A/N: Sorry for the delay. I'm only really able to write and update on weekends because I'm so exhausted from work on weekdays that I just punt it and sleep.
Chapter summary: In which Hermos finally gets comfortable, Jinto has sway over Critias, and Elizabeth's inner child is thrilled beyond words.
9: Drako
Hermos studied the Gate room, scanning the ceiling and mezzanine, judging distance and area. He could fit, but he would have to keep his wings tightly pressed to his back. The healing tear in his wing could easily catch on those angular railings if he spread them out. It would feel good for all of a few seconds. Not worth it.
Rolling his shoulders, he glanced back over his shoulder to be sure Critias and Timaeus were keeping the Humans back. By height alone, Hermos was the biggest. But Critias had him in wingspan and Timaeus had then both in length. It was a fair trade. Unfortunately, it made it difficult trying to calculate how best to fit in the Atlantis Gate room without breaking anything or anyone.
Rolling his shoulders, he grimaced. "I'll probably have to face the stairs," he said, glancing over his shoulder to eye the Stargate. He should fit as long as he stayed curled up. Should.
Deep breath. In-
"Wait."
Releasing his pent-up energy in a huff, Hermos tossed a glare at his weyrmate. "Really Critias?" he droned in annoyance. "Right when I was about to shift?"
The blonde man merely smirked and hopped up onto one of the supports separating the hallways on either side of the Gate room. Critias pulling himself up to the mezzanine railing with ease and braced himself there with his arms and feet hooked securely around the metal bars.
"Now."
"What are you doing?" Hermos asked, genuinely confused.
Critias merely tilted his head. "Do you want me to check your injury or not?"
Oh. Yeah, that made sense. Refusing to dignify his wingmate with his verbal answer, Hermos rolled his eyes. Taking another deep breath, Hermos brushed his fingers over the orichalcum ore of his sword, and released the bonds binding him to this tiny form.
It was like a breath of fresh air or a much-needed stretch. The red-brown scales that itched just underneath his bipedal form's skin slid back into place where they belonged, interlocking with each other to form the armor he was born with. He felt his shoulders broaden and his neck elongate slightly. His center of gravity shifted to its proper place as he fell onto all fours, his claws clicking on the metal floor.
His bipedal form didn't have many effective defenses. It was practically a soft, flesh encased pillow. Yet somehow that race of flesh encased pillow people managed to remain alive and well 10,000 years in the future without much change in their anatomy. When he wore that bipedal form, Hermos always had to rely on handmade weapons instead which, other than his sword, were often unwieldy and prone to snapping when too much force was applied.
But like this, he could feel the weight of the bony horns protruding from the back of his skull and tail and grumbled in pleasure. The horns could break off, but it was painful and Hermos would prefer not to lose them. Growing them back itched. Thankfully, he didn't have to do that often. The venom in the tips typically did the got rid of any problem he happened upon.
That, or his wings could carry him away from a problem that proved too difficult to handle. Which, much to his mortification, did happen sometimes.
Like now.
He growled and snapped at Critias when his wingmate grabbed his injured wing and none too gently pulled it so it stretched out, revealing the painful tear. The wound was mostly healed now, but it would scar. Hermos wondered how the scar tissue would affect his flapping or the airflow over his wings in general. A slit-pupiled gold eyes rolled to get a good look at Critias. Hermos really wasn't looking forward to the bookeater pushing him off the balcony. That was going to hurt.
"It's healing well," Critias commented calmly, drawing long, pale fingers over the scar tissues and scab. Hermos made a high pitched sound in the back of his throat which earned him a brief sympathetic glance before Critias' face smoothed out once more. "Maybe you'll remember to watch for treetops next time," the scholar chided without the usual bite in his voice.
Hermos huffed, blowing hot air directly in Critias' face. Blue eyes narrowed in irritation but Critias remained where he was, refusing to meet Hermos' challenge. Without Critias' response, Hermos grumbled and eased himself down so his scaled belly pressed against the floor. It was cool and smooth and he had to be careful not to scratch it with his claws.
He lowered his head and allowed his chin to rest on his foreclaws, crooning. When no one answered his vocalizations, Hermos lifted his head and looked back towards the hall where he come from. His had to lift a wing in order to see the humans still standing. They really were short. The man would only come up to Hermos' shoulder.
They also had fabulous facial expressions. Hermos couldn't help it. He opened his mouth and let out a trill of laughter that vibrated his chest merrily.
:You're enjoying this.:
The strand of thought was welcome and Hermos shook his head in agreement. Timaeus was right. Hermos was quite proud of himself, thank you. He was a respectable size -and yes, that was a stab of offense from Timaeus' mind- and his scales were magnificent. He could take a nap here stretched out like this he was so comfortable. It felt so good.
"Lazy."
What? Instantly, Hermos amusement vanished, replaced by aggravation. He shut his mouth and glared at Critias' bipedal form still braced on the mezzanine railing. The blonde man grinned released his hold on the metal, allowing himself to fall gracefully…
Right onto Hermos' shoulder.
Squawking in indignation, Hermos stood up on all fours and shook himself, attempting to shake off his nuisance of a wingmate. Unfortunately, he really was a bit too large for this room. He couldn't move freely in this form however comfortable and true it was. He just wasn't as flexible like this.
Normally, that wasn't a problem. Hermos was the fastest of his wingmates on the ground in this form. His four, muscular legs, as opposed to Critias' two and Timaeus four delicate talons, were built for fighting and running. He had to be a good runner. He needed the extra speed to get airborne because of his size and weight.
Critias was lighter and tended to roost up high clinging to cliff faces and glaciers. He could get airborne much easier and was by far the fastest in the air. Although his body was smaller than Hermos', his wings were massive and shamelessly dwarfed Hermos' own. Critias could also remain airborne for longer, preferring to glide for long distances, flapping only when necessary to save energy.
Timaeus, however, had both Hermos and Critias in the dust when it came to water. Hermos could swim but his wings made the task a bit difficult. Critias… Well, Critias was miserable in the water. Every time he fell in, Critias tended to splash and flail before shifting to his bipedal form so he could use all four limbs successfully. Relatively speaking.
Hermos snorted. Considering Atlantis was surrounded by water, he suspected Critias was the least comfortable here. Maybe that push off a balcony should be something to look forward to after all. Unfortunately, Hermos probably wouldn't be able to get any time in the air until then so he would enjoy what amusement he could get from this.
He settled down on the floor, pressed his wings against his back, curled his legs close, propped his chin up on the highest step he could reach and huffed. If Critias wanted to tease him, then Hermos was going to sleep through it. It wasn't as warm here as he would prefer and he couldn't breathe on the floor to heat it up without hurting someone. So he'd deal with it. A nap was a nap, after all.
Even if Critias was now sitting on his right shoulder and no doubt gloating. Wings for brains.
Elizabeth couldn't find the words to describe what she was seeing. Judging from the looks of everyone else in the Gate Room, both Athosian and Earthling, she wasn't alone. She felt like a child again watching as her fantastical books came to life in her imagination. Except this wasn't her imagination. It was real.
Dragons were real.
"It's a dragon," she heard Sheppard murmured in awe next to her.
She nodded.
"He's a dragon."
She nodded, a wide smile working its way onto her face.
"They're all dragons."
Oh. That's right. Hermos, Critias, and Timaeus were all Furling. That meant they were all dragons. Furlings were dragons!
"No one back home is going to believe this," Sheppard muttered.
She couldn't help it. She laughed. "No," she agreed. "I don't think they will. Not unless they see it." Hell, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it."
"You're not afraid?"
Tearing her gaze away from the dragon, Elizabeth looked down at Timaeus. His lone violet eye was curious and friendly, but also mildly surprised. Behind him, Teyla stood with wide eyes and a hint of fear on her face. .
"A little bit," Elizabeth admitted, turning back to the reddish brown dragon lounging on her Gate Room floor. "But seeing a dragon? Alive?"
"A real dragon?" Sheppard added, still staring up at the creature in awe.
"You have seen this before?" Teyla asked.
"Dragon?" Timaeus repeated, sounding out the word thoughtfully. "Is that what you call us?"
Yes? No? Oh Lord, where to start. Elizabeth shook her head as she attempted to organize her thoughts.
"We have… stories from back home," she began, "some dating back thousands of years, about dragons. The appearance differed between cultures but…"
Suddenly, Maj. Sheppard snorted, drawing her attention. "Ford's going to be so jealous," the major said, grinning.
Oh dear. The lieutenant was the youngest member of their team from home and he had quite the imagination. Elizabeth looked forward to watching that encounter.
"The Lanteans sometimes referred to us as Drako, yes," Timaeus confirmed, thoughtful. "Perhaps your 'dragon' came from that?"
"It did," Elizabeth said, nodding and fighting back to the urge to touch the scales.
Timaeus smiled. "Then it is likely our people visited your world at one time and interacted with your people."
Without another word, the Furling strode into the room, moving around Hermos' draconic form towards the stairs. Elizabeth followed with Teyla behind her and Sheppard taking up the rear. The further up the steps they got, the larger their little group became. Scientists and military officers and the few Athosians in the room gathered by the door leading out to the balcony.
"Wait."
Pausing on the landing, Timaeus turned to see Critias making his way up the stairs. The next words that passed between Critias and Timaeus were not familiar to Elizabeth. The cadence was odd and dissonant. It almost sounded like listening to a recording of a conversation backwards at the same speed at which it was originally spoken. The consonants were meshed together or alternated between abrupt and smooth transitions punctuated by vowels that sometimes repeated one another.
When Timaeus replied, it was the same language, but the sound of the words was smoother than when Critias spoke, more refined. Critias' voice had an edge to it that Elizabeth could detect even when he spoke English. Timaeus' tone, however, did not have that edge.
After a moment, Timaeus sighed heavily. "I suppose you are right," he admitted in English.
Reluctantly, the Furling shifted so his gaze met Elizabeth's. His brow furrowed in concern before his gaze moved to the sky outside. The sun was almost set leaving just a sliver of red left above the horizon and the storm clouds were looming. His expression fell to one of longing.
Then he turned his back on the windows. "Will you be alright alone tonight?" he asked softly.
Elizabeth knew when the read and trust a person's body language instead of their spoken words. Critias may have said, "Yes," aloud, but the subtle downturn of his lips, the creases by his eyes, and the stiff way he held himself shouted "No."
"Woah!"
Startled by the unexpected cry, Elizabeth spun around to face the control room on the mezzanine a few more steps up from the landing she stood on. Young Jinto was standing on the lowest metal crossbar of the railing and leaning over the top to get a good look at the dragon lounging on the floor below. The Athosian boy's eyes were wide and unafraid, filled with the sparkling awe and wonder of a child.
"That's amazing!" Jinto gasped. "Can you do that too?" he called to Critias, pointing at Hermos' draconic form.
Obviously caught off guard by the boy's enthusiasm, Critias hesitated. "Yes," he said. "I'm not as bulky as he is," he added, much to Hermos' vocal displeasure, "but yes."
Jinto hopped off the railing and ran down the stairs, grasping handfuls of Critias's shirt. "Can you show me?" he pleaded. "Please?"
Elizabeth watched the uncertainty and confusion war with honest surprise on the blonde Furling's face. Timaeus snickered and said something in the Furling's odd language. Whatever it was, it made Critias flush bright red and glare at him and made Hermos snort. Eventually, Critias groaned and crossed his arms.
"Fine," he grumbled. "It's not as if I wasn't going to do it anyway."
Stepping around Jinto, Critias made his way to the balcony door, deliberately bumping into Timaeus as he did so. Timaeus took no offense, he merely grinned and chuckled.
"Come Jinto," he said, holding out a hand. "Once we're outside, I suggest you keep near the wall. The backwash can easily knock a person over. That goes for the rest of you as well," he added, looking at Elizabeth. "We wish you no harm."
Elizabeth nodded and fell into step next to Timaeus, taking care to remain within his sight. "What language was that?" she asked curiously. "It doesn' sound like any language I've ever heard before."
Timaeus smiled. "It is our language," he replied easily, stepping out into the fading sunlight. "We speak amongst ourselves. When we made contact with other races, such as the Lanteans, we realized they had immense difficulty pronouncing our words understandably to either race. So we adopted another language and alphabet which was similar enough to our own to be understandable but much easier for our allies to pronounce." He shrugged. "Different vocal ranges can affect more than we anticipated."
"Understandable," she agreed.
And too true. From her many years working as a diplomat, she'd learned firsthand a single mispronounced word or phrase could escalate a situation from uneasy compliance to a raging tempest. For an entire people to create, change, and adapt their own language for better communication with others was incredibly clever. It also required that all or most of their populace learned the second language if they wished to communicate with races other than their own.
What was Critias doi- Oof!
She staggered when an overly excited Jinto burst between her and Timaeus so he could have a better view. Honestly, the innocent joy and curiosity of childhood was something she really needed to remember. It had already landed Jinto into trouble before. But it had also gifted Atlantis with three new possible allies and their First Contact with the Furlings.
"What are you doing?" Jinto asked, leaning on the railing and watching Critias climb up and over it until the Furling clung to the metal bars from the outside.
"Why do you ask so many questions?" Critias countered with a mild glance at the boy.
Jinto shrugged and offered the Furling a wry grin. "How else am I supposed to learn things without being told 'you'll know when you're older'?" he said.
Critias huffed, but Elizabeth was certain she saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "True enough," he said.
Then he let go and fell. Stunned, Elizabeth ran to the railing while Maj. Sheppard reached out to grab Jinto away so he wouldn't see the devastation that would…
Thump! ... Thump!
The sound was loud and slammed against her ears like a pressure wave an instant before a large, scaled dragon arced back up into view. Unlike Hermos' muscular body, broad shoulders, and horned head and tail, Critias' dragon form was sleek and aerodynamic. The scales on his back were dark, nearly black, in color and they hinged together seamlessly to allow ease of movement. The scales along Critias' underside were the same shade of gray as the storm clouds advancing towards Atlantis.
There were horns on either side of Critias' head and on rising from the forehead, but they were the same near black as the scales on his back and neck. His body was smaller and more sinuous than Hermos and his wings were enormous. They could easily match the wingspan of a small passenger airplane when fully extended.
Then Critias curved and began climbing higher into the sky, gliding on what Elizabeth guessed was a thermal around the floating city, and she saw his underbelly more clearly. Critias only had two hind legs. His forelegs were the leading edge of his wings. Three gleaming claws protruded from the angle of the wing which he probably used for grasping and fighting.
"Wow," Jinto breathed.
Teyla smiled and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently in agreement. Elizabeth joined Jinto and Teyla along the railing, her eyes unable to break free from the dragon gliding effortlessly through the sky. When Critias disappeared into the clouds, Elizabeth's smiled faded.
"He will fly for a while yet," Timaeus said, joining them by the railing. "He needs it."
Teyla frowned, her dark eyes scanning the sky warily. "It will storm soon," she said.
"It will indeed," Timaeus said, nodding. "But it will not harm Critias. He lived much of his life in these situations. Lightning is a form of energy." He hummed thoughtfully. "A form Critias has mastery over. It will not harm him."
"This is unreal," Sheppard whispered.
"I can assure you it is very real," Timaeus said, chuckling. "I would suggest you don't wait up for him. He will not be returning tonight."
"Why not?" Jinto asked.
Timaeus' smile grew sad. "Because he is weary and has lost much; more than either myself or Hermos. He will find somewhere to roost then return in the morning."
"And when you mean 'roost'?" Elizabeth pressed.
"Somewhere high where he can rest, yes," Timaeus said. "The higher to perch, the better."
Lightning flashed, lighting up the sky and heralding the coming storm just as the sun completely vanished below the horizon. A few seconds before thunder rolled and Teyla began ushering a disappointed Jinto inside. Elizabeth moved to follow when another flash of lightning lit the storm clouds from within.
For that brief moment when the clouds were illuminated, Elizabeth could have sworn she saw a winged figure silhouetted against the darkness. A part of her than had been forced the grow up and leave behind childish things surged forward and brought a giddy smile to her face and made her heart race. The Stargate Program had given her imagination a place to grow. But here in Atlantis, her imagination could soar.
Because here, there be dragons.