Nephis stared into the cold fury of the dragons' sapphire eyes, her neck tilted back elegantly to meet its gaze. Her hand rested almost casually on Eragon's shoulder, where she forced him to remain kneeled with unrelenting pressure, the white flames dancing calmly on his shoulder and partly down his arm.
Blood trickled down the knuckles of the youth's right hand from the clenched fist, dripping onto the cracked plates of dried earth and being swallowed by the crevices. He stared up at Nephis with a chilling expression no less menacing than that of the dragon that towered over them both, but despite the seemingly difficult situation she was in, no bystander would have mistaken her as being in peril.
Her expression was emotionless and uncaring, but her eyes burned with some intense, dark emotion that seemed eager to swallow up the world in its entirety, almost… greedy.
Then, it was gone. Her eyes became unreadable and cold, and the sinister, destructive aura she had been exuding disappeared instantly, as though it had never existed in the first place.
She sighed softly, casually lifting her hand from the young man's shoulder, lowering her gaze and stepping back.
Suddenly, the almost tranquil flame that danced across Eragon's arm roared to life, flowing down his arm and reaching his clenched fist. The dragon looked at Eragon with urgent concern expressed in her eyes, but before she could react, she suddenly stiffened and looked at her rider in confusion.
The white flame had vanished, and the shallow, bloody grooves in his palm that he had carved in blind rage with his own fingernails had disappeared, as though the injury had never occured in the first place. The youth looked down at his hand in confusion, then to the dragon.
His companion, ally, and friend. And perhaps something more, something that trespassed the boundaries of connection mortal relationships could ever hope to achieve. Nephis had sensed some small part of that connection, glimpsed it, and it had spoken to her. She felt as though she, too, had once had a connection like that before, one with someone very special to her, but before she could wonder who it had been, she had already forgotten the out-of-place feeling.
Stepping back and watching the reactions of the dragon, Saphira, and her rider, Eragon, with indifference, she suddenly bowed slightly, some of her silky silver hair slipping over her armored shoulders smoothly, eyes closing and placing her right hand solemnly on the chestplate decorated with seven stars, right above her heart. The dragon looked to her sharply, and as the youth clambered to his feet unsteadily, leaning heavily on his companion for support as his gaze moved from staring incredulously from his hand to the actions of the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life.
Then, Nephis spoke, her words clear and calm, without a drop of bloodlust within them. Still, whether consciously exuded or not, they summoned an air of authority, fearlessness, and even regality into the world that didn't allow them for even a moment to forget her dire power.
"It appears I have mistaken your intentions, and I apologize for my hostility. I had thought you might have been sent here to assassinate me, and were hiding your power for the right time to strike. I will not make such a mistake again, and I beg your forgiveness."
Despite her being the one apologizing, it still felt, somehow, that she was the one who was sparing them with her words.
Eragon looked at her uncertainly, then up at his dragon. They seemed, somehow, to be communicating with each other, even though neither responded immediately to her declaration, nor spoke words she was capable of hearing with each other.
Then, several moments later, Eragon looked back at Nephis and replicated her bow awkwardly, hands a little stiff at his sides.
"...We thank you for and tentatively accept your apology, my lady, on account of healing my wound, and therfore any lasting damage. Could, we, um, ask as to why you have changed your mind so suddenly?"
Nephis's hand drifted back to her side, and she straightened from her bow, voice full of authoritative power.
"I came to a realization."
…She did not expand upon her reasoning.
The youth looked more lost than ever, and failed miserably in trying to mask it.
"I, uh, see."
There was an awkward lull in the conversation as they stared at each other, Nephis impassively, and the boy and his dragon with a host of conflicting emotions. The dragon in particular didn't seem as though she was quite ready to bury the hatchet.
Though, of course, Nephis wasn't quite sure why burying a smaller axe would help in restoring a relationship between individuals.
Suddenly, however, there was a small squeaking sound, like a baby mouse being stepped on. Nephis and the boy looked over to where it had come from, only to meet an awkward sight. The boy's elder companion, of whom the both of them had seemingly forgotten about, was standing stiffly, staring at what had moments ago been a tense exchange. His legs were awkwardly wide, as though bracing himself to stop from collapsing to the ground, and he held his sword out with both hands, pointing at where Nephis had been while forcing Eragon to remain kneeled on the ground. The boy flinched, as though feeling bad for having forgotten about his companion, and he glanced quickly at Nephis before trotting over to him, awkwardly stepping past the outstretched sword and tentatively laying a hand on his shoulder.
"You okay, Murtaugh? Everythings alright now. I think."
He snuck a quick glance behind his shoulder at Nephis before continuing.
"Put the sword down, man. We're about to have an important discussion, at least that's what I'm led to believe."
The elder companion, Murtaugh, moved as though awakening from a trance. He lowered his sword slowly, and brought his legs back together with an awkward dragging of one foot. Then, he sheathed his sword with deceptively calm, exaggerated movements, and nodded, not looking away from where Nephis had just stood. Then, he blinked, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His eyes moved as though taking in the scene for the first time, darting between Eragon, who still had a hand on his shoulder, the dragon Saphira, and Nephis. When he spoke, his voice was a little shaky.
"Ah, um, yes, thank you, Eragon. I seem to have, err, lost myself. I apologize. Again."
Eragon frowned, creasing his brow and looking at him with concern. He didn't mention that it was the first apology he had given.
"... Sure."