Gold did not simply lie scattered in careless heaps; it was arranged—curated—into sweeping drifts and careful rises, like a landscape designed by a patient, obsessive hand. Coins were stacked by era, by mint, by story. Chalices tilted just so, catching the warm light of unseen embers. Silks, aged and whisper-soft, draped across the stone like deliberate brushstrokes.
And at the heart of it all—
She moved.
Faraandrunah shifted languidly atop her hoard, molten hues of sunset and ember cascading over the gold as though she herself had been poured into shape. Each scale gleamed with meticulous care, polished to a mirror sheen that reflected coinlight in soft, liquid halos. Her wings stretched once, slow and indulgent, before folding with precise elegance against her sides.
Click.
A single coin slid into place beneath her claw.
“Two hundred and thirty-seven… two hundred and thirty-eight…”
Her voice was low, silken—each number a gentle caress against the air. Counting was not merely habit. It was ritual. Reassurance. Control.
“Two hundred and thirty-nine…”
Her talons—immaculate, of course—lifted another coin. She paused.
A breath.
Not hers.
The faintest disturbance teased the edge of the den’s entrance, slipping in on the breeze like an uninvited thought. Subtle. Almost nothing.
Almost.
The coin did not fall. It remained poised between claw and treasure.
“…two hundred and—”
Silence.
Slowly, she turned her head.
The movement was unhurried, deliberate—predatory only in its certainty. Eyes like molten shades of blue slid toward the cavern mouth, pupils narrowing ever so slightly. She did not rise. She did not need to.
Instead, she listened.
Stone held echoes well. Air carried secrets. And Faraandrunah… oh, she was very good at listening.
A pause.
Then—
A soft exhale, almost amused.
“How curious.”
The coin was set down with exquisite care. Not tossed. Not dropped. Placed.
Her tail coiled more tightly around a nearby stack, possessive without appearing so. Wings shifted just enough to frame her silhouette—oh, she was aware of presentation, even now.
When she spoke again, her voice slipped into the darkness beyond the den like silk drawn over a blade.
“You’ve come quite far,” she murmured, calm and cultured, each word perfectly measured. “Far enough, in fact, that I must assume intent.”
A delicate tilt of her head. A faint, knowing smile—not kind, not cruel. Simply… certain.
“If you intend to enter,” she continued softly, “do try not to scuff the stone. It would be terribly disappointing to begin our acquaintance with damage.”
A pause.
Then, almost as an afterthought—
“I do have tea prepared.”
Her claws shifted, ever so slightly closer to a particular cluster of coins.
“And I do so enjoy conversation.”
A beat.
The whisper sharpened—not louder, never louder, but colder.
“…provided my collection remains intact.”
Silence settled again.
Waiting.
Whether the breeze had lied to her… or whether something now lingered just beyond the threshold—well.
That was a story yet to be told.
Posted: Tue Apr 14, 2026 6:16 pm
Instincts were a rather funny thing; should one be wise enough to ask others how or why they reacted certain ways to specific things. They’d learn a lot.
For example..the stallion easily let instinct draw him nearer to the mysterious cave..there was this odd itching in Ravager’s claws. An itch to explore. Just for a moment! What could possibly be the harm?
So he had ventured closer.
The world inside the cave was magnificent! As if the sunlight had been captured..it all sparkled in dizzying colors. The primary one being gold of course.
Unable to process all that he could see fully Ravager heard a voice counting and then speaking..how terribly interesting. How did they know he’d travelled far? What in the world was tea?
Most pressing of all were the little things scattered about and in mighty piles. Odd little circles? Head tilting mildly he hunkered down behind a large rock and gave one of the shiny things a contemplative poke. Snorting at the glittery surface. Ravager had heard of metal..why would one keep so many little metal circles? Were they powerful? The questions BURNED in his head..inky black tail swishing gently across the stone floor.
Someone else was here. The thought came in an instant, his dark gaze sweeping the shadowed entrance of the cave. Today was simply a day of odd, curious things.
Taking a slow breath he remained still..voice carrying easily. ”Why do you have so many shiny circles? So many questions. Hmm..are they magical?”
The cave did not so much echo as remember—each sound lingering in the air like a thought unwilling to leave.
From somewhere deeper within the glittering vastness, something shifted.
Not a rush. Not alarm.
A measured, deliberate presence.
Gold caught the light as it moved, scattering it across the stone in slow, regal flickers until a shape finally resolved itself from the wealth it guarded. Faraandrunah did not emerge as one would a startled beast. She unveiled herself, as though the cavern itself had decided she was worth noticing.
Her gaze settled on the stranger first.
Then, more specifically, on the place where his curiosity had already left small disturbances among her carefully arranged treasures.
A pause.
Not anger.
Assessment.
“You ask questions as though they are thrown stones,” she said at last, voice smooth as polished metal, neither raised nor hurried. “One after another, without waiting to see where they land.”
Her eyes shifted to the circle beneath his clawed foot—the coin he had nudged.
At that, something almost like amusement softened the edges of her expression.
“So many shiny circles,” she echoed, as if tasting the phrase. “Yes… I suppose that is what you would call them, if you did not know better.”
She stepped closer, slow and unthreatening, though the air around her still carried the quiet weight of ownership—of something vast and ancient being entirely certain it belonged.
“They are not magic,” she continued. “Not in the way your questions hope they are.”
A faint tilt of her head.
“But they are not nothing, either.”
Her gaze lifted back to him, sharp with intellect rather than hostility.
“Mortal hands shaped them. Mortal agreements gave them meaning. Hunger. Trust. Debt. Desire.” A brief pause, almost gentle. “They are memory made metal.”
She let that settle before adding, softer now:
“And you are correct about one thing.”
A faint, knowing curve touched her mouth.
“I do have many.” Her eyes drifted over the hoard that filled the cavern like a frozen tide of glacial water. “More than any single life should reasonably earn… if one believes in such limits.”
Then her attention returned fully to him, studying him as one might study an unexpected variable in a long-understood equation.
“But you did not come here for philosophy, did you?”
A subtle glance to the coin still under his interest.
“Tell me, wanderer… do you poke all unknown things so boldly, or only the ones that glitter?”
Posted: Sat Apr 18, 2026 2:20 am
((Just passing through! xd ))
Buff Puff plodded along, with every sway the packs on her sides jingled with a granular metallic sound. She had not long left a local tavern, having won a game of 'dragon and the thief'. The fireside lodge was known for its hot baths and contests of strength, but that's not why she was there. It was a place to rest her head safely in an unfamiliar place. A notable aspect was the peculiar wallpaper, until she realised it wasn't wallpaper at all, the whole place had been plastered with quests and wanted posters. Layer upon layer, she could barely see the original wallpaper beneath it.
The jiggling mare thought about how the barkeeper did not seem fond of strangers and met her with a face of stone. Each traveller was met with looks that could kill and a heavy sense of distrust as the region had become strapped for gold and many a fake coin ended up in his clutches. He checked every coin with scrutiny. She distinctly remembered their sign stating "fools not welcome". She had not understood what it meant until she had joined them for an eventful evening where one traveller, two travellers, three travellers and many more were pushed, shoved and eventually ejected outside face-first for their attempt at deceit. Throughout her time there, a bard told tales of a dragon who had amassed a lot of the region's wealth through song. This tale inspired a small table to play a couple of rounds of 'Dragon and the Thief'. She thought there was no way the tales could be real, but the locals believed it and had claimed sightings. Some of the largest wanted posters dedicated to the dragon served as a warning to travellers and a dare for fools. The environment was so strange that she was not sure if she would return there again.
After her win, Buff Puff was in her own world; she had already had a successful stint selling her wares at a traveller's market before winning some tavern games. For a while, a begging traveller tailed her in hopes of getting their coin back, but she had managed to somehow shake them off. Unfortunately, in her efforts to shake them off, she was no longer sure of where she was. Something tangled around her legs, almost causing her to trip. The tightening sensation around her legs shook her out of her dazed thoughts. She looked down to see an empty, torn sack had become twisted around her legs. She shook this off, and it travelled away in the wind. She looked up from her hooves, and the mouth of a cave appeared in her line of sight with stones stacked gently, balancing on top of each other by the entrance. She approached the mouth of the cave and did not make the connection. 'Perhaps a place to rest', she thought to herself wearily. She stood at the entrance and peered inside, thinking nothing of it until she saw a glow and could hear what she thought was a one-sided conversation about circles down the cavern.
'NOPE.' She thought to herself in a silent panic. Instant regret.
Buff Puff's ears flattened, and she pivoted to move away. In this moment, her sides seemed to jingle even more, and her nerves had gotten the better of her, so she ran. A piece of parchment slipped out from her bags. It caught wind and floated deep into the cave. She had taken a dragon poster from the gaming table as a souvenir from the tavern so that she might be able to play the game again. The poster had an illustration of the dragon around its golden hoard with a mysterious, shadowy figure, the thief, in the corner.
Buff Puff only looked back when she felt she had gotten far enough away. Now she didn't care where she was; she just knew she was far enough away to catch her breath. She came away from the near miss with another tale to tell her sister. Dragons were real.
She had not noticed that she had lost her poster, but would later discover this when unpacking.
Post Summary: - questions/prompts/outcomes written in red.
Mewsings of An Angel
- There is a tavern somewhere in the region that my mare has visited - the owners are not a fan of the dragon. - Some folks in the region tell tales about a dragon, and some people think that it's just a story. - There is a lot of fake gold in circulation amongst the common folk because gold coins have become rarer in their small settlement area (this is just one small settlement within many vast areas around her lair, so who knows, perhaps other areas are more wealthy?) Newer coins are still being fashioned and circulated, but it is taking them time to mine and mint them. - There is a game called 'Dragon and the Thief'. ((It's a game by black swan press and can be downloaded from DriveThru RPG for free lol.))
Outcome: - My mare got close to the entrance but ran away. Dragons are scary. - A poster with some fanart a sketch of Faraandrunah with her gold has blown into the cave on a gust of wind. Is it seen or is it ignored? Is it flattering or is it cartoonish? - My mare has discovered that dragons ARE real, and she will now spread stories about a dragon that resides in a region she once visited. She travels a lot and tells stories.Faraandrunah's reputation will travel.
A soft creaking came from the shadows of the trees, something moved, shadows that didn't quite look right to be a part of nature. The creaking of wood moving though there was no wind to move the branches, not even a rustle of a leaf from the trees yet clearly there was something Other there...
HE watched as a small orangey pink Usdia emerged from the cave he had been observing for a while. As if appearing from nothing, he stepped from the trees as the small soquili ran past, ordinarily he might have attempted to make a snack of the creature but he had other things on his mind today, instead he just rumbled menacingly as it passed him, both otherwise ignoring each other's presence as they went their own ways. His large frame moved with purpose, the sound of wood creaking moved with him.
Cadmus approached the cave, not cautiously because he was not a timid dragon but because he had seen at least one other soquili enter the cave and while he was confident in his abilities, he wasn't stupid. He stayed alert but he was the son of Dragons, the Dragonlords of his Flight specifically, so he strode right on into the cave, hearing voices as he entered, his eyes growing wider as he saw the wealth present, now THIS was interesting.
He strode over, claws ticking on the stone as he approached the pile of coins. noting one that seemed to have fallen from a pile, he pinched it between two of his claws, bringing it up to his face, turning it over with curiosity. He patently ignored the non dragon in the space.
(mention of Buff Puff approved by Yumi over discord)
Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2026 11:11 am
The cave noticed him before she did.
Or rather - she allowed it to.
Every shift of weight, every creak of something not entirely flesh nor entirely wood, every measured step that spoke not of caution but of entitlement… it all threaded through the cavern like a discordant note in an otherwise carefully composed symphony.
Faraandrunah did not turn immediately.
She finished placing a coin.
Precisely.
Only then did her gaze lift.
And settle.
Not on the wanderer who had asked questions.
Not on the scattered gleam of her hoard.
But on him.
The newcomer.
The one who had entered as though thresholds were suggestions.
Silence stretched—not empty, but heavy. Evaluating. Measuring.
Her head tilted ever so slightly, blue eyes narrowing with a kind of refined curiosity that bordered on surgical.
“A second guest,” she said at last, voice smooth and low, though something colder had slipped beneath its polish. “And this one does not even bother to announce himself.”
Her attention flicked, briefly, to the coin he had taken - hers, turned between claws that did not belong to this place.
Then back to his face.
Unhurried.
Unimpressed.
“You walk as though this cavern were unclaimed,” she continued, taking a slow step forward. Gold shifted softly beneath her movement, as though even it understood to make way. “As though possession is determined by confidence alone.”
A pause.
Then, faintly—dangerously—amused:
“How very… young.”
She circled slightly, not closing distance entirely, but shifting the space so that the hoard—and the exit—both seemed to belong more firmly to her with each step.
“You have lineage in your stride,” she observed, eyes tracing the subtle tells in his posture, the weight of his presence. “Pride, too. Carefully cultivated.” A breath. “Perhaps even deserved.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“But you mistake me for something that can be impressed by it.”
Another step. Closer now.
The air grew warmer—not with rage, but with something far more controlled.
Possessive.
“You may look,” she said, voice softening into something almost courteous—almost. “Curiosity is not a crime here.”
Her eyes dropped, deliberately, to the coin in his grasp.
“But taking…” A delicate lift of her chin. “Taking suggests a claim.”
Now her gaze locked fully onto his.
“And I do so dislike misunderstandings.”
A beat.
Then, quiet and certain:
“Tell me, son of dragons… did you come here to admire my collection?”
The dark stallion did not pride himself on many things but, conversation did not typically escape him..like it did in those following moments. First a soft sound outside had drawn Ravager’s gaze..gone as fast as it had appeared. Weird.
That was enough; left buffering..mind shifting as if it was made of sand. The stall offered the time for another to enter the cavern of sparkly wonder.
Growling. Shifting coins. The air was thick with tension..Ravager shifted to carefully place the magic circle back where he had first touched it. Bending to puff a breath of air over the surface; pleased that there were no scratches or dust marring the surface. Best to return it perfectly.
Mind finally settling he spoke up when the two finished their own interesting…meeting? “I enjoy seeing all the wonders of the world and meeting those that have such things. You are quite fascinating as are your circles of metal. I do hope you won’t mind me staying a little longer.”
Eyeing the newcomer warily Ravager let his chest puff, unlike the second dragon he did not growl or dare touch anything else..head dipping in a formal greeting to the pair. “I am Ravager, thank you for answering me so kindly when I entered your home without invitation. I’m not here to cause you any trouble..”
If anything the silly raptor would rather seek friendship..dark eyes glowing with an honest light whilst his forever traitorous tail wagged..careful to avoid brushing even one coin. ”You are both quite powerful but, should you attempt to bother the lady..I will have to not be so friendly sir. Even if she could defend herself and her treasures~”
Subtly tapping his own massive sharp claws against the caves floor he continued to radiate a steady, if not a touch protective energy. Yes they’d just met.
Even if the stallion didn’t know either of their names he would not hesitate to strike an attack happened or if things became uncivilized.“It’s rude to ignore others sir. So, hello..my name is Ravager. The kind owner of this cave mentioned tea. I’m quite curious, won’t you join a fellow curious soul?”
Posted: Sat Apr 25, 2026 4:54 pm
For a moment, the tension did not break.
It refined.
Faraandrunah’s gaze lingered on Cadmus a heartbeat longer—just enough to make clear that his presence had not been dismissed—before, at last, she turned.
Not away.
Never away.
But toward Ravager.
And what a curious shift it was.
The sharp, glinting edge in her expression softened—not into warmth, no… but into something more deliberate. Considered. As though he had, quite unexpectedly, chosen the correct move in a game he did not yet realize he was playing.
Her eyes dipped briefly to the coin he had so carefully returned.
Then rose again. “You learn quickly,” she observed, voice quieter now, though no less precise. “That alone sets you apart from most who wander where they ought not.”
A single step brought her nearer—not threatening, not claiming—simply present.
Her attention flicked to his wagging tail… and there, unmistakably, a faint trace of amusement surfaced.
“Fascinating, you say,” she echoed, as though weighing the word. “A generous interpretation. Many would choose less flattering ones.”
Then—
His declaration.
Protective. Earnest. Entirely uncalculated.
For the briefest instant, something unreadable crossed her expression.
Not surprise.
Not quite approval.
…but something that lingered dangerously close.
“You would defend me,” she said softly, not as a question—but as an examination of the idea itself. “From him.”
Her gaze slid, without turning her head, back toward Cadmus—cool, aware, and very much still engaged.
“Bold,” she added.
Then, with a delicate exhale that might have been the ghost of a laugh:
“And entirely unnecessary.”
Now she turned fully, repositioning herself—not between them, but in such a way that it became subtly, unmistakably clear:
This was her domain.
Any conflict here would occur on her terms.
“You may stay,” she continued, returning her focus to Ravager. “So long as your curiosity remains paired with that same… restraint.”
A pause.
Then, lighter:
“And your compliments do not grow excessive. I do have a reputation to maintain.”
Only then did she address the final thread he had offered.
Tea.
Ah.
At that, something warmer—genuinely warmer—touched her tone.
“You fixate on the smallest details,” she noted. “I find that… agreeable.”
Her head inclined slightly, a gesture just shy of regal invitation.
“Tea, Ravager, is a ritual. A civilized indulgence. Leaves coaxed into revealing themselves through heat and patience.” Her eyes flicked, briefly, toward Cadmus again. “Two qualities not always present in my guests.”
A faint, knowing smile.
“But perhaps tonight will prove an exception.”
She turned, beginning to move deeper into the cavern, where a low stone surface—previously lost among gold and glitter—waited, already arranged with implements far more refined than the chaos surrounding them.
“Come,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder—not a command, but something close enough to be mistaken for one.
“Let us see if curiosity, arrogance…” her gaze briefly lingered on Cadmus,
“…and courtesy can occupy the same space without incident.”
A pause.
Then, softer—almost playful, though still edged with something ancient and certain:
“And do try not to mistake my hospitality for vulnerability.”
