The other twin allowed himself to be led further, deeper into the belly of the beast. Though Skylark never felt anything amiss, the back of his throat tingled like something was wrong. Something was... Off somehow. But how? Father was here, taking care of them, and Daddy would be here soon, too. Then they could all play together. For one so young, it had never occurred to him how many hardships he and his brother had gone through. He didn't know it, but it wasn't good for him. Every time he saw someone gored, he felt it become that much more normal.
Not to say, of course, that he wanted to hurt anyone! Oh, no! It was just that he had pretty much seen a war in action, and things couldn't get much worse. Right?
As the white dragon opened the door, Skylark's eyebrows raised and his lips parted for some time. It looked like a heaven! Meadow spreading as far as his eye could see, the baby dragon rubbed his face on his Father's hand and rumbled happily. Never having seen or felt the sun, he was content with assuming that this was sunlight, and he was content here was well. Grinning at his brother, unaware of the dire nature of their situation, he thought about Father and hugged the white dragon. "Father, what is this place?"
There was also the notion that they were the only ones here. Where was Leo? And the rest of them?
---
1883 Chicago World Fair:
Having climbed to the top of the ferris wheel, Edge raised up both his arms as if he was a bird and planning to fly. On either side were his underlings, Noire on one side and Leo on the other. December, Charon, and Forte were either at the castle or doing whatever hydra did when they weren't killing people. Blizzard and Beelzebub had been let loose on the fairgrounds the day before, to try and catch a whiff of the shadow dragons. All five of them didn't need to come, Beelzebub assured them. He could take care of the problem in itself just fine.
Well, Edge wanted to go so he could confirm if Ambrosia really was still alive or not, Noise wanted to see the ferris wheel, and Leo had accidentally shifted forms while in December's room, cursing most of her stuff. Because he was the only one whose scales shed like fur, the oracle would know it was him. Face the wrath of the former goddess or go to a Fair? It was a no-brainer. Yawning, he questioned, "Uhhm, so... You know where they are ..? Or anything...?"
Edge tilted his head to one side ever so slighty, but didn't turn around to face the much taller male. "I can taste them from here. They've been eating too much junk food; their arteries are clogged with fat. Doesn't matter. I'm not one for eating, usually, but with them I'll make an exception. They should be honored," He joked, then scratched behind his neck.
"Let's go."
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"This is fun."
He looked up to see the pretty hydra dressed in a dress with many ruffles and Mary Jane shoes. She sat across from him on the vehicle. It was a contraption made of metal, not what he was used to, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. "Isn't it, though? Humans are amusing with their little contraptions, don't you find?" Edge had on a top hat and grey drab clothes that reflected the era. The sky had just begun to smell like smog, but Edge didn't doubt his own abilities to fix it. He could fix anything. He was a god. "I wonder where Blizzard is. No doubt stuffing her face somewhere. Hope she doesn't blow our cover, though." Noire nodded, distracted by something. Suddenly, Edge kicked open the cage door of their car. They were at the 183 World's Fair, held in the American city, Chicago. They weren't just here for the fun, though. Rumors held that a shadow dragon was hiding somewhere in the city. If that was true, then they needed to sever any links to Ambrosia. Noire hadn't even been born when Ambrosia died, but even in her childhood she knew of the shadow elder.
The pink shadow, she was called. The most powerful of all the dragons, a brash and headstrong woman. Possibly Edge's undoing, because according to him, she had the powers to unravel his. Whatever that meant, Noire didn't need to know. As a hydra, she was satisfied not knowing. She was never really happy anymore, living in the cursed existence. She was only ever frustrated or more frustrated. Though, she supposed, it was better than Beelzebub being either angry or angrier. In fact-
His father's voice calling him out of his sleep, Skylark opened his eyes slowly. He felt clean on the outside, but mucky on the inside. Curling up with his brother, he gently shook the two-toned dragon, fingering his own curls and taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Father? Where... Where are we?" Suddenly, his eyes caught those of another young dragon. In shock, Skylark drew back, only to find the other boy did so as well. Frowning at the unfamiliar dragon, he had never seen a mirror before.
He looked up to see the pretty hydra dressed in a dress with many ruffles and Mary Jane shoes. She sat across from him on the vehicle. It was a contraption made of metal, not what he was used to, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. "Isn't it, though? Humans are amusing with their little contraptions, don't you find?" Edge had on a top hat and grey drab clothes that reflected the era. The sky had just begun to smell like smog, but Edge didn't doubt his own abilities to fix it. He could fix anything. He was a god. "I wonder where Blizzard is. No doubt stuffing her face somewhere. Hope she doesn't blow our cover, though." Noire nodded, distracted by something. Suddenly, Edge kicked open the cage door of their car. They were at the 183 World's Fair, held in the American city, Chicago. They weren't just here for the fun, though. Rumors held that a shadow dragon was hiding somewhere in the city. If that was true, then they needed to sever any links to Ambrosia. Noire hadn't even been born when Ambrosia died, but even in her childhood she knew of the shadow elder.
The pink shadow, she was called. The most powerful of all the dragons, a brash and headstrong woman. Possibly Edge's undoing, because according to him, she had the powers to unravel his. Whatever that meant, Noire didn't need to know. As a hydra, she was satisfied not knowing. She was never really happy anymore, living in the cursed existence. She was only ever frustrated or more frustrated. Though, she supposed, it was better than Beelzebub being either angry or angrier. In fact-
His father's voice calling him out of his sleep, Skylark opened his eyes slowly. He felt clean on the outside, but mucky on the inside. Curling up with his brother, he gently shook the two-toned dragon, fingering his own curls and taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Father? Where... Where are we?" Suddenly, his eyes caught those of another young dragon. In shock, Skylark drew back, only to find the other boy did so as well. Frowning at the unfamiliar dragon, he had never seen a mirror before.
Violet eyes shone happily as the illusion broke and the thing was revealed for what it really was. The Edge that Path knew would have ran up and warmed the other in an embrace, no matter how horrified he may have been. But that boy was weak, and in many ways, an illusion.
The Hydra King would never have embraced a comrade- would he?
-
"I thought I told you not to let any get away... Not a single one." Edge pouted innocently, his servant not daring to make eye contact. His nose wrinkled as he smiled in amusement. Mindlessly, he twirled his scepter, the stone heart of the mighty Elder Lunar dragon was the main piece, and used the other sharp end to pick at his canines. He had someone stuck in his teeth.
Light shone through the obsidian windows, but it was tinted a wondrously smoky black color. If Edge wanted to sunbathe, he would do it on one of the balconies. The boy looked over the other hydra. He was bigger than the king, but so were most of his subjects. The only one he was taller than would be Noire, but when she wore heels she was still taller. Edge didn't have wings or a tail, either. The only things that hinted at his dragon blood were the patches of ebony scales around his wrists, ears, and sternum. His ears were round and his blood was red.
The man standing before him was different. Edge didn't fully understand how it worked, turning others into hydras. It wasn't important. All he needed to understand was that he would have to kiss the other ferociously and take a big bite of their still-beating heart in order to activate the change. And if Charon and Beelzebub were of any note, they didn't fully change right away.
For example, Beelzebub's hair tied in a ponytail had a contrast to its original streaked grey and white at the ends to pure black at the roots. Crimson eyes were beginning to show flecks of purple in them. Bel growled softly, not in defiance but to ask permission to speak. Edge arched an eyebrow, then dropped his scepter and shrugged off his cloak and crown, leaving it all on the throne. The room was triangular, with the ceilings forming an angle at the top. There was one door, and there was a single path to Edge's bed. At the foot of the bed sat his throne.
Edge didn't look intimidating, and this may have been what made him so dangerous. As he walked toward his buff and vicious subordinate, he did so like he was a kid running at an ice cream truck. And as he twisted his fingers into the former shadow dragon's locks and dragged him onto his bed, roughly pressing the man's handsome face to a mirror he kept above his bed, he murmured curiously, "Tell me, Beelzebub, what do you see?" As if he didn't have any idea.
The proud hydra ground his teeth and snarled, "I see-" With a scream, Edge drew Beelzebub's head back and smashed it against the mirror so hard that the glass rippled before shattering into pieces, some of the sharp fragments digging into the man's face. He made no sounds of pain, but Edge heard and felt his heart rate rise.
"I see a slave who refuses to listen to his master. And you know what happens when you don't listen to master. You get punished." Edge whispered darkly before pressing the hydra onto his bed, back down and body exposed. Putting a hand into the air, Edge willed a few needle-sharp knives into existence. Their eyes met, and Edge ran one knife through his shoulder, where the muscles clung. Bel hissed in pain. Satisfied, Edge giggled and lowered a second knife. This one cut away the older man's shirt and Edge buried another one of the knives in the other's breast. Seeing as he had no reaction other than blinking his eyes shut, Edge twisted the knife, causing blood to splatter.
"Now, I don't care if you had to face an elder or not. I am king and you shall do as I command. Clear?"
"...Yes..." Bel rumbled angrily.
"Yes?"
"Yes... Master..." Edge smirked and squeezed the other's cheek affectionately.
"Good boy. Now let's put that mouth of yours to better use..."
Mirror Edge smirked as it answered. "You're pretty warm for someone without a heart, Path-Path." He put a finger to his lips and shushed the other. He then laughed before vanishing from Path's sight, but not before cruelly echoing, "You really are pathetic..."
The Hydra King would never have embraced a comrade- would he?
-
"I thought I told you not to let any get away... Not a single one." Edge pouted innocently, his servant not daring to make eye contact. His nose wrinkled as he smiled in amusement. Mindlessly, he twirled his scepter, the stone heart of the mighty Elder Lunar dragon was the main piece, and used the other sharp end to pick at his canines. He had someone stuck in his teeth.
Light shone through the obsidian windows, but it was tinted a wondrously smoky black color. If Edge wanted to sunbathe, he would do it on one of the balconies. The boy looked over the other hydra. He was bigger than the king, but so were most of his subjects. The only one he was taller than would be Noire, but when she wore heels she was still taller. Edge didn't have wings or a tail, either. The only things that hinted at his dragon blood were the patches of ebony scales around his wrists, ears, and sternum. His ears were round and his blood was red.
The man standing before him was different. Edge didn't fully understand how it worked, turning others into hydras. It wasn't important. All he needed to understand was that he would have to kiss the other ferociously and take a big bite of their still-beating heart in order to activate the change. And if Charon and Beelzebub were of any note, they didn't fully change right away.
For example, Beelzebub's hair tied in a ponytail had a contrast to its original streaked grey and white at the ends to pure black at the roots. Crimson eyes were beginning to show flecks of purple in them. Bel growled softly, not in defiance but to ask permission to speak. Edge arched an eyebrow, then dropped his scepter and shrugged off his cloak and crown, leaving it all on the throne. The room was triangular, with the ceilings forming an angle at the top. There was one door, and there was a single path to Edge's bed. At the foot of the bed sat his throne.
Edge didn't look intimidating, and this may have been what made him so dangerous. As he walked toward his buff and vicious subordinate, he did so like he was a kid running at an ice cream truck. And as he twisted his fingers into the former shadow dragon's locks and dragged him onto his bed, roughly pressing the man's handsome face to a mirror he kept above his bed, he murmured curiously, "Tell me, Beelzebub, what do you see?" As if he didn't have any idea.
The proud hydra ground his teeth and snarled, "I see-" With a scream, Edge drew Beelzebub's head back and smashed it against the mirror so hard that the glass rippled before shattering into pieces, some of the sharp fragments digging into the man's face. He made no sounds of pain, but Edge heard and felt his heart rate rise.
"I see a slave who refuses to listen to his master. And you know what happens when you don't listen to master. You get punished." Edge whispered darkly before pressing the hydra onto his bed, back down and body exposed. Putting a hand into the air, Edge willed a few needle-sharp knives into existence. Their eyes met, and Edge ran one knife through his shoulder, where the muscles clung. Bel hissed in pain. Satisfied, Edge giggled and lowered a second knife. This one cut away the older man's shirt and Edge buried another one of the knives in the other's breast. Seeing as he had no reaction other than blinking his eyes shut, Edge twisted the knife, causing blood to splatter.
"Now, I don't care if you had to face an elder or not. I am king and you shall do as I command. Clear?"
"...Yes..." Bel rumbled angrily.
"Yes?"
"Yes... Master..." Edge smirked and squeezed the other's cheek affectionately.
"Good boy. Now let's put that mouth of yours to better use..."
Mirror Edge smirked as it answered. "You're pretty warm for someone without a heart, Path-Path." He put a finger to his lips and shushed the other. He then laughed before vanishing from Path's sight, but not before cruelly echoing, "You really are pathetic..."
I think 'puppy' was lost in translation.
Any who, I'll have barrels of time in one week when winter break comes!
Any who, I'll have barrels of time in one week when winter break comes!
Weekends.
I really am sorry. I know I'm not the most reliable person, the best plotter, or even the lengthiest rper there is, but I'd be honored if you take me back.
So sorry, I have a really tedious project on The Joy Luck Club.
Edge's head moved so slightly it couldn't be called a tilt. His eyes became pointed at the ends and shiny in the centers. His image blurred in the mirror for a brief moment, but the boy quickly came back into focus. His face was clear again- his tousled night-colored hair stuck up naturally, his skin was unmarked, and he had full pink lips and a small, regal nose. His cheeks, too, were high and defined, and his ears were free-lobed and stuck out a bit.
He wore what he usually did when they were hiding out in the shelter- a shirt with an eclipse print, arctic camp cargo shorts, and because he hated his feet being cold, red checkered crew socks. When he spoke, his voice was as Path remembered. "Relin..." He murmured softly, pouting a bit, before he broke out into a happy grin.
"Ooooh! I know! Tell me more about dragons! I'm a scientist, you know," Edge continued, pressing his hands against the glass and staring studiously at the dragon's every move- every flex of a muscle was an intense scientific discovery. "Like, mmm... tell me about mating..." He continued with a smile, though he coyly refused to look at the dragon any more, instead staring at the tiled floor. He gracefully sat down on his knees and reached a hand under his shirt to scratch at his ribs, moving the fabric up and exposing some of his midriff.
"I... uh... I wish I was there, love. I wish I was in your arms... you know how warm your arms are?"
The pink-haired dragon struggled in his restraints. They had even strapped down his tail, and it was so stretched out it hurt. Lucian ground his teeth angrily as he heard some of the others making soft murmurs. "Ngh!" He moaned gently, lungs and body aching and sore. Even though he was bruised ans battered, the dragon smiled with his eyes.
He was an aura dragon, and no matter what anyone thought, he didn't get into the Yggdrasil Guard for no reason. His breath quickened as he spread out his aura like an umbrella, getting a spiritual picture of the room without having to move his head. He couldn't. His forehead was strapped to the table, and judging by the heavy breathing next to him, the others were here as well.
He found there was one dragon who had not been restrained, and this piqued his interest. Lucian closed his eyes with a moan and left his mouth hanging open. He took laborious breaths, faking extreme fatigue and exhaustion. Meanwhile, his aura reached out and twisted around Anemoli's, hopefully agitating the wind dragon.
He wore what he usually did when they were hiding out in the shelter- a shirt with an eclipse print, arctic camp cargo shorts, and because he hated his feet being cold, red checkered crew socks. When he spoke, his voice was as Path remembered. "Relin..." He murmured softly, pouting a bit, before he broke out into a happy grin.
"Ooooh! I know! Tell me more about dragons! I'm a scientist, you know," Edge continued, pressing his hands against the glass and staring studiously at the dragon's every move- every flex of a muscle was an intense scientific discovery. "Like, mmm... tell me about mating..." He continued with a smile, though he coyly refused to look at the dragon any more, instead staring at the tiled floor. He gracefully sat down on his knees and reached a hand under his shirt to scratch at his ribs, moving the fabric up and exposing some of his midriff.
"I... uh... I wish I was there, love. I wish I was in your arms... you know how warm your arms are?"
The pink-haired dragon struggled in his restraints. They had even strapped down his tail, and it was so stretched out it hurt. Lucian ground his teeth angrily as he heard some of the others making soft murmurs. "Ngh!" He moaned gently, lungs and body aching and sore. Even though he was bruised ans battered, the dragon smiled with his eyes.
He was an aura dragon, and no matter what anyone thought, he didn't get into the Yggdrasil Guard for no reason. His breath quickened as he spread out his aura like an umbrella, getting a spiritual picture of the room without having to move his head. He couldn't. His forehead was strapped to the table, and judging by the heavy breathing next to him, the others were here as well.
He found there was one dragon who had not been restrained, and this piqued his interest. Lucian closed his eyes with a moan and left his mouth hanging open. He took laborious breaths, faking extreme fatigue and exhaustion. Meanwhile, his aura reached out and twisted around Anemoli's, hopefully agitating the wind dragon.
I'm here to stay!
“…The hell’s this for?”
Hands behind his back, the boy feigned coyness. “I know pumpkin flan’s you’re fa-a-a-avorite…” He told the older, drawing out his words slowly on purpose to irritate the other.
“Edge, we’re in the middle of a war, I hardly think it’s time to-“
“Shh! It’s always time for sweets! If you don’t wanna eat it now, either hide it in your pockets or give it to Blizzard.” The hydra sighed before lifting the small saucer to his nose and sniffing it slightly. The gelatinous orange dessert threatened to slip right off, and he put a hand underneath just in case. It was made well, of course, smelling of fresh zesty pumpkin, cinnamon, and sweet milk. Edge was no cook, so Forte was left to wonder where he had gotten the flan from. Perhaps they had had dinner without him, as usual. As the ex-Sky Knight raised his gaze to thank his king, he found Edge with his arms outspread like wings, only on foot planted on the rooftop, and his eyes panning across the autumn cityscape.
It was peaceful, serene, and it would all come to an end. It was early fall, and Edge was determined to find leader of a group of wood dragons that were hiding out in Milan. It was a dangerous move, since the town was as green as could be, and the perfect place for trees to grow. The buildings were brilliant shades of reds and oranges in the setting sun, and the two were standing on the top of a cathedral of sorts.
“She’s near. I can feel it.”
“You grew up with her, right?” The knight inquired, finger gliding over the surface of the dessert and tongue darting out to graze it.
“Not really.” Edge replied plainly, his composition completely changed. “I mean, Ambrosia taught the both of us, but I didn't really talk to her.” Forte was silent in the name of the last elder of the shadow dragons, Ambrosia. Her name meant ‘of the gods’, and even among dragons, she was regarded as one. In the old days, they could see the Ygdrassil anytime they wanted, and when they did, there would be a whole section missing, as if someone had cut it off. Legend told that the old elder of the shadow dragons, Oscell, sawed off a branch of the holy tree and planted it in his yard. It grew a blossom, in which stepped out the young dragoness. It was a rather romantic tale, but the popular explanation of the strongest dragon that ever lived.
“She’s not dead.” Echoed a voice from behind them, and Edge turned slowly to face his old acquaintance. She was stout, and had wooden limbs growing out of her back and head.
“Of course she is, Beoff.”
“She’s sealed away, kept in-“
Edge raised a hand, and the rebel leader was hoisted into the air by her neck by an invisible force.
“I killed her myself.” Edge said with a slight smile and tilting his head to one side.
“W-Why?” She managed to choke out.
“Why? Because she was the only one who could cut me down…”
Charon blinked his eyes open, then heard a voice. He grinned stupidly and growled happily as he was petted. The conditioning was designed so flawlessly, the hydra's will had completely melted away. There was no desires, only the commands he was given. It was an existence he would have never been able to pursue, because Charon led with his heart so much more than anything else. It was so ironic that his king had created something that would doom his subjects.
Edge returned in the mirrors, palm pressed against the glass, a childish pout upon his childish features. "You're no king," He mused, accused.
"I am a king. You are nothing but a shadow, a disgrace."
The bitterness melted from his face in a few moments. "Why?"
Hands behind his back, the boy feigned coyness. “I know pumpkin flan’s you’re fa-a-a-avorite…” He told the older, drawing out his words slowly on purpose to irritate the other.
“Edge, we’re in the middle of a war, I hardly think it’s time to-“
“Shh! It’s always time for sweets! If you don’t wanna eat it now, either hide it in your pockets or give it to Blizzard.” The hydra sighed before lifting the small saucer to his nose and sniffing it slightly. The gelatinous orange dessert threatened to slip right off, and he put a hand underneath just in case. It was made well, of course, smelling of fresh zesty pumpkin, cinnamon, and sweet milk. Edge was no cook, so Forte was left to wonder where he had gotten the flan from. Perhaps they had had dinner without him, as usual. As the ex-Sky Knight raised his gaze to thank his king, he found Edge with his arms outspread like wings, only on foot planted on the rooftop, and his eyes panning across the autumn cityscape.
It was peaceful, serene, and it would all come to an end. It was early fall, and Edge was determined to find leader of a group of wood dragons that were hiding out in Milan. It was a dangerous move, since the town was as green as could be, and the perfect place for trees to grow. The buildings were brilliant shades of reds and oranges in the setting sun, and the two were standing on the top of a cathedral of sorts.
“She’s near. I can feel it.”
“You grew up with her, right?” The knight inquired, finger gliding over the surface of the dessert and tongue darting out to graze it.
“Not really.” Edge replied plainly, his composition completely changed. “I mean, Ambrosia taught the both of us, but I didn't really talk to her.” Forte was silent in the name of the last elder of the shadow dragons, Ambrosia. Her name meant ‘of the gods’, and even among dragons, she was regarded as one. In the old days, they could see the Ygdrassil anytime they wanted, and when they did, there would be a whole section missing, as if someone had cut it off. Legend told that the old elder of the shadow dragons, Oscell, sawed off a branch of the holy tree and planted it in his yard. It grew a blossom, in which stepped out the young dragoness. It was a rather romantic tale, but the popular explanation of the strongest dragon that ever lived.
“She’s not dead.” Echoed a voice from behind them, and Edge turned slowly to face his old acquaintance. She was stout, and had wooden limbs growing out of her back and head.
“Of course she is, Beoff.”
“She’s sealed away, kept in-“
Edge raised a hand, and the rebel leader was hoisted into the air by her neck by an invisible force.
“I killed her myself.” Edge said with a slight smile and tilting his head to one side.
“W-Why?” She managed to choke out.
“Why? Because she was the only one who could cut me down…”
Charon blinked his eyes open, then heard a voice. He grinned stupidly and growled happily as he was petted. The conditioning was designed so flawlessly, the hydra's will had completely melted away. There was no desires, only the commands he was given. It was an existence he would have never been able to pursue, because Charon led with his heart so much more than anything else. It was so ironic that his king had created something that would doom his subjects.
Edge returned in the mirrors, palm pressed against the glass, a childish pout upon his childish features. "You're no king," He mused, accused.
"I am a king. You are nothing but a shadow, a disgrace."
The bitterness melted from his face in a few moments. "Why?"
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