Nameless Dragon RP {RECRUITING}

[vitamin_kitten]

OOC Discussion

Syera had always been an unwilling puppet of her emotions. Even as a child, her mother had often used the excuse, "She's just moody" in explanation of Syera's sudden temper tantrums, which usually ended almost as abruptly as they'd begun, regardless of whether or not the girl had gotten her way. As Syera had gotten older, had learned to distinguish her emotions and give names to them, she'd gradually come to the understanding that she simply had too many to hold in all at once. At least, this was what she'd told her parents to excuse her mood swings.

"You're just an adolescent," they would explain, shaking their heads patronizingly. "Everyone goes through these whirlwinds of feelings."

"No. I have too many feelings. If I don't show any of them, I'll blow up." Syera was resolutely fixed on this explanation, and there was no changing her mind; her parents had agreed to disagree and that was that.

Syera was older now. She was 22- no longer a child. She was not allowed to make silly excuses for her outbursts or her pity parties, she was barely even allowed to be angry at all. What was a girl to do?

The past few months, Syera had made a habit of disappearing from home for hours at time, sometimes for an entire day. Her town was located at the mouth of a valley, nestled between low-lying hills foregrounding verdant mountains. Her tendency to disappear had worried her parents and sisters greatly- not only could she be robbed or hurt by travelers outside the town, but there were Dragons living in the mountains. Everyone knew Dragons were elusive, and there had never been a report of a Dragon hurting a human before, but it was a risk that no one wanted to make with a creature armed with fangs, claws, and spikes, not to mention fire. The Water Dragons were all well and good- fishermen and sailors were often safe from them if they stayed in their vessels, but there was nothing to protect a human from an encounter with a Fire Dragon that happened to be feeling particularly cranky or hungry that day.

"I don't care!" Syera declared and stormed off. It was a common occurrence- the argument that broke out between her and her family, and her determined exclamation and prompt departure. Her parents almost half-hoped she would get into a scuffle with a Dragon; it might teach her a lesson.

But in the months since winter had ended and Syera had started disappearing into the hills at the foot of the mountains, she had not had an encounter with a Dragon yet. Mostly, she kept herself occupied exploring the fields and some of the thinning forests at their borders, or else daydreaming, staring up at the sky and watching as the clouds floated by. At least out there she could feel free to vent her feelings- good or bad or other- without the disapproving gazes of the people around her. It was a welcome escape, and though it did have the downside of leaving Syera feeling a little lonely, it was usually the good kind of loneliness- the kind one sought after being crowded in by too many people, the kind that was more alone than lonely.

This was what Syera had been expecting today when she awoke with the dawn and decided to head into the hills while it was still gray out. She knew she had a big day ahead of her, and likely wouldn't get the opportunity to come if she didn't take it now. One of her sisters had recently become engaged and both families were celebrating. Why the celebrating had to happen at their house was something Syera hadn't been able to figure out just yet. The topic had, of course, turned into quite the argument, and though Syera had gotten her does of alone-in-the-hills that day and everyday since, her anger and annoyance were still there, boiling just under her chest, giving her the compulsion to ... do what? She wasn't even sure. Some days she wondered if she could devise a plan to ruin the entire thing, cancel her sister's engagement. But even she wasn't that selfish. Syera could never bring herself to ruin someone else's happiness, and as much as people may have seen her as a selfish child, if someone would just give her the opportunity to sacrifice herself, she would be more than willing to follow through. Was it her fault she'd made a bad first impression as a child? She couldn't help those temper tantrums. Didn't all children throw them?

There was a thin fog resting ghostlike just over the ground. As Syera walked through the town and made her way to the hills tucked neatly behind it, she had the vague impression she was walking through liquid-less water, a shallow pool of white smoke that was neither disturbed by her walking nor hindered her course in any way. The air was still and cool, and her footsteps crunched softly as she made her way from the town; once she was walking through the soft grass, she was as silent as the fog.

Syera made her way to a small grove of trees that looked like it desperately wanted to be a forest, and picked her way through it. It was so silent it seemed that not even the birds wanted to disturb the stillness with their morning songs. Well, that was fine with Syera; she could use the extra quiet.

She came out on the other side, where a meadow stretched out before her. Normally, there were a few deer in it this early, grazing before the sun got too high and warmed the earth a little too well. Today was clearly not a normal day. There was a deer in the meadow this morning, certainly, but it hung limply from the mouth of a large gray Dragon. The fog had all but obscured it from Syera's notice, but its golden eyes pierced vividly through, like liquid metal, tiny suns floating only twenty feet off the ground. At Syera's entrance, the Dragon quickly gulped down the deer whole, its jaws snapping and its gulp reaching clear across the meadow so that Syera heard it. Slowly, deliberately, it turned its body, and focused its molten gaze on Syera's terrified blue one. The voice that rang through her head was most definitely not her own.

{ It would seem that our paths have finally crossed. }

[The Literate Angel]

Sun filtered in through the tree branches, lighting the ground in a beautiful green. It was early morning, the sun had just risen and was lighting everything beautifully. The grave yard was filled with the sounds of birds chirping and a soft breeze floated by, cooling the men who were busy working in the early morning. About ten servants were digging up the graves, disturbing them and taking out the dead. Their bodies were being tossed into a pile of dead on a large cart, all to be taken back for their mistress.

A large, black carriage sat close by, one that had elegance and poise, unlike the cart. It was a nobles carriage and inside was a beautiful woman of high prestige. Her long, wavy coal black hair was pulled up into a stylish bun atop her head with the longer lengths hanging down her back. She wore a black dress, fairly simple for her standards, with a pair of matching black gloves and a funeral veil was clipped into her hair. Across from her was a small, mousy man who looked nervous and twitchy. She turned her severe eyes to him. They were emerald green, but so dark that at a glance they would appear black.

"Is this really as fast as these workers can go? Did I not say I wanted these by nightfall?"

She pulled back a crimson curtain and looked out at the men working. Around the graveyard a group of people from the nearby village stood, some of them sobbing. They were surprised to find that before the dawn even fully came their graveyard was being disturbed. Their local noblewoman had told them that she would be digging up their loved ones graves, for what purpose they did not know, but grief filled their hearts. They could do nothing for she said she owned the land and she would take what was rightfully hers. They heard that her husband had recently passed away so they guessed that grief had overtaken her, but they couldn't believe she was going to such horrific lengths.

The mousy man across from her fidgeted under her stare and wrung his hands together. The woman, while thin and weak, was terrifying to him. She held power beyond his imagine and he had only taken a glimpse of it. She needed the bodies for practice, to perfect her art, she said. What she really was doing was bringing them back to life, ripping their souls from the after life and putting them under her control. Now that her husband was dead she had no restraints put on her unless the king saw what she was doing and he wouldn't for she was very secretive, he hardly even knew what was really going on.

"Ma'am we are working as hard as we can. We are digging up every body that has been dead for ten years or less. The villagers are very upset and it is hot even this early in the morning. We can finish by tomorrow at the earliest my lady."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window and she let the curtain fall closed. She was growing impatient, she needed some of those that night so she could use them in her spell. She was no where near perfecting Necromancy, but she had succeeded in performing it. She had risen the dead and made him under her control, but the strength was dismal and it was really pathetic. She needed to make them strong, stronger then when they were alive and that was proving more difficult then she had first suspected. The man across from her stared politely, waiting for an answer, but she remained quiet and deep in thought.

"Lady Rosaline?"

Rosaline looked at him with slight annoyance. She set her glare at him, causing him to squirm uncomfortably. She supposed she had little choices. She wasn't going to have them stop until they were done. She had a few maids she could use. Of course she would have to kill them, but maybe if fresh blood was running through them that would make them stronger.

"That's fine then. Have them to me by the morrow, and they better be in the best condition Alfred. Now get out of here, your stench is horrid."

He nodded quickly, opening the carriage door. The woman sent off a bad vibe and he wanted nothing to do with her, but she was paying a handsome amount so he couldn't refuse. The carriage door slammed shut after him and bowed down as it rolled away. He spit on the ground where the carriage had been and went over to his men.

Rosaline sat back in her carriage and smiled softly. Maybe her knew idea would really be what she was missing. She needed something that would be stronger then those bonded to the cursed dragons. She would command legions of dead and there would be limitless amounts of them. She would spare no expense. She would need monsters with the strength of demons if she was going to rule over the world.

[Igraine]

Weddings.

The handsome young man growled and spat on the ground as he rode, as if to rid himself of some foul taste in his mouth. Gods above, how he despised weddings. Nothing but two people, too naïve or too foolish to realize this momentary act of passion would shackle them forever to someone for whom, in likely less than a year, the bloom would shrivel and disappear, never to be found again. And the whole time, that shameful display of overly-emotional ceremonial vacuousness was egged on by others younger and even more naïve who called the notion “romantic;” or more cynically by the older ones, who – he was certain – simply wanted more company for their own abject misery.

Daevis Redden ran one hand irritably through his main of blonde hair, pushing it back out of his face as pale blue eyes peered further up the road, toward the home where the abominable ceremony was to take place. He sighed deeply, one hand on his horse’s reins, the other hand ran unthinkingly over the leather satchel in front of him, almost lovingly. The one thing in this world anyone could say that Daevis actually gave a damn for in this world: his work.

And there was only one thing that could drag him to a place like this, for such a distasteful time. Daevis had reached the limits of the research he could conduct with his own meager resources and, insofar as it galled him to the point of retching, there would be a rich, indulgent great aunt of his here. An almost amorphous creature dressed more often than not in crepe and lace, her perfume as cloying and sickly sweet as that painted on smile over shriveled lips set in a soft, flabby face. She seemed to positively delight in his misery, dangling all her gold before him, all of which could be his, if only…

If only he’d come to weddings, birthing, birthdays, funerals… That woman made Daevis life a veritable hell of disgusting sentimentality – and if it weren’t for her cruel patronage, he’d gladly never see her or any other person in this gods-forsaken place ever again.

’Your work, Dae, just think of what it will be like when… ‘ The handsome blonde man smiled almost tenderly then, the look in his eyes far and away from this place he had no desire to be, and onto a far better future – for himself, at least. Which was really all that mattered.

[vitamin_kitten]

For a few paralyzed moments, there was silence in the meadow. Syera had neither words, nor the ability to speak them. It seemed as if she had suddenly been sucked from her body and thrown into a timeless void where all was smoke and silence. The only thing to remind Syera that she was still alive, that she wasn't dreaming, was the sudden caress of cool wind on her cheek, and the breathy reply of the trees.

The Dragon stepped forward, and lowered its head.

{ You have nothing to say to me? }

Syera swallowed, and pulled in a deep, shaky breath through her lips.

"Should I?" she answered, her voice small and weak. The Dragon tilted its head bemusedly, as if studying some strange insect in the grass, and a laugh- a clear, delightful belly laugh- rolled through Syera's mind.

{ My name is Tiurog. } The voice was deep, like it issued from the Dragon's belly rather than his throat. Yes, his. From the sound of its voice, Syera had determined this Fire Dragon must be male.

"Syera," she replied. "My name is Syera."

{ Syera. } Tiurog lifted his head, straightening to his full height, and gazed down at Syera. { I'm not going to eat you. }

Syera swallowed again, wanting to believe the Dragon's words.

{ Dragons have never been known to eat humans. } The volume of his thought words lowered, like a whisper. { That is because a Dragon has never eaten a human. } The volume of his voice returned to normal. { Perhaps you can understand- you would not eat your meat if it had the ability to communicate with you, if it could think and act on free will. }

"No," Syera conceded, still stiff with fear.

{ Yet you are still afraid of me. } There was a question somewhere in there.

"Uh ... well ..." Syera paused, straining her eyes to meet his gaze, so high above her own, and then trailing them down along his serpentine neck, down to his taloned toes, hidden in the grass. "You're so big."

Her observation was met with another laugh, and Tiurog stretched open his wings, as if to prove his immensity. They spanned nearly as long as the rest of his body, from his snout to the tip of his tail, and that was singly. Together, they were longer than his body. As Syera stared at them, still frozen to her spot, Tiurog returned his wings to their resting position along his back, and lowered his entire body into a crouch.

{ I am not so large now, am I? }

Syera shook her head, but still had not relaxed. A deep sigh echoed through her mind.

{ I have often seen you in these hills. I have listened to your angry words. I have watched you cry. I have never been able to determine what drives you here, though. } Tiurog's words were gentle, like a concerned friend wanting to make everything all better. The strangeness of it finally pulled a laugh from Syera's own throat.

"I am deeply misunderstood," she explained, and finally began to relax.

{ A description I understand all too well, } Tiurog said with a nod. { And what about you, Syera, is so deeply misunderstood? }

For a moment, Syera hesitated to launch into an explanation. She gazed at Tiurog thoughtfully, and then decided it couldn't hurt to finally share her thoughts with someone. Carefully, she sat down on the damp grass.

"I have alot of emotions, alot of feelings. My family doesn't understand this. They think I'm just inept at controlling them, that I lack, I don't know, the proper etiquette that dictates when and where I show which emotions. And I just ... they don't listen to me. I try to explain what has gotten me upset or angry or sad, and they only scoff and promise me that I'll learn to handle the situation better once I'm older." Syera sighed and looked up into Tiurog's golden eyes. He hadn't interrupted her at all; in fact, he'd been so silent, Syera began to wonder if his voice in her head had all been made up. She continued regardless. It felt too good to get this out there. "I don't want to learn to handle situations better when I'm older. I like how I handle them now. I like being able to feel. I like where my emotions take me. I just ... wish my family could learn to feel the same way I do. I mean, literally, feel the way I feel. They would understand then. I'm not moody, I'm just ... passionate." Syera shrugged, and pointed her gaze at the grass in front of her. She began to fidget with the blades, tugging them up out of the ground.

{ I can tell you are passionate. } Tiurog chuckled. { I have seen you passionately shout curses to the trees and sky and animals around you. But passion is a strong force that can often lead to negative consequences. It is only because it is so strong that it carries the potential to be dangerous. It is best tempered by something just as powerful in order to make it productive. Love, joy, motivation. } The Dragon paused in his lecture, but remained still before Syera. { What has brought you out to the hills so early in the morning, Syera? }

She hadn't been expecting the question; its suddenness pulled her focus upward once more.

"My sister. She's engaged. We're having an engagement party for her and the groom at our home."

{ Are you not happy for her? }

"I am. I really am. But so much work will have to go into this party and ... I'll be carrying most of the weight. And ... I'm dangerous around people. Like I said, I'm misunderstood, and I get frustrated easily. I'll ... ruin everything with so many people there to celebrate."

At first, Tiurog said nothing, only nodded his understanding.

{ Then, } he began, { be passionately decisive to make the celebration of your sister's engagement a most beautiful celebration indeed. }

The Dragon and the girl stared at each other for a few moments after that. For some reason, the Dragon's words seemed to make sense. It was the first time someone had ever told her to go with her passion, rather than against it, to embrace her emotions instead of trying to reign them in and cage them.

{ It maybe be an exhausting ritual- organizing this party- but your sister's happiness is something I believe you are also passionate about. If this is true, then you must not stop at any cost to fight the things that would tear it down. If you fear your frustrations will become an enemy to her happiness, counter them with that passion you have, the greater desire for your sister's happiness. } Tiurog shifted and rose to his feet. { I look forward to hearing stories of your sister's beautiful engagement celebration. }

A gust of cold wind blew into Syera's face as Tiurog thrust downwards with his wings. Her dark hair blew in strands into her eyes and mouth in the mini-whirlwind, until the Dragon had gone, leaving Syera sitting alone on the edge of the meadow.

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