Halloween Dragon + Intro!

[silvermists]

How strange it is, to see the world fade to black as the living writhing roots of a tree the size of a city are about to smash down on his head and the head of his companion--the last thing he remembers is using his tiny remaining scraps of magic to try and shield both of them, and then...

Coming back into awareness on a floating island in the sky, in a very different form indeed. A feathery, somewhat bipedal dragon, all gleaming silver with reddish highlights, around twelve feet tall at the shoulder... smaller than a true silver dragon, taller than any man he knows of.

The first thing he does, having popped back into existence on the edge of the castle's little chunk of land, is spread his wings and fly. It just comes instinctively, and he wants to know where he is... down he goes, quite a ways, gliding on and on, knowing he's bound to reach the ground eventually... it seems like the thing to do, rather than hang around a strange floating lump of rock.

Which he does not. He simply loops right back around, seeing the same damn castle beneath him after some time flying. So, then. Trapped. Imprisoned and so far he hasn't seen a single soul, and he isn't sure he can squeeze in through the doors. He lands in the courtyard near the great glass hill, thoughts racing, fresh out of schemes. Heaven knows he deserves to be trapped somewhere he can't harm anyone, though becoming dragonlike doesn't make any sense. And neither does being alive at all.

In the courtyard he stays all afternoon, sunning himself, thinking, and preening those lovely feathers with his teeth, while he tries to think of something.

Comments

[dustless]

Oh. Well, there's somebody big, Frisk thinks from their place perched yet another tree. They're getting better at flying--if they'd been looking up when he'd been streaking through the sky, they might've thought to join.

After watching for a few minutes, they head closer, gliding from tree to tree. They're even pretty quiet, too. And eventually, they make it to the edge of the little clearing.

"Hello?" they call. They're sort of hidden.

[silvermists]

Rumble. Well, that proves he can't speak with this mouth, as some part of him expected. No great loss, there are other options... like a projected mental voice, sent out to the general area, since he doesn't know who or what is speaking.

Hello. Who's there?

[dustless]

Their head twitches. Well. That...is one way for a monster-dragon to speak, if not what they were expecting.

They drop to a slightly lower branch, peering out with yellow cat's eyes. They wave a hand to catch attention without having to glide all the way to the grass. "I'm Frisk! You're new?" An important question with how changing everyone's been lately.

[silvermists]

New to this... prison, is it? it (he? it sounds male) thinks, twisting the long next around to peer at the little demon. Call me Kuja.

So much for the one behind this putting him somewhere he can't kill anyone ever again--not that he feels the need to.

[dustless]

"Hi, Kuja. This...sort of. I mean, it's sort of a prison. I guess..."

They settle into a more comfortable seat on the branch. It's obvious from their voice that they've said this many times before: "It's a castle in the sky. People from lots of different times and timelines and worlds got pulled here, and nobody knows why." They pause, pulling a face and twitching their wings up in an exaggerated sort of shrug. "...and everybody's changing into different things lately. I'm usually a lot more human-looking."

[silvermists]

So am I. Human, that is. I have a dragon, I wasn't one myself.

The dragon-man stretches, standing slowly purely on his hind legs. Prison it may be... but what did the little demon do to deserve it?

You sound rather young for someone who needs to be imprisoned here.

[dustless]

Huh. So Kuja's from somewhere with magic, probably. Good to know.

"Well--it's...not like a jail- prison, just a we're-stuck-here prison. Most people here are really nice and stuff."

[silvermists]

Whatever. He waves a hand-paw, brushing that thought away. It's a very human gesture, would a dragon do that?

Who's behind putting us here? And why, if not punishment?

[dustless]

Heh. Looks weirdly cute.

"We dunno. Anything. People just show up here from different worlds and times and timelines, and we live here. This...change stuff is super new, though. Extra weird even for the castle."

[silvermists]

Just... live here? On this little scrap of land? I've already tried to fly off and ended back right where I began despite flying down... so how is it you feed yourselves? And how many are here?

[dustless]

"Yeah, that happens. 'Nother guy tried that." They shift until they're lying across a few branches, staring at him upside-down. "Dunno how many people're here, exactly. Couple dozen? And there's food that grows in the gardens, and there's cakes in the ballroom, and there's kitchens in some places, but they move. Everything comes back later. I've been here for months and months and nothing ran out."

[silvermists]

Months. Months is most likely the rest of his pitiful life. And it's going to be spent imprisoned, dragon or not.

Still, as he'd told himself earlier, it's no less than what he deserves. There's not a single soul who'd disagree. Three seconds of thought and he's already resigned to it.

I... don't think I can fit through the doors that I've seen. What's inside the castle?

[dustless]

"...Think there's some. Mostly out near the Edge, though. It's just...rooms. All kinds of rooms. Bedrooms, study rooms, kitchens, rooms full of weird stuff like mirrors or horseshoes. Most of them move around, 'cept for the ballroom and the music room and things like that."

(please bear with me iconwise ^^; )

[itstheend]

Don't look now, but you're being watched. A ghost in a blue and purple striped sweater comes across a feathered dragon in a courtyard and is instantly enamoured. They don't know he's sapient, which is why they don't hide in invisibility, and they have no fear of being clawed or bitten, untouchable as they are, so they swoop closer, trying to observe without startling, 'landing' on the courtyard wall on a coiled tail.

"Archaeop-ter-ryx," they whisper. There's almost stars in their eyes. Nevermind he has technically too many limbs for that, along with other discrepancies. They went through a dinosaur phase at some point, and it's all coming back, but there's holes in it.

s'okay, I don't have dragonish icons myself

[silvermists]

Archaep-what? Some otherworldly name for a simple dragon? They're common enough on Gaia--and once on Terra too. Everyone surely knows what a dragon is.

No. Silver dragon.

It's a man's voice. A voice almost seeming to come from inside their own mind, instead of through their ears. After all, a dragon can't speak, not with that mouth.

[itstheend]

It takes a moment for Frisk to realise that the voice is coming from the dragon, and they wonder if this is what it's like for Chara when they speak to them.

"Sorry," they say, looking apologetic and embarrassed. They didn't realise he was a monster, and they really should have, considering they were the Underground's ambassador. They move closer, curious. "Are you always a dragon?" Everybody's switching form left and right here, it seems.

[silvermists]

I'm human. A human mage. Oh, what a lie, but no one is ever going to catch him with his tail not hidden by magic, and so no one will know. This is a wonderful place to reinvent himself again and be nothing but human. Or I was when I fell asleep. I don't look exactly like a true silver dragon, either.

[itstheend]

"You can use magic?" Colour Frisk equal parts intrigued, excited, envious, disturbed and concerned. Human mages put up the Barrier, but magic hasn't been known to humans where they're from for a thousand years. They asked Toriel for lessons, to feel like part of the family a little, and nothing the two of them tried awoke anything in them, no matter how hard they tried.

Frisk had spent the evening after she had told them that perhaps they should stop hidden in the dark underneath their bed, slowly and viciously ripping a piece of paper to bits.

They push the thought away and alight from their perch, circling him. "What does a true silver dragon look like?"

[silvermists]

What an intense reaction--how peculiar. Surely everyone knows someone with magical talent, if they don't have any themselves... But that's Gaia. This is a new alien world, with its own rules. Fortunately he's had experience with discovering a new world all on his own and done it well enough to control it.

You say that like you've never met a mage before. I should be four-footed instead of being able to stand on two, less feathers on my stomach... and my own dragon was large enough to carry passengers.

[itstheend]

"I know mages," Frisk huffs, flat faced, arms folded. "Just... not human ones."

Is that entirely true, though? Is human magic the same as monster magic, or is it different? They think about SAVEs. They think about the odd red glint the Knife and Locket took in Chara's hands, and Chara's bright red eyes, the window to their SOUL.

They try not to feel jealous. They know Chara's life hasn't been made easier by whatever spark of magic they might have, if they have it. They know their eyes have been blamed for a great deal of their pain.

They fail.

"Awww," Frisk says in response to the news, as if they can't fly themself right now. "Maybe it'll change here, if you want." A suggestion entirely born of optimism, but it's there. "It's great isn't it? Flying."

[silvermists]

We have mages of all species back where I... Belong? No. Not his home, that word is also forbidden after what he did to the people of Gaia. And it's not where he was born.

Where I was earlier today. And as a mage, I could fly anytime, with or without my dragon companion.

[itstheend]

All species, and Frisk is instantly charmed by the idea. Was that what it was like before the War, humans and monsters using magic and existing together on the surface.

It sounds wonderful. They dreamed of making it once more reality, to their own death. A hand goes to their chin, thinking. That churning boil of envy isn't going away, but they can ignore it better. After all, they can fly now, can't they.

They don't miss the last second switch, but they don't pry. They know how it can be, with homes.

"So I guess that makes you... pretty fly!" Dear lord here come the finger pistols. "Is it different, flying with and not?"

[silvermists]

With my own wings, as opposed to floating along through the air? Of course it's different. I, personally, would trade wings for being able to go indoors again. ...By the way, who are you? You may call me Kuja.

No need to give a false name, thankfully. No one knows he's the Angel of Death. No one needs to know. He can keep his name and his appearance of humanity, once he figures out how to stop being a dragon.

[itstheend]

"I'm Frisk! Nice to meet you, Kuja." They mean it, too. They put a hand to their chin, thinking.

"Maybe you could... break open the doorways?" Some of the rooms in the Castle might be big enough, leaving only the matter of getting there. They're aware this is a band-aid answer, though.

"Maybe it will wear off," they offer instead. They're secretly hoping not. Chara is... a surprisingly good person, but being smushed up into anyone is ideal for making you want to get as far away from them as possible.

[silvermists]

Frisk? Are you aware there's another calling themselves Frisk here?

Mildly discomforting, that is, like anything which suggest someone's not an individual is to him...

I can shrink, if I get desperate. Remember I'm a mage.