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Avetlarinyarenesaar... Is currently trying to force herself to walk another few steps. She hasn't managed it, yet. Her reason for stopping was perfectly ordinary - check the address, make sure it was correct, be sure she was in the right place. She'd been quite sure, but there wasn't any downside to double checking, so she double checked. And triple checked. She stopped herself from quadruple checking, but she wanted to anyway. To - be sure that she was right. Yes. Not because she was procrastinating, or nervous, or thinking what am I going to say? She wanted to be sure that she was right.
Well. She's right. She checked three times, there's no doubt to it.
"Look," she mutters to herself, "I get it, it's scary, but deal. You are not allowed to - to -" To what? Go home? Maybe try to work up the courage later? Maybe try and avoid the shren house like so many other dragons?
It was a door. It's idiotic to be afraid of a door. Sure, there were shrens on the other side of it, but there could conceivably be shrens on the other side of lots of doors, some of them were in hiding, hair dye existed. Subtle colors existed. She could have been near shrens any number of times.
That - did not actually make her fear go away. Instead it makes her want to curl up in her little apartment and not go outside again.
Great. Okay. Stop that train of thought, it's not useful. If she stands here any longer, people are going to stare. (Is that person over there staring? Probably. Damn.) Just - door. Go. Walk.
She forces herself to walk to the door, somewhat stiffly. And then she is at the door. ... Does she knock? Does she just open it and go in? She has no idea. It's customary to knock, so... She takes a deep breath and does so. Resisting the urge to flee and teleport away (or scamper into the bushes) isn't easy, but she manages it.
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"Well, yes, but I mean - in other species, they don't do that. Fairies and merfolk have high infant death rates, and while they have a lot of them at a time, you'd still think that there would be some change with dragons."
"I'm not sure I follow. We don't have nearly as many children as the average fairy, even particularly unlucky families."
"No, I - yes we don't have as many children as the average fairy. But populations do a thing where they snowball. One family has three kids that survive and those three kids manage to have five between them and so on and so on. I don't know. Maybe I'm hilariously wrong about how it works, it's not like I'm an expert on the subject."
"Well, the dragon population has held pretty steady."
"Even with - have there been any - I don't know, dragon plagues? Dips in the population due to extremely inclement weather or large flaming scoot accidents or angry people with pointy sticks or something?"
"Well, that plague that left all the vampires so religious got some of us in natural form, and when south flu appeared back in lost Egeria likewise it didn't go well for dragons who caught it natural-formed, but we bounced back soon enough."
"Hm?"
"If it were a natural plateau, due to what percentage of baby dragons die, it wouldn't - we wouldn't bounce back quickly. If we bounced back at all it would take a while."
"I can look up hatching and survival rates from one or both of those periods if you like?"
Thyell goes and looks things up.
"The blood plague was a factor in the death rate for... four years, and then between its decline and our better safety precautions it stopped killing substantial numbers of dragons. In the second half of that period infant mortality dropped pretty sharply, and then returned to its normal rate over the next ten years."
"The blood plague was a factor in the death rate for... four years, and then between its decline and our better safety precautions it stopped killing substantial numbers of dragons. In the second half of that period infant mortality dropped pretty sharply, and then returned to its normal rate over the next ten years."
Avet wants to ask Thyell why the hell nobody noticed this sooner. She doesn't do that thing.
"So. It's not the survival rates. Those - we stay at a stable population, they change based on how many dragons are kicking around. So we have the same population."
"So. It's not the survival rates. Those - we stay at a stable population, they change based on how many dragons are kicking around. So we have the same population."
"It's not exactly the same. It can vary by a few hundred millennium to millennium."
"... During the times that there were less dragons, were there more uniques and unusuals?"
"Not substantially. The most uniques at once on record was twelve and that was during a fairly average-population time. I'd have to go through and do a lot of math to check if there's a small effect."
"Hmm. I suspect babies dying has something to do with dragon magic, and I think that there is a limited amount of it."
She turns, and walks, mostly ignore Thyell now. "If those things are true, what are my repositories for dragon magic? Dragons. Uniques. Unusuals, thudias, parunias... shrens."
She spins to look at Thyell again. "Do you have records of thudias and shrens, too? Their population?"
She turns, and walks, mostly ignore Thyell now. "If those things are true, what are my repositories for dragon magic? Dragons. Uniques. Unusuals, thudias, parunias... shrens."
She spins to look at Thyell again. "Do you have records of thudias and shrens, too? Their population?"
Thyell shudders delicately. "Thudias, yes. Sometimes people report on their shrens but we don't require anyone to talk about it so those numbers will be incomplete and their incompleteness will vary with the other mores of the time."
Avet wants to hit Thyell. Suck it up, wuss, trying to save baby dragons, here. Shudder in horror at shrens on your own time, right now you're Avet's minion. Minions are not allowed to shudder in horror.
"Okay," she says. "So. If it's dragon magic that's causing all of this, which, admittedly it might not be... shrens are a factor, they have dragon magic too."
"Okay," she says. "So. If it's dragon magic that's causing all of this, which, admittedly it might not be... shrens are a factor, they have dragon magic too."
"Is there anything else you need a dragon genealogist's help with?" asks Thyell, testy.
She looks at Thyell. She contemplates screeching her opinions, about how when people are dying, especially children, you put aside your emotions and you fix the fucking problem. About how she's not the enemy here for trying to understand a situation in its entirety. She muses on thoughts as to why no one has made progress before, of course they haven't. Shrens are scary. This is the way things are, always have been, and always will be. The Dragon Council has it covered. She considers gathering up all evidence she has that it is not covered and throwing it in this woman's face.
"... No, thank you," she says, instead. "I'm sorry for bothering you. You've been a great help. Have a lovely day."
"... No, thank you," she says, instead. "I'm sorry for bothering you. You've been a great help. Have a lovely day."
"Best of luck with your project," says Thyell mildly.
"Thank you," she says, not quite managing to make it out of icy, but the effort's there.
She doesn't want to be on Dragon Island anymore. It's probably better to stay, she bets they have some records of shrens here, but she can't stay. She'll end up shouting at someone. Time to go.
She teleports to the shren house in Esmaar, and storms to the door, and knocks.
She doesn't want to be on Dragon Island anymore. It's probably better to stay, she bets they have some records of shrens here, but she can't stay. She'll end up shouting at someone. Time to go.
She teleports to the shren house in Esmaar, and storms to the door, and knocks.
Jensal answers it.
Avet is pissed. Not at Jensal, but definitely pissed.
"I'm sorry to bother you again," she says, sincerely, despite that. "Do you have records on the number of living shrens? Please?"
"I'm sorry to bother you again," she says, sincerely, despite that. "Do you have records on the number of living shrens? Please?"