a closed cave.

[dovahfahdon]

[ A rejection of touch had never ended in such a parting. The dragon flew off, as dragons often do, and Alain expected him back within hours. When that failed to pass, he expected then days.

When that failed he grew concerned.

It had become months before he found the cave. Months edging on half of a year, and it was still nearly accidental when he came across the fissure in the mountain. Habit had him moving inward, and the presence of a dragon had him reaching for his mace.

...The sight of Niall had him dropping it.

The dragon, curled as if laying on the ground to speak to Alain, great eyes shut tight. As if sleeping. Something in Alain, something unknown and small, prompted him to cross to the dragon, even with the unknown danger of waking a sleeping dragon, to call to him, speak his name, touch his scales and pray for warmth.

When nothing came of it, he prioritized. He shut down his mind and moved in processes. He left the cave, sold his extra weapons and spent all the funds on resources and food. Returned to the cave with bulging packs and set them in the cavern. Moved to the tunnel to cast destruction spells and conjuration as well, to tear into the pathway inside with abandon.

When it came down with a crash, Niall hardly moved.

Alain settled near his bags and closed his mind to thought.

Time was outside of him.

Perhaps it had been hours.

Perhaps it had been months. ]

Comments

[dovahfahdon]

[ He watches Niall for a minute, then smiles with a vicious edge. ]

My bones would be.

[nehnahlmey]

[There is a beat, a moment passing like an eternity, and Nehnahlmey cannot rightly describe what is dying in his chest.

What emotion is rising from the depths of his being.]

You would rot.

[Turn to dust.]

You hold no faith in me.

[dovahfahdon]

[ It is quick, that burst of emotion in his chest, that heat flaring where only ice had dwelt. It is rage and pain and something altogether different that makes him step forward, makes the words scream out to the hollow hole in the earth. ]

How many times-- How many times have you told me of how long you've slept before?! Of this sleep of dragons-- Sleep that spans years and centuries both!

[ The words are spit out, thrown to the ground between them. ]

You were done with me.

[ And the words are saturated in loss. He laughs again, bitterly. ]

Rot? Look at me--

[ At the tattered ruin of a man pressed into a cave with his greatest fear-- At the skin and bones he is made of now, of the loss of weight, of muscle, of reflexes-- Of the dark thick around his eyes and the lines etching their way across his face. At the death in his eyes. ]

I've already begun to rot!

[nehnahlmey]

[This sleep of dragons... It is never meant to be a finality. Nehnahlmey slept away his rage (his pain); it is nothing so dramatic as abandonment.

Yet, here, Alain would be contrary. He would scream to the earth as if his bones have already mingled with it.

And the dragon, that creature caged outside of time, cannot stand to hear it. This talk of death.]

Diivon hin rot.

[Swallow your words, is the growl.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ Swallow your words.

--Except that's not what Niall says at all, and Alain is giggling helplessly as something becomes disjointed in the forefront of his gray matter. ]

My words?

[ He manages, chortling. ]

Yes, true: My words are rot. My rot are rotting along with everything else.

[nehnahlmey]

[He hates wordplay. Beyond this insanity, Nehnahlmey hates--

This. All of this.

The creature has already warned the man once, a kindness from a dovah lacking patience. He takes it as permission to move and sweeps a wing across with the purpose of knocking Alain off his feet. To then pin the man to the ground with the same limb, to keep him still from his laughter.]

Enough.

[dovahfahdon]

[ His words seem to have an effect, and before Alain can think (as if he was) or act, he finds himself struck quite readily to the ground. That would be enough, and he is already coughing from the force of it, but what struck him presses against him, holds him to the ground with no chance of movement and he recognizes Niall's wing now--

"Enough."

--What once had wrapped around him in companionship, in warmth, in possessive protection, and in his loneliest loneliness, he would only admit to himself how much he loved that, how much he loved sitting against the dragon beneath his wing, in warm companionable protection, and how he had thought--

There is a wretched sound in the air, a choking, miserable sound, and all Alain can think of is that Niall had been so cold when Alain found him. Niall has always been so warm, always so alive, and he had been so cold--

Alain continues to cry without realizing, continues to wonder if all of this is his mind snapping and giving him what he desires only to wrench it away, and his hands scramble upward grasping, grabbing, at the limb pinning him, holding tightly, tightly tightly, as if he lets go, all else will end.

All else would end. ]

[nehnahlmey]

[In the depths of that cavern, separated from the passage of time and yet together with an existence he wants and cannot stand in the same breath, Nehnahlmey expects a great many things. Rage, mistrust, jealousy... These are a constant, a way of persisting among the sparse moments of camaraderie and intimacy. He anticipates one or the other, an extreme and its opposite.

Not mourning.

The creature stills, body frozen in the echoes and mind unable to decipher the image and the sounds before him. Save for one indisputable fact. One little discrepancy.

Never has Nehnahlmey heard pain of loss from Alain. Never has Alain held on so tightly as to not let go.

A beat passes before the dragon murmurs in a native tongue hardly recognized.]

Zu'u het. Zu'u fen ni gruth dii lahney.

[I am here. I will not betray my life.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ There is a low intonation somewhere above his head, and even as his mind tries to tell him otherwise, his essence knows the language well. Easily knows enough to translate, to communicate, despite all of his claims otherwise. The low sound pulses within him, and somewhere, he makes out sense and sanity.

Makes a small effort to regain his breath. ]

Hin laas? Neh nahl los hin.

[ Your life? Never living is yours.

Alain breathes heavily, and tries to look at the dragon. ]

Zu'u folaas?

[ Am I wrong?

He suddenly struggles, pressing upward. ]

Tell me!

[nehnahlmey]

[Hearing the language of his blood should distract him. Take him away from this trembling wreck of a man and his seemingly inane questions.

The dragon only answers, body still despite the movements beneath him.]

Folaas, Dovahkiin.

[You are completely wrong.]

Zu'u lost siiv dii lahney ko Alain.

[I have found my life in you.]

[dovahfahdon]

[ The words are not to be taken. They are not to be kept.

This is a dragon, not a person, and yet what does Alain know of people? Only that they are not to be trusted, that they are capable of the greatest betrayals and sins, be them Man or Mer. Mayhaps a dragon would be a better choice.

But this is a dragon, outside of time. Niall would tire of him, forget about him like he had here, and Alain would be left alone. What would happen when that eventually came? When Niall eventually flew off and did not return?

But this is a dragon, cursed by his brethren to be a fool who does not know life or living. A dragon that lacks the aspects that call to that for Men, Mer, and Dov--desire, possession, and ambition. But Alain has always said differently, for Niall has shown him differently. The dragon is a curious creature, insatiable on certain subjects, and not easily put off of others. He is stubborn, strong-headed, clever, intelligent, coy, infuriating.... All things that make Alain irritated; all things that he would wish for in a companion.

A dragon, cursed by his brethren to be a fool who does not know life or living, and Alain still knows it to be true regardless. He has seen other dragons interact with Niall like something strange, irregular or diseased. Something that lacks, something that some resent for the power that he still holds. This is not a blood dragon missing pieces, but a legendary one, and it grates at them, Alain knows it; it grates that this non-dragon is superior to most in power.

A dragon who does not know life or living, who claims Alain as his own.

It should be rejected. The words are not to be taken. Not to be kept. Alain knows this, knows it well. Knows that to accept the words means he will give a part of himself away. That is nothing wanted. Not at all. He knows this. He knows it well.

But he has sat by himself for over a month now. He has sat in a cave that housed the silent body of the being that he respects most--desires most--cares for most. He has sat by himself for over a month now, and has allowed himself to slip and fall in the mental cracks, for he did not expect--

Alain did not think that this would have an ending other than death. He had set himself to death for the lack of this dragon, despite all of Alain's dreams and ambitions. Alain gave in to dying without Niall.

He stills, hands still on the wing pinning him. Fingers tracing nothing against flesh. He watches his fingers move, trace with abandon, and he starts, jolts, then stills again. ]

Then you can't--

[ He says suddenly, out of nowhere. His wide eyes blink in confusion at his speech, then he closes his eyes, goes slack.

Continues the words he had begun to say on instinct. ]

...You can't leave me. You can't ever leave me. You can't go away.