Lexiconum Draconicum

The young, be-coated man stopped in his tracks. He walked down a rather busy sidewalk, later in the afternoon. With the recent change in how the city functioned, he was headed home both rather promptly and without the luxury of public transport.
But today, his eyes were darting around his head more than usual. Between the day-to-day suspicions flaring around, Halcyon citizens on edge, there was something more. Dominik once more turned over his shoulder. He sighted. Almost annoyed, he continued his step, foot after foot, shoes hitting the pavement at a rhythmic pace.
Want to or not, he could not shake the feeling he was being observed.
Perched on the rooftop of a nearby building, the younger Lancelot observed the young man while leafing through an old, weathered tome lying next to her, her other hands holding on to the spear at her side. She had been out fighting GREY soldiers, like every day of the past week, when she noticed Dominik walking, and her curiosity had made her follow across the rooftops, observing.
She ran a gauntleted finger across an illustrated diagram of the acid sacs of a green dragon, and shakes her head before taking a bite of her croissant.
Elle had dealt with dragons before. Not extensively, of course - even Avalonian knights don’t seek them out without good reason, and Elle had only been a squire long enough to accompany two hunting parties. But she had seen them up close. She knew what they could do. It had been drilled into her since the earliest days of squirehood. 
And this one wasn’t your average swamp wyrm.
Abruptly, the direction of the wind changed. She snapped the tome closed and jumps up, but it’s too late; the dragon would have caught her scent by now.
Down below, despite his strange appearance, Dominik was but another face in the crowd. Even with his height and the two spots amidst his hair, he did not stand out. The teenager was surrounded by animal-men, the Transformed. Some entirely monstrous. Some merely hinting at their bestial nature. Ever since T-Day Halcyon, the city was not the same - but by this point, the otherwordly became mundane.
Red light turned to green. The flood of people was unleashed. Two currents of heads, faces, genders and even natures clashed. One person meandered between another, interweaving with the oncoming traffic of pedestrians. As quickly as the deluge started, it ended. Green became red, and the automobile busybody all but began its roaring traversal back and forth. Dominik was on the other side, heading towards the next street already.
Except he was not. There was, for all intents and purposes, no sight of the boy from that much afar.
The moment the light turned, Elle continued her pursuit across the rooftops. It took a certain… anticipation, a prediction of your prey’s movements; the buildings were not designed to be traversed this way, so movement is much slower than the streets below. 
After jumping from the railing of a fire escape to an old carved facade, taking care not to disturb the family watching television inside, she realized she’s lost her quarry.
She sighed and descended back to street level, sliding down one-handedly from a rainpipe.
“I don’t know how you lose a dragon-possessed horned giant in a crowd. Good job, Elle.”
Before the squire-knight could finish her descent, a particularly mighty bull-man yelped and yelled. “Oi! Watch it, kid!” The horned giant rose his hand and shook it at the miniscule commotion forming at the streets. Just a little bit ahead. Just at the nearest bend in the sidewalk - where the main road met with a small back-alley.
Just the smallest flicker, a glimpse, of her quarry. The sight of those fiery-red hair, and two dark brown spots jutting underneath. The whiff of a greenish-beige cloak on the wind, and a quick and abrupt grumble from the disturbed pedestrian as whoever just caused the commotion disappeared into the alley. Before all was said and done, the quarry disappeared.
But this was the track - the dragon-boy has separated himself from the pack. That was the mistake.
Elle mumbled a quick apology to the bull-man before rushing off in pursuit.
The mid-way alley was incredibly narrow. It was run down - glamour was the last word one would use to describe it. Damp and dank, trash containers discarded and left to abandonment. Tiny windows climbing up and up, never getting their share of sunlight. A chain-link fence, blocking gods-know-what from gods-know-who, in a place nobody comes to in the first place. A fire escape, one like any other building has, criss-crossing ever upwards, just out of reach from the pedestrians. Even vaulting up to one would be a difficulty, as the full length of the spear would just not fit in its full length.
But these were the tracks. A tumbled-over trash can. A very clear, indented and torn depression into the chainlink fence. A loosened brick, a bent railing on the fire escape. Dominik passed here, and he seems to have thrown subtlety to the wind. He stomped and bounced his way, tracks leading up towards the rooftops in a wild goose chase.
And, of course, the flutter of his cape. Caught in but a second’s glimpse as it disappeared over the edge of the building’s very top. He was near.
Lancelot took a few steps back, surveying the scene. The route taken would be difficult to follow. No, this would require a different approach…. It wouldn’t be subtle, but the time for subtlety was over.
She took a running start and threw the spear with all her might it to the top of the building before reaching forward with her other hand and Calling herself to it, sending herself flying at top speed through the air. As the hand made contact with the shaft once again she flipped, landing at the edge of the roof.
The tome, evidently not secured well enough, fell from her belt onto the roof.
Once again, however… the dragon child was nowhere to be found. The rooftop of the building spread itself wide before the knight - a simple staircase leading up, a few vents… and nothing. The same old tattered covering as every other building in the district. Dominik, apparently, somehow managed to master the art of becoming invisible. He was nowhere to be found.
At the very same moment the tome fell to the ground, a voice both yelped and sighed a deep sigh of relief. It came not from left, nor from right… but from below.
Right there, behind Lancelot, huddled against the relatively narrow space of the brick overhang beneath the inner edge of the rooftop, was Dom. The teenager held his arms crossed over his chest, his body stretched and fully straight as he fit himself almost to a T. Yet, he was relaxing. Rolling himself over from the cramped hiding spot, he all but tumbled to his side and seized the tome with his eyes while looking up towards the knight.
“Holy crap you scared the living daylights out of me, Lancelot. Lancelle. Elle… whichever fits best, I suppose. I thought it was more of those G.R.E.Y. bastards or somebody like that…”
Elle narrowed her eyes. “No, just me. There are no G.R.E.Y goons within a few blocks. I have made sure of it.”
She instinctively set a few steps back, keeping Dominik at spear’s length. “Dominik. I wanted to thank you for your role in the lady Rhiannon’s rescue. You fought very well.”
The book was old, with leather binding depressed with a relief of a dragon, spear through the neck. The title reads ‘Lexiconum Draconicum’.
In contrast to Lancelot’s posture, Dominik behaved almost casually so. He rolled himself from the ground, and sat cross-legged where he laid moments ago. He spoke, the weight of the situation seemingly flying over his head. His hands patted the dirt from his cloak and shirt.
“Thanks. I owe you too - that sweep-the-leg thing you did, it was cool and really effective. I’m happy Rhi-rhi’s back,” he smiled, eyes distant in momentary reminiscence.
“But, uh… you need something? I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that these eyes trailing me ever since I left work were you, right?”
Though he did not ask, he did regard the book with particular attention - and perhaps with a strange, particular glint of familiarity in his eye.
“Yes, they were. I apologize for the deception, but it is not every day one sees a dragon hole up in a horse doctor’s practice.
How much do you know about that power you channel, I wonder? I’d guess you aren’t the dragon yourself… even if your attractive frame mimics the way dragons usually disguise themselves, vain as they are, you don’t give that impression.”
“Well, I, uhm…” Dom stammered. Sitting beneath the woman, he seemed much smaller than he was ordinarily. His eyes were unfocused as his mind clearly struggled to catch everything being thrown his way. Eventually, he put his hands on his lap, and began to twiddle his thumb as the faintest blush grew bright upon his cheeks.
“...thanks, uh… for the compliment…”
And a second later, his eyes flared in realization.
“Wait, was that a compliment, or an insult?!” he blurted out, and shook his head - wild, more to clear his embarrassment rather than to disagree with any point made. “I’m not a dragon! Gramp’s a dragon! Well, not really, but he kinda is! All this time I thought you wanted to talk about D&D!”
“Gramp? Your grandfather is a dragon? So it is draconic blood you use… I know not your Deeyandee. Is that the dragon’s name?”
Elle set a step forward and knelt to get closer, hand still on her spear. “Dragons are dangerous, Dominik. They may seem reasonable, intelligent, or even charming, and they are all those things, but they are also capricious, and they do not care about us. A dragon may live among you as your neighbour for years, then one morning decide to reveal itself and burn your village. It will do this as easily as it wishes you a good day in the morning, and with as much care for the outcome. I do not choose this analogy mildly. It has happened.
We are nothing to them but idle amusement. You should not trust them.”
“Well, I mean, of course, you are correct. I recall the passages very well and all of that,” Dom began. He got himself up. Little by little, the dragon-child rose to his full height. As he spoke, he continued to tap his hands against his legs, sides and rear - dusting himself and his articles of clothing from whatever he laid upon moments ago.
“And you’re sort of right here as well, I mean… not the bit about being related by blood, because I don’t think he has blood to speak about, being a spirit and all. That and, I’m not sure, but from what he tells me he kind of predates our universe, but don’t quote me on that, it’s notoriously difficult to understand some things he tells me. But no, really. He’s been made to eat dirt, literally so… and I kinda had to suffer the aftertaste as well, but we’re cool now, really!”
All the while, Dominik spoke rather rapidly. His tone was not entirely serious, but pressured. The spear certainly did contribute to the fact. His stream of thoughts was aimed at the questions, but meandered - trivia and idle musings interlaced with proper answers. Then, right as rain, the eureka moment flared upon his face.
Dominik turned to Elle, eyes wide in shock. “You’re not talking about D&D at all, are you?”
“I am not. I am being very serious. I lost some of my fellow squires to dragonfire. Talented young men and women, who would have made great knights one day, and the dragon only a youngling. If it had been fully grown, I probably would not be here today.”
Elle took off a gauntlet, revealing a nasty burn snaking its way up one forearm. “I am told that my King sacrificed himself killing a dragon above this city, years ago. He did this world a service.”
The young man’s expression did not change. The shock persisted, calming down and peeking once more upon the scar’s reveal. Between the buffeting of winds, the bustle below, and the occasional distant car klaxon sound - the two atop the roof stood in silence.
“I’m… I’ve heard the story. I wasn’t aware this has happened to you, however. I’m…” he started, yet stopped. Dominik’s voice fell. Faint and quiet He lingered, before continuing on. “...I know this is basically a stranger’s pity, but I’m sorry for… for your loss and for what has happened.”
Dom stood, silent, his apprehensive yet good mood vanished well and true.
Elle put her gauntlet back on, and shook her head. “You are no stranger, Dominik. We have fought together. I am proud to call you a teammate. That is not why I showed you this.
I showed you this to tell you: If he talks to you, do not listen. I trust you, Dominik. You have earned that. I do not trust the power you wield. Wield it with caution.
No good comes of dragons.”
Elle gave him a nod of respect, and held out a hand for the book.
With a nod, the other teenager extended his hands - the leather-bound tome heavy. In a moment, the two held the book together. Yet, as Dominik’s fingers traced away from the cover, his face betrayed a deep-lingering sadness. It was not regret, or worry - the way he held his lips, and the way his eye avoided the armoured gauntlet was all too reminiscent of a child being told they have accidentally done a great evil.
“I can see where you’re coming from…” he muttered, and each word became gradually more and more silent. So much so, the last few breaths carried not words, but wind alone - he mouthed the utterance, but no sound came true.
Yet his lips spoke for themselves - ‘but he’s different.’
She froze, halfway through turning to leave. 
“How? The older they are, the more dangerous. If this one is as old as you say, he might be more dangerous than anything we have encountered. I hope you are right, Dom, for all our sakes.”
“I’m certain!” the young one shouted, just as the knight turned away from him. His face remained scorned, in both sadness and building frustration. He did not seem angry, but closer instead to being moved - to tears.
“I know this is going to… this is going to sound completely out of one’s mind,” Dom continued, daring not to take a step forward. “But I can tell when he lies or tells the truth! And he has not lied to me but a single time ever since we’ve put our differences behind!”
His voice, again, grow quieter. “I know it doesn’t make sense… and I don’t know how to show any proof… but… but it’s like a gut instinct that you know whether you’re talking out of your butt, or being honest. And I feel it like that. Except it’s not my gut… it’s his…”
Elle frowned. “Sometimes one does not have to be lying to be hurtful, or deceitful. Gwendolyn was not lying when she said I was not her real father, but it still hurt me. To me, I am. What is truth to me was not to her, yet neither of us were lying. Similarly, you can deceive with the truth. Misrepresent. Misguide.”
She was quiet for a moment, then let go of her spear, which vanished into the ether. “I am sorry if my words were hurtful. I like you, Dominik, and I would like nothing more than to trust you when you say he is no harm to this world.”
For the longest time since forever, Dom stood there completely bereft of words. Yet, his posture was adamant. His fists were clenching, and his cheeks were both flushed with a light blush. His eyes were open wide, yet the tiniest tears formed in their corners. As he stood, he huffed and clenched his eyelids shut. What few specks grew together, and formed a faint line that slid itself against the boy’s skin - eventually drying before it reached half of his cheek.
Dom rose his hand and wiped his face, drawing the air in with a small sniff. “Can I call you Elle?” he asked, but before the knight could answer, the dragon-boy added more to his words. “Could you tell me more, about these dragons you’ve met? I want to hear it… and see how things are for good.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “It is a nickname given to me by my true love, back home. Lancelle is…” She scratched her head. “A failed attempt at subtlety, I suppose. Like my older self calling himself Lance L. Ottersby. It seems creativity does not run in the family.”
“Stories of dragons are common in Avalon, and it can be hard to distinguish fact from myth. The world has existed for a long time, many generations of knights and sorcerers leaving their marks on the land. No few were called Lancelot.” A twinkle in her eye. “I can tell you about four in greater detail.
The story I told you earlier, of the village burned overnight - that happened when I was a page. A village in the mountains known as Dunford. The village’s blacksmith, a well-respected man, decided one day he had had enough of life as a simple blacksmith and revealed himself to be the black dragon Dagomar. 
I accompanied the knights on the hunts, though I did not fight. Only half the hunting party returned. During… I heard, we all heard, the dragon mocking us. Each of us in turn. Dagomar mocked my fear, urged me to grab a sword and join the fray. He mocked the villagers, his neighbours, as he fell.
He had lived there for decades. By all accounts, he had been kind and hard-working. But decades are nothing to a dragon, and that life had been a whim.”
As she spoke, Elle flipped the book to a page on black dragons. There were some illustrations of Dagomar’s tale.
The lad sad down next to the knight. As she spun her tale, he observed. All the while, his expression appeared blank - neither betraying approval, nor showing disdain. Yet, as the story continued to weave itself before Dom’s eyes, his flat lips began to crack. What began as a slight frown eventually turned into a clenched underbite of anxiety and misery. His foot began to skip, and his fingers curled against the brick he perched himself upon. This was not an interesting story from a fantasy book - this was, in one way or another, to someone out there - sordid reality.
“That’s… horrible…” Dom muttered. His voice was low - unsure, held back, quelled. He trailed up towards Elle, and stared the young knightess upon her cheek. “I… I am trying to understand where this is coming from… I’ve felt no bigger than an ant when Gramps has been trying to show me the world through his eyes. But even then, should an anthill share with you the same yard… I guess… I would have reservations, many of them, from just… getting rid of them.”
He huffed. “That’s balls, is what it is. Even if it was just a moment for him, I don’t get how he could not have… grown to like these people. Are all dragons in this book like that? Just… cruel and playing with lives like kids play with ants and magnifying glasses?”
Elle closed her eyes, as if frustrated. “No… not all stories are like this. There are stories of honourable dragons, of just dragons, of dragons who show up as aid in an hour of need.”
She flipped the book to a page on silver dragons. An illustrations showed a slim woman in a dress, scales covering her hands and neck, horns jutting from her forehead.
“I met this dragon when a Knight I followed was on a quest. Her name is Glannwen, and she is known to the locals as a witch. That may sound bad to you, but… while witches are feared, they are also respected. A witch can be turned to when unexplained disease strikes the cattle, or when a woman has trouble during childbirth. 
Our reasons for being in that forest had nothing to do with her, but I got separated from the knight, and wandered the forest when she appeared to show me the way. She was…. One of the most beautiful creatures I have ever laid my eyes on, and I will admit to having been awestruck. She helped me that day. But, Dominik,”
Elle turned towards the boy, a serious look on her face.
“You speak of ants. This is apt. There are those of us who treat animals with contempt, with callous disregard. Some, when confronted with an anthill, will give them food and watch idly in amusement before suddenly trampling it. Some never trample. But to the ant, both are to be feared, because you can not tell one from the other. Not truly. Glannwen may be honourable, but she could decide to wipe that region off the map at any time.”
Again, Dom appeared enrapture by the tale. The knight storyteller spun her anecdote, and the boy listened wholesale. At first, he gleamed with hope. Then, he shone with wonder. And when the aesop came, he soured with bitterness. He pulled back from next to Elle, and crossed his arms. Once again, he appeared no different from a child not enjoying the bedtime tale told him.
He opened his mouth in protest. “Well, but in a way, she didn’t, no? Because… there’s a reason people do what they do beyond just whims. I mean… sure, things may start off as whims because who else thinks about consequences when they bark out they want to be an astronaut in class. That’s a whim.”
He unfurled his arms, and continued. Bending forward, his gaze was locked with Elle’s. “But you grow up, with others. You learn stuff like… what others can do for you, and what you can do for them. You become dependant, but in a good way - because you help, and you’re helped back. Not just physically, either. In fact, that’s less of a concern. The real big thing is how you think of people. How you make them feel, and how you make them feel back, no?”
Leaving his own question unanswered, hanging, the horned teenager stood up. He began pacing slowly, his hands gesticulating passionately as he attempted to draw shapes to the sentences he spoke. “I’m not from… Avalon, if I got that right. I’m from Earth, here, so what to you is reality to me is myth or some sort of cool comic book. But, this works the other way around too. If our myth is your reality, then other myths have to have places like Avalon, but elsewhere, where they’re real.”
And with that, Dominik clapped hand against hand. Again, his eyes shone with an idea. “Like the Eastern Dragons. The great noodly wyrms with fish scales and a majestic mane. You heard of those, right?” he asked, expectantly.
Elle frowned. “You have a point; having the power to destroy does not mean using it. I have the power to destroy, as does Rhiannon, and Gabe, and many others on our Big Team. The reason we do not is our care for others. Mine is codified in vows, but that is just a way to dedicate oneself to them.”
She stayed seated as Dominik started pacing, her hands still on the tome. It was true, the knights of Avalon did not always ride out to destroy it whenever rumours of a dragon reached the halls of Camelot. Some claimed that it was too dangerous, that the manpower could not be spared unless the threat was immediate.
But Elle had always hoped that a part of it was the hope that this time, the dragon would not prove hostile.
As Dom finished his question, she smiled. “I have not, but I am sure you will tell me.” She pat the top of the airconditioning unit she was seated on.
“Then get a load of this”, Dominik began perhaps in the most inopportune manner possible. Despite his momentarily crass phrasing, the boy clapped his hands with excitement. His voice rang out loud and clear. It was not merely abuzz with anticipation, but driven with a strange kind of determination.
“In the East, dragons are almost entirely different for how we see them in Halcyon. First, they are less giant winged reptiles - six limbs or four notwithstanding. They’re noodly, like snakes… but more like serpents! They can be big as a planet, or small like a grain of sand. Really, they’re sort of in between, since they can freely change their size.”
The dragon-child narrated. His hands waved in the air, fingers coming to as if he was holding a grain of rice, and then a huge fish. He drew his arms in a lengthy manner, like a strip of paper left to flutter on the winds.
“Their scales are like a carp, they have these fluffy tails and majestic manes. And instead of horns… antlers!” he shouted, pointing his own hands splayed from a pair of horns cleanly visible through the red mane of his own. “They’re also not made of fire, but control water and bring about rains and good harvests. They do not control people or hoard treasures, but instead guide men and women along with the gods, gather and dispense wisdom to those of noble heart and… yeah, they’re basically good gods!” Dom said, exhausted from his own tirade. On his face beamed the brightest smile.
As Lancelot listened closely, an inky black blob gooped out of a seam in her armour and perched on her shoulder, growing a pair of cat ears and eyes. She absentmindedly pet it. It made a soft purring sound.
“I see. I had not heard of this. How far east is this? Farther than the Moors?” She scritches Fleur. “Avalon has not had much contact with the outside world in a long time, and few stories reach us.
These Dragons do sound much more pleasant than the ones I am used to.”
Dom continued to beam, and excitedly walked over to the knightess. “Exactly! And they’re not that far. Actually, these stories start as early as… uh... “
The horned teenager paused, and appeared at a loss. His face scrunched and he began to simultaneously scruffle his head and pace around in deep thought. “Darn… I don’t… I wanted to show you but I actually… wait!” he blurted out, and quickly dove his hand into his pocket - producing a simple flip phone. Opening the device, his fingers tapped furiously against the little pads as he drew closer to Elle.
“Here, see?” he asked, showing the screen to the girl. It was a map of the world, Earth as it were. Dom’s index finger tapped against a large continent to the left. “That’s America, Halycon should be somewhere where I’m tapping. So if you go all the way to the east…” he began, and stopped around the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It turned around. He quickly drove it past the continent he had showcased a moment prior, off the edge of the screen, and flung it to the archipelago on the opposite end. “...which for us would actually be closer if we went further west, to be honest. Anyway, this region right here. And the big one here too, and that one too.”
“See--wlbha!” he stumbled, caught unaware of the strange feline apparition manifesting from between the armour’s seams. The phone went, predictably, flying. Dom, predictably landed on the rooftop with a thud. Right on the butt.
“What’s that?!”
Elle peered at the screen intently when shown the map. “That’s a very long distance away… You know, I was unaware the world was this large before I went into space. I had a lot of time to get used to it, being on a ship shaped like Earth, but… without all of these magical modes of transport you have here, it takes a long time to even get to the next kingdom.”
She chuckled when Dom falls, and deftly snatches the phone out of its arc through the sky. “Do not be alarmed, it is harmless. This is Fleur! Her brother Percival lives at Parrot’s place right now, we share custody. I know not what she is, but isn’t she adorable?”
She held the catblob out to be inspected as she hands the boy back his phone.
“Thanks,” Dom said as he took the phone. He rose himself from the floor since, and once more all but ritualistically slapped himself all over to get rid of the seemingly endless avalanche of invisible dirt upon his apparel. Now at attention, his eyes wearily eyed the cat-like creature resting atop the knightess’ hand.
“You know, that’s kind of cute for a cat-creature, but I hope it doesn’t shoot lasers from its mouth… like that one other alien creature we’ve met. Except that one was a dog. I think. Either way, thanks, it was a nice catch.”
Straightening himself, the youth continued. “If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, is that, uh… dragons tend to be pretty global. Almost every culture has something of that sort. Western Dragons, Eastern Dragons, Leviathans, flying serpents and whatnot. Winged, wingless, six limbs, four limbs, sometimes even two.” He laughed. “It’s such a hot topic people argue over what can even be called a dragon these days.”
With that, his merriment did not quite cease. Still, his emotion was subdued but a little. Joy replaced with a stray thought - not unwelcome, judging from the pucker of his lips. “You could say I get a gut instinct that most of them are… real, in one way or another. It’s not my gut instinct per say, but Gramps’... but each time I gawk over all these Monster Manuals and other assorted books, and there’s a dragon in there, I can’t help but feel a measure of disdain. Not mine, don’t get me wrong. His, I sort of feel what he feels and vice versa. And it’s not quite disdain either. It’s like… someone drew a picture of you, but it was really, really, really poorly made. Awkward, maybe…?”
Elle pursed her lips in thought. “Was the realness of dragons ever in question? They most definitely exist in Avalon, and they evidently do here as well, since my king died fighting one. I may not have seen any since coming here, but I had simply assumed they were walking around in human guise.” She gestured at Dominik as she said it.
“A monster manual sounds like a useful book to have. There are many monsters, and when fighting them it is useful to have access to as much lore as you can. Said lore is often wrong, of course - superstitions amassed over the years. Few know if vampyr truly detest garlic. Perhaps that is the disdain you sense? Disdain at humanity’s misinterpretations of dragonkind? Disdain at our fears and superstitions?”
“Well, again, I don’t feel any disdain myself. I do, but that’s not my disdain. That’s Gramp’s. I know I’m wording myself awkward here,” the teenager said as he rose his arm to rub awkwardly against the nape of his neck, “but nothing else comes to mind. Telepathy, maybe? Tele-empathy, there we go… yeah, I know I’m not helping.”
And in one fell swoop, his hands once again began to twist. Dom narrated on. “How to put it differently. Imagine if someone wrote a song about you, but only mentioned like… a quarter of the important bits. Then someone else did as well, but mentioned the other quarter, and completely omitted the one the other guy mentioned. That’s the sort of… feel I’m getting from Gramps here. Less so that we’re misinterpreting dragons, but rather, than the misinterpretations are based off imitations, which themselves are imitations of imitations… of imitations…?”
Dom smiled a disarming, if oafish smile.
Elle chuckled at Dom’s struggle to find the words. “I get what you’re saying! Telempathy is as good a word as any. You feel what he feels, or a glimpse of it.”
“Are you implying that the dragons I have met, the dragons I have fought, are just imitations?”
The horned boy shook his head. “No, of course not. They’re real, I mean, flesh and bone and really hot-hot fire and packing a mean punch, no?” he asked a rhetorical question. Again, his eyes became slightly unfocused as he searched for the appropriate terms.
“Compared to him, to Gramps… he seems to think that all the dragons I’ve seen so far, the ones we have over here, are like knock-offs of himself.”
Elle’s eyes wandered to the horns as she thought. “I see. Much like humans are knockoffs of Adam and Eve, I suppose. What does that make you and your horns? A watered down version of a knockoff? Did I misinterpret your situation?”
“I would like to note that I am not judging.” She said, reaching up to move her hair, displaying a very slightly pointed ear. “I am only mostly human myself. The Du Lac family line originates in a fey spirit long ago, not to mention all the other stray bits acquired from decades of a family with a… proud tradition of dating non-humans, to say the least.”
As Dominik struggled to respond, he found himself listening in to Elle’s own explanation. He gawked, and tilted his head in both fascination and confusion. It seemed that it was as if he either did not see, or paid no attention to the ears himself - only now realizing they were like they were, all along.
“Uh… huh… would this make you something close to a half-elf?” he spoke in the best way he could comprehend. “...I don’t think I can think about playing that game seriously anymore…”
“But!” he interrupted himself, for lack of a better target. His train of thoughts skipped from one track to the other. “I… don’t know? They’re kind of both his and mine. When we’re in any of the Spirit worlds, we tend to get a bit… blended. And last time, uh… Gramps went all out to protect me…” he mutters out, voice low.
“Oh! So it is more like the more you use his power, the more of him emerges? That’s fascinating. I have definitely never heard of any dragonkin that do that.”
“Sort of…?” Dom quizzed nobody in particular. “It’s more that… if we really focus on something, and think really the same… it’s starting to	 get a bit fuzzy to know where I end, and he begins, and vice versa. And apparently, if we get too close, this happens,” he poked his horn, as if to make a point.
“But he did tell me it’s temporary, so no need to worry. I should be back to normal… uh… soon.”
Elle looked a bit sad at that. “Surely there’s no need for that! They look nice. Dashing. A hint of the arcane to go with your general good looks.”
For once, the teenager had nothing to say. His posture, despite his build, all but visibly shrunk. His cheeks were red. “T-thanks…”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, I am not intending to hit on you! I don’t think Gwendolyn would approve of me dating her friends. Especially since she seems to want less of me in her life, not more.” The laugh did not reach her eyes.
“H-hey…” Dom rose again, his face essentially drowning in concern. Diminishing distance, he approached the knightess. “That’s… I’m sorry,” he said, and sat down next to her. “I… well… I don’t think I can speak on her behalf, but… we all sort of say things we don’t mean to, right? I did that too, a few times, I’m sure you had a slip too. We’re human, we do those kind of things.”
To this, he shone Elle a somber smile. “Especially when times are turbulent, and I know that the entire situation for you two is… particularly so. She’s definitely lost and hurting, but… well, I think she’ll come around.”
Elle smiled sadly. “I hope so, though it might be better if she doesn’t, considering.” She shakes her head and, almost too quickly, grabs the tome again, holding it like a shield between her and Dom, between her and opening up. “Hey, uh, I’d be happy to tell you more about the dragons I know? Don’t worry, I am not planning to spear you. I admit I was concerned about a dragon in the city, but you have convinced me for now. So why don’t I tell you what I know?”
“Uh…” Dom spoke slow. His voice was hesitant. He looked the knightess over one more time - his eyes locked with hers, the pair hidden behind the leather-bound tome. His lip trembled and he sat motionless… before he gave her a dedicated, determined nod. Instantly, his face brightened.
“Friends don’t spear friends over a pair of horns, right?” he joked. “Sure, let’s see what your manual says… I have a feeling I’ll not look at mine the same way for a loooong time.”
With that, Dominik shuffled over to Elle, beaming with excitement.
Elle started her explanation, diving into stories and accounts of the dragons she’s met and heard of, pointing out drawings and schematics in the book as she goes, supplementing it with myths and legends when she doesn’t know. The more outrageous of these were delivered with a grin. She told of various colours of dragons and dragonkin, of sea serpents and wyverns, even of the dragon-like creatures she met in space. As she spoke , her voice relaxed from the tense, emotional, barely-contained one it was to a carefree and cheerful one, her earlier fears forgotten. 
Category:Scenes
Category:Dominik Tegan
Category:Lancelot-Less
Category:B-Verse