Hatchling

Coldly Charming, the Ceramist and the Doctor

The grass crunched underfoot, as a small group trudged over the serene plains and the soil was damper than normal because heavy downpour was normal in such areas resulting in the ground being slightly springy with each step. The air was cool and crisp as the result of one of the regular torrents, it cut at the fifteen-year-old boy's lungs with each intake of breath. Fundy adjusted his cap over his ears to protect them from the cold.

The grass eventually faded into a path that hand-railed a small river, the water was clear and reflected the sky above in all its blue-grey glory. Underneath the rushing sound of the river, the faint grinding of stone against wood was picked up by the aburn ears that sat atop his head despite being at the back of the small group.

Leading the group, his father made a noise of sight interest but he couldn't see what had piqued the man's intrigue. Walking slightly faster, he inconspicuously overtook his father's friend, Niki, and a bald man who he knew as Jack, where he caught sight of an oddly shaped house, or rather a group of oddly shaped houses around what seemed to be some sort of garden.

They were one storey high, the rooves tiled in an unseen curved shape with polished Blackstone cut into tiles, the building itself was set on an andesite foundation which complemented the general aesthetic of the houses, the house seemed to be split into different sections as each house was connected to the others in one way or another but what interested Fundy more was the young-looking woman, in similar garb to his grandfather, sat on a plush purple cushion with a desk set out in front of them.

Tilting his head slightly, he watched as the woman dipped a thin bamboo stick into a pot of ink and slowly etched out foreign characters onto a golden-yellow piece of rectangular fabric. The letters that were being ingrained onto the small cloth were stacked one on top of another rather than being settled next to each other, they seemed mostly to be comprised of ramrod-straight lines, on the odd occasion curving to make a steep ramp and Fundy didn't recognise a single word.

The woman finished the last letter with a flourish and examined it, seemingly satisfied. When she saw the group staring at her, she merely raised an eyebrow and somehow managed to look disinterested.

"Can I help you?" she said blandly pushing herself back and getting up from her sitting position.

Jack coughed awkwardly as Niki said nothing and stared blankly at the woman. It was understandable as she was stunning in an intense way like how one might be captivated by a blizzard peacefully raging outside in winter. Black hair paired with her cool magenta eyes and her tall stature gave her the looks of an ice sculpture and he remembered Philza, his grandfather, had seen many in the cold tundras he had helped pull an empire from.

She had a hanfu similar in style to Phil's but it was more ornate, with midnight black cloth woven with subtle strands of silver making it sparkle slightly in the cold sun. Around her waist, was a sleek black scabbard tied with deep purple belt clips that were a shade darker than her eyes. His father seemed to be interested in the ornate grey scabbard, the silver alloy that was moulded with fine care and detail had a faint glow to it which indicated that it had many complicated enchantments applied to it.

He watched his uncle, a well-known war veteran, raise his eyebrows in surprise as his widened eyes read the glow being emitted by the weapon's sheath. If the enchantment on the sheath was this effective, what were the enchantments on the sword like?

At the silence of the members of his group, fundy stepped up. "Do you know where the nearest village is?"

"Yes, I do," She tilted her head slightly and smiled slightly. "I have something I need to attend to there. You're welcome to join me on my way if so you wish,"