Hi, all. It's been awhile, hasn't it? You can blame this piece on the arrival of the new DH3 movie; that's right kids, there's three movies out there. I definitely recommend giving it a watch, just keep an open mind about you seeing as even the most ridiculous concepts can make for good writing. Just look at Yahtzee Croshaw's Jam.

The particular idea that stuck in my mind when watching the movie is how the dragon (Drago) and the eggs supposedly drop out of the sky from the Dragon's Heaven, which was interesting in that if you remember from DH1, this is where dragons who are 'good' and help out man, all that jazz, go when they die. But Drago and the others came down from it? The thing that immediately came to mind is reincarnation, albeit a very physical form. Rather than the spirit coming back in a new body they're launched from heaven, one fully mature from the looks of it, to do whatever they have to do before hopefully going back (Not to mention previous canon states that dragons disappear if they do not manage to do what they need to do. No purgatory, no hell, just...gone.). It's a fun idea to play around with. Anyway, before my computer decides to crap out on me again, enjoy the story. Obviously Dragonheart is not mine, otherwise I would have done more than release a new movie.


Reincarnation:

"I was not born for death and yet I have died a thousand times, he thought. And now I am born again for these hard times."
― Kathryn Lasky, Frost Wolf

Though they were all but out of time, in the here and now, there were still the scant few moments floating in the abyss of space to hold onto. Though the ten were being drawn together, into the steadily hardening matter in their midst, they still attempted to say goodbye to the others that occupied the space with them, connecting with them in a way physical words never could. Saying goodbye, hopefully to come back someday, though preferably not too soon.

They knew these souls that had volunteered to come, they were friends, family, kin. They were to watch them; the rest would be small, weak, and volatile for the first few weeks, but they had the advantage of being born whole. Even now they felt faint twitches of a tail, the flicker of wings, and the hint of fire building in as of yet nonexistent lungs.

Unlike the rest, they would be whole outside, but not inside. None remembered the Other Side particularly well once they had crossed back. They hoped that with the formation of new memories, the need for the old would soon fade. There would be no replacing it, not really, but it was the next best thing. The rest drew near, convalescing into small, fragile little forms nestled in what would form into their arms. They could feel them begin to settle into the small, spheroid shapes as matter collected and formed into a much larger one around them. Their own egg, that would quicken the essence and body, and now drew them away from the weightlessness and safety that was Home. The passage of time, something that they had lived without for ages now, sped up, the warmth from the others falling away from them until the ten could feel nothing but themselves.

But as formless spirit became scaly flesh and flightworthy bone, their own connections grew more and more distant, until it was only the physical that connected them. Their newfound arms cradled the tiny eggs, both for their protection and in an instinctual attempt to seek out at least the thrum of the others, a sign that they were not alone. All that could be felt through the rough shells was the steady warmth of the fire contained in the tiny forms, but they clung as their forms became complete.

They, he, imagined more than felt the fall through space to the land, though he felt it when they began to cut through the skies above to the ground below. The air rushed past like water, far heavier than the weightlessness of space, and heat licked at the surface of the rock as the friction grew. Even so, he and the rest were not burned in the least, and the eventual stop was only a bump to them as the journey came to an abrupt end. By now he had begun to feel the difference between There and Here, wherever here was. His mind slipped slowly into sleep taxed by the process and the arrival, and finally he settled down entirely in the stone shell, the rest eggs firmly held in his arms, and his mind steadily falling into a quiet grey.

He was awoken later, though, with the faint scuffing of something approaching outside of the stone encasing. He had at first resisted the lure to wake, though when a tap, dulled but loud in the receding quiet, rang out, he immediately remembered the eggs. Small lives, new, not yet begun, he had to protect them, the shell was not sufficient. Pushing out with a wing, he broke through the suddenly fragile barrier (hadn't it always been?) and out into the open air. Though there is something about it that lacks, something that just barely flits in his memory, he leaps forth, letting the newfound freedom take him.