I'm tired and have no creative title

Phantom first saw Freya through a curtain of rain. The storm had rolled over the cliffs only an hour or perhaps two before sunset, drenching the black stone shoreline and turning the tide pools into mirrors of silver. Phantom drifted silently beneath the water’s surface, his long body gliding through the currents with practiced grace. Tiny glowing fish scattered around his fins like stars fleeing a dark sky. He had come ashore to gather shells, for what we may never know.

The water dragon rose carefully from the sea, droplets streaming from the dark scales that blended almost perfectly with the evening. His front claws hooked against the rocks while the rest of his body, sleek fins and long tail, flowed behind him like liquid shadow. That was when he heard laughter, not a cruel laugh, no, something warmer. Phantom lifted his head. A wyvern stood several ledges above him, silhouetted against streaks of orange sky, slowly faded to silver and then to darkness. Black scales framed a body lined with molten orange cracks that looked almost volcanic but they were not. Her wings flexed once, scattering rainwater in glittering arcs.

Freya.

Though Phantom did not yet know her name. She noticed him almost immediately. Bright orange eyes narrowed with curiosity rather than suspicion as she hopped down onto a lower rock with surprising lightness for her size. “Well,” she called, voice cheerful, her sharp scales glinting in the waning sun, “you’re prettier than anything else I’ve found out here.”

Phantom blinked.

Most dragons found him unsettling at first glance. His white glowing eyes, colossal, many finned body, and silent movements often earned caution instead of compliments. But Freya grinned openly at him as if they were already friends. Phantom bowed his head politely.

“Thank you,” he said smoothly. “Though I suspect the darkening sky has affected your judgment.” Freya barked out a laugh. She landed fully on the shore now, talons scraping wet stone. Up close, Phantom could feel the heat radiating faintly from her smaller body. Steam seemed to curl where rain touched her shoulders. A fire dragon, then.

“I’m Freya,” she said. “And you are?”

“Phantom.”

“Hm.” She tilted her head. “Fitting.”

The rain intensified around them, drumming against the cliffs and sea. The storm seemed to have gotten worse during his conversation with Freya. He glanced up at the further darkening sky and when he turned to look back at her, there was a mischievous glint in her eye. Storm dragon as well. Interesting. They stayed in peaceful silence, watching the sky, the downpour that didn’t seem to bother either dragon, the flashes of lightning that struck across the sky in jagged streams. But Phantom noticed Freya occasionally glancing toward the crashing waves below. It was not the fearful glances that one unaccustomed to water might give but Interest.

An idea stirred in his mind.

“You’ve traveled far?” he asked.

“Couple days,” Freya replied. “My rider doesn’t need me right now. I got bored.”

There was mischief in her voice when she mentioned boredom, the kind that suggested trouble followed her naturally. Phantom smiled faintly. “I hope the shoreline has not disappointed you.”

“No. But it could stand to be more exciting.” The challenge in her tone was unmistakable. Phantom looked toward the ocean, then he stepped forward. The sea answered immediately. Water rose from the crashing tide in long ribbons that spiraled around his body without touching him. Freya’s expression shifted from amusement to genuine surprise as glowing streams wrapped around Phantom’s fins and claws like living silk. The dragon moved gracefully, almost dancing. The ribbons widened into spinning rings overhead. Rainwater joined them midair, pulled upward into swirling shapes that reflected the lightning overhead. Phantom guided the currents with slow movements of his front claws, never hurried, never strained.

A translucent serpent formed above the sea, then another. The water dragons circled Freya harmlessly, between her wings before bursting into showers of droplets. Freya stared openly now, perhaps at a loss for words. Phantom allowed himself a small smile. He tilted his head as he observed her further, she looked magnificent. Phantom suspected she usually looked dangerous first and beautiful second but at the moment, she looked both. She leaned down toward him, grinning broadly. “You do this for every dragon you meet?”

“No,” Phantom said honestly.

Something softened in Freya’s expression at that. For a moment neither dragon spoke.

Only thunder filled the silence, then Freya stepped closer. Close enough that Phantom could feel her warmth through the cold rain. “Well,” she said lightly, “if this is your first impression, I might actually let you stick around.”