[open] A WINNAR IS ME (and my champion)

[needsmoarshiny]

The Mansion may have heard, in the distance, the sounds of roaring, and flame, and fighting, and eventually the swooping of large wingbeats. Should any come out to investigate

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[tricky_bowman]

If Maedhros is paying attention, he might notice a man, bandaged but in the gear of a warrior (a marchwarden, perhaps, or a ranger of sorts), leaning against the dragon.

Tristan, at any rate, does notice him, and stands, if tiredly. "Easy," he tells Iskierka. "This one will need to be reassured - I can tell it in his stance."

But already, he's waving at the elf with his good arm, his demeanor friendly and nonthreatening. His weapon is a bow - he's not bracing, though, and has left it at his back. He'd probably unsheathe his sword if necessary - it's the only weapon he can use, wounded as he is.

Sorry it took forever. S'been a busy few days. Hold on for Iski, aye?

[needsmoarshiny]

Iskierka shifts a little to be more protectively around Tristan, eying the stranger - glaring at, really - with keen suspicion. "I will not if he doesn't," she says primly, "But I don't like the way that he is looking at me, and if he looks like doing anything to you I will be very upset."

[tricky_bowman]

"I've taken all the necessary care," Tristan replies, "she refused to fight me, and is now my steed. There is no fear to be had with the good dragon Iskierka."

He bows, and adds, "Pray take for it the word of Tristan the dragonslayer, son of Rivalen and Blancheflor, nephew of Marc'h of Cornwall, in the service of the beautiful Isolde of Ireland."

[needsmoarshiny]

Iskierka looks - ticked. She draws her head up, clearly and ferociously indignant. "Creatures? Creatures! I beg your pardon, I will have you know -"

She told Tristan she would behave, but that is such an insult! Hissed, to her champion, "You won't let him talk to me like that, will you?

[tricky_bowman]

"Yes, the good dragon," Tristan replies, firmly, and his tone brooks no doubt. "And my steed and friend, indeed, as you can see by the harness she still bears. She has done a great thing this day, and does not deserve to be treated unkindly."

His bodily posture probably indicates that he will bodily interfere if Maedhros seeks to attack Iskierka, but it's defensive more than offensive. If Maedhros looks at the man, he will also note that he is wounded and bandaged - and yet willing to make a stand for his friend.

[needsmoarshiny]

She would stick out her tongue at Mae. If dragons did such things. Which they don't. "I think you ought to talk to me if you're going to speak like that," Iskierka says, huffily, "If you're going to insult someone at least do it to their face, You are very - very rude."

[tricky_bowman]

Tristan is silent and lets Iskierka speak for herself, then.

[needsmoarshiny]

She snorts, and turns her head away, proudly. "Now I am not certain that I want to talk to you at all," she says, rather huffily. "I do not generally like to talk to rude people. But since you asked..."

[needsmoarshiny]

"...you didn't even say please." She turns her head away, and curls a little more protectively around Tristan. "And my champion is hurt. Tristan, can you tell him to go away?"

[tricky_bowman]

Tristan's hand rests on the dragon's scales, quite fondly - soothingly, like a big brother, and his tone is definitely that of an adult talking to someone very young. "Easy, Iskierka. Let me explain, perhaps - this one is of those who knew the other kinds of dragons - those who don't have riders, I reckon."

So, to reinstate order and avoid further confusion, next is Iskierka, then Mae, then Tristan again, and so on.

[needsmoarshiny]

She siiighs. "Thank you, Tristan," she says, rather loftily. "I am sorry that you have to, but you are very gracious."

So there!