Aldrid
Nu Guardian
"Bitch, I'm a bus."
Posts: 26 
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Post by Aldrid on Apr 23, 2014 16:06:46 GMT
The road was long and dusty. It rose up in a large plume, choking the air and clinging to anything that passed in its wake. Men went on with grim expressions. The heat was enough to make anyone feel like death would claim them at a moment's notice. This amused E'lir. He was not bothered by the dust, though it felt gritty between his scales. The warmth made him want to laze about and relax; but he was a predator stalking his prey - which was currently a caravan of armed guards, and a carriage that cradled something precious. He had followed them from the city-of-light-and-noise. Out here in the wilderness, it was different though. This was his domain, not theirs. They would not come to bite him with vicious words and steel. His cloak hung loosely aroused his bare shoulders, and he didn't bother to hide his face. From this distance they would not recognize him. He could taste their unease. He had been following for some time, and what was more troublesome was that he had kept his distance; yet moved at such a pace that he could keep up with the moving carriage.
The horses were slow, and whinnied on occasion when the wind took his scent; though he could tell they were tired. It had been two days since their departure. The sweltering heat was making the beasts and men irritable. He wondered how warm they felt in their mock-scales-of-iron. Their tunics that covered them were of a thick wool. They had divined rain; but they would be met with no such reprieve for another sun-pass. E'lir tasted the air. The musty scent of sweat and bitter iron caught his tongue and made him grimace. They were unpleasant things, these men with their ever-changing-masks. He wondered if they would ever stop, or if death would claim them first; as if to answer his question, the line came to a dragging halt. He slowly came to a stop himself, and hunkered down in the road. From the front of the line, a man came walking down and shouting orders. He was not the alpha, but they listened. They pulled to the side of the road. He saw the horses walk on shaky legs as they were led to the shade of trees, and those-with-stingers-and-barbs simultaneously collapsed in a sprawling heap on the soft grass. The sun was too much. He smiled. Their misery was almost enjoyable for all the silvering they had done to him.
He remained crouched in the road, watching the group with a silent stare. His eyes trailed among the men, and finally to the coach that bore the one who the wind had spoken of. He felt a sense of growing anticipation, and curiosity. How close could he get? He had made no secret to following them, and they had paid him no mind as he did not draw attention to himself, or cause them any sort of harm. The first few nights they had been wary of him, patrolling frequently and huddling close to the fires with barbs and stingers-of-iron ready. When nothing had happened though, they had become lax, and simply accepted their shadow. He knew they did not trust him, but they left him alone. E'lir's clawed feet scratched at the warm earth under him. Like all hunts, he could follow as long as he liked; but he would have to pounce upon his prey eventually. Now was a time as any.
He rose to his full height of seven foot nine. If his size wasn't nerve-wracking enough, the feral look about him quickly set them on edge. The most distinctive feature were the slits for pupils, much like a cat or reptile. They burned like molten-copper, reflecting vitality and a wildness that was equal to an animal's. His hair was more like a mane with how it fell to the middle of his back, thick and black. He had heard funny names from when the soldiers had set eyes on him. Wildling was the most amusing of all. He was no wildling. His loping gait quickly caught the attention of the men-in-false-scales, making them rise to their feet and make a protective wall between him and the carriage. E'lir continued on undaunted, only stopping when he was twenty feet away. They lowered the tips of barbs-on-branches at him, and the faint sound of their iron barbs scraping on leather made him pause. They did not approach him. Their alpha was not among them. One of them called out then, his nervousness and fear evident, "What is your business?"
E'lir did not answer at first. His eyes lazily trailed over those before him, carefully considering how much it would take to kill them should a conflict arise. But they were not his prey - merely obstacles. They shuffled nervously, and this close to them he could see their brows beading with sweat. Their skin was flushed, and some swayed from dehydration. They were miserable. E'lir carefully gauged how they flinched in surprise when one arm slowly came up from under the cloak, revealing his scaly legs and taloned feet. His tail swished against the dust-covered road, making a small cloud arise behind him. He did not speak their words, but instead uncurled a finger to point at the carriage. His action was unsettling. They eyed him carefully, eyes narrowing. They noted his muscle bound torso, and the truth of his legs. Some couldn't help but gawk at how they glistened in the sunlight, black with a faint reddish hue. Some noted the protrusions from his head, mostly covered by his hair; none of them wanted to tangle with him.
Finally after the silence grew, he slowly began to speak, his words guttural and resounding deep within his chest with a deep baritone sound "I wish to speak with her...she-who-mothers-my-kin." His request was met with nervous steps, though it was impressive they didn't break rank in their sense of fear. They were loyal to her, and would lay down their life despite their desire to run. The one who spoke before piped up then, "A-and what business do you have with the fair lady? Begone from here, s-stranger... she has no desire to speak with the likes of you!" E'lir frowned. He was growing impatient, and it showed when he took a step forward, making the soldiers jump in absolute fright and prepare their weapons again. The tension grew, and E'lir was quickly growing angry. He hissed softly, the sound much like that of an aggravated dragon. He had shown himself to them - had come from his hiding to face these spiteful things. He would not be deterred so easily.
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Duchess
Nu Guardian
Poetry is emotion put to measure.
Posts: 39 
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Post by Duchess on Apr 24, 2014 4:57:18 GMT
Her lips parted in a great sigh, the sun beating upon the roof of the coach and causing unbearable heat within. Delia had been on her way to the estate from the bazaar, having bought a couple of bird eggs which looked promising should they hatch. The vender had not quite been clear on what bore them, but he was more than happy to hand them to her. She kept them at her side, wrapped up in red silk in a golden, ornately decorated box. One hand drifted to the latch, popping it open and lifting the lid so she may peer inside. The black eggs sat still, though one wiggled a bit. Such a sight brought a warm smile to her face despite the deadly heat. She truly felt sorry for her officers and the weather they were currently enduring.
Suddenly, she tensed. The unmistakable clicking of talons upon ground, the scent of metallic underbelly and warm heart filling her senses.
"STOP THE CARRIAGE!"
She jerked forward immediately, the driver heeding with haste at her wishes. Her hand shot to the box, holding it in place though her fingers left small dents within its design. Frowning, she listened carefully to the soon-to-be-an-altercation-of-some-sort outside. It was unmistakeable. There was a dragon near, but this dragon was not a dragon, it reeked of man as well as old cloth and sorrow. Lowering the lid upon her egg-box, she stood, crouched, and shoved the door--which protested all the while--open, stepping carefully into the light.
It was evident that she was exhausted, for her natural glow had dimmed. She slouched, when normally her posture was upright, and her eyes were not fiery, but barely burned as coals do when dampened by water.
"Who so dares disturb my cara--"
Her voice caught in her throat, eyes lifting to the face of the Drachuman. Breath held still in her chest, eyes wide and back suddenly straight.
"Hello...there. Kind sir. Is there a reason you have paused my journey home?"
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Aldrid
Nu Guardian
"Bitch, I'm a bus."
Posts: 26
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Post by Aldrid on Apr 24, 2014 22:09:13 GMT
E'lir was taken aback, quite surprised that the woman he had taken his time to follow had decided to see about the delay herself. As the real alpha-of-false-scaled-pack stood before him, he said nothing in silent regard. His eyes narrowed a bit as he studied the woman, his tongue flicking against the air. It was her - the one who's name was carried on the wind. He felt a sense of foreboding as he regarded her. He understood why the false-scaled-ones followed her. She was pretty, like moon-on-still-waters. Finally, he seemed to react to her question, and slowly began to walk forward again. He paid no mind to the others who tried to bar him with their weapons, forcing them to shuffle back a few steps. They didn't want to break rank, nor did they want to end in bloodshed - but so long as they didn't try to skewer him, he would not tear their flesh from bone and dash them to pieces on the roadside. Once he was only within two spear lengths of the woman did he pause. He was close enough to the carriage he could of reached out and touched it.
"The wind." He said simply in that slow, deep baritone voice. It was clear he was not used to communicating with these liars-in-changing-masks. His own back straightened, his eyes reflecting a sense of pride as his tail swished about and slapped the ground twice with a dull thud. It was a sound of satisfaction. She did not disappoint. "It spoke true. Mother-of-kin; the wind told me of you." E'lir seemed to coil with anticipation, and his curiosity was obvious. He was wild, and the truth of his emotions showed true. He was deeply intrigued by the woman, "How... how do they love you like their own?" It felt odd speaking. He had never said so much in so long, that his thick words sounded a bit difficult to understand.
He paused for a moment or so before reaching under his cloak, and removed something fastened to the inside of it. He paced slightly as he did so, his confident demeanor seeming to give pause with consideration. He removed a small pouch made of burlap, and slowly extended his hand towards her. "A gift." He said simply. She had proven to be more than he had expected - so he had something prepared for an encounter. It smelt with a gentle fragrance as the contents consisted of a variety of dried berries and crushed leaves; he did not understand the fascination of the female liars-in-masks with this stuff. It was so common to find and yet they traded away their precious metal round bits for it with the same craving of a starving animal. He had witnessed them spreading it about in warm water before stewing themselves in it, or spreading it about their thin-spider-wisp-skin to make them smell like the mix of petals and berries. They were so bizarre to him - yet he recognized it as part of some odd mating ritual.
E'lir had learned of their idea of "courting" and how one would decide one mate above all. It confounded him. Why did they not just mate as the need arose? He suspected it was the same reason why he had mourned and grieved over the death of his elder-kin as a bare hatchling, or why he found an adoring fascination with the small and helpless ones that had yet to grow. It was his old friend that left him with bitter pain, and a comforting warmth that chased away the coldest of winter's chill. They called it "love," but even then, he did not understand why they would not simply mate as they wished. His thoughts were quickly pulled back to the woman of whom-the-wind-spoke. His hand remained extended towards her, and the others looked at the object in his hand with narrowed, suspicious eyes. No one dared move.
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Duchess
Nu Guardian
Poetry is emotion put to measure.
Posts: 39
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Post by Duchess on Apr 26, 2014 2:39:54 GMT
One brow arched, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He had a peculiar way of carrying himself. A bit less confident than she had expected him to be when laying eyes upon him. He spoke of kin, which also piqued her interest further. What could he possibly mean? Was he speaking of the dragons? How could he possibly have known? She grew still, her eyes growing wary as she took a step forward and held her hand out for the little pouch, which smelled of mint and blackberry. "Thank you darling." She held the pouch close to her chest, as though guarding it. It was not often that she received gifts. So she would hold this dear to her heart and use it sparingly.
"What is this "kin" that you speak of, dear? I am not sure I understand."
The questions irked her ever so slightly, but she held her head high so as not to appear intimidated by her subjects, and the occasional guest. Her lips held their smile, and her eyes seemed to glow brighter, like embers beneath the gentle blow of a woman's breath. "Why does whom take me for their own?"
She could not help but notice how sad this poor creature appeared. It struck her heart, filling her with the utmost sympathetic feelings. He spoke of the wind, her name being carried upon it. What a poetic way to explain word-of-mouth. Unless he meant it literally. In which case she was even more intrigued.
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Aldrid
Nu Guardian
"Bitch, I'm a bus."
Posts: 26
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Post by Aldrid on May 3, 2014 17:50:51 GMT
E'lir let out a soft growl, and he seemed amused by it all. "My kin... the bare hatchling, I saw it back in that city of thousand-stars." He paced about anxiously, and crouched down a bit to study the woman a bit more closely. He had no fear of their men, though they were terrified of him. His tail slid along the ground and smacked into the dirt, causing a plume of dust to rise up behind him. He brushed his cloak aside as a show for the woman to reveal the truth of his lower half. The scales glistened darkly, black with that reddish hue, and his ivory taloned feet clawed into the earth. With a low growl, the men quivered in absolute terror. How could she be so calm in his wake? To them he was a monstrous thing. One of them muttered so, which landed on E'lir's keen ears. His head twitched and his eyes fell on one of the men holding a spear. He simply let his lips peel back to reveal vicious looking teeth that could tear into flesh, and hissed loudly. "Monster...?" He murmured softly, clearly angered by his words. His hand shot forward and he gave an accusatory point, "Is it not you who are monsters? Tear down the world, build new. Enslave your own kin - yet you bleed the same. Drive me from my home, and murder my family." His eyes roiled with absolute rage, and his body flexed though he calmed himself by exhaling loudly and straightening his stance. It was touchy to say such things about him. He had done no harm to them, and they stung him with their iron, and tore at his flesh making it hard and silver. He was no creature of nightmares.
He could see the discomfort settle about them, unsure how to reply to his accusations. They instead only kept their weapons at the ready in case violence broke out - but if it came to that, he would be the only one to walk away. He had fought many times, and many times they had been in a pack; and many times, he had walked a way the victor. His gaze fell back on their true-alpha. Did she share the same opinions as her lessers? If that was the case, approaching her had been a mistake. Suddenly he felt doubtful and angry. His tail moved back and forth, evident of his agitation by the frequency it slapped against the hard earth. He spoke again, though his words only meant for her, "Am I a monster?" His question was direct, and to the point. Depending on how she answered could change the outcome of this entire meeting.
However, something told him it had been no mistake talking to her... she was different from the others. She saw him as something more than a nightmare, than an abomination. He saw it in her eyes, the pitying gaze. She felt something other than fear for his plight. Or at least it was what he had been hoping. The wind was no liar, and the wind had spoken kindly of her. He listened now as the breeze tickled the leaves of the trees, and swept the world in a cool gust and calming some of the men before him. The tension grew with the silence. E'lir instinctively tasted the air, feeling the fear of the ones before him. It was right for them to fear him. E'lir was superior to them; stronger, faster, and smarter - though he did not speak the same as they did, it did not make him intelligent. It was they who were inferior, and he would make example of that should they become any more hostile.
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Duchess
Nu Guardian
Poetry is emotion put to measure.
Posts: 39
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Post by Duchess on May 5, 2014 2:51:08 GMT
The sun had grown warm, and a sheen of sweat had gathered at the Lady's brow. Soft red eyes glimmered in the garish light, but she stood, never squinting, and stared at the pitiful creature before her. His scales, a deep dark shade of reddish-black, had been slashed and torn, some cuts had seemed to even been recent. Yet he stood strong, his glimmering talons digging into the earth as he stood, anxious. She had known his troubles. Her brother knew nothing of kin or honor. He took what he wanted without giving mercy or even a speck of acknowledgement. Suddenly he spoke of this "kin". The dragons were of his kind, it was painfully obvious. But how had he come about? How was he the way he was in mind and body?
"My darling. You mean the dragon, don't you?" Her expression softened, but not before giving a stern look to her guards. They immediately silenced themselves and turned to face the way in which they had traveled from. "No dinner to the both of you. I will not have you belittling someone brave enough to track me down himself." That would serve them right, being rude to a guest. The man before her turned to them as well, lashing out in a justified fashion, but this was not the time to be angry. She arched a brow, but cleared her throat as to draw his attention.
"My dragon, Nagendra, gives forth one to three eggs every year. With careful planning and utmost maternal prowess I warmed that egg and it happened to give the world a new mind and soul. The dragon I gave to the Mayor was one of rarity. I have only three dragons left, but an egg resides in the embers of my hearth." With that, she offered him a small smile. But then, his posture changed, and he grew closer to her with an odd tenderness and an air of contrition.
Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she took another step forward to meet him before she realized he had taken one in precedence. Her gaze lifted, for he was not a man of short stature nor one that did not demand respect. Her jaw parted so she may speak softly to him, but his words cut her to the quick.
'Am I a monster?'
This brought a tautness to her jaw, and tears to her eyes. There were no other words that could describe such a delicate moment. Her brows furrowed and she lifted a hand to his half-skin, half-reptilian cheek, the pad of her thumb stroking the span of bone beneath his eye.
"My dear. You are far more valuable, far more humble, far more noble than any man or creature I have met in all of my years."
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Aldrid
Nu Guardian
"Bitch, I'm a bus."
Posts: 26
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Post by Aldrid on May 5, 2014 6:36:16 GMT
E'lir had never been so surprised in his life. He had not expected such a tender touch, nor words of such utter kindness... she truly was fitting to be respected as the mother of his kin. He reached up and put his hand to hers as it cradled his face, his massive fingers closing around her slender and delicate ones. She was so small, so fragile. His own eyes closed and a slight murring sound echoed from deep within his chest, causing his body to vibrate; it was quite clear her kindness was soothing to him. He had never felt such care. The half-man's eyes opened, and within them was a strong resolve. He didn't say anything at first, only looking at her - studying her. His free hand caught her chin. He was careful with her, like a tinkerer with his various items of glass, or a parent with a new born. In his powerful grasp, she was so fragile. His back arched and he stooped down to meet her eyes. E'lir's nostrils flared as he took in the sweet scent that followed her about, subtle and pleasant. Finally he came to some decision.
"I want... to come with you." He said slowly and with a bit of hesitation, though his eyes did not waver as he held her. "I long for home... for a place to feel safe." The more he spoke the more truth there was to his words. He felt tired, and world weary. With a soft sigh he let his hand drop from her face and stepped back, though regretting how it allowed for her hand to fall away from his face. "You are among your kind... and my own. I am like the-world-in-mist-and-grey before the rising sun; neither day, nor night. I have no home. I call them kin as their blood is mine - but I am not welcomed. " He hoped she could understand him, all to aware of his odd speech compared to that of theirs. Their words felt odd on his tongue, and often actions spoke louder, and told greater stories. E'lir could feel a strong burning desire. She was someone he could protect - someone who's life could be worth more than his own. Maybe she would grant him sanctuary, and in turn he would lay his life in lieu of her own.
Unlike them, he did not have the same concept of value, or gifts; there was nothing more precious than life - even when one took it, it should not be done without careful consideration. Just as E'lir would hunt to eat, he would not take the life of something helpless, or those who were born new to the world. Though easy prey, they sustained their population - but more importantly, they were still "Pure." E'lir did not know when he had stumbled across this concept, though since he did, it allowed him to explore other things such as compassion, happiness, fear... he suspected this was what they called being "Human." His kin had such traits - yet at the same time, many held no care for it and put their needs that above others. If they hungered, they ate, if they tired, they slept. It was a simple life, but it did not always feel... right. It was difficult to confront such thoughts, and more often than not, confounded him and left him frustrated - but abiding by them alleviated the weight of shame and guilt.
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Duchess
Nu Guardian
Poetry is emotion put to measure.
Posts: 39
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Post by Duchess on May 25, 2014 17:11:39 GMT
A hand lifted to wrap slender fingers about his scaled wrist, rubicund eyes glistening as she peered into his own. His words intrigued her in the most emotional way, if words could be emotionally intriguing. A small smile played at the corners of her small pink mouth, and she tugged his hand away, not a fan of being touched upon her face, and curled her fingers through his talons.
"You may come with me. But only if you promise me something."
Lips pursed for a moment, as her conditions were serious. The thought of having a man of his kind, his rare kind at that, taking care of her dragons brought joy to her heart. He would be accepted by the three she possessed, and if not, they would hear straight from the Devil's mouth. She studied his expression once more, the anguish in his dark eyes, the furrow of his brow as skin met with scale. He was a masterpiece of sorts, and she intended to have this work of art within her estate.
"You must care for my dragons."
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