Mai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxic_reveries) wrote2011-12-14 09:34 pm
toxic_reveries) wrote2011-12-14 09:34 pm
four.
4.
The dragon dove. And instantly Leah and Corey moved apart from each other, wings bursting from the slits in their shirts, feathers falling like rain as they shot upward. A man on the ground pulled a machine gun up, shooting viciously, to seemingly no avail. A woman nearby let out an enraged shriek, unsheathing the long knife at her side. Brave. But highly likely to fall.
Nigel sighed quietly as if agreeing with Alan’s thoughts. Then added his own. “They’ll need a sword,” he said, almost sing-song. “For a dragon. A blade to slay it.”
They were in Er’Neharl without realizing, Alan thought. The dread wyrm guarding her domain jealously and possessively. If there was but a tower, they’d be in that quiet legend. He wondered, idly, what lay atop that cliff.
The third unnamed man in their group fell to nothing in the dragon’s mouth, and it was the sight of that blood, slick and bright against the teeth as large as Alan’s body, that shook him from his staring. It slammed into the ground before them with a land-shaking roar, and stumbling, Alan saw that its scales were silver. It was only that they reflected the sunset, reds and golds echoing backwards. Its wings spread territorially, and he seemed to remember. He seemed to imagine.
“All dragons with wings are girls, you know.”
He looked at her doubtfully, and she only laughed. “I don’t know if they’re real, but that’s what I’ve been taught. Only the girls have wings. Fierce and protective to protect their own.”
Annoyed, he gave, “Males can protect just as well.”
She seemed to consider this, sobering, then looked up, green eyes dark and shining. “Maybe it’s that females have more to lose. Maybe they have more reason to take to the air.”
Alan shrugged it off, agreeing to disagree, and the conversation moved on. “Are you going to tell me there are unicorns now…?”
“…It’s female,” he murmured in musing, and Nigel’s head cocked towards him. “It’s protecting something.”
Nigel turned the thought over, then pulled his hands from his pockets. “Find out what. You have seven minutes.”
Seven. The number existed as too engrained, and he wasted twenty seconds staring after his brother before Alan darted to the cliff face. In his peripherals, Corinthians’s golden-brown wings kept him out of the reach of sharp teeth, a machete and handgun in opposing hands. Opposite, Leah screamed in something like fury, bespeckled black and white wings closing to dive. On the ground, the woman who moved in bravery had been crumpled under a clawed foot. And against the chaos, Nigel moved gently, spine stiff to only those that could recognize, and began to sing quietly. In moments, it would be louder than the clash of combat--if the dragon was sentient, or at least had enough mind to affect. There had been a want within Alan, that of stopping an act that could turn irredeemable, and Nigel had moved to work towards that without asking.
Words of gratitude were beyond them by now, but the emotion existed nonetheless.
Alan closed his ears and climbed, the faintest melody falling behind him. Holding no knowledge of what continued on more stable ground.
-
His voice rose inhumanly, drowning out the myriad of sounds. Leah had shot upwards for another dive, blood streaking an arm, and recognized it for what it was. The dragon’s head swayed back and forth, as if unwilling to fully relax under the apparent siren’s call. Corey had dropped to the ground to look at his hands; the remaining man stared dumbly at a patch of grass. A furious drive filled her, and she did indeed dive again--this time at one in a human form instead of a monster.
Though she was beginning to understand why Corey believed the form held no meaning for the essence.
Leah slammed into Nigel, cutting him off as they crashed to the ground. Her fist drew back sharply, understanding full well what might happen if she was not quick, but the man only looked at her blankly, sparing her no emotion. She was but another human, more or less, holding no impact on his personal life. He spoke, and the phrase used could be translated to, “do not.” It came more fluidly, one long word, and she sat back, a part of her enraged at losing the solitary chance.
He shifted from under her, stood and brushed off his knees, moved to open his mouth--
And the tail of the beast caught him in the ribs, flinging him to the side.
Consciousness, he decided, was like a woman. Capricious and not to be wholly relied upon.
-
There was a roar as he grabbed for the top of the cliff, small rocks pelting his back as they fell. He winced in acknowledgment of his time lost, and pulled himself upward, starting forward to view--
A lighthouse. Simple and towering, it rose in fog and grays. A legend given in spotty memory and filled in by a child. As it turned out, the man was not altogether wrong in that thought. Five feet from the base, and the door opened inward, a child draped in gray moving to the doorway. You’re right, of course, came the quiet voice inside Alan’s mind. She’s protecting me.
There was pain in the look that followed, a emotion close to resignation. And she’ll die for it.
Alan glanced at the edge of the cliff in something like concern, but before he could begin to move or speak, there was a sound like a sonic boom, and a rush of air pushed over the cliff. He shielded his eyes, and behind him, he felt small arms slowly wrap around his waist.
-
There was a phrase that mentioned rain. That spoke of storms. “It came down like a religion, all anger and love and need. It showed the way and then disappeared. A little more, a little less.” In the phrase, it continued, speaking of differences and separation. “It was the middle of a forming tornado, and we stood outside and watched it form.
“They say, I brought it with me.”
-
At the edge of the forest at the foot of the cliff that housed the hidden lighthouse there existed a battle currently in motion. The dragon struck out, tail crashing into one who, if he had been a little more human, might not have continued after that attack. A clawed foot stomped down on an unnamed male, and the only two conscious became two that were like angels in form, bloodied and gasping for air, and apparently, were about to die. The dragon’s head drew back, inhaling a great influx of air, and the nearly estranged siblings exchanged glances, desperation and resolution both, and they would move as they would, as much as they were able.
Except there was singing. Albeit briefly, and perhaps not nearly as lovely. It came as a light alto, and demanded the attention of all those that heard it. The two looked downward, the dragon exhaled without flames, and the short woman moved forward, shadows flanking her. When she spoke, it was understood by all, but if asked to repeat it, they wouldn’t be able to remember the words. “That isn’t your form. Return to it.”
The two graced the ground and retracted their wings, and the dragon shuddered in some kind of suffering. The woman only stared, her will in her eyes. There was an expulsion of air, sound waves raking the valley, and the dust settled to reveal an attractive woman with long golden hair. She glared contemptuously, a hand on her hip, though her chest heaved for breath. A forced shifting was never easy.
Yet the short-haired woman that strode into the field seemed to hold no mercy. Her eyes narrowed further. “Your true form.” A demand. With none left to counter.
The other woman gave a cry and shuddered again, skin convulsing over bone. There was the slosh of organs forcibly shifting, the crack of bones breaking to resettle in another position, and the quiet hiss of scales spreading over flesh. At the end, what had once been the woman lay heaving on the ground, a lesser and far less frightening mirror of what the group had already fought, the size of a child’s pony instead of a few evergreens. Eyes that held fire wearily turned a hate-filled glare onto the one whose hair held the sunset, as the dragon’s scales tried to reflect so imperfectly. Happy? came the thought, harsh and angry.
To all who viewed this, the emotion came with surprise, when the remaining woman smiled lightly, tersely. “Dai’stiho, cousin.”
The phrase held something to the dragon that it did not to the humans, and the creature started, staring. Eventually its gaze dropped, and the thought echoed in resignation. …Dai.
Well met.
The woman’s hand went to the dragon's snout, and near shyly, untrusting, scale moved to touch flesh. A blush of pink washed over the dragon’s scales and vanished, a show of surprise, and the dragon’s eyes closed.
The one known as Arianna straightened, to nod briskly at her remaining followers and friends.
-
five.
The dragon dove. And instantly Leah and Corey moved apart from each other, wings bursting from the slits in their shirts, feathers falling like rain as they shot upward. A man on the ground pulled a machine gun up, shooting viciously, to seemingly no avail. A woman nearby let out an enraged shriek, unsheathing the long knife at her side. Brave. But highly likely to fall.
Nigel sighed quietly as if agreeing with Alan’s thoughts. Then added his own. “They’ll need a sword,” he said, almost sing-song. “For a dragon. A blade to slay it.”
They were in Er’Neharl without realizing, Alan thought. The dread wyrm guarding her domain jealously and possessively. If there was but a tower, they’d be in that quiet legend. He wondered, idly, what lay atop that cliff.
The third unnamed man in their group fell to nothing in the dragon’s mouth, and it was the sight of that blood, slick and bright against the teeth as large as Alan’s body, that shook him from his staring. It slammed into the ground before them with a land-shaking roar, and stumbling, Alan saw that its scales were silver. It was only that they reflected the sunset, reds and golds echoing backwards. Its wings spread territorially, and he seemed to remember. He seemed to imagine.
“All dragons with wings are girls, you know.”
He looked at her doubtfully, and she only laughed. “I don’t know if they’re real, but that’s what I’ve been taught. Only the girls have wings. Fierce and protective to protect their own.”
Annoyed, he gave, “Males can protect just as well.”
She seemed to consider this, sobering, then looked up, green eyes dark and shining. “Maybe it’s that females have more to lose. Maybe they have more reason to take to the air.”
Alan shrugged it off, agreeing to disagree, and the conversation moved on. “Are you going to tell me there are unicorns now…?”
“…It’s female,” he murmured in musing, and Nigel’s head cocked towards him. “It’s protecting something.”
Nigel turned the thought over, then pulled his hands from his pockets. “Find out what. You have seven minutes.”
Seven. The number existed as too engrained, and he wasted twenty seconds staring after his brother before Alan darted to the cliff face. In his peripherals, Corinthians’s golden-brown wings kept him out of the reach of sharp teeth, a machete and handgun in opposing hands. Opposite, Leah screamed in something like fury, bespeckled black and white wings closing to dive. On the ground, the woman who moved in bravery had been crumpled under a clawed foot. And against the chaos, Nigel moved gently, spine stiff to only those that could recognize, and began to sing quietly. In moments, it would be louder than the clash of combat--if the dragon was sentient, or at least had enough mind to affect. There had been a want within Alan, that of stopping an act that could turn irredeemable, and Nigel had moved to work towards that without asking.
Words of gratitude were beyond them by now, but the emotion existed nonetheless.
Alan closed his ears and climbed, the faintest melody falling behind him. Holding no knowledge of what continued on more stable ground.
-
His voice rose inhumanly, drowning out the myriad of sounds. Leah had shot upwards for another dive, blood streaking an arm, and recognized it for what it was. The dragon’s head swayed back and forth, as if unwilling to fully relax under the apparent siren’s call. Corey had dropped to the ground to look at his hands; the remaining man stared dumbly at a patch of grass. A furious drive filled her, and she did indeed dive again--this time at one in a human form instead of a monster.
Though she was beginning to understand why Corey believed the form held no meaning for the essence.
Leah slammed into Nigel, cutting him off as they crashed to the ground. Her fist drew back sharply, understanding full well what might happen if she was not quick, but the man only looked at her blankly, sparing her no emotion. She was but another human, more or less, holding no impact on his personal life. He spoke, and the phrase used could be translated to, “do not.” It came more fluidly, one long word, and she sat back, a part of her enraged at losing the solitary chance.
He shifted from under her, stood and brushed off his knees, moved to open his mouth--
And the tail of the beast caught him in the ribs, flinging him to the side.
Consciousness, he decided, was like a woman. Capricious and not to be wholly relied upon.
-
There was a roar as he grabbed for the top of the cliff, small rocks pelting his back as they fell. He winced in acknowledgment of his time lost, and pulled himself upward, starting forward to view--
A lighthouse. Simple and towering, it rose in fog and grays. A legend given in spotty memory and filled in by a child. As it turned out, the man was not altogether wrong in that thought. Five feet from the base, and the door opened inward, a child draped in gray moving to the doorway. You’re right, of course, came the quiet voice inside Alan’s mind. She’s protecting me.
There was pain in the look that followed, a emotion close to resignation. And she’ll die for it.
Alan glanced at the edge of the cliff in something like concern, but before he could begin to move or speak, there was a sound like a sonic boom, and a rush of air pushed over the cliff. He shielded his eyes, and behind him, he felt small arms slowly wrap around his waist.
-
There was a phrase that mentioned rain. That spoke of storms. “It came down like a religion, all anger and love and need. It showed the way and then disappeared. A little more, a little less.” In the phrase, it continued, speaking of differences and separation. “It was the middle of a forming tornado, and we stood outside and watched it form.
“They say, I brought it with me.”
-
At the edge of the forest at the foot of the cliff that housed the hidden lighthouse there existed a battle currently in motion. The dragon struck out, tail crashing into one who, if he had been a little more human, might not have continued after that attack. A clawed foot stomped down on an unnamed male, and the only two conscious became two that were like angels in form, bloodied and gasping for air, and apparently, were about to die. The dragon’s head drew back, inhaling a great influx of air, and the nearly estranged siblings exchanged glances, desperation and resolution both, and they would move as they would, as much as they were able.
Except there was singing. Albeit briefly, and perhaps not nearly as lovely. It came as a light alto, and demanded the attention of all those that heard it. The two looked downward, the dragon exhaled without flames, and the short woman moved forward, shadows flanking her. When she spoke, it was understood by all, but if asked to repeat it, they wouldn’t be able to remember the words. “That isn’t your form. Return to it.”
The two graced the ground and retracted their wings, and the dragon shuddered in some kind of suffering. The woman only stared, her will in her eyes. There was an expulsion of air, sound waves raking the valley, and the dust settled to reveal an attractive woman with long golden hair. She glared contemptuously, a hand on her hip, though her chest heaved for breath. A forced shifting was never easy.
Yet the short-haired woman that strode into the field seemed to hold no mercy. Her eyes narrowed further. “Your true form.” A demand. With none left to counter.
The other woman gave a cry and shuddered again, skin convulsing over bone. There was the slosh of organs forcibly shifting, the crack of bones breaking to resettle in another position, and the quiet hiss of scales spreading over flesh. At the end, what had once been the woman lay heaving on the ground, a lesser and far less frightening mirror of what the group had already fought, the size of a child’s pony instead of a few evergreens. Eyes that held fire wearily turned a hate-filled glare onto the one whose hair held the sunset, as the dragon’s scales tried to reflect so imperfectly. Happy? came the thought, harsh and angry.
To all who viewed this, the emotion came with surprise, when the remaining woman smiled lightly, tersely. “Dai’stiho, cousin.”
The phrase held something to the dragon that it did not to the humans, and the creature started, staring. Eventually its gaze dropped, and the thought echoed in resignation. …Dai.
Well met.
The woman’s hand went to the dragon's snout, and near shyly, untrusting, scale moved to touch flesh. A blush of pink washed over the dragon’s scales and vanished, a show of surprise, and the dragon’s eyes closed.
The one known as Arianna straightened, to nod briskly at her remaining followers and friends.
-
five.