[ This is different--the thought retains itself in his mind. They, he and Niall, have created a flow of battle, natural and perfect, that the frost dragon cannot escape from. There is no circling above the Dragonborn for the frost dragon to catch its breath and strategize: Niall waited above, and tore into the dragon as it tried to rise, claws and weight doing more damage to the already heavily wounded beast.
Both bodies slam into the earth with a magnificent sound, dust and dirt rising to cloud the air. Niall is the one who raises his body upwards--the other dovah nearly cowers in the dirt.
Ah, but not cowering. The other dragon's wing hangs broken, and a wound in its thigh bleeds heavily, even now. It struggles to rise hopelessly, until hope is fled. Even if it could still fly, it is no longer strong enough to do so, and there is yet still one who would tear it down. ]
Daar los, Nehnahlmey? Mu kos dov! Mu kos zeymah!
[ What is this? the dragon would ask. We are dragonkind! We are brothers!
How ridiculous. It makes Alain angry for a reason he is not willing to speak.
--And yet he does, for the first time wasting words on a nameless dragon. ]
Hin sos los ni ok.
[ It is spat, those words, with no true focus on wording. Your blood is not his, Alain deigns to reply. For Niall is--
Alain's sword swings down at the neck of the creature, even as fire blooms in his hand to burn the creature's life away. ]
...He is not yours to call that.
[ Brother. Bonded. What had Durnehviir said in the Soul Cairn? Even now, Alain speaks to a corpse. ]
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Both bodies slam into the earth with a magnificent sound, dust and dirt rising to cloud the air. Niall is the one who raises his body upwards--the other dovah nearly cowers in the dirt.
Ah, but not cowering. The other dragon's wing hangs broken, and a wound in its thigh bleeds heavily, even now. It struggles to rise hopelessly, until hope is fled. Even if it could still fly, it is no longer strong enough to do so, and there is yet still one who would tear it down. ]
Daar los, Nehnahlmey? Mu kos dov! Mu kos zeymah!
[ What is this? the dragon would ask. We are dragonkind! We are brothers!
How ridiculous. It makes Alain angry for a reason he is not willing to speak.
--And yet he does, for the first time wasting words on a nameless dragon. ]
Hin sos los ni ok.
[ It is spat, those words, with no true focus on wording. Your blood is not his, Alain deigns to reply. For Niall is--
Alain's sword swings down at the neck of the creature, even as fire blooms in his hand to burn the creature's life away. ]
...He is not yours to call that.
[ Brother. Bonded. What had Durnehviir said in the Soul Cairn? Even now, Alain speaks to a corpse. ]
...He is my Grah-Zeymahzin.
[ My ally. My brother. ]