[He corrects him, but he'll follow along. He does his best to try to keep up, though it's very apparent that he keeps trailing behind. His legs were on the smaller side for human standards, so he was tiny compared to the dragon- making it so he has to move at a quick pace just to keep up.
Sometimes when the dragon looks back, the boy will look pretty winded. While he had to walk a lot in his village, he really wasn't used to this kind of travel.
As it gets darker, he only starts to trail behind even more. He's tired and a human's night vision is terrible without any light sources. He is close enough to catch the sound of that stomach, even if he isn't sure what it is]
- What was that?
[He's looking around, trying to see if it was some beast in the forest - even if it was too dark for his eyes to possibly spot anything used to night hunting.]
[ it isn’t as if the dragon can get too fast, especially once the spell that removed his pain wears off. it wears off and it wears off good, to the point that the dragon can no longer keep the shuddering to maintain weight on his wings at bay. eventually, he drops, and reluctantly, he vocally objects, curling his tail around him and folding his wings to his sides.
luckily, there’s water nearby, and he drags himself at least enough to extend his neck to the edge, back purposely facing the boy.
he’s trying to maintain as much distance as possible, but there’s something that pokes at his chest when he does. he doesn’t like it. ]
Just— Go find some tree to sleep in.
[ his voice sounds strained and tired more than anything. with an addition to hunger . . . his stomach gurgles again, and to mask the sound— he hacks up a cough to clear his throat. he’s searching for some fish, but, with brutal honestly: he actually sucks at hunting. ]
[The boy doesn't comply. Not after witnessing a sight like that, with the dragon collapsing and dragging himself to the water. It's a little hard to watch, seeing a creature that's definitely suffering. Sure, it's not a creature the boy particularly likes, but...
Well, he's always been softhearted.
So instead he walks up alongside the dragon, until he's next to the stream. He kneels down and cups his hands to get his own drink of water. Then he watches the dragon, it doesn't seem like he's drinking, but rather....]
[ his belly has become a vicious snarling beast on its own. he tries to sort of— scoot himself away when the boy comes, and before he could answer . . .
he bolts his face into the water, snapping his jaws, once, twice. his snout only comes up drenched.
the fish are gone. ]
I’m fishing.
[ pointedly not mention that he’s trying because attempts are weak! ]
[He watches that attempt happen and "Trying" is definitely the word for it. Surprisingly, the boy knew something of fishing. He wasn't the best fisherman in the village, but his father had taught him things. Things he had used to feed himself, as demi-humans like himself were often left to fend for themselves.
The dragon's attempts? Make it pretty clear why the dragons in the village stories preferred livestock and other bigger animals. Those jaws weren't agile or quick enough to pluck out a fish.]
Pretty sure that won't work...you're making too much commotion.
[He tries to think of what to do instead. He didn't have any nets or traps on him, his favorite way to fish. It'd take too long to construct a make-shift one too. Nor did he have a fishing rod or fishing spear on him...]
Hmmm ... if only I had something like a knife, I could probably make a spear and get fish that way. [He glances over at the dragon.] any ideas?
darkness from the night begins to shroud them, and his eyes adapt. but with the night comes its chill, and to stay away, the dragon lifts himself only to stream a short line of fire under him, scorching grass and stone, and laying right on top of it. drier weeds catch the flames and burn a deep light— the boy can use that.
as for the question. the beast tilts his head and brings in closer to one of his hind legs, where he scratches and scrapes and the scales closer to his horns. thin and sharp, the old ones chip off, some full scales, and fall to the ground. shedding the usual way a still growing dragon would. ]
You have your stick. [ and before he corrects him, the dragon does instead. ] Staff. What else do you need if you have magic?
[Possibly. At least he didn't voice that you were too slow!!
Oh hey, he can actually see now. He gives a nod of appreciation as his eyes adjust to the dim light from the fire. It's enough light so he sees the dragon move to scrape off some of his scales. Stepping over, he bends down and examines the scales, picking one that looks sharp and big enough. That should do]
Thanks. [He moves back towards the stream, kneeling down and setting his staff on the ground so he can untie his hair from the ribbon he's been using. The red hair falls just around his shoulders as he starts to tie the scale to the bottom end of the staff - making a makeshift spear]
Magic wouldn't be as effective in this case. It'd either take too long to cast, or damage the fish so much there wouldn't be enough fish left to eat.
[Finishes tying the spear, he'll show it to the dragon]
Fair warning, it's been awhile since I've done it this way so it might take a few tries.
[ ??? is the sound that comes out (yes, question marks can totally just be sounds) once the boy picks up the scale and actually. he actually gets to work. ]
I.
[ that’s what he can say before he goes quiet again, because he didn’t do anything. not consciously wanting to help him out, but. (should he have?)the dragon can’t huff or grunt about being productive, but he does find himself silently watching as he does. he’s almost impressed to see him put it together. it’s also a little intriguing to see his scales attached to a stick.
right, he’s going to. double-take his attention to the water again. he still needed fish for himself. ]
[He's not sure why the dragon seems so confused. Has he never seen a spear before..? Dragons were weird.]
When I wanted fish? Usually I'd use a net or a trap. But those take much longer to make.
[He pulls off his shoes and rolls up his pants, getting up to start wading into the water. Fortunately, it's not too deep or rapid. He carries the spear with him, holding it in the ready position that his father taught him]
Hmmm...
[he's quiet as he watches himself, waiting for movement. When he thinks he sees something? He stabs his spear in with a little "ha!"
The first time? It was just a stick, not a fish.
The second time? It's a fish, but he's too off. The third is similar.
However with the fourth, he makes a "yes!" as he pulls out his staff/spear - a flopping fish impaled on the end]
Got one! Here-
[He pulls the dying fish off his blade and offers it out to the dragon. Eat up boy]
the dragon attempts another jab at a fish that flits away from the second try, and with an irritated murr, the dragon’s drenched snout pulls up empty handed again. a sting of jealousy makes his heart jump when he sees the boy, the boy, actually got a fish before him.
before him.
and the first thing he does is hand it over. how much weirder can he get (humans were weird)? ]
. . . What’re you doing? [ that’s not how nature works— he’s not some hatchling that needed to be mouth fed either, so he isn’t. sure as to what he’s entailing here, although “here” gives him a small hint. ] You caught it, it’s yours.
The boy meanwhile keeps holding out the fish for him. He knows fully well this dragon just isn't equipped to catch fish on his own, so it only makes sense to do the fishing for him. Humans, even demi-humans, were social creatures. They looked out for their group]
You need it more than I do. It's fine, I'll catch one for myself later.
[ this is slightly embarrassing, and reluctance does hit during the first few moments of fish holding. the dragon turns his head sideways, like a child who didn’t want to accept the spoon, not in the slightest. fish wasn’t even on his usual diet.
but anything is when you’re hungry, and he hasn’t had a proper meal in a while. sometimes he’d go days without full livestock in his claws. it takes the whole day just for him to hunt.
his stomach squeals. he has to eat, though. knocking the fish out of his hands with his snout, the dragon swallows it whole.
. . . he’s still hungry but he’s not going to say anything. not when he was just actually given fish, by choice. instead, he chooses to turn his attention away, but in his head, lords. it’s a storm. either way, when he looks back to him, and back to the water—
he tries to sound more gentle, but it still doesn’t shake off how brash he is with words. ]
[Well, at least he ate it. The boy can't help but smile a little in relief when he does, not that he's aware that he's doing so.
He's not surprise the dragon is embarrassed. An apex predator, the top of every food chain - being hand fed by a small human. It had to be demeaning to such a proud beast.
But also, he's not dumb enough to assume that a dragon will be full on one fish]
After a few more for you, okay? I have to cook mine, so it makes sense to get it last.
[And he steps back further into the river, again looking for fish. It's a moment before he speaks again.]
...Your jaws aren't made for catching fish. They're better at catching larger land prey, so they're not fast and nimble enough to catch a fish. [Its said in an explaining tone- not meant to be demeaning.] It's easier for a human to do it.
[ it won’t stop him from continuing to “catch fish”, anyway! as illustrative as the explaination was, sitting still would be like saying . . . he was right. he was totally right that he couldn’t catch fish. please, do all the work. he knows how hard hunting is.
and if he couldn’t catch one, his resoluteness as a dragon was meaningless. just because it was easier for him, all fish and thanks considered— it didn’t mean it was impossible for him. he just had to use his head, like with the creation of the knife stick.
a little dismissive but not outright brash in execution, he speaks up, hangs his head in a hover over the surface, and while he’s there’s, he observes how the human does it. ]
[Maybe it was a dragon thing, or just a this dragon thing. And even if it's not his intention, the words do come out harsh and brash. And after a day of them, when the boy is trying hard to get both of them dinner...]
Jeez, you sure like to give lots of commands. [Another stab into the water! He lifts his makeshift spear up with another fish] You first. When I sit down to cook mine, I won't want to get up again. So I'm saving mine for last.
[He holds out another fish for the dragon. Eat up you brash lizard]
but, the right words have been said for him to consider that this was more an issue of desire rather than wanting to take some sort of . . . lead, and feed him.
it’s hard. it’s extremely hard for a dragon like him. others had dragoons, they had interactions with their subjects and perhaps some more with humans, whether it be to aid or terrorize. the boy’s wish was to rest and do no more. he had the free will to, and the dragon certainly did command a lot.
after another similar silence, like the last (but with far less rejection), he takes the fish, swallows it whole, and snaps a little here and there for a fish of his own.
[The boy isn't sure what he did to make the dragon go quiet, but at least he'll accept the fish. He'll even take the silence, giving him a chance to focus on his own fishing. After a few more fish fed (or attempted to be fed) to the dragon, he'll finally find his own to eat and pull himself out of the river.
And immediately shiver because holy crap are his feet cold from being soaking wet. Quickly he rushes over to the fire, crouching down to warm himself and muttering to himself as he does so about how cold it is. The muttering seems to be more to himself, he doesn't expect the dragon to care. Partly because of who the dragon was and partly because...well, concern for his well being's been hard to come by since his father passed. That was just the way of things.
His own wings try to wrap around him as a protective cloak- opened up at the part that's facing the fire. It feels nice. Maybe not comfortable like a kitchen fire, but still nice. He holds his spear tip over the fire, letting the fish cook.
It's awhile before he speaks up towards the dragon]
[ he eats what’s given to him, but no talk during. to his luck and profound determination— he manages to tear a fish’s tail clean off. before he can get to the upper half, a larger fish steals it away from him, causing the dragon to scorch the river’s surface, and rest for the rest of the evening.
for some reason, he throw’s the fish’s tail near the boy, and leaves it at that. correct, he doesn’t quite respond to any muttering, verbally— the shine of his eyes only watch him move and sit, until it’s time for him to drop his head down between a spot between his chest and wing, eyes and horns sticking out from behind the flap.
a name was something he never had, beyond heedless. ]
No.
[ short but subdued.
the fish is never going to cook that way— so he gives it an extra push, a burst, before hiding away into his wings again. ]
[He shouldn't be surprised the dragon keeps at it even when he tells him he can't. The dragon doesn't listen and is very stubborn. He gives a worried look when he tries to scorch the river, but at least the fire is contained and doesn't spread.
He's...not sure why he throws the fish tail at him, only eying it before returning to his own cooking.
No name huh? ]
Oh. [...] Me neither.
[It's not entirely true, he's had names before. But one hadn't been used since the day his father died, and the other that was given by the village...
Well, it didn't feel right having it be uttered now. It wasn't like he was very attached to it anyway. "Canary", they had called him. It was...demeaning.
His fire brightens, thanks to the dragon. It'll cook the fish faster. He gives a look back, seeing that he's already hiding away in those wings. He's quiet for a moment, trying to sort out what to say.
[ is the tail a trophy to prove he’s done it? Is it for the boy? (both, but he didn’t say anything so we’ll never know)
but the oddness in that has the dragon opening his eyes from rest. humans always had names. adults named their offspring, that much he knew, and expressively, his eyes even seem to squint and curve the way brows do.
did he ever want a name? he didn’t like the mass one that was given, which wasn’t particularly a good name to start. it had a frightening ring to it— if he were larger. just seeing a dragon in his size with a name like that was almost. equally belittling. ]
[Humans did love giving names, it was a quirk of their species possibly. But more than that, there was a certain power that came with having a name given by someone else. Magic worked better if there was a name, for one.
Plus, if he was going to be traveling with this dragon for awhile, it felt wrong just to keep thinking of him as "the dragon", like he was just a creature rather than an individual. It's that soft heart of the boy's yet again]
Hmm... [He has to think on the name. A name that'd be suited for a dragon. Maybe something from the ancient legends?
Finally, he comes up with a suggestion]
Erebus?
[An ancient and nearly forgotten god from a long lost civilization. One born from chaos and personified the darkness ... but not evil, notably]
[ erebus. it takes longer for the dragon to return to him by voice— the name intertwines and loops through everything he feels he is. the name has power. the name gives power, and unbeknownst to them— it locks the dragon onto him, setting up a lock to the bind that branded their fate.
he feels something with it, among it, satisfaction. contentment that he doesn’t remember ever finding himself feeling unless he’s engorging himself. erebus. the dragon lifts his head away from his wings, unsure if it’s gratitude he’s feeling or curiosity, or what— but it was something good. he straightens his posture and flutters his wings. his eyes are wide, but not from shock— perhaps from deep realization too primal for him to translate.
he just knew that this was his name. ]
I’m Erebus.
[ he takes the name, with pride, and seals his fate. but after a beat, he shuffles enough that his body faces the boy’s. he’s at least, now, not making an effort to reject him. he’s cautious of course, his wings still protect his sides and he doesn’t approach him. facing the person who found his name, who even fed him, deserved, at the very least, his attention.
(he forgets that he’s tied to him by other means) ]
[he watches the dragon tentatively, half-expecting the dragon to reject the name or insult it. He finds himself surprised when instead, the dragon accepts the name and reacts so positively. The acceptance is so deep that the boy can feel the magic resonate around it, in a way he's never felt a name resonate before.
Was this...a true name? He had heard the term before while studying magic, but he always had been skeptical of such a thing. ]
Erebus.
[he repeats the name, and it just feels right for this dragon. No other name would possibly do. Not for his dragon, he thinks without fully realizing the meaning.
And now it seems Erebus was giving him his attention. He hesitates at the question]
...She did. But it started losing power the day my father died. It could only be used for a spell or two more before it's become so weak I start to forget it.
[His mother had never intended it to be a true name, or a long lasting name. She wanted him to find his own path, his own identity. It had survived longer thanks to his father's love, but that was all.
Still, he didn't want to forget the name, so he'd been careful with it.]
[ both of them dead, huh. erebus felt it natural, his own parents could be alive or dead, he’d just never know.
the fact of the matter was that the boy didn’t have a name either, and silence stretches around them like the chills of a frigid winter. you’d think he had forgotten they were speaking, or ignoring him once more.
but for one, he doesn’t take his eyes off the boy. this goes on until moments seem like cycles, until it felt like if the sun was around, it would’ve hovered halfway across the sky by now. it was enough time for the fish to cook and for him to eat everything to the thin bones, all of that time used to search the meanings that dragonian had taught him. ]
Eleos.
[ compassion. clemency. benevolence. he doesn’t voice its meaning, but it fits like the stick he walks around with. ]
[When it had fallen silent, the boy had assumed it was the end of it. He felt...slightly disappointed, in a way that he couldn't exactly place why. Was he hoping Erebus would name him like he did for him? He's not sure why he would, he seemed to care little for human customs.
So the boy returns to tending to his fish. He cooks it to when it looks done and pulls it from the fire. Picking at it and eating what meat he could get. It was a far cry from the meals he'd cook himself back in the village and access to actual cooking supplies, but for a hungry man it was feast enough. He consumes it all without complaint, down until there's nothing but bits of scales and thin bones, which he tosses into the forest to be something else's meal.
He was just trying to figure out his sleeping arrangements when the dragon spoke.
Eleos.
The boy stops in mid-thought. Despite it being so long since they seemingly ended their conversation, he didn't need to ask for context. He knew right away that it was his name. It sinks into him, weaving into his identity so seamlessly. Canary, what the villagers had called him, suddenly seemed like a childish insult than any name. Even the name his mother gave him, it now felt like an endearing childhood nickname. Sweet and a name he'd respond to, but not his real name.]
My name is Eleos.
[He says out loud in an awed tone. It felt so right. So much so that he doesn't realize the oddity - a demi-human going by a name from the language meant only for dragons and gods. Nor does he realize that accepting the name is sealing his own fate, causing that tattoo on his wrist to subtly become more intricate- more permanent.
No, all he could focus on was that he had a name. A true name. All his earlier skepticism had been diminished. He understood what it meant now. The power of such a name.]
Thank you, Erebus.
[Eleos puts his hand to his chest, and there's an unmistakable note of warm gratitude in his voice. ]
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[He corrects him, but he'll follow along. He does his best to try to keep up, though it's very apparent that he keeps trailing behind. His legs were on the smaller side for human standards, so he was tiny compared to the dragon- making it so he has to move at a quick pace just to keep up.
Sometimes when the dragon looks back, the boy will look pretty winded. While he had to walk a lot in his village, he really wasn't used to this kind of travel.
As it gets darker, he only starts to trail behind even more. He's tired and a human's night vision is terrible without any light sources. He is close enough to catch the sound of that stomach, even if he isn't sure what it is]
- What was that?
[He's looking around, trying to see if it was some beast in the forest - even if it was too dark for his eyes to possibly spot anything used to night hunting.]
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[ it isn’t as if the dragon can get too fast, especially once the spell that removed his pain wears off. it wears off and it wears off good, to the point that the dragon can no longer keep the shuddering to maintain weight on his wings at bay. eventually, he drops, and reluctantly, he vocally objects, curling his tail around him and folding his wings to his sides.
luckily, there’s water nearby, and he drags himself at least enough to extend his neck to the edge, back purposely facing the boy.
he’s trying to maintain as much distance as possible, but there’s something that pokes at his chest when he does. he doesn’t like it. ]
Just— Go find some tree to sleep in.
[ his voice sounds strained and tired more than anything. with an addition to hunger . . . his stomach gurgles again, and to mask the sound— he hacks up a cough to clear his throat. he’s searching for some fish, but, with brutal honestly: he actually sucks at hunting. ]
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Well, he's always been softhearted.
So instead he walks up alongside the dragon, until he's next to the stream. He kneels down and cups his hands to get his own drink of water. Then he watches the dragon, it doesn't seem like he's drinking, but rather....]
Are you trying to fish?
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he bolts his face into the water, snapping his jaws, once, twice. his snout only comes up drenched.
the fish are gone. ]
I’m fishing.
[ pointedly not mention that he’s trying because attempts are weak! ]
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The dragon's attempts? Make it pretty clear why the dragons in the village stories preferred livestock and other bigger animals. Those jaws weren't agile or quick enough to pluck out a fish.]
Pretty sure that won't work...you're making too much commotion.
[He tries to think of what to do instead. He didn't have any nets or traps on him, his favorite way to fish. It'd take too long to construct a make-shift one too. Nor did he have a fishing rod or fishing spear on him...]
Hmmm ... if only I had something like a knife, I could probably make a spear and get fish that way. [He glances over at the dragon.] any ideas?
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darkness from the night begins to shroud them, and his eyes adapt. but with the night comes its chill, and to stay away, the dragon lifts himself only to stream a short line of fire under him, scorching grass and stone, and laying right on top of it. drier weeds catch the flames and burn a deep light— the boy can use that.
as for the question. the beast tilts his head and brings in closer to one of his hind legs, where he scratches and scrapes and the scales closer to his horns. thin and sharp, the old ones chip off, some full scales, and fall to the ground. shedding the usual way a still growing dragon would. ]
You have your stick. [ and before he corrects him, the dragon does instead. ] Staff. What else do you need if you have magic?
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Oh hey, he can actually see now. He gives a nod of appreciation as his eyes adjust to the dim light from the fire. It's enough light so he sees the dragon move to scrape off some of his scales. Stepping over, he bends down and examines the scales, picking one that looks sharp and big enough. That should do]
Thanks. [He moves back towards the stream, kneeling down and setting his staff on the ground so he can untie his hair from the ribbon he's been using. The red hair falls just around his shoulders as he starts to tie the scale to the bottom end of the staff - making a makeshift spear]
Magic wouldn't be as effective in this case. It'd either take too long to cast, or damage the fish so much there wouldn't be enough fish left to eat.
[Finishes tying the spear, he'll show it to the dragon]
Fair warning, it's been awhile since I've done it this way so it might take a few tries.
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I.
[ that’s what he can say before he goes quiet again, because he didn’t do anything. not consciously wanting to help him out, but. (should he have?)the dragon can’t huff or grunt about being productive, but he does find himself silently watching as he does. he’s almost impressed to see him put it together. it’s also a little intriguing to see his scales attached to a stick.
right, he’s going to. double-take his attention to the water again. he still needed fish for himself. ]
How else did you eat?
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When I wanted fish? Usually I'd use a net or a trap. But those take much longer to make.
[He pulls off his shoes and rolls up his pants, getting up to start wading into the water. Fortunately, it's not too deep or rapid. He carries the spear with him, holding it in the ready position that his father taught him]
Hmmm...
[he's quiet as he watches himself, waiting for movement. When he thinks he sees something? He stabs his spear in with a little "ha!"
The first time? It was just a stick, not a fish.
The second time? It's a fish, but he's too off. The third is similar.
However with the fourth, he makes a "yes!" as he pulls out his staff/spear - a flopping fish impaled on the end]
Got one! Here-
[He pulls the dying fish off his blade and offers it out to the dragon. Eat up boy]
no subject
the dragon attempts another jab at a fish that flits away from the second try, and with an irritated murr, the dragon’s drenched snout pulls up empty handed again. a sting of jealousy makes his heart jump when he sees the boy, the boy, actually got a fish before him.
before him.
and the first thing he does is hand it over. how much weirder can he get (humans were weird)? ]
. . . What’re you doing? [ that’s not how nature works— he’s not some hatchling that needed to be mouth fed either, so he isn’t. sure as to what he’s entailing here, although “here” gives him a small hint. ] You caught it, it’s yours.
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The boy meanwhile keeps holding out the fish for him. He knows fully well this dragon just isn't equipped to catch fish on his own, so it only makes sense to do the fishing for him. Humans, even demi-humans, were social creatures. They looked out for their group]
You need it more than I do. It's fine, I'll catch one for myself later.
[take the fish]
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but anything is when you’re hungry, and he hasn’t had a proper meal in a while. sometimes he’d go days without full livestock in his claws. it takes the whole day just for him to hunt.
his stomach squeals. he has to eat, though. knocking the fish out of his hands with his snout, the dragon swallows it whole.
. . . he’s still hungry but he’s not going to say anything. not when he was just actually given fish, by choice. instead, he chooses to turn his attention away, but in his head, lords. it’s a storm. either way, when he looks back to him, and back to the water—
he tries to sound more gentle, but it still doesn’t shake off how brash he is with words. ]
Now get your own.
[
THANKS ]
no subject
He's not surprise the dragon is embarrassed. An apex predator, the top of every food chain - being hand fed by a small human. It had to be demeaning to such a proud beast.
But also, he's not dumb enough to assume that a dragon will be full on one fish]
After a few more for you, okay? I have to cook mine, so it makes sense to get it last.
[And he steps back further into the river, again looking for fish. It's a moment before he speaks again.]
...Your jaws aren't made for catching fish. They're better at catching larger land prey, so they're not fast and nimble enough to catch a fish. [Its said in an explaining tone- not meant to be demeaning.] It's easier for a human to do it.
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[ it won’t stop him from continuing to “catch fish”, anyway! as illustrative as the explaination was, sitting still would be like saying . . . he was right. he was totally right that he couldn’t catch fish. please, do all the work. he knows how hard hunting is.
and if he couldn’t catch one, his resoluteness as a dragon was meaningless. just because it was easier for him, all fish and thanks considered— it didn’t mean it was impossible for him. he just had to use his head, like with the creation of the knife stick.
a little dismissive but not outright brash in execution, he speaks up, hangs his head in a hover over the surface, and while he’s there’s, he observes how the human does it. ]
Eat next or I won’t.
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Are you always this dramatic?
[Maybe it was a dragon thing, or just a this dragon thing. And even if it's not his intention, the words do come out harsh and brash. And after a day of them, when the boy is trying hard to get both of them dinner...]
Jeez, you sure like to give lots of commands. [Another stab into the water! He lifts his makeshift spear up with another fish] You first. When I sit down to cook mine, I won't want to get up again. So I'm saving mine for last.
[He holds out another fish for the dragon. Eat up you brash lizard]
no subject
but, the right words have been said for him to consider that this was more an issue of desire rather than wanting to take some sort of . . . lead, and feed him.
it’s hard. it’s extremely hard for a dragon like him. others had dragoons, they had interactions with their subjects and perhaps some more with humans, whether it be to aid or terrorize. the boy’s wish was to rest and do no more. he had the free will to, and the dragon certainly did command a lot.
after another similar silence, like the last (but with far less rejection), he takes the fish, swallows it whole, and snaps a little here and there for a fish of his own.
he doesn’t say anything else after that. ]
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And immediately shiver because holy crap are his feet cold from being soaking wet. Quickly he rushes over to the fire, crouching down to warm himself and muttering to himself as he does so about how cold it is. The muttering seems to be more to himself, he doesn't expect the dragon to care. Partly because of who the dragon was and partly because...well, concern for his well being's been hard to come by since his father passed. That was just the way of things.
His own wings try to wrap around him as a protective cloak- opened up at the part that's facing the fire. It feels nice. Maybe not comfortable like a kitchen fire, but still nice. He holds his spear tip over the fire, letting the fish cook.
It's awhile before he speaks up towards the dragon]
...Do you have a name I can call you by?
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for some reason, he throw’s the fish’s tail near the boy, and leaves it at that. correct, he doesn’t quite respond to any muttering, verbally— the shine of his eyes only watch him move and sit, until it’s time for him to drop his head down between a spot between his chest and wing, eyes and horns sticking out from behind the flap.
a name was something he never had, beyond heedless. ]
No.
[ short but subdued.
the fish is never going to cook that way— so he gives it an extra push, a burst, before hiding away into his wings again. ]
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He's...not sure why he throws the fish tail at him, only eying it before returning to his own cooking.
No name huh? ]
Oh. [...] Me neither.
[It's not entirely true, he's had names before. But one hadn't been used since the day his father died, and the other that was given by the village...
Well, it didn't feel right having it be uttered now. It wasn't like he was very attached to it anyway. "Canary", they had called him. It was...demeaning.
His fire brightens, thanks to the dragon. It'll cook the fish faster. He gives a look back, seeing that he's already hiding away in those wings. He's quiet for a moment, trying to sort out what to say.
...]
Should I give you a name?
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but the oddness in that has the dragon opening his eyes from rest. humans always had names. adults named their offspring, that much he knew, and expressively, his eyes even seem to squint and curve the way brows do.
did he ever want a name? he didn’t like the mass one that was given, which wasn’t particularly a good name to start. it had a frightening ring to it— if he were larger. just seeing a dragon in his size with a name like that was almost. equally belittling. ]
Depends on what it is.
[ his question comes later. ]
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Plus, if he was going to be traveling with this dragon for awhile, it felt wrong just to keep thinking of him as "the dragon", like he was just a creature rather than an individual. It's that soft heart of the boy's yet again]
Hmm... [He has to think on the name. A name that'd be suited for a dragon. Maybe something from the ancient legends?
Finally, he comes up with a suggestion]
Erebus?
[An ancient and nearly forgotten god from a long lost civilization. One born from chaos and personified the darkness ... but not evil, notably]
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he feels something with it, among it, satisfaction. contentment that he doesn’t remember ever finding himself feeling unless he’s engorging himself. erebus. the dragon lifts his head away from his wings, unsure if it’s gratitude he’s feeling or curiosity, or what— but it was something good. he straightens his posture and flutters his wings. his eyes are wide, but not from shock— perhaps from deep realization too primal for him to translate.
he just knew that this was his name. ]
I’m Erebus.
[ he takes the name, with pride, and seals his fate. but after a beat, he shuffles enough that his body faces the boy’s. he’s at least, now, not making an effort to reject him. he’s cautious of course, his wings still protect his sides and he doesn’t approach him. facing the person who found his name, who even fed him, deserved, at the very least, his attention.
(he forgets that he’s tied to him by other means) ]
Didn’t your mother name you?
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Was this...a true name? He had heard the term before while studying magic, but he always had been skeptical of such a thing. ]
Erebus.
[he repeats the name, and it just feels right for this dragon. No other name would possibly do. Not for his dragon, he thinks without fully realizing the meaning.
And now it seems Erebus was giving him his attention. He hesitates at the question]
...She did. But it started losing power the day my father died. It could only be used for a spell or two more before it's become so weak I start to forget it.
[His mother had never intended it to be a true name, or a long lasting name. She wanted him to find his own path, his own identity. It had survived longer thanks to his father's love, but that was all.
Still, he didn't want to forget the name, so he'd been careful with it.]
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the fact of the matter was that the boy didn’t have a name either, and silence stretches around them like the chills of a frigid winter. you’d think he had forgotten they were speaking, or ignoring him once more.
but for one, he doesn’t take his eyes off the boy. this goes on until moments seem like cycles, until it felt like if the sun was around, it would’ve hovered halfway across the sky by now. it was enough time for the fish to cook and for him to eat everything to the thin bones, all of that time used to search the meanings that dragonian had taught him. ]
Eleos.
[ compassion. clemency. benevolence. he doesn’t voice its meaning, but it fits like the stick he walks around with. ]
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So the boy returns to tending to his fish. He cooks it to when it looks done and pulls it from the fire. Picking at it and eating what meat he could get. It was a far cry from the meals he'd cook himself back in the village and access to actual cooking supplies, but for a hungry man it was feast enough. He consumes it all without complaint, down until there's nothing but bits of scales and thin bones, which he tosses into the forest to be something else's meal.
He was just trying to figure out his sleeping arrangements when the dragon spoke.
Eleos.
The boy stops in mid-thought. Despite it being so long since they seemingly ended their conversation, he didn't need to ask for context. He knew right away that it was his name. It sinks into him, weaving into his identity so seamlessly. Canary, what the villagers had called him, suddenly seemed like a childish insult than any name. Even the name his mother gave him, it now felt like an endearing childhood nickname. Sweet and a name he'd respond to, but not his real name.]
My name is Eleos.
[He says out loud in an awed tone. It felt so right. So much so that he doesn't realize the oddity - a demi-human going by a name from the language meant only for dragons and gods. Nor does he realize that accepting the name is sealing his own fate, causing that tattoo on his wrist to subtly become more intricate- more permanent.
No, all he could focus on was that he had a name. A true name. All his earlier skepticism had been diminished. He understood what it meant now. The power of such a name.]
Thank you, Erebus.
[Eleos puts his hand to his chest, and there's an unmistakable note of warm gratitude in his voice. ]
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