She groaned.

The discomfort that radiated through her body had persisted throughout much of the evening, hardly a difference than that of the day before. Being confined to best rest was an ironic sort of hell to have to endure, the beautiful – and seldom expected – pleasure that came from resting on a warm cot, eroded by the pain that coursed through her body at all hours in the night. Any inclination of comfort erased by a quick but rough moment of pain as she awoke in a sweat and panic.

It had been like this since she had undergone the surgery. Quite what it was or what it was for, she still did not know. A ‘requirement’ for her residence here within, that was what it was sold to her as. A blind deal, but even a blind deal that offered her a chance to sleep in something that were neither a cage nor a dank alley was a better hand than what she was typically dealt. Roana just wished that she had had a chance to get even somewhat acclimated before awakening to the sight of the surgery scar just beneath her breast and the gnawing pain that came with it.

Was it worth it? Too soon to say admittedly. She wasn’t thrilled by it, but pain was hardly something that she weren’t used to by now. The best thing that could have been said was that it was intermittent, giving her a chance to rest even if just for a few minutes time. Even she had to admit; the feeling of her head upon a feathered pillow was a lovely sensation, one that almost made the pain she felt every so often worth it.

But the time for her to rest had come and gone, the young Demi-Human awakening not to that of a shock of pain radiating through her, but rather to a forceful hand gripping at her forearm, a rough jerk all but propelling her out from her cot, almost certainly to have fallen upon the loose carpets that concealed hard stone floors had it not been for the grip of the guard that managed to keep her semi-upright. “What the hell!?” She roared out, her free arm winding up and swinging with reckless abandonment, knuckles meeting against the iron helmet adorned the guard’s head, it ricocheting slightly as her hand shot back, a jolt running through her arm following shortly thereafter by pain as the adrenaline calmed.

Then came a kick, no direction given but simply hoping to strike at the guard, but that came to no avail. Another attempt, and barely any better luck, managing to perhaps graze against the iron legguards worn at present. This process continued on for a short while, maybe no more than some twenty or thirty paces before the guard opted for a rougher approach, the twisting of Roana’s arm behind her back, the tearing sensation that radiated through her limb, compounded by the pain of her still-recovering body. “Let go of me!” She kicked and screamed, but to no avail, being forcibly dragged against her will, even as she sought to dig her heels into the ground, doing little more than causing the carpet to ride up into an unorganized mess, Roana being pulled away each time just before tripping over it, only to repeat the process again and again.

Her rebellion continued until she found herself being thrown forward, landing on the ground as a hot sense of pain echoed throughout her body, nearly causing her to tear up. The surgery was still fresh, her actions having landed her a rough landing, the very last kind of thing that someone in her state could have wanted. Slowly, she got up to her knees, her eyes reddened, cheeks starting to appear stained by the forming of tears around her eyes, her breathing almost like that of a wheeze, trying to control her body and calm down the pain that surged throughout.

So consuming had it been that she almost did not notice nor hear the woman who was before her.  When she did finally realize it, her eyes looked up, seeing the woman adorned the throne. Regal in appearance, beautiful too, Roana was not sure what to think of her, as much inclined to think a possible threat as anything else. Until she heard her name utterly by the woman, not with the visceral venom that would have accompanied a slaver, but rather that of sincerity, the same kind of tone that she heard people talking to those who had money.  It made little sense to why she was being addressed with such high regard, almost making her doubt the woman’s intent.

She arose from one knee to being upright, her arms wrapping around her chest as a shiver ran across her skin; confusion, pain, and fear all seeming to intertwine at once. She stepped forward, albeit gingerly, still unsure what to think, far from confident in this woman’s presence. “Who… Dragon Order...?” Her ignorance was on full display, the truth to her situation open; a young woman who made an agreement and joined not knowing the most basic information contained within her accord. “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” She hissed, “Participate in what?”

Her blood boiled, her frustration growing, more in her clear confusion than anything else. With every word this woman spoke in her fancy tongue, the more it pissed Roana off, feeling all the more out of the loop than she did only seconds before. Finally, she heard something that set her off, an innocuous comment under most circumstances but one that left her fuming? “Bestowed upon thee? What!? What you mean this?” In a rage she yelled out, pulling at the ragged gown that she had been adorned in, her flesh exposed, the fresh surgery scar apparent, blood beginning to drip down her lower chest as some of the stiches found themselves torn open. “The fuck is this!? What the fuck did you do to me!?”

Anger fueled throughout her, the wish to lash out at this woman, who simply stood there indifferent to the suffering evident on Roana’s face. Did she care? The impression surely did not seem to be the case, but Roana knew of indifference. She knew of those that saw little value in life. She knew that all too well.

And this woman did not have that look. Her eyes did not see Roana as less than life. They betrayed her voice. But only to a degree.

Pain brought the young Demi-Human to her knees as her hand cupped the flesh just below her breast, even the faintest touch of flesh upon inflamed flesh causing her to wince at the stinging sensation. A wet feeling betrayed that pain, Roana needing only look down to see the crimson beginning to seep through the clutches of her fingers. Her head looked up, eyes now that of disappointment; disappointment in her.

A sense of shame, a sense of panic washed over Roana.

Her mouth opened, but words failed to escape, her body paralyzed for a moment as she heard the woman echo her threat with the casualness of a tyrant. It was something else, far worse than anything she may have heard from the slavers and cruel peoples whom she had encountered in the past. Often their words were nothing more than attempts to scare others into submission. Roana could tell that this woman was different.

She would very much see the Demi-Human discarded if she were to lash out again.

Holding her tongue, she swallowed, pain still coursing through her body making even just the focusing on the woman standing over her that much of a challenge. “Lacrima? I don’t understand…”

Keeping her hand close to her chest, she closed her eyes as she attempted to stand, her breathing heavy, the pain still there, but almost seeming to be something that she could manage. Her head tilted upwards slightly, her eyes focused in on the amber pupils of the taller, more intimidating woman, their expression static throughout. She kept her hand in place, still pressed against her chest before finally pulling it away, congealed blood acting like a natural glue, the pain as her and pulled away, with it ripping from the blood causing her to shut her eyes.

Opening them again, she looked at her hand, her palm splattered with crimson tones, an uneven coating lined all throughout from the tips of her fingers to near her wrist. It was far from pleasant, but from how the woman described her status, it was a far better situation than she could have been. Roana kept her eyes trained on her hand, her mind struggling to remember something, anything really. What happened to her before? Had she been at death’s door? It would hardly have been the first time, but, there was just something different, something that she doubt she would have been able to quite figure out.

Finally, she returned her focus to the woman with a defeated look on her face. Her frustration aside, there was nothing that she could do. It was laughable to think that in her state that she could have done anything. Even before it would have been foolhardy. Her attempt at stopping the guard from escorting her had proven to be a failed endeavor; there was no reason to think doing anything to this woman would result in anything other than her demise.

Civility – as much as she loathed the idea – was her best course of action. No. It was her only course of action.

“… Sorry…” She whimpered, pain still in her voice, though also mixed with shame. A child accosted, scolded by a maternal figure even. How unbecoming of her. “Thank you… I…” She closed her eyes again as she winced. It seemed that the bleeding had begun to stop, but the pain from the surgery still spread inside her. Another shiver caused her to tense her shoulder blades as she pulled the gown close, an attempt by her to entertaining decorum and civility. “Thank you… for saving me…”

“Roana…” A lone tear began to stream down her eye, “That’s my name…” She swallowed again, another tear forming opposite the first, “What exactly, what happened to me?”

It proved difficult for Roana to truly wrap her head what the imposing woman was saying. She had died, nearly. They had saved her, for some reason. But to do so, it involved replacing her heart with that of a dragon? The logic made no sense. How could that have even been possible? More that, the idea of whatever they did being from a dragon?

Dragons didn’t exist. Right?

It seemed like an obvious answer that surprisingly was difficult to truly believe, made no easier by the way the woman before her carried herself. Such authority, such certainty, could it have been due to madness that such fervent belief lay in? Her time had certainly left Roana with enough doubt to even conceive that that were possible. How else other than madness could one explain the brutality and cruel nature of people that existed within the deserts of Desierto?

But this woman did not seem mad. Cold, that was without question. But she seemed within her own mind, and no matter how her mind may have worked, Roana knew better than to try to incite confrontation from her. Especially in the state that she was in currently. Pain still echoed throughout it, but it was manageable. She could endure, though not much beyond that.

It was enough of a reminder to keep her mouth shut; that the circumstances of how she had ended up here, not just within this room, but wherever this place in its entirety was, could have just as easily shifted elsewhere. She may have escaped death but what safety that afforded was at best, fleeting.

Rather than say anything, she simply listened. She did her best to withhold judgment, not think harshly, even more to not lash out unjustly at the woman. Too, she wanted to just understand. Even as the woman explained it, the idea of her survival having come from a Dragon, it was tough to believe. Perhaps a case of simply not having seen it to be true, nor could break that of what she had heard of Dragons, they simply were just creatures of fantasy, not reality.

Then came something that Roana was not expecting. A command issued by the other woman, one to a figure within the room that Roana had not much paid attention towards. But then it became the fixation of hers entirely as his arms moved, the faint glow beneath her body as she felt something within her. Not pain, no suffering, not even the slightest recognition that there was anything wrong with her. The pain that had come through intermittently ceased seemingly, so much to the shock of the Demi-Human that she could not help but look to see for herself. Pulling open the gown once again, she peered down, the recent scar just beneath the breast was there still, albeit looking in an entirely different state. Largely healed, any indication of it having been an open wound just a moment ago having been cleansed away.

"No way..."

She was a new person. Of sorts.

Her eyes couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She couldn’t believe what she was feeling. It was something so beyond anything that she could wrap her head around that it had become too much. She wanted to be polite, to be silent, but it was impossible not to ask after what she just witnessed, her mind as much struggling to understand what the cloaked figure had done as anything described to her.

“I don’t understand,” her words were scattered, her focus not entirely locked in to a singular topic, rather bouncing off one thought to another. “You keep saying Dragons. Dragon Order… Dragon Heart… But Dragons aren’t real?” Still, the doubt lingered within her mind, simply being unable to do anything other than beg to wonder, was she right? Was this woman right? “Aren’t they?”

“I… I always thought that they were just… just some kind of a story…”