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Fros goes to the council thingy. More background. Blah Blah.
Rating will go up to Mature next chapter, due to violence.
Have fun.



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The Elder Council (Fros just called them Elderly because that’s what they were….and nosy old buggers to boot) was a group of representatives from the five major Otherkyn lines. Fae, Shifters, Dragon, Undead, and Magickae (mortal magick users that had no ties to the Fae) each held a seat in the Council Halls. There were, of course, many other types of Otherkyn, but they didn’t like to get involved with this Realm (Angels and Demons alike could be a bit snobby in that way) and lost spirits/ghosts usually were counted among the Undead. Then there were the groups that weren’t as well known by the human mortal populace, and often got counted as Fae (like Drem’s Phoenix-kyn) or just Shifter-kyn that, while not human, could take human form (most types of legendary/mythical beasts like Cerberus).

Frosne was unsure as to what the Council could want from her. To her knowledge, she hadn’t committed any crimes, human or Otherkyn as of late. She wasn’t drawing unwanted attention to herself by acting as the stereotypical Dragon that could still be found in stupid short lives’ (aka humans) stories. The only thing that made any sense to her was they were going to lecture her about something, or bluster about her needing to respect them, or something along those lines. She made no attempt to hide the fact that none of them frightened her, not even the Dragon Elder, who was really only her “elder” by two or three hundred years. She held a sliver of respect for them, since they had to fight, some literally in death matches, to gain their seats in the Council, and Fros tried to show respect for anything that counted as a living (or Undead) being. But that was really it.

Now that she was thinking about it, they had been making noise about her divulging who her father was, especially Hramothd, the Dragon Elder. Hram always got this disapproving look on his face when she gave the now habitual shake of her head and self-depreciating half smile when questioned about her familial lines. But really, you can’t force something out of a being that they didn’t know about. It’s like eating an orange and expecting it to taste like fish. Preposterous.

Frosne bared her teeth in a feral looking version of a smile at the Council Hall entrance guards. She didn’t know where they found these assholes. They seemed to like harassing the people that came and went here, but had learned long ago that she wasn’t afraid to use her Ice to remove certain bits and pieces if they pushed her buttons. Employees of the Elder Council or no, she wasn’t afraid to put her tail spike through the morons. There was a new one today, it seemed. He was the more…”mellow” was really the only word she could think of to describe the male, as opposed to his now twitchy companion (a female who had seen exactly what Fros could do with her Ice, given incentive). Cool, calm, dark blue eyes peered at her curiously from beneath a plain mask that reminded her of the Phantom of The Opera, in a way. It was the only personal effect she could find in his all black uniform ensemble that the Council Guards wore. The male just tipped his head at Fros respectfully, so she returned the gesture and moved on, but really hoped that the rotation will have changed by the time she got done with the Council.

He was new. She didn’t like it. “New”, for a Draci, could be dangerous. New could be a threat that has yet to show itself as such. It wasn’t personal, just paranoid instinct for Frosne.

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The Council didn’t really want anything new from Fros.

Who is your father? Unknown.

Who and/or what was your mother? Especially unknown.

Same old questions, same answers.

It got rather tiring after a while, really. On the up side, it did make the neutral expression that much easier to hold.

Well, until the new guard entered the chamber, anyway.

Frosne didn’t understand. What was he doing here? Why would the Elderly call him in to what was supposed to be a “private” audience?

New is just not good at all, sometimes.

Sometimes, “new” is just a kick in the crotch, for shits and giggles.
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