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Crinyx's fortress of choice was, perhaps ironically, a little too much sunshine for Solalon, what with his natural preference for the mists of Vereheq. But the rocks here are often bleached by sunlight and the vegetation is sparse at best, making for a rather all-encompassing brightness outside.
Inside is a different matter, of course. Strategic scratchmarks placed against the horizontally stretched passages' ceiling guide the way. It's a system that's borderline intuitive for the Legendaries, though Crinyx has still communicated as much to his fellow Council members, should they want to pay him a visit - and it leads directly into the heart of the Isle, darker shades and all, sound of the ocean beyond the island's perimeter warped to a sound like a gurgling, whistling, barely audible wind, a background hint of a drone that's wholly perceptible to Solalon, used to the silence to Vereheq as he is.
The dragon's proverbial lair is… full of carved bones. There's nothing crude about it - the detail is quite astonishing, even if the shapes formed are purely abstract, delicate helices and faux knots in the figurines, arranged deliberately and decoratively. Crinyx seems to be napping right now, bundled atop what looks like a rug he must have stolen off some human at some point - seeing as it was vanishingly unlikely he'd chosen to lie upon something that represented a flayed pokémon, guaranteeing it an entirely artificial construction. In his slumber, his teeth are locked around one end of an unblemished femur, arms wrapped around it, and like an infant gnawing on a plushie in its sleep, is predictably drooling ever so slightly on his otherwise so fancy setup.
The journey to Corral Isle grants somewhat less ability to think than Solalon would have liked, simply because it's a trip he makes infrequently enough that it demands some amount of constant focus from him. Still, he has some time to consider the various ways he could approach the topic, enough to settle on one that he thinks there's a chance Crinyx might come to accept. As long as he makes it clear that nothing is actually changing aside from that Dakarai will be doing something other than occupying a room indefinitely, there's a good chance things will go smoothly here.
It's hard for him to see how Crinyx stands this place. The outside is far too bright, and the inside is filled with the distant sound of the sea muted to a drone just barely loud enough to be audible and mildly distracting. The first is presumably just a difference of tastes, but the second he'd have to learn to tune out or go insane. At least navigating the interior isn't difficult, and soon enough Solalon finds himself in the central lair. Looks like his collection of carved bones is coming along well, and… oh lovely, he fell asleep gnawing on a human femur. Yeah, this isn't going to end well at all, is it.
A slow, soft sigh spills from Solalon. Might as well get this over with. He approaches his fellow Legendary, pausing a few steps away and lowering his head. ~Hello, Crinyx,~ he greets quietly.
The Legendary stirs quite slowly, suggesting that the sounds from Solalon don't register as potential danger to the Blood-type despite the intrusion into the dark crimson Legendary's sleep. Eyes slowly open and the metallic plume rattles lightly as the maw reluctantly dislodges from its prize and a groggy muzzle rises to look for the source of the sound.
And then he spots Solalon. The first instinct is to react as past Council sessions have conditioned him to - with a distinct 'oh shit' and a cower away from the Light-type. That is quick to pass, though, and is instead replaced by an emotion spawned more by his rational mind - that of friendship and safety. Mildly self-consciously, he licks some slobber off the femur as if in retrospective apology for his drool, and nods across at Solalon in a minimalist but respectful motion. ~Welcome, brother,~ Crinyx greets him. ~What humble service may I be to you?~
A hint of unease worms its way into Solalon's features at Crinyx's question, but a light shake of his neck manages to dispel it quickly. ~I apologize for interrupting your rest,~ he says, bowing his head respectfully. ~I came to discuss a decision with you that the Arbiter and I recently agreed to,~ he states, tone purely informative. A tense pause later, he adds, almost tentatively: ~…regarding Dakarai.~
Crinyx regards Solalon in some incredulous mixture of incomprehension and mild but good-natured confusion. The human's name, repulsive as he was, hardly was cause for irritation. For all he knew they'd gone back on their ridiculous decision to let the sociopath live. For a moment, he simply waits, before deciding it would do better with a prompt. ~What about him?~ he asks, evidently without a preconception.
~Jagdish believes that it would be better to put Dakarai to some use rather than having him simply occupy a cell in Taqnateh,~ the light-type responds solemnly. ~In particular, he's going to act as something of an observer for humans on the gym circuit, in order to gather additional information.~
Crinyx' reaction, at first, is not one of rage at all. Instead, he looks at Solalon in a certain stupor, then with the raptorian equivalent of a light, nervous smile, remarks: ~Forgive me, brother, I can't altogether tell whether you're serious. That strikes me as… foolhardy, to say the least, and I cannot in good conscience ascribe such a thing to you - or the Arbiter, as it were.~
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