deercountry | [semi-open] If you're trying hard to breathe in the dark

Entry tags:

[semi-open] If you're trying hard to breathe in the dark

Who: Allen & others, possibly Argonaut appearances
What: Event-log and other April-related prompts. Plotting prompt stuff!
When: Throughout April
Where: Various

Content Warnings: SAD THINGS, harm and death to NPC children, mutilation, nightmare fuel mindfuckery, high corruption and beasthood.

⛧ 1. if your screams don't make a sound (wonderkind/AKUMA) ★

[ You were probably just minded your own business doing something totally normal — and then you got caught in up in Allen Walker's vortex of bad luck. Sorry. It's just a thing that happens. He doesn't even have his unlucky rabbit's foot on him! He learned better really quickly...!!

Regardless of whether you might have been haggling with a bakery over the price of day-olds, sipping tea in some little shop, or maybe this is your house that he's... about to put a hole through. So sorry — but all of a sudden part of the nearby brickwork explodes as a slender figure is bodily slammed entirely through it.

Yeah. It's that kind of day.

It does not look comfortable. And it does not look like something anyone could have gotten away with without some broken ribs, but as the dust settles the boy that was indeed used as a wrecking ball of sorts starts coughing and trying to sit up. This is just -- ugghhh...

Coming to his senses quickly though, dressed in a black and red jacket underneath what seems to be a impossibly volumous feathered white cloak that seems to be made of moonlight itself he -- blinks. And then whirls around, realizing you're there.

His left eye has bled black throughout the sclera, and the iris has shifted to glowing red rings that shift in and out like a camera lens focusing. There's a dark, corrupted sort of smoke that seems to be pooling around it as well. His expression is wide with alarm, actual fear for a moment at seeing you there, before he stumbles back up to his feet. To square his shoulders, face the hole he just was thrown through—

And rip back, shouting at you over his shoulder as he spreads a single arm out in warning. ]

RUN!

[ Because, over the edge of the rubble... there's a faint sort of here-but-not dark glow. And the world seems to desaturate, fading from color into the black and white. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like you're even looking through your own eyes.

And then you hear a faint sobbing. Distant, but far too close as well. Like it's there in your own skull. Faintly.

And a figure floats into view, cresting the stone. At first, it looks like... an extremely mummified corpse. Bone dry, curled up in a fetal position. It isn't even the thing crawling up and through the hole, but that seems deem and distant right now. It's attached to it.

Because the sobbing stops as soon as you look at it, and the specter stiffens suddenly. Socketless pits for eyes turning right towards you as it realizes you see it —

—and its jaw falls open as it screams. ]

⛧ 2. if your heart just cries too loud all the time (butterflies/beasthood) ★

[ He knew this worked like a game of Russian roulette, he really did. And he doesn't even want to have to destroy any of the butterflies that have flocked to the Trench. It's fine when they stay up and away from people, but when they choose to land near populated areas...

It's not even for misjudging his own ability to purge corruption from his own body! It has limits, he knows that... too much can still be too much if it's all at once. But he has to keep trying. Better him than someone else. Or at least, thinking about that...

...it's easy to forget the actual consequences.

Maybe you were there when he destroyed the butterfly, a boy who suddenly transformed into into a white harbinger wreathed in what looks like condensed moonlight taking the shape of a huge feathered cloak and wielding a great broadsword as long and broad as he is. Maybe you just see the consequences of that — or hear the sudden howling gale.

A whirling gale of feathers, light, and tattered wings made from moonlight themselves that rips upwards from a doubled over figure. A white and gold gigantic masquerade mask floats above as well, twisting to and fro from the feathered cloak like it's unsure how to hold its shape, like it's too angry to remember its shape and cares not for what it was, but is trying to contort itself into something new. But the winged sort of cloak looks almost angelic, glowing white-gold and ethereal. It's beautiful, and somewhat terrible as well. Especially as the figure, with his hands clutching his head like it wants to split in two, would not seem to have a normal left hand but a great white and gold monstrous sort of claw instead. But it too can't seem to hold its form, splitting into glowing feathers along his arm that twist in the air.

It's like a howling monster clinging to the figure even as it also tries to rip away.

And if you're caught staring, an edge of that tattered, feathery wing-cloak rips out towards you and slashes into—and through the brickwork by your head. And that's when you might realize that even though it looks like a cloak and feathers, it cuts as sharply as any sword. ]

Stay— [ It's a boy beneath all that. A teenager, pale and ethereal himself as the feathers around him, with a dark red scar cutting through the left side of his face. And he pants and rasps it out, gritting his teeth audibly and fixing a surprisingly sharp and hard dark eye on you. A window of raw clarity in a maelstrom.

Anguished clarity, his face twisted in tragedy.

But that eye is blood red and black, and the scar surrounding it twists itself restlessly across his face like an angry, living thing. Black smoke bleeds from that left side of his face, mixing in with the white. ]

—back...

More closed prompts below! I'm trying to do more closed/planned things since I have a lot going on this month and a bunch that are sequential, but please feel free to hit me up on my plotting prompt and I'm happy to plan something and do a private prompt for us! He will be generally collecting the hope orbs, mostly for Viktor, getting fucked up with his restored memories/tether and hiding from people later in the month, and trying to purify and reverse the corruption/beasthood of any turned, especially as a result of the butterflies. So, especially if you want to get your character in on realizing even full beasthood can be reversed by exorcists and other sorts of purification abilities and you want them to be able to see the human souls still in them... 👉👈 hit me up.

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[and everywhere the dragons danced, the people died. sansa had not been taught to fear dragons, but she had been told how dangerous they could be. lady barks frantically, darting back and forth. sansa begins to run, too.]

Everybody back! We need to clear the buildings! Winter--

[her white raven omen swoops in from nowhere. she addresses it.]

Tell everyone to leave their houses. By the back way, if they're able. Go!

[she pulls her hound knight with her, chasing the small crowd away from the dragon, and waving forward the people they pass.]

Everyone, with me! It will be all right, if only we get far enough away. Are there any coldblood mages? Anyone who can handle fire? With me! Ser Allen is very skilled in cleansing corruption. He can save this dragon. It won't hurt you. Coldblood mages, watch for fire. You're safe with me! At least two more blocks. With me, everyone!

[her padded gown and leather armor are quite warm, but easy to run in. her satchel is harder to manage, sliding down her arm each time she lets it go to wave more people forward, but it's not as heavy as it could be. at least she has her boots on.]

Edited 2022-04-12 03:30 (UTC)

[ "He can save the dragon."

It's actually enough that he casts a startled glance over his shoulder in Sansa's direction. Not that he's shocked at the idea, but that he's shocked to hear his own thoughts reflected in such a manner. Looking at it, the reality of the dragon is utterly ten times more terrifying and ferocious in appearance than any fantasy he could have imagined. Blood dripping from its wounds, a corrupted madness in its eyes and breathing out a snarl that hits him as incredibly hot breath even as far away as he is.

...but it's beautiful, too. That's not a monster. Not something to be destroyed.

Its eyes were different before. The wild-eyed fear as it came through the portal. ]

It's sad... having an appearance like that. [ It's calmer now; soft-spoken, really, now that Sansa has begun leading the people back a much safer feeling distance. ]

Somehow I think -- [ He reaches with his right hand for the wrist of his left, grasping the golden crown that circles it there. ]

That maybe you might be more afraid than I am. [ And he is, even speaking so quietly.

He pulls on his wrist, drawing out a luminous great broadsword in a burst of transformative light, white as moonlight and emblazoned with a gold cross. As long as he is tall and almost as broad, and he takes off running diagonal to the dragon. Strafing.

It lunges forward and snaps at him, jaws gnashing shut in the air behind him as a thin tendril, glowing in the same manner as his cloak, whips out and binds itself around one of the horns curling back from the crest of its head. And he yanks on it from where it's connected to he cuff of his wrist to catapult himself through the air like an acrobat, landing lightly with his boots on its neck as it bellows and begins twisting to try and reach him. A wing snapping out and smashing against another building on the other side of the street, tail lashing angrily and scattering carts and street lamps.

Like trying to ride a giant, angry bull. ]

Edited 2022-04-12 05:47 (UTC)

[at the other end of the street sansa turns, one gauntleted arm raised as if it could ward off dragonfire. and she lets out a small huff of laughter in disbelief.]

He's riding it.

[there was the white hair, of course, but he seemed entirely too surprised by the idea of dragons to have valyrian blood. and she's certain even aegon the conquerer couldn't ride a corrupted dragon. perhaps a dragon rider could save their own dragon from corruption? it doesn't matter. it's breathtaking to watch. she feels like the falcon king's mother, making peace with visenya. probably the last stark to see anyone ride a dragon was old man cregan himself.]

Ser Allen the Bold! Ser Allen the Dragonknight!

[lady lets out a series of cheerful yips, and a murmur goes through the crowd. she remembers how most of the dragons ended up dying in the dance, and she realizes she had better really sell this.]

He's taming the dragon with fire and blood! Allen and Dragonstone! Allen the Dragonknight!

[a few hesitant cheers of 'allen the dragonknight' and 'fire and blood' issue from the crowd. it seems she's accidentally conquered this street for house targaryen. she hopes that if her father is watching he understands.]

[ Would be that he could hear any of that, because he would blush so mightily.

But he is unfortunately quite distracted. It's a lot like the old adage of having a tiger by the tail, as he is technically too close to it for it to be able to hurt him, perched at the back of its head behind those horns and held to it by the undefeatable strength of those glowing ribbons, but it is also casting about so wildly that all he can do is hold on. There's no room or time to swing his sword.

The dragon has other plans at realizing it can't shake him off, nor can it reach him with its teeth, and so with an irritated bellow it takes flight again -- Allen along for the ride. Whitish-grey dragon and whiter boy. Peeling through the air overhead Sansa and the crowd in a great rush that sends a wind like a hurricane through the narrow street corridor, it twists and rises higher.

In a strangely nimble aerial bank, it finds a place with room it prefers finally as it alights heavily on the curved spire of the Watch Tower. Great, taloned feet digging into the stone that has cracks running through it, it whips its head back and around then with full force. And Allen --

-- loses his grip. His bindings slip off the horns as the dragon tosses his head, and he's sent flying with a startled look on his face. His cloak flung wide by the wind like wings, in a way that almost has him resembling one of the migrating butterflies, so large and voluminous is it compared to his body. High above the ground.

But impact isn't even remotely a concern. Because now that its adversary has been thrown clear, the dragon turns about and, breathing deep in a moment of utterly intelligent calculation... breathes.

A narrow line of fire in the night, whiter than white flame that's limned in a corrupted blackish red at its edges.

And seeming to consume the cloaked boy entirely. ]

Edited 2022-04-12 06:44 (UTC)

[sansa leads the crowd in a cheer as allen soars overhead. nobody has seen this since rhaena flew morning. she wonders if the crowd knew what they are seeing. she follows the grey shape towards the watchtower, heart pounding with something other than rage or fear.

and then he falls.]

Allen!

[and her eyes go white.

and she is flying, far above the girl half collapsed against her hound, and then she sees the fire, and the noise that tears from her throat, is raw, inhuman, and though some part of her is screaming to go back, her raven brain is determined to pull the dragon's tail and turn its fire back on itself, find the one thing that will send it crashing to the ground, so she can feast on the corpse and know that she lives and it does not--]

Edited 2022-04-12 07:04 (UTC)

[ Eyes sharp, the size of a raven or not, the harrying bird does get the dragon's attention as it buzzes it. It's far too intelligent to burn itself in such a manner however, though it does snap its jaws shut and cease its breath, instead whirling around to the bird clawing and pecking at its tail.

Mouth opening again, its breath rumbles again as it considers the bird.

But then a luminous ribbon whips out, binding itself once again around one of its horn.

Smoldering and with smoke rising off him, there isn't so much Allen as a figure cloaked entirely head to toe in white. Wrapped in tattered wings that flare back and cloaklike once again, the white is stained with soot and tattered at the edges. The winged white and gold mask that had previously been nestled among the cowl at his neck has snapped up to partially cover his face -- and he breathes out then.

Shakily.

With those now multiple ribbons affixed to the horns of its head, he pulls on them and swings wide and upward. Like a trapeze artist whipping through a rising arch to meet his partner's arms, it almost looks for a moment like he's flying himself as he reaches the top of his arch high above the dragon and the ribbons go briefly slack.

This time he lands solidly between the dragon's shoulders, two more ribbons snapping out in quick succession to bind to the base of each wing and pull him in. Feet planted wide and solid. Left arm returned as its previous claw, he raises it up high as the dragon realizes he lives, too distracted by the raven, and whips its head around. Only a moment. Only one chance.

Smoke is curling around his thighs, the fabric intact from its blood enchantments that fireproof it if looking singed despite that -- but they're shaking. Trembling and bound several times around by the same ribbons he's used to tether himself to the dragon.

He only has one more go of this.

Twisting his hand about and drawing the sword once again, he swings it downward with an unrelenting force. Piercing straight down between its wings and directly into its core. Deep, at least a foot of its length at first, and then he grits his teeth tight and bears down as the dragon bellows and bucks back, throwing its wings wide. Down to the hilt.

Even if strangely, no blood comes forth. None at all. ]

Edited 2022-04-12 07:56 (UTC)

[a small sound escapes the little raven--it sounds suspiciously like a breathy 'oh!' it's good that she has little in the way of a mouth to give away her surprise, because she understands, almost immediately, what the trick is--distract the dragon, keep his eyes on her. so she darts around his eyes, back and forth between them. her rage subsided, she recognizes that this creature is important, and she ought not peck its eyes out, but she darts toward them beak first, and then away, to keep it guessing.]

[ A raven...?! He's startled to realize the bird that's flying around, moreover to realize it's not trying to fly away, but seems almost to be attacking the dragon and defending against it. Even hanging on for dear life, sword hilt deep in the back of a dragon, he has to marvel almost comically at it for a moment. That's one bold little raven.

-- but he does have more pressing concerns. Gritting his teeth with an irritated click of his tongue and wishing he had two hands in situations like this, he presses down -- wills his sword to reach it. Its heart. Not the physical one, but the corrupted one. His moral strength versus its.

A weapon like his isn't one that's crafted and meant simply to cut, after all. An Innocence like his -- it takes the shape of its user's heart. Draws its strength entirely from their heart and gives it form; gives it power and magnifies their desires. His?

A sword that doesn't cut flesh, only evil. Only corruption. So --

-- please be saved.

The dragon seems to reach a tipping point. Where its movements begin to slow, and it no longer tries to snap at the raven that keeps coming perilously close to its eyes nor buck the boy on its back off. It starts to list sideways instead, its eyes fogging over even as the madness clears from it. The thickened black corrupted scales that had grown over its own pale ones begin to recede, leaving it once again its normal color. And on its back, Allen begins to straighten a little, looking up and his expression smoothing as he realizes... the anger has seeped out of it?

But its grip gives way then as well. And, like a deadweight, the now unconscious dragon with its full one ton body mass slips off the Watch Tower and begins to plummet to earth. ]

Edited 2022-04-12 13:19 (UTC)

[the raven screeches again when the dragon begins to fall, circling around to scrabble at the dragon with its talons and beak, and then again at the boy, hooking her talons into his shoulder and hauling upwards.]

[ Allen Walker doesn't always make smart choices.

Namely right now as he's realizing he is in a bad spot but torn about what to do about it. Should he just jump off? Should he try to anchor both him and the dragon to the tower? Except no, his body would be torn limb from limb in the process... But he can't just leave--

When the raven cries out and digs her talons into the luminous soft downy feathers of his cowl, one so wide it falls back over his shoulders like a small sort of capelet, he's startled out of his dilemma and looks up at it. That raven--? Was it... trying to save him? But he weighs too much --

Impact is imminent and there are no more options, so his expression twists in torn concern up at it, right before he throws himself down and flat against the back of the dragon, tucked between its wings and hugging himself to the creature. His sword shifting back into the shape of his arm and claw as he does so --

-- and his hood snapping up then, like a living thing moving to protect him and her. Scooping up the raven in a protective, if incredibly soft and pillow-like sort of armor the cloak makes and pressed against the side of his face. It's something that feels strangely gentle to the touch. Peaceful, like the luminous sort of feathers and material could touch straight though to the soul and soothe it.

There is a dull thoom as the dragon lands heavily on its side, shaking the both of them and the ground itself in a small earthquake-- even back to where Sansa's body is and the crowd around her. (One little girl -- she's stayed and is shaking her seemingly unconscious body and trying to get a response out of her, afraid she was hurt. "Miss? ...Miss?) But it is ground, not cobblestone or pavement, and the soft grass and dirt gives underneath it, ploughed up under the weight.

And on top, staggering upright slowly -- a somewhat dizzy-looking boy clad in white who slowly starts to pull his mask down and looks around finally. ]

Edited 2022-04-12 17:35 (UTC)

[the impact startles sansa back into her body, and allen is left with a frightened raven in his cloak. she opens her eyes to a small, scared, girl, and her omen, who has grown to the size of a pony to make a point.]

Thank you, you're very kind, I'm perfectly well--[she picks herself back up and brushes a little dust from her dress.] Don't look so smug, Winter, I can feel you laughing at me.

["I just wanted to know what you were planning to do, exactly," winter says.]

You know you'll have to be bigger than that if you want to carry either of us.

[he grows, then, to the size of a black bear. the little girl backs away wide-eyed.]

Take me to him, then. I would have felt it if he died.

[winter springs into the air and scoops up sansa with his massive talons. she's too tired to think very much about falling, or the moon door. he carries her towards allen, and sets her gently on the ground beside the dragon.]

Edited 2022-04-12 18:58 (UTC)

[ WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS BIRD (he quickly lets it out but gets a few panicked scratches in the process)

Allen has just slid down and has turned back to the dragon when Sansa arrives. He's patting it lightly along the neck, looking intent and a bit concerned as he takes in the deep gouges. The blood is only oozing from it by this point, but the wounds it had taken during its fight with the previous dragon were certainly part of why it was already weakened.

It leaves his cloak looking a little wild and tattered as well. Not just from the fight which has it looking kind of... smoldered... and sooty, but it's shifting like a restless living thing. The corruption is incredibly high in this area right now, after all. And Timcanpy has slipped out by now as well, hovering and watching the dragon in some apparent worry. ]

Lady-- Alayne! [ There's a slight pause, but he did catch himself despite his brain still trying to catch up after... dragon... but there might be people around. He looks startled to see her, especially being borne aloft by such a huge white raven of an omen. ]

Are you alright...? [ He looks... questionable, but alive. He's let his mask and cowl down so the lower half of his face looks cherry red and uncomfortably burnt -- badly so at the edges of his face -- but he smiles at seeing her, looking relieved.

Next to him though, there is a rumble. A shuddered sort of deep exhalation, as the dragon begins to stir. Rolling itself to one side to upright itself on the knuckle of its wing, it gives its head a slight shake before turning -- and fixing its gaze directly on the two teenagers. Eyes as big as either of their hands, and a clear, extremely intelligent pale grey that dilate and then narrow as there's a quiet rumble deep in its chest. ]

Edited 2022-04-13 13:59 (UTC)

[the raven quickly flies away to seek shelter with sansa. she pets it absently. winter shrinks back to his normal size.

"I can mind the hound," he says, and flies off.]

I'm well. Were you hurt at all, or burned?

[she walks around the dragon from a careful distance, making sure she's out of the line of fire and trying to get a look at its wounds. the little raven hides in her arms.]

We'll have to clean his wounds. I don't imagine he will enjoy that.

[she hopes it hasn't lost too much blood. she's not sure the blood ministers have the right kind of blood to replace it. at least it has the strength to stand up, but that means they have to worry about dragonfire. she tries to think of people she could call to help, and realizes she has no idea what time it is.]

[ He's about to answer her when the dragon shifts, becoming aware again, and specifically turning its attention on them. A glance to Sansa, but then turning its full attention to the exorcist as it breathes out a low rumble and stares deep.

(Aaa, hot. Even its regular breath at this distance is hot, but...)

Not dangerously so, or even that uncomfortably. And he hesitates for a moment, an odd sort of expression on his face before he steps closer to its head. Almost twice his size in length for its head alone, its scale versus him means it could easily snap him in a single bite. It snorts for a moment, watching him, and lips curling back from its teeth in a rippled utterance. And yet...

Carefully, he places his right hand along the side of its muzzle. Letting his fingers spread out wide and still being dwarfed in size, but it merely snorts in response. Tousling his hair with the sudden gust, but otherwise watching him with calm eyes that slowly blink through the aid of a membranous third eyelid. ]

I think he'll let us though. [ It's just a knowing. But his tone is quietly awestruck.

For him, after all, there was no such tale of dragons being gentle or understanding of humans -- let alone any reality. ]

[sansa laughs, softly, in disbelief, small raven held close.]

You are a dragonknight. The first in a hundred years.

[technically aemon the dragonknight hadn't had a dragon, and he had lived a little more than a hundred years ago. still.]

I think he must be the Grey Ghost.

[and allen saved him from his horrible fate. how wonderful.]

Edited 2022-04-13 23:03 (UTC)

[ Wow just look at how quick he can both look a little panicked and blush. ]

Eh?? 'Dragonknight'?? [ But... but he just exorcised it!! That can't be the same thing!!

He's a bit mollified that she seems to know this specific dragon though, and glances back at its pale eyes with a conflicted, but curious expression. Soul piercing. They're soul piercing sorts of eyes, but somehow he still gets the sense it's calm and at ease now despite its pain.

He gives its muzzle another pat. _{"Dragonknight"........} ]

You mean you recognize him? 'The Grey Ghost'?

[sansa shakes her head briefly.]

I recognized the other one. Sunfyre, the mad dragon. He...[she lowers her voice for this next word, as if the dragon might hear it and be upset] ate the Grey Ghost, before he ate Queen Rhaenyra. I had nightmares when we learned about that. Of course, I was much younger.

[maybe 11. she carefully approaches the dragon, trying not to make any sudden movements.]

The Grey Ghost was what they called him on Dragonstone, because he never stayed in one place long enough for anyone to get a look at him. It's not a proper name.

[but she smiles, somewhat helplessly, at allen.]

Still, I should tell you, my brother's wolves were called Grey Wind and Ghost.

[sansa doesn't believe in destiny anymore, only duty and birthright and luck. still she can't help but wonder at the serendipity of it all.]

Edited 2022-04-14 00:14 (UTC)

[ When she drops her voice, he leans in like one might in order to hear something scandalous, his eyes going wide and giving her a definitely scandalized look. That's just wrong! Who or what even eats a dragon!!

Except, apparently... another dragon. That's awful. What a fate.

Turning back to him, the Grey Ghost, his expression knits in sympathy. Running his hand along the ridge of its scales as it turns an eye to watch Sansa, breathing out a rumbled breath that has its nostrils flare and contract. It's not friendly, but it isn't unfriendly either. Highly cautious and measuring her movements; her intent. But mollified. ]

They were? [ He shoots her a clearly startled look at that. What are the chances, her brother's wolves bearing such similar names? _{And he was just thinking, if it didn't have a proper name then "Ghost" seems to fit...} ]

I'll have to think about it. [ Moreover, he's not sure he has the right to name such a creature. ]

I think... I'd like to try and figure out what he thinks it is.

Edited 2022-04-14 05:58 (UTC)

[sansa nods with a sad smile.]

Ghost still is.

[and then she pauses, hesitates. she's still holding the raven, and pets her absently.]

When I was born, the dragons had been gone for nearly a hundred and fifty years. But--other creatures, very clever ones, don't give themselves names, as such. They don't--have to tell anybody who they are. Names are how people think of the world. Even animals that know their names--they just know that's what people call them. It isn't theirs.

[she's never really had to put these things into words before, and she would have been afraid to try until very recently. she hopes it makes sense, and that she hasn't crushed allen's hope of learning his dragon's name.]

He should be able to learn his name, though. That is, what you want to call him. They were said to be clever, cleverer than horses.

[which doesn't make training easier, exactly.]

[ "Still is"? ... oh. He gets it a second later, expression dropping a notch and giving a small nod. ]

Mm... [ It's a thoughtful hum, looking up into the dragon's eye again as he mulls that over. Maybe it's a tiny bit depressing, but... not really. It isn't really exactly what he meant. He just... that seems like something too important to make arbitrarily on his own?

They need to get to know each other first. See what suits it; what kind of creature it is, what it likes and doesn't. Maybe that's more what he means. Because it can't be just another animal, even a very clever one. He refuses. He didn't even see Timcanpy -- the original Timcanpy -- as a golem or some artificial creation, much like how he barely sees him now as his omen. He's just... Timcanpy. His best friend.

And this dragon is its own person he wants to meet. That's how he sees it. ]

I'm sure he is. [ It's a gentle, neutral response. He'll still have to think on it, but in the meantime--

He glances back to Sansa, head tipped back as he considers the more immediate problem. ]

How do you think we should try to clean its wounds? [ Thankfully the bleeding has mostly stopped, though there's been enough spilled the corruption here is high, but they're so... big. Not in scale to the rest of the dragon, but to them and how to approach tending them they certainly are. ]

Edited 2022-04-14 06:55 (UTC)

[she smiles softly at allen, then tilts her head up to examine the dragon's wounds.]

Well, you could get on his back and pour any sort of alcohol on them. It shouldn't be harder than staying on his back when he was corrupted. Keeping them clean would be harder, though. [dressing a wound on a dragon cross with the sting of having them cleaned out with stinging antiseptics...and changing that dressing...] We'd do well to find a healer mage, or a even just a blood minister.

[she pauses, hesitant.]

I do know a healer among the sleepers, but I'm afraid he doesn't like me very much.

[and...people that don't respond well to her charms often turn out to be quite dangerous. to her, at least.]

But I think Lord Sasuke might be married to another one...I could ask him to send her.

[she doesn't know if it's a reasonable hour to fetch sasuke out of bed, but who knew what kind of germs had been on sunfyre's horrible talons?]

[ That's a good idea with the alcohol. He should really see about maybe starting to carry some first aid supplies around with him like Todoroki does; this is exactly the time he wishes he had some. Even if a portable amount probably wouldn't go far in this case. ]

I can do that. [ He's watching those eyes for a read, taking in the measured blink of the nictitating membrane. ] I think he'll let me.

[ Without having to resort to cheating with his cloak this time, that is. ]

And I wouldn't want you to have to call on someone you're not comfortable with. [ He's not sure he wants someone testy being around a creature like this in a state like that anyway. Calm energy without people feeling tense around each other is a much better idea... something tells him that even though it seems calm now and understands they're trying to help it, someone could get really hurt very easily. ]

I don't know either of them, but... do you think she'd be willing? [ He hates bothering people, but this isn't for him. ]

At the very least in the meantime we should move him out of here. The corruption isn't good if it's wounded.

[a small wry smile.]

I'm sure he'll let you the first time. [a pause.] Lord Sasuke is my sworn sword, and Lady Sakura...seems kind. She is a powerful healer, and I don't believe she would have become one if she didn't want very much to heal those in need. And she sounded quite comfortable with Sasuke's giant hawk and snakes.

[not a euphemism. but sansa has an idea, when he suggests moving the dragon.]

A quick dip in salt water would cleanse all his wounds at once. But--I'm not sure that the ocean would be safe for a wounded creature.

[sansa knows zero facts about the ocean, or what sharks are like, but she knows there are beasts there, who might think a wounded dragon an easy meal.]

There is a bright salt lake in the Trenchwood. It's said to have healing properties under the full moon. The traders and hunters were talking about it, when I went to Feed. It should be easy to spot on dragonback.

[ Oh!! ]

It's been a full moon all month! [ Could that actually be luck? No, he doesn't believe in that sort of thing. ]

That might be the best. I don't know how well he might react to more people after all that anyway. [ And who knows if regular healing magic would work on something like a dragon? But moreover, while it seems alright with him and Sansa... he's a bit hesitant how it'll react to more strangers. ]

What do you think? [ Is he talking to Sansa? No. He's moved around and has cradled the tip of its beaklike, bonily ridged snout between both his hands while looking up at it -- and pats it, careful to use the palm of his bladed, faintly luminescent hand that's not that unlike its own clawed feet. Exactly like with a dog. A very, very big dog. ] Would sitting in a lake be better?

[ Utterly fearless teen? Utterly fearless teen.

-- Also his best friend has always been a toothy flying thing anyway. It's like a boy and his new best deadly friend. Who's something like fifty times his size... or a hundred... or more. Wings make it hard to tell. And he's really skinny. ]

Edited 2022-04-14 08:53 (UTC)

[sansa smiles fondly, it really is like watching robb with grey wind. and something occurs to her. she lifts her eyebrows, smile becoming something daring and wry.]

You know, the lost prince Jacerys promised a knighthood to anyone who could ride one of the wild dragons of Dragonstone.

[a knighthood and lands and riches. she may be able to make good on one of them, at least.]

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