the silver dragon: 1/3; small talk - 903 words

Nathaniel could feel the metal bars of the bench under him - which was odd. They were cold. He wasn't supposed to be bothered by cold. Maybe it had something to with that feeling bad thing, or whatever Caspian had called it.

 

Chills shot up his spine, thrashing the dragon's body even worse than they had before. Nathaniel rubbed his arms, but it barely helped. It was a freezing breeze that blew from the inside, from between his ribs. He couldn't close it off with anything from the outside.

 

Caspian had that effect on him - or his name, specifically. Nathaniel hadn't seen the eternal's face in... a long time. The dragon squeezed himself in his own, sorry embrace, but his shivering body did nothing to listen. How could he fuck up so badly? What was he thinking?

 

But Nathaniel knew it was for the best - for him, and for Caspian, both. How many times had the shapeshifter threatened his life? Cut him open just to prove a point? Caspian had told him that he was as stuck in his form as a mammoth was in a tar pit - whatever that meant.

But what explained any of it, then? The undertones of the eternal's voice changed, all the pent-up rage echoing through like a lighthouse in the midst of a storm.

 

And that wasn't Caspian's voice. Nathaniel knew him well enough to discern between the two. The Athos flipped like a coin, and took it all out on the person next to him - which, for the silver dragon's misfortune, often was Nathaniel. He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, but they persisted. How much gold did he have to spend to hide the things Caspian did to him?

 

The thing was, that wasn't Caspian. Nathaniel had no idea who or what it was - but it was not his Goddess. The dragon wasn't afraid of dying in his arms, but that thing?

 

He was terrified of it. He didn't know which was worse: that the thing existed in the first place, or the speed it switched to and from. It was always gone as fast as it had appeared, and it left its puppet behind, scared and confused. They way it twisted Caspian into being almost afraid of his own body was sickening - and heart-wrenching.

 

"Such a nice day today, is it not?"

An unfamiliar voice pulled Nathaniel half-way out of his darkened bubble. He mumbled something under his breath with a groan, and turned away from the person that had sat down next to him. He could hear them scoff.

"Ah, yes, dragons never were ones for small talk."

The strange choice of words made Nathaniel's figure tense up. It was clear from the sneer he head that the other was pleased with the reaction.

"Or should I call you by name, Nathaniel?"

 

The silver dragon had no time to get up, as a large being sat on the other side of him. It squeezed him uncomfortably between itself and this...

 

Nathaniel finally turned to the person that had questioned him. It was a man, lean and tall, just like he was. His features were sharp and sunken in, an unwelcoming stare looking back at the pale dragon. That sharp gaze was like a roaring flame, its smoky trail stinging Nathaniel's eyes with something undescribable. The man smiled wickedly as he noticed the other's distress.

"I would like to have a chat," he revealed while he swiftly stood up, and turned back to face Nathaniel, "let us walk."

"And what if I do not want to?" Nathaniel was unable to get up the bench, as the large creature beside him grabbed his arm, and pulled him back down. He only took a quick glance to gain at least some information. All he got was "huge" and "inky black". The man in front of him was far more threatening, as that said man leaned in right at Nathaniel's face.

"I will leave you with scars no potion can heal." With a toothless grin, he straightened himself. The silver dragon could feel his heart rising into his throat, its beat howling in his ears. Whatever this was, there was no way of wriggling out of it. The dark creature's iron grip was relentless around his upper arm, and another approached behind the strange man. Nathaniel's eyes narrowed, as he inspected it.

 

An odd, bipedal being, that seemed to be very top-heavy. Its walk was strangely effortless, considering the size of its head and upper torso. Its hide was pitch black, and it reflected its surroundings as if it was wet. Nathaniel was unable to get anything out of its small eyes, solid white, deep in its skull. As if there was nothing behind them. The whole creature felt unreal. Artificial, even.

 

There were no words to get him out of this one. His tongue would only dig him a deeper grave. The thought of it tightened its grip around Nathaniel's heart. When the second beast reached the dragon, he involuntarily let out a muffled whimper as it grabbed his other arm. It was as if they had no perception of force, and how much should be used on different things. The man chuckled at his misery, while the brutes carried the dragon past him like a lousy rag doll.

"We have much to discuss," he singsonged, as he trailed his goons like a shadow.

 

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