Though he was born on Zekira, and traveled on the generation ship which was created for the Immortals to use, Pharoah was all but invisible on the ship. He would rather remain anonymous in situations requiring social skill, even though he's brave enough to fight natural terrors found on any planet.

He knows too much. Perhaps, he knows too much about everyone around him. Because he can soak information up just by sleeping and dreaming, Pharoah has quite a collection of secrets and knowledge. Who accidentally sired whom, which ghosts haunt who else. Who's killed, who's run away. What he does with this information is no one's business - unless they make it so.

Not everyone is susceptable to his powers of course. But... nearly everyone on board the ship is part of his extended family tree, with very few exceptions. For a while it looked like some of the Breeders were trying to actually breed someone who wasn't part of it - as he's not the only one on board with such a weird power over his genetic relations. When he turns on his control of another? It's like they're a puppet and he's their master. It's not entirely unpleasant, because he rarely misuses this ability. But still, it tends to create a bit of tension and harbors some anger towards anyone who does such things.

It's the hate he can't stand. Since the Zekirans were already used to oddities of body and color, the only time he's ever been arbitrarily feared or hated for his appearance was when they were trying to colonize other worlds. But all the prior places eventually soured on having them present. Some worlds weren't a good match because of the dominant species. Some were already in the last throes of their civilization's death. Some were simply uncomfortable with people from another world. Others, most others, were uncomfortable around and jealous of the Zekirans because of their immortality.

For whatever reason, they were moved from world to world. For what would be a species-age, long enough for an entire species of creature to come to civilization on its own (like... the Steeds and Ferilons that they left behind on Zekira?), they traveled around the galaxy looking. Always searching, through Pharoah wondered why. Some of them could survive outside the ship - in the vacuum of space itself. They had ghosts, recent and ancient, traveling with them. They could just as easily have created a slightly bigger ship, and continued their drifting. After all, the worlds they found were all quite lovely when viewed from space.

It's when they were seen on the ground level, that they started getting a little antsy.

Pharoah could detect the minds of people who were not inherently psionic, as well as those who were - though he really does have an easier time getting information from psychic people. When they landed on that one world with the dead-minds, he got some peace and quiet for the first time in a hundred thousand years. But those people turned on the Zekirans too, keeping them as slaves. Though they'd all known their home world to have slavery - it wasn't like this. It wasn't 'war-slaves', it wasn't 'fight for your dinner' slavery on Zekira the first time around. They had to leave, and they knew that a couple had been left behind. No one knew what became of those people.

Pharoah found that Planet Twenty was mildly interesting, what with the psionic Kin living there. They were still few and far between considering how big the Zekiran population had once been, and how big the populations of the other 19 planets in the confed were. The wide, airy space everywhere gave even Pharoah pause. He liked it here.

He had chosen a nice spot suitable to be alone, or to have the occasional party. Though he looked rather snake-like, he was like all Zekirans nicely warm-blooded and didn't do some of the weird things that his White Valley peers had to do - like photosynthesize or recharge in the sun. He just liked having a balcony that flooded with sunlight every afternoon. The Zekiran peak, upon which was built their city (named Zekira, go figure) had dottings of their population all over it from top to bottom and even underneath it. He'd chosen a middle-height plateau surrounded by squat, windblown trees, on the north-west face, to build his home.

Pharoah's homestead, like numerous others on the mountain, was actually shaped rather than built. Talented rock-shapers, those with psionics tuned to the earth and stone, would come by and make sure that everything was secure to build upon. Then they would clear out the desired space just inside the mountainside, reinforce it, add whatever plumbing arrangements were required, and allow the actual builders to finish it up.

His pocket of mountainside then, was not very deep into the hillside, but quite wide and with a long set of windows that finally opened up into his main hall. In the afternoon, sunlight simply pours into the place, almost inescapable. Large timber trees hold up a wide still-living and shaped wooden balcony, fit for dozens of people to lounge, party or even play games on. The pathway to this home continues on underneath that balcony, but it's almost invisible from below, it looks simply like more canopy.

Pharoah has begun to fill his home with trinkets that the Kin trade. Blankets and weavings, tapestries in particular are what he enjoys. There are furs, furnishings that are covered in the fine leather made by the horse Kin nearby, raw-wood tables and chairs. He likes to keep the place clean, the furniture simple. The complexity comes in waves every time he sleeps, he hardly needs to complicate the visuals of his own home.

***

Pharoah watched the dragons flying around, from his balcony. It was still morning, on this early winter day, the sun wouldn't be hitting his side of the mountain any time soon. In the distance below, as the mountainside drifted down and out like a huge green blanket stitched with the occasional road and homestead, he could see that the dragons were gathering as they often did.

He couldn't really read the dragons dreams, if they had any they were tucked away firmly. Perhaps it was the fact that most of the dragons were mentally and emotionally entwined with their bonds that he couldn't break into their dreams. He'd have to make an experiment. Who all had a dragon bond? Could he fish around in their dreamscape? Were the closely or distantly related to him?

Pharoah couldn't help thinking like a scientist, having been around enough of them for so long. They would do weird experiments on each other on the ship, and continued to do so here on the planet. Nothing deadly, nothing that would raise concerns about the sanity of their people. (Not that sanity had ever been a big point - especially for those in his genetic line!) Things like 'who remembered most about' some event, whose lies propogated best, who could be embarrassed a bit by a slip of the tongue even now. They had precious little to keep secret after all this time. The Zekirans on their ship sometimes recreated bits of their old lives.

But here, they had real lives to actually live. Pharoah raised four of his six arms, and stretched. He could lean very far out over the canopy below, and not worry that he'd fall. He was ridiculously stable because of his very long tail. He sometimes wished it would be more or less prehensile - he had to concentrate quite hard to get it to grow the kinds of muscles for that, but he could do it. Otherwise it was just a long, spotty tail that people often tripped over. Mirage kept giggling about it, then would wave her pale hand and refuse to say why.

He knew why, of course, because she'd met her first husband that way - by tripping over his long tail. It was entirely possible that Aeroch was in the distant past of Pharoah's genetics, tails after all tended to remain with families. But Pharoah didn't mention what he knew, he let Mirage giggle, she was precious that way. She probably knew better than to believe that her mind was off limits to his at night, but if she did she never said a thing.

But he wondered now, what those dragons down there were doing. They were making an awful lot of noise, really. He worried whether there was an attack on the way, or if someone had been hurt. It would take too long for Pharoah to grow wings from his arms, he figured that the dragons would be there when he got there, if he started trotting now.

It was easier to manipulate his leg muscles, to make him all the more raptor-like and run with a speed that normal Zekirans couldn't. His torso leaned forward a bit, with the change in his hips, and his toes grew very long, tendons stretching out and muscles clumping. His tail always came in handy when he was in his 'runnerraptor' form, he could hit great speeds and still turn on impulse. Wrapping himself around a couple trees early in life taught him how best to maneuver around them, and since his first couple hundred years he was an expert at dodging those slow-moving objects in his path.

He dropped to the forest floor, checked the angle of descent from his home's road, and headed directly downwards. He didn't bother with the road, that would take hours. He had worn a bit of a path down from his home to the next few ridges, and he had to assume that the folks living in the stilt homes and heavily covered nooks heard him coming as he thundered past.

Unlike many other naga-type people, Pharoah's body had the normal configuration of lungs and innards. He would wear himself out - so he had to remind himself (again, this wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last) that he had to increase his lung capacity before attempting to vault down the mountainside! He couldn't slow down, so he chose a fairly lightly forested path and gave his body some thought. By the time he'd passed the third house down (belonging to slinky-beautiful Nightmare, Treason's daughter who rarely looked even half as humanoid as himself) he'd saved himself the gasping breath and had adjusted his blood a little to carry more oxygen to his muscles. Other naga-types had their guts in their lower torso, and bigger lungs to handle their solid shape. But then... Regular naga-types couldn't move nearly as fast as this!

Pharoah sped down hill until he reached a good pausing point. It was an outlook, bare of most vegetation and sufficiently jutting out that anyone standing on it had a grand view of the lower third of the mountain. He slowed his loping gate, until he could safely skid to a halt. He almost tumbled over the edge, a hundred-span drop at least, but his long tail as always saved him from any real falling threat.

The dragons were down on the last ledge, still a thousand spans away at least, but above the basin where the mountain bottomed out. The city sprawled along all parts of this area, clumping up and becoming visible only briefly around the trees and rocky hills.

Pharoah recalled distantly how the old planet of Zekira had been populated in fits and starts, this kind of space was at such a premium at one time that property values had soared, even in desolate locations like White Valley where he held his land (by default, as the offspring of renegade slaves and rogues, White Valley was never quite seen as a legitimate city until hundreds of years after his birth). Everyone had space to move, to live, create. And to have dragons visit.

The dragons didn't much visit those who weren't directly related to their bonds, which made Pharoah sort of sad. They were magnificent creatures, some more intelligent than others, some even endowed with powers similar to Zekirans or the Kin. Pharoah had flown in the past, many times, but as he expressed earlier his shapeshifting was too slow to really give him a good boost into the air when he wanted it.

What if... A dragon could come to him?

He chuckled at himself. That would be the day, right? Still, he was curious and was rested now, and had reoriented himself to where he needed to be running. Under all the canopy and through the bushes he'd drifted a little too far south, and had to bring his trail around now.

The dragons were carrying on some kind of complicated conversation, several of them trumpeting at once, and though he was not privy to their mental noise he assumed that the mindspace was filled with their voices.

He'd never heard a dragon voice but a few times since they started bonding on the ship. The voice of a dragon was so unlike and so similar to a Zekiran, he enjoyed the intimate contact and felt it ebb away with sadness in his heart. He wondered too, would bonding a dragon change his own ability to sense and control his peers? Or would it offer him a whole new range of what he could detect?

He stood quietly, beyond the glade where the dragons were chatting. They stood next to one of the many ponds and streams of the area, and then one of them turned to look at him. Pharoah wasn't obvious about his presence, but he certainly couldn't be hidden very well, his coloration usually stuck around as much as his legs did when he shifted. He glanced around, and the dragon continued to stare at him.

"Um..." Pharoah said. Suddenly he was painfully aware that even in draconic society, having some grasp on manners and verbiage was important. Even if they weren't humanoid, they were still ... people. "Um, hello," he stammered. His ears tilted downward, and if he'd been a real naga he'd have sunk to the ground. His legs, still madly strong from his runner form, would hardly let him be anything but gangly.

Greetings, bespoke the dragon, he was the blue that everyone knew Vanya had paired up with, quite early in the bonding of Zekirans to dragons. Ruarth, by name. Are you interested in something? Us perhaps?

Pharoah coughed out a 'how'd you know sputter-groan yes I am' but got no words out really. But Ruarth was experienced in such things, interpreting his action correctly. The dragon's mind, like the others he'd experienced, was smooth and deep, full of life. Ruarth was one of the oldest dragons that the Zekirans brought with them, yet he still had a kind of innocence about him. Perhaps in his heritage, his kind of dragon were not commonly immortal nor remarkably bright. He was though, very polite and considerate to the people he met.

Come along with me. We are discussing which of the folk here to send somewhere, we've heard many things about a place, Mirus, and its dragons. Would you like to go?

"Of course I would!" Pharoah blured out, and that made several of the other dragons heads turn. One, the huge black colored Glenn dragon named Neres Storm, chuffed and almost let out a gout of flame, but someone else stopped her.

"He is intruding," she said simply.

"He's our guest now," said another, an orange Geperna. "So stay off that blast-first attitude of yours, Neres."

She went off in a huff, which was okay for a lot of the dragons, as Neres was well known for being absolutely mad - as her bond Tresis was.

"Thank you," Pharoah said, "I've never been up close like this since we landed here." He stepped out from the shadow of the trees, "do you mind if I come look at you all?" To which the dragons settled into a kind of posing match. There were tall, long legged ones, and smaller smooth-skinned, all colors, some with feathers, fur, most with hide or scales. The only ones not here, he realized, were the sea-faring dragons that Jolie took care of down in the cove many thousands of miles distant.

The offer still stands, would you like to help us bring back new dragons? Ruarth asked. The other dragons had gone back to an animated discussion about whether eating whole trees was acceptable or if merely uprooting them whole and relocating them was a better plan to make the glade a bit wider.

"I would be honored to," Pharoah said with a bow.

"Me too," said another voice, "I heard you coming through, and the dragons are always noisy down there," it was Nightmare. "If that's all right."

It is acceptable to me, we will have to see if the Mirus dragons wish it so. Ruarth told her, a bit surprised at her sudden appearance.

Pharoah smiled at his distant cousin, he was always rather enamored of her - and her ability to shapeshift was stunningly better than his own. Their powers were vaguely similar, since they shared several ancestors (who didn't) she also had a control over dreams, but she could also control shapeshifters regardless of their relationship to her. It would frequently startle any of the local Kin who had a shapeshifting gene, she would coerse their new form out of them whether they were ready for it or not. In most ways, Pharoah was overshadowed by his younger (by three hundred years!.... yeah like that matters!) far-removed cousin. But at this time, they were equals.

Ruarth offered to take Pharoah, while one of the others, Marantanth of a long-gone Starlight Hatchery line, took Nightmare.

They would know soon enough, whether they'd both be finding new friends. Pharoah noted that Nightmare's ability to block him out was strong - though not perfect. On their way through the Nexus, Pharoah wondered whether they'd finally pair up themselves after all this time... Their kids would be grand, wouldn't they?

... Those thoughts had crossed his mind many, many times regarding Nightmare. Though they shared a grandsire, and certainly many distant ancestors (many of whom were still alive with them on Planet Twenty) it hardly mattered whether immortals bred together. Their shapeshifting genes would more than accomodate whatever mutations might appear, more likely they'd be reinforcing the ones already present (like the multiplicity of limbs, the horns, tail, and more). So Pharoah allowed himself to wonder on it more deeply now that they would be off alone, on another world together...

He and she didn't have much time to really discuss their future plans beyond dragons. Because they were everywhere. There were furry ones, bat-winged ones, dragons with limbs everywhere and ones that defied description. Nightmare slunk around like she owned the place, while Pharoah investigated only when he was invited. But in this manner, they both wound up finding a small dragonet .... small being a relative term.

Because the young were new, hardly matured, they were small. But both the Zekirans and the other person who had arrived around the same time noticed that these long, slinky creatures had all the earmarks of being huge when they grew up.

When Kirena first gave off a mewling sound, Pharoah thought he was going to cry. It was such a sad, lonely sound! But then he realized once he picked up the struggling multiple-limbed baby dragon, it was only going to be lonely as long as he didn't have a friend. And now, Kirena did.

The dragon wrapped himself around Pharoah and made it look like he was wearing a complicated fur coat.

***

When they all got home to Planet Twenty, Pharoah and his dragon friend were quite the team. Because he could turn invisible, Kirena would play sneaking-up games when he was a midsized youth (at only around 20 feet long), but people started getting wise to that. He gave that up and only uses the power now to find meals!

He would far rather be seen than be ignored after all. Pharoh has learned with him, gotten a little bolder, and found himself attending parties and gatherings that he hadn't tried out before.

"I like that female, too," Kirena said, "Nightmare and you are good together. Do you think that your babies will find dragon friends too?"

"... When we have some, Kirena," Pharoah laughed, watching Nightmare from across a castle ledge, "probably they will. How could they avoid it, after all these dragons are around them?"