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Tentacle Trappings

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Saphira Fafnar

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Xigfeldo paused at the entrance to the tunnel, although the silver-black dragon, embodying the best of both types of dragon, in his opinion, was not hesitating because he was worried about delving into the dark bowels of the earth. He had spent more than enough time in his own tunnel system to worry about things like that, even though he was not traditionally of a type of dragon that would burrow into the ground like some other colours and kinds. He liked the crystals that he could carve into the rock faces with his magic, his silver heritage, while the brute force and cunning wiles of his black heritage lent him the power to wield it all with greater energy than other dragons could have imagined.

The day glittered in gloom, sunshine sparkling through a break in the storm clouds, but he was more than about to leave that life behind in light of something darker and more sordid, seeking out the first stage on...well... That was an explanation that he didn't need to give himself. Shifting his weight, claws raking through the light grit and stones coating the scree before the cavern, he exhaled softly, the lick of his breath cooling the back of his throat. But that was not the time to exhale and use his breath ability, what one part of his dual-dragon heritage afforded him, his affinity with water lending him even more ability and nuances with which to shape and tease out the world around him. Truly, Xigfeldo could not have wished for more in that regard. It was an honour to hold both black and silver genes and demonstrate the best of both kinds of dragons.

He entered the cave with a calm, steady stride, murmuring softly under his breath, a gentle hum that lent himself a companionable lilt on his solitary journey. It was not a journey that he anticipated being solitary and lonesome for too long, however, even though he wondered as he passed a shard of kyanite, jutting up naturally in rough and ragged beauty from the floor, how Vellura the phoenix was doing in his absence. She would still be on her clutch of eggs back home, although it was only one of many that she had laid while residing softly in the protection of his territory. He hoped she was warm and comfortable, although he had left enough magically infused heating rocks to keep her and the eggs toasty through his absence, along with an ample supply of food carefully gathered.

He smirked. That had been fun to have the other creatures in his territory assist with that, the gathering of such longer-lasting sustenance that Vellura would not have to venture beyond the cavern if the need did not so take her. She could stay right where she was and not have to worry about his thing until he visited her during the course of his tour, perhaps even taking some time out to impregnate the sweet phoenix all over again. He was so looking forward to seeing just how their offspring too grew up, some of them more phoenix than dragon, as she was due the magic flowing through her veins, though all had his draconian qualities in a way that no one would deny.

But he was going to bring back a little flowery gift for her that the gorgeous phoenix with her long, long tails would not be able to resist. And, so, he had to go on.

It was a quest that was self-given, even though those winning the draconic breeding ceremony, The Ceremony of Dragons itself, were entrusted the task of spreading their seed and taking the seed of others too, if they were dual-sexed, throughout the land. They had so much ground to cover and he delighted in every last bit of it, even enjoying the mere fact that he had been named and crowned a dragon princess rather than a prince, taking pride in being a hermaphrodite, both parts of his body and sexuality coming together in perfect unison.

No, he would never worry about that, though hermaphrodite dragons were not quite as common throughout the lands as many liked to think. Sometimes they were simply the more promiscuous ones that pushed things further than others, therefore standing out in the spotlight more and more. And Xigfeldo more than anyone else knew that standing out from the crowd was just where he wanted to be in the grand scope and scheme of the dragon kingdom.

Deeper and deeper, he traipsed, a sinuous sway in his gait guiding him on. There was no natural light in there but he was easily able to conjure up a ball of water from the moisture dripping down the walls, undoubtedly feeding something swallowed up in the mountain itself. There was always something at the foot of a mountain, even if a dragon did not know it, after all. The ball of light could be fed with a little more magic, used as a vessel, flowing and swirling as if it produced its own natural light, even though it could not have done that without his aid. That was the beauty and the benefit, undoubtedly, to his magic, bringing illumination to places where it should never have naturally been.

Was that something underfoot? Floating the little ball closer, a stray droplet splattering off, he eyed it, tipping his sleek muzzle to the side. Moss... That had to mean that he was getting closer. But the quest that he sought out deep in the belly of the mountain would lead to something on the other side, a sweetness of green and warmth and light that bragged the very nature of fertility.

But he had to find his way through first.

It would come, that much he was sure of, and not even Xigfeldo was dragon enough to stop a grin from spreading his jaws wide, showing off his teeth to the darkness of the tunnel, sloping down and down and down. It was coming, the moisture thickening, the sense that something alive was down there growing with every passing second, almost a sense of humidity cloying the air, even though it was quite comfortably cool in there with his water affinity. Vines layered the floor, one at a time coming to light, the appearance of them heralding something more, quickening his step.

He had to get there. Not only to bring that present back to Vellura, the sweet phoenix in his care, but because he wanted to experience all too that was there for him, everything he could take and claim for his own. The world itself, after all, was up for grabs, if only a dragon was brave enough to snatch it up for their own, snarling and working, grinding, humping...

Oh, wait... He laughed at himself, mirth echoing gleefully off the walls, reverberating back to him. That was something else entirely, wasn't it? Funny how that was the area that his mind always so liked to wander to. Or maybe not really there either. Already, his loins tingled in anticipation of finally finding those that he sought out, imagining the luscious of their land, the lair that he had thought he'd be able to reach in a shorter amount of time on foot than in the air. Alas, it had turned out that they were hidden away more securely and teasingly than he had thought, leading him on a wild goose chase while he chipped away at his first task of being the latest dragon princess.

That was, ever so slightly, his failing, however, his mind wandering as a vine tangled around his foot. Before he knew it, he was tumbling, wings snapping out too late to catch his weight, not a single breath of air present in the darkness of the tunnel to lift him up, to shape to his will. As his nose shot towards the stone, vine and moss-laden floor, it was only his magic that saved him from an untimely smack, though it would not have hurt him in the long-term, at the very least.

His light failed, dropping into the darkness, shattering into nothing, splashing into the ether. It could not be reshaped without due care and time, though he could have if he'd had both the time and inclination to do so. Xigfeldo would have cursed but that was not how he played things, shifting his weight and using his magic to levitate a mere inch from the floor, shifted back onto his haunches, tail stretched out, striving to see without looking just where the walls were. Although his body could heal any scratch that he did get from bumping into them, he didn't really want to take that risk even being tougher as a dragon than any other creatures that happened to be about.

But he could not have anticipated the vine that snaked around his forepaw and yanked him forward in such a way that even his magic could not save him in time. He flew through the air, the moment of weightlessness not outside just how a freefall felt, a daring endeavour at the height of danger itself, though, this time, it was not under his own volition, which should have been more fear-antagonising than it was. There was still time to catch himself but the vine, a living, wriggling entity in itself, didn't seem to have any ill-intent, tossing the dragon into a pit - at least, he assumed it was a pit as his eyes took their time adjusting - that was filled with a like, wriggling, membrane of similar vines. Xigfeldo's eyes widened, tongue flickering out to taste the air but, curiously, he could hardly feel a single jot or note of apprehension as he swung his head around, another vine slipping around his neck as if it was embodying the hug of a lover's tail.

It could have been terrifying, could have been a lot worse than it was, but for a dragon so coolly assured of his own intent in the world, it just wasn't an option to feel fear in such an instance. It would take something dramatically escalated to actually send terror into his heart and that was hardly something that the dragon was going to seek out without due cause. Maybe another time he would tease out that notion of fear in eroticism, perhaps, but that was not for him to take, trying to find his footing even as the floor of moving, shifting vines twisted softly and sinuously beneath him. As they teased up against his scales, he could not help but feel that it was not an unpleasant sensation in the slightest. In fact... He groaned softly, spreading his legs, letting the vines slip up into his most sacredly and amusingly violated of spaces. It was kind of nice too. Rather nice, truly.

He did not need to call on his magic to bring the cavern that he had been, less than gently, deposited into, greater powers than he at work. Slowly but surely, a steady glow of pink brought the room into highlighted definition, all with a rosy, pink hue that fluttered forth like the petals of the first blooms of spring. All was revealed, bit by bit, a writhing mass of tentacle-like vines that had a life and mind of their own forming the floor, not an inch of rock or ground of any kind in sight. He blinked, jaws parting in wonder, but still could not feel one little bit of concern over his strange sort of predicament, one that he was slowly beginning to understand as the vines twisted up softly between his legs.

He was not a submissive type but he enjoyed the look of the flower before him, the massive bloom like a rose but still something more exotic than that still, spreading its petals as if they were trying to encourage in a giant insect of a sort. He wouldn't have very much have liked to see that in his lifetime, however, and was more than glad to instead enjoy the warming glow rising from the very centre of the plant where it emitted its light, the golden tease twisting and turning as if even that was made of vines. The truth of that part of the flower would only come to light after it had taken what it needed from him to open the door, to unlock his need.

One step - though not with the dragon moving in the slightest. The tentacles crawled over his scales, although they were warm to the touch and not at all slimy, for which he was grateful. Some sensations just didn't mesh up well with him and he panted softly, unconsciously lifting his tail, his body wanting to see what would happen, what he could glean, even as his mind raced to catch up with it.

What could it mean? And did it even have to mean anything as the tentacles swept over him, lifting him up, the ceiling of the cavern so high above that he could very well have indeed taken flight if he'd wanted to. Yet he wanted to be down there amidst the drama of the vines, the sensuality that could be his, if only he was bold enough to relax down into it, to call it forth into the realm of pleasure unlike anything else. Even a dragon like him could not have said that he'd spent time with a plant and, in that moment and those that came after it, it seemed to be both male and female, which was too inherently appealing to him to miss out on.

"Oh..." He groaned, head rolling back as a vine slipped down his neck, pulsing and massaging his throat as if, even then, it was trying to get him to swallow. "Oh, that's nice..."

It was a tease and a massage both at the same time, caressing his scales, rubbing and squirming, lusting deeper as they quested under his tail. Although his thighs were spread, the plant had not yet investigated higher, but it was time for things to ramp up, his hips wriggling enticingly - well, as enticingly as he thought he could possibly make them for a plant. He wouldn't have been at all in the know on what a plant liked or enjoyed but Xigfeldo knew and understood his enjoyment better than anyone else, his cloaca flushed with heat, the slit that contained both his male and female genitalia, along with his anal passage, parting lightly as if in anticipation of the only outcome of the event.

Yes... He wanted it, rolling and twisting within the vines to the point that he no longer knew or cared which way was up and which way was down. His head turned upside down and he laughed carelessly, a tentacle-tip teasing at his cloaca, imagining, perhaps, that he would be tight and closed against them. That was very much not the case as his blood pumped into the slit of his cloaca, fleshing it out, spreading lightly as it allowed his cock to push out. The lightly vulnerable scales had no chance as his scales tingled, tremors pulsing through him, breath catching, needing it as his shaft demanded such crudely desirable attention. It was smooth, so very smooth that even its natural, light lubrication would allow it to glide seamlessly without even a hint of friction, something that his partners loved and adored. He only wondered, of course, just how the plant would enjoy it, excitement stirring, dare he say even blossoming, in his chest, the narrow, shapely barrel of it cutting through with masculine delight.

"Come here now," he murmured huskily, his legs wound up in tentacle-vines, although he did not feel as if he was restricted at all, a willing participant in everything that was happening. "Take a taste... I don't bite. Much."

All a tease and perhaps not one that the plant could understand, even if pushing boundaries and that lilt of danger, the tremor in eroticism, was what he lived for above all else. The vines seemed to like what he had to offer though, smaller, defter tentacles teasing up to his cloaca and around the base of his cock. They appeared to be more dextrous than the ones that wrapped around his limbs and supported him, slender and fine, able to bring the rise of a shiver to his silver scales. The fur of his crest, poised between his horns and, lightly, down the back of his neck too, was not devoid of attention, many smaller tentacles running through it over and over again, pulling it lightly out from his scales as the sensitive nerve-endings were tantalisingly stimulated.

But it was the ones teasing into his sex, finding out just what was in there, the slit that could have contained just a shaft or an anal passage, but what he had was both sexes combined into one, providing the plant with a multitude of opportunities for pleasure. Once it had worked that out, there was no stopping it, the vines questing inside respectively, taking stock of each and every little quiver in his body, how his muscles tensed as they slipped inside. One sought out his cunny as if following the scent of him and Xigfeldo chuckled throatily, letting his head tip back if only to watch what he could as they penetrated him, following the wetness drooling from his cloaca like a trail that could not help but be followed.

There was more too, of course: he had not been so careless as to forget to release his own oily essence, what was produced within his cloaca and smelled thickly and sweetly, overpowering to the nth degree. No creature, not even a plant with some measure of sentience, could possibly ignore or resist one who was simply born to attract (especially those producing omni-attracting essences of various viscosities), the plant rushing to seal its first vine deeply up into his cunny, trembling as his heated passage closed tightly around it.

There was nothing quite like being penetrated but the second tentacle, tapered to a point like the rest, to slip up into his tail hole was more delectable still, the sort of pleasure that almost came laced with so many lesser-used nerve-endings that he could not help but moan out his lust. It drove in with its own natural lubrication, oozing from the 'skin' of the tentacle rather than the tip, and he grunted in surprise as it teased deeper than he expected it to, panting as his flanks heaved. It was not a bad feeling in the slightest, of course, just one that caught him a shade off-guard but that iota of surprise too was a delectable feeling, one that he was glad of even in that moment.

But it was the scent flooding the air around him, even overpowering that of his essence as he squeezed down on the tentacles, encouraging his body to produce more and more, to compete with it, that made sense at long last. It was not that he'd been ignoring it but he'd thought it was his own at first, even though they were quite different when he really focused in on it, his aroma drawing in the passion and lust of so many others over the course of time. Yet the plant had a sweet scent of its own to deliver, mingling and mixing with his in the air, winding around him and drawing him down into devout debauchery, hips working and grinding. The scent clung to the back of his throat and down upon his tongue as if it was filling his mouth too, Xigfeldo letting out a raw and ready hiss, his mission and the one that he had been searching out filling his mind once more. It was not hard to believe in the slightest that the thought had slipped from his mind, but he drunk in their scent greedily, short, sharp inhalations filtering it into his lungs. The scent glands on his muzzle too helped him sift through the scent, to work it out, even though his grin told the tale of understanding despite the natural need to confirm.

Ah, of course...

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That scent could only possibly come from one dragoness, he was sure, and he arched back, letting the tentacles plunge into him all the more fervently, intent on milking him of orgasm after orgasm. But he wanted all of that more and more, the plant stretching him out to what his limit was, though that was something that his body could take far more of than another creature that was not of a dragon. No, his body would conform smoothly to the shape of any member, his magic only needing to kick in if he wanted his feminine passage and tail hole to take more than was even naturally possible for one of his kind. And even that was a colossal amount! The tentacles though would push him that far as blood pumped through his body, coursing and driving with vitality and life, the passion of it all having him grinding back wantonly, jaws hanging more loosely even as he was ploughed. But he didn't have to think while his body was so very keen to do the work for him.

He could tighten himself up to fit a partner or stretch as it pleased them, but it was the stretching that he needed right there and then as the plant squirmed into him, wriggling deeper, lusting for him, another vine slithering into him with a thick stretch and strain. It was delectable to feel just how his velveteen walls stretched around it, a moan rising from his lips, his muscles still trying to clench down through the strain, beautifully so. Xigfeldo groaned, licking his lips the best he could, excess saliva lingering in his mouth, slickening the way for the driving tentacle, which he eagerly accepted with a lustful slurp. His cunny and cloaca alike tightened around it as he panted softly, a vine tickling his lips, begging entry. It was a far cry from a dragon cock or, truly, the dick of any other species that he had enjoyed the company of too over the years as an adult, but it was more than he could have ever have hoped for in that moment alone.

Every hole, every opening... It was all there for him to take, the passion of the plant breeding him coming to a head in the pounding, driving thrusts of the tentacles. They knew just how to breed him too, plunging deep into his warmth and his tail hole alike, anal ring trying to close down even within his cloaca. There was no keeping them out, alas, and neither did he want to force them away, grunting around the one slipping into his mouth as it did its very best to seal away his cries, jaws hanging open to take the most in possible. He groaned encouragingly, the dragon's tail lashing and twisting into the body of the vines, the flower from which they all originated from blocking out his vision, a soft, rising mass of pink and gold, exotic even as it quivered there so very sweetly.

The tentacle in his mouth was a stranger sort though as it plunged and quested for more, seeming to want something of him. The tip was nowhere near as tapered as the other ones and he wrapped his tongue curiously around it, suckling it into his mouth as it released such a sweet flavour into his mouth and even straight down his throat too that he wanted to suckle on it even more. It wouldn't let him stop, vision hazing over, his line of sight taken up by a writhing mass of pink-tinted tentacles, the glow hardly fading, though the light of it did not grow any stronger.

And neither did he want to stop, twisting and grinding, using his wings for some measure of forcing himself back onto the tentacles, the ones around the base of his cock hardly touching, not even tickling. He wanted more! They'd have to deliver it too if they didn't want an angry dragon on their vines and the plant seemed to know it too - or, at least, Xigfeldo liked to think of it in that way, that he could have that control over the plant too. He was a dominant soul at heart rather than a submissive one and, damn it, he wanted everything the kinky little plant had to offer and so very much more too.

He could not cry out noticeably though with the tentacle-shaft ploughing his muzzle, releasing more and more sweetness down his throat, though he could not tell whether it was an orgasm or not. Xigfeldo moaned out what he could though, the vines under his tail speeding up, grinding into him, ploughing deeper and harder, the multiple lengths in his cunny forcing him wider and wider as they thickened up noticeably. The one in his backdoor entrance too was due a partner as first one and then another crammed their way in anxiously along with the first, intent only on the lust of a plant that existed to drink down his seed, to bring passion from his essence.

And yet...something more too could be born from him, if only he was brave enough (and he was) to take the tentacle plant's seed. The first shot caught him completely by surprise, not even coming with a single hint of warning, no tremble and no pulse in the sensuous length of the tentacle. Yet it was creamy even with a passionate flair of fruit and delectable...something. He could not have described the taste even if someone had tried to make him find the words, drinking it all down with heady gulps, throat working noisily to make sure that not a single drop went to waste. It was, at the very least, like biting into passion fruit, taking that fruit deep and sinking his teeth into it, a mango's juice running between his teeth, sticky and moreish at the same time.

All of it. He wanted it all, every last single drop, swallowing and swallowing harder and harder as the stream refused to taper off. It was only with the deluge from that tentacle-shaft that the ones ploughing his pussy and tail hole also let loose, the flood splashing hotly into him, seeming warmer than they actually were considering how cool his body normally ran. That was just the way Xigfeldo was but that most certainly wasn't going to stop him from clenching and squeezing down delightfully around those hot lengths, the thrusting drive sending him into orgasmic peals and spirals of pleasure, rising up and up and up.

Climax was only the start of it as his cock suddenly was engulfed, though it took him a few, long seconds to realise just what was happening there. Hot, long spurts flooded both of his passages, cloaca strained around him, though there was another tentacle parting around his cock, sucking it deep into what he could only possibly say felt entirely like a mouth suckling on his shaft, although it was softer and more pliable than any muzzle that he had ever had the pleasure to adore. Still, it didn't stop him from thrusting and rocking, torn between pushing his hips back onto those tentacles and ramming into the new one, the one that pulsed and twitched around his cock just like a throat, egging him on to thrust deeper and harder.

The tentacles knew, they had to have known, just what he was thinking, slamming and grinding, allowing him to brace against them as they formed a more stable platform under his feet. His claws dug into them but all Xigfeldo knew was the drive of pleasure, cock wanting to climax, his internally held testis churning and rumbling, his guts twisting. It was more than he could bear and a dragon like him could cum more than once - so why bother holding back such passion when it was right there for the taking?

His roar was muffled but he still unleashed his load, both male and female parts of him climaxing together, cock twitching and spurting, prehensile and yet not quite able to thrust as he wanted to into the tentacle-mouth. But that was okay, as long as he got what he needed. And the plant was more than happy to give him every last little thing he needed, milking him of that orgasm with rippling pulse after pulse, the massage like a hand-like paw closing around him over and over again, drumming on hard ground. It was so perfectly calculated without any tiny element of the erratic that he could not see it as a dragon-like entity as himself, things coming together in a cacophony of sensation, all of which had to, individually, be paid attention to.

Snarling deep in the back of his mouth, although the sound went nowhere, Xigfeldo didn't hold back from letting his teeth graze the vine, knowing that it would be fine. It was tougher than that, tougher than him - after all, it had been crafted by dragons, planted by them too. That was just a part of its genetic make-up, what allowed it to be so kinkily lustful and what made it twist around him and pound his holes so delightfully, working towards its fervent high, bit by bit. There was more to come even as it milked his cock, the tentacle in his anal passage driving him on, forcing him, still willingly, to climax over and over again, one orgasm simply not enough for either of them. And that was all they needed, dragon and plant coming together in lustful passion, drama flourishing through, lifting them up on the high of an updraft that only one of them could ever enjoy in such a manner.

Xigfeldo's mind drifted, for once able to truly let himself go in the high of the plant's embrace. The flower seemed to throb like a dragoness' parted folds, her cloaca inviting him in, before his very eyes but he knew, even then, that the plant was by no means any kind of entity that would come back or speak of his prowess. Of course, he enjoyed when others talked about how sexually proficient he was, how many times he had gotten them off like no one else ever had, but being free to tease and experiment too was a joy and a liberty in itself.

He didn't have to pull out any tricks and, indeed, he didn't have to move at all if he didn't want to, allowing himself but a moment to rest in the softly supportive tentacles, entrapping him so softly that it was all he could do not to roll over into their embrace and lose himself there completely. They had him and, damn, did Xigfeldo know it too, tail twisting into the tentacles, encouraging them on, a pulsing flood of their juices flowing into him, up under his tail, into his cunny. His passageway for such fluids took every drop in gladness and thanks, sending it off into the chambers that his body could store it away for later use, though his tail hole would simply be forced to take it all, seeping up into his body and forcing him through a very pleasant feeling of fullness. For him, it was not enough to feel inflated or anything of that ilk, although that may have very well have been something he would have wanted to play with later if the plant could be found again.

Until then... He would enjoy the spurts, hot, thick juice flooding him. He could not say it was semen but, perhaps, he would find out later just what it was made up of, but that was just what his body was doing in storing it so he could find out more, never wanting to let things go to waste when he could experiment in the eroticism of it all. There was more, so much more, and he moaned around the shaft in his mouth, another one squeezing in beside it, forcing his jaws to their widest extent as he eagerly gulped around them. He didn't even taste the juice flowing down his throat, so deeply were they rammed, but holding his breath for a while wasn't a problem either as they crammed their way down his throat, forming a noticeable bulge that his repression of a gag reflex was more than able to take care of.

He wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else, revelling in each and every little moment, lips parted, though he could not have said that he did not at least lightly score the vines with his teeth. His healing power and intent would aid them in sealing closed in swifter time than normal but the strain under his tail was too great for him to not want to tense and respond in other ways too. Pulled every which way, his body convulsed in the best of ways, gyrating and twisting, trying to find which spot gave him the most pleasure, even though the true answer to that question was, of course, all of them. Everything gave him a different nuance as he was pounded and flooded, the tentacle around his shaft drawing back only to wrap around him again in a slenderer form.

That sensation... Oh, that was the crème de la crème of it all, the grand finale that had him blasting a roar out around the ones crammed down his throat, finding the last burst of breath with which to do so. It rippled and massaged his length just like the tease of a dragoness' pussy - not quite a taint, unfortunately - and he could not help but release his strongest orgasm yet, milked to completion and heaving lustfully, panting hard and fast, though nothing he did was anywhere near enough to snatch enough breath into his lungs to ease the ache there.

On and on, he was flooded through with the seed of the plant, panting and twisting, though he didn't possess or need the capacity to sweat, even though he was hotter than usual. Still, anyone else would have considered him to be cool to the touch, need rising, flushing up full and heady, tail twitching, his cock pulsing and pulsing until had spent every last drop that, at that time, he had to offer onto the tentacles writhing beneath him. He would have kept on though if not for the plant having done the deed that it was crafted to do, tentacle-vines teasing lightly from him, leaving his holes empty but, as always, still very much as tight as they'd ever been.

Xigfeldo smirked. He'd never be loose like a lesser dragon, never used up. The passion that thrummed through his blood would keep him young for centuries upon centuries.

As the plant slipped free from him, Xigfeldo found himself already in motion, the sweet scent winding itself around him and drawing him forward, step by step, a little pulse and flutter of his wings helping him hop from one 'perch' of tentacles to the next. The rolling, undulating sea pushed him on, not able to hang back for the want of something more, shaking his tail, though not a drop of the plant's seed slopped from him. No, his body was far too clever to let such a sweet treat go to waste and sealed it away for later perusal, although he did spare himself a moment to lick his lips salaciously, simply enjoying the taste as it lingered there, thick and heady in his mouth.

The petals of the giant flower, larger than he was, rustled and bloomed, swelling with life, growing larger and larger. And yet, even as they grew, they fell apart too, one petal after the other falling away as he murmured his appreciation of the show, a show that, of course, could only possibly have been put on by the green dragons. For what he had known earlier was that the green dragon princess, Yverta, had had to have been the one who had created and planted the vines, the flower that had brought him such delight, and now was allowing him passage through the mountain into the lands of the green dragons.

A reclusive sort, he could not help but admire all that they had done to preserve the fertility of their lands, rich and green and perfect for sowing crops, for keeping and maintaining life where there had, before, only been barren wastelands. They had done so much that it made sense that they wanted to protect it but Xigfeldo was honoured to be invited through to the green beyond, walking straight through the flower itself into a tunnel on the other side, which was lined with similar pink petals as if the very tunnel was formed of the plant itself. Maybe it still lived or maybe it would close up again, though that was a question he would have to ask of Yverta herself.

Still, he had a way to go yet and he hummed a tune to himself, head held high, as he followed the natural light of the tunnel back to the outside world where the green dragons resided. Time would tell the answers to that story and he groaned softly in the back of his throat, eyes alight and dancing, a spring in his step and a curl in his tail, flicking back and forth in a feline fashion.

If this is how Yverta greets her guests, what more could be waiting there?

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Xigfeldo grinned, showing his teeth. Only his arrival would tell the answer to that one.

And he couldn't wait to get there.