Chapter 43: Reserve and Subtlety Are Human Nature

Lilith grew up in an Eastern society. Reserve settled on her like morning frost, a habit shaped by long years of study.

Even in another world, another gender, another species, that modest veil clung like silk.

She lived in a different air, yet her gentle reticence stayed like a shadow at noon.

Lilith isn’t good at speaking her feelings. Her heart prefers quiet coves beneath willow shade.

She doesn’t like receiving feelings head-on; she hides like a bird under a sleeve.

Daily, she reaches out with clingy little gestures, like soft moss on stone.

She hugs, sprawls across you, loops her arms around yours, warm as sunlight on a winter sill.

A light kiss on a cheek or forehead is already a mountain pass for her.

As for love, spoken love, it mostly lives in her imagination like a firefly in a jar.

The Little White Dragon never had the courage to voice that word, heavy as summer thunder.

The cool Black Dragon didn’t say it either, her silence like a still lake at night.

The way the Black Dragon and White Dragon are together isn’t like lovers in novels or bardic songs.

Flowery phrases never came; Lilith can count on her fingers the times they traded sweet words.

Besides a few blurts in the haze of passion, there was only that imperfect night of the Coining Festival.

So when Nidhogg truly said love, that spellbound word, Lilith admits she froze like a startled fawn.

Heat rushed up her face, redder than flame-lit clouds at sunset, a blush like a pouring dawn.

Her pale snow dumpling of a face turned into a ripe tomato; she stammered and found no words.

Lilith lowered her head like a shy swallow.

She buried her little head in Nidhogg’s arms. She whispered, soft as dew, "I get it. Stop saying it. You aren’t shy at all."

"Do you know where you went wrong?" Nidhogg asked, voice calm as midnight.

She pulled the Little White Dragon into her arms, patting her back like a steady drum.

Her hand traced the perfect line of Lilith’s back, gentle as a tide.

Lilith began counting her sins under Nidhogg’s supervision, ticking them off like beads.

"I shouldn’t stew in silence."

"I shouldn’t run out without telling you."

"I shouldn’t ignore my body."

"I shouldn’t go adventuring alone."

"I shouldn’t..."

She wracked her brain until it emptied, then looked up, small and wounded, at Nidhogg.

In the Black Dragon’s eyes, Lilith’s flushed face trembled, almost crying, like a rainy peach blossom.

"Is that enough, Nidhogg? I really can’t think of more."

Nidhogg rubbed the Little White Dragon’s cheeks, kneading her face into a crumpled bun.

She whimpered and squirmed in the Black Dragon’s arms, a fish caught in a warm net.

But struggling meant nothing; Nidhogg held her easily and breathed in her ear.

"You did great. My dearest Little White Dragon."

"I’ll always trust you, and you’ll trust me like this."

"I believe you’ll see your mistakes and mend them."

"But wrong is wrong; you still have to be punished, don’t you?"

"Punished?" Lilith asked, alert as a cat hearing a twig snap.

Something in Nidhogg’s tone pricked her; a small danger rustled like grass.

She tensed instinctively, a hedgehog folding in.

"Of course, nothing harsh."

"Just a tiny change of address."

"Like letting me call you ‘dear’ for five minutes?" Nidhogg grinned, sly as moonlight on water.

Her face flared red at once; Nidhogg had found her soft spot like a string.

The Little White Dragon leapt up and blocked the Black Dragon’s mouth, eyes blazing.

"Don’t you even think about it!" she said, blush bright as lanterns.

Lilith opened her mouth and bit Nidhogg’s hand, a fox asserting its den.

She huffed out of those arms and scampered to the edge of the pitch-black passage.

She summoned white wings, held them like a shield between them, face tight with worry.

She watched Nidhogg closely, afraid of another trick sprouting like thorns.

"Fine, I won’t tease you." Nidhogg saw a timid little beast and relented like rain easing.

She walked to the dark passage.

She said, "Our clever Little White Dragon, can you brief me on the situation?"

"I feel like you’ve grown talkative in just a moment," Lilith muttered, shooting her a look.

But she still explained everything, dutiful as a lantern lighting a path.

"Okay, so you don’t know whether there’s danger inside?" Nidhogg nodded, eyes steady as basalt.

"I know a little, strictly speaking—like exposed spikes—but beyond that, I’m helpless."

Lilith shrugged, shoulders light as willow leaves.

"Why not test it?" Nidhogg asked.

"Condense an ice block and toss it down."

"See if these tunnels hide other mechanisms."

"Right, you’re a genius!" Lilith clapped her head, chiding herself like a slow carp.

She hurried to Nidhogg’s side and conjured a big block of ice, cold as moonstone.

She threw it into the pitch-black, bottomless shaft, a star falling into a well.

The ice dropped unharmed.

Spikes around it carved scratches on its surface, scars like cat-claws.

Lilith judged that level acceptable.

Nidhogg’s body could shrug off such attacks like a rock against rain.

The Little White Dragon could hide in Nidhogg’s arms or shield herself with ice.

In short, the test showed no messy traps; the passage seemed safe to cross.

"Looks fine, right?" Lilith said to Nidhogg, voice light as mist.

"Then we go down now?" Nidhogg opened her arms, an invitation like a gliding crane.

"Mm." The Little White Dragon hugged the tall Black Dragon and leaned back into the fall.

Together, they dropped into the dark channel, two shadows slipping into the throat of night.