Open | Action: What is a sally if not another word for adventure? (literally)

[hildago]

While there had been no flower-borne sickness for Don Quixote, nor another kind of sickness (which really, might have been the death of the old man, what with his missing teeth and chinked ear). So, today, the weather only finds the Knight Errant on the back of his fair, sway-backed steed, Rocinante, the hooves clip-clopping along the streets, in search of adventure.

That there can be no true monsters, or dragons, doesn't occur to him. After all, what is a Knight without adventure? (Besides a crazy old man?)

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[skysung]

But there are, in fact, true dragons!

...just not of the usual size for monster-fighting. Kitten is only forty five inches long, and a third of that is her tail. She's small and blue and very recently recovered from her very first time being sick.

Kitten whirls at the sound of hoofbeats, because she grew up with a horse as a partner in crime and a pony as a frequent babysitter. She's always considered the equine members of the household just as much a part of her family as her human adoptive parents are. She hasn't met any here, so seeing a man mounted comes as a surprise. Kitten keeps her distance but whistles a greeting to both man and horse.

[hildago]

Rocinante turns first, because, to be frank, Quixote cannot hear very well after being pummeled by stones more than once.

But when the horse stops, he peers around and his gaze lands on the ...
what is it? A lizard?

"What a grand and monstrous lizard," he exclaims. "I would imagine these are brought in from Africa, clearly."

[skysung]

Kitten snorts in exasperation. She'll take that over people pointing and screaming 'crocodile!' as they would tend to in Carthak, but she is not a lizard. ...Always fond of admiration, she will take 'grand' as the compliment it is, of course, preening just a little before she shakes her head emphatically.

No. No, she is not brought in from Africa. She has never even heard of Africa. And a lizard would not have wings. Hers may be rudimentary still, far too small for flight, but there they are upon her back, shifting to call his attention to them. And here is a very small flame flickering out from between her teeth for further demonstration. Clearly, Kitten is a dragon.

[hildago]

"Why, you are a fire-breathing beast!" Don Quixote exclaims as Rocinante takes a couple of stumbling steps back to avoid a singeing. "A very small fire-breathing beast."

Of course, this is the man who thrashed the Moor's puppets into small bits so size, clearly, matters little to Don Quxiote! He draws his sword from his makeshift scabbard and holds it aloft. "I shall vanquish you, beast! And save the city! It is what a Knight Errant is meant to do!"

And so, with intention stated, he charges!

... Which means that Rocinante takes a few staggering steps forward again.

[skysung]

If Kitten were human, she would be dragging her hands down her face in frustration right now. Since she is not, of course, that gesture is an impossible one. She won't hurt Rocinante, though, however annoyed she might be with Don Quixote. Alright, she probably wouldn't hurt him either, especially given how ineffective his attempts at vanquishing seem thus far.

She ducks to the side and scolds him roundly, but there's enough humor in her at the attempted charge that Kitten will refrain from going red and snorting smoke in his direction.

Kitten really ought to come up with a way to convince the man that she means no harm. She should be friendly rather than scolding. But then, no one said young children had the best judgement, even when the child is a very intelligent dragon kit.

[hildago]

"You will not escape me, beast! The women of this village will be kept safe! I vow my life on it!"

Don Quixote's horse is not helping him, however, dancing/stumbling in counter to the little dragon.

If only Sancho were here to speak a sort of reason into the situation. The Knight points his rusty blade at the beast, exclaiming, "you shall meet the depths of hell, beast!"

(He is prone to hyperbole, which is probably not surprising.)

[skysung]

Her blue scales do redden at that. A lizard or an animal, she can tolerate being called. She hates being treated as a monster, though. She's never heard of hell, but Kitten has an imagination. She can guess at what he means.

She doesn't think she's in any real danger, so despite her anger, Kitten keeps control. The air around her doesn't heat. She isn't scorching Don Quixote out of his saddle. Instead, she just huffs smoke at him from her now scarlet snout, croaking and whistling something of a tirade to vent her obvious displeasure.

...Yes, she's very good at placating strangers with swords. It's a natural talent. Kitten has never cared much for holding her tongue. Him understanding her words might have helped avoid this situation in the first place, but right now it may be a good thing he doesn't.

[hildago]

Even if this dragon were to speak Spanish, there would be the chance that Don Quixote would not understand her. After all, he is not the most diligent of listeners.

Let us not even contemplate the idea that it would be a talking animal.

"You dare not try to intimidate me!" he says of the smoke. It finally occurs to him to dismount and he does, only very nearly falling but not falling, to once again brandish his sword. "It is the Knight's duty protect and to fight danger!"

[skysung]

This time her snort is less angry and more... nonplussed, scoffing both at the clumsy dismount and at the word 'dare'. Kitten once scolded the god of war and justice because she felt he was being unfair to her adoptive mother. Suffice to say that she would dare speak her mind to and attempt intimidation on anyone she so chose.

To protect who, from what danger? Kitten poses no danger to anyone except perhaps Don Quixote right now. She was minding her own business, thank you. Though she probably shouldn't bait him, her comments on the fact that at least he's finally had the sense not to attack anyone so low to the ground from atop the back of a horse have a goading tone to them.

Not that he seems to need the encouragement.

[hildago]

"Are you, perhaps, magic?" Quixote asks, nonplussed himself for the moment. He does tend to get confused, after all.

"The question then becomes, of course, if you are made of good magic or bad magic. Both can be powerful, of course. But it would be my preference for you to be of good magic. But you are a dragon, which means you must be made of bad magic."

[skysung]

She nods emphatic agreement at the question about magic, chirping encouragement at the sudden cease of attack. For dragons, magic is a sense every bit as real as sight or smell. She is magic, and has been managing very basic spells since her first year of life.

The noises Kitten makes after Quixote moves on to assuming that dragons are inherently bad, however, can only be described as rude. It doesn't take understanding of words to figure out that she takes great offense at that.

[hildago]

Alas, Don Quixote isn't one for listening to men, let alone the sounds of a dragon. He goes on as if it is a monologue and not a dialogue.

"There are dragons discussed in the great books of Romance," he muses. "Often vaquished by the great knights. If I were to wish to be written about, I need to vanquish a dragon."

Clearly.

[skysung]

Kitten's running very low on patience, and her smoky snort now is derisive. There are all kinds of ways to get into books. There are so many flaws in this logic that she doesn't even know where to start.

The thing is, she still doesn't actually want to hurt him. (Well, maybe a little. She's never had a very good rein on her temper, not with as young as she is.) Mama and Papa would be so upset with her if she ever harmed someone in anything but absolutely necessary self defense. Kitten would be disappointed in herself too, after the fact, but that wouldn't put anyone back together.

She makes a sound that bears the most resemblance to a human taunting raspberry. Apparently she's giving up all attempts at maturity over on her end of things.

[hildago]

Having decided that the best way to be remembered as a Knight Errant is to render a dragon into the past tense, Don Quixote goes to pull his sword from the scabbard.

Which is all well and good except that his scabbard, hobbled together from various bits and bobs, doesn't want to let go (perhaps it knows something Quixote doesn't).

He yanks and yanks, to no avail.