Temeraire (lungtienxiang) wrote in the100, @ 2015-07-22 15:14:00 |
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It was a dream he had had several times before, ever since he and Laurence had read the story about the Chinese Emperor who had swallowed a pearl and become a dragon, himself. He dreamt of standing beside Laurence on the deck of the Reliant. Laurence was almost as he remembered him from when he was first hatched. Tall and imposing, but with a friendly, gentlemanlike countenance, yellow hair drawn back into a short cue. His shirt, britches and neckcloth were of the finest make, and very clean and neat, he was pleased to see, and his green coat, with its gold buttons, he thought particularly fine. The memories, when for a few weeks at least he had been smaller than Laurence - or at least not much bigger - were the only reference he had of a human scale. Perhaps it was because he had been aboard ship for those first few weeks of his life, that he was at sea in the dream, as well. Except that in the dream, he stood on two legs, not four, with arms and hands held behind his back, just as Laurence himself was often wont to do. "A fair wind, my dear," Laurence said, smiling at him. Temeraire dreamed himself smiling back, though it was a wholly unfamiliar gesture for him to make. "Yes," he said, through a human mouth. "But ought we not be going home, soon? They will be expecting us any day now, I am sure." A frown creased Laurence's face, and he stepped back, much to Temeraire's confusion. "You must not return to England," he protested, in a much more direct way than was his usual manner. "I am afraid they will hang you." Temeraire laughed uneasily. It was a very strange thing to do, and he did not quite know why he did it. It was only Luarence being ridiculous that brought it forth. "Why," he said, "I should like to see them try." But of course, he realised, while the dream-Laurence shook his head, sadly, if he was a man now then they would treat him like a man. He was very small now, and could not fly, and there would be nothing to stop the Admiralty taking him, and executing him just as they had hangd the French traitor Choiseul - just as they would have hanged Laurence, if he hadn't made them see sense, in time. "Do not fear, my dear" Laurence said then, although of course Temeraire had not been afraid, nothing of the sort. "I will not let anyone do you harm." "Please don't take any offense, Laurence," Temeraire said, a little doubtfully. "But how on earth do you expect to manage, when I am a man, now, and cannot fly, or use the divine wind, or even carry my crew?" He suddenly wanted very much to be himself again. He thought he would give up all the jewels in the world, just to grow wings and fly. Without answering him, Laurnace climbed out onto the guardrail, and leaned out over the water. Temeraire started in alarm as, in the next moment, Laurance had taken on a great leap out into the open ocean. But then a great pair of wings unfurled, snapping open, and carried Laurence up into the air, no longer the yllow-haired man he had been, but a collossal, green-and-yellow beast of a breed Temeraire had never seen. "Laurence!" he cried out helplessly, trying to follow, but his feet were planted firmly on the deck, and his wingless arms would not lift him. He could only stand and watch, as the magnificent dragon soared above him, winging away and away, leaving him quite behind. There was a low roaring sound, and for a moment he thought the ship was under attack. Then he realised he was not on the Reliant, at all, had not even seen the ship these last eight years, and it had only been a dream. Except he still did not feel quite like himself. He felt very oddly like he was upside-down. Groggily he opened his eyes, and gasped in shock. It was pitch black, except for little coloured lights flashing just in front of his eyes. When he twisted his body, disoriented and flailing, he hit something tough, smooth and cold. He hammered at it in panic until it made a hissing sound and broke away from him, eerily slowly. Light flooded in, and the first thing he saw were a huge pair of human hands, waving in front of his eyes. Then he realised they were attached to him, that he was moving them, and a high-pitched strangled sound escaped him, like a man screaming. The hands moved towards him almost of their own volition, and felt what seemed to be a human face, eyes, nose, mouth - it was just as in the dream. He was human. This being realised, he went very still. He was sure he was awake, and yet he was still a man. Was it possible? Laurence had said it was not. And where was he? Awkwardly, with unpracticed, stiff movements, he sat up looked around. He looked for the camp, for Laurence, for his crew. Even one of the abrasive Russian dragons would have been a welcome sight. But he saw none of them. It was simply an empty forest. The roaring sound, he realised, was a waterfall not far away, very large and loud by his new perspective. The thing he was sitting in he had never seen the like of before. He touched it, tentatively, getting used to the new sensation of touch in his fingertips. It was very smooth. The nearest thing he could compare it to was the platinum of his breastplate. And that was nowhere to be seen either, he realised, with indignation. None of his things. None of his crew. Someone had snatched him away from Laurence, and somehow turned him into a man. Immediately he suspected Lung Tien Lien. It was just the sort of underhanded thing she would try, and she was a great scholar who would know how to do it, if it could be done. Since that was decided, the only thing he could do was try to get back to Laurence. Maybe Lung Zhao Lien would know a way to change him back again. It took a long time to clamber out of the thing. All his limbs were strange. Nothing was right. The muscles moved when he willed them, but he kept trying to move them further than they would go. It was very inconvenient to be so small, and have no claws, or wings. Once he worked out how to stand, and move properly, he would go to Lien and tell her just what he thought of her, just see if he would not. He fell rather ungracefully onto the forest floor, groaning, and got to his feet very shakily. His limbs ached, too, not just from disuse but as though he'd been in a battle, or caught in a gale, badly knocked about. Eventually he managed to get his feet under him, holding onto the metal cage for support. Looking up, he saw a steep, sloping mountainside behind him. The cage was lying at the bottom of it - he could see the path it had taken down the slope, bringing down plants and shale with it, as though it were a bomb someone had dropped from the air that had not gone off, but instead rolled very far away from its original landing place. He hoped he would not have to climb the mountain. Taking one step after another was about as much as he could manage, for now. And he was very hungry, he realised with an inward sigh. What he wouldn't give for Laurence's advice, now. Laurence would know how to get back to camp. And how to hunt with only bare arms and legs. Looking down at himself, standing, he was not wearing clothes. Only something around his neck that he could not quite twist his head around to see properly. Then he heard someone call, from somewhere in the trees. He couldn't hear the words, but he thought they spoke in English, not Russian. The sound was quite different. "Laurence?" he called out into the wood, hopefully. His voice lacked its usual deep resonance, and it made him stop and put a surprised hand to his mouth. |