"I wish to see Priestess Sanzang." The guards nodded, and hollered to the door. A muffled female voice, high-pitched like a twittering cheer, allowed permission. "Thank you." The double doors shut behind Yinglong. The boom cued a slender woman, robed in spring green, adjacent to the entrance to turn around. Upon seeing her visitor, she smiled brightly.
The priestess took a sip from her teacup before asking if her visitor slept well.
Countless brief naps at times disturbed, nothing too serious to confess. "Been occupied, keeping things in order." It was untiring routine, a weakness in compliance. Yinglong instantly lowered his chin. His eyes closed if deep in trance. "I had that dream again."
Priestess Sanzang remembered details in their previous session.
"It worries me. I keep myself occupied away from that nightmare."
His little lie filled her anger. "You know better. Don't avoid sleep." Yinglong whirled no counter in return. She continued a light scold when he turned away, half surprised seeing her change attitude in haste. "We maybe Mystics, but our bodies, too, need sufficient rest."
His apology mumbled.
No need to worsen worries for concern softens temper. "Please, sit down." She lead him to his seat. He sat. "Did the usual things happened?"
Yinglong's chest heaved beneath his blue robe, taking the time for his listener to settle before answering: "Yes. Among other things. I was in my armor again." He began, confessing a blameless guilt, his words weaved intricate threads an awful mind product that blanketed in his waking moment alone. "So much blood, suffering. Too much." He muttered, his palm covered his mouth as if this shock offended his listener. "The fog, that voice. This time I ran."
Silence held the room, the confessor heaved.
"The voice was getting louder, nearer, not a care or wonder, I ran. Then..." Brow scrunched, fangs bared, a vein rose from his fist. "Nowhere."
The priestess blinked, repeated his last word.
"It does not matter how it began." The same scrunched brow stayed, his slit irises held the priestess' gaze. "I was lost." The shield began to shatter. He opened himself, tensed, combing his fingers through his matted navy hair.
Sanzang looked out the open window. The sun peeked behind the hills.
"Light shines. Brightens even over the grayest skies. Sadness dictates your heart, because a desire to comprehend..." Her legs lifted to a stand, she stepped near a beam that entered into the room. "Your worry will come to pass, when all becomes order again."
A hand placed over his hefty heart, Yinglong hung his head in half a respected bow. "I trust your words, Priestess."
Whenever Sanzang was concerned for him, it made Yinglong less a beast. No matter how learned you are in knowledge, and convincing in logic, it is not a substitute for faith.
In his human-likeness, Yinglong acquired learned intellect from which he vowed to guard long ago. He studied much these sutras, alongside the priestess, his personal chaplain, for ages. He learned how to treat others well, show respect, aid the needy. Most importantly, knowing what is suffering, and how to end it. The story goes into the life of a mortal prince. In his pity and the want to comprehend, he threw away his luxury, his family, for humanity. This greatly reminded the dragon a mortal he once served after the Deluge. Alas, both were earthly, for grief weighted heavy when came their passing from the Human Realm. Yet their kingly feats and words remain as bold lessons for future generations to better humanity.
Sometimes, words are not enough alone.
There was force.
Grudges fueled the flame of war. The fire spreads. Tears lovers apart. Chaos ensured. Order must be done.
For Yinglong, Order was the very fiber of his draconic being. Belted great kindness, this dragon was a decorated militant arm in his mighty appearance. Ironically, much fighting for order was done externally. Shields can only protect for so long.
In time, a shield dented, becomes vulnerable, eventually shattered by the next thunderous blow. Fortunately, meetings dated the dragon in tempered care that forged anew conviction. His commitment remained internal, reinforced by amicable visits with the Priestess Sanzang. Days ago, he had done small errands for her. Warm smiles greeted upon his finished duty. He too was happy. His heart was happy.
"I could not see anything. Deep in dread, I awoke." His paths unclear, a thought lead to only one. "I feared the worse." Yinglong's Vow stripped him from a peaceful death until all is in Order. Sensing a presence, Yinglong looked up, a silent warmth lamented him, chipping his shield with ease. "Help me, Priestess." Knit fingers searched, then locked together. "Save me."
A dragon can shield himself for so long... Those hugs come in handy. Who else would be there for him in a spiritual way?