Gareth watched in wonder as she opened up the large, heavy doors. He wasn't sure what mechanism they worked on or if they were magic themselves, but relatively little exertion on Winter's part pulled them open effortlessly. "Not that odd," he replied to her as Gareth followed Winter inside. She seemed even more like a Dragon here, in some ways, than she had when she'd carried them on her back to and from her homeland. She was alien, strange and new. Fascinating. And it helped that the crystalline lights threw a beautiful light on her figure.
It grew warmer, not colder as they went deeper into the earth. And all at once they were in what must have been the main room, and he heard it as well as felt it: a warmth hung in the chamber, and a steady stream of small noises. Tiny wyrmlings cooed and yawned, while their parents breathed rhythmically. Winter went straight to a nearby sleeping baby, but there was too much for Gareth to take in at once.
He stood there, awed by the majesty of the chamber. His hand reached up, trembling, then falling. "It's..." he breathed, taking in the many crystal-like eggs and the vague shapes that floated within them, taking in the mother Dragons sleeping peacefully, taking in the carefully sculpted walls and the well-tended nests, taking in the winding white tree that grew from the base of the mountain. "...beautiful," he finished. And there were tears in his eyes.
Gareth's reaction was a surprise to her, but not an unpleasant one. Seeing something so pure, a reaction so honest, it took her breath from her-- not for the first time. A soft, fluttering breath escaping as she allowed a smile to bloom on her face. Something warm, soft and gentle. Approaching him, her touch is gentle as she lightly brushes against his shoulder, and then up, almost cupping his face before she thinks better of it and pulls back; nodding. "It's one of my favorite places, honestly."
She looked down, sheepish, before tucking some hair behind her ear. "I hoped you'd like it." She turned her gaze onto the nearby nest of already hatched wyrmlings. The little things all coiled around each other; tucked contentedly into a little messy pile with tiny, tired breaths puffing out. The occasional teeny yawn escaping here or there. One or two shifting to get better nestled amongst it's kin, the warmth shared between the little ones.
He was so absorbed in the scene, so drawn in by the mystical sights before his eyes that Winter's touch came as a complete surprise to him. He jumped a few inches and turned to her, willing his heart to slow down enough for him to breathe again. It must have been the surprise that made his heart race: it couldn't have been just how close Winter had come, just how far her hands had reached towards him. But whatever she'd intended to do with them was forgotten and he faced her with a soft smile.
"I do," he answered her, and excitement was evident in every part of him, from the set of his shoulders to the light in his eyes. "I'm surprised you'd ever venture outside, when it's like... this," he gestured at the room. At the sleeping babies, at the protective mothers, at the crystalline spires.
"Was it here you were born?" he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb any of the sleeping youngsters.
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And it helped that the crystalline lights threw a beautiful light on her figure.
It grew warmer, not colder as they went deeper into the earth. And all at once they were in what must have been the main room, and he heard it as well as felt it: a warmth hung in the chamber, and a steady stream of small noises. Tiny wyrmlings cooed and yawned, while their parents breathed rhythmically. Winter went straight to a nearby sleeping baby, but there was too much for Gareth to take in at once.
He stood there, awed by the majesty of the chamber. His hand reached up, trembling, then falling. "It's..." he breathed, taking in the many crystal-like eggs and the vague shapes that floated within them, taking in the mother Dragons sleeping peacefully, taking in the carefully sculpted walls and the well-tended nests, taking in the winding white tree that grew from the base of the mountain.
"...beautiful," he finished. And there were tears in his eyes.
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She looked down, sheepish, before tucking some hair behind her ear. "I hoped you'd like it." She turned her gaze onto the nearby nest of already hatched wyrmlings. The little things all coiled around each other; tucked contentedly into a little messy pile with tiny, tired breaths puffing out. The occasional teeny yawn escaping here or there. One or two shifting to get better nestled amongst it's kin, the warmth shared between the little ones.
"It always felt most at home."
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"I do," he answered her, and excitement was evident in every part of him, from the set of his shoulders to the light in his eyes. "I'm surprised you'd ever venture outside, when it's like... this," he gestured at the room. At the sleeping babies, at the protective mothers, at the crystalline spires.
"Was it here you were born?" he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb any of the sleeping youngsters.