Tyrosciol sat up a little straighter.
He rather liked this arrangement.
No claws or poison or any more painful bolts. Just riddles.
He was reasonably confident in riddles. Not that he thought of many or of them at all, but he was a dragon, so naturally he assumed that he had to be good at creating them.
"I'll go first," he declared.
The stranger inclined their head. Tyrosciol thought very hard. And then he thought that he had a good riddle.
Simple, yet very effective.
"What has four legs…" he paused dramatically. "But isn't alive?"
The stranger looked at him.
"A chair?"
Tyrosciol's eyes widened.
"How did you know?!" He said.
In a way he was delighted that his riddle was solved, but he was shocked that it was at all.
A chair was a relatively obscure item for a dragon; not many would have guessed it.
Maybe for a human it was banal, he thought at first, but seeing as this one wasn't a human, due to surviving his fumes, he thought that they wouldn't know so easily.
"Your turn," he said begrudgingly.
The stranger thought for a moment, then said, "I have lakes with no water, mountains with no stone, and roads with no carts. What am I?"
Tyroscoil frowned intensely.
"A painting?"
"No."
"A dream?"
"No."
Tyrosciol spent several long moments thinking.
"A very disappointing kingdom?"
"No."
Even with a dragon's pride, he had to admit when he was beaten. He just didn't know the answer.
"I surrender."
"A map"
"...What?"
Tyrosciol looked deeply offended.
The non-human said nothing.
"Okay, fine," Tyrosciol said after a moment.
He crossed his forelegs. "My turn. …What goes down but never goes up?"
"Rain?" The stranger guessed immediately.
"…That is correct."
He huffed loudly.
"The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?" The stranger asked.
"...Treasure?"
"No."
"Food?"
"No."
"I don't know."
"Footsteps. The more steps you take, the more footsteps you leave behind."
"That isn't fair. How would I have been able to know that? I barely fly, let alone walk anywhere. I don't like your riddles."
"They're traditional."
"They're not that. They're tricky!"
"They're meant to make you think."
"I am thinking."
"They're also meant for children."
"Maybe because I am a dragon and not a child, I have a hard time thinking of the answers."
He tapped one claw against his forehead.
"My head hurts."
"That's often a sign that a riddle is working."
Tyrosciol grumbled.
"Have we come to the end of our little game?" The stranger asked.
Tyrosciol looked at the stranger suspiciously.
"Have I won any?"
The stranger considered.
"I've answered your riddles; you answered none of mine."
"...Oh."
Tyrosciol looked utterly scandalized.
"I don't think I like mind battles."
"They can be humbling."
"They're awful."
He buried his face beneath one wing for a moment before peeking back out.
"...Can I have another chance?"
"If you wish."
Tyrosciol immediately brightened.
He had already forgotten being upset. He just needed a better riddle.