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He was still not sure how he’s found Falin - he’d been wandering through nearby hallways, unable to sleep, when he came across Falin’s asleep form.
Logic dictated he had to call his party, make them come and see how to fix her; his emotions, though, made his feet approach her, step by careful step, afraid of waking her up. His heart beat wildly, a beast untamed, beating in his ribs the shape of her name.
He kneeled by her side, one hand touching her feathers: soft, mildly covered with something oily - bringing up his hand to his nose, the smell was familiar, reminding him of ducks. Did she have an uropygial gland now? Did all chimeras, or was this one of the dragon’s features? He wanted to know. There was an urge to wake Falin and pester her with questions, but his hands hesitated.
She was a monster now - and yet, her face was that of Falin’s, the familiar sight of his asleep sister.
Touching her, though, he couldn’t help but realize she ran hot - hotter than the Falin usual, only ever slightly hotter than a dragon’s theoretical normal (the research on this was heavily debated; Laios did not wish to presume to know the right answer on his own). He cocked his head, trying to guess why this was happening.
The field of dragon studies was an ocean far wider than Laios could comprehend: his knowledge of them bordered on pitiful, only the same basic facts anyone could give rattling on his brain. Shameful; he should’ve been better prepared.
“Brother?” Falin’s weak voice asked, and he looked at her, his hands reaching for her face. Had she smelled him and woken up?
She sounded the same - looked the same, too, as long as you didn’t look beneath her neck, but Laios couldn’t help but look: her feather-covered skin, supple and firm as his hands lowered themselves to the place where her hips connected with the dragon’s body.
“Falin!” Relief flooded his senses, a smile on his lips. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a little hungry,” she said, eyes distant. It made sense. Laios rose, ready to pick up leftovers for her. There were some, and no one would mind if he fed Falin.
Falin’s hands grasped at his clothing, finding his arm. She rose it to her mouth, biting it, as if asking him to not go - and how could Laios not comply?
“I’ll bring you food. Promise.”
She let go of him, and rose in trembling feet, following him sluggishly through hallways that he wasn’t sure if he was seeing right, but looked like they restructured themselves to accommodate her girth. Not even a single shakiness to the floor, as if the dungeon itself did not want to alert her presence. Fascinating - he wasn’t aware a dungeon could do that so easily.
She sat down in the darkness outside of their chosen hideout, curling into herself, and Laios was quick to go in, careful in his own steps, to grab what leftovers he could. Their future breakfast was now dinner for Falin, and he was pleased by it.
“Here,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder, and Falin sniffed at the food plate he presented, opening her mouth expectantly.
Laios blushed, and, careful as he could be, scooped food into a spoon, feeding her gently. He watched her chew, chew, chew, and then open her mouth again - and so, he repeated the process, feeding Falin until the plate was clean.
When finished, he set it aside, and she curled into his arms, her now massive weight forcing him to lie under her.
Her eyes were clear - the clearest they’d been in years, in fact. Not even as a child he’d seen her this way - well, except when she did magic, when he could admire her without worrying about being caught.
“Falin?” Worry tinged his voice, but it didn’t reach Falin.
Her hand dragged through his face, claw-like nails - definitely new - not quite breaking his skin.
“Hungry,” she offered as an answer, before kissing him.
Her mouth was hot, and it almost burnt him - no, scratch that: he could feel his lips burning, like she was the sun lording over him, and he, once more, a child running in the fields.
And who was Laios to deny such a call, really? He kissed Falin, his hands weaving themselves on her hair, seeking the heat of her. His sister, beloved, in his arms: he couldn’t ask for more, couldn’t have any more than this, could only pray she’d forget it. He was her brother - this could only happen when she was not acting as his sister, half-monster, bigger than life.
The dungeon rumbled as they ran out of air, and Falin’s head whipped away from his, eyes scanning the rocks as if she could hear something he couldn’t - was it a dragon’s hearing, or a message to her from the Mad Mage? He couldn’t know.
“I have to go,” she said, almost distracted, raising herself with an ease that definitely belonged to the larger monsters: a swiftness and grace only a dragon could have, with Falin commanding it as if it were second nature (well, he supposed it was first nature, now, considering she was melded to it).
She left, then, before he could find any words to say. Laios kept looking at the dark distance, watching her form disappear into the shadows - and confirming that yes, the hallways did change for her.
Fascinating. He rose from the floor, touching his lips, the warmth of Falin still radiating from them. There was a slight burn, but nothing to worry over. Dusting his clothes, he saw a feather fall down, and picked it up, analyzing it. Visually, it looked exactly like a chicken’s feather, nothing indicating it’d be special or anything.
Still, he knew its origin. Laios returned to their sleeping room, quietly putting it on the bottom of his bag, where it’d be safe.
He hadn’t been able to keep Falin safe, but he’d try his best with the memento of her.
“Where’s the food?” Marcille asked, looking under the pot, and Laios looked away. Somehow, this alerted her sixth sense, and her eyes squinted at him. “Laios.”
“I had something of a midnight snack,” he replied.