the book has Eva Morales's signature. she'd remembered it, somehow, while in her hotel room, reheating alolan style chicken leftovers for eva. it hadn't been forgotten before, but after prismatic penitentiary, after eva wouldn't wake up, she'd tucked it away and tried not to think about it. 

now, it's in the storeroom of the draciary, a hop-skip away from where she currently sits in her council office at hq. the whites of her eyes are lined with red. a cold cup of coffee rests near her wrist. fingers tap away at keys. 

supply routes need looking over. weather reports, including fluctuations from primal energies, are delivered by the hour so she can fine-tune their deployment strategy. when she realizes she's been staring at the same paragraph for three minutes, she forces herself to lean back in her chair and rub her eyes. 

naturally, she startles at the commotion just outside her door.

by the time he's drawn up to his feet, the councilwoman's door has opened, and freya is there in the threshold. "you can let him go," she says to security, who share a look before promptly releasing howard and leaving. 

freya raises a brow. "did i not tell you i have open office hours? on tuesdays." it's wednesday.

howard slayte

☉

"well, i'm no teacher," she says, though her mouth quirks. that's not entirely true anymore. she teaches Caleb Harcourt draconic every week alongside their sparring lessons. and delta now too, much to the enjoyment of the girl's favorite raging bolt, and much to the chagrin of KING WAYLAND .

even he's picked up a few words now.

she looks back at her office.

"yes, actually, but believe it or not, those can wait." the readings will change in another hour anyway and she'll need to revert her changes. her field ops will blow up her email, but that's what Gwendolyn Conway is for now. 

poor girl.

"walk with me. i don't have the book here." her eyes sparkle. "it's at the league draciary."

howard slayte

☉

"no, they eat hundreds of pounds of meat and fish," she says with a smile, though she's sure some of the juveniles would chew on books if left to their own devices. howard needn't fret though. she's smart enough not to put a library right next to the dragon dens. 

a stone walkway leads them through the eastern side of ever grande. 

"don't worry. i won't let them." her tone is still light, almost playful, but within her jests is truth - they could, and would, should she command it so.

amiable silence wraps around them because she is not one for small talk. her steps are brisk, innately going through the motions of the persistent anxiety that snaps at her heels every day. she doesn't notice it anymore; most people walk quickly, and with purpose, around league hq these days. 

there is little idle chatter, few people on the streets, and fewer conversations that are filled with idle pleasantries. 

when they reach the mouth of the main cave, she does not pause. the air is humid, albeit cool, and very quickly, as they leave ever grande proper completely behind, the sounds of dragons are unearthed. just ahead, high-pitched squeaks make freya tilt her head. 

"prismari," she coos and, coaxed at the sound of her mistress, the noibat flutters down from its perch to alight on her shoulder. he tries to lean over and nibble on howard's hat.

and then, as they step out from the shadows, they are greeted with the rolling manmade landscape crawling with well over two hundred dragons. staff hands look up at her entrance; some of them wave cheerily, others keep their heads down, too focused on keeping fingers intact while they feed or tend to some of the residents. 

above, flyers drift in and out of dens.

"i thought you might appreciate seeing it in full. you know, with your interest in the book and all," she admits, somewhat sheepishly. 

howard slayte

☉

"you forget where i come from," she says with a lilt. her father's previous editions of dragonology discussed his hands-on experience and the workings of their own established draciary. granted, there's a chance he hadn't read anything before her own publication, which is supplemental at best. 

"Eva Morales built it, actually, to nurse rayquaza back to health before meteno." and how long it's been since then. "but when rayquaza no longer needed it, and with my dragons displaced, well, we called it serendipity. i'd helped my theodore manage the estate in the past so it took little convincing when i had the numbers ready. it helped that we'd worked as contractors for the league before. and now? they're still technically mine, but they're leased out to the rangers and military.

"they're given purpose." instead of languishing in the waters outside pacifidlog or stuffed in pokeballs where their talons might dull and their spirits might flicker to mere embers. but it's not home. and that much is plain by the slightly pained look on her face, the way she turns her shoulder to brush away from the conversation. 

"have you considered research grants? i think i may have mentioned him before, but Remiel Calcifet might be interesting in patronizing."

howard slayte

☉

"mm, well, they rarely come down from the ozone layer now," she says. her eyes betray the false apology, but she skirts her gaze elsewhere, able to with as much movement teeming around them. they feel them, even now - soft embers under their skin. and they could sink themselves into the fire, read the pulse of energy through her veins, but the secret is still draped around her like a cloak.

and besides, she knows what she'll hear.

"i'm not sure," she says, drawn from her thoughts, tilting her chin down from where she'd been gazing at the top of the dome.

"i'm starting to think there are no good men. just people who make bad decisions." she sighs. "but i think he's tried to atone, to distance himself from admin fox. i don't think he's the same man." with surety, she adds, "people can change."

howard slayte

☉

she shrugs at his blasé response. remiel has been a kind man to her and has done her more favors than he's needed to. his work in the amnesty program is commendable and from what he's seen of his actions, he has tried to atone. she can't say for certain how she feels about his relationship to zekrom, but the fact that he'd let the league detain them for any amount of time is evidence for his allegiance. 

still, she wouldn't call him friend. those are far and few between, reserved only for her closest confidants. but they don't dwell on him anyway. 

"i don't know that i've met anyone who is wholly good, but...i also don't know that human nature is evil." she looks down at her hands, thinking of how they'd pressed against ana's that fateful day on her cramped balcony. 

"we have an incredible capacity for cruelty, yes, but i think whether or not we wield it comes from circumstance. that's partly why i do what i do." their meandering takes them to a small office tucked away from the dens, beside some tack and other supplies.

she rummages around in a desk overflowing with paperwork and ahas when she finds it. 

"i'm trying to build a better league. and anyway, here it is, signed by myself and our lovely professor."

howard slayte

☉

we need our city back, but i won't have it in ruins.

how the lies tasted so sweet upon her tongue. the truth lay in her sentiment - she wants her home, her people, delivered whole, and they cannot help the leviathan that is inexplicably drawn to the crater, but war cannot be made without casualty. 

but deep in her bones she feels time march around in its ouroboros circle, each step another one towards doom. peacemaker, too sickly, too drained to carry on. and now they've chosen a warmonger. 

a storm-bringer.

"i've heard that before," she says, reminiscent of soft eyes, promises that she isn't a terrible person because when her hand is forced, at least she has the audacity to agonize over the faux decision. 

a muscle in her cheek flicks at his question. her condition is one of the league's most well-kept secrets. and with anyone else, perhaps she could have continued on with the cold shoulder, but a little bit of anguish swims in her expression before she can catch herself. 

smiling widely, "she's good. busy, like the rest of us. not enough time for a face-to-face unfortunately, but she sends her regards."

howard slayte

☉