Dorant accepted the child into his arms, holding her and supporting her as though she were as delicate and fragile as a dewdrop on the tip of a leaf. He was vaguely aware of the swirl of emotions coming from the woman across from him, but his focused was directed on the swaddled child. He raised a hand, the clawed appendage of a dragon in human form, and held it over little Laraday’s belly. Then he focused on the ocean within, and focused its power into the palm of his unclawed hand, causing a soft, warm, blue light to shed from his form and waft over Shahazen’s daughter and wreathe her in the Goddess’s affection. She was a tiny thing, but Dorant knew who she was, and it didn’t matter that she was so new compared to his ancience. It didn’t matter that she was no dragon. He found he cared for the babe, as much as he cared for every swirling intelligence in the convocations of water dragons from whence he came. He smiled down at her as he breathing deepened and she fell even more securely into slumber. The lovely dear knew the power of her Mother.<br/><br/>Just then, Marlon was baring herself to him as an Allende, which amused him following on the heels of her mocking his present situation with Crianxiiliathellendra and dropping her eyes to the appendage she slandered. He slid his eyes up from the child, across the crib, then along each and every curve of her body until he reached the center of her eyes with a gaze deeper than all the ocean’s combined. In his irises swam the unending tides, and waves of amusement swelled so large as to cover the earth entirely under their tumultuous crash. His lips parted, still cradling Laraday in his arms, and he drew a leisurely breath to answer her comments. “Marlon, it seems you know well the business of your kind, but you do not know that of mine. It is true that I serve a female, but my Mistress is not the female you saw me following. She is grand beyond speaking, even as all the tides of the sea. She is above us all, and her depths go below us all. Her existence was never reliant on minds so puny as ours, and it never will be. She does not need your belief, neither does she desire it. I am High Priest. While there are in fact High Priestesses as well, our service is to our Goddess, and none so small as one individual, regardless of how powerful or black they may be.”<br/><br/>Then Dorantanton, High Priest of Shahazen, lay the babe back down in her crib, and calmly strode as the humans do to directly behind the Loremaster, and spoke in a voice so deep, low, slow and rough that the earth shook below their feet as the sound of it resonated through creation. “Marlon, I find such rumors as you mention to be quite ridiculous, and obviously false.” Then his shift his voice so that it only reverberated through the water held in the form of Marlon’s body. “However, should you desire to become more intimately acquainted with my ‘most important parts,’ all you need do is ask. Then I promise you, surprise will grip you as never before.” Then Dorant continued around to the other side of the woman, reached down into the crib to touch the auric glow that had clung to the child, holding her in perfect stillness and quiet. The blue energy flowed back into him, and the child cooed contentedly in her sleep.<br/><br/>The dragon looked up, gave Marlon a toothy grin that went far, far beyond human, then strode out of the nursery with the still ocean’s serenity draping his entire form.<br/><br/>~~~<br/><br/>Crianxiiliathellendra watched in silence as Miri Ora Sur tended to the injured man. She saw the way Miri threw herself into the work, losing herself entirely in her healers’ focus and casting off the influence of Cria’s seduction. She admired that. Miri had power. The power of self-control, self-governance, self-respect. Of course she did. Lolae chose her Gifted well. To the dragon’s eyes, the man bled black death out all over the floor as his essence seeped from his wound. As Miri worked, the flow stopped, and his entire attention locked on the way she held his life in her hands. Miri smiled, deeply, intimately satisfied. That was right. Miri could deny it, but death already heeded her word, whether she called its Name or not.<br/><br/>Miri’s shadow was silent as she made her rounds, but never far away. Her dark eyes took in every movement, every breath, every decision. Then, she stood from a badly beaten woman to lean against a wall, her complete exhaustion showing on her face. That was Crianxiiliathellendra moved in once more. She closed the distance from Miri’s side, within sight, but off an angle so Miri would not need to refocus her eyes to see the dragon’s approach. She slipped her hands around the younger woman’s sides as she pressed up against the Head of the House, drew a finger up her torso, over the black pearl at over her heart, up her neck, then used it to lift the exhausted woman’s chin, and leaned in to kiss Miri full on the lips.<br/><br/>She pressed her black tiers to Miri’s panting, parted mouth, but did not invade. Instead, she brushed her lips over Miri’s as a lover would, soft caresses and beckoning squeezes. She pulled playfully at Miri’s upper lip, holding it within both of her own, and then finally, she released with her lips and flicked her forked tongue in precise, intricate lines over Miri’s sensitized flesh. With that contact, the pearl flared, and energy surged into Miri, white, and ebullient, full of power and life. Not a whisper of the dark promise of death, but a surge of pure vitality thundered into her, filled her up, and banished her exhaustion.<br/><br/>Then, without saying a word, Crianxiiliathellendra held up a casting of her power. It was as a mirror, a plane of energy that served as a lens, completely separate from both of their bodies, even as Cria rested her hips alongside Miri’s. Through the lens, the black of death was visible, seeping from the wounded bodies. Cria curled and twisted the hand under the mirror into arcane seals, then tiny orbs of soul rose visibly from each patient, and each one of them showed different levels of brightness, strength, size, vivacity, and ever so slight variations in hue. They throbbed, as hearts, and by their movements it was clear which were strongest, and which needed the most immediate attention.<br/><br/>Cria shifted her gaze to Miri’s eyes, then down to the pendant, which she lifted with the other hand. She inhaled, as though sucking in the power of the pearl, though it showed a less-than-negligible change in energy, then she breathed out through the mirror and tendrils of power wrapped around each of the beating hearts. They were tender, caressing with gentle care, and conscientious of the care with which Miri had tended them. In the embrace of Cria’s power, none of them slipped any closer to death. Those in mortal pain fell into silent, dreamless slumber, and those bearing their pain stoically breathed easily for the first time since arriving at the House. They were not healed, they were merely suspended, and held safe. The tendrils themselves were only visible through the lens that Cria held up for Miri, offering Miri her Death Dragon’s Eyes.<br/><br/>The dragoness turned her attention back to Miri, and her voice traveled no further than to Miri’s ears. “I heard you. I know your mind. I know do you do not wish them saved by power beyond mortal ken. But now I have seen your mercy, and I desire your favor. I am not hostile toward you, Miri Ora Sur, not in the least, nor the House which you serve. I do wonder, precious one, whom you allow to serve you, as you have served all of these.”