Light.
The first thing Ruotuo saw after opening his eyes was light—dazzling, living light, not the unbroken dark that felt no different from blindness. How wonderful.
And standing before that light was a being more steadfast than any stone, a presence that seemed as eternal as bedrock itself.
Torn from the depths, the rock-dragon realized for the first time that even a stone on the earth could shine in rivalry with the heavens. The figure who granted him sight—his grandeur—etched itself into the dragon's mind at first glance.
Then a white blur popped into the tableau and ruined the solemnity.
"So it really can see now?" Snow Kui floated up beside Ruotuo's skull and rapped a knuckle against the newly formed corneal plates. Tok, tok.
Fortunately, Ruotuo was a good-natured sort. He wasn't inclined to anger to begin with, and for the sake of the one who'd brought the Archon here, he certainly wouldn't swat the man's little ward. In a way, the yaksha was half a benefactor, too. If not for Snow Kui leading Morax down, who knew how many more millennia he would've slept in stone?
Morax plucked Snow Kui out of swatting range and asked the dragon, voice steady.
"I am Morax. Do you bear a name?"
"I am Ruotuo."
The dragon's tone carried a hint of reverence.
He has a name already… Morax felt a faint, inexplicable loss. Lately he'd been in the mood to bestow names—first the child was snatched by Guizhong, now even this dragon came pre-named.
"Your strength matches mine. There's no need for such deference," he said at last. "Though bound by contract, you're no subordinate. It would be unfair to call you so. Henceforth, let us be friends."
"Friends…"
Ruotuo murmured the word. He understood it; he simply had no experience to put against it.
"Brother Ruotuo, do you know how to take human form? Walking the surface will be far more convenient," Morax added.
Snow Kui immediately butted in. "He's been underground forever. How would he possibly—"
"Must I merely resemble the shape of you two?" Ruotuo asked, quite simply.
"Ha?" Snow Kui blinked. Morax nodded once.
"Hey, big guy, don't pretend you understand," Snow Kui scolded.
Ruotuo hesitated—not in confusion, but in courtesy. "Shapeshifting is a simple art, is it not? What difficulty is there?"
Did mortals mean something else by "shapeshifting"?
Snow Kui sniffed. "Don't brag. You've never even studied techniques. How could you possibly—"
"Do you… not know how?" Ruotuo asked him, honestly puzzled.
Snow Kui choked. He jabbed a finger up at the enormous dragon, so angry he forgot how to talk. "Y-you—you—!"
The more he failed to find words, the more his finger trembled.
This one can face outward in battle and settle the snows within, Morax thought, eyes warm with approval. Honest to a fault, and his strength sat right where it needed to be—no more, no less—to handle the child. Equal to mine, indeed.
Ignoring Snow Kui's sputtering, Ruotuo considered his shape. He had scant memory for the faces of the little folk he'd sensed above—he never paid attention to them. He needed a reference.
He looked up at Morax, then shook his head. Best not to borrow the form of one's benefactor.
He turned to the little yaksha who was still hopping mad.
A sheath of golden Geo wrapped his body. The vast shape compressed in a breath, light dwindled—and when it cleared, a tall figure stood where the dragon had been. The man wore the same white drape as Morax, with snowy hair and clean, upright features set over honest muscle. He looked… suspiciously like a grown-up, broad-shouldered Snow Kui.
Snow Kui landed, stared at Ruotuo's seven-tenths resemblance, and felt profoundly offended by reality.
"Why'd you choose my face?"
"There were no other references nearby," Ruotuo answered plainly. "And I will not presume to appropriate my benefactor's visage."
Staring at the taller, sturdier version of himself, the ice-adeptus felt a distinctly non-Cryo chill crawl up his spine. "Even if you had to, did you need to make it that big?"
Ruotuo blinked his brand-new eyes. "My true body is vast. A much smaller frame would feel… cramped."
Meaning: your shell is too short to house my inner greatness?
Snow Kui stamped, conjured an ice spear, and charged with a spirited "Waaagh!"
Ruotuo, very politely, didn't understand why the cub was angry—and even less why he'd rush in a straight line, ignoring the gulf in power.
The mortal world was very hard.
A moment later, Snow Kui was once again in his signature posture—hips up, face to the dirt, a long string of question marks written across his cheek.
He'd stood up… and then immediately been put down?
I've brushed the edge of Principles. How am I flattened this fast?
Are dragon-shaped beings just unfair by default?
Morax, for his part, saw it clearly. Ruotuo was scrupulously measured: not a drop more force than needed, not a hair less. Enough to subdue the child, no malice. Truly on par with himself.
If Snow Kui hadn't rushed in to play, he might have exchanged a few proper bouts.
Morax escorted Ruotuo and a bruised but intact Snow Kui back to Guizhong's settlement. Even from afar, he saw Guizhong waiting at the boundary. He sighed.
Too deep in the mortal stream, he thought wryly. Picking up their unnecessary feelings… standing there like a mother waiting at the village gate for her child to come home.
As they drew near and he caught the look on her face, Morax moderated his own expression.
"Guizhong—"
"So you do remember to bring him back?"
The Geo Archon was, for once, at a loss.
"I made him guide me, so I kept him safe."
"That's not what you said when he disappeared for three months."
Morax fell silent. Since when was she this petty about old debts?
He glanced back at Ruotuo. In truth, the child was a lucky star—high potential in himself, and since meeting him, Morax had somehow gained a fledgling crane and a dragon-king as strong as himself. Fortune, as they said, was trending up.
Feeling suddenly playful, he said, "Then… lend him to me for three more months? Let him sit as a mascot and stabilize the luck of my domain?"
Guizhong's face darkened. She seized Snow Kui's hand and swept him inward.
"From now on, stay away from that wooden-headed old rock."
"Uh? Oh… okay…"
Snow Kui, thoroughly briefed and thoroughly confused, nodded obediently.
Morax stood there, a picture of sighing regret.
Friendship is like sand on the shore—one wave of years, and it's gone.
He clapped Ruotuo on the shoulder, as if delivering some sage instruction.
"Remember, Ruotuo: walk with the order of men, but do not pick up their vulgar habits."
Ruotuo's Snow-Kui-like wide-eyed confusion mirrored the child's perfectly. Morax added, mournfully:
"Above all, never try to imitate the tempers of women. That way lies ruin."
Ruotuo: "…"
Snow Kui: "…"
The two exchanged a silent look that said: This old dragon… may be beyond saving.
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