Sirensong

Before Darkstalker burned the earth, before his powers took over the NightWings, before the long, dark rivalry with the IceWings began, the NightWings had something yet to return still; happiness. A surplus of resources and a few plucky leaders blessed the cliff dwelling tribe with all the time in the world, time to explore the world itself. 
Knowledge was the key to solving the world. The NightWings could have at the stars with new technology that let them learn about the world. They could examine living things so closely to figure out what really made up a dragon, and play with it. They could cure diseases and predict weather. They could write poetry and solve puzzles of history, and mathematics no other dragon could. They crafted poems and songs, quills in hand and eagerness to write the only thing fueling them. They sculpted and painted and weaved and stitched and carved the dragons and creatures and landscapes of myths, and whatever else came through their heads. Music, art, literature, math, science, history, tribe languages and relationships, culture...
Prominent figures rose in the NightWing world of knowledge, most of them older, rich males. Dragons who seemingly had all the knowledge in the world at their claw tips became famous, renowned, simply for what they could do to impress those with the power. Their writings and teachings were spread across the kingdom, they were honored by their queens, and considered akin to gods.
But they got more credit than they deserved.
They didn’t know her name. They didn’t know her history. They didn’t even know here she lived, or if she was purebred NightWing at all.
But she was beautiful, and smart, and had a way about her that breathed new knowledge and discoveries into the world with a whisper.
She was a muse, and she was forgotten to history. She was only known by those she inspired, those who she blessed with knowledge. Those were the dragons who went on to become the scientists, artists, writers, sculptors, musicians, mathematicians, futureseers, and politicians of the great NightWing times.
And when she tragically disappeared, while those dragons she influenced remembered for centuries to come, she was left forgotten.
But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. With a mind and kind as strong as hers, death wasn’t the same.
A ghost returns to Pyrrhia when the studies of her geniuses are being displayed more than ever, with a modern school in place of the Night Kingdom and the tribes united and recovering.
Time for the NightWings to step up and face the music.
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Tonguetwist shuddered. "This can't be right," he stammered, his claws flicking through page after page. "That's not what a siren is. Sirens aren't dragons, they're... evil monstresses."
The frantic linguist looked up, and for a second he seemed to be sucked in to her crystal blue eyes. The Muse smirked. "What do you know a siren as?" she asked in a silky voice, selecting a scroll for herself. 
Tonguetwist lunged for it, prying the crisp paper from her talons with a yelp. "This is-- this a book on the culture of all dragon tribes. It's not to be messed with."
"Show me what a siren is. According to this scroll," she demanded again, her voice harsher and with a slight lilt. 
The dragon complied. 
He inspecting the many bookmark tabs through all parts of the scroll, growing more and more hasty as the sweat from his fingertips stained the white leaves. "Aha," he said at last, slamming the scroll onto the well-worn wooden desk again. He jabbed a shaky talon at a pen and ink illustration, a glimmer in his wide amber eyes. "This is what a siren is."
The Muse leaned forward, her lips pressed together, fighting a grin. The picture was of what looked like a stereotypically beautiful dragoness, of no clear tribe, but her wings turned to slick feathers and her tail to a fin as she rose from the surface of the water to charmed, unknowing drakes flying just above. 
"This is a siren," Tonguetwist proclaimed triumphantly. "The SeaWings, they created them, but us NightWings have studied them too. They're creatures of the water- they look like a beautiful dragoness on the top, and she has a beautiful kind of voice like a bird." He stared deeper into the paper, running his claws along the sleek scales and ridged feathers of the art. "But when she rises out of the water you see these grotesque eagle wings and tail and talons, and then she strikes dragons down from the sky and dives them into the ocean where she eats them after singing about what they want most, and I guess being beautiful."
The Muse couldn't hold it in. She burst out laughing. "You really believe these storybook monsters are what sirens are?" Her words were mocking, joking, but there was a kind of raspy fierceness to them. "That's what you believe?"
"We know of nothing else, madam." His muscles tight and looking smaller and more compact than ever, Tonguetwist let go of the scroll and let it fold in on itself, clacking back into place and raveling again. Grimacing, the scholar turned towards his chamber door, picking up the tiny candle on his desk, when the Muse grasped his quivering neck with an outstretched talon. Before he could shout, she stabbed her claws into the fleshy skin just under his chin, her webbed talons covering any trace of blood. 
Taken aback, the male stiffened up and struggled, choking out a cry of fright. The Muse only tightened her grasp of his scales, pushing down with her surprisingly strong arms until the NightWing's talons were digging into the floorboards. He choked and spluttered, but only saliva flooded his mouth and tears to his eyes. 
"Tongue is tied, aye?" she mocked with a shiny white grin. Even though her grip on his neck was with only one talon, she could see him getting weaker, his legs crumpling, his veins popping, his eyes pleading when he could say nothing else. His talons slipped as he tried to fight back, and the candle plummeted from his grasp and hit the floorboards. 
The creaking wood of the floor, bending as Sirensong pushed the dragon down, caught fire. The light of the candle traveled across a plank of mahogany, creeping its orange trail along ever so slowly, until suddenly it erupted, bursting into a hot blaze. The two dragons were surrounded by the ever growing fire and the sharp scent of smoldering wood. With one hand on his throat, another hand on the scroll opened to the pictures of the sirens, the Muse chuckled. "I think you culture ideas are a bit misinformed."
She tossed the scroll into the flames. 
This was enough. Tonguetwist wriggled free of her one-handed grasp, gasping for breath as color returned to his drained face. The Muse, dropping to all fours once more and seemingly earthbound again, let him go. But there was nowhere to go. The chamber was shrouded in smoke and flames, the columns of fire now reaching the ceiling. 
"Please," the linguist begged, his throat raw and voice a mere choke. "Spare the life of me and these scrolls, this knowledge. You were supposed to be a muse! You were supposed to help me in my studies!"
"Your studies are built on lies. You have no idea what a real siren, what these dragonesses, can do." As if to prove a point, the dragoness walked backwards, backwards into the fire. There was a sizzling, hissing sibilation, and her scales remained untouched as the fire was stamped out around her. 
The copper eyes, like bright coins, of the scholar widened, glistening with tears and reflecting pools of orange. "How do you know?" he asked, his chest shaking and heaving as he seemed to crumple in on himself, growing smaller and smaller to avoid the licks of searing pain. 
The Muse just glowered, staring straight ahead and unblinking. 
"...because you are one." Worry seemed to be wiped off his small, nosy face, replaced with astonishment. "You are a siren; you know what they are. That is your song- it is your music."
She finally smiled, this time earnestly. She spoke, as the fire disappeared with a woosh and the two were plunged into darkness. "Right on, genius," 
Category:Characters
Category:Females
Category:NightWings
Category:SeaWings
Category:Hybrids
Category:Work in Progress
Category:Content (Nibby the Bird)
Category:LGBT+
Category:Deceased