Devera had disappeared abruptly, a month or so after she and Ragnar had their rendezvous. And she was gone for a month; in that month a dragon rampaged parts of Thedas, reports flooded in but the dragon was unable to be tracked down. Living as a human had made her better able to avoid being tracked.
After a few more weeks, she'd laid her clutch. And she carried them back with her to Amaranthine, where she took up residence again in one of the many rooms. It wasn't hard to find her; she was a rogue Grey Warden who'd disappeared abruptly and never shown back up to her post.
Within the room she had claimed was a makeshift nest, fabrics, and a fire going all the time. Quite a strange sight in the middle of summer, but she didn't realize that. So far she had managed to coast under the radar.
Three little eggs were bundled up, kept warm. She rarely left the nest she'd made for herself, if she wasn't outside in the garden she was on the nest. If she wasn't eating, she was on the nest. Her wandering days were few and far between.
The gardens she had crafted, with a variety of different toxic plants, went untended and eventually became overrun by weeds. Her actions were strange; she was usually extremely talkative, excited to interact while at meals.
Now, though, it was straight home from meals to tend to her nest. Almost obsessively, then again, most dragons did not leave their nest period. She tested the warmth of one of the eggs. When they grew too cold, she'd quickly reheat them to the appropriate temperature by stocking the fire. It was bothersome to have to re-vive the fire by hand rather than a burst of her own fire.
In the wild, she'd use her breath to do so. They'd be kept on a fire or bed of coals in the center of the nest. And effectively, that's what she's mimicked here. The nest surrounds the fireplace, fanning out from it in a half-circle.
It's clear where she sleeps. She's pulled her mattress from its frame onto the edge of the nest, and as the fire in the fireplace rekindled, she settled on the mattress to watch the eggs closely. Devera had not noticed Ragnar following her back to her room, and as she settled in front of the fireplace, watching the flames as if lulled into a calm disassociation, the knock on her door does not startle her. She doesn't hear it.
After a few more weeks, she'd laid her clutch. And she carried them back with her to Amaranthine, where she took up residence again in one of the many rooms. It wasn't hard to find her; she was a rogue Grey Warden who'd disappeared abruptly and never shown back up to her post.
Within the room she had claimed was a makeshift nest, fabrics, and a fire going all the time. Quite a strange sight in the middle of summer, but she didn't realize that. So far she had managed to coast under the radar.
Three little eggs were bundled up, kept warm. She rarely left the nest she'd made for herself, if she wasn't outside in the garden she was on the nest. If she wasn't eating, she was on the nest. Her wandering days were few and far between.
The gardens she had crafted, with a variety of different toxic plants, went untended and eventually became overrun by weeds. Her actions were strange; she was usually extremely talkative, excited to interact while at meals.
Now, though, it was straight home from meals to tend to her nest. Almost obsessively, then again, most dragons did not leave their nest period. She tested the warmth of one of the eggs. When they grew too cold, she'd quickly reheat them to the appropriate temperature by stocking the fire. It was bothersome to have to re-vive the fire by hand rather than a burst of her own fire.
In the wild, she'd use her breath to do so. They'd be kept on a fire or bed of coals in the center of the nest. And effectively, that's what she's mimicked here. The nest surrounds the fireplace, fanning out from it in a half-circle.
It's clear where she sleeps. She's pulled her mattress from its frame onto the edge of the nest, and as the fire in the fireplace rekindled, she settled on the mattress to watch the eggs closely. Devera had not noticed Ragnar following her back to her room, and as she settled in front of the fireplace, watching the flames as if lulled into a calm disassociation, the knock on her door does not startle her. She doesn't hear it.
06-19-2023, 08:28 PM
