The Obsidian Isle

The Obsidian Isle may or may not be updated regularly, but it was previously written on a Google Doc, so there will be a lot to binge-read in the beginning.
It takes place in the Wings of Fire universe, but is far enough removed to be edited into a story of its own.
It features my OCs Anglerfish and Magmacore.
Lastly, it does not take place in chapters, but rather a transition from one PoV to the next.
So, without further ado, let's begin.
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So...hot.
    Anglerfish had been swimming for what felt like weeks. It was probably only a couple days, but she was sure she’d drifted off to sleep at least ten times. It wasn’t like she had any real concept of time, though, when she’d lived in the dark at the bottom of the ocean for her entire life—her sleep schedule was completely random. The light and the heat were getting unbearable, and she was getting so dizzy, the world fading in and out around her...
...
    It happened again, didn’t it? Well, there was kind of an upside, at least. She kept slowly floating towards the light every time she fell asleep. Her salmon-colored wings, tail, and talons were sore from days of endless movement, and she struggled to stay awake, every push upwards was a fight she seemed to be losing.
    But she had passed the point of no return days ago. There was no other choice. Angler felt funny, lightheaded, as the sea around her went blue, and the strange light grew stronger and brighter and whiter and then—
    She broke free.
    Anglerfish gasped for air, the light above her sending waves of blistering heat down on her worn scales. She cried out, exasperated, but excitement was hidden beneath layers of tiredness and pain. Somehow, after never using them in her life, her nostrils flared and took in the crisp oxygen making up what little of the surface world she had seen. After flailing her own limbs around in the new, extremely strange emptiness, she felt strong arms tugging on her body. Pulling her where, Angler didn’t know, and she spun around after a moment of pause and hissed.
    And then she saw a dragon.
    Another dragon, at last, finally, after years and years. 
    Are all dragons this beautiful? She wouldn’t know, of course, there was nothing reflective to see her own face with, and she lived on the seafloor, no other sentient beings around for miles. “Who are you?” she mumbled. The new dragon stared at her confused, and then turned around and pulled her hard onto sand. Different sand. It certainly felt different when it was all hot and dry, it felt grainy, less silky and soft.
    She got up, unsteady, and promptly fell over, for there was no water to keep her upright. “Who are you?” she repeated, her head on the ground and her limbs sprawled out. The stranger tipped her head, and then started growling, as though she suddenly remembered to be angry, for whatever reason. She made odd, roaring and grumbling sounds, ones that Anglerfish didn’t understand. “Oh.” She looked down, wings drooping. “Of course, I’m an idiot. You wouldn’t speak my...” Ironically, she realized, she didn’t have a word for “language”—the one she was speaking was one she made up to categorise things. It was a tongue only she spoke, isolated for her entire life. “I came so far...all for nothing.”
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    Magmacore was extremely confused. She paced around on the warm sand, thinking. She can’t speak Dragon? How? There wasn’t any other language she knew, except the old Pantalan one, which hadn’t been spoken in centuries. Actually, probably millenia. Plus, it kind of sounded like mashed-up words from Dragon, but whatever gibberish this water-logged stranger was saying sounded nothing like anything she knew.
Unless...
    She took a step closer to the new, strange dragon, who seemed to be staring at her in awe, and lightly traced the glowing white stripes along her neck, before pulling away when the other flinched. “Do you...speak Aquatic?” She wasn’t sure if the other dragon understood any of it, until she slowly shook her head. Hm. Calling her ‘other dragon” all the time will get old fast. How about... 
    Magma peered at the stranger’s scales, before squinting at the sky. “Seaborne.” She smiled, and patted one talon down on the soft, sun-warmed sand. “That’ll do. Well, I don’t know how you don’t know anything, but I’m going to take pity on you, and get you some food.” She paused, wondering what she would eat, but ran off into the jungle behind her, figuring Seaborne would take what she was given—she looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. She laughed afterward. It wasn’t like her, the Scourge of Obsidian Isle, to take pity on anyone, poor starved stranger or not.
    She came back only a few minutes later, and was somehow surprised to find the terracotta dragon still laid down by the shore, now asleep. Though, the sun was high in the sky, she didn’t see how Seaborne could be sleeping in such bright light. Magma could, of course, for her nights were forever illuminated by the fiery orange lava bubbling in her stomach—the reason she fought so hard to defend her volcanic home. She stepped over quietly (which wasn’t a hard feat, considering the softness of the sand below) and slid an ocelot, partially cooked by the heat of the island’s fire, to the stranger. When she didn’t respond to the smell alone, Magmacore poked her head with one claw. “Hello?” And then Seaborne jumped up, suddenly awake, and bit her talon hard. Magma roared with pain and fury, pulling her arm back. “What was that for?” she spat, while rubbing her hurt talon with the other, stepping away. The other dragon looked startled for a moment, then fell over again and looked at her sadly. She didn’t know what Seaborne’s word for “sorry” was, but her face portrayed it pretty perfectly. She made a couple of noises Magma couldn’t understand, and the lava-filled dragon turned around, stomp-galloping back into the ashen deltas.
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    The bright orb was glaring down on her from above, scorching her scales, making her feel even worse. Anglerfish hadn’t meant to hurt that other dragon—it was only instinct! Anything touching her in her sleep was much smaller than her, and free food, obviously, and she was so hungry, and the smell of whatever the stranger had brought her was confusing her snout... 
    She turned her head on the sand, the grainy particles scraping against her sensitive gills. The lights along her side were flickering white, and her head was pounding. But she saw the small yellow creature beside her, its flesh covered in small, flimsy spikes. Upon tearing into the soft meat, she realized they weren’t hard or spiky at all, but there were so many of them—it tasted pretty strange, all dry and tangy. She ate it in a heartbeat, her jagged fangs ripping it open and swallowing it whole, and she felt a little bit better. 
    Who was the dragon who had left it for her, anyway? She wondered if dragons really had that much variety—the two of them looked almost nothing alike, besides the shape of their bodies, and the four legs, tail, and differing amounts of wings. Angler decided to name the stranger, in case she would see her again—she really hoped so. There was nothing where she lived that looked even remotely like her, except the huge stone formations she had run off towards reminded her of the fissures on the seafloor. Fissure, like the cracks that spilled thick red liquid onto the black rocks. Yeah, that worked.
    Her scales were aching, sand prying into the spaces between them, and they were parched from a lack of the water she had spent her whole life in. Anglerfish made no futile attempt to stand up, she knew she would fall again. Which really was such a strange feeling. She really only had the one way to describe it; the water keeping her afloat suddenly was gone, and she had to spend so much energy (which she didn’t have to spare, at the moment) just to stay upright a little longer. 
    The deep ocean was effortless, calm and cool, silky liquid filling her gills and giving her life, the pressure pushing in on her body, preventing her from becoming a squishy, messy blob like the soft sea slugs she loved devouring. How could other dragons live like this?
    Angler slowly swept her tail and turned around towards her home. She reached one talon out, and dug it hard into the scorching sand, trying to pull herself up. One after another, slowly but surely, and she fell with a sweet splash into the sea. The water cooled down and moisturized her scales, and she felt much better on her grounds. She waved her wings, pushing them down, then flinging them back up to dive deep, deeper into the murky depths—the stranger dragon had given her food, so she decided to return the favor.
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    Magma scowled at the RainWing. “Get off of my lands, stranger. I’m not sure if you haven’t heard the rumors of a lava-spitting menace around here, or you’re just dumb, but I’m the lava-spitting menace.” She took one threatening step towards him, scraping her claws into the earth, tilting her head slightly.
    His eyes widened, and he flung up his lime green wings in yield—she felt a stab of envy for wings she never had. “Alright, alright, three moons, I get it!” he said, in more of an infuriatingly...disconvenienced voice more than a fearful one. He got up and swished his wings, taking off, while still groaning. She snorted, then turned around padded back down the hard black rock. That was easy.
    Her talons traversed stone, then soft, ashen dirt for the majority of her trip, and then the dark brown and gray soil merged into pearly white and tan sand. “Well, hey, I’m back, razor-teeth.” She opened her eyes, and her brows furrowed, for the salmon-toned SilkWing was nowhere to be found. “Seaborne?” she said, though Magmacore knew perfectly well she couldn’t understand her—and likely couldn’t even hear her, either. “Where’d you run off to?” She walked lightly across the sand, faint talonprints echoing her steps, searching for the stranger. She swept her tail in a long arc as she turned around, and yelped. 
    There she was, staring at Magma and holding a strange, crinkled-looking, bright orange fish in her maw, her eyes shining and the corners of her mouth tipped up in a smile. The thing flopped for a moment and she bit down on it harder, a long protrusion dangling out of her mouth. “Oh, I think I’ve heard of those from the SeaWings,” the NightWing said, looking at the fish with confusion. “That’s an angler, right? The lure’s hanging out right there,” she pointed out, whilst actually pointing at the strange-looking anglerfish. Seaborne then moved forwards, pushing her face up next to Magma’s, and the other pulled away. “Whoa.” 
    The dragon in shades of peach moved backwards, paused for a moment, as if thinking, and then dropped the orange meat onto the sand. 
    She waited, and then, slowly, her face lit up. Seaborne was already sitting down—in a very awkward position, half of her limbs touching the ground in all areas and half of them outstretched, her wings flapping for balance, as if she wasn’t used to standing—but she sat down fully, and pointed to the fish, tapping it with one claw. Then she brought one talon to her chest, and repeated the motion several times as realization dawned hesitantly on Magmacore’s face. “Are you...Anglerfish?”
    Seaborne—or, possibly, Anglerfish—scrunched up her snout, and flicked her tongue. She made some grumbling sounds, which were starting to fade into legibility, albeit with a slight accent: “Anglerfish?”
    Magma blinked. “Did you actually...speak?” The other dragon suddenly looked mad, and pointed to the dead fish, questioning again. “Anglerfish?” She tapped it several times quickly and lightly with her claw. “An...glerf...ish?” The black and brown dragon paused, before nodding. “Yes. Anglerfish. That is an anglerfish. Indeed.”
    Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
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    Anglerfish tried out the new word. “Anglerfish. Ang...lerfish.” She thought to herself: What was the old sound I used for that word? He, he, gone! It’s useless now! I know a real— She paused. Once again, she did not have a word for language, so she promptly shrugged and made one up. I know a real language!
    She realized Fissure was looking at her confused. “Well then, strange dragon, what’s your name?” The other dragon simply stared. Angler made a hmm noise, and then pointed to herself and the fish, back and forth. “Anglerfish,” she said, pointing to herself this time, and then moved her talon towards Fissure instead, adding, “And you are...?”
The stranger—who was beginning to become less and less of one—replied with a strange noise Angler did her best to copy. Fissure again looked startled, which she assumed meant that she got it right. “Magmacore,” she breathed, not knowing the meaning of the words. “That’s a pretty name.”
    She suddenly remembered. She looked up at Magma, then down at the orange meat. The other dragon faced one claw towards the anglerfish, mumbling, as if to say, You expect me to eat this? The SeaWing tilted her head, and opened her mouth, pretending to pick up the fish and slide it right in. Magma looked almost bemused, and then shrugged, tearing the meat from the ground and nearly swallowing it whole, smiling at her. The black and orange dragon then made a hmm sound as she had, as if thinking, Not bad. And Angler smiled back.
Magmacore paused. She dug her claw into the sand, and tapped it, making another sound repetitively. Anglerfish cupped her talons to bring up a handful of it, and let go with one, pointing. “Sand?” The other dragon shook her head. “Grawf,” she grumbled, still tapping. “Oh, ok. Sand.” Angler said the last part in Magma’s language, pleased with herself. “Sand. Sa-a-and.” The hiss sound in the beginning of the word reminded her of the way sand trickled down her arms as she tried more and more desperately to hold it, or the sound when it did. “Sand!” she yelped excitedly, and the stranger made something she assumed was a laugh. She whipped her head around, looking for more things to learn. Anglerfish looked towards the sea, and started crawling to it, still unsteady and completely confused as to how she was supposed to stand up. But before she reached it, there were talons on her arms, slowly pulling her up. Magma was lifting her, and held one of her arms, picking it up and moving it back down further forward on the sand. She helped Angler do the same thing with her other talon, smiling. She hefted the two of Anglerfish’s wings on one side over her her body, as they took tentative steps forward together. Angler lifted one talon to point a claw at the light. “What is that?” The other said, once again, a noise Angler didn’t yet understand. She did however comprehend how to pronounce it. “Sky?”
Four whole words! Anglerfish! Magmacore! Sky! Sand! How did I get this lucky?
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Magma gazed at the fangs lining Angler’s mouth when she laughed. Those are sharp. She wasn’t exactly going to tack on In a pretty way to the end of her thoughts, even though it was true--maybe she was a strange dragon, but powerful and beautiful were already interchangeable to her. She glanced at the sea dragon’s back, and she could see the strength coursing through her with each step. She smiled, which was strange, and she shook her head at the air.
    Anglerfish suddenly jumped out of her talons, and when Magma looked up, she saw her pointing into the ocean, chirruping some sound over and over. “That’s water.” Angler looked back at her. “Water,” she repeated. She squinted, squishing up her face. “Yes... Water! that is an water indeed.” Magmacore’s eyes widened. “I didn’t teach you any of that.” She paused, remembering. “I did say that, though. You must’ve repeated it.” The terracotta dragon beamed at her, as if excited, though it was unlikely she understood any of what she had just said. “Well, then, if you’re so happy about this, let’s teach you some more things.” 
    “Wings,” she said, touching those of the stranger. “You use them to fly.” 
    “Wings,” the other repeated, thoughtful. She swept her tail in front of the NightWing, and tapped it, tilting her head. “That’s your tail. Tail.” Anglerfish copied her, nodding. “Talon, claw. Talon, claw.” Magma tapped each gently with her own claw. “Talon claw,” the SeaWing stranger said back to her. “Anglerfish talon.”
    “M-hm.”
    The time passed by like waves flowing over the volcanic sand mottled with grains of ash and obsidian. Angler got the hang of nouns pretty quickly--trees and lava and sun. However, she was still struggling to understand anything else, even if she could repeat them perfectly.
"Hi!" she would say to Magma, out of nowhere, when they sat together but apart on the beach. "Stone hi," she would add when describing the large rocks littering the island. There were two particular words she took a liking to: yes and no. "No dirt" easily described the sky, and "Yes fish" indicated a flailing, slimy fish wriggling in Angler's talons.
Category:Content (Peridots-and-hunter-slimes)
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)