Making a home (France/Germany)

[Francis Bonnefoy]

In the middle of a clearing in a forest, if one was listening, it was possible to hear whistling amongst the ringing of a hammer. Upon closer inspection, it would have been see as quite strange to see this man working on his roof dressed as oddly as he was. For one, this man didn't wear a shirt with sleeves. It could be argued it was too warm to cover any more of the body than was necessary, but when working on a building, it could be counted as necessary. Looking down the body, the entire outfit was just baffleing. Dressed in a mixture of blues in greens, his top only came to about his mid torso, stoping just under the breast bone. From there, his pants hugged his legs tightly, also a canvess of blue intermixed with greens. If one knew this man, it wouldn't have been a surprise to see him without shoes. Though it still wasn't all that wise considering he was, at it looked like, working on fixing the roof of a cabin that had seen its better days. This man, well, half-elf, if asked, they would find that he was a loner by choice and by design.

He was picked on for being too pretty by the humans, when he lived with his mother. He had hid his ears during this time with his hair even though it affected his hearing. Though it wasn't much better when he was taken by his elfling father to live amgonst his kind. For it is, halflings using elves tend too look opposite. While the humans saw him as a beautiful creature, the elves saw him as plain as a mortal, nothing to remember or make much of an effort for. Once Francis reached an age by which elves were considered mature, he left.

He had arrived here, in the clearing on the woods, nearly a week ago and decided this would be his new home, this haven from those that would torment him just for a reaction. This house, which he was fixing with his own hands, would be his. And those needing his abilities would only be able to find him if they truely needed him. Not all elves had abilities, and francis' was a common one, the gift of healing. He would heal those that cane to him, but they had to find him first. His few friend he had would be able to find him easily, for they knew of the place he was looking for.

Sighing a running an arm over his forehead, he looked around. The sun was getting high and the heat was starting to build. Soon it would be to much for someone of his complexion. He needed to get into the cabin and cool down.

"All in all, I think I'll like it here. "

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Nothing was cozier than a lair of treasure and rock. Not for the dreaded Geragon at least…but he had left his comforts and curled upon a hill far from the village. There, he lay in the sun, wings spread out as he snacked upon an old heifer.

It was all he could do to keep himself from raiding the village right now, but he had been forcing himself to wait until nightfall. It was much easier, after all, to snatch up livestock and the like under the cover of darkness than it was to do so in the broad of day. Besides, even if he was large with thick scales and was nigh impregnable compared to the other beings of the realm, he had grown to where he wasn’t as keen on exposing himself all the time. No, that was the cause for a lot of his past predicaments… looking back on it, he had been foolish young dragonling. But what could one expect from such a creature as he but boldness, ferocity, greed, and a superior attitude?

Regardless, the meal that had stained his teeth red was gone and there was a ringing in the air. It was a small echo almost. Tilting his head to the side, he stilled himself so he could listen all the better.

Thunk… Thunk… Thunk…

A slow and steady hammering? Who’d be hammering this far out in his territory!?

Licking his lips and moving to his feet, the green dragon prepared himself for flight and then took to the skies. It honestly didn’t take him too long to find the source of the noise and as his immense shadow crossed over the clearing and blocked out the sun above, he got a faint feeling that this person was either incredibly, brave, stupid, or an outcast. Why else would they have come to that abandoned shack?

Regardless, he tucked his wings in close to his body and descended upon the clearing caring little for the fear he may instill into the man working below. It was one man, after all, not an army. And there wasn’t an overwhelming smell of magic o he doubted that this …rather interestingly clad man was a mage or powerful wizard. The gusts from the dragon’s wings kicked up dust and caused the trees to tremble, but as he landed, it barely caused a tremor—there was no use in that right now. If he needed to put on a display of power, he’d do so later when it was actually needed, otherwise, he’d conserve his energy.

“Who are you?” he growled out, taking a step forward and lowering his head so that he could better see into the cabin and to let cornflower blue eyes lock in on the man (wherever he had taken refuge if he was smart enough to do so…). “Und vhat are you doing here?” Geragon’s nostrils flared as a few whisps of flame and smoke puffed out of them. “Do you not realize zhat zhis ist mine?” He meant, of course the forest itself, but then again the greedy dragon had a habit of claiming most things to be his…mountains, forests… anywhere he had decided to settle for a while and the places nearby—all his.

The only think keeping him from completely incinerating this place was the fact this fellow smelled of kin--magical kin. Had he been human, then it was likely he'd not have heard one word before getting devoured.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

This hammering was hard work he had to admit to himself, but no one else would do it if he wouldn’t. This shack wouldn’t fix itself and he couldn’t depend on others to help. Well, there were a few that might, but they weren’t around anywhere close, so it was up to him. The feel of the hammer in his hand was an odd one, though not all together uncomfortable, even if he did hit a finger the first few times he swung the hammer on the first board. He needed to get his house prepared for a rain he knew was coming. He might be an earth creature that preferred to live in the woods, but as far as he could tell, none of his race really like to live in the rain, or in a house that the rain turned their beds into a makeshift washtub. He had often called his race referred to as beautiful, but standoffish, haughty even. Francis didn’t think he was like this at all, but then again, he was half human. He didn’t live amongst part of his race for a long time and it was always the same. It taught him humility…which didn’t seem to be a common thing amongst the other races, at least not with the elves. Though the healers were a different matter. They taught him there skills, cause in times of war, it didn’t matter the blood status or the race, ever healer was needed.

With a sigh, he looked down at his work. He had at least repaired his roof to the best of his ability, there should be no leeks into his bed, not anytime soon at least. The rest of this place left something to be desired though. It was worn down and old, but Francis didn’t care. This place was his and his alone, his to do what he wanted and he could take time and pride in fixing it up. He was getting tired though, enough to call it quits. He thought he did enough for now, as he wasn’t used to working this hard with his hands and muscles in his arms and back he never used much before were hurting. And it seemed like he was quitting just in time. A shadow had passed overhead, much like as a cloud would pass in front of the sun, but something was odd about it.

Moving was a bit of a chore, a part of his mind had decide that a hot bath with some oils would be the preferable method to get rid of the tense muscles that tightened up with no prior warning. Looking up, the bit of color he had drained from his face as a fear settled across him. It looked like a dragon, and he had always been warned to stay away from them. There was no guarantee he would be spared, a dragons temper could be as easily sparked as the flame was that shot from its mouth. As the creature lowered out of the sky, Francis scrambles as fast as he could and barely made it inside as the creature touched down. He knew there was no point in locking the door, though he did anyway. It was a false protection, for if the dragon wanted to, he could have smashed through the side of the house as easily as could be.

“Who are you?”

The deep voice rumbled through the air and through the cabin, one eye peaking through his window and catching sight of him in the smallish kitchen. If he wasn’t in the danger that he was, Francis would have taken the time to admire the smooth hide he could see over the dragon’s eye, the way the slopes curved on the dragon’s visage. Really, in any other situation he would have tried to draw the magnificent creature.

“Und what are you doing here? Do you not realize zhat zhis ist mine?”

He had seen the small licks of flame followed by the trails of smoke, and he dared to hope that since he and this place hadn’t been incinerated yet, that he wasn’t at a huge risk of being eaten as he had thought he was. Swallowing rather loudly, he moved towards the door, closer to that eye looking at him and towards an unknown future. Exiting the house, he bowed, trying to hide his fear of this creature that could step on him and not notice, showing a respect that he was always taught was necessary.

“I am Francis; it’s a pleasure to meet you Sir Dragon. I apologize for invading your territory; I wasn’t informed a dragon lived here. Could we perhaps work out a deal while we drink some tea?”

He had been taught manners growing up and he always fell back on them when frightened. He had hoped this show of manners would at least intrigue the dragon enough to where they could talk and he wouldn’t end up a crisp of an elfling.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

A low grumble issued from the dragon’s chest as he awaited some sort of answer. Likewise, his fierce blue eyes locked onto the man’s movement as he disappeared into the little structure. The already serpentine pupils were but a sliver as another puff of smoke drifted from Geragon’s nostrils. He pressed his face closer to the window to view the man.

“Vell?!” He pressed on, the man was not speaking quickly enough for the beasts liking. Really, the great green lizard should have considered that the other was likely frozen in fear, but such a notion had slipped from the dragon’s mind.

However, as the man began to move for the door, Geragon drew back just enough so that his snout would not be pressing against the man as he moved out. Observing his movements, he does give something akin to a hum of approval at the bow. “Good, the human knows his place,” Geragon drew his head back more, lifting it into the air and tilting it to the side as the man spoke. It wasn’t necessarily an act of curiosity, but due to his size, it was often hard to hear smaller beings. Therefore, he ensured that he’d have at least one ‘ear’ out as the man spoke.

“I am Francis; it’s a pleasure to meet you Sir Dragon. I apologize for invading your territory; I wasn’t informed a dragon lived here. Could we perhaps work out a deal while we drink some tea?”

“Sir Dragon.. Respectful albeit, odd,” the creature mused, righting his head and lowering it once more to narrow his gaze at the man. A hot breath (which likely reeked of cattle) escaped from his lips, causing the other’s hair to blow lightly as a result. “Vell, now you know,” he growled and lifted a foreleg to step around him, craning his neck to take in the man’s visage in its entirety. “…a deal…?” the green beast hissed as he nudged the roof of the house with his snout (partially to scratch an itchy spot he had). Regardless, the home had been repaired enough that the gentle nudge wouldn’t do much, but the creaking of wood still echoed through the area.


“What could you possibly offer me zhat I couldn’t take already?” Geragon stilled and let his gaze resettle on Francis. For once, he was mildly curious about what sort of ‘deal’ a human could offer him. If anything, for now, the Halfling was safe from getting eaten.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

From the time his father first took him to live amongst the elves, he remembered the first lesson that was burned into his brain, respect all of the magical creatures, for even the good ones could pull nasty stunts if they felt they were disrespected. The darker creatures and the more dangerous ones... well, it was best to avoid them if at all possible, as they tended to pull nasty acts to any outsider if respectful or not. But he was told, if respectful, the awful act would be worse if they were disrespected. But all creatures had their own set of guidelines and morals they followed. This was such a case. Dragons were typically neutral creatures, there were exceptions of course, but he could only hope this one was neutral and would listen to what he had to say before trying to eat him.

He couldn’t help but to panic as the creature pushed upon his newly finished roof with his snout, the whole thing creaking in the process. It wasn’t completely finished yet, some of the floor needing fixing and a bit of heavier work needed done, but it was his house that he repaired and the only place he had to stay. If the dragon decided to destroy the house out of spite or in accordance with its honor code or even just because it felt like it (it because he didn’t know if Dragons had genders), he would be left homeless with nowhere close to go for shelter. He held back a cry of protest at the action, after all, it would do no good in the long run.

"A deal?"

The words were hissed from that sharpened maw, a rank breath with it that made Francis sick just to smell it. He was a vegetarian by nature and the smell of meat as strong as it was almost broke his respectful nature. it would not be a good deal in his favor if he ended up being sick over the dragons foot. A part of his mind wondered how many times he would have to wash his hair to get the smell out of it from where it was blown back from the breath. He could only nod at the words and hold his own until the queasy feeling went away.

"What could you possibly offer me zhat i couldn't take already?"

It was here that he felt he could plead his case and earn his freedom. It was his only shot to stay alive and keep himself whole. While his own family wouldn't miss him, he did have friends that would and it was for his friends that he tried to bargain with a dragon.

"I am a healer. I could over you and your guests my service in exchange for my life and being allowed to live in this cabin, if that is satisfactory to you? I have very little gold, and nothing else to bargain with."

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Geragon looked to the man for a moment as a small cry seemed to be muffled. A green brow raised as he waited. Geragon was not the most patient of beings on a good day—and due to his size and strength he was afforded such a luxury. This was especially so whenever he was dealing with something that he wanted—he didn’t normally have to wait, he’d just pluck it up for himself and fly away before another word. Being the terror of the skies did have its benefits, after all.

His claws drummed lightly on the ground, prodding at the dirt and making shallow holes as he waited for an answer. Truthfully, he was a touch amused by the look that washed over the man’s face, but at the same time, he was somewhat offended…or embarrassed. Was his breath that rancid? Ah, well, it was not something he could really help. Perhaps the next time he sought a meal, he’d choose something with coarser hair or a knight with a pike—at the very least he could use the latter as a tooth pick to dig out whatever pieces of rotten meat (or cake) there was between his massive teeth.

“I’m waiting!” He was just about to bellow demandingly, when the man finally spoke up again.

Geragon shifted and sniffed a bit at the other, a sort of a scoff escaping his lips as they curled up to show a set of pointed fangs. “Guests—zhat’s laughable,” he mused aloud. Who in their right mind would willingly lodge with a dragon anyway? Most would be too frightened to become his next meal whenever the beast grew bored with them or were terrified they would accidently get crushed while the dragon shifted about his cave.

Still, it was something to consider… his very own healer for those times when the villagers got lucky, but the dragon was not about to trust him without proof. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any wounds to let Francis prove himself and he wasn’t about to inflict one upon himself. Edging closer, Geragon slowly raised one gargantuan hand and reached out towards Francis.

“Show me how you heal zhen,” with a sharp flick of his finger, he drew one claw from the man’s left shoulder to his upper left pectoral. The claw took with it a bit of cloth and skin, but it wasn’t forceful or deep enough to cause extensive damage—at the very most, Francis would bear a nasty scab for a few days or perhaps a scar later if it did not heal properly. He wouldn't bleed out or suffer from punctured arteries from the little slash; Geragon had no reason to fully injure or kill Francis right now. Besides, if the other was a healer like he stated, then this wound should, in theory, be no problem for him to handle. Regardless, the dragon's gaze remained on the man, waiting for him to act.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

“Guests—zhat’s laughable,”

Well, how was Francis supposed to know the Dragon didn’t have guests. For all he knew, other dragons came around or well, it was still something nice to say, something to offer for future circumstances. He didn’t know if Dragons really stole princesses or anything, but if they did, he could at least heal her, for he was sure she would injure herself in trying to escape. But that was another assumption he didn’t want to make known.

“Show me how you heal zhen,”

The claw moved quickly, he only had time to process the words before feeling a stinging across part of his chest. He’d knew he’d feel it more later, but for now, he managed to keep quiet. He couldn’t let the dragon know he was injured even it the dragon did it himself. Never show a weakness, and Francis was a proud elfling. Slowly removing his shirt, he assessed the damage and while he knew it would be fine in a few days with little effort, but that’s not what the dragon wanted to see. Herb work was boring and slow. This required something with a bit of show, something that would impress the great creature in front of him. Lifting a hand, he laid it over the scratch and closed his eyes. Breathing in deeply, he focused his energy and let it pour through his hand and onto the damage skin. The energy was a light blue in color and traced over the wound, gently drawing the two pieces of skin back together.

A small sigh as it sealed shut, he looked up at the dragon. He hated wasting energy for healing that would best be dealt with on less showy terms, but in a fight for his life, he would do what was needed to convince the dragon he was worth keeping around. Though this little cut hardly to that much, but that wasn't the point of the matter.  Looking down at his chest, there was no scar, no indication of a wound having been given, not a trace of red remained.

“I hope that was satisfactory?”

He honestly needed a nice strong cup of tea after that.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

The gargantuan beast glowered down at the other, waiting and observing the slash he had just created on the man’s chest. Already, blood has begun to pool and trickle downward, staining clothes and skin alike, and the scent of the liquid—though faint—caused Geragon to scrunch up his snout just a bit and bare his front teeth. Had it not been full from his previous meal, the scent of a wounded being would have been almost enough to snap up the Elvin half-breed for a snack. Regardless, he stayed his claw and quirked an eyebrow as Francis bit backs a cry of pain and removed his shirt. He had to give the other credit for not shrieking and swearing to the gods for receiving the little injury.

“Hm..?”

The dragon leaned closer as the Francis laid a hand to his chest. Was he going to try and shove the skin together? Mend it with energy? The dragon couldn’t quite say as he’d never witnessed healing like this with his own eyes. However, as the blue glow grew around the hand and the wound, the beast drew his brows together and squinted. He still remained a decent space away from the Halfling, but he was curious to see just how the mending worked. He also couldn’t help but wonder if the healing was painful—after all, the finished product revealed that the once ripped flesh had been drawn back together without any apparent sutures or the like. Had Geragon not committed the act of harming the man himself, he would not have believed that Francis had ever sustained an injury.

“Ja…” the giant reptilian’s voice rumbled a bit as he settled back in front of the man. “I suppose it is satisfactory.” He tilted his head to the side skeptically, looking toward Francis with one cornflower blue eye. “Und…your powers…to vhat extent do zhey go? How bad of an injury can you heal? Zhat—“ he pointed to the other’s chest, “—vas merely a flesh wound.” At least in the dragon’s eyes it was. “Vhat of zhe inner illnesses? Can you heal zhose as vell?” He meant, of course, the diseases and sicknesses that might plague one’s body from time to time—not demon spells or the like that would affect one’s mind and body with magic...though if the man had a treatment for those things as well, he would prove to be more than just a valuable ally.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

"If we are going to be talking powers and their uses, I hope you do not mind that I make myself some tea....I can try to make you some but I regret I have not a cup for your size."

And he didn’t. A cup that would suit the dragon would have to be nearly as wide as...well, he wasn't sure. But it would have to be big. Not waiting for an answer, he headed inside to brew a pot. ...and perhaps add a small nip of fermented honey as well. Francis knew he could use something with a bite to it to help settle his nerves. Elves were always supposed to show a semblance of calm....but over the years, he had learned to master this facade. Though he did show through sometimes, relating it to the fact he wasn’t a full blooded elf. It was the human half, the sides that related to the mortals, constantly subjected to the fickle emotions and varied day by day.

A few minutes past before he emerged with a steaming cup and a small, natural chair. Placing it in front of the dragon, he took a drink, fingers curved delicately around the cup.

"My powers, sir dragon, are all energy based. It is the skill of energy manipulation. Every cell uses energy. Taking my own energy, I can insert it into other cells, forcing the energy to my command. I force the body to heal itself, to stitch itself back together. If it’s a fresh wound; there should be no scaring. If it’s an older one, the body’s own repair functions have started and I can only speed up the natural process it would have taken. “

Francis had to take a drink and a breath. He was not used to talking that long, and he couldn’t let his voice give out on him. It would smudge his pride if his voice were to give out on him. Plus it wouldn't do to look weak in front of a predator like a dragon.


"If you will, part of our deal can consist of my inhabiting this house and heal you physically when needed.....I cannot heal the dead, but the worse the injury requires more energy. I’m limited to my own every unless someone is gifted enough to channel energy through me."

Looking up at the dragon and over his large, scaly body, he shrugged.

"I don’t know if my powers will work on non-humanoid types, but I don’t see why not ... Once I get a feel for the way the energy flows."

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

The massive green dragon remained still on his haunches, but offered a low rumble of amusement. “You vould need to be able to fill a few barrels if you vanted to offer me a sufficient amount of tea. Go und have your drink, zhen.” Geragon jerked his head toward the little shack the man had been repairing, though Francis had already started toward the shelter himself.

With a little sigh, the dragon glanced around quickly and slowly started to lower himself to the ground. Sitting in such a way just wasn’t as comfortable as laying down on the nice warm grass, after all. As he waited for the Halfling to return, Geragon curled on arm in towards his chest and rested his head on it. With his other arm, he reached over to toy with a large rock near the shack. Using the tip of his claw, he pushed the rock away from himself and then let it fall back to earth with a THUD, but not before allowing a few creepy crawling critters to scamper away—namely a snake and an abundance of insects.

He exhaled deeply as the man returned, setting a chair in front of where he had lain down. Cornflower blue eyes watched as Francis lifted the cup to drink and then moved to the man’s face as he began to speak again. At the beginning, he gave a hum of skepticism and lifted his head to look the man squarely in the face. “Zhe more severe the injury, zhe more energy it takes from you to heal,” he repeated, trying to make sense of it in his own mind. “For instance, a small papercut vould hardly take anything at all, but if you were to try und mend life-threatening vound, you vould potentially be exchanging your health for zhe patient’s—at least in some regards?” The dragon offered a minor frown. “Zhough I’d expect you could recover much easier from energy loss zhan someone who’s bleeding out of a head vound. Regardless, I believe zhat I can agree to zhat sort of deal so long as you are actually try to heal me vhen I need it most.” The last thing the dragon needed was someone with empty promises and the look in his eye seemed to say let me perish, and I’m taking you with me. “I’m sure that once you figure out zhe flow of energy und zhe like you’ll be able to heal me as you healed yourself.” Or so Geragon hoped.

The information regarding channeling energy piqued Geragon’s interest, however, and he narrowed his gaze and tilted his head, pressing it forward toward Francis so that his snout was but a few inches from the man’s hands and teacup. “Channel energy through you …how? In vhat vay vould one even attempt such a zhing? Can't you just use some sort of catalyst instead?”

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis could only listen as Ludwig worked out what he had just heard in his own terms and he nodded. It sounded like Ludwig had understood the just of it. Apparently that was one of the perks of talking with a dragon, they seemed to understand things that others might not, or they understood it better than most would. He was satisfied with it, and hoped that he could do good enough to keep this being satisfied as well.

"Regardless, I believe zhat I can agree to zhat sort of deal so long as you are actually try to heal me vhen I need it most.”

"That is correct Sir Dragon. And I would always try to heal you even if it wasn't a part of this deal. Healing to me is a calling.. if something needs healing, I will do my best to return it to health... if the wound is bad, I can at least get the patient out of the critical area, then it might take multiple sessions to heal. It would be better this was as to not exhaust myself, and to let the patients body rest. Trying to heal to fast from grievous wounds can also cause damage, scar tissue that can limit movement or instance. It is best if left to heal on its own or with more natural means, but I will not leave a person half healed. I will care for them throughout the time they are healing and not falter in my goal."

Francis could only hope that that made sense to the dragon as well. He would always explain what he was doing while healing so the patient wouldn't be left in the dark about their care or why things were only half healed at the time. Taking amother sip as he gathered his thoughts, he let the tea sooth his throat and the fermented honey do the same to his nerves. Between that and the easy way the dragon was talking to him, it was easy to let himself relax and keep his cool facade in front of the dragon. He enjoyed this as much as it was nerve wracking; it felt good to talk with someone again about his healing, and hopefully he could keep in good grace with the dragon and be able to enjoy other such conversations.

“Channel energy through you …how? In vhat vay vould one even attempt such a zhing? Can't you just use some sort of catalyst instead?”

Thinking a moment on the question, he took another sip before carefully putting his now empty tea cup on the ground beside the chair. Leaning forward a bit, he shrugged at the question. He knew the answer, least most of it, but he didn't have a full answer or one that the dragon might want to hear.

"People with similar gifts, we can tap into he way that the energy flows and divert it for our own use. It has to be someone that we trust enough to open ourselves to. The last time used channeled energy was before I came here, when I took the lead on helping to heal a human who had a nasty run in with a bull.She laid her hands on my shoulders and as I opened my shields to let energy flow into the patient, I allowed her in as well and she helped to replace the energy I used. We were both tired by the end, but the patient ended up living form what would have been a fatal wound. And a catalyst? I could possibly find something to help store energy in, but it has to be a jewel with no flaws in it. I could also use it to help draw energy from the environment to aid me, but I have not the money nor the contacts to obtain such a jewel. I know I work the best with tiger's eye, but there are not very many good jewels that can be bought that are not flawed in a way that wouldn't be disastrous for me. So for now, its just my own energy unless I can get someone trusted enough to help me with healing."

This was the most he ever had to explain his powers and he hoped that it was satisfactory for the dragon. He could only wait as he processed the information and waited to hear what he said. Until then, he moved his gaze from the dragon to the tree line, enjoying the way the light seemed to break as it left the deeper part of the forest slightly darker than the rest, more welcoming in some ways, more warning to beware as things weren't always what they seemed.

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Geragon merely hummed a bit as the other explained his intentions further. It made a great deal of sense, really, and the way the half-elf explained it, his reasoning seemed much more practical. While it would definitely be preferred to get healed up completely in one session, even Geragon knew that magic always took a bit of time and that it was not a quick fix all the time, nor was it something that should be abused. It took patience and dedication to complete the simplest of spells—so why would healing be much different? Especially if this man’s abilities rested more in the realm of energy exchange and the like. Such a field was always a rather tricky thing to handle.

“I understand,” the dragon offered simply, allowing his head to rest back on his arm while his gaze lingered on Francis. Thankfully, his years on this earth allowed him the knowledge and understanding of such things, so it wasn’t an entirely difficult concept to understand. In fact, it was a rather simple one when explained properly. Equal exchange—that’s all it really was. Energy for energy… health for health. As with anything, it was a method that always required balance—one could not take from an empty bucket to fill another, after all. He was much less talkative than the other, but then again, he wasn’t the one having to explain himself to a creature that could squash you underfoot if it so pleased. Regardless, the dragon listened intently, taking the information to heart. However, he offered a small snort of amusement.

“You do realize zhat you are speaking to a dragon, correct?” he locked eyes with the man, letting that sink in. “If zhere was anyone around here zhat would have a flawless stone of any sort, I assure you, zhat it would have fallen into my possession at one point or anozher.” After all, dragons were creatures that loved gems and had hoards of gold, silver, stones, and fine things. “I can see vhat I have. If it’s somezhing zhat I believe you can vork vizh, I’ll lend it to you so long as you remain my healer. However…,” his voice lowered to a deep growl as his eyes flashed with warning. “…if I catch you selling or bartering vizh such a zhing, I von’t take kindly to zhat, understand?” One should never, ever toy with a possessive dragon’s hoard.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis was glad that the dragon seemed to understand how the healing process worked, though most of it was probably because dragons were magic themselves. He could have let himself smile, though he didn't. He wouldn't smile till it seemed appropriate. But there was one other thing about this that he needed to say, one thing he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

"There is, one other thing. With some things that need healing, it is best to know the anatomy of such things, like bones and the like. .. Do you have a book of dragon anatomy or some way I can learn the structures of the internal organs and how they work? Oh course all this applies to advance healing that you would probably never need. "

“If zhere was anyone around here zhat would have a flawless stone of any sort, I assure you, zhat it would have fallen into my possession at one point or anozher. However…if I catch you selling or bartering vizh such a zhing, I von’t take kindly to zhat, understand?”

He nearly lit up at the fact that he was being offered the use of a stone, if he had one. He never would have asked as that would have been rude and presumptuous of him, and it was best to not offend a dragon in any way possible it would be so much easier for everyone involved, including less stress on himself. Though the look of joy turned to horror with the words of selling the item

"Oh no, I would never sell something that valuable and that useful, especially since it would be a borrowed treasure. No, no. That would be strictly for working and healing, it would have a special spot in my cottage, wrapped with the softest of cloths that I can find. No worries, I would take care of it like the treasure it is.”

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

“Do you have a book of dragon anatomy or some way I can learn the structures of the internal organs and how they work?”

Geragon just stared at the man, allowing a moment of contemplation pass betwixt the both of them. He was no scribe and dragons did not have a written language that they communicated with. That was something more for the bi-pedal beings to bother with… books…were of little use to dragons anyway. They were much too small to read from and few held anything that would be of interest to one of the scaled giants.

“I hate to inform you zhat dragons are not known for zheir literature,” there was a bit of a mild scoff. “Und it is highly improbably zhat any of my kind would allow a human to inspect zhem vhile alive. I have no such book, but I vill tell you all zhat I know.” Otherwise, the man could take it upon himself to discover the facets of draconic anatomy.

The green giant watched his potential companion as a pleased look spread over the half-elf’s features. That look quickly shifted as the other quickly confirmed that he would not take advantage of the dragon’s jewel if it were lent to them. That brought a pleased rumble from Geragon’s throat and as he shifted to stand properly and stretch. “Be still und don’t cry out. I’m not going to harm you.”

That was all the warning the dragon gave to the man before craning his neck and reaching out with one gargantuan hand to snatch the man up in a single motion. Stretching his wings, he took flight. “However, if you breazthe a vord of any of zhis to anyone, I vill eat you.” Geragon stated nonchalantly as he rose into the air, wings beating in rhythm as the treetops shook from the gusts of wind created. His sights turned to his den, the dragon started on his way with the blond clutched in his claws.

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Francis Bonnefoy Deep breaths. He's not going to eat you, but if you wiggle, he might drop you.

[Francis Bonnefoy]

“I hate to inform you zhat dragons are not known for zheir literature. Und it is highly improbably zhat any of my kind would allow a human to inspect zhem vhile alive. I have no such book, but I vill tell you all zhat I know.”

“Merci. It would be much appreciated. And would you let me examine you with my gift too? That way I can get an idea of the bone and muscle structure now while it is whole?”

It was really the best way. And perhaps he could make some sketches to study from for future reference. He knew the anatomy of human and elf, and adding in dragon, he hoped they were similar, just in mostly different positions. Well, the wings would be different, but hopefully they were just extensions on the back bones and muscles and it wasn’t something that would cause him to have to manipulate too much.

“Be still und don’t cry out. I’m not going to harm you.”

A bit confused at those words, he quickly found out as the claw was wrapped around his middle and he was suddenly airborne with the dragon. He broke his cool and stifled a shriek as he tried to cling as well to the hand as he could. Honestly, he was terrified of heights. His elfin relatives might live high in the trees, but he had never done as such. He had always been a ground bound elf and that’s how he had always thought of staying. So for now, he closed his eyes and held on as tight as he could, not moving much except to try to breath. He didn’t want to be dropped, and he didn’t want to pass out either, so he could only hope this was amusing the dragon more than anything.

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Ludwig Beilschmidt