|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 1:54 pm
x x x x x█║ WHO: Krinn & Nolan
x x x x x█║ WHEN: Mid-morning.
x x x x x█║ WHERE: The outskirts of Aimes.
x x x x x█║ WEATHER: Warm; there's a low, cool ocean front that makes fog a bit dense by the water.
He was a child; he was bound to slip sooner or later.
Donning his over-dressed apparel to go into town, Nolan had relished the heat that surrounded his body in the coat, pants and low-drawn hat. It had been nice in the morning, a rolling fog unusual for that time of year but welcome all the same, the distant sun's rays promising to burn away the comfortable mist no later than noon. The dragon wanted to be home in time to greet those rays so he could sunbathe properly on the cliff that overlooked the ocean, and thus was in a hurry. It was his first mistake.
He placed the vague order for plywood as soon as the shop in Aimes had opened; six on the nose. Nolan had no idea what Tesla wanted with it but she had promised it would be something he'd enjoy when the time came to reveal. Because the marketplace was waking up with the sleepy yawn of those passing through and beginning to set up shop, the dragon had waited patiently for the majority of the traffic to die down, spending his time perusing the messy wares (and pocketing one or two with uncanny ease) and paying for a breakfast of fruit waffles. It wasn't that he was a fan of sweets, but he always found the color of the bright red strawberries against the soft beige of the pastry to be appeasing, even though they were long out of season and were soggier than he cared for.
It wasn't until mid-morning that he began to head back to the house, and he'd almost made it out of the city without incident. It was a simple mistake and one Nolan didn't even realize he'd made right away; someone struck his shoulder smartly in passing, knocking him off balance, prompting his tail to slip out from his pants and catch his balance. He hadn't even paused as he continued out of the city and once he hit the fringe of the city, where the dingy, shack-like houses scattered between the dock that took one to the main city and the city of the dock itself that he realized he was being followed.
The first rock struck his hip; the several after that, coupled with jeering, had a harder time of hitting him but one neatly caught his brow when he turned and another on his chin. It was how he found himself with his back against one of the rundown, abandoned old buildings, his hat knocked off down the road and his jacket wrapped around his arm as though he'd protect himself with it. The dragon's ire was in full form with narrowed dark eyes, slender wings spread wide and his tail snapping behind him like an angry cat, slamming against the decrepit boards and breaking some of them. One of the men was howling in outrage, fear and pain, clutching one side of his face though it did little to stem the amount of blood that leaked through his fingers and coursed down his forearm; that fool had not only thrown the first rock, but had made the grievous error of grabbing Nolan's shoulder. He'd survive, but he'd bare the mangled scars of dragon claw for the rest of his days.
There were five others, now angry and full grown adults that had the child cornered. What had turned into a curious possibility of a turn for profit had become an excuse for violence and now revenge; Nolan, not understanding the human condition, had no idea what he'd gotten into...but damn it all to the demons and below if he wasn't going to get himself out somehow.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 5:31 pm
It was rather a grudging annoyance that he had to run errands today of all days. The Dust stifled another yawn, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth in an effort to ward away the laziness that both the lack of sleep and the glaring presence of the sun provided from overhead. The fog that had rolled in was a pleasant surprise, and he welcomed it eagerly, stretching his hands outwards as though to stroke the grey in between streets where he could not be seen. Of course, even its presence could not dull the irritation at being both errand boy and subject to his new - ah - educators teachings, both during the night and during the day. While it was obvious that he had much to learn when he'd agreed to his guardians whims to rejoin the circus, he didn't realize that they would be working him night and day to know the ropes, the rules, the little ticks of each and every one.
What was worse was that as soon as they'd learned of his ability to cook, they'd been on him like dogs.
The rain sighed, exhaling the sound of thunder as he moved to the outskirts of the town, thumbing over the pages of a book in one hand, an apple uneaten in the other. His hunger had been put on hold when he'd found the second-hand bookshop squashed in an alleyway between two streets, all too eager to spend time collecting dusty rumpled literature while the owner snored his way to death near the front, tea gone cold in front of him. He'd paid in small silver coins and left, returning to mulling the streets for things he'd been instructed to get. They were all now safe in his saddlebag, though Isobel had rather brazenly commandeered his horse with hastily scribbled instructions on when and where to meet again. Where she was going with that thing - well, - the Dust could only imagine.
As the constricting paths of city streets gave way to the dustier, grungier part of town, Krinn let out a breath of relief. He was almost at the edge of the city, where maybe he could sleep for a few hours before heading back into town. Yes, sleep sounded nice. The dust yawned again and discarded the hat he'd been wearing, allowing storm-gray hair to spill out in a neat ponytail. It was an unusual sight, but the bullies from his childhood had long since left, and those that saw interest in him were quickly scared off or shaken away. The Dust rumbled quietly at the memories and pressed his lips to the apple to take a bite -
Something familiar prickled in his spine, an awareness of something close that radiated similarity. The young adult paused, pulling the apple away from his mouth. Okay, it might have been the sound of a fight too, but he could hope. Something started howling, and every bone in his body screamed to stay away, but the apple and the book fell before he was even thinking, dust kicking up behind him as he sprinted towards the sound. Right, A dry part of his mind drawled, run right into danger. That'll earn you brownie points.
He counted five. Five men, one bleeding and loud, and a child. Oh, he thought belatedly, because the tail and wings didn't exactly go unnoticed. "Hey - stop!" And it was all instinct, a bad and overwhelming urge to protect what was similar in creation to him. His body surged forward before his mind could catch up, thoughts derailing into actions as he seized one of the men's arms and caught a hard fist in the gut. His nails bit into the wrist that he'd seized, and he raised his leg, slamming it hard into the man's knee. Which might have worked more efficiently if he'd been a bit bigger and this man, bulky and broad shouldered and not at all like the others, had been just a bit smaller.
It earned him a few minutes reprise and a death warrant on his head though. The Dust's head whipped around to Nolan, leaking blood and looking more like a creature than a human. In a way, he imagined it was no wonder these humans had attacked, their ways fearful and prejudiced against things they couldn't understand. But that didn't mean that the dragon deserved it. Not anymore than anyone innocent until proven guilty.
"Still have a bit to learn about being inconspicuous, I see," He said to the dragon wryly, "Are you alrigh - "
Nevermind, reprise over. Krinn swore when his collar was grabbed, stumbling forward to meet someones fist. "Now, now, gentlemen," He rasped out, because when you're about to be killed, sarcasm and dry wit is always the best tool to use, "there should still be honor among thieves." Bait and tease. Death warrant signed, He thought grimly to himself. And in retrospect, it wasn't exactly the best situation; a fancy-looking teen in a rundown part of town? His clothing was probably worth more than their annual wage considering Requin's tendencies towards the best, and he knew first hand just how well that went around places like these. It would probably piss the man off if they came back torn.
But it was okay, Krinn supposed, as long as their attention wasn't solely on the dragon child anymore. So he gave them the biggest s**t-eating grin, because come hell or high water, he wasn't going down without a fight.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 9:49 pm
The words his ears picked out at a distance were both alarming and coupled with a strange sense of...relief? He wasn't entirely sure, as he'd never had someone stand up for him once they'd seen him in full -- especially not against a like-minded group of humans as he was surrounded by. Nolan flicked his dark eyes over his assailant's heads just in time to see a grey-haired youth attacked one of them, winding the giant with one swift movement. The dragon's expression slackened a little, more than a little stricken beneath his bloodied and inhuman features; for that moment, that one, perfect span of breath between them, time stood still. Words that rolled deliciously barbed with a certain darkness that he could associate were offered, but before the other could finish, time crashed back into place and the others were already on the move.
Two of the five hesitated to join the others that were now directing their ire at the teenager, and it was these two that Nolan turned his own inner rage. Springing off the broken patio of the shed, he landed heavily against the one closest to him, making the man stumble; he was a lot weightier than he looked. Grabbing his clawed hands around the man's face and sinking them slightly in a neat line that went down the bridge of his nose, he directed the now flailing man towards the nicely dressed male that he would have easily mistaken as a woman if he'd not heard him speak. Pulling back and dragging his claws more so against the man's face to earn a sharp howl, he dug his knees into the man's spine, growling over the human's head to continue their discussion as though the others weren't present at all, "I shouldn't have to be!" The man swatted at him, which was returned with a severe bite to his wrist and another wailing caterwaul. "I'm not like these ugly--"
The second man had seized his tail and pulled, abruptly pulling the words back into the dragon's mouth and doubling his self-righteous wrath at an alarming speed. Nolan pulled his tail up - the other holding fast, as he'd anticipated - and when it sharply lowered, the spikes that lined his back and tail sprung to life, neatly removing the man's pinky when his hand failed to move at the last second. The child's tail swung wildly at the man who was still trying to get a hold of him, lashing against his hands when they got too close to the scaled appendage. It was about that time that the man he was directing about like a donkey had enough sense to grip the dragon's face, trying to find his eyes - and undoubtedly do something very foolish.
Nolan wasn't the type to panic or brook any touch on his person that wasn't without his consent, but the idea that this man might possibly get the upper hand put him in full-throttle instinct mode. He was a child, after all, and a child's mind could scarcely conceive of violence, let alone act out the rage that he was displaying. The dragon dropped his head from the wandering hands and subsequently, his hands, curving them around the man's throat. A backward tug laced the man's neck into ribbons; not enough to tear his jugular, but certainly enough to cause copious amounts of blood to spill from the suddenly stunned-looking man. Nolan rode him to the ground, shoving his face into the dirt with bared teeth and eyes that were almost entirely swallowed by the black of his sclera.
It was about that time that the second man's boot caught him beneath his ribs and right into his sternum, sending the child sailing through the air despite his heft - or perhaps because of it - landing a distance away with limbs sprawled and pain shooting through his shoulder where he landed on it. Winded, Nolan couldn't immediately get up, putting a bloodied hand on the ground and baring his teeth at the man that had kicked him, uttering a sound that was uncomfortably far from human. It seemed enough to give his assailant momentary pause; maybe fighting the two wasn't worth the revenge just then, but it might have been too late. The wounds inflicted earlier upon Nolan's face had healed already, merely indicated by the blood that was drying and flaking away harmlessly. With his body more slowly absorbing the crack down his sternum, it wouldn't be long before he was ready to rend and tear the others into nonexistence.
How dare they, he thought to himself, rage making his irises little more than slits against the black ink of his eyes. He was a dragon. You didn't kick a dragon and live to tell the tale!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2012 9:06 pm
It was an all out struggle, and the Dust couldn't quite keep track of the fast dragon, but he sure as hell heard his voice and saw his work. Unfortunately, Krinn didn't have claws or wings or anything, really, to give him the upper advantage, but then, he wasn't really aiming to kill, and from the scent of blood in the air, the dragon probably was. His attention turned quickly to the men in front of him, both of them plenty taller than him and plenty more muscled as well. The Dust was commonly mistaken as a girl after all, and that wasn't solely for his long hair. Narrowly avoiding a fist to the face, the Dust caught the taller mans ankle with his foot, sending him crashing into the dirt. "Ah," He mused, eyes flicking to the second assailant, who had only just missed his left shoulder with a messily aimed blow, "this is no way to introduce ourselves - "
He caught a kick to the legs and went stumbling, and then there was a man over him, hands wrapping tight around his throat and driving him to the ground. Where the dragon-boy was offensive and violent, the Dust had a more eloquent way of avoiding blows, evasive but not deadly, at least not empty handed. He was good at slipping out of trouble, not with words but literally. He wasn't good at full-out fist fights. Or really, being choked to death. The Dust gagged, nails biting into the man's wrist. His vision specked black, lungs crying out for air - even a creature made from magic needed it to breathe. His left foot winded in, and blindly lashed out, crunching into the man's stomach and cracking something that didn't sound good. He howled, letting go and falling back, and Krinn took that moment to roll over and stand up -
Nolan fell in front of him, carrying a man with a bloodied neck to the ground.
"Wait," He shouted, "No!" If they killed these ******** - not that they didn't deserve it, - the repercussions would be... well. But Krinn didn't have time to help the bleeding man, anymore than the man behind him had any time to care. Hands seized his shoulders, and the Dust found himself in another chokehold, only now he was being ganged up on, and, well, that just wasn't fair. He was spitting up blood by the third blow to his gut, winded and breathless and counting cracked ribs. And his hands fumbled at the assailants chokehold, gripping and growling and cursing all at once. He wasn't a ******** fighter, he couldn't survive in an all out brute battle of strength. He was a slippery little cheat; using everything around him to get the advantage.
His hands began to fumble at the man's body, fingers scrabbling over anything that might hurt, might make him loosen his hold. The blows kept coming though, and it was hard to pay attention to the dragon child and make sure he wasn't dying at that very moment. He was the whole reason that Krinn was in this situation after all. The hilt of something cool pressed up against his palm, and the Dust didn't even have time to think before yanking it forward and driving it back. The man behind him howled in pain, stumbling away to stuff hands over the hole now in his side. The second assailant seemed to think that was a good time to attack, because his fist came from the right, and instinct and months of repetition alone allowed Krinn to miss it by a breadth, catching the mans hand and snapping the wrist backwards to the sound of a satisfying crunch.
Panting, the Dust lifted his hand and hurled the knife as far away as he could. He wasn't exactly a master of combat, and if one of those guys craved to cut him open, he wasn't about to let the knife slip into any of their hands. "The world isn't a fair place," He called to the dragon, remembering their earlier conversation, "whether you should or shouldn't doesn't matter to them." His mismatched eyes caught the stumbling of the man who's wrist he'd cracked in half lash out at him again, and out of clever ideas, all Krinn could retaliate with was a half hearted swat to keep the hand away, maneuvering around the man's bulk - and right into the second ones hands.
And apparently there was more than one knife, or this guy was ******** fast, because something silver caught him in the ribs, sinking into flesh and between bone. Krinn gagged on spit and blood and yanked away, stumbling into the decrepit patio of another house. His fingers fumbled for purchase - because he couldn't stop, wouldn't - and ignoring the searing pain in his side, hauled himself up, tripping backwards as the man followed him. It wasn't a fight; it was just a game of cat and mouse. The Dust avoided the blade aimed at him, and the man pursued him, grin widening as the distance between the end of the patio and them got closer and closer.
Only, Krinn prided himself being smart, and this b*****d obviously was not.
Another dodge, only this time he ducked beneath the others arm and found himself facing the bulk of the others back. A single, light push sent his assailant off the patio, the sound of bone smacking hard metal resonating out in the area. Krinn spent only enough time to make sure he was knocked out and not dead before leaping off the decrepit structure. One down for the count. Krinn turned, steeling himself to deal with another only to realize that the man with the broken wrist had turned tail and fled. Oh, he thought, and pushed his hand to the puncture wound in his side. It was shallow, at least, but damn if it didn't hurt. Coward. Cheat. But that was a hypocritical statement, wasn't it?
The Dust stumbled blindly for the man on the ground, his neck torn and bleeding. It hadn't been deep enough to rip apart the jugular, but it was a lot of blood, and he wasn't surprised to find the man dead beneath his hands when he pushed his fingers to the torn flesh. It was mechanical to close his eyes, it was mechanical to whisper the prayer he was taught to say in honor of the dead, even though he didn't honor this one at all. You deserved this, A part of his mind, cold and isolated, hissed, you asked for this.
It seemed like the two assailants on the dragon's tail seemed to have begun reconsidering, and Krinn pushed himself off of his knees and slid in between them and the boy, his mouth opening into a growl, the sound of thunder and rain. "Leave," He snapped at them, angry and in pain and not interested in dealing with this s**t. "One of yours is already dead because of your s**t actions. So leave."
It wasn't that these two didn't deserve to die either, it wasn't that he didn't think some part of him wanted the dragon to rip them apart too. It was that every action had a consequence, every decision was accompanied by a price. And they were already paying for one death, whether they knew it or not yet.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2012 2:47 pm
He waited. There, on the dirty side of the road, fairly covered in the muck of the land and his own essence, Nolan wheezed in hope for air that didn't hurt, only partially supported on one arm behind the teenager as he chided the humans with eloquence and a dark threat of tone that was so well mastered. Even the hurl of derogatory slang held a rumble that the dragon could feel in his chest, the likes of which actually soothed him in the slightest. He knew well the scent of rain and his senses were overwhelmed by the imagery; rolling, swollen clouds of mottled black and bruised purple, streaking grey in the thinner patches over the cobalt churn of sea, the angry white froth that crashed and clung to the slick crags of the cliff side by his house, the way the desaturated sky painted a darker, lifeless green over the land. The image passed, and Nolan finally understood who - and what - had come to his aid.
The humans were forgotten; if they left or stayed, the dragon no longer cared. Offering a low hiss as he gathered himself to his knees, he crawled on the dirtied grey leggings to the teen's side and intrusively pressed his clawed fingers against the torn fabric of the storm's garments, pushing them aside. Nolan could taste the other's blood in the air, the weight of it on his tongue almost exactly the way that rain smelled: musky, rich, clean. The scent was strong but it didn't smell of acid rain and dirty clouds, and in the way that only Nolan could conceive, he felt that his savior was safe from dying on his behalf. Where his claws had gently touched over the wound, caked in the remnants of his own blood, the teen might find an absence of infection or scar in time, but just then, they were just two bleeding individuals, suffering the bigotry of humankind.
Small sounds of discomfort continued to fall from the child's lips as he struggled to get to his feet, then, the ache and snaps of slivered pain catching up to him now that the fight or flight syndrome had passed. His bloodied lips parted to drink in the air over slightly panted tongue, each draw of breath audible in the pinch of his damaged body. "And what they think," he wheezed through an unnaturally liquid sound in his throat, "doesn't matter to me." And the dragon grinned, all sharp teeth and small flecks of blood. "So here we are." Back at the beginning, square one, not a toe beyond the starting point and no promise of ever being near a finishing line; the humans may have been uncaring and unforgiving of difference, but he was a different animal entirely in more ways than one. He didn't know about forgiveness, understanding, compassion or peace. He knew there was an eye for an eye and if the whole world went blind from it, they'd learn to take some other price instead.
Turning his vaguely lunatic grin to the fallen man, his expression not at all registering that the human had left the mortal coil, Nolan looked neither pleased with himself nor horrified that he'd caused such a pool of blood to form. After all, his own was startlingly absent of the landscape; where he'd fallen and been struck, there were divots in the dirt, but his blood had already dried and crumbled into ash. It was the only interest he gave the fallen man before his attention was inexorably drawn back to the manifestation of storm. "You -- you are amazing." There was conviction there, certainty and fact in the boy's youthful tone. "You're bottle-born, too?" Still laboring for breath, he let his discolored eyes flick over the teenager's form, finding the lithe and almost delicate build to be unusual but appeasing, the soft ethereal skin of a cloud that encompassed the danger within. "I'm Nolan." Another pause for a thick, rattling breath, and his manic grin settled into a small but earnest smile. "Thanks."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 11:52 pm
It hurt.
The Dust pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, the sound from his throat inhuman. His body felt like it had taken on the full brunt of the storm. Thick, bruised blue and purple was beginning to wrap around his neck like a chord, the indentation of fingerprints a reminder of foreign hands searching like they wanted more than just a fight. He growled again, and this time, the sound was thick like a storm front, the howl and hiss of rain. Mottled anger buried itself like a knife inside his gut - how dare they? His hands, bloody and stained, pushed his hair back, a damp, cool wetness bleeding from their tips. It was an innate habit of his, something that simply was and something he did not question.
"Here we are." He returned, tying his long hair into a tight bun. His eyes flickered to the dragon, sharp and concerned and brooding all the while. He was a storm held within fragile skin, a creature of destruction and force built with bones and flesh; a cage. "Are you hurt at all?" He asked. The question in of itself was a joke; of course he was - they were both covered in blood. The Dust shifted, pressing one hand to his side where Nolan had touched. The wound stung, and he gave a low, hollow sound of displeasure. He pushed a hand to his head, his palm cool against the burnt warmth of flesh. "That was rather unprofessional of me." He said caustically, glancing at the body and the men now at the edge of his sight, running even though they would not forget. "I'm sorry, I don't intend to meet all other Dust's like this."
Taking his hand away, the boy turned to stare fully at Nolan, a languid, fragile grace in the way he moved, like there was something feral and dangerous held just in line, riled but controlled, hungry but forced back beneath layers of strained calm. "It might not to you, and it shouldn't, but humans will keep attacking you like that if they're given a reason to." His lips cracked into a soft smile. "Thats the beautiful irony of it all." They were born to protect a race that openly tried to kill them, to hurt them, to oppress what they could not understand. They were a proud, strong race, but they were at the same time so fearful of what they could not understand.
"Amazing?" Krinn glanced back at the other, his expression considering and mildly confused. "No. Not at all. You though - you are rather impressive." As for me, I'm just a cheat. I'm just good at playing the game. The Dust pushed a hand across his mouth, kissing blood from the crevice between his thumb and forefinger absently. It was a pain; he'd gone to such lengths to look presentable for these little wretches, and they'd thrown that into the ground. "I am." He glanced back at Nolan, and offered a hand. "Though a fair bit older than you, I'm sure." He commented quietly. "Have you met others?" It was a question out of curiosity; he'd only met few, and he'd only kept in contact with less than that. Some had disappeared entirely, others... others different than before. Himself included. "I am Krinn." He introduced, giving a slight smile in return.
The storm held itself at bay for now. Wrapped in delicate skin and graceful, predatory features. Though the Dust remembered those men, those faces with ease... and something dark and heavy buried itself inside of him, unwilling to budge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 06, 2012 10:32 am
The echo of his words made the dragon whuffle, a strange low sound of laughter that was more guttural than human. "A little," he responded to the well-meaning question, his clawed fingers idly touching his brow and tracing down to his lip where he'd been hit with the rocks; there were no remnants of the cuts, though the blood was there. Nolan only knew he was still in danger because of the way his lungs felt like they weren't quite filling with air. He didn't really experience fear in the sense of self-preservation, as he knew he could handle himself. He didn't know it from previous happenings, he just...knew. Following Krinn's glance, the boy moved towards the fallen man, lightly pushing against him with his boot. The only response was a wet squelch of blood. "Nothing professional about this," he murmured, though his speech slowed a little on the longer word, still not equipped to use a wide vocabulary yet. Looking over his scaled shoulder to the storm, his eyes lidded and he spoke sincerely. "Maybe you don't meet others like this, but I'm glad you met me like this." Or there may not have been a he to meet later on, if the five humans had overwhelmed him...
Deciding that standing was only making his chest hurt, the dragon squatted down by the body, curling his tail around his feet. The relief of the stretched abdomen coming to rest seemed to help, easing up some of his discomfort. "I exist," Nolan offered with the first seeds of bitterness in his voice, "so they'll always have an excuse." His expression faltered, then, showing the first signs of childish dismay: his already sad expression was made near pitiful at the lift of his brows, the tiredness that seemed to cling to his off-colored eyes. Why couldn't they be as friendly and accepting as Aric and Ziya? Were appearances really that demanding of how society would perceive him? "How did you handle it?" he asked, his tone a little quiet and uncertain. It wasn't like him to ask for help, and this was about as close as he could get. He didn't know what to do -- it wasn't like he could talk to Tesla about it, as her six months of keeping him fully clothed had failed today. That and...he didn't want to hide. It wasn't fair.
Krinn's voice drew him out of his self-pity enough to garner his attention in full, watching the teenager's expression at the exchange. He stood again, then, offering a more controlled smile than before, and infinitely more earnest. Extending a clawed hand, he took Krinn's cool one and gave it a singular, slightly too-tight-in-a-child's-grip shake. "My neighbor is a sand-child, and I've met the lightning. Now I've met..." The dragon tilted his head, trying to taste just exactly what it was this enigmatic wrap of darkness and washed out greys was. "...rain?" That didn't seem quite right, but all his senses were filled with the memory of it and he couldn't quite think around it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 10, 2012 11:12 pm
The rain sighed out, exhaling slowly as though to regain composure. His hands lifted slowly to his shirt, ripped and torn in places. The dragon was right. There was nothing professional about this - nothing clean, smooth. They had a body at their feet and wounds to count in private once they returned to their respective homes. There were hounds at there now, restless dogs that had caught their scent. A shiver pulled at Krinn's spine. The thought dissolved any semblance of composure into rigid fear. Who was going to come after them now? It was a reasonable question. Nolan had been attacked out of little more than fear and hate of the unknown. Now he could only imagine the vendetta held for a fallen friend and a debt to settle that was invisible to anyone but them. "I'm glad too." His lips cracked softly into a smile as he looked over at the other. In the soft light of mid-morning, it was easy to see beads of water condensing on his fingers as he brushed his fingers gently to either side of his face, pushing storm-grey hair away from his eyes. "I imagine my morning wouldn't have been half as productive otherwise."
His lips twisted and he glanced to the side at the words, unsure of how to answer. He remembered Aren and the angelic Dust's sweet words of encouragement. Children were easily influenced, and should he lie to Nolan and keep his words soft? His expression softened into a resigned look that seemed to carry though to his bones and muscles. His shoulders rolled back loosely, he weaved his fingers into his hair, retying the ponytail into a tight knot.
"They will." He smiled ruefully. "I should lie to you. We're born to be save humans after all." He gestured to the body, his tone sardonic. "This our thanks." He dropped his hand back to his body and pulled at the torn fabric. With a low rumble like thunder, he pulled the shirt over his head and discarded it on the ground, wincing. "I hope you don't mind," He told the dragon quietly with grating amusement, "I'm usually more decent than this. But..." His fingers pressed delicately to his abdomen, where a myriad of purple-black bruises were already beginning to bloom. The trick of soothing pain with either rainwater or the cold droplets he could sometimes condense on his hands had been a slow-coming learning curve, and the damp press of fingers to the bruises made him hiss through his teeth. Relief pooled slowly into his gut though, and his shoulders rolled back bonelessly.
"Me?" The question pulled him out of his mind, and his voice crackled like the crackle of thunderstorms in the distance. He considered all of the possible answers for a long moment before slowly pulling his hands away from the bruise. It had lightened somewhat in color, though it was still severe against his pale skin. "I didn't." He acquiesced quietly, glancing at the other. "I fought. And most of the time it didn't end well. I was too stubborn, too prideful, too foolish to back down and hide myself." He laughed humorlessly. "I learned after I grew up. To disguise myself. To ignore comments, and find humans open enough to accept me, and hide me when I needed to disappear." He smiled at the dragon, but it was full of self-loathing. "I know you're expecting a wise answer, and I wish I could give you one. I could tell you to ignore it, to deny your own existence like I did once, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone." He reached out his hands, the back of his fingers brushing gently against Nolan's chest. The cool damp of precipitation was simply meant to alleviate some pain and little more, but he was still unsure if it had any effect on others besides himself. "Just stay close to those that accept you. Protect them, and they'll protect you in return."
He let his hand fall, exhaling quietly. His body moved then, a sinewy, graceful set of steps and movements that seemed almost liquid and boneless. There was an uncanny elegance in the way he executed every physical exertion, a dangerous and sharp exhibition of languid ease that could just as quickly turn to something far worse. "Ziya?" he tilted his head at him as he knelt to examine the body now covered in dirt. "He's a good friend to have. I've not met the sand-child you speak of though." His lips curved into a predatory smile at the guess. The rain. Yes, he liked that. But it didn't sound dangerous enough. Strong enough. Cruel enough. "Close enough." he murmured. "I am the storm." His voice reverberated inhumanly, deepening into a rumble, into the powerful howl of the rain and storm. He turned his eyes back to the body, and gritting his teeth, pushed his hands beneath it and swung it like a potato sack over his shoulder.
"We're going to have to do something about this before we can go home." He said as though explaining, and hummed under his breath, smiling ruefully at the dragon child. "Time to get down and dirty, I suppose."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2013 1:08 pm
"Productive," the dragon echoed, somewhere between bemused and a darker sense of satisfaction. One of the core things Nolan lacked was empathy, which made it hard for him to associate by emotion or experience. He could hear the change in the rain's voice, how the soft drops suddenly became the cold, driving type that hurt the skin when in contact. Dark eyes narrowed a little, mulling over the strange information that was imparted to him. "No point to lie. I already know better." There was a childish pride in the boy's voice, the type that spoke of answering without fully understanding all the implications. "And who's gonna save these guys?" He nudged the fallen man's shoulder with his toe. "Not me. Not ever."
Nolan looked to Krinn as the shirt was removed before smirking a little, spreading his arms to his own bare torso. It wasn't like he minded a lack of clothes, but it seemed the teenager was of the opposite mind of him. A shame, but he'd let it go this once; Krinn did save his life, after all. And to his credit, the child listened; as the teenager spun his tale of his own experience, Nolan took the words to heart, mostly because it was exactly what he himself believed in. "I was expect-ing the truth," he replied in earnest, "that's all. 'sides, we don't owe anyone. I don't care what's expect-ed, I am what I am." He was a dragon. No one else was going to tell him otherwise, not yet. Exhaling slowly as the fingers brushed over his skin, there was a tightness that was alleviated, allowing him to breathe without the rattling liquid sound from before. Smiling at the teen in his lop-sided manner, he declared, "So then I'll protect you, since you've protected me. Fair's fair." And a dragon always pays his debts.
Settling across from Krinn, he was entirely prepared to help carry the body, but it seemed the storm-born was able enough to handle the corpse, earning an appraising and thankful nod of acknowledgement from Nolan. "Hell of a storm," he repeated words he'd heard Tesla use, finding they applied well to this situation. Taking Krinn's free hand, he immediately began to lead the teen towards the distant sea; sure, they might have been able to bury it or throw it down a ravine, but he was still of simple mind, and that lead him to rely on the sea first and foremost. "The sand-child is my neighbor," Nolan said as though they were merely taking a stroll, hand in hand, "and you should meet my woman. She's worth protecting but she can prob'ly protect herself..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
