Fiery Dragon, Icy Drake
Nov 10, 2013 14:22:25 GMT -5
Post by Lord Spencer Lancaster on Nov 10, 2013 14:22:25 GMT -5
Dismissed by the King from the council meeting, Spencer knew he needed to act swiftly. Daven's display of temper in the pavilion was only an ember compared to the true fire of the Dragon, and if he did not find a place or a means to vent that temper, there would be no telling the damage that could be done. He moved in concert with his companion, the better to divert his path and find a means whereby Daven could rage in peace without unwanted interruption. Seizing his arm, Spencer spoke low and swift. "Not here. Come with me, and we will talk where none can hear us."
He did not wait for a reply, nor did he brook any argument or resistance, but kept his grip firm on Daven's arm with a look exchanged between them that promised it would be better not to refute his less than polite invitation. The pace through the camp was fast, their strides devouring the ground without looking as if they were doing more than taking a cordial stroll, but he knew he would come in for his fair share of dragon's fire when they reached the lake shore. It would be worth it, Spencer knew, if only to spare the Dragon's family and the Dragon himself the public chastisement for his actions.
Only once he felt the first softening of the soil under his feet did Spencer release Daven or slow his pace, trusting they were far enough out of harm's way that the man could shout his head off without fear of recompense. Standing back, Spencer braced himself against any sort of strike aimed at his face or his gut, deeming it worth the price. "Say whatever you need to, hit me if you must, but get it out, St. Claire. I'm ready for whatever it is."
Lord Daven St. Claire