The scent of tropical spices filled the air, mingling with the heady smell of so many exotic flowers. Heat rose from the ground in thick waves, burning the undersizes of bare feet. The sky outside was clear and bright. The sun was a giant, golden gem, suspended in the air by fragile wisps of clouds. Dragons and riders alike took the brief paused in battle training to enjoy a dip in the ocean or explore the numerous caverns of New Warren. Like the changing of the seaons, the war that raged across Tris'Hath seemed to have high and low points. Currently, they hadn't seen a hydra skirmish in weeks. For some, this information was nerve-wracking and suspicious. For others, while still being alert and concerned, this information provided a much needed and appreciated break.

Aaron Audil leaned back in his chair, munching on a cookie while he watched a few stragglers chat at a nearby table. The dining hall had emptied of most of its occupants after noon hour, but there were always a few who found the gigantic hall the perfect place to hang out. Aaron enjoyed it for two reason: the peace and quiet; and the constant supply of food. Which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that he had barely eaten a full meal in two days. This was his first chance to sit back and relax and he was soaking up every minute of it.

Trinent munched on the remainder of his meat (of which there wasn't much) while Kimmi dozed lightly by his feet. The maroon dodrian had been a gift from Mystic when they were still young. Now, dozens of Kimmi's kin invaded every crevice of the Warren. There were scarce few other firelizards (aside from Trinent) in the hall, save those that hovered over the talking party. One odd one caught Aaron's eye as it descended on flurry white wings with a cheery greeting to his pet. His tiny blue looked up from his meal and chirped a reply, inviting the flit down to join him. Aaron smiled to himself as the flurry flit helped itself to his plate, ignoring the message tied to his leg.

Curious, the Lanuthian prince leaned forward and gently untied the note. He was careful not to disturb the flit's gourging session, lest his fingers become a snack. Smoothing the small piece of paper out flat, he quickly scanned over its contents. A light smile lit his face when he had finished. He looked up and nodded to the flurry flit. "Thanks for the notice. I'll be sure Helena gives you an extra bit of food to take back." The flit responded with a happy chirp, his muzzle covered in bits of bread crumb.

Rolling the note and keeping it safely grasped in his hand, Aaron stood and called his companions to him. Trinent bid farewell to the flurry flit, darting quickly into the air and wrapping his small frame around his owner's dark throat. Kimmi woke with a start, thumping her fur-tipped tail once on the ground before standing faithfully at Aaron's side. In the recent years since the Nexus had 'opened up', so to speak, Kimmi and Trinent had become permenent attachments on the blue rider. Much like Hope clung to Mystic, Aaron was now rarely seen without his dynamic duo. The note had been an invitation to this year's Flurry celebration at Ryslen. Perhaps this time, he'd be able to take the troublesome two to the party. If he didn't, they'd certainly find a way to coax Blakoreth into sneaking them in. The blue lug who called himself a dragon had a soft spot for Kimmi's pleading gaze.

As Aaron strolled down the long hall, he nodded a greeting to the small group of riders seated at one of the vacant tables. They returned with smiles and greetings, treating more like a good friend than a leader to be revered. That was the way he and Mystic liked it. Niether of them had taken well to their quiet little home suddenly becoming a Princlet. Not only that, but Aaron was now Prince over his older brother, the Lord of Terglinear. That had been cause for an interesting family reunion.

Very few people littered the wide hallways outside the dining hall and main foyer. He and Mystic were nearly the only two in the entire Warren who didn't occasionally get lost in the many twisting and turning tunnels. His path was a simple one now that he had a mission. Straight down the main hall, turn left at the first junction, right at the next hall, follow that straight to the end. Simple, at least, for him. Kimmi remained faithfully at his side (though there were many smells to investigate) throughout the trip. Trinent chirped greetings to other flits, but didn't once uncurl his tail from around Aaron's throat.

Soon though, the Prince of Lanutha came upon his target. He stopped short when a loud explosion, muffled by the wooden door, came from within. The noise was followed by a red robed figure swiftly darting out the door and slamming it closed behind her. Pressing her back against the solid wood, Mystic closed her eyes and listened in silence to the war going on behind her back.

"Rough lesson?" Aaron asked with a grin on his face. After the commotion, he had finished crossing the distance to where his wife stood. Kimmi still looked warily at the door being held closed by the red robed mage.

"I don't know who I want to kill more!" Mystic quipped in a strained voice. Her eyes shot open and found her husband, showing the wide-eyed amazement she had expressed at what was going on behind her. That, and the fact that she was ready to snap. "The hydras for starting this blasted war, or my wards for creating one of their own!"

Aaron barely contained a laugh as another explosion echoed from within the training room. Mystic closed her eyes, fighting a pulsing headache. While he had been given a break from council meetings, she still had to work day in and day out to keep the Warren running smoothly. This Flurry would be good for both of them... if he could convince his wife to leave her precious Warren in the care of the Lead Wing for a few hours. He smiled as she muttered something under her breath, most likely cursing the gods for sticking her with two uncontrollable wards.

"Maybe this is T'Dalen's way of saying he likes her." Aaron offered non-chalantly, leaning against the smooth rock of the tunnel wall.

"Yes, and maybe this war is the hydra's way of playing tag." Mystic retorted. Most of her attention was still focussed on keeping the door shut as another blast rocked the small room. "Now, please tell me you have a reason to stand there and mock me while my wards destroy yet another training room." Her nerves were wearing thin, thus resulting in little patience for anything. Though most people would react negatively to the sharp comment, Aaron merely grinned.

"The Flurry invite just came. I thought you'd like to take some time off and go to the party." He held out the note to her, seeing as she had shifted her weight slightly away from the door.

"Really?" Mystic quiried curiously, taking the small scrap of paper and scanning its contents. "A bit late this year." Mystic's inquizative study of the message ended suddenly as a rather large boom sounded through the hall. She closed her eyes again, counting to three to keep her temper in check. "Give me... one moment." She spoke in a controlled voice, handing the note back to Aaron and slipping into the room again.

Aaron wisely moved to the far wall while Mystic spoke to her wards. Seconds later, two young form scurried from the room. Ayzha had a fierce scowl on her elven face, snapping at T'Dalen in her own tongue. T'Dalen had a matching scowl, glaring at the blonde haired girl and ordering her to speak Common. Before Mystic emerged, they both hurried down the hall, squabbling the entire way.

Aaron smiled at his wife when she finally exited the mostly destroyed room. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the slender body of her golden staff. Her other hand fixed what few hairs had flown out of place. A disapproving frown marked her angular face, disappearing with the last of Ayzha and T'Dalen's distant argument. Aaron raised a brow curiously, watching her fatigued face for a reaction to his offer.

Mystic sighed deeply, trying to control her racing pulse. A full fledged headache attacked her skull and her palms stung from where she had dug her nails into flesh. She had enough troubles dealing with snivelling Lords, half-formed armies, crumbling politics, and a back-stabbing father that hated her guts. While Aaron attended council meeting after council meeting, she was stuck in her den doing paperwork. While their son was off at lessons and playing with his friends, she was dealing with various complaints and supply trades. Money was plentiful but friendly dealers were not. There weren't enough hours in the day to complete all her duties, often leaving her with an overflowing work load the next day. Not to mention the battles. Her eyes wandered while she thought, following the path of her two wards. She had been training both of them for years, both without the aid of the Mages Tower (which, by the way, also hated her). Too many people in this blasted war hated her. Mystic smirked lightly, casting Aaron a glance out of the corner of her eye. "I'll get everything in order. You go tell Blak and Myrah'Care to be ready to leave."

A tremondous roar shook the foundations of Ryslen as a darkly violet flit zoomed heticly through the air. In her tiny claws she clutched a soft leather hat. Her flurry printed wings worked double time, carrying her farther and faster through Ryslen's halls then any flit had gone before. Dodging curious riders and surprised drudges, she continued on her bee-line coarse until her target came within sight. With a happy chirp and swivel of her fragile wings, she latched her hindlegs onto the woman's leather vest and wound herself tightly around her throat. The pilfered leather cap remained greedily held in her paws.

Terra looked calmly at the purple f'lizard that had attached itself to her. The tell-tale hat laying hap-hazardly across her shoulder warned her to the victim that this particular flit had pestered. Not that every flit in Ryslen didn't enjoy a good taunting session of her foul-tempered companion. Frentil, the fire and darkness ligon standing faithfully at Terra's side, sighed deeply.

Seconds later, a stocky, dark-haired figure came barreling down the same path as the flit. His chubby cheeks were a bright red from exertion, and his bushy brows were lowered fiercely over beady eyes. A deep frown creased his thick lips, barely visible beneath the thick beard and mustache that covered his face. An accusing finger snapped up in front of him, pointing towards the winged culprit. "You little thief." He growled in booming tones, striding swiftly towards Terra without noticing her existance. "Give me back my hat!"

Terra sidestepped Dungar's sudden lunge. The purple thief on her should chittered a scolding at the dwarven man, clutching his hat to her chest as if it were something precious. Terra crossed her stout arms over her chest, watching Dungar turn on his heels for another attack. "You know," she said with a small smirk, "maybe if you asked nicely, she'd give it back."

"I'll be damned to the Nine Hells and back a'fore I ask a flit for m'own hat!" Dungar roared indignantly. Heavily booted feet thumped over the stone ground as he stomped back to Terra and glared down at her. Though both were short compared to humans, Dungar was tall for an average dwarf.

Terra met his gaze steadily. Of all the people in the Warren and at Ryslen, there were only a few who would stand up to Dungar's rages. Terra, being his mate and now betrothed, was one of the few who could out glare the Master Smith. Not even J'lenn held that title.

For a few moments, Dungar sputtered and scowled, trying desperately to outlast Terra's stony gaze. At last, he growled and looked away, tucking his chin down so that he muttered into his beard. "Can I please have my hat back?" Came the mumbled request. Terra considered asking him to repeat it louder, but the ears of Ryslen had already been blistered enough by his foul curses.

The purple female chiruuped happily, hopping from Terra's shoulder onto Dungar's. She cooed and purred, rubbing her small head against his cheek. A low growl rumbled in Dungar's chest as he snatched his hat out of her paws and stuck it back on his head. "Keersh't." The dwarven curse escaped his lips while he glared daggers at the tiny f'lizard. His heavy accent rolled the word off his tongue, making the sound very different from the spelling. 'Hrumphf'ing unhappily at Terra, he turned and went to storm from the dining hall; getting all of about two feet before he ran headlong into a red cloaked figure.

Mystic looked down at the rassled dwarven man with a slight quirk of her golden brows. Her appearence had changed, almost drastically, from the light silk she wore around the Warren. Golden icicles dripped around the hem of her crushed velvet dress; red as always. Matching gold snowflakes drifted in a lazy pattern down the golden trim of her heavy cloak, clasped at the front by a larger, glittering golden snowflake. Elbow length golves the colour of ripe holly berries caressed her slender hands and forearms. The ensamble of red and gold was accented by a piece of three-leafed holly woven into her crowning braids. Dungar noticed none of this. Instead, he began sputtering and cursing once again, glaring up at the red robed mage.

"This is all your fault, you know!" He accused. "I'd rather've been stuck on that blasted rock for the rest of my life then be a part of this!"

Mystic chuckled softly, looking to Terra. "I can see things are going well here." She commented through a laughing smirk.

"Aye." Terra replied, walking past Dungar to join Mystic. The hatching was eminent, or so Cali and Myrah'Care had told them. A mutual agreement passed between the two riders to find good seats early without discussing the topic forthrightly. Terra pretended to ignore Dungar's sulking complaints while they walked. "He's been a pest to J'lenn. Not that I mind, mind you. Can't stand the man m'self."

"I'd have thought he'd be better after Dusky's flight. Appearently not." Mystic said with a smooth chuckle to her silky tones. "How's Myia doing? I haven't seen her around yet." True, she and Aaron had arrived only moments ago, but Myia wasn't in her usualy place hovering over Senorith. Mystic worried for the gold-white rider, knowing that finding happiness in a relationship was difficult for her these days.

Terra barked a laugh, waving off Mystic's curious concern. "Haven't seen her either. Mainly 'cause she hasn't left L'ken's side since the flight. I think she's finally come out of that slump of hers."

"That's wonderful!" Mystic exclaimed. "Though I pray she doesn't miss the hatching because of it." A joking purr lit her voice, matching the flitting grin on her face.

"Nah. Those three flits of hers won't let her. They've been completely uncontrollable since they learned how many of their kin are gonna be bugging the candidates and such today. F'lizards here are like an epidemic." As she spoke, Terra was forced to wave off a horde of curious, young blizzard flits who found her copper-red hair interesting.

"So I've seen." The red mage chortled. Her own Hope had crammed herself into the smallest crevice possible when she saw the grand amount of flits buzzing around Ryslen. She even refused to speak to Trinent, catagorizing him as just as annoying as the rest of his kind. "That reminds me, I noticed that Dungar has a flit of his own. Does she have a name?"

"She does not!" Dungar snapped indignantly. He was finally able to muscle his way into the conversation, though the watcher stands were just around the corner by now. "And she ain't mine!"

"Her name's Kircht. 'Least that's what Dungar calls her most of the time. Means 'pest'." Terra explained after the brief pause in their conversation. Both women had spared a glance for the enraged dwarven man, but ignored his imperious comment.

"NOW SEE HERE WOMAN!!" Dungar roared at the top of his cast-iron lungs. His comment was followed by an immediate dead silence as three sets of firm gazes landed on him. All three, Terra, Mystic and Kircht, dared him to finish that thought. Dungar sputtered a moment, as he usually did, trying to find the words (and the guts) to speak his reprimand. "As soon as this damned clutch is over, I'm going home." He said with all the firmness as if that had been his original comment. Both women smirked lightly. He scowled once more then stormed past Mystic and Terra and into the stands area.

"I'll teach him his place soon enough." Terra assured the red mage. She too entered the stands at that point, leaving Mystic to hunt down her husband.

Aaron was, as usual, not too difficult to find. His cheery smile and snow dusted black hair gave him away as he stood chatting with Tiyanni. Mystic came up behind him quietly, waiting to be acknowledge by the enthusiastic blue rider. His own cloak and tunic had been sprinkled with magical snowflakes and icicles of the purest silver, accenting the royal blue of the rest of his clothes nicely. It didn't take him long to notice Mystic's presence when the retired Weyrwoman of Ryslen turned her attention to the impending hatching. Grinning impishly, he slipped his arm around hers and lead her to their seats. "Where've you been?" He asked simply. "You missed the best snow fight."

"So I see." Mystic said coyly, looking up to the melting droplets dotting his onyx hair. "While you were off playing, my dear, I went to see how Terra and Dungar were getting along. I believe this is the most outgoing I've ever seen him."

Aaron ran a gloved hand through his partially frozen locks, blue eyes drifting over the selection of candidates. This year the Warren had provided four hopeful youths. "Think it'll last?"

Mystic gaze flickered over the growing crowd until she found Terra and Dungar amongst the riders of the proud parents. With a slight nod of her head and quirk of her rose red lips, Dungar's plain, leather hat turned into the festive red cap trimmed in fluff of the Earthen Santa Claus. Terra noticed, and barely restrained her laughter. Dungar remained completely oblivious. Turning a sparkling gaze upon her husband, Mystic smiled. "I think they'll be just fine."

Curious as he was, Aaron had no time to remark on his wife's mischevious tone. The first egg was cracking and the hatching had begun...