This place couldn't be more boring. Naktis wants excitement. She wants vigor and life and fun and preferably food.

I want to go to sleep, Ygard mutters. She ignores him. He can want whatever he likes and it won't matter much to her.

She hears Reagan following her, his footsteps almost silent on the stone floors. It's uncanny how quietly he can move, but she's become adept at picking out the sounds he makes over the last few years. A glance over her shoulder reveals his exasperated expression, those dark blue eyes flitting from place to place, taking everything in. Naktis gives herself a moment to enjoy the way his cream knit sweater defines those lightly muscled shoulders and arms. Her only complaint about the shirt is the fact that it hides the gorgeous tattoos on his forearms--but he says that's why he wears long sleeves, because he doesn't like the attention the tats draw. Complaining about it gets her nowhere, she's tried.

Which is very disappointing.

Naktis faces forward again in time to avoid walking headfirst into a wall. She turns the corner sharply and finds herself in a long hallway with metal suits of red armor lined up on either side. A grin blooms on her face and she instantly moves toward one of the suits.

By the time Reagan rounds the corner, Naktis is prancing around in the armor, waving a sword. She whirls on him.

"Oh no, a damsel in distress!" She crows in a deep voice. "I'll rescue you!"

Reagan gives her a dry look and rumples a hand through his short, spiky dark blue hair. "I knew you were into women," he comments dryly.

Naktis wrinkles her nose. "Don't be disgusting."

"Don't be childish." He pauses, then one corner of his mouth twists. "Nevermind, disregard that. It's like telling the sun not to shine."

"Rude." She points the broadsword at him. "Now, scream, fair maiden!"

"The knight is supposed to rescue the damsel," Reagan says wryly, both hands in the pockets of his washed out jeans. "Not put her in distress."

"Then I shall be the dragon," Naktis says dramatically.

"You're wearing armor."

"Who says dragons can't wear armor?"

He just arches a dark blue brow. "Can we go back to the entry now? They're probably looking for us. I thought you wanted to find the King and get home."

"I do." She sheathes the large blade and puts her hands on her armored hips. The metal clinks and clacks as she moves, creating a cacophony that will probably annoy her very quickly. "I told you, the little queenling did something to him."

"We haven't even met the Queen yet," Reagan points out, eyes trailing over the hallway.

"It's always that way with mortals," Naktis says, sniffing. "Disgusting beasts that you are."

He arches a brow again. "Says the actual monster who eats people."

She waves him off. "I make no secret of what I am. Come now, let's explore! I bet we'll find the kingling tied up in the dungeon or in a tower. Or in the cookpot."

Actually, she'd like to find him in the cookpot. It would be a perfect excuse for dinner.

Reagan falls into step beside her as she prances down the hallway, once again swinging the sword to fight off imagined enemies.

"You used to be mortal, too," he says after a moment of watching her. There's a spark of amusement in his eyes, a little smile playing around his mouth. She likes that expression.

She really doesn't see why he takes issue with her kissing him in this form. It's so annoying.

Because it's disgusting. I'm the one who has to do it, Ygard says, sounding disgusted indeed.

"No one cares, Ygard," Naktis snaps.

Reagan glances at her again but doesn't comment, even though he can't hear Ygard. He knows her well enough to not bother with irritating, pointless questions.

She hums to herself as they wander the halls, trying to make up a tune to match the clanking of her newly acquired armor.

"If the Queen is behind this, why do you think she brought us here?" Reagan asks after a while, his tone contemplative. Naktis glances at him. His sharply defined features are set in a thoughtful expression, his long-fingered hands still encased in the pockets of his jeans. She wishes they were in Mèndulthë or even just Zar. This far from home, she has no access to her real body. She can only feel the fuzzy, disjointed sensations she gets from Ygard.

If she were in her real body, she would get him to touch her so she could feel those hands. The sooner they find this kingling, the better.

Naktis wants to go home. She likes exploring worlds, but ultimatums are no fun and she doesn't appreciate being forced to do this. She doesn't care about his stupid kingdom or its silly monarchs or their sad little mortal lives.

"Who cares? It means I can eat her," she mutters, tossing her head. The helmet of the suit of armor falls over her face and for a moment she can't see, which instantly earns her displeasure. "Off! Off, off, off!" She starts pulling at the gauntlets wildly, suddenly full of the need to be free of them. "Get them off! Off now! Now now now now!"

"Relax, Nat," Reagan murmurs, and she vaguely realizes that her face has been freed, her hands as well. He's standing in front of her, working the clasp of the breastplate free. "Why did you even put this thing on?"

She huffs. "It looked fun. It lied. It's a liar. I don't like this world, it lies."

Those fathomless blue eyes flick up to hers and he gives her a small, wry smile. "We'll be home soon."

Something in her feels melty and warm. How does he do that? It must be some form of sorcery, some hidden power he wields. Her whole body feels suspended suddenly, everything but him far away and out of reach.

He does this to her often. It might be why she hasn't eaten him yet. Why she lets him stick around. Why she doesn't object to him calling her 'Natalie', even though she hasn't gone by that name in centuries.

She wants to know the secret, wants to know what he's doing to her. It isn't fair. She doesn't understand this feeling.

"We'd better be," she says after a moment, her tone turning sultry and sweet just to distract herself, "because this is all your fault, and I won't hesitate to have you for dinner if we don't get home."

"Sure," he says, the corners of his almond shaped eyes crinkling with amusement. She can't really feel her body from this far away, but she thinks her heart is galloping. Stupid. What nonsense is this? What is it about his stupid face?

Reagan finishes removing the armor, the last piece clattering to the floor. Naktis stretches her arms contentedly and sets off down the corridor again. "Let's find the kingling," she says.

"He's probably not here."

"Don't be pessimistic."

"That's rich, coming from you."

She glances at him to see him studying the walls again. She wonders what he sees with those quick eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," she says innocently, tucking her arm into his. "I'm very optimistic. It's simple: if anyone is annoying, they'll probably taste good." Reagan glances down at her, amused and obviously slightly exasperated. He pats her hand and doesn't respond, as if he thinks she's a lost cause. He's probably right.

Naktis takes to humming again as they wind through passage after passage.

"How long have we been in this world, anyway?" She asks after some time has gone by. She doesn't know how long, doesn't care. Time is so... irrelevant. So why did she ask that question?

She's already forgotten. Was there a reason?

Oh well.

"Almost two weeks," Regan says.

"Boring." She waves him off.

"You think everything is boring," he says dryly.

"Not smoothies." Ooh, she could really go for a smoothie, actually... something with cherries...

Reagan laughs, a low, soft sound that somehow makes its way in between Naktis' ears and refuses to leave. Her chest squeezes painfully and she finds herself looking up at him. He's not that much taller than this form she's in, but sometimes he seems to be. Sometimes he seems larger than life.

Sometimes she thinks he's taking over her definition of the word. He is life.

"What?" He asks, arching a brow at her. Naktis purses her lips, trying to scowl.

"What what?" She demands.

"You were staring at me."

"I was not!" She isn't sure, but the face that belongs to her--not this face, the one stuck back in Zar--feels a bit hot. "And if I was," she amends, because she was staring, for whatever stupid reason, "it's only because I was thinking about eating you in a smoothie."

"I do taste good with ice cream," Reagan says, and Naktis imagines that he would indeed--in more ways than one. She smirks at him and he pauses, seeming to realize what he said. "Er..." his cheeks flush a pale red, the tips of his ears coloring. "I mean, in a smoothie, if... uh..."

He clears his throat and looks back at the wall. "This way," he says quickly, and pulls her down another hallway.

Naktis continues smirking. Making Reagan uncomfortable is fun.

She opens her mouth to say something else that's guaranteed to make him squirm, but she's interrupted by a voice from the end of the hall.

"There you are!" A human says, scurrying toward them. He's dressed in something uniform-ish and red, and his mouth is pulled to the left in displeasure. "You should not run off within the Queen's palace."

"Sorry," Reagan says. "We got lost."

"Do you taste good?" Naktis asks the annoying human, tilting her head to one side. "Your face is annoying and it makes me hungry."

The man blinks, then seems to decide to ignore her as he focuses on Reagan. How dare he. She's instantly seething.

"Yes, well, come with me," the human mutters, and turns smartly on his black shiny boot heels.

"I don't like being ignored," Naktis hisses.

Reagan pats her arm. "You can eat him later," he says soothingly.

She doesn't really feel soothed, but she only huffs and looks away. That one is definitely on her list, though.

The whole universe is on your list, Ygard mutters.

Naktis smirks to herself. For all that Ygard is annoying, he might have a point. And the whole universe does, indeed, sound appetizing...