Meeting Dracasis
Ramah paced around his cave, a towel around his waist and a thought on his mind. He was already clean, he made sure of that. Even so, he furrowed his brows as he stopped and looked over at a polished mirror he had taken from his hoard in back. His reflection betrayed his yellow scale color, tinged with purple spikes along the spine of his back and tail. The contrasting secondary color also made home around his head and wings, where a bit of purple shown through in the skin membranes and a bit of scale-fur well cared for on his jaw and wing joints. For a moment, he traced his single horn, the only metallic part of his whole body.
He was never granted any criticism for his looks, of which he was fit and moderately muscular thanks to his surroundings and equipment. Never was there a passing argument over his personality, kindness and charity kept in his family traditions. He glared a bit longer in the mirror before turning around and moving to the back of his home, grabbing a pair of red-brown leather pants on his way past his runic writing desk.
"Why, WHY does this happen to me every time I wish to meet someone?" complained the dragon. A bit of electricity carried on his breath as he breathed out a sigh. At the back of his home, his moderate living shown in his practical furniture, everything having a two-fold purpose. The slightly frustrated dragon looked over his current favorite outfit on an armor rack, a set of combination plates and leather armor for the best of mobility and protection. He had it finished in earth tones of brown, green and a bit of ash grey to help hide the bright color of his own body, though the leather of which his pants were a part of were colored red-brown for its own purpose of keeping blood less visible should he be wounded. He grabbed the leather shirt to throw on over his head and wings (though it was always a pain to put on and take off) and moved to the plates for his wings.
"Hello Sir... Good day, Ma'am... Ah, me." He looked over the buckles of the different pieces that locked together before grabbing them one by one to put on his wings as he mumbled to himself. "How do you address one such as shi?" The little buckles slipped through small piercings in his wing membrane, likely made when he received the armor. "On that course, how do you address one you have shadowed for so long, yet never spoken a word in greeting? Especially of hir accomplishments."
Once finished with his wings, he moved on to his torso and shoulder plates, the metallic shine mulled over to a matte color to keep his armor more easily maintained. One hand rubbed the left side of the breastplate, where his own heart stood protected when worn. "Besides, I am a mere five feet and seven inches compared to her majestic fifteen, and that is solely her height. Shall I use my magics to improve my stature, or would it be best to go as my own more 'lowly' self?" He hefted the armor and started his buckling, of which there was only some difficulty without help to take care of.
"Nay, it would likely be best not to lie to my own kinship, though it be in spirit more than blood." His gloves and boots were next, which were an easy metal and leather combination, the metal bands at the edges clamped to hold tight when pulled closed. Once finished, he eyed the stand next to where his armor used to be, a spear and shield with his family crest and professional duty of protection. He shook his head at the thought of wearing either on this trip. "It would be far from reason to bring more than my more decorative pieces along, lest I spark the wrath of another. Mayhap another time."
With one more electrically charged sigh, he turned and made for his exit, intent on making his first impression the best he could. But, knowing his own feelings, he knew his first and most notable mistake: nervousness in the face of new judgment. As he passed his desk one last time, he quickly wrote with feather and ink on a white stock before leaving out of his cave, sticking it on a wooden sign-holder. The words in black stated, "Guardianship of Ramah Stormset, trespassers best carry a sword in hand and prayers on breath." With that, the dragon muttered a few words as his cave entrance disappeared from sight and went on his way to meet what could be a new friend.