Chapter 12: Dragon Detention and Disguised Flirting

The black marble of the dungeons seemed to suck out one's soul, not just the heat – the opposite of a relaxing spa, Gabriel thought sarcastically. He wondered if the Arcane School of Luxflutuante offered "detention with emotional torture included" packages, because the cold humidity that gnawed at his bones was almost as irritating as the sepulchral silence, broken only by the incessant dripping and Greta's low growls. Each drop that echoed in the darkness seemed to mock his misfortune.

Suddenly, the stamp on his hand throbbed, an irritating warmth spreading across his palm. Fay's chibi image, with its tongue sticking out in eternal mockery, seemed to wink.

"Psst! Player!" Fay's voice, sharp and shrill, sounded like a buzzing coming from the stamp, vibrating against Gabriel's skin. "Enjoying the classic captive atmosphere? I bet if you were of age, you'd be having a blast here! Dungeons, monsters, treasure… or just getting screwed, who knows? Hahaha! It's the Player's life, darling! Adventure, excitement, danger… and a high probability of premature death!"

Gabriel glared at the stamp with a grimace. "Oh, sure, stamp…" He sighed, rubbing the image on his pants. "Classic captivity. It's like an all-inclusive resort, only with less food and more despair." He kicked a small stone on the floor, as if bored.

The orc, beside him, impatiently tapped her foot on the stone floor – a caged panther, her contained energy overflowing into abrupt movements. On the other side of the improvised cell, Lysandra remained erect and still, her face pale as wax, her blue eyes fixed on a distant point, in a pose of frozen superiority that would probably crack if someone sneezed. The scent of jasmine, now mixed with the acrid odor of ashes, revealed the recent use of magic – a failed escape attempt?

The stamp trembled slightly, and Gabriel felt the vibration on his skin.

"Oh, the stuck-up elf!" Fay commented, and Gabriel could almost see the chibi tongue sticking out. "Love seeing the nobility get screwed! And the orc? She looks like she's going to explode any minute! How boring, nobody ever explodes…"

"Yeah… explosions would be… interesting…" Gabriel murmured to the floor, scratching the back of his neck (indirect action + disguised whisper), as if considering the idea.

Lira, in her portable aquarium, emitted an intermittent greenish glow, looking like a goldfish in aquatic punishment. The bubbles escaping from her gills formed words in Merfolk: Boredom… Frustration… Shame….

"'Shame'? What an exaggeration!" Fay's voice sounded shrill from the stamp. "Seriously? It's just a little detention! If it were me, I'd be having a blast! I love watching you insignificant little creatures suffer! Hihihihi! But, of course, I'm a goddess, and you… well, you're just… you. Too bad…"

"What a great perspective, stamp…" Gabriel muttered, rolling his eyes (indirect action) and flicking Fay's image. "You should write a self-help book."

And Seraphine… Seraphine was the very embodiment of a "death glare." If eyes could shoot laser beams, Gabriel bet the dungeon would already be in ruins. Leaning against the farthest wall, she looked more like a shadow than a creature of flesh and blood, her red eyes glowing in the darkness like embers, her aura of danger palpable.

The stamp on Gabriel's hand suddenly heated up.

"Ooh, the vampire's pissed!" Fay observed, with false concern. "Is she going to turn someone into mincemeat? I hope so! I love a good bloodbath! But, of course, no hurting my little Player, okay? He's still underage… and I have plans for him… Muahahahaha!"

"Oh, plans…" Gabriel whispered, faking a cough (disguised whisper with cough). "What a surprise…" He coughed again, louder.

Gabriel sighed, feeling the stamp vibrate with Fay's silent laughter (connection with the stamp). At least the situation couldn't get any worse, right? Wrong. The next second, a skeletal rat scurried past his feet, and Gabriel let out a yell that echoed through the dungeon, making everyone – including Seraphine – jump in surprise.

Silence. Then, the stamp tingled intensely.

"Hahahahahahaha! Look at their faces! How boring!" Fay's voice, a high-pitched buzzing in Gabriel's head. "But it was funny, I'll admit…"

A surly Centaur, and… stinking of manure. The dungeon keeper, Gildeon, enters the room, breaking the atmosphere of silence. "You are released from detention, you can go!"

Around a bend in the dungeon tunnels, where the walls narrowed like a throat about to swallow them. The air there was colder, charged with the metallic smell of damp stone and something else… acrid, like sulfur. A dull thud echoed, followed by an orange glow. Oracio, the teenage dragon, had collided with a column, releasing a shower of sparks that illuminated, for an instant, the scarred runes under his bronze-colored scales. Gabriel shuddered, remembering the class on domestic dragons: the restraint marks, burned into their hides, to tame their pyromaniac instinct.

"It… it was an accident!" Oracio hastened to say, his wings fluttering like torn curtains. "Headmistress Evangeline… I kind of showered her. By accident, I swear! I was flying and I didn't see her below."

Lysandra let out a dry laugh, almost a growl.

"What a surprise. Another day, another pathetic creature in this school. We have vampires having tantrums, show-off mermaids, a lost human, worse, a stinky 'player,' and now… a dragon with a loose bladder (commonly known as a bedwetter)."

"At least he doesn't wear teddy bear panties," Greta muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Lysandra's face, usually as pale as the dungeon marble, turned red. She shot a furious look at Greta, without answering, she stomped off, muttering about "lack of decorum" and "the decline of elven standards."