"That thing's as big as a cart," Pull-Down-Heaven says, chewing on a toothpick.
"You think Zincodemus is okay?" Dan-Bagh asks.
The dragon fledgeling stretches, rolling its head against the rough floor of the abandoned mine until it's peering at them upside-down, claws glittering as its extended forefoot flexes. It licks its own nose with a long tongue, and purrs.
"Biiiiig stretch," Harris says, absently cheerful, across the chamber and already rummaging through their supplies. "Zinky's fine!" ey add. "Practically indestructible, compared to flesh! You really wouldn't think installing a life inside an elvenoid war-engine would work so well."
The dragon wriggles, making itself comfortable against the determined squirm of something underneath it.
"Why do you think it went straight for him like that?" Dan-Bagh shifts guiltily, thumbs tucked into his sword belt, making absolutely no move to attempt to help.
"Runs warm, doesn't he?" Harris says. "Ah, there we are," and produces a ball-peen hammer. "Cuddly, like."
"He's an animated siege machine!" Dan-Bagh says. "Eight feet of plate armour stuffed with military golemics! Cuddly?"
"That thing's as big as a cart," Pull-Down-Heaven repeats.
A determined metal hand shoves its way out from under the dragon's bulk, and the dragon delightedly bats at it, then rolls over so it vanishes out of sight underneath it again with a muffled clang.
"We're gonna be here all day," Dan-Bagh says.
