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[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?]

[ He is aware of Niall as he always is-- Alain always hyper focuses on the legendary dragon's proximity to Alain when in battle. He has no want to harm him, or even upset him-- And holds a quiet fear that he might kill him on accident if he isn't careful. Alain knows the power that Niall wields. He is named, has lived for centuries, and is one of the highest classes of dragon. Still, it remains. Niall is not a fighter, and Alain is.

It's a fear, as stated: A secret one.

Niall rises as the frost dragon falls, wreathed in flame, watching downward with the gaze of a predator. It is something yet unseen in the legendary dragon, and if Alain was something less of himself, he might pause to fathom. As things are--

The flame atronach holds for no commands and flings itself forward, shooting flame from its wrist. The barrier spell completes itself and Alain quickly moves to cast again, his flesh taking on the consistency of iron itself. He moves forward and the dragon flings up its head, great wings striking the atronach away. It looks up at Niall warily, then flows a stream of words at Alain. ]

Dovahkiin, daar los ni hin frod!

[ Not his battle, possibly, but there is nothing stopping him from continuing. He is nearly to the dragon and it roars out slightly. ]

Drem! Peace. I have no krif-- No quarrel with you. Only the bein mey.

[ ...The foul fool the frost dragon is currently cringing from. Perhaps tearing from the sky has a deeper meaning with dragons. Alain does not know, or currently care. He continues, and the dragon seems to understand there is no talking.

What a loss of pride to speak instead of shout. Perhaps to rectify, the dragon breathes in, to exhale ice and snow, and Alain projects again. ]

Fos-Ro-Dah!

[ Unrelenting force to barrel into the breath of frost and smash it to pieces. The dragon reaches to snap at the man, and his sword comes up, newly enchanted, pressing flame and lightning into white hide. Alain recasts in the same moment, conjuring again the flame atronach. It sets itself to burning scales and skin, and Alain strikes again.

The dragon, bloodied and burnt, heaves itself into the air in a maddened struggle of wings, forgetting its other adversary in the process. ]

[It is a curious sight to behold: for a dragon to seemingly beseech their mortal enemy. Laughter comes easily, Nehnahlmey finds, in light of hatred, cold and crisp in the evening air.]

Ruz bo wah fin bein mey!

[Fly to the foul fool if he seeks peace.

Only the Dragonborn does not relent, and the frost dragon is caught in the fray, caught in force and fire. He breaks free somehow, struggling away from the man's reach through flight--

And Nehnahlmey dives, claws outstretched. He uses gravity and speed to do exactly as threatened: to tear into the other creature's form.]

Edited 2013-07-15 18:11 (UTC)

[ 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. ]

...He is my Grah-Zeymahzin.

[ My ally. My brother. ]

[Two dragons fall to the earth, the crash brutal and unforgiving, and it would be Nehnahlmey who rises. It would be the useless, foolish dragon who recovers without a hint of hurt, eyes blazing in uncharacteristic aggression at the one whose life is slipping away. At the dragon who made a mockery of something held precious and dear.

He would ask now. He would question why Nehnahlmey refuses his own, and Nehnahlmey snaps his jaws together in frustration. Does his zeymah not understand? That centuries of rejection do not fall away at similarities in blood?

They do not fall away when another would give him what his kin would not.

Except Alain would answer for him. The man would speak in the dragon's tongue, denying blood bonds and forging others. He is my Grah-Zeymahzin.

Nehnahlmey finds himself frozen, fixed as destruction unfolds before his eyes. As the frost dragon dies in sword and flame. It is not until the Dragonborn forces distance between himself and the dead that Nehnahlmey chances words.]

You will not eat him?

Edited 2013-07-16 04:06 (UTC)

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