High up on the mountainside was a jagged crevice where part of the mountain side had shifted slowly over time away from the rest of the stone. There was little vegetation outside the entrance. It was mostly loose stones that had tumbled down when the stone shifted. Inside this opening was a hollow leading further back into the mountain itself. Upon entering the cave one would see a figure standing just to the right. A full sized statue was recessed back into the wall. She was made of what looked like white marble. The surface of the statue was not worn by the elements at all but was still perfectly smooth. As if it was perhaps a new addition. The dust settled about it spoke differently. A thin layer lay about most of the entrance. No one seemed to have been this way in a long time. There were the remains of some flowers, now nothing more then a brown dried bundle of twigs and a ceramic bowl on the ground that may have once held some sort of liquid. Now it held a decent layer of dust and most of an abandoned cobweb.

The statue was a woman. She was standing easily where she was even though she was half inside the stone behind her. Her arms were relaxed by her sides and her eyes were closed. Her expression was calm and serene. Outside the wind whistled across the stones and raced down the mountain top toward the forest. The weather seemed to be trying to decide if it should change as dark clouds began to gather overhead.

It would be a strange thing to think of a dragon as out gathering berries. And that is not what you see. After all, Issachius wasn't here for berries. Grapes are an entirely different matter. Mountain grapes from this region, yielded a very nice table wine that went well with many of his desert dishes. The wine would still have to age of course, but patience was a virtue of his.

Curiosity was an occasional vice.

Occasional, only in the sense that as often as he indulged his curiosity it had seldom yet gotten him into trouble. Otherwise, he had as bad a case of the "shineys" as any self respecting dragon (if not more). As many times as he'd been to this aerie he hadn't seen this particular cave. Naturally he wandered in. There was still plenty of time to find those grapes. A storm seemed to be gathering, and he was loathe to leave, having traveled some distance to get here. The inn could take care of itself for a couple of days if need be.

As far as dragons went, and he had met plenty, he was fairly small for his age - about the size of a large horse. Once he entered the main cavern, he assumed this form with plenty of room to spare. The statue caught his attention immediately. Who was it? Who sculpted it? Could I get this back to the inn? These and a few others quickly came to mind (Though not necessarily in that order) while he rested, wings folded and simply admired the artwork, and beauty of the figure.

The weather outside took a drastic turn for the worse. The lightning flashed accross the sky. Moments later a resounding boom echoed through the mountain range. Another flash of lighting and its thunder followed long before the rain actually started falling outside.

Deep inside the stones of the mountain, a thought stirred in a sleeping mind. Slowly memories came together, old memories. A bard. His music and voice like none ever heard before. The urge to move, to dance. Joy. Then were the warning, from beings who called themselves elves. 'Don't fall in love with a human. It will only bring you pain.'

Try as she might though, she couldn't heed those words. She loved that dear human bard and his songs were so well known! Surly he could never die. So, she fell in love. She stayed with him as he grew older and older. He watched him become weak and frail while she remained the same. Then, he died and she felt a sorrow she didn't know what to do with. The elves had been right. Even with the moments of joy she knew so much pain.

She then retreated to her birth place and fell asleep. She fell into a very deep sleep. For a mountain time was a little thing. Years passed like days. Days as seconds. What was had stretched away from her and the wounds had healed over. Sealed once more in stone, she had become whole once more. She didn't have any reason to join the world beyond the mountain. Nothing called her forth. Not even the sweet music that brought her forth before would do. She wouldn't fall for such a little trick again.

"Well, at the least, I can keep this wonderful Lady company through the storm" Issachius thought as he settled in to weather out the storm. Pulling out his wineskin from... (OOC: Okay, Quite frankly I can't figgure where a dragon, even a horse sized one, would carry a wineskin, but then I'm sure he'd figgure out how anyway. More on that later if needed) somewhere and pours himself a glass. He is sitting down on his haunches before the statue, and raises a toast to it. "Here's to you, My Lady" Almost possessively he admires the beauty of the form, and the taste of the wine (Istan White - A humble, yet soft wine, admired for it's simple taste and cooling, liquid presence).

Silently he finished that and another glass, then stowing the precious goblet with his wineskin, he settled down to rest. His Lady, a silent sentinel over his sleeping form, he curls up and around him. With an oof of any couple adjusting sleeping arrangements (Not that they were a couple - she was a statue after all - and they had just met) he saves himself from a crime against art and catches the Lady, after his tail upsets the base.

Deep inside the mountain the memories sank deep and far away as time seemed to stretch out in all directions. She felt the distance between her and what was growing further with each moment. The world itself seemed to become still and silent. It was just her in the stone, forever like this with her sibling all about. Everything was perfectly still.

Then she felt herself falling. The world shifted suddenly in some strange direction as the mountain seemed to move around her. Time seemed to tip on it's side. Falling... falling into the darkness... then she felt something catch her. Something very much different then stone. She knew this feeling. She felt a body around herself again. Something so very different then the safe embrace of her own mountain. She felt her breath returning in a gasp. What ever it was, it had startled her awake. She was very much surprised by this.

Her eyes flew open and she found herself looking at a dragon. The surprise at this was plan as day upon her face. A dragon? Here? Why would a dragon have found her here? What was he doing here and... why was he holding on to her like this? She was able to recover enough to use that breath she had just taken. "Good day sir. Would you mind setting me down?" Her tone was not harsh in any way, but had a distinct otherworldly air to it and bordered on musical.

(OOC: I'm sorry it's so short.)

Dragons, as a whole, are a proud race. Rightly so, at least according to them, and as such are not to be found in certain circumstances. For example, their vast knowledge and moreover, their experience of the world makes them difficult to confuse. Having also a natural command of language, they will not be found without a word to say, or more nearer to the truth, they won't sputter over words. Least of all, their grace and agility belies their often cumbrous size and even in the event of the preceding eventualities, a dragon is always graceful.

And no one has ever surprised a dragon.

What happens next, Issachius would never admit to. Indeed, would instead set up the strongest denials against the fact. Yet it remains, known if only to himself, the truth of the matter.

Issachius was quite surprised! But then, a statue that quickly bears out a mien of life is often a bit suprising. Clumsily he dropped the statue, leaping backward as he did so, and almost falling onto the rear wall. Wh-, wh-, Wha-? Who? What are you? How did you get? there? Whattheheavens? Issachius shakes his head rapidly to clear himself and to try and reassert the situation to himself. Here, Issachius could only stand, mouth agape. A wordless, yet articulate Huh was the best he could do at this point.

Some few moments after this event (Which never happened, according to Issachius) Issachius seems to regain his composure.

The dragon himself looked about as surprised as she was by it. Perhaps more so because he may not know what she was. Either way, she found the floor of the cave rapidly approaching because he basically dropped her in his shock. She heard him attempting to speak, but it was as if she had managed to derail him.

Ivory landed with an oof and her legs gave under her so she landed mostly in a lump. She had not been moving for who knew how long and she hadn't even gotten the chance to get her feet under her properly. Well, at least he wasn't the only one out of sorts. She at least, had had this happen before. She pushed herself up carefully. She could feel the muscles as they remembered how to move. Some of them did an odd flickering twitch before moving smoothly. She carefully got her feet beneath herself and rose to her feet. She then dusted herself off. The action sending up a little more dust then she had expected it too. She waved the dust away and straightened her clothing before looking up at the dragon. She smiled as friendly as she could and offered her hand to him, palm slightly up.

"Hello and good day sir. I am Ivory, Oread of this very mountain. May I inquire about your own name and your reason for this visit?"

Outside, the thunder had silenced for the most part. The rain coming down in thick and heavy drops. The entire mountain side was getting completely soaked,

"Ehm, ah, yes... Well.. Oh. Oriad? Yes. Ah. Er, well then. Ahem. Issachius yes, ehm. Issachius is my name." He had drawn himself into a sitting position, weight on his back legs, and neck curved to keep from hitting a pesky stalactite. Taking the offered hand, he pulls her up to a standing position.

"As to why I am here, well, I am a an epicure in wines, and other delicacies. I had alighted on this aerie because of the wonderful mountain grapes to be found here. Harvested, Aged, and pressed, the make a superior table wine. Wet and yet not overly so, it mates splendidly with many of my inn's dishes. I stared some rows here decades ago, and as I seem to be the only wine-maker who knows of them, it's been a steady, and welcome, source of supply. To be sure, I use only the most careful of cultivation methods, and the grapes impinge little on the natural flora and fauna of this highland. Though it hardly seems the place for good grapes, I cultivated the starts from some of my hardiest takings, and... Issachius begins to babble for a few minutes on his favorite topic. Apparently to regain some of his composure.

"But I am remiss. I apologize, I do rather go on.. Please, er, who are you? Ladies coming forth from statues are in the rarity. He didn't mention that he was considering "hoarding" the statue somewhere. But then, for his grapes, he'd likely have left the muse in place.

Ivory felt better once she was soundly standing again. The dragon himself still seemed a little out of sorts with the situation. He was doing a charming job of recovering on the other hand. She let him talk and felt herself smiling.

Imagine grapes that took on the flavor of the mountain. Did that mean that the grapes would taste like her? Flora and fauna on this mountain were things she had an intament relationship with. They did in fact live not only on her, but became part of her.

“The statue was just a shell, from the last time I left this mountain. I am an Oread, the living spirit of this mountain. I was not using this body, the statue, and have not used it in some time. When it was shifted just a moment ago, the movement caused me to take it up again. I don't mind though. I do wonder how long I have been asleep. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to find that out.” She smiled and found a bolder to perch upon. She settled her skirts about her. “So, do you have a place that you keep these wines of yours? And a name perhaps?”

"A name? My own is Issachius as I said, and I run and manage The Oasis inn in the city of Istan. As for my treasures, well, it is best to keep wines at a cool temperature, and ordinarily a desert city would hardly be the place, but I have constructed a deep cellar beneath the sands to house the fruits of my work as it were.

Issachius wasn't quite sure why, or when, he'd decided to expound on his past with this creature. This was usually a tight topic with him - having a dragon for a neighbor was often unsettling, and he'd been forced to leave a few places because of it. This one, however, had caught him unaware, and there was little else he could do. Besides, she seemed to be a creature of remarkable heritage too, and would likely understand his dilema. Added to that, she might well be the patroness, as it were, of the grapes he grew here and it would be the height of disrespect not to indulge her.

"In an age and a land far gone and long ago, I acted as the steward of a king's court. Though largely unregarded, I had the king's ear and counsel when I should want it, and he had mine. He and a few others knew who and what I was, and some even regarded me as a last defense for the king. I was no fighter however, and to my shame, king and country were laid to siege over time, thus in the way of kings. It was a cool, temperate kingdom, and here did I learn the craft of the vine. Yet, instead of for a land lost to the invading hordes, I left it to it's end and carried it's gifts to bear fruit in another land. I had learned all their skill at wine making, cultivation, etc. While I could do nothing for a land lost to war and time, their heritage lives yet on. The wines I took with me became my treasured reminder of what was lost.

"Though, I like to think I did well by their teaching, and may have bettered their best with my work. They were a long-lived people, and had the proper perspective for cultivation - letting nature make it's own work with the vine. Issachius shifts to his Innkeeper form briefly and back Thus I am and came to be still a steward and keeper of a heritage. He takes a deep neck-bow, having now regained composure and dignity.

She had meant the name of the place where he kept his wines. A simple misunderstanding. She would just have to make sure she was clear about that. He did tell her the name of the place though. At lease she wouldn’t have to correct him. She didn’t like correcting others as it was. It was not part of her nature. She found herself smiling none the less. A dragon of the vine. Such a charming concept! Done well it was a wonderful treasure indeed! None of the violence of the more fearful dragons. No need to jealously hide your treasures from fear of theft or even attempted theft. Most didn’t see wine as anything worth stealing. Many a hooligan saw no true worth in the cultivation of vines. It was something reserved in its value for those who had the leisure to buy it and the love of it to cultivate it. Wine was no doubt a long term pursuit.

“Such a wonderful way to commemorate such a time now gone.” She replied with a smile. “My own love is music. Not the playing of it myself, though I do know a few bits of lovely tunes, but of dance. I’m sure I have lost much of the skill though in my sleep and I will have to regain it. My art, as it were, is in healing. I draw the power for it from the great mother herself, the same that bore this mountain into existence.” She spread her arms wide to include not just the cave they were in with the rain petering away outside but all of what she knew of as herself. “I may not be able to aid those with shorter lives against the ravages of time, but I can ease pains caused by other things and make their time hear a joyful thing.”

**Sorry for the delay**

Issachius nods to her with deference. "It occurs to me, that in some way I have you to thank for the health of the grapes I have tried to cultivate on this land. They make a good table wine, going nicely with some of my deserts and other flavorful dishes, if I may indulge you? I must still gather the grapes I came for, and the storm may last through the night. I had planned to night here, gather in the morning, and return to my inn by the eve."

Issachius points vaguely to the south. "Some way to the south is the Istan desert, in the vale of the Dragonspine mountains. Sadly not as lush as, er, yourself...?, but they have a wonderful glacial wine I've been trying to acquire for some time. Issachius considers things a little. Olren, the inkeeper, might wonder at him bringing a lady home with him, but no matter there. He'd hate to leave her alone, but then this was her place to begin with. Well, the invitation was given, and he'd just have to see. Could she leave?

"Well, that's enough of me I suppose. And you? We've enough of an evening, if you don't mind my lodging the night, and I am eager to know of my patroness