abstracts | hearthfire for dummies, a closed production

[At the man's uncertainty, the dragon pays no mind. It is a detail to slip into the background for another time; he would rather take to the sky now than analyze the response.

Eight eyes follow the Dragonborn's movements with unnatural precision.]

Do beasts of burden extend such proposals?

[No, mortals ride them without their consent. The meaning is straightforward. Nehnahlmey is allowing it for this one occurrence. That is all.]

[ He cannot take it from his own mind: That this is strange, and provokes an intimacy Alain is not sure is held between them. But the worth of contesting further is null. There is no point in arguing such a thing without a valid point to offer.

He nods once, acquiescing, and when Niall lowers his head, Alain finds holds among the spikes and ridges along the dragon's shoulder, and pulls himself up without allowing himself any hesitation.

It is only when he is situated at the base of the dragon's long neck, before the fine bones of his wings that Alain exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. ]

[The lack of further argument pleases the creature, who lowers his head to allow for easy access. The weight of a mortal proves unnerving, and for a brief instance, Nehnahlmey questions the sensibility of his choice. To allow a human an act abhorrent to much and many.

In the end, he remembers who Alain is. The dragon recalls the entirety of their bond and learns to set misgivings aside.

He takes to the sky cautiously, showing care not to dislodge his passenger. The process requires moments for adjustment, seconds for calculations, before the creature flies toward their destination at a speed slower than what he is used to.

It takes a day to reach Alain's unfinished home. Though the temptation exists to knock the structure down, Nehnahlmey opts for consideration and lands a safe distance away.]

[ Humans are not prone to flight, dragon-blooded or no. To Alain's knowledge, there is no thu'um that gives the user that ability--Wuld-Nah-Kest, Whirlwind Sprint, is likely the closest he would ever naturally come.

To be atop Niall, as he moves through the air, is something different altogether.

For a moment, when the dragon rises, there is fear, fear where Alain has never felt any before. It has never been that he has feared the dragon, even when he assumed them enemies, but here, in the air, where a long fall would effortlessly end his life, he wonders at the dragon's loyalties.

And when Niall moves towards Hjalmarch without delay, Alain feels shame for the first time in a long while for doubting. His hands seek crevices to slip and hold onto as the wind moves past them, and he restrains the urge to lay his head down against scales to take in the sights instead. To Whiterun, rolling away beneath them. The mountains separating Hjalmarch from the previous hold are a far more unique sight, and where perhaps another might have taken to words, they prove unnecessary with Alain. They would lessen it, he thinks; to mutter awe in the human tongue.

It's the first time he's thought as such, of that separation, and he nearly misses Morthal slipping beneath them. He's still thinking over that concept of distance when Niall circles to land near the ruins a short distance away from his house.

For a moment, Alain remains where he is, comfortable in a way natural and unknown.

Then he remembers himself, and moves to dismount from the dragon before he offends. ]

[Time passes before the man moves, and the dragon accommodates to allow for easier dismount. Then he stretches, cracking joints and unknotting knots formed during a day's flight, working from claws to head to back to wings. It is here, he realizes, that a passenger makes for physical strain on an otherwise magical exercise.

It is strange. And somehow calls back to a memory.]

You've ridden a dragon. You've fulfilled one of your desires.

[ --Alain flushes fully at the words chosen.

The man swallows and fights to regain dignity. His leathers are brushed off, pouches are checked, and a certain amulet is tucked back under his tunic. Throughout all of this he fights an odd kind of nervousness, unknown to him previously. ]

You are my friend, Niall.

[ It is spoken without prelude, the answers to the questions asked atop that mountain. ]

And I am yours, for as long as we remain in existence. Ours is a true bond, no matter our race. And you are not a coward.

[ The Dragonborn adds, despite Niall's taste for pacifism. Only here does Alain look up, and he adds further. ]

...You are no fool either.

[Crimson colors the man's skin as a familiar amulet catches one's attentions, reaction and action sparking as attractive in the dragon's mind. Alain Ebon must be pleased to realize that truth, cared enough about the other to do so, and Nehnahlmey, the Never Living Fool, is content on behalf of another. A strange fact for a dragon, perhaps, but he has always been strange compared to his brethren.

Except the next words reveal his race's lack of experience in affections. He stares outright at Alain, mind breaking at various points. At the affirmation of a true bond of friendship. At the rejection of titles and names.

It is not something Nehnahlmey had expected.]

Ni fah unslaad, Alain, but for the length of our existence. It is--

[Something desired.]

--my want.

Edited 2013-07-11 17:28 (UTC)

[ The line is repeated from over a day before, and in the waning light, Alain wonders what is seen. He wonders on what is meant, in the dying day, for once the dragon had told him-- ]

I had thought you didn't hold to wants, Niall.

[Indeed, he had claimed as such. The dragon, however, isn't as arrogant as some may be in this.]

Time breeds change. I have grown to care.

[ It is perhaps the honest admittance that shifts the Dragonborn. That pulls the man away from pride and misgivings.

As a week prior, Alain holds a hand out, palm towards the dragon. ]

[The gesture is known. A breath is taken in full before Nehnahlmey leans down, snout settling against the outstretched hand.

He makes the smallest, saddest of sounds.]

[ ...The sound pulls at something inside of him in a way unwanted. His other hand comes up to rest under the dragon's chin as the one atop his nose moves in a stroking motion.

It's slow, and slightly hesitant, for the last time Alain did so the dragon fled, but it is something wanted, all the same. ]

[Kindness is an aspect attributed to Alain, despite his oft ways of restraint. Nehnahlmey would attest.

Here, he would slip back into a thrum, a quieter version of the one given a week prior.]

[ The motions pause at the sound before continuing more confidently. His hand runs over the ridges on the dragon's head, and his words are a quiet sound. ]

You haven't fled this time.

[It takes beats before the dragon can find his mind again, before he closes his eyes to relax.]

There is nothing to flee from here.

[ There is peace in this gesture, and in the sight of the dragon's closed eyes, Alain remembers the week before. And another question he had slipped around. ]

My want was for one close as blood.

[ He watches his hand move, wonders when it occurred to him to stroke the other. He has held respect for the dragon always, infuriating as he sometimes may be, and he never would have thought to do such an act. And now, and here, it comes almost natural. And from Niall's reactions, wanted. ]

You fill that, of course. As I said: I have no other.

[ His hand pauses atop the other's head. ]

No other would push wisdom upon me until I ceased mourning what was not lost.

[ It is appreciated, and it goes unsaid. There is no need to speak what is known. ]

[He remembers the want, the admittance given in simple truth. He will recall this admittance as well, likely centuries after the flesh has stripped from this favored mortal's bones.

Nii los dur do joorre. The curse of mortality. Somewhere, Nehnahlmey thinks, he must have had an inkling.

But it does not matter, for the words mean more than the insinuations.

The dragon's thrums escalate in volume and frequency.]

[ His sister had entertained a cat until their mother found it, and, scandalized, got rid of it. He doesn't know what happened to the cat, but he's reminded of it now, in the way the dragon reacts and sounds.

It's idiotic to compare a dragon, a legendary dragon at that, to a cat, but it sticks in his mind nonetheless, gaining permanence. The deep, resounding sound has the same vibrations, albeit heavier, as a cat's purr, and Niall has given himself over unchecked.

It's happiness, that sound, but Alain would never speak that.

His hands carefully begin their movements again, slower, trailing further, curiously, where no mortal alive could say to have touched. ]

...It pleases you.

[It pleases you.

The dragon halts mid-sound, insult and shame mixing freely within. To be called on such things does not settle well in a prideful creature's mind, let alone that of a Dovah. A single eye opens long enough to lock onto the man, but eventually, Nehnahlmey relents.

He closes his eye and returns to quiet thrumming.]

As long as you do not stop.

[ The cut-off was partially expected, somewhere, and Alain resigns himself to the loss, even as Niall looks at him in silence. The dragon closing his eye and returning to before is less expected, and what is said not at all.

A hand slips with a lack of grace over flesh, the singular tell of reaction. ]

...Touching you or telling you that you hold meaning with me?

[The tell is more annoying than the question. A tail swishes unhappily in the air, despite the sounds the dragon is making.]

Yes. That. The other. Continue.

[ ...It is so like and unlike Niall that Alain is silent for a moment, singular in nature, before the Dragonborn bursts out laughing, not an unkindly sound. There's genuine pleasure in the sound, and the man runs fingertips along the center of the dragon's skull, even as--

Even as, in the air, a roar rings out like challenge.

The frost dragon drops from the air into viewing range, and hovers there, out of shouting distance--for war, yet not for dialogue. It calls out, but not to the Dragonborn, who has instantly moved his hands from the dragon to his weapons instead. ]

Hin paak, Nehnahlmey. Hin kah los? Nid daal nol daar bein.

[ Your shame, Nehnahlmey, the dragon spoke. Where is your pride? There is no return from this foulness.

It hovers there a moment more, then stretches its neck, moving as if to leave. ]

Alduin fent mindok se daar.

[ Alduin shall know of this. ]

[Laughter wounds and delights the dragon, who deals with his conflict in silence. Who desires the noise more than he would ever say.

Only, another has taken to speak in his stead, another who would breathe insults and threats while remaining woefully irritating. Nehnahlmey remembers this dragon, this tired concept of predictability. He stretches his neck toward the other in the sky, veiled displeasure written in his expression.

Sarcasm drenched in his tones.]

Ol zu dhaaman, Mindok Gein, mey lost niid paak.

[As I remember, Knowledable One, fools have no shame. No pride. The observation, therefore, is obsolete. Nehnahlmey rises, form stretching in preparation for flight, senses fixed on the Dragonborn and the dragon in equal measures.]

Bo wah Alduin med nivahriin joor kiir. Zu fen vaaz hio nol lok.

[Fly to Alduin like a cowardly mortal child. Like a crying babe. I will tear you from the sky.]

[ There is something to consider, in this situation. Something unknown, despite the circumstance.

For it is true: Alain has slain many dragons at this point, some who mocked beforehand, so what is the difference now?

For it is true: Alain has fought other dragons while Niall looks on, and at times they have called on him to help, a faulty notion. The difference, then?

The difference that resides in this place and time is both easy and not to describe. For Niall is reacting nearly aggressively, an abrupt change from the normally passive and watchful dragon. The last line spoken excites a bloodlust in him, and he wonders at that change. At the cause of that reaction.

But even more, Alain considers one solitary fact. The dragon will die, yes, because Alain has never hesitated in defeating any opponent put before him, but the aspect was-- This dragon was before Niall, and while Alain would reap the benefits, the question remained as... Should he?

If he moves now, to fight the dragon before them, it would change everything and nothing. Because this would be the first time that Alain would fight... On behalf of Niall. It remains. There is no need for the Dragonborn to get involved.

Other than the fact of dragons. And the increasing want to accept all battles before him. ]

...Alduin shall know....

[ He muses aloud, a seeming non sequitur. This is coupled with his right hand unsheathing his short sword, even as his left easily goes through the motions of conjuration. Light glows fluidly, and a flame atronach appears, twirling in midair. Alain focuses on his next spell, a barrier despite the lack of need.

For throughout all of this, he has been moving forward, and the moment the barrier spell is ready, Alain is already opening his mouth, speaking outward from his core. ]

Yol-Toor-Shul!

[ Behold the Thu'um as inferno: The perfect disaster to a beast who relies on frost. ]

[There is a sustained moment, an instance when an enemy's reaction transitions between extremes. Nehnahlmey can see it in perfect clarity before Alain steps forward, before the Thu'um bursts upon the frost dragon in open flame.

What is seen could be fear. Anger. Disbelief. It could be any and all, but Nehnahlmey cares naught for its identity. He would rather cater to the demands of his own fury, slip under its comforting influence.

Thus, the dragon takes to the sky as his 'brother' crashes clumsily to the earth. Another might use this opportunity for an offensive maneuver, but Nehnahlmey remains hovering above, all eight eyes keen on the bodies below.

He prefers humiliation to destruction when enraged. And what could wound a dragon more than forcing them to choose their manner of death? To be consumed by the Dragonborn below or torn asunder by the legendary dragon above?]

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