Temeraire (lungtienxiang) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-02-23 16:49:00 |
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“I simply don’t think it’s a good idea,” Laurence said, uneasily. He had known it was only a matter of time before Temeraire heard of the dragon preserve, and from there it was inevitable that he’d want to visit, but Laurence had been hoping that that day wouldn’t come. He should have prepared Temeraire himself, he knew; he’d planned on it all those months ago when he’d borrowed the books about the Potterverse dragons from Dorian. But with Temeraire’s arrival, he’d been focused on happier news and happier decisions, much more interested in discussing a pavilion they could build than the dragons at the preserve. The dragons had disturbed Laurence greatly, and he’d spent most of his life thinking dragons no more intelligent than parrots, capable of speech and listening to commands as a dog might, but with no real soul of their own. Temeraire himself had shown Laurence otherwise, and he could only imagine how seeing those dragons might affect Temeraire. Laurence thought it was rather like seeing a preserve filled with zombies – he had the vocabulary and knowledge of such things now, though he’d lacked it on his arrival – though the drawings themselves were not undead and didn’t seem completely mindless. Still, it was clear that they were wild animals instead of anything like the sapient dragons of their own world. “The dragons there are not like you or Lily,” he said, stroking Temeraire’s muzzle. “More like… like sea serpents,” he ventured; even the bunyips had more intelligence than these, and Temeraire had once told Laurence that they spoke some sort of language, even if Temeraire still hadn’t managed to parse it out. “I understand,” Temeraire said, for the dozenth time, even though he did not, really. It was inconceivable to him that any dragon on any world could have no more understanding than a cow, no matter how many times it was explained. And he was certainly not going to sit about in the covert alone without first at least investigating whatever this strange place had to offer in terms of draconic company. The people here were very friendly, which was a novelty of its own, but Temeraire was a dragon rights activist, and if there were dragons being kept in a pen, somewhere, he was determined to know about it. Deep down he was convinced that the dragons would be able to communicate with him, no matter what Laurence said. After all, Laurence’s Durzagh was not very good, and they might after all speak a wholly different language altogether, or speak only with gesture and body language, an idea he had once read about in an old book concerning African tribes. Sipho had read it with him and thrown the thing away in disgust before they were even halfway through, dismissing it as nonsense, but that did not mean it might be true somewhere. But he did not like to distress Laurence, so he said; “We need not stay long. And I can go on my own, if you do not like to come.” Laurence rather suspected that Temeraire did not understand, but Laurence couldn’t blame him, not really. He himself hadn’t listened when people tried to warn him that the dragons wouldn’t be what they were expecting. Just about the only thing worse than the idea of Temeraire going to the dragon preserve was the idea of Temeraire going on his own; he didn’t think Temeraire would do something reckless without him, though that was certainly a possibility, but he did rather fear that Temeraire would be upset afterward, and he wanted to be there to comfort him if he were. “No, I’ll come with you,” he said, resigned. He was already wearing his flying jacket – thick, warm leather in the same bottle green as his aviator jacket had been, but cut in a more modern style; his tailor had outdone himself, and so he said, “You may put me up. I’ll direct you.” Temeraire lifted Laurence into his place and took off with a great launch of his hindquarters. It was strange, still, to fly up out of a place that looked so much like Loch Laggan, but surrounded by an unfamiliar landscape so that it was clearly not, at all, and of course the lack of dragon bodies in the courtyard and the grounds surrounding made the whole place look oddly colourless. There were also none of the improvements which Temeraire knew had been made to the real Loch Laggan in recent years, which meant that if it was Loch Laggan, it was as Laurence must remember it. Laurence had endeavoured to explain that such things happened occasionally, places and objects appearing just as suddenly as the people seemed to do. It was not a very satisfying explanation, as Temeraire always wanted to know why things happened, not only that they did, but the covert was at least more comfortable than a forest clearing, so he forebore. He did love flying over Vallo. Not only were there all kinds of strange and wonderful things to look at in the landscape below, but it was always different. He allowed himself to be distracted for a few minutes by Asgard, which was incredible to see from the air even if far too spikey, with its great towers and turrets, to be landed upon. He had yet to find anywhere safe in the city, either, as much as he would have liked to get a closer look at it. As much as Laurence enjoyed flying with Lan Xichen, there really was nothing better than flying with Temeraire, with his solid warmth under him. He was eager for having a ready harness again so that Temeraire might fly as freely as he wished with Laurence secure, and he’d have to have one fashioned for Lan Xichen as well. He tried to point out certain landscapes he recognized as they flew, though it wasn’t always easy with the way the forest shifted; some of the landmarks stayed where they were with the forest shifting around them, but it was still something Laurence hadn’t quite gotten used to. But Vallo wasn’t especially large, especially not as the dragon flew, and so it wasn’t long they came upon the preserve. Laurence frowned. “Perhaps we might land over there,” he said, pointing to a section a little away from the pens. “You’re a good deal larger than many of the dragons here, and it might agitate them if you were to approach from the air.” “Very well,” Temeraire said, although he would have liked to stay aloft a little longer to get a proper view of the place from above. Laurence had been here longer and knew best, so he found a large enough area of clear space to come down. “Perhaps you had better stay where you are, Laurence,” he said, when ordinarily he would have lifted him down. “If these dragons are as dangerous as you say.” “They have spent some time around humans, and so don’t usually attack so long as one keeps their distance.” He thought it even less likely that they’d be willing to attack Laurence if he were anywhere near Temeraire. He knew little of the behaviours of these dragons, but most animals would avoid a predator the size of Temeraire unless they were cornered. But Temeraire’s back was comfortable enough, and it was likely better for all involved if Temeraire felt confident of Laurence’s safety, so he said, “But I’ll stay here if you’d like.” He frowned in the direction of the pens, unconsciously stroking Temeraire’s neck. “Temeraire,” he started, though wasn’t sure how to continue. Anything more he could say would only be repetition, and perhaps Temeraire might not be as disturbed as Laurence thought he’d be. It could be that he was blowing the whole thing out of proportion: it had been several months since the last time he’d ventured near the dragons, and perhaps time had changed the memory into something worse than it was. Temeraire often spotted intelligence in creatures that Laurence otherwise would have overlooked in any case, and Laurence had only been around Norberta for a few moments. A small part of him wanted Temeraire to see something that he had missed, though he was forced to remind himself that if he had missed it, so too had everyone else who’d met these dragons, including those who worked closely with them. “Whenever you’re ready.” Made a little cautious by Laurence’s concern - but not much - Temeraire walked along the valley floor until they came in sight of one of the pens. He could hear distant roaring and the familiar sound of wings on the air. Before long a small green and gold dragon could be seen winging its way cautiously towards them, spines along its back raised as though in challenge. Temeraire snorted dismissively, and saw it slow as it realised what it was taking on. It came down at a respectful distance, bristling all over. “Hello,” Temeraire called, trying unsuccessfully to make himself small. The dragon hissed and hopped aggressively from foot to foot. “Really,” he muttered. If he was capable of rolling his eyes the way a man might, he would have. “A ridiculous display, as though you were anything up to my weight, which you are not.” He repeated himself in Durzagh, and in Chinese, but nothing seemed to have much of an effect. He took a step forward, one great foreclaw scraping in the dirt, and the beast began screeching and flapping, backwinging in the direction that it had come. Temeraire flinched. That was not a sound he had heard from a dragon before. Still, he wasn’t going to be deterred by a beast barely more than courier-weight. He followed the little creature over the crest of the hill, and found himself in a spot where he had a good view of the rest of the preserve. “Oh,” he said, looking around, as over a dozen draconic heads turned to look at him. Laurence’s lips pursed at the small herd of dragons that turned their attention toward them. Animals that might not normally attack on their own were more likely to attack if they were in a large group, especially if they thought they were being threatened. He had little doubt that Temeraire could subdue even so many, especially if they came at him with no strategy, but Laurence did not think it could be done without hurting or killing at least some of them, and he thought Temeraire would feel beastly afterward, even if he had no choice in the matter. “Temeraire, you might take a step or two back to show you don’t mean to get too close,” Laurence suggested, wondering to himself if that might not signal a sort of weakness instead. He suddenly wished he had had more experience with these particular dragons over the last few months. Temeraire snorted. He was certainly not going to back off from a lot of tiny dragons, even if they were all staring at him rather unnervingly. Instead, he raise himself to his full height and let out a deep, low roar, with just the very edge of the divine wind in it. Intelligent or not, he was still a very large, dominant male, and this demonstration was enough to send a couple of the more skitterish dragons flying. “There is enough of that,” he said, flatly, before there could be any more posturing. “If any of you should like to approach politely, you may.” He shook out his tail and sat back on his haunches. A chittering red and gold beast, with a little more nerve and perhaps a little less sense than the rest, came up hopping on the ground between short wingbeats, a strange manouver. It chittered at him, more like a bird noise than any dragon he had ever heard. “Hello,” Temeraire tried. “I am Temeraire. Do you have a name?” The creature squawked and then, unexpectedly, started winding its body around Temeraire’s forelegs, like a cat wanting to be petted. Laurence probably should have known better than to ask Temeraire to back down from a threat, even the only creatures who were at any real risk were the other dragons. He covered his ears when he felt Temeraire’s lung’s filling, and dropped them again once the vestiges of it faded away. The gold and red dragon was oddly endearing, once Laurence could get past the idea that it should have some form of greater intelligence. He’d had some months to adjust to the idea that dragons could also just be animals, and if he looked at it that way, then this particular one seemed friendly enough. He’d not yet seen any evidence of sapience in his second encounter with these dragons; he wondered if Temeraire had. “I think he wishes to be your friend,” Laurence said, gently. Temeraire felt uncomfortable in a way that was difficult to put into words. The little dragon reminded him of Volly, although at least Volly could say a few words, and could say his name and ask for cows, at minimum. Seeing the dragon not immediately torn to pieces, some of its fellows began approaching also. “They do seem… friendly,” he said, not quite sure it was the right word. He let the dragons come and rub their heads up against his scales, and he tried to imitate the noises they made; there was very little reaction, so either he could not make the sounds properly or they really did not mean anything. Disappointment, despite all Laurence’s warnings, threatened to sour his mood considerably. One of the braver dragons hopped with a push of its wing beats onto his back. Temeraire was perfectly used to this, and had carried much heavier burdens even in the air; he barely felt it, but he was highly conscious of Laurence’s safety as he would never have been if it were Volly or Moncy or even Iskierka up there. He put his head around quickly and made a low rumbling noise in the back of his throat, a warning. The dragon at least seemed to understand this, as it backed off immediately, giving Laurence a wide berth, but then, perhaps knowing Temeraire meant it no real harm, came to tuck its body under the warm crook of his hind legs as though it were a hatchling. “Oh dear,” Temeraire said aloud. Laurence hadn’t been terribly concerned over his own safety when the dragon had flown up onto Temeraire’s back. His hand had fallen, automatically, to his pistol, but he trusted that Temeraire wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and besides, his pistol was loaded with Brigitte’s specialty bullets, the ones that contained something rather like the Divine Wind. He was sure he could fire it above the beasts’ head and scare it off before it came near enough to cause him any damage. He was a little surprised by Temeraire’s automatic reaction though. If his tone of voice hadn’t been enough to tell Laurence that Temeraire was unsettled by this interaction, then that certainly would have been. “We don’t have to remain if you don’t wish to, dear heart,” Laurence said, stroking Temeraire’s neck. “You can always come back another day if you feel more up for it, or you might not.” Temeraire was a little despondent, but he did not want to leave before he had made every effort. “Perhaps I might be able to understand them,” he said, with more confidence than he really felt. “If I only listen a little more.” But, he realised as he observed and tried to engage the dragons in conversation, the chittering, huffing sounds they made were like nothing more than animal noises. He was not disturbed in the same way Laurence had been, but it did make him feel inexpressibly lonely. He sighed. “You are right, Laurence,” he said, and turned to go. “They are not at all like our friends at home, after all.” He had only just launched himself into the air, however, when he realised he had not yet seen the last of the little beasts. A couple were flying alongside, brushing their wingtips along his flanks. Two of the smallest had perched themselves at the base of his tail. “Oh, be off,” he muttered, but they paid no more attention to him than they had before. He tried a twisting manoeuvre - very carefully, since Laurence was still only clipped onto his breastplate - but it only succeeded in shaking the smaller dragons off for a few seconds before they returned, following him out of the preserve like a string of airborne ducklings. He muttered a word under his breath which he had learned from the most badmouthed of his former crew, and would never have thought to use in polite company. “What am I to do?” he asked Laurence, hovering uncertainly in the air. “I do not like to roar at them; I might hurt them without meaning to, and I do not think they know how irritating they are being.” Laurence clung a little tighter to the chain of Temeraire’s breastplate. They weren’t in battle, and so he had little doubt that Temeraire would be able to catch him if he did fall, but that was not an assumption he was particularly eager to test, and he was glad, at least, that Temeraire wasn’t flying as hard as he might. “Oh dear.” Laurence frowned at the little dragons – or, at least, the dragons that were smaller than Temeraire: they were still many times the size of a man. “I suppose you might try to outfly them,” Laurence said uncertainly, not quite sure how far their endurance or their attention would actually last. He didn’t think he wanted to be up here for hours trying to shake them loose. “Best not lead them back to the covert, unless you’d welcome their visits.” He’d heard that was common enough among dogs and cats at least, that once they’d been led somewhere that seemed friendly they’d often visit on their own accord. “If you’ll give me but a moment, I’ll secure myself a little better so that you might fly harder.” Temeraire snorted distastefully, although - he couldn’t help thinking - it might be nice to have some dragon company at the covert occasionally, even if it was very small and incapable of anything resembling conversation. Laurence was right, of course, it wouldn’t do to have the dragons follow them all the way to the lake, no doubt losing some along the way to terrorise the populace. On the other hand he wasn’t sure how he was to shake them. “Are you quite ready, Laurence?” he asked, gathering breath and ready to put on all speed. As soon as Laurence confirmed he was quite secure, Temeraire spun around and let out a loud but careful roar, aimed over the heads of the nuisance dragons. Then he twisted himself about to rid himself of the creature attempting to ride on his tail, and sped up and away. He loved to fly fast, so long as he did not have to do it for days at a time, but his enjoyment in the flight home was tempered by constant changes of direction and checks behind to ensure they weren't being followed. He came down in the courtyard of the covert and sank immediately into a depressed sort of heap, scratching his talons against the stone so hard that he left noticeable marks. There really was nothing as exhilarating as flying with Temeraire when he was free to fly as hard as he wanted, though Laurence regretted that they didn’t often have the opportunity to do it for the sheer pleasure of the thing. He kept a lookout behind them, and once he was sure they’d lost the other dragons, he gave Temeraire’s shoulder a light pat. He climbed down from Temeraire’s back once they landed and made his way to his muzzle. “I’m sorry that it wasn’t what you’d hoped,” Laurence said gently. “I know it must be lonely being the only dragon of your kind here.” It wasn’t the first time Temeraire had been separated by the other dragons by the virtue of his breed, or even by virtue of his intelligence, but he’d never wanted for conversation before and Laurence couldn’t imagine how lonely that must have been. “But perhaps with time, some of your friends from home will come, too.” Temeraire nuzzled at Laurence, for comfort, and felt a little better. “I will be all right, Laurence,” he promised. “After all, you have been here, alone, for so long. And I have you, so it is nothing so bad.” He made an attempt at cheering himself. “I might go back sometime and see if they will learn letters, or flags. I will have to think about how it can be done.” He shook himself, determined not to be brought low. “I think I will go swimming. Will you come?” "Yes, and I've no intention of leaving you, my dear." He hoped, at least. Such things weren't always controllable in this place, but he hoped he'd not leave, not now that Temeraire were here with him. He stroked Temeraire's muzzle. He privately didn't think there was much chance of teaching the dragons letters, though perhaps some flag signals might be possible, in the same way one might train any other animal with certain signals, but he didn't want to bring Temeraire's spirit down further, so he he kept that opinion to himself. "Of course I'll come," he said. "I'll go and fetch some linens as well, if you would like a bath as well as a swim." And he thought, maybe, he might drop a message to one of Vallo's cooks, perhaps Ignis, about preparing Temeraire something special tonight, if anything could be prepared with such short notice. Temeraire knew it was a considerable task for Laurence to wash him on his own, without any of the crew to help, but that didn’t make it an easy offer to refuse. Besides, he would help by going under the water as much as he got, to sluice off the worst of the dust. “Thank you Laurence,” he said, with sincere feeling. “I would like that very much.” |