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How abhorrent.

[ An agreement, even so, the repeat falls flat. Alain is not his usual self. ]

Almighty, am I? One would be hard-pressed to find another to echo your claims. Why have I sought you out, oh, dragon of the watchful eye?

[ He tilts his head up to seek the dragon's gaze. ]

Because I have no other, my friend.

[Perhaps scores of mortals and immortals alike would deny the title. In turn, they would deny the truth. The tone given is solemn, a rare instance of humility for a creature built upon pride.]

You sit on top of the bones of my brethren. Power speaks through your destruction, and for Dov, power is truth.

[The thought is enough for Nehnahlmey to relent, to open his eyes long enough to meet the man's. To remain silent in contemplation.

Finally:]

Your only choice, am I? Truly, you must have followers enough to fill your nonexistent hall.

[ His mouth thins; there is something of discomfort in his expression. That, and frustration, locked away. ]

Power not mine learned through discipline, but granted through nothing of my own accord. Would you still call that true power, Niall, when I have never sacrificed to gain it?

[ Alain has committed countless sacrifices, to be certain. But for that ability, that lineage, that power? None so willingly. ]

...I don't want followers, empty-headed and full of the sounds of others.

[ He only wants one, to complement him in ways he has yet to know. ]

Do not be so hasty as to declare such things. There is always a sacrifice, Dovahkiin.

[Willing or unwilling, taken or given, there exists a loss for a gain, a gain for a loss.]

Then what is your criteria?

[What is it that Alain truly wants?]

[ The dragon is wise, Alain will never attest this, and he ponders the words before replying. ]

...Is it in haste? My life must be a moment's span to you. I have thought on these things for months, Sundas to Loredas every week, from when Alduin's arrogance saved me in Frostfall of the year prior unto now. I don't speak from emotion, watchful one, but from contemplation. What of value has been taken for me to receive such an unwanted gift?

[ It is more than Alain usually says in one sitting, and one than he's ever said on the subject. It is said with quiet contemplation and calm, and yet, to one observing, perhaps an edge of sorrow could be seen dulling the words.

Is it because of that, that Alain is not watchful of his words? ]

Perhaps I seek one to call as close as blood.

[ Family. Of the like that Alain, despite his extended bloodline, has yet to see. ]

[Nehnahlmey understands, somewhat. Mortality is far from him, but the dragon can see the place where Alain's mind lies. This is enough for him to carefully form his response, to make a strange attempt at comfort. For Nehnahlmey, the one who watches, can see the softness in those words. The sadness contained therein.

Is it this that keeps him from finding what is sought? One to call as close as blood.]

You are unhappy. You've yet to find purpose in being the Dragonborn.

[But in the same breath, the dragon cannot dismiss the insinuation. That the gift Akatosh bestowed upon dragons and chosen humans could be seen as "unwanted". That Alain's life is but a moment.

It is upsetting.

The dragon falls to silence.]

Purpose.

[ He muses to the dragon's silence. And yet voices a truth he has yet to say. ]

...Perhaps it is only that I wish to seek my own path. Not one whose stones have been placed by another.

[This annoys him for reasons unnamed, for reasons not as clear to mortal logic.]

The dragons carve their own destiny, named after we've shown the truth of our being.

[Not like these mortals, who name at birth.]

Dovahkiin is the same. You do not have to follow the cast of another's light.

[So why feel burdened by a nonexistent weight?]

Edited 2013-06-21 06:10 (UTC)

And yet Dovahkiin-- [ He had heard it so much: It is the only word he pronounces correctly every time. ] --is not my truth. It is yet another's. A title given to me, not the name of my being.

[ It is something he thinks of, while time passes by. ]

I don't have a name to define me so easily. And your kind is faulty as well: Never living fool does not suit you, Niall.

[ And yet none of these are the actual point, and Alain takes his time in coming to it. Because he has never responded to any of these prophecies aloud, because he has never stated one way or another what he believes. And yet.

And yet. ]

The Dragonborn is to fight Alduin and save Tamriel, is he not? I cannot just choose to sit idly by. It is yet another choice that...

[ Has been taken from me. His expression fills with something close to mourning. ]

...That I do not have.

[Not his truth. So Alain yearns not simply for life. Nor meaning. The man looks for things utterly his own. It makes a dragon wonder about the origin, how Alain would find volition to be scarce in his life.

The topic of names Nehnahlmey sets aside. Instead, he would ask a question.]

What would you rather do? If you had your choice.

Edited 2013-06-22 08:08 (UTC)

[ Alain could scoff. No one would blame him, and most would expect it. He could refuse, or call uselessness.

He leans forward and twists around until he's facing the dragon instead of leaning against him, and puts a palm out for the dragon to press his head into. ]

Explore. Chart unmarked land, and find adventures deep in the places others dare not go. Find the mysteries that surround Tamriel, and seek to understand them, if but marginally. Seek creatures unseen by mortal eyes, and barter with beings best not encountered. Build a home, raise cattle, gain a heir to do what they will as well. Ride with dragons, and speak their language. See the pinnacle of the world, and dive from it in a rush of wings. Go to the very edges of the land, and decide only then if I will come back from it.

[Alain could scoff. Nehnahlmey does, exhaling a puff of air that reeks of disbelief. The palm offered is still taken; a head presses recklessly as if to prove a point.

His words are to a question unanswered.]

So the Elder Scrolls foretold it: "When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding, the World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn." You cannot sit idly by-- Perhaps that is true.

[His tail swishes, bumping against rock walls.]

Or perhaps you are a greater fool than I to allow another's definition to crowd your own. You are the Dragonborn, Dovahkiin. Your hair is white, and you are made of soft flesh. You would mourn that these have been taken from you as well?

[The dragon stills, all eight eyes settling on the man.]

You are what you make of yourself. Go do what you most desire. You have already proven you are above other truths: we are friends, are we not?

[When they are declared mortal enemies.]

Edited 2013-07-10 18:37 (UTC)

[ The dragon gives a speech enough to cancel his much-loved name: Niall speaks nothing that is foolish, and much that is wise. And that shows, enough for another to tell on Alain's face--surprise graces his expression, and realization.

For it is true, is it not? His hair and skin are things he was born with, and this, if the Greybeards were to be believed, is much the same. The Dragonborn is born with a dragon's soul, and it is only time and circumstance that brings that to life.

Against everything, Alain smiles for a moment. ]

...No, I won't mourn. Your onikaan betrays you: You are right, of course. And you are my friend.

[ The Dragonborn says, and moves a hand softly against pebbled flesh. ]

One of the things I desire most.

[Three aspects affect the dragon, three that transcend what came before. First, the man would speak a word in the dragon's tongue. He would speak it with utter perfection, lacking the flaws that once grated Nehnahlmey's tender sensibilities. Would claim the opposite of the dragon's name.

Onikaan. Wisdom.

Second, the man would smile. He would grace a hand against the dragon's head, and the dragon would thrum openly without thinking. He closes his eight eyes and thinks of nothing else.

Except for the third. Except Alain would affirm friendship and desire in a single breath, the first of a kind, and Nehnahlmey--

He panics. The creature pulls his head back to the open cavern and with a rush of wind, takes to the sky. In a heartbeat, he disappears above the clouds.]

[ The sound filled the cavern, a deep, harmonious purr, and Alain had never heard it before, that sound, from any beast. And here, from Niall--

He wished to stroke the dragon more, if it made the other make that sound. Close his eyes with such a calm expression. He lifted his other hand up, to continue the motions--

And that was when Niall reared back. Expression something between surprise and fear, the dragon took off with such ferocity that the Dragonborn himself was very nearly knocked off his feet.

It's almost a week later. As much time as it's taken for Alain to travel from the northern reaches of Hjalmarch down through the Hold of Whiterun and up onto the mountain called the Throat of the World.

For there is one place a cowardly, fleeing dragon would run to, and from Alain's experience, one only.

He would bet the Sanguine Rose he had won recently on that. ]

[For a dragon reeking of pacifism, there exists none better as a safe haven than High Hrothgar, the home of the reclusive Greybeards. Nehnahlmey makes it a rule to visit when he is at unbalanced footing, for reasons he's kept buried since the time of Jurgen Windcaller and his newfound philosophy.

Of course, in spite of his near-perfect memory, he cannot recall those reasons now. Here, his presence exists as something unknown, and even the Greybeards are perplexed at this development. At the quiet dragon peering over the cliffs in the courtyard, who occasionally speaks up to ask an inane question.

Like how does one react to a mortal's affections?

Thus, when an angry Dragonborn arrives at the entrance, Arngeir takes it upon himself to approach the dragon with a choice: grant Alain an audience or turn him away?

The hesitation is brief, but Nehnahlmey eventually consents to a meeting.]

[ Delayed by the Greybeards. Alain would be surprised if he didn't already know the men's allegiance. They were truer to Niall than to the Dragonborn, and they would continue to be, as long as the dragon continued to be more peaceful than the man.

Alain was a product of men's devices, and enjoyed fighting as much as the rest. He did not seek out dragons overly much, but hesitated not at all in dispatching them.

Why would the Greybeards not be wary? Alain has had dealings with Delphine, and she has made no secret of her hatred for the leader of their order.

Yet Alain, as always, cares naught for the politics around him. As stated to Niall, his desires are far more simple, and lack the complexities of others.

For a moment, he considers using the thu'um learned first and continuing along without these delays.

But Arngeir returns after only a moment's time, and with a singular phrase of warning, the monk relents the path ahead.

Speak with kindness, the man had offered in advice. As if Alain had done anything but.

He approaches the giant dragon, remaining behind and to the side, and stares at the old men until they leave the courtyard, taking their time. The stare is then turned to the back of an unfathomable dragon, but like before, like always, Alain keeps to silence.

He has said enough, and has gained nothing for his words. ]

[Skyrim is naught but an empty landscape from the Throat of the World, a blur from Nehnahlmey's vantage. It is a view seen time and again, and still, the dragon never ceases his watching. It has yet to falter as a comfort.

When he feels the presence of one he suddenly fears, the creature does not move from his place. He continues watching until everything else melts away. Until all falls to silence.

It is then he chances a question, one that has been floating in his mind for days.]

Am I your friend?

[ It is a silent sigh that resounds in Alain's mind, and it is with that, that the Dragonborn moves closer, to stand at Niall's shoulder.

Perhaps he would have placed a hand against flesh if circumstances were different. Perhaps not at all, with their location. ]

Would my friend flee from me when we were discussing my misgivings and fears?

[A question to answer a question. Alain stands near, and Nehnahlmey finds he is paralyzed.

Yet slipping in unnatural calm.]

...It was not your misgivings and fears that caused me to flee.

[ It is only this that calls him to look at the dragon, to pierce him through with his unnatural gaze. ]

It remains. Would you call yourself my friend if you fled while I was being honest?

[A beat of silence overtakes the creature. A beat and nothing more.]

I do not know. I have never known a friend.

[ A thin eyebrow raises. Alain maintains his neutral ken. ]

And yet you have never hesitated in using that to define you and I.

[Here, Nehnahlmey would finally face Alain.]

Yes, I called you friend. Fahdon. You are my friend.

But to be called one in return... It is different.

[ Here. Here, when the dragon turns to look on Alain's visage, this is when his patience breaks. When a rarely seen anger pieces the calm.

He cannot say why that is.

His words escape in a hiss instead of a yell. He wants no attention, even now. ]

I have called you that before, Niall! Only that day, I had, a few times over. If that is your reasoning, it calls as weak.

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