Weeks passed by in monotony as Zerah wandered the seemingly deserted lands with Aurora. They crept from place to place, never taking the time to stay on one location longer than a night or two. They became wanderers, searching for a place they could call home, and people they could name their family. More often than not, her cloak shrouded her completely in shadow, concealing her face and the nature of her ancestry from the harsh and critical view of the rest of the human world. Aurora, unfortunately, served as the perfect contrary to her earnest attempts to obscure the heritage of her people so vainly prejudiced against by mankind. The leaping flames of the blue-black horse's mane and tail caught the attention of any passerby, inevitably drawing their eyes to her hooded and cloaked rider, continually shrouded in mystery. It wasn't unusual for them to stop and gape in awe and fear of what they didn't understand, and sometimes gasps of fright and swift departures accompanied these gestures. To these people, Zerah would nod politely and continue on her way, though rarely did she have a set destination in mind. Her life continued like this for weeks that drew into months, each minute growing more dismal as she wondered about her purpose in life.
It wasn't until one night she happened upon a tavern in the center of one of the larger towns she visited, the name of which escaped her, that her lifestyle took a turn for the better. She and Aurora rode into the village in the nighttime, as they traditionally did, just as the very first stars began to wink in the sky and the moon had likewise only just begun its ascent into the night sky. The tavern's well-lit and well-kept façade was the ideal haven from the crisp autumn breeze that blew from the north, signaling the approach of the cold winter months. The cloak that never left her back bare did much to dispel the chill fall weather, but the warmth of an open fire would do more than she could. She slid quietly from the back of her mare and patted her rump gently. The horse would know where to find warmer weather and would do so on her own. The starfire of her mane vanished into the night and Zerah entered the noisy inn door, her presence alerting the attention of only one other cloaked figure, like herself. He wrote furiously in a small notebook placed upon the tabletop until he heard the door swing open on its creaky hinges, upon the hearing of which, he paused for a moment until she took a seat by the fire. She carefully turned a chair around to face backwards, back leaning against the table, and sat forwards in it, resting her forearms on the spindly wood. "A mug of hot water please," she said quietly to the bartender who approached her. Zerah's eyes never left the cloaked figure scribbling in his miniature notebook. She raised a hidden eyebrow nonchalantly when he stopped abruptly, closed the book, and tucked inkwell and quill away, readily accessible nonetheless. She shrugged to herself, an action so miniscule that the cloth of her clothing didn't shift an inch with the movement, and dropped several leaves into the steaming water placed before her, watching tiredly as the tea steeped in the heated liquid. After several moments had passed, she gave the mug a swirl and took a slow sip of the drink, reveling in its delicate flavors. Her eyes soon drifted from him to stare into the enchanting hues of the fire, lost in the mists of thoughts and memory, periodically sipping quietly from her tea.
Several long minutes passed in stony silence as she gazed into the depths of the fire, immersed in her isolated thoughts, but she was drawn back to reality by the scratch of pen on parchment, and her eyes drifted back to the cloaked figure who was hunched over his notebook once more, quill scratching quietly on the rough, thick paper. Curiosity finally got the best of her and she set her half-full mug of tea of her own concoction on the splintery wooden table, along with a few coins to pay for their hospitality. She rose gracefully from her chair to approach the mysterious stranger swathed in black and shadow. He paused for but a moment to look up at her, immediately returning to his frenzied writing without a word. I suppose I'll invite myself to sit down, then. Zerah, equally silent, spun a chair around on one of its legs to face backwards and sank down into it, leaning forward on her elbows resting on the back of the chair. She watched him work for several long moments, though he masked the page on which he wrote with a clever, blasé movement of the material of his long-sleeved shirt. It took her several more moments to realize that he no longer wrote in ink, as had gotten her attention again, but instead held a long, slender shaft of a black substance she assumed to be charcoal. A small smile spread across her lips, concealed by the blessed shadows of the hood of her cloak, and her insatiable curiosity got the best of her. "What are you drawing?" she asked quietly, the sound of her voice coaxing nothing but a pause in his fervent artwork before he returned to concentration on his sketch. Rather than speak, he propped the notebook upright so she could view the landscape with her own eyes.
It depicted a world in black and white, and her eyes were caught by how captivating that world could be. The tavern was alive with rich shadow and deep blacks, as well as several lightly shaded areas. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at his skill. "Very impressive. What is it you write in your notebook?" she asked kindly, slipping tones of persuasion in the underlying strains of the music of her voice. He looked up at her for the first true time that night.
"Thank you." He paused before he articulated an answer to her question. "I write of my travels and of what I observe."
Zerah nodded, satisfied to be content with that answer, and sat upright in her chair, rather than leaning her arms against its back. As she did so, the subtle movement rustled the feathers of her wings, and one snagged on the fabric of her cloak, pulled free from its restraints, and fell gently to the ground, glistening blue in the firelight. She quickly snatched it up with a frantic, lightning quick movement and slipped it into her pack. Her efforts, however, did not escape the cloaked figure's quick eyes.
She could almost discern the surprise and inquisition on his face, even if it was shrouded in the dark shadows cast by his hooded cloak, and she sighed heavily with displeasure at her own mistake. Before he could ask, as she could see he would, Zerah hastened to explain. "Don't even begin to ask," she said quickly. "It'd be easier simply to provide an explanation by showing you." Slowly he nodded his consent, and Zerah took several nervous glances around the now-emptying tavern. She reluctantly slid the cloak off of her shoulders and let her wings feathered in shades of blue and black unfurl carefully, watching their enchanting sparkle in the firelight with satisfaction before she removed the hood of her cloak as well to reveal her conspicuous yet warm and appealing features. Her gold-and-copper hair tumbled from the hood, spilling down her back in luxurious waves of burnished Firelight. Her deep brown eyes glowed with a similar warm light, twinkling occasionally with the light of the Stars. A small, amused smile had settled on her lips as she watched in curiosity to see what his reaction would be. Though she could not see his face, she could sense that his eyes grew wide as he scrambled to sketch on his paper what had been revealed to his eyes, along with the few observers in the inn's tavern.
"My name's Zerah," she said in a hushed voice, holding her hand out to the man to take. He paused for a moment in his sketches and took her hand to shake it firmly.
"Vare," he replied, and returned to his sketches.
Zerah smiled. She liked the way that this man worked.
It was through him that she came to meet several of her friends. It seemed that the biped dragon knew many people, and she was introduced to his closest allies, to find that she, too, would become well acquainted with them. It wouldn't be long before she accepted them as family, and the only family she'd ever had.