A Fistful of Temptation [Tenebris]

NightWings have always been known to be secretive. Their dark scales made them disappear in the night, making them nearly impossible to be seen. If that was the epitome of a NightWing, Sting excelled in it, even if it was for a different way. She had always been another face in the crowd, never standing out for some magnificence or failure. For her brief time as a tracker, she remained uninspired without purpose. Being a citizen gave her time to mull over what she wanted to do in her life. Despite her lack of ambition and low status, Sting had grown surprisingly popular among the Tribe. Maybe there was something charming about her despite being the antisocial sort, but she could be described as the "trendsetter" for those outside the castle. Whatever she did, others would follow, and she never found herself short of company.

Though she was rather shy, Sting hated being alone. Lucky for her, she had two lovely hatchlings she had taken under her wing. She loved Cyclone and Typhoon just as much as if she had laid their egg herself. Imagine her surprise when they came to their cavern home to announce news that would forever change their life. They were moving to Shadow's Refuge. The Archon himself requested her twins to become royal guards, and kindly, he offered her to live at the castle too. Sting was so proud that it felt as though her chest would burst, but there was something else nagging at the back of her head. This almost seemed too good to be true.

The suspicion only grew when a royal messenger announced his presence outside the family's cavern. The messenger gave the dragoness a respectful nod. "Sting Yoru, is it?"

Sting scanned the dragon with interest. "Yes. Is this about Cyclone and Typhoon?"

The messenger did not answer. "Our Lord requests your presence at Shadow's Refuge," he said, though by his intent gaze and firmness of the voice, it did not seem very much like a request. It took a few moments for the words to sink in. Why in Pyyria would the Archon want to speak to Sting? There might be cause for some discussion, seeing as she was the adoptive mother of Cyclone and Typhoon, but could that not wait for when she arrived alongside them?

Clearly not. Sting was tempted to ask why but knew it would be fruitless. So she turned to the cavern. "I will be back soon," she spoke briefly to the twins within before allowing the messenger to escort her to Shadow's Refuge. Her mind burned with questions. Was there an ulterior motive to Tenebris recruiting her children? Was that something to do with her?

The Messenger flew at a leisurely pace for Sting to follow as he escorted her towards the Citadel of Shadow's Refuge, flying in contemplative silence. The great citadel would materialise through the darkness as they approached, a grim foreboding monument to the Nightwing tribe, the great obsidian structure rose up at the apex of the island dominating the surrounding landscape, its twisted spires and towers raising to the glide towards the courtyard, landing at the bottom of the grand staircase.

There at the Apex of the stairs, stood under the large onyx archway designed to depict two dragons with their claws interlocked and to which severed as the entrance to the atrium and throne room was Syrus, the Steward, and seneschal of the Citadel. The small Steward gave a deep formal bow, extending his wings for added flare, "Mistress Sting, his Grace is awaiting you within in parlor of the quest wing, if you'd follow me", he spoke in a quiet nasal voice. Not standing on ceremony, he'd lead Sting through the archway, while the messenger at this point would depart. Syrus led her through the grand hall and throneroom which housed the official audiences of the court and all festivities. At this moment the large atrium was eerily quiet, only one of two Dragons talking amongst themselves in the shadows in whispered breaths. Leading Sting through the solemn dark halls to 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 such architecture with an 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 dragon's 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 were macabre oddities ranging from Skeletons of fellow Dragons to taxidermied basilisks, cockatrices, thunder hawks, and other lesser species, the most intriguing 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 wasn't wearing any formal attire like his usual appearances but merely wore a single silver loop earring which hung from his right ear. His posture and demeanour was relaxed and notably 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, his posture would suggest he was within some sort of deep contemplation or suffering in a form of fatigue and weariness. The Archon watched Sting and Syrus intently through his solemn stare as they entered, 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 wannabe idealistic naive martyr who would be driven despite the consequences to removing Tenebris from power. "Thank you, Syrus, you are dismissed", the Archon would state matter of factly, and as ordered the Steward would turn about and close the door behind him.

Tenebris now had his eerie sapphire gaze fixated upon Sting in intense silent scrutiny, he'd then give a subtle nod of mutual respect and acknowledgment, however still made no effort to rise. "Tis' a pleasure, Sting, as always. Now, pray tell do you know why I have summoned you?". The Archon couldn't help but give a wolfish smirk, his uncharacteristic white fangs stood out in contrast to the dark colours of the rest of his body showed.

The NightWings themselves were part of the obsidian sky as they soared for the Tribe capitial. They were invisible to eyes above or below as only NightWings had the experience to spot brethren in the dark. . . Though Sting's star-dappled wings were of reversed color. Sting had been to Shadow's Refuge few times, but none of them had been recent. In fact, come to think of it, the last time she had been called to a Tribal meeting was when Oculus took the throne after Gemini. That was long ago. In fact, it might have been the first time she saw Tenebris, though he was not Archon then, nor did they speak if her memory served her. How fitting it was that was the first time they met long ago, and now, Sting's first royal meeting for years later was with Tenebris.

Accompanied by the messenger, she landed at the archway to greet the steward that awaited her. She was surprised when Syrus gave her a formal bow, to which she did her best to replicate. "Thank you," she murmured to the messenger as he departed. While many might dismiss him with nothing more than a glance or ignorance, Sting was the type of dragon to appreciate all roles played in the great machine that was Tribe life. From her experience as Tracker, she knew that a simple kind acknowledgement could be the difference between a good and bad day.

As Syrus escorted her through the citadel, Sting marvelled the architecture. How long did it take this to be built, she wondered. How many sorcerers? How old was the building itself? It was poetic, in a way. Obsidian, also known as volcanic glass, was brittle, but through magic, it was strengthened to serve a greater purpose: protection, symbolism. Like all Tribes, there was a time where the NightWings were new and weak, but now, they were just as sharp as the stone that built this citadel. Memorials decked the walls in the form of skeletal remains. When Sting saw them, she was so unnerved that she stopped in her tracks to stare for a moment. As she passed them alongside Syrus, her eyes flicked over the plaques that told her what these specimens were known for.

Even they were not the most interesting thing on display. For upon an outcropping of furnished onyx was the Archon himself. Tenebris, usually dressed and positioned so regally, was in a state which confused Sting. Should she bow? Probably, if only just to express her gratitude. The NightWing did her best to replicate Syrus' bow, extending her white black-spattered wings yet keeping her head held to maintain eye contact with the Tribe leader. She righted herself as Syrus was dismissed. Just as she did with the messenger earlier, she thanked him before focusing her attention on Tenebris before her.

The smirk he gave unsettled Sting. Once again, she was reminded that his invitation to Cyclone and Typhoon might have an ulterior motive rather than from the kindness of his heart. "I do not," she responded, choosing her words with care. "Well, not exactly. I can only assume it concerns Cyclone and Typhoon. They are absolutely thrilled by the way," Sting added, swishing her tail behind her. "We are grateful for your generous offer." At first, she considered the Archon called her to discuss housing arrangements, but that smirk. . . It did not convey the joy one would feel about being a host.

Tenebris arose as Sting spoke, his sardonic smirk ever persistent. His movements were slow and replayed, yet deliberate as he pulled himself free from the polished onyx slab, his serpentine tail seemed to sway back and forth in an idle manner, and his movements remained lithe and serpentine as he seemed to weave back and forth in eccentric zigzags on approach as if his legs had differing minds of their own, in a constant battle to dominate his trajectory due to the pronounced limp on his right hindleg before he then stood before Sting. He'd briefly flare open his wings as a means to stretch them, the white speckled star-like patterns upon his wings seeming a stark contrast to Sting's own. "To some degree tis' regarding your twins, yes". He'd lower his rear into a sitting-like manner, while his glare fixated without falter upon Sting throughout. Raises his right foreclaw, he'd fiddle with the ring on his ear, almost as though attempting to amuse and entertain himself from lethargy.

"You see, I would like to extend a further offer to yourself. I would offer you ascendancy as my mate and Queen-Consort". He'd pause for a moment, inclining his head to the right as he continued to play with the earring. "I do not consider you a fool, thus I assume you'll know that I do not give this offer simply out of generosity and grace. I am if nothing else, an opportunist, and I foresee an opportunity with yourself, Cyclone and Typhoon harbouring here within the Citadel. In this opportunity, I intend to capitalise on with this offer. No doubt I do not have to explain the benefits you would gain from such, yet if you have questions, feel free to speak freely in confidence", Tenebris stated and spoke in his usual rich, gravelly voice with an authoritative sincere delivery. The efforts of ensuring they were alone, and that the Archon wasn't in the formal attire, he hoped would allow Sting to speak her mind without fear of repercussion as a form of granting her ease.

As Tenebris sat before her, Sting joined him in a sitting position, coiling her long tail over her talons as a cat would cover its paws. Everything about this meeting seemed unusual, but then again, Sting had never been in a royal situation such as this one. Her expression was one void of all emotion save for interest. However, as the Archon spoke, the look upon her face was replaced by one of shock. For a moment, her serious demeanor shattered. "I. . . never thought- never imagined. . ." The idea of being proposed to by Tenebris had been so farfetched that it did not even cross Sting's mind in her contemplation.

Her neck slightly reared her head back. Surprise was written in every scale of her body and every glimmer of her sunset-shaded eyes. "Well, I'm glad you do not see me as a fool," she spoke, demeanor restored as a hint of sarcasm dripped from her voice. Though incredulity screamed through her body language, Sting spoke with an air of calm that was almost icy. Suspicion still piqued, she continued, "I would like some questions answered, yes." Where to start?

Sting's standing in the NightWings seemed as good a place as any. "I suppose I can't help but wonder why you would want me, of all dragons, to be your consort. I never held a high ranking in our Tribe. I was a Tracker once, and I did guide trainees in the way of the hunt, 'tis true, but. . ." Hesitation. How could she express her low status without coming across as self-deprecating? "I am a citizen. I am not accepting any offer until I know what you plan to gain from me and my twins," the dragoness said firmly. The offer was certainly tempting, but there must be something Tenebris wanted in return. While the Archon had two heirs, the oldest was a halfblood. Mephala was a fullblooded NightWing, but as an illegitimate hatchling with no known mother, her becoming Tenebris' successor was unlikely. While Sting bad been slightly irritated with the NightWing leader, he had been right: Sting was no fool. Of course he wanted fullblooded heirs, but that did not answer why he chose Sting to be their mother.