Log: Ashton and Barclay - Meeting Toothless [2/2]
WHO: Ashton Hartley and Barclay Grisholt WHEN: Monday, November 19th [backdated] WHERE: Ashton’s room; in the school caverns
Below the school, there were deep-running caverns. They were connected to the caves spilling out into the ocean, and they were connected to the school’s dungeons. Too bad Barclay had no way to access the caverns through that way, because those were locked up good. However, there was another way, a way shown through Barclay via a way Wayfinding Spell. He’d tried it before, armed with a flashlight, but he’d run into a very big fence, effectively locking him out of the part of the caverns he wanted to get into.
It was cool that the school was protecting itself by locking off its entrances, but an iron fucking fence?
They were at the caves, Barclay pulling out a map he’d made earlier.
“Use your flashlight,” Barclay said, as they walked into the darkness of the caverns. “Or can you see in the dark?”
***
The steak had been a nice snack on the way to the caves, and Ashton had even remembered to say thank you, as he was told to do when given things. He'd licked his fingers, finicky about keeping clean, especially after a long afternoon of cleaning with the instructions of the janitorial staff.
These tunnels Ashton still had to explore himself. He had been consumed by finding a lair and was working his way as far from St. Margaret's as possible and circling in closer. Though now, as he admired how hard the stone was with a touch of his hand against the tunnel wall, he thought maybe he should just nest right under the castle itself.
He looked around the cavern, his hunger sated for now, and fingered the flashlight the boy had given him until it flipped on. "No. I don't see in the dark in my human form," he admitted, turning the light to shine down the tunnel. When Barclay produced the map, Ashton stepped closer to read over his shoulder.
"What are we looking for?"
***
“A spell ingredient,” Barclay explained without explaining. “They can be found below the castle, but… Not in the public parts, sadly.”
The caverns winded into the mountain, curving and splitting. It was easy to get lost in here, but Barclay had precautions for that. Besides the map. The map was crudely drawn and very basic, but Barclay seemed to have no problem navigating by it.
“Left here,” he said. “I’ve seen you change your eyes while still retaining your human form. You can’t control it?”
***
Ashton walked alongside him, careful of where he stepped and aware of the other boy, curious what else he had in his pack and he'd tried to sniff it out to see if there was any more meat, but had given up for now. But the suggestion that there was something about himself that he couldn't control made Ashton frown and he shot the beam of light ahead, up on the ceiling of the tunnel, and further down its lengths when they turned left according to Barclay's map and instructions.
"Of course I can control it," he muttered. But he could see what the human was getting at. If he could control it, why didn't he use his dragon eyes for better vision in the tunnels? But that just pointed out the fact that, no, he couldn't control it in reality. "Just... It happens when I become agitated. I begin to lose the control that it takes to hold human form. It's most difficult to keep in the eyes. I didn't realize I had... been obvious about it." He didn't like admitting to a weakness, but Barclay was useful so far. Maybe he had some kind of suggestion, as absurd as that was, a human suggesting to a dragon how to control his form.
"What spell?"
***
“A spell,” Barclay answered flatly. He always played it close to the vest when he was doing a project that wasn’t finished yet, reluctant to share something that might be a failure. It also might be a bit of superstition. Don’t jinx it. Don’t sell the skin before you’ve shot the bear. Old wife’s wisdom, but Barclay knew there could be a lot of truth to sayings, fairytales and folklore. He did add, gratuitously: “I’ll tell you when it’s finished.”
The path wounded down a little, and the temperature had dropped. It was cold, chilly. You could feel the moisture in the air. “So you’re like the hulk, all: grrr, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. Maybe you should learn to control that anger. Try and get control of the emotion, use it, rather than being used by it.” He shot Ashton a sharp look. “There’s nothing more important than being in control.”
And then, suddenly, Barclay’s voice echoed. They had stepped into a large chamber, a cavern that reached up high. It wasn’t as dark in here: somewhere, the ceiling had a few cracks and holes, maybe, allowing a little light in. “We’re almost below the castle now,” Barclay said, and he pointed forward. “And I need you to get me through that.”
It was a large gate, with thick iron bars. It could be raised by a lever, a wrench that would slowly lift it up by a chain. That lever was decidedly on the other side.
***
Settling on that answer for now, Ashton let Barclay be evasive about the exact purpose why they were down there. It didn’t matter to him, in the end. He only was there for his own curiosity. What would a powerful witch need help with? His eyes narrowed, but not to scowl as he thoughtfully considered the boy’s words. Be in control, not the one controlled. It was a goal the dragon had been trying to attain since the Slayer found him in Iceland. That he fantasized about rending Blake from head to toe didn’t actually make it so. He had to first be in control of himself. The anger that fueled him also crippled him.
Ashton looked up when Barclay’s voice echoed and he shot the beam of light into the chamber, a slow smile playing across his lips. He did love a good cave. The light came to rest on the gate. “Hn,” he grunted. Curious.
Crossing the cavern, Ashton shut off the light and set it down, reaching up to touch the heavy gate and noted the control mechanism, located on the opposite side. “We are not meant to pass,” he pointed out needlessly, glancing back at Barclay with a frown. Detention did not fit him well. Manual labor was his least favorite task. Looking up at where the gate fitted into the stone, Ashton could see that it was meant to be lifted by the chain. It was meant to move. He could lift it and not break it, they could slip through to the other side, he’d set it down, and no one would know.
But he wouldn’t be able to move it in his human form. Too weak and too frail. Touching the heavy iron, Ashton couldn’t even rattle it with his human body. Typical. He let out a breath of amusement and stepped away from the gate, backing away from it. “Very well. But if this is some kind of trick…” he threatened, picking up the flashlight again to pass back to Barclay.
***
“Magicians do tricks,” Barclay said wrily. “I’m a witch. We do spells, maybe schemes. But believe me, I’m not tricking you. I know better than to trick a dragon.” There was perhaps a touch of sarcasm in that last sentence.
He shook his head. “Keep it. Put it in your pocket, and we’ll see if it survives your transformation. But I would like your phone. A flashlight is easily replaced; a phone isn’t.” Barclay held out his hand.
***
Ashton held the flashlight and took the phone out instead, digging it out of a pocket of his jacket to hand over to Barclay in surrender. He honestly didn't know what would happen to electronics when he shifted. He hadn't needed to worry about it before. To him, it seemed senselesss to worry about it, his instincts telling him nothing would go wrong, but Barclay was more worldly than he was, perhaps even more knowing on dragon kind. Whatever magic caused him to be able to shift with his clothes and everything in tact may not be so kind to electronics.
One way to find out. Ashton put the flashlight into his jacket.
Even though Ashton didn't appreciate the sarcasm, he was becoming accustomed to it from Barclay and he passed it off with just a brief glare before stepping away from the witch to get space to shift. It was easy for him. He shifted form every night, sometimes midstride through the woods once he knew he was alone and had enough clearance to lift off the ground.
It was like an illusion coming undone, no bone cracking or tendon stretching, Ashton simply shifted, his neck curving, arms and shoulders extending and his clothes turning black - a deep kind of black that drank in all colors and light around in the dark cavern but, as he grew in size, became shiny, black scales smooth as glass. The jacket he wore that he'd taken the cell phone out of became his wings, extending out from his back and stretching as the transformation completed, claws digging for purchase on the floor of the cavern with the scraping sound of knives against rock. A long tail ending in closed spikes swayed through the air and the black dragon shook his head, shivering out the last feelings of what it was to be human, and his silver eyes fastened on Barclay beneath him.
"Move," he ordered, taking a step towards the gate on all four legs.
***
For once, Barclay was at a loss for words. It wasn’t at all like looking at a sketch, a picture or even a CGI-animation. None of those things captured the grace of a real-life dragon. Even the transformation was smooth: with werewolves, it usually was a violent thing, something forcibly taking shape. With Ashton it was more like he was growing into this role, like a bulb opening towards the sun. Or, rather, Barclay compared it to a Pokémon evolving, minus the lightshow.
The dragon was beautiful, even in the faint light. The obsidian scales glinted, and Barclay wondered if they were smooth to the touch. The wings spread out, stretching, the tail curved gracefully. Barclay had always thought dragons to be like dinosaurs, large and unwieldy, but Ashton moved more like a cat: powerful, sleek and dangerous.
“Wow,” the witch said. Instead of moving aside, Barclay stepped forward, mesmerized. He stretched out a hand, wanting to touch, wanting to see if something this beautiful was actually real.
***
When Barclay stretched out his hand and came closer, Ashton paused, angling his wedged head into a threatening posture and showing his teeth with a low growl. But Barclay's move wasn't indicative of danger or a trick. In fact, the look on his face spoke of something else, of wonder and amazement.
Well, Ashton thought to himself, dragons were wonderful and amazing. And he'd promised to protect this human. Harming him would be against the rules, too. And he was certain the Headmistress would be less forgiving of a dead witch than a broken gate. With a certain amount of pride, the dragon straightened his shoulders and let his wings down, folding them like a black cloak around his back and against his sides as one clawed hand lifted to grip the wall, using it to brace himself as he, in turn, lowered his head to inspect the human with all of his enhanced dragon senses.
***
Barclay noted the threatening posture, but he suspected it was simply that: posturing. Why would Ashton be threatened by him? And, sure enough, Ashton relaxed, allowing Barclay to come closer. Barclay imagined this strong, powerful thing flying through the air. Barclay then imagined riding on his back…
He was sure Ashton would never go for that. But maybe… As a favor? But he needed his favor for something else…
Barclay ran his hand along Ashton’s scales, reaching out. Sleek. “You never said you were gorgeous, Toothless.”
***
Flattery worked very well to improving Ashton's disposition. He hummed with pleasure in a low tone, blowing a hot stream of air out his nostrils, but he did feel it necessary to show he was certainly not toothless, and the black snapped his jaws at Barclay, tilting his head. "Of course I am," as he spoke, the glow in his throat that would ignite dragon fire was visible behind his teeth. His scales under Barclay's hand were cool to the touch and he nodded at the gate, claws scraping off the wall where he'd gripped it. "And a gate is no obstacle."
Moving his hand to nudge Barclay out of the way, gentle about it and being sure not to knock him off his feet, he walked to the gate. Settling on his back legs, Ashton's tail undulated in the air and his hands gripped the iron bars, three fingers and a thumb curling through to get a secure hold. Ashton tried his strength against the heavy gate, his muscles coiling and pulling. Clawed toes spread and found purchase in the rock underneath as he hefted, growling at the weight that budged, then started to slide up.
It was heavier than he thought it would be, his tail slashing behind him at the challenge as he put more strength into it. Slowly the gate lifted and the chain rattled on the other side.
***
Ashton’s voice was lower, but not necessarily that of a monster. Barclay thought that could count for the dragon entirely: surely, Ashton exuded power and danger, but he wasn’t monstrous. In a way, that Gorgon girl was a lot scarier: she looked at Barclay as if he were prey. Ashton was proud, yes, and cocky (then again, if dragons weren’t allowed to be arrogant…) but he didn’t regard Barclay with obvious hatred.
And, of course, Barclay kind enjoyed seeing Ashton working for him, lifting that gate. Barclay grinned in the dark. He’d made that happen. He had a dragon that could be persuaded to do his bidding. Even if it wasn’t a sure bet, it still was a powerful tool.
As soon as there was space, Barclay ducked under the gate and went for the lever, pulling it. It was old and rusty and it took some force, but it eventually budged, and then the chain started rolling up with clinking noises until it found its counterweight, and then the gate raised on its own accord.
Barclay nodded at Ashton: “Follow me. We’re close-by now.”
***
Ashton felt the gate catch on the chain and the weight lift from his hands and he let go, pulling away from it to turn in a half circle. He eyed it suspiciously, like it might not hold if he were to pass beneath it, but finally he did, following Barclay's instruction and darted through the passage, skidding to a halt behind the human. He turned his head, looking back at the gate and released another snort of tension, walking forward.
"Close?" Attention and curiosity returning to the direction they were moving, Ashton remained in his true form, glancing down at Barclay.
***
“There.”
They turned a corner, and there was a faint glow emanating from somewhere, a blueish-green tint that seemed to differ in intensity and brightness. The temperature seemed to drop, but that might be simply because they’d gone deep into the caverns now.
And there were rocks, covered in a glowing fungus. “Cool,” Barclay said, donning his gloves. “It’s like moss, but it’s corrupted by all the magic hanging in the air. It happens. Don’t touch it. It has a wicked bite.”
He drew nearer, looking intense as he crouched near a rock. He took a wooden box carved in runes out of his backpack, and used his thick gloves to scrape off some of the fungus. After picking off some of the fungus, he showed the glove to Ashton. Its surface was frozen. “See?”
***
Ashton looked at the fungus and gave an unimpressed snort as he watched Barclay scrape it off the rocks. “All of that for some glowing spore?” he scoffed, gesturing with one clawed hand as he sat on his haunches and coiled the long black tail around himself.
His metallic eyes glinted in the light cast off the fungus as Barclay showed him the glove and what it had done to it. Slightly more impressed, and definitely more curious, especially when the witch explained that there was magic in the air that gave the stuff its bite. He was a dragon, not some frail human, and he certainly was not afraid of a glow in the dark mushroom.
Disregarding Barclay’s warning, Ashton flicked his tail out to scrape some of the fungus off the rocks with the sharp edges of the blades that tipped the end of the appendage. Much to his dismay, and with enough startlement to cause the black to rise to his feet, the scales and spikes on his tail started to ice over. The dragon made a short alarmed sound and caught his own tail in his claws, wings lifting off his back.
Before he thought to use his fire to stop the freezing on his tail, his other ability, only used once or twice in his infancy in Iceland while feeding on the herds, engaged in a blanket of life sapping dragon magic. The fungus was living, albeit magically imbued, and Ashton’s element sapped the energy and kept it, making the fungi die and trickle their life into the adolescent beast of legend.
As he unwittingly absorbed the life energy of all the fungi touching the rocks in the corner, not including what Barclay had already scraped off, the blueish-green light went out with a puff of released spores. Ashton sneezed.
***
A smile curled to Barclay’s lips when Ashton got up and reacted in panic to his tail icing up, clutching tail between his claw. People always forget that plants could be dangerous. Sure, they couldn’t run or charge or attack, and Barclay would rather be faced with a plant rather than a wild and hungry tiger, but plants had their own way of attacking. They were immobile, but not as vulnerable as they seemed. Poison, thorns, sheer strength -- all of it worked to keep the fauna where it was supposed to be. Now, this fungus was especially vengeful, but…
And then Ashton’s second ability kicked in, one the witch hadn’t seen before. Barclay’s eyes widened, as he could practically hear the fungus being snuffed out. Ashton was draining the life out of them. The cave was suddenly a lot quieter, the glow all gone. Barclay facepalmed. “Goddamnit, Ashton…”
***
"What?" Ashton demanded, cradling his tail close to himself to inspect for damage, claws scraping ice off the tip. "It bit me!" Dragons weren't very good at pouting, but he scowled at the human in the darkness. A ripple of life energy ran over his scales in an opalescent glowing wave before being absorbed completely and he shivered in reaction.
***
“Yes, it did,” Barclay sighed. “As I told you it would. It’s magic, not something to play around with. I always thought dragons were supposed to be strong and wise.”
Barclay simply upended his wooden box, depositing the fungus back on the boulder. At least that was still alive and glowing. The fungus clutched back onto the rock, and seemed to grow a bit more fiercely, a bit more determinedly. “I’ll have to come back later. Maybe in a month or two, see if they’ve spread out again. At least you didn’t kill all of it.”
Barclay stood up straight again, giving Ashton a querying look. “That’s what I get for bringing a dragon to do a witch’s job. What was that thing you did, anyway?”
***
"Maybe the frail witch can lift his own gate next time, then," Ashton snapped, but was satisfied that his tail hadn't sustained any lasting damage and let the appendage go to lash at the air. He watched as Barclay emptied the fungus back onto the rock and glared at it suspiciously as it settled.
"I do not know," he informed the human, tipping his chin up and puffing his chest out, "I was able to do it from a young age. I killed an entire crop by mistake while hunting a bull. It left everything living dead. Dried and withered fields laid to waste. But I was energized and invigorated." The dragon raised a clawed hand and closed it into a fist, "I took the life from the fields and used it to grow."
Wings dropping back down, Ashton settled them against his back again and sat once more, "It is difficult to control."
***
“That is… a powerful ability,” Barclay said quietly. Life-draining. It was something he’d tried to master, something he’d was interested in. Diverting life energy, making things grow, bringing things to life… And here, Ashton could do that just naturally, without working for it. That was sort of frustrating. “Have you ever tried doing the reverse? Giving things life?”
Barclay gathered his things and walked back the caverns they used to get in. “And, seriously, if if you ever have a girlfriend, you should work on the triggerhappy thing. It’s never a good thing when the guy arrives too quickly.”
***
"No," Ashton moved to walk with him, taking slow steps so as not to pass him up. "Why would I do that?" He asked, sounding puzzled.
He was relieved to be leaving the fungus behind, but he still wondered what the witch had planned for the glowing stuff. Some spell to freeze off warts, perhaps. Ashton didn't have a scope to hazard a guess at what the possibilities even were for a human witch. Barclay was the first one he'd met.
"What do you mean, arrives?" Ashton turned his horned head to regard Barclay curiously. He knew what a girlfriend was, having been in classes with teenagers and overhearing gossip about who was with who. Triggerhappy was another colloquialism he was able to decipher. But putting the two together and saying it was bad to arrive too quickly was a whole other story.
***
“Because,” Barclay said, “sometimes you might not want to do damage. Sometime, you might want to give someone energy rather than simply siphoning it. I’m not saying your power is… bad. It’s very powerful, and the ease with which you do it is something to envy. But… there might be more to it. You might want to experiment.”
He grinned at Ashton’s curiosity. “Let’s… cross that bridge when we get there, yeah? When you’re an older and wiser dragon, and you actually take a fancy to a girl -- or a guy, no idea which way you swing -- I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll even demonstrate. With a banana.”
***
"I will not," Ashton said with a shake of his head. "I can't think of a single instance where I would want to give energy. Still..." It was an interesting thought, one that Ashton would like to try, later, in private. He didn't know how his element engaged. He was just simply able to tap into the life energy around him and take it. Giving it had never occurred to him.
They came upon the gate again and the black paused to regard it warily. Somehow he feared it would drop down on top of him, not trusting the contraption that held it up. But, not wanting to show his fear in front of the witch, he lifted his head and walked forward, trying not to scurry this time under the heavy metal.
On the other side, he stood up on his rear legs and reached for the base of the gate that was showing through the carved out tunnel entrance. He'd hold it while Barclay released the mechanism, and he waited for the witch to do so, prepared to take the weight of the gate. "If you know something, then I am plenty old enough to know it, too." He picked up their earlier conversation, silver eyes turning to regard the human, "And what are you going to show me with a banana?"
***
“How to swallow something big,” Barclay said, not missing a beat. He strolled easily under the gate, making a bit of a show of it. Not that he had any experience whatsoever -- other than solo stuff -- but he’d learned how to deflect this. Being a virgin wasn’t cool. Not really talking about it but suggesting stuff might’ve happened that didn’t? That worked pretty well. “Or how to put on a rubber. Look, are we really discussing your love life?”
***
"I don't have a... one of those." Ashton grunted as he heaved the gate down, catching the metal to keep it from slamming down or breaking the chain. Carefully, the dragon eased it to a rest against the floor of the chamber and stepped away from it, giving a snort and a small shake that caused his wings to lift. As he walked to rejoin Barclay, his form changed, blurred and warped back into the smaller, though still tall figure of Ashton in his human image, and he paused beside the witch with a casualness as though he had been transforming in front of human eyes for all of his life. It was just Barclay, the way the witch spoke to him and offered up information, gave Ashton such insights, that made the black comfortable with him.
"Do you?" He asked curiously, pulling his black coat back to reveal the flashlight, still whole and not shattered. Ashton clicked it on and the stream of light shone up to the ceiling.
***
Barclay grinned. “I have a love life with my left hand.” He chuckled at his joke, mostly because he knew how true it was. It’s not the kind of joke he would’ve made for anyone. He glanced at Ashton. “It is very rewarding.”
Barclay nodded at the flashlight, liking the light it gave. So Ashton’s magic didn’t cancel out technology. That was good to know. “Oh, and Ash? Thanks.” There might even have been a touch of sincerity in there.