[PRP] Dreaming Wide Awake [Cylistine x Eriesyi x Rakitanos]

[Path of the Dragon]

Fifty-three thousand six hundred and eighty-eight hours, thirty-six minutes and fifteen seconds.

Six years, one month and sixteen days of a seemingly endless battle had Rakitanos wondering just what it was that would bring it all to an end.

Immortality was a gift and a curse, one he had long ago learned to accept by way of some very hard taught lessons. There had been times in the past few years when Rakitanos once again found himself wishing for a death that would never come, if only to escape the physical and emotional pain that had come to be almost overwhelming.

Yet each time he felt like giving up, he saw her again. When the battle first began and the night had become the only peaceful time, Rakitanos had welcomed the reprieve and the quiet talks with Cylistine. Now, six years later, his nights were filled with dreams of her. Each morning Rakitanos got up, he could not tell apart the dreams from the reality and had given up on trying.

Instead he simply returned to what could now be considered a routine of defense and carefully laid attacks that grew more and more tired as the years wore on. The Banshee never lost the strength of her rage - if nothing else, her fury seemed to grow with each passing day and her violence had no escalated to the point that Rakitanos did nothing now but dance away from her as best he could, and curl up when she caught him.

His scales were his greatest defense against her rage, and the Banshee did not take long to learn his weakest points. Rakitanos knew that if this fight ever ended, he would need years of magic working to repair his wings from the tattered remains they were now. Every now and then, she would manage to rip at his ears before he could hide them, and those were the few times when he bit her harshly. Those moments always seemed to end the same, with her clawing for his throat and him throwing her from him and leaping away in the moments it took for her to get up and after him again.

Cylistine cared about this vicious creature, he found himself thinking day after day, to remember why he could not kill the female and be done with all this mess. Six years, one month and sixteen days he had told himself this, and for six years, one month and sixteen days he had held back as best he could, staying on the defense and attacking only when necessary - or when too frustrated to not kick the Banshee as far from him as he could manage and take a breathing moment.

Six years, one month and sixteen days, and he still had not found the courage to tell Cylistine he loved her.

Stretching slowly, Rakitanos reveled in the advantage of being the first to wake after the beautiful dreaming. There was no flight left in him - he would not be able to call on that until he could heal his wings - so the dragon often woke early so he could find a hiding place before the Banshee awoke. It never took her long to find him, but it was a brief peace nonetheless.

Glancing over at her and her lantern, Rakitanos laid his ears back a bit and curled his tail around himself. He had grown so weary of fighting - had been weary for precisely forty-eight thousand two hundred and eighty-eight hours, forty-one minutes and fifteen seconds. There was nothing he wanted more than to end it, but he had no idea how. He couldn't kill this female, for Cylistine would never forgive him.

Yet he couldn't just leave the fight, because this female would follow him - would not stop until he died without caring at all for the fact he was incapable of it. In all truth, that wasn't the reason he stayed, but Rakitanos was too sore inside and out to acknowledge the real reason he didn't run away. It had nothing to do with pride or fear - and everything to do with the fact that he knew, deep in his soul, that if he left now he would never see Cylistine again.

And so he lived through the fighting and remembered why he couldn't attack, faced the brutality each and every day, counting every minute down to the second until he could dream of her again. Wishing every second for a way to make it stop, without ever coming closer to finding a way how.

"What are you fighting for?" He whispered softly, rising back to his feet, "Do you even remember anymore?"

Turning, Rakitanos sighed and walked away, flicking his tail at the Banshee who would surely wake any moment to attack him. Sixteen hours, nineteen minutes and fifty seconds until the dreams would start again....

 

[Path of the Dragon]

Rakitanos did not have too much time to hide this morning and he was aware of that as the Banshee whimpered as he was walking away. Moving quicker, the dragon chose to duck behind some nearby rocks and clamber up quickly. It wasn't the best of places, but it would give him time to keep an eye on her and prepare to dash off once she came for the rock he was curled up on.

As the Banshee got to her feet, Rakitanos crouched a bit lower on his paws, making himself comfortable on the rock while he could, his tail wrapping about him to condense his size. He was prepared to bound off the rock as soon as necessary, but until then he knew that any relaxation he could obtain now or at any other point of the day would be a blessing later.

He was not prepared for what happened next. In over six years of warfare and snarls, Rakitanos had not ever once heard the Banshee speak. He had, in fact, come to the conclusion she had lost the ability after Hell's Gate had swallowed her. As such, when a richly ragged voice echoed through the cavern, angry as a snarl yet smoothly articulated beyond the fury, Rakitanos nearly tumbled off his rock in shock.

Fluttering the hallowed bones that where still firmly connected to his joints and still responded as proper wings should but for the fact they bore nothing but shredded membrane and a few bits of flesh these days, Rakitanos overcame his astonishment by perking his ears forward and listening to what the female had to say.

As the speech was concluded with the sound of claws scraping harshly against rock, the dragon shifted uncomfortably on his perch. It had been so long since he took Cylistine that he had honestly forgotten quite how it had happened. He knew only that after he had become determined toward her happiness, such thoughts of how she came to be with him had been deemed inconsequential.

Now, hearing the Banshee's rendition, he recalled it all fully. His desire to capture Cylistine for his hoard, to keep her like some pretty bauble atop his mountains of exotic spoils. He remembered not caring about the fact that she was a living being and wanting only to keep his collection as majestic as it could possibly be. Something as beautiful as Cylistine belonged among the jewels and patterned rugs, the gold and tapestries - not out in the world where it could be tarnished and worn down.

He remembered Cylistine's confusion and her fear, and he remembered her first words, so quiet and timid, broken and lost.

It had been her tears that had first changed Rakitanos. He could not bear them, yet he could not bear to release her either. So he had begun taking interest in her happiness, speaking to her and bringing her all sorts of gifts and treasures. Over time he started to forget why she cried sometimes, had started to forget she was his prisoner, because he had stopped seeing her as such. She was his only friend and companion, the only living being he could trust with his secrets.

He had come to tell her almost everything, after learning that his voice soothed her and also that she loved stories. He had stopped seeing her as an item and began seeing her as something far more precious. So he had told her about Heart Treasure, and how a dragon's hoarding of treasure was based off the concept.

He remembered how she had not thought to ask him why he lived alone and hoarded gold and artifacts like the myths believed, instead of living among a clan and guarding a mate and kits who were the source of Heart Treasure.

He remembered telling her why anyway, some long while later.

Uncurling himself from his paws, Rakitanos looked down at the Banshee and understood her better than ever before. She fought for Cylistine just as Rakitanos did - but it was she who had the right to fight. She, who had found her Heart Treasure stolen away, and had doubtless searched endlessly for it in order to locate Rakitanos in his lair as she had.

Overcome a moment by the Banshee's sheer dedication, he remembered what he had planned to do before. Remembered that fleeting moment when Hell swallowed the fae whole, and he had realized that for Cylistine, he had to make sure the female lived. Rakitanos recalled knowing the fae as Cylistine's close friend, but he had never realized the depth of the love between them.

He had never realized how many times Cylistine had tried to tell him, in her broken worded ways, until this moment.

Leaping down to the ground, Rakitanos kept the tattered wings back and lowered his ears as he padded forward slowly, so used to the Banshee's wrath that he held no fear for it. He knew she would tear at him regardless, but now that she had spoken, he wanted to try and reach her with his own words.

Perhaps if he did, this fighting could stop once and for all.

Even if it meant that all the dreaming would come to an end - but that he would not think of.

"I'm sorry," He stated loudly, his voice booming in his chest as he sought to make himself heard by the female already looking about with intent to attack. He doubted he had time to explain much else, to use his words in the manner he was best at, so instead he rumbled lowly, "But you are not the only one who loves her now."

His voice had attracted her, and he knew his words would infuriate her beyond imagining, but they had to be spoken. Closing his eyes, Rakitanos bowed his head and braced for the coming onslaught as he murmured in a voice that was clear even in its quietness, "If this fight never ends, what will she do with herself? One of us has to stop this."

One of us must make the sacrifice.

For her sake.