The supreme art of war…

There was absolutely no reason for Tempest to attend the Battle Royale, in her opinion. There were enough Healers signed up, and really she should have been heading up the infirmary. She didn’t think any of her apprentices were ready to be left alone, but between a number of them, she just about had one competent Trainee. Plus, they had to be left alone at some point to learn, and with a large majority at the Battle, Tempest couldn’t imagine there being much for them to do. She had, however, still given them the clear instruction that, were anything dire to occur, she was to be messengered immediately. In the interest of fostering a more accepting community, though, Tempest was willing to commit her time and skills to the biggest event of the season. Perhaps if people saw that that fae weren’t as bad as they were portrayed, she could heal people in peace. Where people had gotten some of their stories from, she didn’t know, but proving people wrong was one of her favourite pastimes!

As ever, Tempest was flying to her destination – walking just seemed to take far too long, and she was skittish around horses. Plus, she needed the exercise if she was going to go on that excursion to the Wildes that she had been planning for years. As she travelled, barely above the level of the treetops, she could pick out certain faces that she had seen before, and she made a little game of trying to remember their names and when last she had seen them. It wasn’t a shock to learn that all of them had come to her at the infirmary rather than through a personal connection. The roads were packed with wagons, stalls, carriages, and pedestrians, and Tempest smirked at the ease of her passage. That smirk quickly turned into a scowl when she heard a strident voice cut through the general din.

”Who the fuck is in charge of this mess?!”

Tempest rolled her eyes, then quickly scouted for a place to land, already taking steps forward as her feet touched the floor. She couldn’t see over the heads of the commuters, but that didn’t matter. All she had to do was go the opposite way to the scared looking people, and she’d find the source quickly enough. A set of wings pinpointed her destination, and Tempest was almost there when a regal tone answered the aggressive question. Tempest’s gaze darted to the woman, and recognition dawned. The Elven Princess, Eolande. Composed and diplomatic she might be, but she couldn’t hope to survive a conversation with Ruthalla without assistance. She stepped up behind and slightly to the side of the princess, attempting to garner her attention without touching her. ”With all due respect, Princess, that is unlikely to happen.” Her tone indicated a vague amusement at the fact, but it was really more disbelief – Ruthalla had never been the type to be silenced.

Tempest’s gaze switched over to Ruth, and she shook her head, huffing a bemused laugh. ”Why is it that whenever there’s shouting, you’re in the middle of it?” Tempest asked, not in the slightest bit curious about the answer. So uninterested, in fact, that she left barely a second until she spoke again. ”Surely you are meant to be at the battleground already? You know full well that all fighters are to have a pre-fight checkup.” As she sounded like she was chastising the hybrid, a few people that had stopped to watch (far enough away to be out of danger, of course) sucked in a gasp of surprise. Tempest almost laughed.

… is to subdue the enemy without fighting.

Ruth couldn't tell who was more infuriating. The fae or the lady of station. Tempest laughed at her, as she sometimes did, telling her she was getting involved with things of no concern to her. That may be true, but Ruth couldn't simply turn a blind eye when things clearly weren't right. Now if only these fools would listen and do as they were told.

Tempest spoke more, the insult momentarily flying over the half-dragons head. Ruth narrowed her eyes at the fae as she shooed at her, and another growl rippled from her as she prepared to retort. Very angrily so.

But she didn't get to before the princess spoke. Her demand for respect brought foul memories back for the hybrid. Ruth wasn't a dragon. She wasn't an elf either and both species were quick to discard her all throughout her life. And yet here comes an elf, demanding respect which Ruth never even got a lick of in her life from her ilk.

It was enough to make her blood boil. Ruth turned to Eolande, steam rolling out of flaring nostrils as sheer rage played over the hybrid's face. Fire flickered across her shoulders, and the woman leaned forth ever so slightly, motion stiff as though a chain restrained her like a rabid dog. The two guards brandishing their weapons went ignored, not even getting a twitch from Ruth, as she was too busy readying all her anger for Eolande.

Until Tempest stepped in, putting herself squarely between them and speaking. Such a brave action from the little fae jolted Ruth out of her rage. Eolande wasn't the one to blame for her past. She wasn't one of the elves that caged her, or the ones that put her on display like some freak of nature. Eolande was prissy, demanding as any noble, but she wasn't to blame.

Fierce yellow eyes went down to Tempest. The fae was infuriating, but she had to hand it to her. She had one damn strong backbone, the kind battlefield medics often have. Containing her anger, Ruth gave a slow, long sigh, before one clawed hand went to grasp the little woman's shoulder. The hybrid's motion was tense, as though she had to carefully measure and restrain herself, as she pulled the fae aside so she wasn't in the way anymore.

Ruth drilled into her with fiery eyes, waiting until their gazes met.

"Tempest." Ruth growled, her tone still angry but restrained, as though she were a cross parent speaking to a very annoying child. "Never put yourself between me and a blade." She said and gave the slightest of squeezes to the shoulder she held, letting her claws prick the woman just a little to emphasize her point.

"Ever." Tone sharp and clipped, she released her finally, before turning her gaze to Eolande. Still ignoring the guards, Ruth raised one arm to be parallel with the ground, open palm down and careful not to point the limb at anyone in particular. "I have abilities that are useful." She rumbled at the princess, and a touch of magic later a few pebbles and chunks of dirt leapt off the ground, pressing against her open palm and staying there against gravity's pull.

"So, if you don't mind, Eolande." The hybrid went on, tone growing sharp once more as she had trouble battling her own pride. "I would like to help." She said, letting the bits of dirt and rock drop from her hand on their own accord. Her gaze went to the guards, then back to her, in an unspoken threat that if they don't put their blades away soon, she'd make them.