacles, large or small, though I doubt we'll be seeing one of the larger ones this far down." Falora resisted the urge to face-palm when Orilion drew the corner of his lip back in a disinterested way. "And it seems like I have a skeptic on board."

"I'm not a skeptic."

"Sounds like something a skeptic would say." Alexavier waggled his finger, and Falora gasped when he lunged the wheel to the side in force. A light buzz rippled against her thigh, where the air disc clasped to her belt hummed with energy. Even with the tight turn of the Vortex, she remained in her spot. Beside her, Orilion folded his arms and moved even less. Alex straightened out the ship with a flourish, and leaned back. "You're not wearing that air disc, Sir Skeptic."

Falora raised her fist to swing into Orilion, but he shrugged with indifference. Alexavier gave him a strange expression, then tugged on one of the levers and the aethermist carried them higher. "I can't have that, follow me..." He pointed at Orilion.

"...Ori."

Really reached for that one, didn't you... stupid dragon.

"Ori," Alexavier said with a smile. "If you'd follow me, I will not have any doom and gloom cloak wearers on my airship." Orilion sent a harried, spooked glance her way, but she huffed in response. "It's nice up here, you don't need the cloak. It'll just get in the way."

Left alone on the deck, she groaned. "Ori, really?" Her palm smacked against her brow. Gods, you can't lie. It took too long for the two to return, and her irritation faded in an instant.

Orilion wore the same light leather garb Alexavier wore, handed the same weapons and tools to put on his belt. It revealed his toned arms as he overturned the chain gun in his hands with a reptilian tilt of his head. Up until Alexavier righted it once more. "Since you're so reluctant to use the airdisc, don't blame me if you fall off," he said as he corrected Orilion's grip and patted him on the shoulder. "Although, you do look quite fetching in this — I'd think you were born for it."

Orilion hesitated with a frozen expression. "Born for it..."

"Yep." Alexavier gave him another pat on the back and tugged on the strap of the harpoon. "Again, though, the airdisc will keep you firmly on deck."

"How do you hunt, then?" Alexavier pointed at the weapons Orilion held, but he shook his head again with an annoyed huff. "No, I mean... don't you have to get up close and personal? Aetherbeasts don't just... let you attack them."

"Only if you're full of marbles in there," Alexavier said with a point at his temple. "I don't. I like living." He released his own hiss through his nose, and Orilion responded in turn by bringing his entire attention to the Azari. "Of course they struggle. I have attachers on this airship. You stick them with a painless reagent and they feel nothing." Alexavier folded his arms with his own skeptical expression. "Do you mean to tell me you've tried to wrangle an aetherbeast without proper tools and netting."

Orilion opened his mouth, but Falora slapped her hand across it. "He is not saying that. We've just heard that experienced Skyhunters do wrangle aetherbeasts up close and personal."

Clouds shifted in Orilion's expression when he lowered his hand back to his side and eyed her. Alexavier returned to the wheel without another word. "I mean, maybe? I just haven't seen experienced Skyhunters do something like that," he commented. "Anyway, the betweenlands we're heading for are breeding grounds, so we'll need to be careful."

Falora let go of Orilion when he stepped back from her. "It'd be my first time seeing one..." Excitement drove over painted pictures. "Are you going to hunt?"

"Hm... we could use the extra money, and I do love proving people wrong." He grinned at Orilion. "We'll need all that we can get to even approach Celestan, let alone enter it. Until then, I've made this trip a million times."

As they moved through the mist, she tugged Orilion to the railing. "Hello?" she hissed through her teeth.

"Hello."

"I said to at least try and act like you don't know what's going on." Falora tightened her grip on his loose sleeve.

"What?" Orilion looked almost offended.

"For someone who's lost almost all of his memory, you remember damning details," Falora hid her voice with the wind, but waved her arms at him. "Orilion, people don't hunt like that. We're not dragons."

"You don't need to be a dragon to hunt like that." Mist broke around them. "What's the point if you can't feel?"

"Is he calling my flying boring, again?" Alexavier called. "We talked about this, Ori."

Falora went to deny his claim, but she froze when Alexavier slammed to attention and pulled a lever back. Extra sails released themselves from the rigging as they ascended quicker. Orilion switched his grip onto her when they broke the first layer of cloud cover. Floating islands took over the expanse, hidden in thicker clouds and beheld the beauty of the Azarian dawn. Orilion tensed up, his gaze flicking from side to side with a hunter's sense. "What now—"

A shadow birthed itself from the clouds, and a scream left her throat when wicked, jagged teeth grew from the fluff. Grey fins tore the cloud apart as it flew beside the airship. Alexavier whistled, then said, "Willing to put your money where your mouth is, Sir Skeptic?"

It was magnificent, beautiful, and she couldn't let go of Orilion.

"Don't do anything crazy," she snapped over the roar of the aethershark.

He pursed his lips and gazed at her as it stalked them. "I'll prove it to you — prove that just because your people aren't dragons... doesn't mean you can't fly." He swung his attention to Alexavier. "Watch and learn!" Falora fumbled her grip when his godly strength overpowered her, and he leaped on the railing.

"You don't have—" Falora gasped.

Orilion jumped without wings.