My head rests on the bruised skin of the house. Winded. Exhausted.
The emotional turmoil and a carcass of the destruction. They are all that adorns my peripherals.
The cyclone spared no victims this time. No survivors. No mercy.
Nothing could escape its lust for our individual breaking points in that room.
It just was.
And we were hit.
Hard.
Then, as soon as it started in its temporary reign, it left the room in a flurry. Indifferent of all responsibility.
Happy, with the malice it brought upon our very humanity.
With one big whack to the head.
So then only did the atmosphere calm, and the pheromones of regret it secretes slink into the pit of my heart. Twisting its strings. As if it was some sort of marionette.
Guess the atmosphere has a bit of… leeway treating it that way.
I sink down my form along the naked foundations of Jacob's sanctuary.
Beat, practically dead.
My paws defeatedly find their way to my sides.
And with that, one high and mighty sigh seeps from my maw. I am lucky that I hadn't learnt to breathe fire yet. Otherwise, I may have inadvertently killed Jacob then and there.
And I wouldn't want that, now would I?
The enormous black ovals that I call my eyes stare down at my hind legs. I'd be willing to wager that if another dragon came by, it'd send me to their draconic version of a reconditioning session.
So un-dragonlike.
I groan again.
I couldn't possibly skim on the number of things that had happened today, even if I tried.
Too many to comprehend, too many to count.
And to think that such a destructive cyclone emerged from them…
I'd rather not think or skim over it for now.
A good, long gaze into nothingness was all it took before my eyes find their way to the ceiling.
Brown. Drab. Worn. Dull.
Always the same.
Never changing.
I look forward, accessing the scene – partially feeling a bit more useless than usual.
What was once the mighty, vengeful Jacob – now, a groaning, drained corpse.
He has had enough for today, I can tell you that much.
I think I had hit a weak spot in his chainmail; his daughter.
Yeah…
Remind me never to do that again, please.
I look beyond the rubble.
By the foot of a worn bed, therein lies a dog-tired Lisa. Whereas my battle was the battle for air, her battle was the battle for both her father's sanity and her own.
Comparing my battle to hers would be useless.
There exists incredibly little leverage between the two. Why?
Because she would win by a gods-damned landslide.
Or rather – poor choice of wording here – lose it. And, speaking of the devil…
Lisa is wheezing her stamina away – her hands rest flaccidly on the ground.
And yeah.
With the expression she has taken a liking to show, I think it is safe to say that she's had enough for today too.
Her head is craning to the side a little bit, refusing to look to her father.
Getting up and subsequently trying to swing the hardest hit you could have ever swung, all the while being in that kind of condition? One big fat no-no.
I may have been a doctor for a temporary while, but even I know that that couldn't be good for you
The handicap would be only made even more shoddy if the intention was to hit someone out stone cold.
Her body just couldn't accept it – couldn't possibly afford let her off that easily; it wouldn't be nearly as invigorating.
But hey, if the intention was to milk as much tears as emotionally stretchable, then it is fair game for anybody. Even personified abstracts!
I look more closely at her, trying to decipher her emotions.
For a moment, I could have sworn that I saw Helvegr itself reflecting off her eyes.
Gods. Guilt must weight like an anvil on her conscience right now.
Hurting her one and only relative – her only father for that matter. An action like that shouldn't bode well with anybody.
So, why Lisa?
Why protect me? Just another stupid dragon? Why protect a stranger who had just harassed you to high Hel emotionally? Why protect a stranger that had ventured so needlessly far into personal matters; touching on things that shouldn't be touched?
Why?
I stare at her longingly. For an answer.
Only,
She keeps quiet. Her mouth sealed.
She doesn't answer.
She doesn't deliver.
She just sits there. Wheezing, coughing. Refusing to look at anybody in the room. With closed eyes.
Her soul is drifting blissfully in another plane of existence, doing everything in its power to avoid thinking about what it did.
Unfortunately, her body is doing everything in its might for her soul to do otherwise. Any longer on the floor, and she would have died.
So.
A groaning wheeze. A deafening creak of the floorboard.
And I am off.
Lisa is looking worse for wear; she needs her bed. She needs the rest. Movement is incompatible with this condition.
I close in with her form, whimpering with the pain of my tail.
Lisa isn't going to get delicate treatment, that's for sure.
I pick up with my gummy teeth. A seamless manoeuvre.
Her weight could only ever be good for me, not her. She may as well be a living fishbone.
Well.
She wouldn't be living anymore if I don't start moving.
As gently as possible, I lay her down on her bed, pulling for her body a blanket to keep warm.
Having done my part, I rest on my back. All the while murmuring to myself in my head…
She shouldn't have stood. She shouldn't have helped.
And I should have died.
That way, everything in the world would be that little bit better. That way, my existence wouldn't be rendered moot, if somebody were to kill me. At least they would be laughing.
I'd bring about all the joy in the world if I was gone. Dad probably thinks the same way.
Had I not been born.
Had I died when I was drifted off to sea. For being birthed a runt.
Chieftainship must be hard when you have no reliable heirs to fall back on.
I can't imagine the shame he bears whenever he steps into his home.
Floating within the air, a sick, sick reminder everyday…
That I exist.
Well, whatever it is, I have to put aside these thoughts for a while. There's the Lisa problem I have to attend. It is gnawing away at me so much it physically hurts.
I try to wake her up. A half a dozen nudges and one big one later, and I have just about given up. Her eyelids refuse to crack open. Not even a little.
Gods, why does this have to be so complicated?
A hot huff of frustration voyages out of my maw.
I swear I could feel the barest instances of smoke, that time.
Looking away for a moment, I take a cautionary glance at Jacob.
An awful stench permeates the air – the danger that Jacob could wake up at any time and try to kill me again. This time though, help from Lisa would be a long time coming.
Yeah, don't think she is in any way suited for anything physical at the moment.
Guess it is all up to me now.
Quickly, I borrow her journal for a while, jotting down what I could remember from the Roman medical book. The amount of charcoal I have been using is wearing the stick thin.
Photographic memory isn't exactly my strong suit, as isn't the case for Gothi, so I try to illustrate what I have seen.
Then, seemingly out of sudden contrition, the floorboards cackle under my pressure.
What?
I look down, reaffirming my hind leg on the floor. And... nothing.
Just the sound of Lisa wheezing.
Eh.
Must be a trick of the mind.
Well, it's either that, or I am slowly going crazy. That'd be horrifying.
I begin sketching.
It took around half a minute before the page outputted the results:
One purple looking plant
Fluids from the leaves from some prickly plant
Some rare-as-Hel honey that only exists in caverns
Stag blood
By Thor, that is a list and a half.
They all don't look all too accurate of drawings, but they should be recognisable enough.
…
Oh, who am I kidding?
I may be semi-decent at sketching things, but with those drawings requires me to visually realise in my head. And I don't have the best of memories.
My tongue licks the upper-half of my maw.
This expedition is going to take a while. I puff.
It was then when I felt something cold and pointed press against the back of my neck.
Oh, gods.
Jacob. I close the book.
He's going to finish the job with his dagger, isn't he?
"O-okay… please," he starts. "I… I am sorry about earlier, alright? I am sorry."
His dagger shakes a little, and so does his voice.
"I… lost control. Seeing my baby girl… so close to… something so big and dangerous, I just… snapped. Please… I… I am at my wit's end. Please just… leave us be. If you are h-hungry… there's deer, there's rabbits, there's… oh, God, why am I even trying to reason with an animal?" He chokes, sulking up tears just begging to be let out. His hand tries to stop the river. "I ruined us…"
He fails.
"I ruined us…"
Gods.
"I r-ruined us…"
He is crumbling before me.
Crumbling.
And there's only one thing my conscience permits me to do.
Out of sheer empathy, I honour his wish. Stepping away from Lisa, motioning my head downwards.
His eyes widen. Not in shock, but in gratefulness.
He wipes the strands of tears away.
"Th…" he stutters. "Thank you. T-thank you so much. I don't how you understood me, but… thank you."
I step back to give him more space for his daughter.
He follows through.
Kneeling, he hugs his daughter:
"I am sorry, Lisa. I... I failed you. I don't have the cure… I broke my promise. Oh, God…"
Lisa, no matter how hard Jacob pleas, doesn't respond. She just wheezes.
Her throat fails her, and soon enough, her body will too. Now, it is only a matter of when.
She only opens her eyes slightly, much to Jacob's relief. "Oh, Lisa, oh…"
Jacob hugs her tighter, refusing to let go. He is as stubborn as a bear trap, but who can blame him? When the light of your life will soon disappear?
The two of us thought that she would be too weak to do anything, but, sure enough, there seems to be a little more fight in her than we anticipated.
Weakly, she raises a pointed finger.
Deep inside, I think: Lisa… no, no, point somewhere...
At her diary.
...else.
"Do you want me to…?"
Lisa nods once. Jacob complies.
He reaches a hand to the night desk, taking it.
Oh, no.
If he tells everyone that every dragon is literate and not bloodthirsty like me… humanity will be in for a world of pain. As far as I know, I am one of the only rational-thinking dragons, if not, the only rational-thinking dragon, in the world. If I were able to sweat right now, I'd be raining beads.
He inspects it.
He flips to one of the later pages. My pages.
Jacob smiles meekly. "I guess you aren't strong enough, huh? These words are enormous. And are you talking to? Who's… the Black Angel?"
My skin sheathed cold. Frantically, I shake my head like how a mad dog would. You… stop! He can't know!
She turns to me, then smiling: Oh, yes, I will.
Oh, please don't.
By the time I replied, she turns her full attention to her father.
And she shakes her head. Pointing to me.
I think I felt my scales go white with Jacob's.
He slowly, slowly turns to me, in both awe and in horror.
"You… you can understand us?"