Eventyr is shaping up to be more than Natsu expected, which
is something, considering he already expected the world of the school. It’s the
same one his adoptive father, Igneel, went to back he was Natsu’s age. The man
graduated with high honors, joining the Flight Corps on his twentieth birthday
with his dragon, a Deluce Dolgum named Ignis—a name Natsu would forever give
his father grief for choosing, both because of the similarities to Ignel’s own
name, but also because of how cliché it is to name a dragon fire. Igneel and Ignis rose high in the
ranks quickly, gaining the rank of Major General by the time Natsu was ten.
Natsu worries about him, all the time, if he’s being honest.
Igneel is stationed at Ford Maverick in the north, fighting against the Frost
Giants threatening to invade. Truthfully, Natsu is just relieved his father is
fighting in the north, rather than the border against Deluce in the east. Jotunn
are strong, hard to take down in a fight, but they aren’t the dragon tamers of
the Deluce Empire. Jotunn have clubs, they’re slow and rarely attack in large
quantities. They don’t have claws and teeth and fire so hot it melts even the strongest steel.
At the Deluce border, people don’t come back, not whole.
They lose pieces of themselves fighting in the mountains, in the miles and
miles of open space known as the Boneyard that separates the warring countries.
When people get lost there, they don’t come back out. He’s stories about the
Boneyard, about people who lose limbs, people who lose bits of their minds to
the explosions and dragon fangs.
He shakes the thoughts away, glancing up at the sky in the
gardens, peering at the deep blue through the wispy vines of wisteria, the
shades of purple nearly blocking his vision entirely. Natsu snorts, reaching up
to thumb at a flower dangling close to his face. He plucks at it, pulling at
the vine and smiling when it snaps back up when he releases. It bobs in his
face for several seconds, falling still once again, though the vines begin to
ruffle in the light breeze sweeping through.
Breathing deeply, Natsu allows his eyes to slip shut,
enjoying the wind and the sweet scent swirling around him. He’s finding that he
likes it here, it’s nice—quiet, but in a good way. Natsu always has likes
noise, growing up in one of the more populace cities in the western part of
Ishgar, a port city in the Fiore territory.
The beautifully trained climbers, including Vitis (vine), Wisteria, Lonicera (honeysuckle) and Hydrangea, on the Harold Peto designed pergola at the gardens of West Dean, Sussex. This Edwardian feature stretches for 100 metres and includes a pool, steps and at the west end a gazebo with a floor of knapped flints and horse molars.