when she'd come through one of the secret entrances from the bluffs, it had been on the upper floor, almost directly into the family room. her bedroom was only a hop-skip up spiral stone stairs. and even then, the place had been untouched (for the most part). rifled through, some valuables taken, but unsettlingly otherwise as it was.

part of her expected the same. 

so color her surprised when lyune immediately bristles, baring fangs as soon as the scent of intruders hits his tongue. that surprise has her tugging her sword from its scabbard, arm snapping out to split its blade. plex shoots from one curved end to the other, stringing to a bow, and she nocks an arrow with a grimace. 

lyune passes her, head tilting with frills extended from his head, listening to the scratching and clawing and breathing of that which dwells in their space. 

and she is privy to exactly how much of her home has been molested by rocket in her wake. rage is a fire in her veins. old oak doors, older than her father was, torn from their place. walls carved by the ancestors of countless dragon keepers before her, mutilated. 

she's greeted to her late father's study, completely gutted and transformed. lyune's head snakes through the threshold where double oak doors once stood, too large to squeeze through.

but she does. her golds flicker from the baxcalibur, to the goomy, and finally to the person - no, avatar, standing nonplussed and waiting. 

"get out."

mint frost

☉

it's a pile of shit, made to make her angry. property taxes, after all this time, have leaked from her bank account, and the morningstars may have passed, but their legacy remains. political figures themselves, she's fairly certain theodore had dined with the mayor himself. 

but it's been three years, freya.

three years for rocket to appeal to the masses, to place its own agents in local government, to sink time and money and resources into ensuring these people never take them back. 

the state of her books is what stays her hand. the morningstars come from keepers, handlers to the draconid lineages that she'd thought had died out. theodore was a practical man; much of what the rocket has read regarding the logistics of raising dragons probably came from him. 

her mother was the one enthralled by fables. 

but those books had been procured by Remiel Calcifet before the intrusion. she sends silent thanks to him. her arrowhead follows the avatar's movements. 

"we safeguarded traditions and culture, not scientific breakthroughs," she scoffs. it gives her an inkling, though, to what's in front of her. 

information. they may have exhumed the corpse of her abandoned home, but they have also brought a wealth of treasure ripe for the picking. she takes a step closer and looses her first arrow to test the waters. 

her skin itches for a fight, prickling at the seams. somewhere, up in the clouds, her patron sends a warning. freya closes her mind and the cape on her sygna suit fills with red life instead.

"you want draconid bones?" she says. "come and get them."

mint frost

☉

they don't take the bait. in fact, they don't seem put off by freya in the slightest. it makes her bristle. it makes her angry. her sygna suit flickers; her patron's consciousness brushes hers more forcefully, dampening fury and rage with a reminder of all that hangs in the balance. 

but to stain her image any longer, to know that someone might see them walk out, unscathed and intact, after squatting in her home for years, is maddening.

the books, touched by her father's hands, make her hesitate.

"freya might still destroy her own home if you piss her off enough. why would you give me anything? feel bad after taking my city and squatting in my home for years?"

mint frost

☉

lyune growls lowly and freya tilts her head. unlike her dragon partner, she can't sense the psychic energy like a bad taste in the air, but she notices the way their chair moves. the books had hung in the air, but she'd written it off as a show of bravado, but to see their powers used so nonchalantly makes her instantly feel outclassed.

whatever storms she'd summoned or warded away during the assault would never manifest as easily in a setting like this. even the winds, she's sure, she would struggle with. 

she eases the tension on her bow and irritably shoves her arrow back in her quiver. 

"we did more for this city than your ilk ever have," she spits back, jaw setting. she's felt lost before, and recently she's felt more found than ever, but now, with the rug ripped out from under her, every word laden with their insufferable superiority makes her smaller.

"you - know my lineage," she says, brows furrowing. it took her a trip to the damn border to find her last name. the question on her face betrays her. 

frost prickles the back of her neck at kyurem's name. the growling beside her is not lyune; it's that ever-present nightmare, always one step behind, always following. her fingers twitch. 

"put the monster back where it came from," she says icily. "like we've done before."

mint frost

☉

her eyes flash as a twisted truth falls digitized behind their masked face. her stare is calculated, ignoring the prickle of irritation from his jab at her family name. it's all meant to get a rise out of her anyway. but this means - 

walsh didn't tell his higher-ups? or at least, his 'beasts?'

what would they think of him, then, if they knew he'd lured the league to him in the first place. if they knew he invited them into his city to wreak destruction, knowing at the end of the day, only a truce could be had. 

"the draconid sect my lineage comes from was founded in sootopolis. my ancestors revered rayquaza." but Roy Aker lived in unova for some time and though he hadn't known about freya, about his blood, maybe he knew something. 

"you have the light stone," she says. "and it touched kyurem. can't you trace it back?" her hand goes to ghost a black scale that's no longer there, returned months ago. that's how they pinpointed rayquaza's location in kyurem's realm.

"or do you need the league to solve all of your meddling affairs with the gods?" she says cryptically, lip curling over a sharp canine. 

mint frost

☉

"you stay the fuck away from roy," she snarls, fangs bared. her cousin could protect himself; he's a zinnia, after all, but she'll not have him used as a plaything by a rocket beast. not this one, especially, though she's sure her quick-to-anger cousin would be able to give as good a tongue lashing as he gets. 

it's a wonder her teeth don't crack from how hard she's gritting them. nepo baby. 2 term. ceasefire. city lost. all of her failures are shoved to the forefront of her mind; the back of her neck warms with humiliation and anger. 

"kyurem's eaten another universe's rayquaza," she says slowly, brows furrowed, eyes like slits. forking over any information makes her stomach hurt, but terse words accompany slow, warning steps forward. "and it hunted ours, but it failed. and whatever rift it hopes to claw through will be held fast by our palkia."

mint frost

☉