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moonsheenOrific. 1,546 words. Wren's Make Prey-verse. This probably won't make sense to anyone but me and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chirachira, but the short of it? Boy Gets Caught In Snow Storm. Boy Finds Cave. Boy Finds Baby Dragon Sleeping In Cave. Boy Decides Baby Dragon Would Make A Very Good Warm Blanket.
The following ensues.
Horatio had overestimated how long the dragon would sleep, because when he woke it was staring down at him. Drunk on warmth, more comfortable than he’d been in days, the most Horatio could do was stare back. He noticed he was still half tucked under its wing, that its neck was craned around to look at him, and that its eyes were a bright, bloody red. It also had, strangely enough, black fuzz that stuck up behind its knobby horns. Horatio could have laughed. So, dragons had bed hair too. A straggle of it was dangling over its brow, which brought Horatio back to the eyes---very large, and very bloody looking, and that was when it occurred to him that this might be a problem.
“Erm. Hullo,” he said. “This is awkward. Nice to meet you. Please don’t eat me.”
And everyone knew that dragons could speak, so it was not such a surprise when this one answered: “I shall try. But I am hungry.”
“I have jerky.”
“What sort? Not fowl, I hope.”
“No. Goat.”
“Hm. That will do.” The dragon opened its mouth expectantly. The rows of sharp, white teeth were there, of course. That wasn’t so alarming. The long pink tongue that waggled between them somehow was. Horatio swallowed, arm frozen in his pouch.
“Promise?” The impatient tongue was gone. Horatio felt braver for that. He met the dragon’s eyes over the length of its snout.
“You have to promise not to follow it up with me.”
The dragon huffed. Smoke spurted from its nostrils. “I had not intended it. You are very thin, and I have questions.”
Considering what he’d said earlier, this seemed a bit of a lie. “I’ll answer those too, if you promise.”
“I promise. You shall give me jerky now.” Horatio pulled his arm out of his pouch and tossed the contents in the general direction of that wedge shaped head. He didn’t quite trust the dragon’s accuracy in taking it out of his hand. Munching sounds soon filled the cavern.
“This is not bad. I do prefer cow, but that is rare up here, so I did not expect you’d have it. It is very cold. Why did not you not change?”
The dragon had decided it was time for questions. Horatio blinked out of his warm torpor. “Change?”
The dragon stuck out a paw, splaying it out on the stone floor. It looked crossed between a cat and a bird’s in design, except with five claws and awfully large for the rest of its body. “Like this. It seems silly not to.”
The claw curled in on itself and drew back against the dragon’s chest. “Oh,” said Horatio. “I can’t do that.” For a moment, he wondered if he ought to have lied and said he just didn’t feel like it, but somehow it hadn’t seemed the smartest bluff to make. At any rate, the dragon’s interest in him suddenly doubled, and it felt like a good idea to keep it like that. The dragon sniffed him, curiously.
“Truly? That is odd. You must not know how. You are a boy like me. All boys I know change.”
“With all due respect,” said Horatio, pulling out another piece of meat make this clear. “You’re not a boy. You’re a dragon.”
That answered the question of gender, though. It’d been hard to tell from the voice, which was high and fluty. It got higher and flutier, as the dragon swiped up the dried meat indignantly. “I am not mistaken. I am a boy.” He swallowed with such a petulant toss of his head that Horatio did laugh. The dragon stared. It was as though no one had ever laughed at him before. Probably, no one had.
“You look like a dragon,” said Horatio, covering his mouth.
“Of course I do. And it is strange that you do not.” The dragon licked his chops. Horatio produced another strip. The dragon didn’t see it immediately, too occupied with rearranging his worldview. “All boys I know can look like dragons if it pleases them. They are princes, like me. You are a prince, are you not?”
“No, Your Majesty.” It was funny how much easier it was to accept a dragon’s claim to royalty than a claim to boyhood. His family had called the dragon that ruled their home peaks Count Malvolio, after all. “Just an orphan. Just me.”
“Hm. Then I suppose it is something only princes can do.”
“I’m not sure that’s right either...”
The dragon’s nose was right up near his face again. So close that for a second Horatio could feel the surprisingly soft and dainty scales stretched between his nostrils. “What’s an orphan?”
It was a cruel and tactless question, but there was such genuine curiosity in it Horatio found he could not take offense. He thought of his mother, ached, and answered: “An orphan is a boy without parents.”
“No? How were you born, then?”
“Not like that. I mean. An orphan is a boy who had parents, but then they died.”
“Oh.” There were rings in his eyes, Horatio noticed. Darker red within the red. His reflection seemed awfully plump in that glassy distortion. “Then I am one of these ‘orphans’ as well. My parents are both dead and I never knew them.”
“I’m sorry.”
The dragon gave him a blank look. “Why?”
“Because it’s sad.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
This was news to the dragon, who scratched the underside of his chin thoughtfully. “Hm,” he said. “Well, In the future, I shall try to be sad about it. Anyway, I have my grandmother, and the Cousins, and they are enough. Do you have those?”
“Wouldn’t be here if I did.”
“I am sorry,” said the dragon, carefully.
He tried so hard to say it like Horatio had that Horatio had to bite the inside of his cheek. “S’allright,” he said, offering up the forgotten jerky. He worried less about the dragon taking off his hand. He picked the meat up with a deft flick of that whip-like tongue.
“Still, I am glad,” said the dragon, less carefully. His mouth was full, brown flakes sticking out from between his scaly lips. “If you do not have parents that means there shall be less fuss.”
It was now Horatio’s turn to look baffled.
“About keeping you,” the dragon explained. He crossed his forepaws importantly. “I have decided, you see. You are interesting, and therefore you are to be mine. The storm is clearing. I shall take you back to the palace with me.”
Horatio frowned. “Just like that, huh.”
“It will be simple. Grandmother will not object. I am the crown prince, you see. I am allowed to have nice things.”
“Your Majesty honors me with his title of thingdom. But what if I’m not sure I want to go?”
The dragon blew out a bewildered smoke ring. “Why ever not? It will be much warmer than this place. And I shall feed you.”
“But who will I feed, is what I’m wondering?”
This caused such a sudden stir in the young dragon that Horatio was sure that he’d finally gone too far. The dragon’s wings extended with a sound like a wet sheet. His tail gave a loud flop against the stone. In short, it was a dragon’s tantrum in miniature. Horatio pushed himself out of the way and handled it the way his mother used to handle him when he used to throw a royal fit.
“More jerky?” he asked.
“I have already said,” the dragon settled back onto his belly, leaving the one wing unfurled at his side, “that I would not eat you. And none of the Cousins will, either. They know better than to touch things that are mine, and should they try I shall beat them. Or ask Grandmother to do so. You will have a large room and good clothes. Must you be so strange?”
“Well. It’s been a strange day. And I’m almost out of food for you,” Horatio admitted. This was problematic, as he’d hoped those stores would be enough to get him to the village on the other side of the peak. It seemed, like with the dragon, he’d overestimated. “And my name’s Horatio. If you’re going to take me to this warm place, and feed me, I’d like you to know that.”
He picked up the end of the dragon’s wing, lifted it, and scooted back under. The dragon didn’t find anything objectionable about this. He nearly immediately curled back around the boy. That was when Horatio realized he must’ve been feeling the cold, too. He was so small, by dragon standards; his skin must not have been too thick.
“I am Prince Malcolm,” he said. “But you may call me Malcolm. You are mine now, so I grant you that privilege.”
“Malcolm,” mumbled Horatio. He slouched against his flank. What an ordinary name for a dragon, he thought. Almost like a boy’s. He must’ve said it out loud, because he heard the dragon’s stubborn reply of “Well that’s because I am one!” but Horatio didn’t hear much else after that. He’d fallen fast asleep, and didn’t wake again until the snow had stopped and the dragon butted him soundly in the chest.
chirachira, but the short of it? Boy Gets Caught In Snow Storm. Boy Finds Cave. Boy Finds Baby Dragon Sleeping In Cave. Boy Decides Baby Dragon Would Make A Very Good Warm Blanket. The following ensues.
Horatio had overestimated how long the dragon would sleep, because when he woke it was staring down at him. Drunk on warmth, more comfortable than he’d been in days, the most Horatio could do was stare back. He noticed he was still half tucked under its wing, that its neck was craned around to look at him, and that its eyes were a bright, bloody red. It also had, strangely enough, black fuzz that stuck up behind its knobby horns. Horatio could have laughed. So, dragons had bed hair too. A straggle of it was dangling over its brow, which brought Horatio back to the eyes---very large, and very bloody looking, and that was when it occurred to him that this might be a problem.
“Erm. Hullo,” he said. “This is awkward. Nice to meet you. Please don’t eat me.”
And everyone knew that dragons could speak, so it was not such a surprise when this one answered: “I shall try. But I am hungry.”
“I have jerky.”
“What sort? Not fowl, I hope.”
“No. Goat.”
“Hm. That will do.” The dragon opened its mouth expectantly. The rows of sharp, white teeth were there, of course. That wasn’t so alarming. The long pink tongue that waggled between them somehow was. Horatio swallowed, arm frozen in his pouch.
“Promise?” The impatient tongue was gone. Horatio felt braver for that. He met the dragon’s eyes over the length of its snout.
“You have to promise not to follow it up with me.”
The dragon huffed. Smoke spurted from its nostrils. “I had not intended it. You are very thin, and I have questions.”
Considering what he’d said earlier, this seemed a bit of a lie. “I’ll answer those too, if you promise.”
“I promise. You shall give me jerky now.” Horatio pulled his arm out of his pouch and tossed the contents in the general direction of that wedge shaped head. He didn’t quite trust the dragon’s accuracy in taking it out of his hand. Munching sounds soon filled the cavern.
“This is not bad. I do prefer cow, but that is rare up here, so I did not expect you’d have it. It is very cold. Why did not you not change?”
The dragon had decided it was time for questions. Horatio blinked out of his warm torpor. “Change?”
The dragon stuck out a paw, splaying it out on the stone floor. It looked crossed between a cat and a bird’s in design, except with five claws and awfully large for the rest of its body. “Like this. It seems silly not to.”
The claw curled in on itself and drew back against the dragon’s chest. “Oh,” said Horatio. “I can’t do that.” For a moment, he wondered if he ought to have lied and said he just didn’t feel like it, but somehow it hadn’t seemed the smartest bluff to make. At any rate, the dragon’s interest in him suddenly doubled, and it felt like a good idea to keep it like that. The dragon sniffed him, curiously.
“Truly? That is odd. You must not know how. You are a boy like me. All boys I know change.”
“With all due respect,” said Horatio, pulling out another piece of meat make this clear. “You’re not a boy. You’re a dragon.”
That answered the question of gender, though. It’d been hard to tell from the voice, which was high and fluty. It got higher and flutier, as the dragon swiped up the dried meat indignantly. “I am not mistaken. I am a boy.” He swallowed with such a petulant toss of his head that Horatio did laugh. The dragon stared. It was as though no one had ever laughed at him before. Probably, no one had.
“You look like a dragon,” said Horatio, covering his mouth.
“Of course I do. And it is strange that you do not.” The dragon licked his chops. Horatio produced another strip. The dragon didn’t see it immediately, too occupied with rearranging his worldview. “All boys I know can look like dragons if it pleases them. They are princes, like me. You are a prince, are you not?”
“No, Your Majesty.” It was funny how much easier it was to accept a dragon’s claim to royalty than a claim to boyhood. His family had called the dragon that ruled their home peaks Count Malvolio, after all. “Just an orphan. Just me.”
“Hm. Then I suppose it is something only princes can do.”
“I’m not sure that’s right either...”
The dragon’s nose was right up near his face again. So close that for a second Horatio could feel the surprisingly soft and dainty scales stretched between his nostrils. “What’s an orphan?”
It was a cruel and tactless question, but there was such genuine curiosity in it Horatio found he could not take offense. He thought of his mother, ached, and answered: “An orphan is a boy without parents.”
“No? How were you born, then?”
“Not like that. I mean. An orphan is a boy who had parents, but then they died.”
“Oh.” There were rings in his eyes, Horatio noticed. Darker red within the red. His reflection seemed awfully plump in that glassy distortion. “Then I am one of these ‘orphans’ as well. My parents are both dead and I never knew them.”
“I’m sorry.”
The dragon gave him a blank look. “Why?”
“Because it’s sad.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
This was news to the dragon, who scratched the underside of his chin thoughtfully. “Hm,” he said. “Well, In the future, I shall try to be sad about it. Anyway, I have my grandmother, and the Cousins, and they are enough. Do you have those?”
“Wouldn’t be here if I did.”
“I am sorry,” said the dragon, carefully.
He tried so hard to say it like Horatio had that Horatio had to bite the inside of his cheek. “S’allright,” he said, offering up the forgotten jerky. He worried less about the dragon taking off his hand. He picked the meat up with a deft flick of that whip-like tongue.
“Still, I am glad,” said the dragon, less carefully. His mouth was full, brown flakes sticking out from between his scaly lips. “If you do not have parents that means there shall be less fuss.”
It was now Horatio’s turn to look baffled.
“About keeping you,” the dragon explained. He crossed his forepaws importantly. “I have decided, you see. You are interesting, and therefore you are to be mine. The storm is clearing. I shall take you back to the palace with me.”
Horatio frowned. “Just like that, huh.”
“It will be simple. Grandmother will not object. I am the crown prince, you see. I am allowed to have nice things.”
“Your Majesty honors me with his title of thingdom. But what if I’m not sure I want to go?”
The dragon blew out a bewildered smoke ring. “Why ever not? It will be much warmer than this place. And I shall feed you.”
“But who will I feed, is what I’m wondering?”
This caused such a sudden stir in the young dragon that Horatio was sure that he’d finally gone too far. The dragon’s wings extended with a sound like a wet sheet. His tail gave a loud flop against the stone. In short, it was a dragon’s tantrum in miniature. Horatio pushed himself out of the way and handled it the way his mother used to handle him when he used to throw a royal fit.
“More jerky?” he asked.
“I have already said,” the dragon settled back onto his belly, leaving the one wing unfurled at his side, “that I would not eat you. And none of the Cousins will, either. They know better than to touch things that are mine, and should they try I shall beat them. Or ask Grandmother to do so. You will have a large room and good clothes. Must you be so strange?”
“Well. It’s been a strange day. And I’m almost out of food for you,” Horatio admitted. This was problematic, as he’d hoped those stores would be enough to get him to the village on the other side of the peak. It seemed, like with the dragon, he’d overestimated. “And my name’s Horatio. If you’re going to take me to this warm place, and feed me, I’d like you to know that.”
He picked up the end of the dragon’s wing, lifted it, and scooted back under. The dragon didn’t find anything objectionable about this. He nearly immediately curled back around the boy. That was when Horatio realized he must’ve been feeling the cold, too. He was so small, by dragon standards; his skin must not have been too thick.
“I am Prince Malcolm,” he said. “But you may call me Malcolm. You are mine now, so I grant you that privilege.”
“Malcolm,” mumbled Horatio. He slouched against his flank. What an ordinary name for a dragon, he thought. Almost like a boy’s. He must’ve said it out loud, because he heard the dragon’s stubborn reply of “Well that’s because I am one!” but Horatio didn’t hear much else after that. He’d fallen fast asleep, and didn’t wake again until the snow had stopped and the dragon butted him soundly in the chest.
