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

(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.

[itstheend]

"Yeah, I met them." How they feel about that is a mess of complicated feelings they don't want to bother with right now, so they don't. "I didn't know mages could shrink!" It's equal parts excited and indignant how-was-I-supposed-to-know. Most monsters can't do that.

[silvermists]

It's not bragging if it's the truth, however arrogant it sounds without any damn proof: I sincerely doubt you've met any mages like myself. I never have. I've always had enough talent for ten men. No one else came close.

[itstheend]

Frisk recalls a legend.

'But I bet you can't shrink as small as a mouse,' he said. 'Surely that's beyond you!' 'You'll lose that bet, for no one's as accomplished as I' the shapeshifter said, and demonstrated, and was trapped in a jar.

Or something like that. But they wouldn't do that to him. Not unless it became warranted. It'd be rude. They've no problem with bragging; he reminds them a little of Papyrus in that respect.

"If you're that good a mage, you must be a great teacher," they say instead, circling closer.

[silvermists]

He laughs, using his real dragon's voice and showing a mouthful of nasty fangs, more innocently than threatening. Human in a dragon's skin, trying to be semi-polite, not scary.

If I felt like it, if my student had natural talent, maybe I would be.

[itstheend]

FATALITY.

Ouch, right in the sore spot.

The fangs and the laugh don't bother them, growing up with monsters as they have but that... hits home a little.

"I have this friend," they say instead because of course they don't have talent hahaha it was stupid of them to think that. That they could. "They're called Chara, and they can make a knife glow red and cut anything." A slight exaggeration, but true. "They're really interested in magic! Maybe they'd like a lesson."

Sorry Chara, you've been Recommended.

[silvermists]

...They, as in plural? Odd way to talk about someone. He shakes his head as if trying to get rid of cobwebs, confusion not really able to show up on a dragon face.

That does sound like a little talent. Is magic so rare in your homeland no one else can teach them?

[itstheend]

Frisk looks down and away, fiddling with their ethereal sweater sleeves.

"After, um. After monsters were sealed away, humans forgot how to use it. And um I think... anyone people thought had it were killed, ages back. Because they were like monsters."

So, yes, you could say that.

"I dunno how rare it is but. I thought it wasn't real. Fake. Until I met monsters."

[silvermists]

...Monster must mean something different in your homeland. And your mages have to have been rather pathetic to die off so easily. One of the first things I learned was how to heal myself from almost any injury.

Rude, even if true. Hardly the meanest thing he ever said, though. Not by a long shot.

[itstheend]

"Monsters are people made of magic!" Frisk has instantly perked up. They can extol monsters all day. "They're really good and nice. Much better than humans."

Or so Frisk thought. The Underground has changed in disturbing ways since their death. But they're still better.

At the pathetic comment, Frisk's face closes off into an unreadable flatline. "S'nothing that can't be killed," they say, largely emotionless in tone except for a faint edge of a gentle reminder. Boy howdy have they learned that. Everything can kill or be killed.

[silvermists]

What does he care about offending some child? Half his mind is elsewhere, worrying (worrying! still!) about someone else.

And yet he shouldn't make enemies. He doesn't want to, really, in a small confined space where he's probably going to wither away and die. Odds are his magic will fade first. Why make it miserable for himself?

His demeanor slowly turns a little friendlier. Just don't mind the fangs and claws. You're a human. Aren't you? When the magic here isn't messing with your looks?

[itstheend]

They're not offended so much as... just think he's wrong.

"I don't know what I am," they say without thinking, still caught in memory. "I mean, yes! Yeah."

They're in Chara, and Chara is human, so that's close enough, right?

[silvermists]

...Somehow your first answer sounded more true. Still, I'm human. Not a monster, not an animal race, not made of magic. That doesn't mean I'm worse than anyone else.

It's a damn touchy subject, he has to force himself to be polite and calm... Nevermind if things go well, he'll only be known as human. He's not worse for being the wrong species! For murdering half the planet, sure, but he can't help his origins.

[itstheend]

"Monsters are made of love and hope and compassion," Frisk says, softly. They're not intending to hit buttons here, and so they're trying to say it as mildly as possible. "They need it to live. Humans aren't worse, monsters're just better. It's not anyone's fault."

They aren't as misanthropic as Chara, but they still know where their friend is coming from.

"You're not bad if you're human," they say. "Humans just do bad things more."