I never thought I would deliver relief from watching human babies burn. First, I destroyed the web of hearts, burned it down with a single stab upwards. Then I swung Jillsenbane to cut a head, separate it from the spine that held it joined with the others, as if it were a garlic head. Lastly, stabbed it as soon as it fell to the floor. Repeat sixteen times.
I left the blue eyed one for last. I didn’t immediately stab his face, I simply kept staring at the hole left behind by the extraction of his eye. The same had been done to her, presumably in life, and longer ago. The same had been done to her, and, unlike the baby, she’d understand it was permanent, degrading, a violation of all which we deem humane.
Feeling bad for my girlfriend, however, was not going to deliver the baby from his or her torment. I couldn’t make up if it was a girl or a boy. I am sorry, little one. You deserved a better departure. All of you did, but I am no undertaker. I am a man with a sword and a bit of magic.
I am a man. I hail from the Americas, back on Earth. My country’s anthem says that freedom is a sacred shout, it calls us to hear the noise of broken chains. It encourages us to live crowned in glory, or to die gloriously. I may be old, I may have lived in Bengia, in this cave system to be more precise, for most of my life. This Lady took my love from me, she took my youth, she took my will to fight, and she may as well have taken from me my ability to hold food down. I barely ate today, I don’t care if I am catabolizing, healing sigils will keep me moving, like an automaton, until I free Abeline, even if it is the last thing I do.
No more being a whiny, weak bitch. No more being someone I’d hate to be. My body may be old, but my mind is still young enough to decide that, this time around, it’s do or die, die and serve.
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I need to sneak by the pile of corpses if I want to reach the sphincter. I need to save my energy, because once I break the seal, it will be a race for Abeline. The barrier itself is a zombie, and if and when it dies, Scarreladai will notice. I cannot outrun a dragon, so I need to hide in the small alcove next to the first sphincter until they go to sleep.
Right now, however, I am outside the room where the corpses to be used for food are piled, and both of them are there. Scarreladai and Gadorprims, together. They are politely sat one in front of the other, with a big, newly produced bone table —or, the nearest thing to a table they could confect— set between them. A single ray of noon falls through a hole in the roof, shining light upon them. I think they are trying to understand the concept of a date by acting one out. In have nothing else to do, so I will document it until they get distracted and I get a chance to sneak by. It’s not like the diary will serve me after I am murdered.
“Why do humans do this?” Gadorprims asks, visibly annoyed
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“To know their mate better in the menial matters.”
“How does that help with the survival rate of the whelps?”
“They don’t lay eggs. I know a bit or two about human anatomy. The woman is the egg,” says Scarreladai, as if pregnancy were some sort of alien concept.
“Like in raccoons?”
“Just like in raccoons,” she assures before taking a bit out of a thigh.
“Most disturbing.”
Gadorprims starts to eat too, never breaking eye contact with the Scarlet Lady.
“Indeed,” Sacarreladai grants, opening all of her eyes wide. “Dear, if this is to better know each other, make me a silly question.”
“I find no reason to.”
“Extra egg next batch if I like the question,” she offers, trying to flutter all of her non-draconian eyelids.
Gadorprims huffs. “You know how to convince me. Very well. But I’d like to ask you for a favor, in addition: I want to eat fish for our next date. I will even hunt enough for both, if you agree.”
“Oh, I want Carrund cods! I love them!”
A bit late, but that dispels the doubt I had initially: The Lady doth like fish too much.
“Even better,” he says and looks around a bit, as if looking for something to say based on the features of the room. This is a cave. There aren’t that many in non-decorated rooms.
“Well, ahem, you know I love to research into myths and legends. Most being true, at least in part, of course. So, Scarreladai, sweet little worm ridden liver of mine, what would be your favorite story in those categories?” he asks measuring each word, as if saying the wrong one could get him killed.
Scarreladai promptly stands and begins to pant.
“I thought you’d never ask that!” she squeals like a teenager. “It’s a work of art, a masterpiece of narrative, the pinnacle of all myths, it’s—”
“Jillsen’s ascension?” Gadorprims interrupts. She proceeds to claw his nose, leaving a couple claw marks on it and drawing blood, and they both snarl at each other for several seconds. Lady scarlet recovers her composure first.
“No, I grew tired of that one. The masterwork I refer to is the one generally titled Vegan Millipede.”
All millipedes are vegan, My Dumb Lady.
“Vegan Millipede?” Gadorprims asks.
“Without a hint of irony. The frenamic hexamer it is told in is what most highlight. But I like it for the story.”
“I don’t know that one, what is it about?”
“Old time myth, I think you weren’t born back then. It has been my inspiration in my brighter hours.”
“What’s the plot about, Scar?” he says, running out of patience.
“A necromancer and witch doctor magically welds together the digestive systems of six wyrms and puts them on a vegetarian diet.”
Finally, a background justification for the Lady being a freak, even among dragons.
“That explains… so much.” See? Gadorprims concurs. “it’s also pretty tame for your standards of work.”
“I have been practicing when alone, so, do you want to see it acted out with illusions?” she asked, and it wasn’t that much of a question but, rather, an ultimatum.
“It cannot be worse than the things you do, dear, show your little piece of hell to me.”
Scarreladai giggles and nuzzles him, licking the blood. I suppose it is a gesture of love.
She takes on the form of a man dressed like he wants to blend in with a murder, and against the far wall, ghostly figures began to appear. As soon as they turn to watch and get engrossed into it, is my chance to pass by unnoticed.