[ screaming, shouting and especially thrashing would get his talons to squeeze the boy tighter, squeeze the air right out of him and drop his legs closer to the fire. even from how high they are, the heat rises with the gale from his wings with every flap. ]
Is that what you want?!
[ he pulls him back up, and expects silence as he unravels one more stream of fire into the streets. he will not have a brainwashed sacrifice tell him what he should do on his own time. in the dragon’s head, he was saving him. he was giving to everyone what they deserved. he was saving his own pride and future, most of all.
the sky, once blue and bright with sun, becomes a dirty mist of dirt and ash, black and dense brown, heavy and nearly unbreathable. the clouds of smog block out the rays of light, and all that’s left is eren’s mark: be free or be dead.
he could hear some people shriek why as they still breathe. we did everything! we gave you a sacrifice! the only thing that the dragon shouts as he ascends with the winds and circles his way into the direction he wished to go is a rebellious shriek in return.
he stops, and glides away after that, with the boy still clutched in his talons and toward another cliff he had made a nest in. especially for one like him, who jumped from place to place and could never keep still to one, having many resting points was viable. he drops the boy near stone, where weeds grew, in front of another cave he slithers back into.
without a word. he’s so angry he had the energy to bring even this mountain top down. he only didn’t have the size, nor the strength to do it. perhaps it’s what irrationally frustrates him more. ]
[The squeezing of the claws hurt his rather squishy body. He coughs from the air being squeezed out of his lungs, and his bones strain not to crack under the strength of it. But he still tries to yell that yes, yes that's what he wants. He wants him not to murder everyone he knows, thank you very much.]
Y-Yes! Please stop!
[But it's clear his cries are falling on deaf ears. He keeps it up, until the air becomes so thick with smoke that he instead starts having coughing fits. By the time the dragon finally flies away back to his new nest, the boy has grown silent and limp in his claws. Part from lack of air, and part from despair.
When he is dropped, he hits the ground unceremoniously. His wings look injured, being the most delicate part of his body. But that's barely noticeable with the pain he feels inside his chest. He's coughing from all the smoke and ash, made only worst by the sobbing that's not coming out uncontrollably.
It takes him awhile to find the air to speak. Honestly, his voice is small and hoarse now: too much screaming and smoke damage. ]
That was everyone I ever knew... my father's grave was there... my shrine to my mother... y-you torched it all... y-you made me watch!
[He squeezes his eyes shut as another bout of tears come forth. He sobs. This really isn't the behavior of someone whose been "saved".]
[ the dragon doesn’t understand it as he listens from inside the darkness of the new cave. he doesn’t understand what’s so important about graves when the life is gone to begin with. the value of a shrine when his personal beliefs only revolve around his own liberty. ancestors were shadows meant to surpass, and honor only comes for the living.
he had no parents to relate with; he hatched one day and simply fell out of the nest when the she-dragon felt it fit to leave him alone. the strongest survive. if you’re too weak, you’re better off gone, and nature does that for you.
humans were much too sheltered, this boy was. gooey like molasses and he hisses with repulsion. he hisses with disgust when all that’s flapping out of this boy’s mouth was how horrible this was, that he wanted to die. he was used and still wants to do their bidding. what.
a god damn waste of time and energy. he can’t believe it. he can’t believe what he’s hearing! eren’s confused. he’s irascible. he doesn’t even know what to say without it just being screams.
another offense that rings so loudly in his earholes that anger almost allows him the will to do it. silence stretches for longer periods, until, in his own breaths, the dragon responds deadpan and growling between his words. ]
No wonder they sent you, slave. [ he just. needs to be alone as he was meant to and this sort of whining aggravates his already seething brain. ] Go away.
[He's not surprised the dragon lacks any empathy in his words. He just destroyed an entire village because he was offended. He made him watch- taunted him when he begged for it to stop.
He hated this dragon. The heedless? they should've called him the Abomination, the Cruel. And now that he was expecting him to just walk away is just...]
And go where? That was the only village in the region. I'd never make it alive to the next.
[it was a several day's ride- and that was if you had a horse. He was on foot, with no supplies, no direction, and wilderness full of monsters. And even if by some miracle he did make it, they'd never accept him after what happened here. He got his entire village killed - they'd likely stone him to death.
He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to still himself]
I'm dead no matter what, thanks to you. So at least give me the freedom to choose how to die.
[ the huff the dragon makes wouldn’t be complete if it didn’t sound like he was laughing at this. mess.
he doesn’t understand. he doesn’t understand he doesn’t get why and, what’s worse! the more he can hear him, the more there’s a little voice in his head whispering doubts to his thoughts.
did he make the right call? was really caring about the freedom of these villages worth it it when the humans were dead from the start? he shouldn’t have cared so much to begin with. or wasn’t he just caring about himself? they’d never understand.
he hated the boy. ]
No one’s stopping you.
[ they are, in fact, at the edge of a cliff. why was he still talking to this runt, though? it made him want to drag his claws down his face. nothing’s stopping him either, from leaving. he could leave right now to another cliff, and be rid of him.
but the dragon’s pride, already wounded, keeps him from taking one more blow. he was a dragon, this was his world to roam, and he would stand the ground that pleased him. ]
[He hears that huff, and it sounds like a laugh. After everything, it enrages him enough that he feels compelled to do something completely reckless.
He pulls himself up. His body hurts and protests the move, but the anger manages to power his weak muscles. He picks up a stone that's on the ground. Nothing special, just an ordinary stone.
And he chucks it, right in the directly he saw the dragon's head. He's not even sure if it'd hurt those scales, but in his temper, he doesn't care]
I said I wanted you to kill me! You made this mess, y-you selfish and stupid lizard! You fix it!
You act like you're better, but you're stupid to figure out how to change things without torching places and now you're sulking, aren't you!?
[He takes a deep breath. His body is trembling with fear. This is suicide. Mouthing off to a dragon is suicide. But...that's what he wanted, right? And the rage was still fueling him]
You're just a SLAVE to your dumb dragon impulses, aren't you!? So go ahead and finish the job!
[ all that there is, after all shouting was done, is silence. the rock hits his snout with a thwunk before bouncing toward the stone walls, perhaps the only thing that causes him to bark. the word slave echoes so loudly that he can’t make much sense of the rest of the insults.
they didn’t really matter.
the dragon abruptly comes bursting out of the cave afterwards, for a few seconds appearing as if he’s darting for the boy with his snout agape, the back of his throat burning red like coals and his spinal membranes in a flaring, colorful display— he cries out like thunder, his tail lashing out in a smack against the stoney earth, the cliff side, chipping off stone and cracking the surface they stood on. he does this repeatedly, roar after roar. he tears the cliff’s edge apart with each stomp into it. he thrashes, he causes an uproar, but for not even a second does he touch the boy.
it cracks further, becoming unstable for anyone with legs against a crumbling surface. the dragon’s neck swerves to the boy on last time, his nostrils repulsing the human’s smell with ribbons of smoke. ]
I’ll do what I want, you—!!
[ CRACK, goes the floor beneath their feet, like bones breaking.and it fissures upward, enough that his attention looks up and follows the crack. cracks.
ah. and there follows the rumbling. he fuckin broke this side of the mountain. like literally broke. breaking. (rock avalanche) ]
[As the dragon bursts out of the cave, the boy's insides tremble with fear. Here it comes, he thinks to himself. The ending, he said something that struck a nerve with the dragon, and now he would die.
Except, none the attacks hit him. No, he's hitting everything around it in his fury, but he clearly keeps missing him. And the way he was moving around...it reminded him of the children he'd sometimes watch. The little ones, who could only express their negative feelings through crying and tantrums.
This dragon was throwing a temper tantrum. And still failing to kill him. So he yells again]
Oh really?! How can you be free if you can't think beyond your impulses?! You're just a slave to your own--
[but he gets cut off by the floor beneath them BREAKING. He loses his footing, getting knocked down the mountain. His wings flap out, trying to catch him, but without knowing how to fly the most they can do is slow the fall as he starts to fall with the avalanche.
He yells out, trying to reach for something out of instinct. This is it, he thinks. He should be relieved, but yet he's still filled with terror that makes him scream as he falls]
perhaps it was the shock of the entire cliffside cracking under the weight of his fury that keeps the dragon at a standstill. he doesn’t move the way he should, he doesn’t flee— he only watches the sound of fissuring rock grow louder and louder up the peak, following the lines until they release the stone sliding.
one slab breaks apart into many on the first impact they take, and it’s too late for the dragon to spread his wings and fly. it’s what he does, a tremendous wingspan that tripled his size. the rocks, of course, hit them, some sharp and tearing the membranes that kept him aloft in the air, other bludgeoning his bones. they’re all coming too fast and too have, with his legs losing footing and unable to help in preserving the ground under them that was once a surface. it gives away, and they fall.
the dragon cries out, taking most, of not the extreme bulk of damage without even meaning to. he hated this boy, but there was something that still bled in his heart, in his core, if he were to open his eyes and find him dead. it would mean everything was in vain, that the boy got what his brainwashed mind wanted, and what’s worse— got eren to do it for him.
and one quick look into the terror in his eyes showed full well what the dragon had suspected: he didn’t truly want to die. he couldn’t suffer another blow like this to his pride, and his honor that still lives. he couldn’t.
the dragon reaches out with his tattered wing hook and wraps it over whatever he could see of the boy, pulling his wing to his chest— and from there, he can’t remember the rest. a boulder hits his skull, the protective plates from his horns too underdeveloped to give him strong enough protection to stay awake. once they hit the ground and dust disperses—
the dragon is half covered in stone, hurt and passed out in a pile of debris. at least the boy was safer than he was.
[It all happened so fast. One moment he was preparing for his own death. He wasn't about to survive an avalanche or this fall, not with wings that he didn't know how to use. He was terrified, and deep down he didn't want to die, but this was the only choice he had wasn't it? A quick death now instead of a slow brutal one later.
But then, he's denied that as the dragon grabs him with his wing and shields him from the debris, even while taking most of the hits himself.]
W-What're you-
[He is confused and surprised by the move. Why? Why was this dragon saving him? He already destroyed everything meager thing the boy had in his life, had insured he'd die no matter what - why did he insist on saving him?! On keeping him alive?! Was this some twisted torture game?
It's not like the dragon could answer though. Since as they land on the ground, it's very clear that the dragon has passed out even with him still wrapped up in the wing. The boy has another fit of coughing from the dust that the avalanche kicked up, but for the most part, he's okay besides damaged wings.]
This day keeps getting worse and worse...
[With nothing else to do, he starts climbing and wiggling out of that wing hold he was in, moving slowly until he finally pries himself free. Stumbling out onto the ground, he glances back to see yep- that sure is a unconscious and half covered dragon. It looked like it was still breathing...which, he wasn't sure how to feel about that. There's a moment where he feels bad, before he reminds himself that this dragon brought this on himself.]
Not that he'd ever admit it, toddlers are more mature. [He mutters to himself with a huff. He looks away from the dragon, trying to get an idea of where they landed. It looked like the start of the forest, at the foot of the mountains. He was more familiar with the part of the forest that laid close to his village, but...
Just as he started wondering what he was supposed to do? His wrist starts erupts into a sharp burning pain. He winces, making a surprised pain sound. He looks at his wrist, and stares wide eye as a tattoo starts to form ]
[ pebbles and smaller debris roll and creak from their place as the dragon breathes. it’s shallow, the larger stones weigh down on his chest and certainly makes it harder to inflate his lungs the way he needed to.
for now, his breaths are short, silent and uneven. his jaws remain slightly agape and his tongue rolls out lifelessly, hanging between his teeth and— lo and behold, if the boy were to look . . . the same mark burns into the middle of his pointed tongue.
the dragon’s left wing if folded, injured but doable. now his right . . . his right was in an unnatural angle, a stone crushing it against more debris. he doesn’t know what’s going on, and the first thing to show signs of movement is his third eyelid, sliding open and revealing to eren a world that refuses to stand still.
he only groans, and for now stays still, half-conscious and only afterwards beginning to stir under the mess he’s caught in. he might’ve . . . seen the boy? upside down? his head hurts and he can’t feel his claws.
you know, a part of him even has to ask himself again: just what did you think you were doing?
maybe he needed to dream, but he fights his body’s growing urge to slip away, regardless. he grunts, and his claws twitch— but soon enough he’s out like a light again. (the tongue, though, keeps moving around more. it burns). ]
[The boy had been staring in growing horror at the mark forming on his wrist. He knew exactly what kind of mark it is: a soulmate mark. He remembered his parents' mark clearly, the only couple with marks in the whole village. His mother had explained to him with such warmth and happiness. And the day she was sacrificed, his father's had burned his skin and rendered his arm useless.
But why...why was it showing up now? Of all places, with all things?
When the dragon moves, the boy's attention immediately goes to it- wondering if the foul beast would wake. And while he's looking he catches sight of his tongue- a tongue that now had the same mark that was growing on his wrist.]
What? What...curse is this?
[His soulmate was this wretched dragon? This monster? This...this was even worse than never finding your soulmate.
He's tempted to yell at the dragon more, to demand what draconic magic he's cast on him to cause this- but the dragon yet again passes out again. it only really registers then that the dragon is badly hurt from the fall.
A few moments ago, he might've been tempted to leave the dragon to succumb to his wounds, but...he glances at the mark on his wrist. If this was a true soulmate mark, then the dragon dying would probably cost him his hand. Which would only make his chances of finding a quick way to die even worse.
...Ugh.
He hates this, but he takes a deep breath and approaches the dragon. Reaching out, he'll put his hand on the scales of the dragon. Concentrating what magic he had, he starts singing- though weakly since his voice was still hoarse.
As he sings, there's a glowing light, and slowly, the magic starts to take effect. The dragon's injuries start to heal up, slowly but surely. Likely he doesn't have enough power to heal an entire dragon in one go, but it was a start. ]
[ it might take a while for the dragon to wake up again. at most there’re are only drowsy grumbles, occasionally batting away at the boy he only say as a blurry shadow before falling still once more. any touches he does feel in and out of conscious earns growls. lips lift to show what he can of his fangs, his curled wing folding even closer to his belly. that’s all the energy he has.
there was something he’d keep dreaming about. some other dragon-like beast, defeating the heedless until he could no longer use his tattered wings or walk on his broken bones and shattered horns. he could hardly move. he was bleeding, but there was always a little bundle of something tucked away under his wing. he couldn’t move, but his heart pounded like a warrior’s, with resolve to live and fight for the bundle like he would his very own freedom.
the little bundle was his freedom.
the mark speaks to eren, but he doesn’t know what it means. in all honesty, the next time he opens his eyes— he hardly remembers what it was that he dreamt of. he just— aches, his wing aches. the headache and superficial bruises underneath scales that took more bludgeoning damage are healed. he was. he was strong enough to take it, obviously (he’s still mildly flabbergasted that he did). the first thing that comes to mind, though, in a jolt, is to look under the left, curled wing.
he dreamed there was something . . . important . . . there. ]
[ when scents begin to prickle at his snout and awaken him further, he realizes. the boy. the dumb, stupid boy wasn’t under there, and when he shifts to stand in a small rush—
he cries out terribly, snapping his neck back to the perpetrator: boulders crushing his right wing into that grotesque angle, and in the shock . . . reacting like any trapped, oversized animal would.
it’s not a good idea, all this moving around and screaming. but he’s trapped, his tongue burns (nothing ever burns on him, he doesn’t even know the feeling other than this is really weird and uncomfortable), he feels like he’s lost something still riding out the emotions of a dream, and he’s alone, or so he thinks.
[The boy had been taking a break when the dragon started to stir. Healing a dragon was no easy task, especially when the creature was already pinned under rocks he was too small to move.
This...this was not a good situation to be in, every way the boy looked at it, it was bad. Just what did he do to deserve all this?
But before he can get too deep into his despairing thoughts, the dragon starts freaking out. Great. this again.
the boy quickly stands up and tries to approach him. ]
H-Hey, calm down! You'll bring the mountain down on us again!
[ if anything, the streaking pain up the finer bones of his wing is what makes him stop and heave his breaths. the boy comes in at close second. it hurts, so much, that he hangs his head, eyes wide and too hyped up on adrenaline to show any other emotion. ]
What’re you— still doing here?
[ if he had found a way out from under him, he should’ve . . . been on his way. he should’ve been left alone out here, he would’ve done much better.
(his heart beats so hard against his chest though, that he feels it twist into his belly with nerves. there was something about the boy’s presence that kept him on edge. the dream kept him on edge— that’s right. not this boy). ]
[Well, at least that makes him stop. He breathes a sigh of relief. Good. Not another avalanche crashing down on them. The boy could live with that.
And at that question...he hesitates. He could say the truth, about the mark on his wrist- but that might be dangerous information to reveal at this moment.
Instead, he goes for another truth]
I-I told you, you destroyed the only town in this whole region. If I went by myself, I'd die before I reached the next town. By lack of supplies or by some monster eating me. [he glances off to the side] Rather unpleasant way to go.
[ okay— alright, fine. an earlier, raging dragon would’ve talked back to him right at that instant, but. his wing is broken, it’s broken and trying to move earlier has made him feel sick to his stomach. the world’s spinning again and he’s unintentionally hyper focused. he needs to find a way to . . .
between panting and the select sound of whimpering between his teeth, the dragon lifts his head to scrape his horns under the larger stone. it takes a few tries, but soon enough hooking under it to throw it off is a success. it rolls away, but.
he won’t be flying for a really long time. what’s worse, he needs to put it back in place before it sticks that way. just. give himself a minute. to breathe, to recollect, and to realize what he’s talking about. speaking of dying out there— well, sure, there were land dragons who survived, and the dragon himself survived the ground when he was young . . .
he’ll have to go on foot, but keep his attention tripled. a lot of things take advantage of the injured and weakened. ]
You have a stick. [ that long thing he carried around with him up there. he uses “stick” for lack of better wording, but it seemed intricate. ] For someone who wanted to die by monster, [ if dragon’s could shrug, he would, but he ends up simply ruffling his good wing and laying down to rest in a way where he turns his neck away from him. disinterest.
he doesn’t care.
he does keep knocking his teeth together, making clattering noises, his tongue only now feeling normal. ]
[He watches the dragon struggle with the stones. Even if he was inclined, there's little a human could do to help him out, with each of these rocks being nearly his own size if not bigger. He had no choice but to watch.]
A staff. My mother's. [He corrects, knowing the dragon won't care. But notably, he doesn't have it with him anymore] It...probably got crushed in the avalanche.
[He swallows, trying not to make it show how much that thought upsets him. This dragon doesn't care. This is a monster that cares nothing but about himself.]
I want to die quickly, and only because I don't have a choice. [He gives an annoyed click of the tongue] It's easy for you to say "survive" when you're a dragon. The only threat to you is yourself, from the looks of it.
[He gives a pointed look at the avalanche remains. Yeah. You brought this on yourself mister]
There's no way a human could make it to the next region all alone. And even if I did by some miracle? I'd probably get stoned to death for causing the death of my village.
No matter what I do, I'm gonna die. And since you caused this mess, I want you to take some responsibility for it.
[ why, the dragon starts thinking as he rolls his head into the inside of his wing in a groan, much like how one would hold their temples. why does he complain so much.
it takes, in turn, another lengthy pause for the dragon to start back at him. ]
They brought it upon themselves. [ that’s it, that’s the answer. ] You did, too. The minute you went with their plan.
[ he’s still plenty bitter about that, and the fact that it actually sours him up to such a degree he has to question himself again as to why he actually cared so much. he finds his answer in it’s not about humans, but his reasoning is ever drastic anyway. ]
— Can you make up your mind? Do you want to live or die?
[I don't know dragon maybe you destroying his home had something to do with it.]
I had to. [he says coldly in defense of himself. No, he hadn't been happy about the elders' plan. But there'd been no choice] And maybe if you had stopped after the elders who made that choice, I'd be willing to think you had a point. But you didn't. No one can learn their lesson if they're all dead.
[No one will know what destroyed the village as no one got out alive. At most, when word catches up to the other villages far away, they'll just think it's a mad rampaging dragon. Nothing more.
He pauses for a moment, glancing away.]
Of course I want to live. But I don't have a way to.
[ as far as the dragon was concerned, he burned the elders, the mills where slavery was born, and . . . maybe a few extra houses out of his own raging spite.
but that’s not the point. ]
You shouldn’t be different from me if that’s really what you want. [ of course there are ways! it’s as obvious as fighting for your life! that’s always. how it is. the dragon then, with a hiss, turns his attention to his twisted wing. he had to fix that— and so he will.
finishing with any necessary steeling, the dragon stretches the broken wing out as much as he can, the longest webbed finger pointing up instead of down. shit, this is. going to hurt.
after a few trembling breaths, he does the only thing he can to help himself: ram the flattened space of his skull and horns down against it, and snapping it back into place. it’s still ugly, and swollen and it leaves him screaming painfully, sharper than any scream he’s given.
if dragon’s could cry, he would cry, and now only lays his head down against the ground and blinks, a lot. ]
. . . I’ll take you to wherever it is you want to go. As long as you fight to live.
[ he just sounds mildly tired now, and— in agreement that maybe he should do something to put this boy on the right path. ]
[-Easy for you to say, he's about to say. But then the dragon goes and does that to his wing. Not only is it disturbing to see, but the scream hurts his ears enough to wince. Even if it was a dragon, it was very clear that it was a scream of pain.
Compulsively, he moves back over to the dragon, kneeling down near his head. He reaches out and puts his hands on his skin. The wrist tattoo is now very visible on his skin, even if he's not thinking about it. ]
Shh...easy now.
[He'll start singing quietly, and yet again, the glowing begins and wounds start to mend. At the very least, it'll take an edge off the pain. ]
[He keeps the singing up for awhile, trying his best to heal as much as he can. This spell really wasn't made for something dragon sized, but it doesn't seem to stop him.
Finally when he's done, when he can't keep the spell going anymore, he'll stop the singing and lower his hands away, back in his lap.
He's quiet for a pause, and the silence hangs heavy between them. Was he going to explain why he did that? No...probably not. Instead, he'll try to respond to what the dragon said before.]
...Even if that was what I wanted, I can't be like you. Humans can't do most of the things dragons can do. We're much more...fragile.
[To put it lightly. Dragons were much more powerful than a human could ever hope to be. That's why human villages were so quick to bow to their will, most humans had no chance facing off against one.
And that offer...was that a real offer? He pauses, and admits feebly]
I'm...not sure where I'd go. I've never been outside this region.
[He didn't know the rest of the world. There was no one waiting for him anywhere]
[ hi fantasy operator yeah i’d like to ask what the fuck is happening, there is a smol bean healing me.
the dragon does as any beast in pain does. when the boy approaches, he lifts his lip, narrows his eyes and growls. he’s hurt and it’s instinct— don’t do anything to me. fear, can you believe that? even if he’d never admit it. when he becomes so bold as to touch him, it escalates into a sharp snarl, maintains the growl, but— he doesn’t move, he simply thinks it’s enough to get him to back off. until the boy sings.
when he sings, and his wing feels warm, the pain seeming to slip off his scales like water. it’s still there, but . . . why he was no longer so hurt when he woke up makes sense now. and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.
the dragon only remains there, wide eyed and just as confused as he’ll ever be. green-blue eyes go to the boy, observes him, then to their surroundings (it’s best to never let your guard down), then back to the boy. he sees the mark, uncertain of what it means— and when it’s all over, he doesn’t know where to begin, lifting his head to check the damaged wing. it’s not fit for flying, and it most definitely will need to be saved if they walk, but. it hurts far less.
how does he. what does he say now. ]
None of you would’ve survived if you were so fragile. [ even though he thought, well, they were plenty squishy, too much for his taste. alas, there’s a reason why they still managed to stick around. ]
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no subject
Is that what you want?!
[ he pulls him back up, and expects silence as he unravels one more stream of fire into the streets. he will not have a brainwashed sacrifice tell him what he should do on his own time. in the dragon’s head, he was saving him. he was giving to everyone what they deserved. he was saving his own pride and future, most of all.
the sky, once blue and bright with sun, becomes a dirty mist of dirt and ash, black and dense brown, heavy and nearly unbreathable. the clouds of smog block out the rays of light, and all that’s left is eren’s mark: be free or be dead.
he could hear some people shriek why as they still breathe. we did everything! we gave you a sacrifice! the only thing that the dragon shouts as he ascends with the winds and circles his way into the direction he wished to go is a rebellious shriek in return.
he stops, and glides away after that, with the boy still clutched in his talons and toward another cliff he had made a nest in. especially for one like him, who jumped from place to place and could never keep still to one, having many resting points was viable. he drops the boy near stone, where weeds grew, in front of another cave he slithers back into.
without a word. he’s so angry he had the energy to bring even this mountain top down. he only didn’t have the size, nor the strength to do it. perhaps it’s what irrationally frustrates him more. ]
no subject
Y-Yes! Please stop!
[But it's clear his cries are falling on deaf ears. He keeps it up, until the air becomes so thick with smoke that he instead starts having coughing fits. By the time the dragon finally flies away back to his new nest, the boy has grown silent and limp in his claws. Part from lack of air, and part from despair.
When he is dropped, he hits the ground unceremoniously. His wings look injured, being the most delicate part of his body. But that's barely noticeable with the pain he feels inside his chest. He's coughing from all the smoke and ash, made only worst by the sobbing that's not coming out uncontrollably.
It takes him awhile to find the air to speak. Honestly, his voice is small and hoarse now: too much screaming and smoke damage. ]
That was everyone I ever knew... my father's grave was there... my shrine to my mother... y-you torched it all... y-you made me watch!
[He squeezes his eyes shut as another bout of tears come forth. He sobs. This really isn't the behavior of someone whose been "saved".]
Just kill me now...please. Get it over with.
no subject
he had no parents to relate with; he hatched one day and simply fell out of the nest when the she-dragon felt it fit to leave him alone. the strongest survive. if you’re too weak, you’re better off gone, and nature does that for you.
humans were much too sheltered, this boy was. gooey like molasses and he hisses with repulsion. he hisses with disgust when all that’s flapping out of this boy’s mouth was how horrible this was, that he wanted to die. he was used and still wants to do their bidding. what.
a god damn waste of time and energy. he can’t believe it. he can’t believe what he’s hearing! eren’s confused. he’s irascible. he doesn’t even know what to say without it just being screams.
another offense that rings so loudly in his earholes that anger almost allows him the will to do it. silence stretches for longer periods, until, in his own breaths, the dragon responds deadpan and growling between his words. ]
No wonder they sent you, slave. [ he just. needs to be alone as he was meant to and this sort of whining aggravates his already seething brain. ] Go away.
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He hated this dragon. The heedless? they should've called him the Abomination, the Cruel. And now that he was expecting him to just walk away is just...]
And go where? That was the only village in the region. I'd never make it alive to the next.
[it was a several day's ride- and that was if you had a horse. He was on foot, with no supplies, no direction, and wilderness full of monsters. And even if by some miracle he did make it, they'd never accept him after what happened here. He got his entire village killed - they'd likely stone him to death.
He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to still himself]
I'm dead no matter what, thanks to you. So at least give me the freedom to choose how to die.
[He wanted all this over quickly.]
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he doesn’t understand. he doesn’t understand he doesn’t get why and, what’s worse! the more he can hear him, the more there’s a little voice in his head whispering doubts to his thoughts.
did he make the right call? was really caring about the freedom of these villages worth it it when the humans were dead from the start? he shouldn’t have cared so much to begin with. or wasn’t he just caring about himself? they’d never understand.
he hated the boy. ]
No one’s stopping you.
[ they are, in fact, at the edge of a cliff. why was he still talking to this runt, though? it made him want to drag his claws down his face. nothing’s stopping him either, from leaving. he could leave right now to another cliff, and be rid of him.
but the dragon’s pride, already wounded, keeps him from taking one more blow. he was a dragon, this was his world to roam, and he would stand the ground that pleased him. ]
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He pulls himself up. His body hurts and protests the move, but the anger manages to power his weak muscles. He picks up a stone that's on the ground. Nothing special, just an ordinary stone.
And he chucks it, right in the directly he saw the dragon's head. He's not even sure if it'd hurt those scales, but in his temper, he doesn't care]
I said I wanted you to kill me! You made this mess, y-you selfish and stupid lizard! You fix it!
You act like you're better, but you're stupid to figure out how to change things without torching places and now you're sulking, aren't you!?
[He takes a deep breath. His body is trembling with fear. This is suicide. Mouthing off to a dragon is suicide. But...that's what he wanted, right? And the rage was still fueling him]
You're just a SLAVE to your dumb dragon impulses, aren't you!? So go ahead and finish the job!
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they didn’t really matter.
the dragon abruptly comes bursting out of the cave afterwards, for a few seconds appearing as if he’s darting for the boy with his snout agape, the back of his throat burning red like coals and his spinal membranes in a flaring, colorful display— he cries out like thunder, his tail lashing out in a smack against the stoney earth, the cliff side, chipping off stone and cracking the surface they stood on. he does this repeatedly, roar after roar. he tears the cliff’s edge apart with each stomp into it. he thrashes, he causes an uproar, but for not even a second does he touch the boy.
it cracks further, becoming unstable for anyone with legs against a crumbling surface. the dragon’s neck swerves to the boy on last time, his nostrils repulsing the human’s smell with ribbons of smoke. ]
I’ll do what I want, you—!!
[ CRACK, goes the floor beneath their feet, like bones breaking.and it fissures upward, enough that his attention looks up and follows the crack. cracks.
ah. and there follows the rumbling. he fuckin broke this side of the mountain. like literally broke. breaking. (rock avalanche) ]
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Except, none the attacks hit him. No, he's hitting everything around it in his fury, but he clearly keeps missing him. And the way he was moving around...it reminded him of the children he'd sometimes watch. The little ones, who could only express their negative feelings through crying and tantrums.
This dragon was throwing a temper tantrum. And still failing to kill him. So he yells again]
Oh really?! How can you be free if you can't think beyond your impulses?! You're just a slave to your own--
[but he gets cut off by the floor beneath them BREAKING. He loses his footing, getting knocked down the mountain. His wings flap out, trying to catch him, but without knowing how to fly the most they can do is slow the fall as he starts to fall with the avalanche.
He yells out, trying to reach for something out of instinct. This is it, he thinks. He should be relieved, but yet he's still filled with terror that makes him scream as he falls]
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perhaps it was the shock of the entire cliffside cracking under the weight of his fury that keeps the dragon at a standstill. he doesn’t move the way he should, he doesn’t flee— he only watches the sound of fissuring rock grow louder and louder up the peak, following the lines until they release the stone sliding.
one slab breaks apart into many on the first impact they take, and it’s too late for the dragon to spread his wings and fly. it’s what he does, a tremendous wingspan that tripled his size. the rocks, of course, hit them, some sharp and tearing the membranes that kept him aloft in the air, other bludgeoning his bones. they’re all coming too fast and too have, with his legs losing footing and unable to help in preserving the ground under them that was once a surface. it gives away, and they fall.
the dragon cries out, taking most, of not the extreme bulk of damage without even meaning to. he hated this boy, but there was something that still bled in his heart, in his core, if he were to open his eyes and find him dead. it would mean everything was in vain, that the boy got what his brainwashed mind wanted, and what’s worse— got eren to do it for him.
and one quick look into the terror in his eyes showed full well what the dragon had suspected: he didn’t truly want to die. he couldn’t suffer another blow like this to his pride, and his honor that still lives. he couldn’t.
the dragon reaches out with his tattered wing hook and wraps it over whatever he could see of the boy, pulling his wing to his chest— and from there, he can’t remember the rest. a boulder hits his skull, the protective plates from his horns too underdeveloped to give him strong enough protection to stay awake. once they hit the ground and dust disperses—
the dragon is half covered in stone, hurt and passed out in a pile of debris. at least the boy was safer than he was.
has he mentioned? he hated this boy. ]
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But then, he's denied that as the dragon grabs him with his wing and shields him from the debris, even while taking most of the hits himself.]
W-What're you-
[He is confused and surprised by the move. Why? Why was this dragon saving him? He already destroyed everything meager thing the boy had in his life, had insured he'd die no matter what - why did he insist on saving him?! On keeping him alive?! Was this some twisted torture game?
It's not like the dragon could answer though. Since as they land on the ground, it's very clear that the dragon has passed out even with him still wrapped up in the wing. The boy has another fit of coughing from the dust that the avalanche kicked up, but for the most part, he's okay besides damaged wings.]
This day keeps getting worse and worse...
[With nothing else to do, he starts climbing and wiggling out of that wing hold he was in, moving slowly until he finally pries himself free. Stumbling out onto the ground, he glances back to see yep- that sure is a unconscious and half covered dragon. It looked like it was still breathing...which, he wasn't sure how to feel about that. There's a moment where he feels bad, before he reminds himself that this dragon brought this on himself.]
Not that he'd ever admit it, toddlers are more mature. [He mutters to himself with a huff. He looks away from the dragon, trying to get an idea of where they landed. It looked like the start of the forest, at the foot of the mountains. He was more familiar with the part of the forest that laid close to his village, but...
Just as he started wondering what he was supposed to do? His wrist starts erupts into a sharp burning pain. He winces, making a surprised pain sound. He looks at his wrist, and stares wide eye as a tattoo starts to form ]
- W-What?
[Is this...? No way. No flipping way]
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for now, his breaths are short, silent and uneven. his jaws remain slightly agape and his tongue rolls out lifelessly, hanging between his teeth and— lo and behold, if the boy were to look . . . the same mark burns into the middle of his pointed tongue.
the dragon’s left wing if folded, injured but doable. now his right . . . his right was in an unnatural angle, a stone crushing it against more debris. he doesn’t know what’s going on, and the first thing to show signs of movement is his third eyelid, sliding open and revealing to eren a world that refuses to stand still.
he only groans, and for now stays still, half-conscious and only afterwards beginning to stir under the mess he’s caught in. he might’ve . . . seen the boy? upside down? his head hurts and he can’t feel his claws.
you know, a part of him even has to ask himself again: just what did you think you were doing?
maybe he needed to dream, but he fights his body’s growing urge to slip away, regardless. he grunts, and his claws twitch— but soon enough he’s out like a light again. (the tongue, though, keeps moving around more. it burns). ]
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But why...why was it showing up now? Of all places, with all things?
When the dragon moves, the boy's attention immediately goes to it- wondering if the foul beast would wake. And while he's looking he catches sight of his tongue- a tongue that now had the same mark that was growing on his wrist.]
What? What...curse is this?
[His soulmate was this wretched dragon? This monster? This...this was even worse than never finding your soulmate.
He's tempted to yell at the dragon more, to demand what draconic magic he's cast on him to cause this- but the dragon yet again passes out again. it only really registers then that the dragon is badly hurt from the fall.
A few moments ago, he might've been tempted to leave the dragon to succumb to his wounds, but...he glances at the mark on his wrist. If this was a true soulmate mark, then the dragon dying would probably cost him his hand. Which would only make his chances of finding a quick way to die even worse.
...Ugh.
He hates this, but he takes a deep breath and approaches the dragon. Reaching out, he'll put his hand on the scales of the dragon. Concentrating what magic he had, he starts singing- though weakly since his voice was still hoarse.
As he sings, there's a glowing light, and slowly, the magic starts to take effect. The dragon's injuries start to heal up, slowly but surely. Likely he doesn't have enough power to heal an entire dragon in one go, but it was a start. ]
(1/2)
there was something he’d keep dreaming about. some other dragon-like beast, defeating the heedless until he could no longer use his tattered wings or walk on his broken bones and shattered horns. he could hardly move. he was bleeding, but there was always a little bundle of something tucked away under his wing. he couldn’t move, but his heart pounded like a warrior’s, with resolve to live and fight for the bundle like he would his very own freedom.
the little bundle was his freedom.
the mark speaks to eren, but he doesn’t know what it means. in all honesty, the next time he opens his eyes— he hardly remembers what it was that he dreamt of. he just— aches, his wing aches. the headache and superficial bruises underneath scales that took more bludgeoning damage are healed. he was. he was strong enough to take it, obviously (he’s still mildly flabbergasted that he did). the first thing that comes to mind, though, in a jolt, is to look under the left, curled wing.
he dreamed there was something . . . important . . . there. ]
(2/2)
he cries out terribly, snapping his neck back to the perpetrator: boulders crushing his right wing into that grotesque angle, and in the shock . . . reacting like any trapped, oversized animal would.
it’s not a good idea, all this moving around and screaming. but he’s trapped, his tongue burns (nothing ever burns on him, he doesn’t even know the feeling other than this is really weird and uncomfortable), he feels like he’s lost something still riding out the emotions of a dream, and he’s alone, or so he thinks.
he’s freaking out. ]
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This...this was not a good situation to be in, every way the boy looked at it, it was bad. Just what did he do to deserve all this?
But before he can get too deep into his despairing thoughts, the dragon starts freaking out. Great. this again.
the boy quickly stands up and tries to approach him. ]
H-Hey, calm down! You'll bring the mountain down on us again!
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What’re you— still doing here?
[ if he had found a way out from under him, he should’ve . . . been on his way. he should’ve been left alone out here, he would’ve done much better.
(his heart beats so hard against his chest though, that he feels it twist into his belly with nerves. there was something about the boy’s presence that kept him on edge. the dream kept him on edge— that’s right. not this boy). ]
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And at that question...he hesitates. He could say the truth, about the mark on his wrist- but that might be dangerous information to reveal at this moment.
Instead, he goes for another truth]
I-I told you, you destroyed the only town in this whole region. If I went by myself, I'd die before I reached the next town. By lack of supplies or by some monster eating me. [he glances off to the side] Rather unpleasant way to go.
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between panting and the select sound of whimpering between his teeth, the dragon lifts his head to scrape his horns under the larger stone. it takes a few tries, but soon enough hooking under it to throw it off is a success. it rolls away, but.
he won’t be flying for a really long time. what’s worse, he needs to put it back in place before it sticks that way. just. give himself a minute. to breathe, to recollect, and to realize what he’s talking about. speaking of dying out there— well, sure, there were land dragons who survived, and the dragon himself survived the ground when he was young . . .
he’ll have to go on foot, but keep his attention tripled. a lot of things take advantage of the injured and weakened. ]
You have a stick. [ that long thing he carried around with him up there. he uses “stick” for lack of better wording, but it seemed intricate. ] For someone who wanted to die by monster, [ if dragon’s could shrug, he would, but he ends up simply ruffling his good wing and laying down to rest in a way where he turns his neck away from him. disinterest.
he doesn’t care.
he does keep knocking his teeth together, making clattering noises, his tongue only now feeling normal. ]
Survive.
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A staff. My mother's. [He corrects, knowing the dragon won't care. But notably, he doesn't have it with him anymore] It...probably got crushed in the avalanche.
[He swallows, trying not to make it show how much that thought upsets him. This dragon doesn't care. This is a monster that cares nothing but about himself.]
I want to die quickly, and only because I don't have a choice. [He gives an annoyed click of the tongue] It's easy for you to say "survive" when you're a dragon. The only threat to you is yourself, from the looks of it.
[He gives a pointed look at the avalanche remains. Yeah. You brought this on yourself mister]
There's no way a human could make it to the next region all alone. And even if I did by some miracle? I'd probably get stoned to death for causing the death of my village.
No matter what I do, I'm gonna die. And since you caused this mess, I want you to take some responsibility for it.
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it takes, in turn, another lengthy pause for the dragon to start back at him. ]
They brought it upon themselves. [ that’s it, that’s the answer. ] You did, too. The minute you went with their plan.
[ he’s still plenty bitter about that, and the fact that it actually sours him up to such a degree he has to question himself again as to why he actually cared so much. he finds his answer in it’s not about humans, but his reasoning is ever drastic anyway. ]
— Can you make up your mind? Do you want to live or die?
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I had to. [he says coldly in defense of himself. No, he hadn't been happy about the elders' plan. But there'd been no choice] And maybe if you had stopped after the elders who made that choice, I'd be willing to think you had a point. But you didn't. No one can learn their lesson if they're all dead.
[No one will know what destroyed the village as no one got out alive. At most, when word catches up to the other villages far away, they'll just think it's a mad rampaging dragon. Nothing more.
He pauses for a moment, glancing away.]
Of course I want to live. But I don't have a way to.
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but that’s not the point. ]
You shouldn’t be different from me if that’s really what you want. [ of course there are ways! it’s as obvious as fighting for your life! that’s always. how it is. the dragon then, with a hiss, turns his attention to his twisted wing. he had to fix that— and so he will.
finishing with any necessary steeling, the dragon stretches the broken wing out as much as he can, the longest webbed finger pointing up instead of down. shit, this is. going to hurt.
after a few trembling breaths, he does the only thing he can to help himself: ram the flattened space of his skull and horns down against it, and snapping it back into place. it’s still ugly, and swollen and it leaves him screaming painfully, sharper than any scream he’s given.
if dragon’s could cry, he would cry, and now only lays his head down against the ground and blinks, a lot. ]
. . . I’ll take you to wherever it is you want to go. As long as you fight to live.
[ he just sounds mildly tired now, and— in agreement that maybe he should do something to put this boy on the right path. ]
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[-Easy for you to say, he's about to say. But then the dragon goes and does that to his wing. Not only is it disturbing to see, but the scream hurts his ears enough to wince. Even if it was a dragon, it was very clear that it was a scream of pain.
Compulsively, he moves back over to the dragon, kneeling down near his head. He reaches out and puts his hands on his skin. The wrist tattoo is now very visible on his skin, even if he's not thinking about it. ]
Shh...easy now.
[He'll start singing quietly, and yet again, the glowing begins and wounds start to mend. At the very least, it'll take an edge off the pain. ]
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Finally when he's done, when he can't keep the spell going anymore, he'll stop the singing and lower his hands away, back in his lap.
He's quiet for a pause, and the silence hangs heavy between them. Was he going to explain why he did that? No...probably not. Instead, he'll try to respond to what the dragon said before.]
...Even if that was what I wanted, I can't be like you. Humans can't do most of the things dragons can do. We're much more...fragile.
[To put it lightly. Dragons were much more powerful than a human could ever hope to be. That's why human villages were so quick to bow to their will, most humans had no chance facing off against one.
And that offer...was that a real offer? He pauses, and admits feebly]
I'm...not sure where I'd go. I've never been outside this region.
[He didn't know the rest of the world. There was no one waiting for him anywhere]
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the dragon does as any beast in pain does. when the boy approaches, he lifts his lip, narrows his eyes and growls. he’s hurt and it’s instinct— don’t do anything to me. fear, can you believe that? even if he’d never admit it. when he becomes so bold as to touch him, it escalates into a sharp snarl, maintains the growl, but— he doesn’t move, he simply thinks it’s enough to get him to back off. until the boy sings.
when he sings, and his wing feels warm, the pain seeming to slip off his scales like water. it’s still there, but . . . why he was no longer so hurt when he woke up makes sense now. and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.
the dragon only remains there, wide eyed and just as confused as he’ll ever be. green-blue eyes go to the boy, observes him, then to their surroundings (it’s best to never let your guard down), then back to the boy. he sees the mark, uncertain of what it means— and when it’s all over, he doesn’t know where to begin, lifting his head to check the damaged wing. it’s not fit for flying, and it most definitely will need to be saved if they walk, but. it hurts far less.
how does he. what does he say now. ]
None of you would’ve survived if you were so fragile. [ even though he thought, well, they were plenty squishy, too much for his taste. alas, there’s a reason why they still managed to stick around. ]
What’d you do that for?
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