This is an RP for Baby; please post your introduction here.

The search for ingredients often lead him far away from the solitary tower that he called his home, not that the silently wandering, purple-clad mage could bring himself to care. The forest was the most glorious spectacle of moon-bathed blacks and slivers, the colours of the day bleached into a glorious monochrome that just hinted the bright secrets hiding under the cloak of shadows. Mero smiled at his own idyllic thinking, and blamed his mind’s flowing, surreal eloquence on the moon; spilling quicksilver light down upon him from her full seat in the Heavens... For a long, forbidden moment, he found himself standing in a long shaft of pure light; arms stretched wide, voluminous sleeves rippling softly in the breeze, his eyes turned upwards as he let himself get lost in the mystery of the moon.

It could have been moments later that he shook himself free of her spell, but it felt like he had been swimming in her depths for hours, his own internal magic singing her praises in a voice that was difficult to ignore. It took longer still to shake his spell from his shoulders and step back into the shadows, letting the canopy close back over his head. It smelled strongly of summer time; an earthy, natural scent that Mero found comforting that rose each time the rough foot of his staff struck the leaf litter. It was dry outside the reaches of the forest, but here the trees managed to safeguard water, securing the earth enough so that pools and streams remained.

He was searching for flowers that bloomed in moonlight, a task that he greatly enjoyed, and the little pack that he carried across his shoulders was a welcome weight; he had found several bright stones so far that would be perfect for casting at a later date, but as of yet no moonflowers. If it hadn’t have been for the time constraints (the moon would only be full for one night, and he couldn’t wait for the next moon), Mero would have chosen to remain in the embrace of the trees and moonlight, but his desire for ingredients was pressing, and as such he plunged deeper into the wood.

The flowers grew more frequently beside water, and as such Mero took his staff in hand, the moonstone at its tip glowing faintly in the favourable conditions. A whispered spell had a cool, almost liquid sensation washing along his arm; he swept his tool in a slow arc, feeling the pull of water from behind his closed eyelids. It was always easier for a mage of the moon to find water, and Mero was well practiced in that particular art, having chosen somewhere hot and dry to spend the majority of his time. It was, perhaps, not the most well suited of homes, but the lack of open bodies of water was made up for, in his mind, by the uninterrupted views, the vast open spaces, and the heat that his constant companion craved.

As if awakened by his thoughts (or, perhaps, his slow sweeping gestures and subsequent padding through the forest towards water), the cool, scaly presence at his breast shifted. Wrapped around his body, under his robes so that she could benefit from his uninterrupted body heat, Ptera yawned, tensing her sinuous form for a moment before she slowly worked her way into a better position. It took a moment, but she settled again, her pointed head resting under his arm, her wings half spread at his sides in a manner that made Mero chuckle and squirm. Normally, Mero would have been against allowing her inside his clothing, but the night was cold and he couldn’t bear the thought of her chilling in the crisp darkness; they really were a long way from home.

He was somewhat distracted by his thoughts, so that when he came upon the water he remained for a moment, oblivious to the fact that there was another close at hand. The light on the water was enchanting, a magic all of its own, and he stood captivated by the glisten of silver reflections at the crest of each spiralling ripple.

That was, of course, until a figure shifted close at hand and Mero found himself practically face to face with a woman in an advanced state of undress.

When faced with a very, very naked female, Mero’s mind effectively stalled. It was not that he hadn’t seen a naked woman before (he had, in books), but the fact that there was one so blatantly displayed in a place where he had assumed he would be alone. For a long moment, he just stared, mindless of manners and the proper behaviour in such a situation. Honestly, was there some social protocol set aside to manage such a situation? What did one do[ when met with an illogically naked woman in a deserted forest at night? The only thing that Mero could coherently think of was backing away slowly, hoping fervently that he hadn’t been seen.

Unfortunately, it became immediately apparent that such tactics were off limits, as the woman looked up and saw him. Mero would later be ashamed to say that he had no memory of her face, eye-colour, or any other distinguishing feature other than her breasts, which, quite frankly, horrified him to no end, but for a moment he found himself more concerned by her reaction. Fear on her face, mouth opened wide, chest moving sharply; a scream. He frightened her; not embarrassment, but fear written all across her features as she exploded with some form of magic and shot off into the air.

The sound seemed to alarm Ptera, who tensed, surging out of Mero’s collar in a rush of dark scales and unfurling wings to rocket into the sky after the woman. Mero, shocked beyond belief and already panicking over the loss of Ptera, hesitated for a long moment. He clearly scared this woman, and she was powerful; a conflict was not something that he wanted to provoke, but when faced with the sudden lack of Ptera...

With the guidance of the moonlight falling upon his quarry and the faint traces of her magic linger on the edges of his perception; Mero broke into a sprint, following the fleeing woman and his missing dragon.

Small, possessive, and shooting like a scaly arrow towards he quarry; not thinking of hurting, or fighting, of capture; it was all for the chase. Her Mero had been alarmed, heart beat-beating against her delicate skin, and then the sound! So loud! She had looked with night-time eyes, seeing in the dark, and found the creature making the noise. Female. Strange. Suddenly moving! Ptera had been powerless to push aside her instincts; she had given chase at top speed.

She had not expected her quarry to be vicious, however; this was just a game to Ptera, perusing an unwanted visitor that had strayed too close to her Mero? Possibly. Her teeth were retracted all the same, flight aiming to catch up to, rather than to attack. The bolt of power hit her chest, lava! Soulfire burning through scales and lightning! Stormfire!

Ptera fell from the sky like a shooting star; burning.

On the ground, Mero was aware of magic happening up above; he could feel the backwash of power on his skin, the acid tang of offense... he blanched, realising that there were no bolts flying towards the ground, none towards him... Ptera!

The forest, the beauty, the midnight flowers; all was forgotten as he threw himself into a mad dash, branches ripping at his skin, tearing his clothing and knocking his hat away to be left forgotten on the leafy ground. He didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t hear Ptera’s anguished shriek as she plummeted towards the canopy, he had to know!

He stopped, skidding through the slippery leaf litter and almost losing his footing, but he corrected his position in mere moments. He could still feel her above him; he wasn’t too late. With his staff thrust erect, the tip glowing, he wove together thought and moonlight, projecting an image of himself before her flight path, the illusion moon-eyed and terrible to behold in seconds, for his conjured self saw no beating dragon wings in the sky.

It became apparent when the woman caught the falling dragon that Ptera was still awake, and despite her chest being a smouldering mess of displaced scales dripping with a greenish blood; aware. Her black and silver eyes were opened as wide as they would go, a crazed terror mixing with pain in their depths to form a rabid kind of fury; there was no fire in her when so gravely damaged, but her teeth were still perfectly functional, as were her back claws.

Feebly, Ptera growled, dragging herself with a pathetic level of pained, frenzied movement into a tight curl. Her sinuous limbs wrapped around her slender body, back legs tucked up and front legs attempting to shield her damaged chest. Her tail, almost as long as her body and equipped with four fins (a small set close to her rump and a larger pair at the tip), was brought around to shield her. She hissed, sharp teeth flashing, and expanded the ruff of scaly skin around her neck into a vividly patterned hood.

On the ground, some distance away now, Mero growled incoherently in frustration; a sound that never met his ears, wordless and raw in his strange, secret voice. She had dropped out of the sky before he had been able to see her with his illusion, but the glimpse he had managed in combination with the echo of her magic had told him one vital thing: she had harmed Ptera. Mero’s eyes were a hard, unusual brick orange set in a dark face, and with his hat gone his hair was revealed to be of the same hue.

Atypical of a moon mage and more suited to fire in appearance, currently torn, bloody and furious, Mero broke into a sprint, heading towards Ptera and her assailant.

Incandescent with fury, Mero burst into the clearing that held his most precious pet and her attacker, flowing robes swooping around him in a purple wave, hair flying loose from its braid to hang around his face in angry red tangles, staff aloft and glowing with an echo of his anger. His eyes fell first upon Ptera, who was in quite the sorry state, her wide eyes seeming to plead with him from across the clearing. Had this creature been toying with Ptera? Had she harmed her in some way that Mero could not yet see?

His simmering orange gaze shifted towards the creature as she moved, lips rising up into a snarl of a grin as he raised his staff a little higher, casting her into the light of its glow. It allowed him to see her properly, and doubled as a clear threat: if she tried anything she would soon regret it. He judged her to be some sort of elemental, given her appearance and powers, though not a type that he was familiar with; he would have to take care if this came to combat, but he was confident that, under the light of the full moon, he could succeed in beating this feral thing down to size should it come to that.

Mero held his ground as she came closer, getting very much into his space; he refrained from beating her back with his staff (magically or otherwise), for at least a moment, seeing what she would do when unchallenged. She was clearly making some form of aggressive display given her posture, but Mero refused to rise; let this be done without blows of any kind, he hoped. He could win, he could likely kill or incapacitate her, but it seemed both distasteful and a waste of life (or, at least that’s what he tried to tell himself).

Her mouth opened and smoke poured forth, rendering Mero confused and immediately at a disadvantage; he could see her anger, and assumed that she was shouting angry words at him, but at the same time he could not be sure. It alarmed him, to think that he had gone from a position of power to one of uncertainty, but he refused to let such things show upon his face. It was better to bluff than to reveal his sadly lacking hand.

“You have harmed my dragon,” he said, after giving her a moment to stop speaking (he hoped). His voice, thick and strange, was nonetheless commanding in his anger; the emotion there was clear, but raw, his voice unrefined even by the most loose of standards. “Now step aside so that I might reclaim her, creature.” His words were bigger than his courage, but he fought not to let that show.