Unexpected Repercussions (Tenebris)

The detail the obsidian dragoness had been sent on was boring to say the least. Sit and watch, anything moves investigate, no more and no less. Shira despised being the grunt of the ranks, her icy orbs narrowed as she used her vision to pierce through the vast darkness before her. It had been many days now that she had been placed on this perch, much to her dismay, causing a deep sigh to escape from Shira’s nostrils. Boredom was not nearly descriptive enough to explain her emotions, though she was fully relieved from cleaning duty when she made more of a mess than before. Though what did they expect? Leaving her unsupervised in an empty hall with such amazing acoustics, she just had to sing. Her dancing was much more to blame than her vocalizations, causing her to knock over a lantern and in turn begin burning a tapestry. With a sharp scoff, Shira swayed her long tail in a dismissive manner.

All night she had to endure this torture, no one near her and no one to allow her to use her sharp comments on. Soon a smooth thrum came from her throat melodically but she shook her head, forcing the urge back down into her gullet where it had originated. Hoping for a distraction, she turned her eyes to the sparkling sky, the stars reflecting in her wide orbs as the moon danced off of her scales in a shimmering manner. This was her one and only enjoyment when she was on this detail, the sole thing that kept her mind busy. Soon her tail began to sway as the song she had been attempting to keep down began playing in her mind, head swaying gently in turn before she snapped herself off of the ledge of giving in. ‘Maybe a bit of a walk will suppress this urge to make a fool of myself?’ She thought to herself, smiling before delicately leaping down from her perch, spreading her wings to stop herself before landing delicately on the ground, wind from her landing pushing the blades of grass away from her in a swaying manner. She inhaled the sweet air before padding forward, her footfall silenced by their soft cushion of the grass. Her long tail swayed behind her as she entered the trees, sliding along the rough bark as her scales pulled a bit of bark off of each tree. Her keen eyes searched the area for intruders, though she knew there were none that night. Who would dare?

Shira paced around the small batch of trees she was guarded to watch for intruders just outside of the Citadel. Soon, her body began to move in a dancing manner, her slender frame circling the trees as she moved off of them with a flap of her wings. She would then spiral through the air gently before landing with a soft ‘thud’. It wasn’t long before she gave into her desires and a melodic tune ruptured from her throat. It was something her mother had taught her when she was young: A young dragoness caught between home and a love for wandering, searching for a lover to take her away. Soon old draconic words fell from her mouth in an octave not often heard amongst dragons but revered none-the-less. Sought after by any who enjoyed the art of ballads, though she never explored this and wasn’t tempted to no matter how much she enjoyed doing it when no one was looking.

Her voice grew louder as she spun through the air on occasion, her foot work light as her wings helped lift her from the ground, the beat her paws provided matching her words. Soon a translation slid smoothly from her throat, the sound angelic in nature as it echoed slightly amongst the dark trees. She was enjoying herself, imagining dancing through the halls aside a dark drake, his handsome features a cause of jealousy with the other dragonesses only making her that much more pride filled. Her eyes were closed as she used the vibrations of her voice to judge where the trees were. But this was her first mistake: She was no bat.

Shira’s flank caught a tree on her final spin, shaking the slender trunk as a chorus of startled squackes met her ears, causing her singing to cease completely before she slammed into the ground with a heavy grunt. Opening her eyes, her body sprawled upon the ground, she released an exasperated huff, blinking angrily at herself before peeling herself from the ground. She looked up as a flock of birds flew from the tree she had splintered, quirking her face in a disapproving manner before humming once more, attempting to lean the tree back to its normal height.

The song began to flow from her mouth after a few moments of attempting to right the tree. She shrugged and moved away from it, her body swaying once more before  a voice shook her from her imaginings,

“Shira!” The Lead Guard bellowed down to her, his anger palpable.

The dragoness froze as her eyes widened, “Yes?” She called back sheepishly, cutting her eyes in the direction the voice originated. Some tracker she was, couldn’t even scent the drake standing up there.

“Come.” He said shortly, causing Shira’s eyes to roll slightly before she turned to make her way back to her post, dreading the flaying she was going to receive.

Once Shira made it to the drake, her manners showing her reluctance before landing before him, lowering her head respectfully, “Sir, I…”

“Don’t!” He snapped, his tail lashing angrily behind him, “Just don’t. How many times do I have to tell you not to start your blasted singing while you are meant to be working? I mean, that is the purpose of you being here right, to work?”

“Yes sir, but..”

“Silence, Shira!” The lead guard snapped once more, taking a step closer, “I have made a decision that will benefit myself and teach you a lesson.You will report to the court hall in the morning. Since you don’t know how to keep those songs inside of you for a down day, we’ll see just how much the Archon himself likes your wanting to sing for work.”

Shira opened her mouth to speak but the lead guard only growled, “My decision is final. You are dismissed from duty.”

The dragoness was devastated as the drake left her, her wings drooping slightly. But the feeling were not long in life as they were soon replaced with simple and pure anger. She stood and snarled angrily, bursting into the night sky to head for her quarters, her paws clenched tightly in detest. Upon reaching her personal quarters, she burst into the room before pacing, her claws scraping against the stone, “How dare he do this to me?!” She hissed, her tail smacking against the wall in an aggressive manner. She paced for a bit longer before deciding to curl up on her bed, still fuming as she forced her eyes shut. This was, in entirety, embarrassing for the dragoness. She wanted to meet the Archon but not in this manner. What if he didn’t like her singing and shamed her for it? Where would she be then?

The next morning came and she landed silently in front of the Citadel, her pace slow as she approached the doors, dreading every moment as a feeling of nervousness rose up within her gullet. Singing. In front of the Archon himself? She was likely to faint, or simply die. Pushing the thoughts aside, she made her way up the stairs, knowing flying would be much faster but she didn’t wish to get there quickly. Once she made her way into the grand hall, her eyes took in the glorious sights that not many of her rank would see. The glorious formations of marble, the tapestries, the gloriously colorful glass work on each window. She inhaled deeply, taking in the glorious scents she only imagined the wealthy could appreciate.

After her moments of observing the brilliance around her, her eyes fell upon the group of Nightwings that she knew were the musical excellence in the Nightwing tribe, knowing many of them personally. She released her deep inhale with a soft groan before making her way toward the group, ignoring the surprised greetings she received. She nodded softly to the coordinator before staring forward, listening to each song that was listed, knowing them all thanks to her mother. She cursed inwardly at her mother’s influence, but then again it was because of her that Shira had been coached to advance her voice to a level that was hard to achieve normally. But it was also thanks to her that she was where she is now.

With a silent sigh, she nodded to the coordinator upon his question of her knowledge of the dynamics of the song and releasing the high thrum her mother was so proud of. The sound echoed beautifully around the room, marvelling at the acoustics of the room before looking to the others, flashing a smile before it faded, flicking her tail behind her before looking forward. She enjoyed being in the lime light, though not for this reason she had found herself in. The coordinator moved her to the center of the group and she begrudgingly obliged, though only because she was here to follow orders. But soon, the time would come for her to sing in front of not only the high ranking officials she wanted so desperately to impress but the Archon himself. A shudder rocked her frame as her inner being writhed in the pain of her embarrassment.

Within the next hour, the group practicing and Shira’s voice flowing beautifully above them all was simply mesmerizing, the first of the high ranking officials making his way into the hall. Shira’s heart dropped, this was it.

Tenebris found himself in the crepuscular obsidian chamber of his secluded study at the apex of the tower within the private wing of the Onyx Citadel, it was here that he would allow himself to fall into melancholy to contemplate and brood in a sympathy of lethargic musings as he delved into old manuscripts and scrolls, it was the bitter reality what struck Tenebris that what remained was but a fraction of the knowledge once stored within the magisterium at the Nightwings Capital upon the mainland. Even with his collection of personal records and the two libraries what were housed within separate wings of the Citadel at Shadows Refuge, it was a somber thought that what remained paled to the abundance of knowledge which was lost with the mainland. Acutely aware Tenebris pondered with a long drawn out sigh just how long it would be until Nightwings and Dragons as a whole would regress and deteriorate over time, even now the Tribes were but shadows of their former selves, and it remained Tenebris’s greatest fear that there would be a lapse over time what would reduce Dragonkind to little more than feral beasts.

The period of reflect and intense thought was disturbed as a voice rung out from his chamber, “Your Grace”. The voice was instantly recognisable and Tenebris couldn’t restrain his grunt of disapproval as he pulled himself to his feet, he knew who awaited outside was his Chamberlain and Steward, Syrus. Syrus was both young for his role and predominantly small, he was not much larger in size that Tenebris’s two hatchling daughters. The Chamberlain was new to his role as a whole only taking the position after his late father Vier was counted among the dead after the Monster Scourge destroyed the Mainland capital. The fact despite his competence he was a shadow of the administrator and curator his father was, and along with his whimpering nasal voice ensured he was always a source of frustration for the Archon. It was also a reminder of Tenebris’s duties, and thus he had to leave his contemplation's and scrolls, being a Scholar at heart, this was always the greatest heresy of the day, having to be brought back to the reality of the world.

While Hastur and Seth, the Archon’s personal inquisitors and bodyguards prevented any from entering the chamber, it was the Stewards privilege that Syrus was the only member outside of the royal family who could freely enter the Archon's study without expressed permission or a summons. To this end in was a mild annoyance that he still awaited Tenebris’s call to enter, a matter in which while the Archon respected the punctuality, he desired the steward had the gall and personal courage to at least enter his liege’s presence without a request like his late father. Turning to face the entrance, elegantly, Tenebris spoke in his usual regal yet domineering manner, “Enter, chamberlain”, the diminutive Nightwing entered with a largely exaggerated power, “Your Grace, the court is assembling, they will be awaiting your presence”. Tenebris released a small snarl under his breath in scorn at himself, he truly had lost himself in his musings, he had lost track of the time, and it found himself debating to himself truly how he lost such time in his scrolls. “Then, we make haste, Chamberlain”, as Tenebris began to move, Syrus placed himself between Tenebris and the chamber entrance “My Grace, if you would allow me, I have brought several slaves to prepare your presence before you present yourselves to your most loyal vassals”. Of course, Tenebris thought, he lacked any of his marks of office and wore nothing of note, while it wasn’t a desirable or comfortable arrangement he certainly understood the need that he could not appear in the slightest common to those of his court, as loyal as they may be, they would take acute notice of any weakness or weariness in their Archon, even if it was in appearance.

With the word granted, the Chamberlain banged his tail against the obsidian floor, and three Manticores entered the chamber, along with now Hastur and Seth whose constant observant scrutiny remained upon the creatures without falter. The next few moments while Tenebris lowered his rear to a seated position, the Manticores placed the official ceremonial adornments upon him while Syrus began to reiterate the proceedings and itinerary of the Court session. Tenebris was also made aware of a new face what would be appearing in the court, a new addition to the choir and musicians what provided the entertainment to throughout the the tedious processing to break up the tiresome fatiguing talks what would proceed. Such new additions and faces had become accustomed within court, all part of the great game played by many of the officials within the Nightwing Potentate to gain influence, by forcing someone to present themselves within the court with a special artisan trade or skill served as a means of rather shaming the Dragon should they perform insufficient enough, or grant them and their benefactor who recommended them, or rather forced them, influence and favour from Tenebris himself and the rest of the court.

By the time both Syrus had completed his addressing of how the session would transpire per usual and the servants had finished with their garb upon Tenebris, the Archon was now wearing a regal Silver Cuirass with fitted pauldrons upon his shoulders, the Silver was clearly for ceremonial purposes and lacked any element of true productivity, yet it was forged not by the Tribe’s greatest Vulcans during the height of the Imperium, but also through Alchemic fire, giving a distinctive pattern of banding and mottling to be reminiscent of flowing water, and engraved with symbolic images and sigils of Nightwing heritage. Tenebris’s horns both had gold rings adorning them, and from his ears chain earrings in a dangle fashion which looped from the tip to the base, while upon his usually ink stained claws were placed gauntlet like extensions which made his already fearsome imposing talons at least a foot longer and crested once more in silver. Finally armoured plating was placed upon his back and tail, in the same stylistic manner as his cuirass. In truth Tenebris found the weight extremely uncomfortable, and desired nothing more than to cast to ceremonial armour from his scales, and merely dictate what he desired of the upper echelon of his Tribe, yet he knew that such occasions were a prominent part of the society which he himself created.

Departing his chamber and making his way to the Grand Hall for the audience, his entourage was lead by the almost enthusiastic small Syrus, and the Archon in the middle flanked either side by the Inquisitors Seth and Hastur which remained silent. The journey from the private wing to the Audience chamber was at best described as weary for Tenebris, he allowed himself to show his limp prominently while under his heavy ceremonial attire while within the private wing, he had no means as to present himself with such upon his arrival upon the hall chamber, but until then he could at least allow his regal stature to falter. It felt as though the walk lasted hours, although it would literally be little more than twenty minutes, as they approached the closed archway of the Hall, Hastur and Seth immediately located themselves to either side as they opened it wide into the audience chamber. Syrus took front and centre stage as he went through the ceremonial introduction. “Presenting his eminence. The Lord Protector of the Ebonwing Isles, Grand Vizier of Twilight Imperium, the Father to the very Moon and Stars. Archon of the Nightwing Potentate. Archon Tenebris”. At that, Syus gave a theatrical bow and moved to the side as Tenebris collected himself, he maintained his graceful ethereal like posture as he made a distinctive effort to hide his limp, with powerful strides born out of purpose as he strode into the hall. He would cast a glance at the faces surrounding the hall, many of whom he truly didn’t know of a first name basis. Many institutions and their leaders were brought to ruin, and now many of these upper members of society were merely replacements, Tenebris thought that many of them were no doubt mere novices in their respected fields until their instructors and Lords had fallen.

Taking up his position on the raised dais he sat, allowing all in the chamber to raise their heads as was custom after the initial entrance. “Brothers and Sisters, we gather once more here as kin. As you are all aware my motives have and always will be to be achieving the greater good. It is we of our breed who are bound to furfill the ancient duty bestowed upon us by the creator God Shadras himself. It is we who will strive and sacrifice for unity within not only our tribe but all Dragonkind. To that end, you all know of my desires to conduct the Festival of Night, and allow all to venture here to our refuge”, Tenebris rose his Silver gilded talons in their gauntlet on his right forepaw as if expecting to be interrupted yet he knew better, but the gesture still made its point “I would here this debate here and now in an open dialogue amongst us, but we do so as equals. Brothers and sisters. First however, I believe I speak for us all when I state, some much needed entertainment would be welcomed”. At that Tenebris tore his attention away from the assembled officials and to the coordinator of the assembled group of artists, and give a humble nod as a gesture for them to begin with their first performance.

[This is Shira's reply, I'm just transferring her post from Discord]


As the great Archon entered the hall, her blue orbs fell upon the others around her as they humbly dipped their head in reverence to his power, she did the same. Her finely boned head and delicately arched neck holding low as she kept her eyes upon the stone floor. She followed each dip and curl in the obsidion color, her ears capturing his words and she truly wondered just how much of meeting the entertainment heard and how sworn they were to the secrecy of the gatherings they sat in each time. The allure was too much for the dragoness to handle as she lifted her gaze on occasion to view the mighty drake as he sat upon his well earned seat, each piece of ceremonial jewelry a brilliant contrast to his shadowed color. It was no wonder all listened with eager ears to his words, his voice was sultry yet hypnotizing as it lulled along the air in a commanding song. As his attention idly moved to her coordinator, she quickly lowered her eyes back to the floor while a tendril of fear shot through her entire being. How much of a fool she must look to the others that she had trained with. With caution, she lifted her eyes to view the minimal guards standing within the confines of the hall, one of whom caught her eye and she was forced to look away from his steel gaze. This was utterly the worst moment of her life.


At the command to begin their song, Shira inhaled deeply and lifted her head with the others, her long tail tightening around her haunches as she stared at the far wall, avoiding contact with any that onlooked as she had been instructed and this time alone, she would listen to commands given. The coordinator nodded to the group and looked directly at Shira, glaring slightly at her as he awaited her to begin and lead the group in their song. She grimaced slightly, her thin lip curling over her teeth in a slight manner before she opened her maw to begin. The sound that came from within her expanded throat rang and echoed beautifully, her eyes closing as she focused on the words that fell from her, each diction, each rise and fall of inflection perfect to the olden words she spoke. The others kept up and fell into place with their sections, their words similar but not as well formed and pronounced as Shira's own. Halfway into the song, she opened her eyes and stared forward, the emotion the song portrayed truly affecting her. She shifted her front paws and began the increased volume the song called for, the others following her flawlessly as they looked to her. One other dragoness that sat beside her holding a hint of jealousy to Shira's **** dedication to the words ringing elegantly from her maw. That specific dragoness had been known as the best of the group and now, this outsider. This tactless dragoness comes and steals her spotlight. Shira felt the abhored stare and smiled in her song, her shoulders swaying as she finally began to relax, getting lost in the lyrics and chilling harmonizing. Her dark scales shimmered in the low light due to her movement, ignoring the threatening stare of her coordinator, the drake not willing to risk his position due to one un-disciplined dragoness transferred to him on puhishment, despite the beauty of her voice.


Shira soon ended the song before closing her maw, listening for the drake in the male group to begin the next song. She inhaled deeply and avoided the eyes of the gathering both beside and in front of her. She may have been doing something odd, but she refused to simply grin and bear it anymore. If she were to take her punishment, she would take it and feign happiness to show her stubborness to being castised. This was humiliating to a dragoness of her standing, yes, but she would not allow herself to show her distaste. Afterall, a showman never shows distaste, no matter how much they hate it. So she would put on a show, if that's what they wanted, and do it well. Her mother had taught her many things but the one thing she drilled into her mind was never be ashamed for who she was. And she would not start now, so here she was. If they didn't like it, she was sure to hear about it later in closed quarters with threats of beatings and ripping her wings off as she had heard many times before but here she was with her wings still in tact and not a scale missing from her hide.

Tenebris slowly closed his eyes in imposing presence relaxed, like so many court sessions before he would listen in silence to the soothing notes of the choir in the proximity of the royal court. It was a tradition which has now embedded it into the very culture and customs of such courtly proceedings, the truth was that while Tenebris has originally purposely designed and allowed such to take place they had become tedious to him. With his weary eyes closed he allowed himself peace, these brief interludes were used now merely as a respite for the Archon to collect his thoughts and contemplate the intrigues of those within his very retinue. It was in this peace that the Archon, with his eyes closed could embrace darkness, the pure black of his closed eyelids was so similar to the dark of the Night which defined Nightwing society and culture, it is comfort, and like the night sky the darkness served as a blanket of generous velvet that allows peace and clarity to permeate the serenity of ones internal musings. The blackness was perfect for the Archon, despite knowing that the serenade would soon begin, the very moment of closing his eyes was a sort of visual silence that gave a revered awe, a simple sweetness of existing and of breathing, away from all the chaos and turmoil of the world, away from the nightmares what disrupt the Archons once peaceful sleeps, this now was his rest, his tranquility.

The internal musings of Tenebris’s peace was broken however, even as the rest of the court turned their attentions fully to Shira as her melody began. The Archon was somewhat visibly shaken as the intoxicating rhythmic chant of Shira filled the large auditorium, the lyrics of her song swimming through his cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream, the notes radiating through his entire body as though the song called to his entire being. Tenebris opened up his shrewd sapphire eyes as they found the source of who he identified as the lead singer, his baleful glare fixated upon Shira without falter. The music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling the holes in beach sand, the sound rushing in and around every Dragon within the grand hall. It would be intoxicating, some of the Ebonwing aristocracy even reacting to the beat, swaying this way and that, other whispering in muted awe. Each of those within the hall are spoken to in some manner by the powerful notes emitted from Shira, Tenebris himself breaking his usual stoic and apathetic demeanour as he seems to relax his muscles, his spirit seemingly elevated as he seems captured by the entrancing Shira.

Tenebris swayed with the music seemingly enchanted, feeling as though through the song sung by the Dragoness his soul felt his mortal body in a magical flight to the heavens, a breathtaking melody of orchestral exuberance. As the crescendo of the song hit his very being felt as though it had dived back to his form. The Archon felt almost giddy, his breath stolen by Shira and her song, as the room fell to silence. Tenebris knew that this journey that just held him spellbound was shared by all those in attendance of his retinue. Tenebris spurred himself into movement as he rose, towering across the hall from his high raised dais, it took a moment for his jaw which was opened in awe to close and he recovered himself, first with a nod to the coordinator and then with his eyes narrowed in an ethereal glare at Shira, the usual solemn no moving Archon slammed his tail heavily on his dais in an applause. The court all at once turned to Tenebris, their expressions one of shock, never having experienced the Archon so visibly acknowledging the beauty and power of one of the court choirs, then as one like a tsunami assault erupted from the audience.

Turning his gaze from Shira, Tenebris would once more collect himself as he sat upon the Dias, while the applause died down the Archon would wave the Chamberlain to his immediate presence. The slender sleek Nightwing would snake his way across the hall, leaning in to his Archon. “Syrus… That one, once this session comes to a close, have her meet me in the parlour, I desire to speak with her in confidence”, said Tenebris, his voice just above this own breath in a whisper as he gestured with one of his silver encased talons extended towards Shira. He would keep his gaze once more upon her with an emotionless expression before turning to the retinue, the Archon would call for order and then see about the rest of the court session. Upon its close, the Archon would be the first to leave, departing through one of the auxiliary wings beside the throne to the parlour. Before then the rest of the Nightwing nobles are led away by enslaved Manticores. The choir would be the last to be dismissed, however, the Chamberlain Syrus would appear before the coordinator, flanked by none other than the Archon’s personal Inquisitors Hastur and Seth. “Your lead singer. She is to come with me. His grace, Archon Tenebris demands her immediate presence. Once you dismiss her, his Lordship’s Inquisitors will escort her for an audience. I advise you do not tarry, say what you must to her, then she will be brought before his eminence”, the sly Chamberlain would then turn to Shira, staring at her direct “I suspect you do not know the correct procedure and protocol of address for his grace. Nonetheless though, when you meet him, bow first as you enter then again as you approach his majesty, then as I will not be present, it is prudent you announce yourself accordingly”. With that, the Chamberlain turned, taking his leave. Hastur and Seth, remaining silent and expressionless would remain as though statues awaiting the coordinator to dismiss Shira and then bring her before the Archon.

With the Chamberlain Syrus, taking his leave it was both Hastur and Seth, the personal Inquisitors and Royal Guards of the Archon who led Shira in silence to one of the conjoining wings of the Grand Hall, they positioned themselves either side of the door. It was Hastur with a grim and sour expression what gave an incline of his head as a gesture for Shira to continue on through the doors without the continued company of the two Guards. The Double doors what lead to the parlor were cast in a dark tinted iron, the wood of which appear old and ancient like much of the Citadel as a whole.

The parlour itself, like the Grand hall was the epitome Nightwing Architecture. While many throughout the world would compare the such architecture with a Obsidian stone, which has been built through the use of liquefying and reshaping stone by which means could only be attributed to the subtle arcane arts, sorcery and skill held by the highest cabals of the Nightwing Tribe throughout history. The Light within the galley was produced by Wall sconces what resembled stone carvings of a Dragons talons grasping the fire burning within. The room resembled more of a museum, clearly this being where the Archon would host dignitaries and the highest of his inner circle, around the room there was macabre oddities ranging from Skeletons of fellow Dragons to taxidermied basilisks, cockatrices, thunder hawks and more lesser species, intriguing many of these curiosities would have plaques designating names and notable actions of the individuals.

Between the high slim pillars which were decorated in runic designs, under the arched ceiling of the centre there was a collection of polished onyx outcroppings which served as furnishings. Upon one of these was the Archon, laid somewhat informally with his talons crossed over one another, he no longer wore his gilded gauntlet like extensions upon his claws, however he still wore the cuirass and other such accessories. His posture and demeanour was relaxed and notably with Hastur and Seth outside now protecting the entrance from the outside Tenebris was alone in this galley, surrounded by only the antiques of ages past and the taxidermied lesser races who seemed to watch on in their eerie stare from beyond the grave from around the outside walls of the parlor.

Tenebris slowly raised his head as he heard Shira enter into his presence, the door closing behind her thanks to the efforts of Hastur. The Archon watched her intently through his solemn stare, making no effort to rise to take up a more authoritative posture, instead he continued to lay almost in a passive lethargic manner. Tenebris wondered what was going through Shira's head, she was not the first to be brought before him in a private audience, nor would she be the last, for the Archon found it was only in these personal conversations that one could express themselves freely, that was a fact even for Tenebris himself. His claws twitched this way and that, he felt no need for protect yet the fact remained there would always be opportunist young dragons and there was always the possibility of a a wannabe idealistic naive martyr who would be driven despite the consequences to remove Tenebris from power.

To that end he merely energised some of the hidden protective wards which were woven into the very air of the room, feeling the slight static in the air, he'd then allow an almost uncharacteristic snicker under his breath as he gave a grin towards Shira, however due to the mutilated scars upon his visage despite his best efforts of a warm smile, his features would contort and twist into more of a sadistic wolfish sneer on the right side of his maw. "May I congratulate you", He paused for the briefest moment, as he recalled the name Shira spoken of by chamberlain previously, "Shira, yes? Come join me, relax yourself, I wish for us to speak in confidence, there are no need for formalities here".

The Archon watched with mild amusement as he noticed Shira examining the chamber as she entered, few even amongst the Nightwings ever saw more than merely the audience hall of the Citadel despite it being a monument of culture, history and power what represented the Nightwings at their very foundation. His studious gaze never faltered from Shira, examining each of her expressions with purpose, consciously wishing for her to meet his gaze despite internally knowing that her gaze's avoidance from his own was a mark of respect. Tenebris wondered musing to himself what this Dragoness thought, did she feel fear or pride. Many within the court saw their kin outside the citadel as little more than outsiders, weeds in the grander garden which was the Nightwing tribe, yet the Archon knew all to well being one of those weeds himself, that the bees and nature do love weeds, they grow bold and strong, often where least expected and without any golden invitation. Other Ebonwings can't see what weeds are until they bloom, so little attention does their development garner. Yet the fragrance can be aromatic and their nectar as sweet as any other. These weeds bring that creative richness, that smirk of a smile when at last their vibrant petals show, the gifts they have to offer received with gratitude. This Shira, Tenebris thought was one of these weeds, a weed which while others could oversee has clearly blossomed into something spectacular.

Tenebris lowered his head in return to Shira, in a modest return nod of acknowledgement, before watching her lower herself to a comfortable position. Tenebris himself shifted, turning his shrewd glare away from Shira for but the briefest moments while he reached up with his black ink stained talons to remove the silver adornments which hung from his Horns. He continued this as Shira spoke, before slowly returning his attention to her, his expression now returning to its usual solemn stoic expression as he inclined his head to the side as she spoke. "There is no need for any apology, I asked you here due to your performance, it was exemplary. Certainly worthy of praise more than any other who have performed in the past. You have humbled me that your voice has graced my halls", the Archon spoke matter-of-factly as though the comment was a definition from a dictionary which should be known to all.

Tenebris remained once more fixated upon Shira awaiting her reaction before he continued "Know that I was informed why you were asked to perform, as a form of punishment yes? Ironic. Your commanding officer will receive a letter of thanks from my chamberlain baring my seal for bringing you to my attention, yet make no mistake I am not naive enough to know the motives of my subordinates. If you performed poorly it would of been you who would suffer, yet as you performed well, your officer believes we will garner influence from my court. You'll be pleased to know he won't. He can flaunt this letter of thanks around but it will do little, now as for you". The Archon paused as he released a faint sigh under his breath, he knew that his chamberlain would no doubt secretly contest what he was about to declare, however the Archon knew that the Chamberlain would not invite Tenebris's wrath by going against his will. "I have a proposition for you, I invite you to join my court, and my retinue to continue your services. Should you accept, you and your family will reside here in the citadel and you will be welcomed into the fold as an Ebonwing. Do not believe though what I do is simply a kindness, I must also ask a price in return so do not accept hastily, ask any questions you may have, yet the price will come apparent only after you accept my offer".

Tenebris watched Shira intently as she seemed to take in his words and contemplate the possibilities this opportunity no doubt presented, it was a sobering thought for the Archon when he listened to the honeyed words of Shira, one who was acutely aware of the demand asked of her when she spoke of the price. Many Tenebris knew despite his warnings to think of such an offer would immediately jump for the chance to be welcomed into the fold of the Ebonwings. The Archon viewed Shira in a different light, as a soft smile spread across his features, or at least as soft as he could manage given his disfigured visage which often contorted his smile on the right side of his maw. Tenebris had no reservations now after hearing Shira speak, he was confident that she would be an asset in the future one way or another, from only their mere introductions the Archon could tell this Dragoness was no fool and had a shrewd intelligence.

Gesturing with his right foreclaw he'd tap his index talon upon his silver ornate cuirass, before extending his neck closer to Shira, almost in a too relaxed intimate manner "What I would have of you, if that you become an agent of mine. I have not been so isolated from the world around me since I took up the office of Archon that I am ignorant to the intrigues of my court and the ambitions of those who so openly claim fealty to me. The machinations of my underlings are many, some in their blindness to pursue their own agenda's might even come to the foolish idea of deposing me". Tenebris who up until that point had spoke in his usual serious authoritative regal manner suddenly burst into a harsh snicker at the very thought of himself being deposed.

Collecting himself his serpentine tail would move across the floor behind him, almost as though a creature of its own as it explored the onyx like marble floor, before he continued "Should you be an Ebonwing, others will try to use you, they'd believe you mould able to their desires, and I would have you think they can do just that. I want you to join my court and be my instrument, outside of your duties of performances of course. I would also personally see to your adjustment into their foreign concept. As part of my retinue, I would keep you closer than the others, to show you the inner working of the potentate, and to this end let the other courtiers think you know my secrets and the like, they will faunt around you and will no doubt try and convince you to join in their schemes and heresy. You would report such to myself. So then, what say you, Shira of the Ebonwings". Tenebris would then lean back while he allowed a moment for Shira to take account of everything what was spoken, his smile would spread into more of a wider grin, showing his almost uncharacteristic white fangs. So many Ebonwings within his own court forget that Tenebris was one of them, under Gemini and Oculus, he was aware of the tricks used in the many intrigues abound around the throne, and while he knew Shira would be somewhat to bait out those who would seek to remove him even now Tenebris was also looking forward to the company of this Dragoness and her haunting voice.

Tenebris continued to regard Shira with an ingenious light, as the Dragoness seemed to contemplate the words spoken by the Archon. Despite Tenebris's relaxed casual manner he knew far to well the gravity of what he was asking Shira, she would be brought into a completely different world from what she has known and while he did not show it, the Archon felt sympathy for Shira for every gift was usually accompanied by a curse, a fact Tenebris was familiar with from his rise to power, he had to sacrifice so much on the path to the throne and his regrets still haunted him.

Finally Tenebris bowed his head in acknowledgement at Shira's words as his features rested into a soft expression across his maw, it was clear the Dragoness had weighed the situation, and it spurred another question and musing for the Archons mind, the bowls of the Tribe, he had once belonged to it yet it was far different from when he was but a lowly guardian serving his former Queen, he hoped that the tribe had improved yet he wasn't naive enough to believe his reforms had brought an end to every trouble or whim all from the Tribe had, it was far from the flawless utopia he envisioned so long ago as the harshness of realty only ever seemed to cast wretched situation upon his kin.

Taking in Shira's words as she stated accepting the offer, the Archon craned his sinuous neck back. "You honour me by taking up my proposal, now then, take heart as you have stated yourself, it will take time for you to adjust to your new position. To that end, as I have been the one to burden you with the task ahead, I will personally see to your assimilation to life here at the Citadel. As for the tedious matters of having your belongings and your family brought to the Citadel, threat not, I have already sent my Chamberlain with a cadre of servants to your mothers lair to bring her and your effects here, you'll be given residence in the family wing of the Citadel". Tenebris spoke softly as he mused if Shira would realise that he had sent the Chamberlain off to his task without even knowing Shira's response yet. Shifting his posture slightly so he is leaning more onto one side than the other in a passive almost lethargic resting state he'd continue "Now then, I would know my new companion. Tell me Shira, of your life in the -bowls- of our tribe, and who taught you to sing so enchantingly".

Tenebris comfortable and at ease, didn't allow his gaze to falter or fail in the slightest as he remained fixated by Shira, taking her countenance in as he digested her words. Tenebris was oblivious that Shira's father was a Scholar, the idea brought about a sensation of curiosity and longing to know more, as Tenebris himself was a Scholar after his service as a Guardian. At the mention of pleasure within ruins the Archon at first thought nothing of it, but at the mention of adventure memories came flooding back to him. The very same feelings what lead him to becoming a scholar himself, remembering like Shira how he would stalker the ruins of old with his father who spoke with such passion and delight that Tenebris as a youth was consumed. He remembered the first time he had entered with his father, a ruined castle more ancient than any bone left in the soil, the once smooth rock pitted and scarred.

The old man of the hill was what his father called it, stating that it knew how fleeting time is, how soon the present becomes the past and the important becomes the irrelevant. In this hallowed and ancient site the trees have seen the centuries blow past in the winds of each season and witnessed the folly of constant mortal struggles. The walls stood mute, water awaited the call of the wind to ruffle and move as molten glass of deepest green. Grey stone that rose from the land, unapologetic and bold to defy entrance and protect what has been entrusted to their care. Below the uneven patches of grass were artefacts of old, armour and armaments of old that failed to protect the Dragons what had resided there in the past. It was this same Old man on the hill what his father took him too that Tenebris now resided, and it became his refuge, Shadow's Refuge, the very rebuilt Citadel Shira and Tenebris found themselves in. The wave of unintentional emotion Tenebris quickly recovered from, giving a brief blink to compose himself, "I too served in the court of the late Queen Gemini, I was both her councilor and chief Scholar in matters of history. Tell me, what are the names of your parents, there is a good possibility I may already know them".

As Shira positioned herself into a more comfortable position almost in parallel to Tenebris as a mirror image the Archon was engrossed in the tales of Shira as she spoke of her Mother introducing her to the art form of singing and also how her father had inspired her to sing the ballads of old. "Fascinating, I must confess it would seem me and your father were kindred souls, I'm glad he was able to inspire you into learning the serenades of our past. As a hatchling I myself was always consumed by the tales of past, and the ballads of heroes and their feats. One could say it was these very tales past on in song what defined me as a Dragon. If you'd like, there are many manuscripts of written songs within the archives from ages past which have never seen the light of day. Perhaps you could be the one to pioneer the resurface of such canticles. I have had them stored as a means to preserve them, but perhaps I have been short sighted and blissfully ignorant. I have shielded them, but in doing so I am just adding to their silence when they should be heard, I never thought I hear of one who could give them justice in words sung, until I heard you this evening. I can foresee no other fitting voice other than yours to bring forth the words of the past into a concert for all Nightwings to attend and hear".

Tenebris comfortable and at ease, didn't allow his gaze to falter or fail in the slightest as he remained fixated by Shira, taking her countenance in as he digested her words. Tenebris was oblivious that Shira's father was a Scholar, the idea brought about a sensation of curiosity and longing to know more, as Tenebris himself was a Scholar after his service as a Guardian. At the mention of pleasure within ruins the Archon at first thought nothing of it, but at the mention of adventure memories came flooding back to him. The very same feelings what lead him to becoming a scholar himself, remembering like Shira how he would stalker the ruins of old with his father who spoke with such passion and delight that Tenebris as a youth was consumed. He remembered the first time he had entered with his father, a ruined castle more ancient than any bone left in the soil, the once smooth rock pitted and scarred.

The old man of the hill was what his father called it, stating that it knew how fleeting time is, how soon the present becomes the past and the important becomes the irrelevant. In this hallowed and ancient site the trees have seen the centuries blow past in the winds of each season and witnessed the folly of constant mortal struggles. The walls stood mute, water awaited the call of the wind to ruffle and move as molten glass of deepest green. Grey stone that rose from the land, unapologetic and bold to defy entrance and protect what has been entrusted to their care. Below the uneven patches of grass were artefacts of old, armour and armaments of old that failed to protect the Dragons what had resided there in the past. It was this same Old man on the hill what his father took him too that Tenebris now resided, and it became his refuge, Shadow's Refuge, the very rebuilt Citadel Shira and Tenebris found themselves in. The wave of unintentional emotion Tenebris quickly recovered from, giving a brief blink to compose himself, "I too served in the court of the late Queen Gemini, I was both her councilor and chief Scholar in matters of history. Tell me, what are the names of your parents, there is a good possibility I may already know them".

As Shira positioned herself into a more comfortable position almost in parallel to Tenebris as a mirror image the Archon was engrossed in the tales of Shira as she spoke of her Mother introducing her to the art form of singing and also how her father had inspired her to sing the ballads of old. "Fascinating, I must confess it would seem me and your father were kindred souls, I'm glad he was able to inspire you into learning the serenades of our past. As a hatchling I myself was always consumed by the tales of past, and the ballads of heroes and their feats. One could say it was these very tales past on in song what defined me as a Dragon. If you'd like, there are many manuscripts of written songs within the archives from ages past which have never seen the light of day. Perhaps you could be the one to pioneer the resurface of such canticles. I have had them stored as a means to preserve them, but perhaps I have been short sighted and blissfully ignorant. I have shielded them, but in doing so I am just adding to their silence when they should be heard, I never thought I hear of one who could give them justice in words sung, until I heard you this evening. I can foresee no other fitting voice other than yours to bring forth the words of the past into a concert for all Nightwings to attend and hear".

Tenebris couldn't help but feel at ease within this train of conversation, especially pondering Shira's own father as a peer within his past, the Archon regretted silently not knowing the Dragon better as from the high regard Shira had of him, he would of certainly have been a kindred soul with the Archon. Tenebris recalled in his musings his own life as a Scholar briefly, comparing that to the esteemed Grotto. It was the mark of a Scholar to understand that in our current reality, that a Dragon must discontinue their individual desperate attempt at pursuing a life that leads to a special existence that so many secretly desire. Such individual desires lead only to a deceptive end of expected euphoria, essentially for one only to discover it is already a worn path not worth treading. As Dragons continue to perpetually struggle to reach their extraneous goals, only for them to come to understand striving may have been in vain, as they will only eventually find themselves exactly where we came from. Thus its the Scholar's duty to record and research to strive to a greater purpose and good for all, to forsaken such individual desires.

The conversation seemed so much more than words. It is the smiles, the gentle gestures, and the light in Shira's eyes with all her attentiveness and glee, that the Archon felt as though both made elevations by each other's presence would be obvious if there was an audience to these deliberations, as even the very rare silences between the two, Tenebris actually felt comfortable unlike his usual aloof disinterested matter when dealing with others within his court. Tenebris took a moment in silence with a soft smile to savour the company, for there was an overwhelming sense of peace and ease in conversing with eager and intelligent Shira, a clawed hand rose to his own maw as the Archon had to suppress a mild chuckle from Shira's mishap in disregarding the formalities of his title he himself didn't notice nor realise such. "Fear not, formalities and ceremony have no place in private conversations. After all, I asked to speak with you so that we may deliberate freely as equals. After all of course, if you are to be the paramount and premier vocalist of the court, no doubt in time your audiences will esteem you ever more than myself through devotion to your voice. To that end, I must confess, tis' an apprieve and comfort to hear that you will sing in the togues of all. I can only foresee that such lamantations from yourself will not only bring glory and respect for our ancestors but inspire those now living and revitalise the pride of our most sacred Tribe. I will give you access to the achieves immediately, however I must ask a selfish request of you. That from your first serenade of these manuscripts you indulge me with a private audience so that I can witness the words of the past brought to life through your serene voice".

[Right then, we'll leave this topic here, get some delightful DP from closing it, then we'll reopen another!]