Thread: Return to the Caverns WHO: Barclay and Ashton WHEN: Sunday the 1nd of July WHERE: Beneath the castle
Ashton remembered this place and its glowy mushrooms that he and Barclay had come down to harvest some time ago. It felt like ages had passed, and he no longer came down here because he owed the witch any favors, but because he was his friend. One of his only friends anymore. Ashton occasionally wondered if he should try others out, other friends, but he always came back to that night he'd hurt Trent, the following day when Annabelle had slapped him, and decided against it.
Friends of a dragon would just be under threat constantly and once they knew his true self, they'd withdraw, anyway. It was better to just keep the ones he had now, and keep them close. Barclay, despite his sometimes abrasive ways that intentionally hit on Ashton's sensibilities and pride, was one who had proven himself not just an ally, but a real friend. Between healing Dragonslayer injuries, teaching him how to blend with humans, being there on the night he'd brought Trent back and being there for him still, even to go to Iceland for a week, Ashton had gotten comfortable with the idea of his friend, his witch, being around for the long haul.
They had come a long way, and now they had almost come full circle, back down into the large cavern underneath the castle. Ashton stepped out into it and heard the sound of his footsteps carry and echo back from the walls and ceiling far above. Not much had changed down here, he thought, shining his flashlight around the space. It was nice to know that some things remained the same.
"You never told me what you were going to make with the spores," he pointed out, looking up at the high ceiling of the cavern before glancing over at Barclay.
---
Last time they had been down here, it had been the cusp of winter. Now, it was summer, the sun was out, rays heating up the cliffs, but down here, it was still chilly, damp and dark. There were echoes, but they were their echoes. They were alone. Just like last time.
Unlike last time, Barclay hadn’t had to use any leverage to get Ashton to come down here. Instead of bribing and cajoling the dragon, he’d simply asked, and Ashton had said yes. There had been no favors called in, nor had there been any threats made. Being down here, Barclay realized how much their relationship had changed. For the better. They were friends now, and that was the best thing they could be.
Yes.
“The spores will help with any mind-expanding spells,” Barclay said. “I’m working on something that’s supposed to give you and out of body experience, and make you assume the shape of your totem animal.” Barclay gave Ashton a surmising look. “I think your totem animal might be a human. Anyway, there’s the gate. Do your thing.”
---
Always suspicious that the witch was mocking him, Ashton eyed Barclay in the dim light, unable to really see his expression clearly. No matter. Ashton had grown accustomed, almost, to shrugging off Barclay’s remarks and on a rare occasion, he even returned them. Humor was something the dragon struggled with.
The gate looked the same as they had left it. Ashton wondered what this place was even used for in the past, why it had to be locked like this. Were they keeping something out or keeping something in? Either way, the witch and the dragon had come through without any harm, aside from a frozen tail, and Ashton was expecting the same results. He’d just be sure to leave the spores alone this time.
Approaching the gate, Ashton allowed his form to change. It had gotten easier and easier to hold his human shape as the months progressed and, though he didn’t know how he felt about it, he spent more time in human form than dragon. For now, it was not a big concern. Living here was only temporary. What he would do once he completed his schooling at St. Margaret’s, Ashton didn’t know, but if he was ready, then Blake would die. Beyond that he hadn’t considered yet.
Black claws closed around the bottom of the grate and there was a glow from the dragon’s throat that illuminated the area with soft warm light. Wings held suspended and slightly bent, the dragon hefted the metal with a pull, claws digging into the stone floor of the tunnel for purchase as the gate lifted. Ashton held the heavy metal still and looked back to track the location of his witch, a low rumble coming from him.
“What is your totem animal?” he wondered.
---
Barclay assumed the gate was to keep trespassers out. This way, with the gate down, sneakers-about couldn’t enter the castle through the caverns underneath. Barclay knew only of this entrance, but given the windy nature of the caves and caverns in the cliffs, he assumed there were more, and that they were all protected by gates like this one.
Barclay watched Ashton morph, his the light of his lantern bouncing off the black scales of the dragon. Even in this darkness, it still looked impressive. Barclay didn’t spend much time in the presence of Celebrimbor, because while the dragon was still Ashton, he preferred the Ashton he could curl up against while watching a movie. Celebrimbor was a formidable ally, but Ashton was his friend.
Barclay went under the gates, doing it coolly and collectively. He knew Celebrimbor’s strength, and he knew there was nothing to worry about. Once he was on the other side of the gate, he used the wrench to keep the gate in place, so that Ashton could follow him. In answer to the question, Barclay said: “I don’t know. Some sort of… squirrely mammal, most likely. An otter. Or maybe I’ll just be a leaf. I don’t know. This way,” he said, pointing with his flashlight.
---
Ashton felt the gate catch and he slowly removed his hold. Like last time, he was a bit nervous going under it without holding it in place himself, but he didn't rush this time. Stepping through on all fours, the dragon filled the tunnel more than he had before, having grown in the time that passed.
"A prey animal?" Ashton questioned, frowning at the idea. He eyed the human critically, trying to imagine what animal Barclay might manifest as while he walked behind him. "You should be an owl." Ashton nodded, rather liking that image because owls had great sight, and so did his witch. They could fly, and it meant they could fly together. "Predator and very good at it. You could live in the trees. You should not turn into a leaf," he snorted at the idea, hot air leaving his nostrils.
On his inhale, Ashton caught a scent from further ahead and he paused, having been about to transform back to his human self. This scent was strange and foreign, though he had caught brief whiffs of it during his time in the dungeons. "There is another creature in here," he informed Barclay, choosing to remain in his true form so that he might better defend his witch, should the need arise.
---
“An owl,” Barclay said, nodding. He liked that idea. Owls were a symbol of wisdom, and they were kind of cool. Just like he thought he was kind of cool. His favorite Greek goddess had an owl for a symbol. “I like owl. Well, I’ll guess we’ll see when we do the spell. Maybe I’ll be an owl. When I do it, and it goes well, want me to do it for you, too?”
Barclay paused, stilling when the dragon warned him. For a moment, he listened it intently. He couldn’t hear a sound, except for the drips of water running down the cool stone. No sign of anything else, but he didn’t doubt Ashton. The dragon was a predator and had a keen sense of smell. “What?” Barclay said. “What is it?”
---
Considering this, Ashton nodded his head like he might have in human form, “Yes. I would like to see you as an owl. Or a badger.” There was a small rumble of amusement that came from the dragon. “I will still be a dragon, of course.” Because he did not like the idea of something that indicated he was human on the inside. “But I will do it.” He’d never been afraid of trying Barclay’s concoctions, including one of their first meetings where he drank a potion without hesitation.
Ashton listened for another moment, having gone completely still, then he narrowed his eyes and shivered, scales rippling. “I don’t know. It went away.” He sniffed, lifting his head a little proudly as though he had scared it off. Perhaps the scent of a dragon frightened whatever it was.
Satisfied that they were alone again, Ashton morphed back into the tall Icelandic boy, taking his flashlight out of his pocket now that the tunnel was darker without the light of dragonfire.
---
Barclay grinned. “Badgers are tough sons of bitches. There’s these honey badgers, and they beat up cobras and whatever. They really just don’t care about anything.” He wisely shut up when Ashton declared he’d still be a dragon. The way the potion worked, it should always give you a different shape than the one you were in. Otherwise, it would be no fun at all.
Barclay fell into step besides the now-human Ashton, commenting: “It must’ve been afraid of your formidable and magnificent appearance.” He said it without a trace of irony. However, since he was Barclay, he added: “Or your smell.”
Around another corner, Barclay could already see the faint glow of the moss. Good. When he turned the corner, Barclay could see that the moss had spread again. Though it wasn’t as plentiful as it had been before Ashton had snuffed out about the entire colony, it looked to be thriving. “Okay,” Barclay said as he switched out his flashlight and pocketed it. He put on his gloves. “You wanna help gather some?”
---
Even without the sarcastic tone, Ashton cast a look at Barclay that was at once irritated and longsuffering with a touch of his inner affection for the witch. He couldn’t be angry for long when Barclay mocked him, as much as it might ruffle his feathers in the moment. He certainly wasn’t expecting or accustomed to sincerity. Ashton was learning that the witch didn’t mock him because he wanted to offend him, but that it fell under the line of playful teasing, something the dragon was taking a while to get used to, much less return.
“It was probably my scent,” he confirmed in a matter of fact tone, nodding once more.
The glow of the moss colony caught his attention soon after and Ashton walked beside Barclay with his long steady strides keeping time with the witch’s shorter ones as they approached. However, as the two boys drew near, Ashton started to hang back, eyeing the spores with distrust as he remembered the last time he’d encountered them and gotten a cold bite on his tail. Still, though cautious, Ashton wasn’t going to show any fear in the face of some plant, and he stepped up to stand beside Barclay again, putting his own flashlight down on a rock with the light off. With both flashlights off, the boys were cast in a blue glow that was eerie and beautiful.
“I will help,” he nodded, looking over at Barclay with his face cast in blue and shadows. “Only this time I won’t kill them.” Last time had been something of an embarrassment for him with his element reacting wildly and defensively against the moss.
---
"Here," Barclay said, digging up a pair of sturdy garden gloves from his pack. They were beat up and had a faded green colour. He handed them to Ashton and then found another pair - this one a red faded to pink - for himself. What followed was a square wooden box where they could gather the spores in.
"I don't need much," Barclay said. "Just a few handsful. Watch these things, though - they're wily and they have a nasty bite. As I'm sure you remember."
Barclay set to work, using his deft fingers to peel off the glowing moss at the root. He could feel the fabric of the gloves tightening up when they were being frozen over. Potent stuff. "That thing you smelled," Barclay said, "what was it?"
---
"I remember," Ashton muttered, pulling the gloves on, but waiting to observe Barclay doing it before he tried.
"I don't know. I could hear its breath and it did not have a scent like anything I've smelled before." Stepping beside Barclay and crouching down to gather his own moss, Ashton continued, "I smelled it when I was in detention, too. I believe it lives under the castle and in the dungeons. But it wasn't here last time we were in this area."
Scowling when the moss froze his gloves and chilled his fingers, Ashton ignored the cold and examined it more closely, less jumpy this time and more trusting. Looking up at Barclay, Ashton offered the moss to be put into the box.
---
“Here,” Barclay said. He nudged the box towards Ashton, the lid already open. Inside, there was the glow already, a handful of spores lining the inside. Barclay wondered how long it would retain the glow after it had been removed from the rocks it lived on. The wood was technically organic, so maybe it would just cling to it there.
“I can’t really think of anything that would live down here,” Barclay said, using his fingernails to get under another coat of spores. “You know, other than bats. But then you’d have to hear the wings. Maybe it’s the Groundskeeper. He’s kind of crusty, and he’d enjoy this kind of environment.”
---
The lid to the box open, Ashton carefully set the moss down inside and watched it crystalize on the wood grains, gripping it. Bits were stuck to his gloves, and he cautiously encouraged it to let go by easing it off slowly. The dragon discovered that not using forced ensured the moss didn’t bite as hard with its potent chill, as though it was assured it wasn’t being attacked. Interesting.
The Groundskeeper. Ashton snorted. He hadn’t had a great first meeting with the man, seeing as it was during his detention to clean up ice wight corpses and Ashton had been uncooperative at best then, too. Crusty was a good word to describe him, though, and Ashton gave Barclay an amused look, almost a smile.
“We could hunt it,” he suggested. If they could locate it with his senses and Barclay could identify it by sight, they could solve the mystery. It appealed to Ashton to want to get the answers and to know things. But, if it was dangerous, he thought to himself with a more considerate look at the witch, then he wouldn’t want Barclay to be at risk to be hurt.
Ashton watched how Barclay used his fingernails through the gloves, then he copied him for another section, hissing when the cold bit even through the gloves.
---
“Hunt it?” Barclay said, raising an eyebrow at Ashton. It could be something exciting, something new, but, considering their environment, it could also be something very dangerous. This school was a weird place, and traipsing about in dark places around here could very well lead to something lethal. Sure, they had Celebrimbor, but even he wasn’t invulnerable.
However, the idea that there was something interesting snorting around also appealed to Barclay. Maybe it was something rare and magical. “We’d have to plan it,” he said. “Figure out what’s going around before we attack it. I don’t want to bite off more than we can chew, you know?”
Barclay added another handful of spores to the box, brushing the remaining specks off his gloves. “Just one more load, then we’re done,” Barclay said. He didn’t want the box to become too full. He didn’t want it to accidentally open in his bag or or back home. He gave Ashton a look, not taking the gloves off just yet. “Hey, do you ever want me to make something for you?”
---
“How will we know what it is if we can’t find it first?” Ashton wanted to know, frowning. Maybe they could look for signs in the caverns, claw marks, droppings, things like that. Ashton had a perfect faith that Barclay would be able to identify whatever it was.
Depositing his next careful handful into the box, Ashton sat back on his heels and paused to look at Barclay again, tilting his head to the side in question. “What do you mean?”
---
“It should leave traces,” Barclay said. “We could look for signs in the caverns, maybe there’s foot prints or dropping or shed hair and stuff. Or shed skin.” Barclay remembered the basilisks on the field trip. “And then, I should be able to cast a little spell that can identify it like that.” He tried to snap his fingers, but the gloves hampered him.
He didn’t take them off just yet, instead shutting the box. “We have enough.” Barclay rose to his feet, creating some distance between himself and the moss. He inspected his gloves, meanwhile explaining: “I mean, people ask me to make stuff for them all the time. To help them with whatever. If you want that, just tell me.” He began patting himself down, not wanting to bring any of the moss with him. “C’mere,” he said. “Let me pat you down too.”
---
"Yes," Ashton nodded. "That is our plan." And it was a solid plan, something for a future date that the dragon was looking forward to. It wasn't often he was able to team up with his witch like they were doing now, and he liked the idea of doing it again, especially to solve the mystery.
When Barclay said they had enough, Ashton stopped and stood up as well, looking up at the cave wall at how the rest of the colony of moss was seeming to thrive just fine without the parts they had taken. Ashton didn't trust that the plant itself wasn't malicious and sentient.
Turning to frown at Barclay as he explained what he meant, Ashton stepped closer as instructed. "If there was something I needed that you could make, you would just tell me." He said with a nod, moving in close enough to Barclay to flick some flecks of dust or spiderwebs from the old passage they had used out the other boy's hair. Ashton had a small smile, a comfortable one as he did so, grown familiar with Barclay and his scent and the feel of him.
---
Barclay used his gloves to pat down Ashton's clothes, only realising halfway that this might not be necessary. If the dragon assumed his natural shape, maybe the fungus would disappear. Then again, it might also become part of his own body. Barclay did not know how that worked. "Your clothes," Barclay asked, "do you have to wash them?"
The patdown continued, though Barclay realized he was doing it more because he might be enjoying it a little than for anyone's benefit. As such, he carefully avoided putting his hands on Ashton's lower back or the front of his abdomen.
"No," Barclay said, "I mean, something that I wouldn't think of. I'm not in your head, and maybe you need something I haven't thought of."
---
“Wash them?” Ashton was puzzled by the question. “Yes, of course.” He lifted his arms out from his sides and looked down to see what it might be that Barclay was trying to dust off of him, assuming maybe some of the spores might be attached. A flare of his nostrils as he inhaled brought the known scent of his witch and the cave with its moss, but Ashton didn’t see any on his person. Curious, he looked at Barclay’s face as the patdown continued, watching him.
“Like what?” Not even knowing the possibilities or the full scope of Barclay’s skills, except that it was extensive, Ashton didn’t have even an idea of what he might ask his friend to make for him. All of his needs were met by the school or by Barclay himself already. Except…
“Can you make something that cures an addiction to gold?”
---
Barclay drew away from Ashton, only a slight coloration on his cheeks. “It’s just… I mean, when you become a dragon, the clothes disappear inside of you, right? But you can also take them off. I mean, I’ve seen you take your shirt off. So they’re also… not a part of you. But they’re also not a glamor. Really, it’s sort of confusing how they work.”
Barclay took off his gloves and put them in his bag. Then, he looked for something and found it, taking out two rubber bands. He was considering Ashton’s question. “Well, not that specifically,” he said, winding the two rubber bands around the box, “but I can probably make you something that can take the edge off. Make your need for it less… like, acute. A reverse desire thing or something. I could try.”
Barclay bit his lip and then looked at Ashton as he put the box in his bag. “How’s that going?”
---
“I don’t… know how it works,” Ashton admitted. He ran his hands down his abdomen, dusting his shirt off, and frowned at the fabric. Just like how he could take his cellphone into the transformation with him and it come out whole, he didn’t know what became of his clothes, only that they were there again when he changed back. Perhaps it was something his parents would have taught him about dragon magic, and the thought made Ashton let out a huff of breath, quickly dismissing the feeling of being less because he didn’t have proper teachers. He was doing fine. Barclay had said so.
He removed his gloves and offered them back to Barclay, sighing to hear the witch say he couldn’t cure it, but only take the edge off. Maybe that would help. It was still agonizing to repeatedly be teased with gold and have it taken away, and more often than not, Dallas had had to talk him down when they worked on it. But Ashton didn’t want to take an easier road. He wanted to fix his problem completely. “Perhaps one day I will ask for that, then.”
At the last question, Ashton tensed a bit and looked away from the human, down the tunnel. “How is what going?” he mumbled, not wanting to admit he still wasn’t strong enough.
---
Barclay was always amazed at how much raw magic Ashton had inside him. He already had trouble with glamours, but transformations like Ashton’s were a step above and beyond that. Even the most experienced witches had trouble with morphing, because it required you to rearrange your body ship. The human mind was easily tricked, seeing things that weren’t there or not seeing things that were there, but the human body? It had to listen to the laws of nature. Everything Ashton did in his human form was defying that, twisting those laws to fit his own needs.
It was amazing.
Barclay gave a small smile when Ashton denied his offer to help him. “Proud dragon,” he said, almost fondly. He accepted the gloves, put them away, and began walking away, back to the exit. “You know, your… therapy. Humans have those too, you know. They even go to special facilities for them. Rehab. Some of them, they go there for over a year, because they’re not able to function normally at all.”
---
Ashton followed Barclay, focusing ahead of them to check for sound or scent of the creature, and listened to Barclay talk about humans having to go through therapy, too. He was surprised to hear this, especially that they sometimes had to go for over a year. A year for a human was a very long time, Ashton knew. For a dragon it was a small moment, but humans valued even their seconds. That a human, who he was learning so much about, could have a problem like his and need that kind of help made the dragon very curious.
"Humans can become addicted to things for that long? Not gold...?" Ashton wasn't really sure about the gold, but he hadn't heard anything contradicting it, either. Absently, he stroked his rings with his thumb, turning the ancient gold around his index finger.
---
“No, not gold,” Barclay said. Maybe he’d been exaggerating with his year-thing, but rehab could take quite a while. “It’s more… liquor and drugs, people get addicted to that. Painkillers and other medicines. Gaming. Things that make you fell good, but that are bad for you and make you… like, not able to function well in society. There’s lots of programs for them.”
As they left the cavern, Barclay flicked on his flashlight again. “On tv, it’s always pretty bad. Like, for these people, it’s like having to stop eating. There’s that hunger or craving, because mentally or physically, you can’t go without it.” Barclay looked up at Ashton. nodding at him. “It’s a struggle.”
---
Ashton never would have thought that there would be a human - or multiple humans, from the sound of things - who might know how it felt for him, who knew what the struggle was. Barclay's words on not being able to function well, the things that made you feel good but were bad for you, caused the dragon to stop the rush of followup questions that came to his mind. He was well aware he had a problem and that it was bad, they both were. Ashton was afraid to get into it more because it meant he'd have to admit he'd gone to Dallas for help, and he didn't want Barclay to know. Not yet. He would tell him when he started to feel like he was making actual progress to show for it.
Instead, Ashton transformed on his next stride forward and behind Barclay was Celebrimbor instead of the Icelandic boy, walking alongside him with his head down to keep the crest of horns from scraping along the ceiling. They came upon the gate and Ashton did his part, holding it so it could be released by the mechanism and Barclay could pass safely through to the other side, and then he lowered it carefully to the ground.
Shaking out his wings to unfold them in the large cavern on the other side, Ashton shuddered and refolded them, humming softly. "I like doing this," he shared with Barclay, turning silver eyes onto his witch and bringing his nose closer to Barclay to touch his side with the hard black scales. "I like doing these things with you."
---
Barclay didn’t need to look to know that Ashton had changed. Telltale sounds where the scrape of claws on the cavern floor, the rumbling of heavy feet as Ashton moved forward. There was the swishing of Ashton’s long tail and just the sheer feeling of a large presence besides him. He grinned -- it was kind of funny that the presence of a big fucking black dragon was a comforting thing to the witch these days.
Barclay had to correct his stride when Ashton’s snout touched him, but his grin widened nevertheless. He had no idea whether these feelings were platonic or romantic, but he didn’t care right now. His hand reached out, patting the strong scales of the dragon. “I like you too.”