Celia stared at the short and familiar almost man shaped thing. Unsure as to whether she should be surprised to find him here, upset that he was here, or kick him for once. The gremlin, even more so than Haet, was a - or at least a former - foe. Only she could remember the feeling of his foot breaking a rib with exacting detail. Could still smell the taste of his breath as he tried to figure out why she could talk. She saw the explosive proof of his power.
But none of that, in the grand scheme of things, mattered now. This was a chance to start a new leaf. Like she was considering doing with Haet. The beyond seemed to be built on violence after all, besides wouldn’t she have done the same thing in his place?
The answer was no. No she wouldn’t have. And she knew that. But she also didn’t want to start a fight, or much of anything, and she was already beginning to forgive Haet anyway. Even if it was only because he was very good at bribery. Besides, it was probably in her best interest for the time being.
So, despite how she felt about it, Celia turned her gaze elsewhere and gave the dragon made ship a quick once over.
Noting the sheer scale of it once again. Enormous ribs hanging overhead, forming both the roof and the walls. A chasm of space between her and there, petrified flesh a covering from the world beyond. Giving every sound, from the smallest step to the cry of bickering in the far back, an echo. The totality of the space easy to lose herself in. Brain trying and failing to catalogue every inch of the dragon’s leviathan like insides.
And then he was there. Short, a black hood draped over him, eyes staring right up at her with something pretending to be a smile at his lips.
Celia reacted on instinct. A lash from her shoulder tentacle cutting through the air. Snaking out and toward the imp of a being in front of her, tip only an inch away from his face when he moved. Falling out of the way, little legs coming towards hers in a sweeping kick. The force sure to hit like a mountain. But Celia was ready. Girded in steelstuff and hunger, iron teeth erupting from her skin as she shifted. Bracing herself for impact. The blissful burn of want erupting inside of her, the furnace of her transformation.
And a second before impact, there was a third.
Haet interjecting one of his whip sting tail legs in between them. Imp kick bouncing off hardened carapace, destructive hip check stopped at the wall of his might. And then his claws were on them, pulling them up and away, towards his face where he glowered at the both of them. Like a parent met with a disappointing pair of children.
"No fight. Friends now, yes?"
The imp nodded. Eyes still burning daggers her way, framed with violence and curiosity in equal measure.
"Yes, friends we. You boss, and boss is right. Right, new friend?"
Celia couldn’t help but glare. Couldn’t help but wish to see him at her feet. Something feral and enraged inside of her scorning his very existence. But for now, she bid it to be still.
"Yes." She relented, reluctantly. "If by friends you mean that we both leave each other alone, then yeah we can be friends."
And Haet shook her for that. An up and down motion that had her less "firm" bits jiggling long after he had stopped. Stopped and hit her with another intense glare that should’ve made her wilt. Made her instincts cow in submission to the clear display of greater strength and capability. Instead she only bristled, like a cat defiant of the hand that fed it.
He didn’t shake her again.
"Have spirit. Good. But spirit tempered by wisdom better. Have wisdom or find out what bad crew get."
He sat them down after that. Gave them a moment to settle before gesturing toward the imp and then back at her.
"Dreg, meet new crew. New crew, name?"
"… Celia." She said, name leaving her lips like poison as she glared at the aptly named Dreg.
And he glared right back.
Haet ignored the clear animosity on display with a nod that couldn’t come across as anything but cheerful. Claws swinging wide to gesture toward them both.
"Dreg, Celia. Weak friends, good crew. No fight or get claw. Dreg, go man wings, Haet not done with Celia tour."
Dreg didn’t argue. Simply offered a bow at the waist and walked off. Walk turning into a sprint before long, and then he was gone. Outside and presumably off to do as he was told. Which left Celia alone with Haet, who was staring at her. Claws perched on his sides.
"You one Dreg talk about? Cave fiend who cut? Hm, don’t worry bout Dreg, Haet handle. And if trouble find, call Haet. Now come."
Celia did. Following behind him as he showed off the rest of the dragon's insides. From rooms made of bone to red organs that powered the half dead beast like a series of massive batteries. But Celia’s favorite part of the tour was when they reached the stomach where food was both stored and served.
She couldn’t pass it without helping herself to just a few snacks. Well, a few by her standards anyway. But based on the way Haet and a few other crew members were looking at her, her standards may have been a bit… extreme.
Which she found a bit more surprising than she probably should’ve. The existence of classifications obviously implied there were other types of beyondlings, of which she was one of now, and based off what she had seen so far, very few were Feastlings like her. And somehow that just made her hungrier, which she immediately chalked up to stress induced hunger.
Though, she had a feeling that it wasn’t that.
Either way, food and the nature of her being was partially on her mind when Haet had finished giving her a tour of the ship/corpse. Bringing them back again to the front, where he clasped his claws together and beamed down at her, like a child awaiting praise. Which would’ve been cute if he didn’t have a scorpion face and wasn’t built like a hulking specimen of alien biology that could rip a person apart with criminal ease.
"Beautiful, no?" He asked, a claw aimed out at all the ship. Everything about his posture suggesting that he expected an answer in the affirmative.
Celia didn’t disappoint him.
"It is." She said. And she meant it. There was simply something about the giant corpse turned vessel that carried a mythical quality to it. As if she was riding within the bowels of some great artifact from one of the old tales her father used to tell. Almost like she was part of a story herself. One that was only just begi-
[Seldom seen, Seldom heard] has placed his eye upon you.