Just as a warning again, these memory dreams are getting more intense. They will keep getting intense until an extremely powerful, disturbing sequence.
Remember that episode of Justice League Unlimited when Diana was turned into a pig? That's where I got the idea for the music scene. I figured if Bruce can sing that well, he can probably play the piano, too. (not always the case, but trust me; it really helps). I am really itching to get to a certain adorable scene I have planned... Must. Have. Full. Plot. Line!
I screamed in pain as they tried to carve out my femur again. Every time they cut deep enough to cut into my ligaments, my muscles would heal around the blade and force it back out. Every nerve in my body was on fire, and the chains were starting to cause damage I knew had to be permanent in what were now my wing arms and two legs. I felt the blade saw through - wait, WHAT! Pain exploded through my left leg as the blade burned its way through my sensitive tissue and muscles. My leg kept trying to heal around the blade, but the wicked spikes doggedly tore apart my flesh. The searing metal slammed into cartilage, wrenching another ear-splitting scream worthy of a thunderdrum. I blacked out for a few seconds, the pain reeling my mind back to consciousness as my leg hung by a single scale. Black blood gushed out the stump, but before it hit the ground or the sons of half-troll cowards, I had the presence of mind to catch it and start looping it back into my body. My body started shaking violently, and the last scale released, throwing the men back and me against the far wall. The world teetered, and my vision grew spotty when a massive impact nearly shattered my left hip. My head slammed into the wall, but not before I realized what had hit me: my leg. My blood boiled feverishly as the muscles, cartilage, and bone knit themselves back together.
Eyes snapping open, I slowed my heart rate as I noticed a soft, fuzzy blanket covering me. I was still in the swivel chair, and this time I had only slept for 45 minutes. I shuddered, my entire body aching from the memory of that ordeal. In probably a couple more weeks I would have to endure another death and gradual rebirth. Hopefully we won't be on one of those extended, over-seas missions I keep hearing about from Barbara.
I stretched and started walking back to my room. Well, when I say room, it's more like a miniature house! There's a lush bed fit for a king, walk-in closets filled with fine silks and jewelry, and the bathroom. I had learned what a bathroom technically was in Marvel, but this was on a completely different level. There was a tub that could easily hold a night fury, a shower with sprayers on all four walls, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror with extensions on either side so you could see yourself at every possible angle. I was about half way there when I heard two melodies coming from a solid chestnut door. Curious, I poked my head in to see what was making them. A black, elongated box with a rounded ended was at the center of the room, and Bruce was sitting on a matching bench hitting white and black cubes.
"What's that?" with a clash of cords Bruce jumped up. He relaxed a bit, seeing it was me.
"You've never seen a piano before?"
"A pee-ano? Uh, no. Is that what you were playing?" Bruce nodded and motioned for me to sit down on the bench beside him.
"Yes, it helps me relax, and the music tends to have a soothing effect." I shot him a dubious look and started playing experimentally what he had. Of course, with my own spin to it. The rhythms were strangely out of sync and yet somehow fit together to make a cascading waterfall of sound. Bruce was right; it did help calm my nerves. As I felt the song come to an end, I looked back at him. His eyebrows were halfway up his forehead in shock, "It's not possible that you haven't seen, much less played a piano before!"
"What, was it that bad?" I was a little more confused than usual.
"That was excellent! It sounded like you've been playing for years," Bruce shook his head and retired to his suite while I pondered the instrument a while longer. A few pieces by Bach and Schoenberg were on the stand, so I tried my hands at them. I found Schoenberg more entertaining and played until the wee hours. By then, my fingers could fly across the keys, and I could hear the melodies in my head before I teased them out of the warm wood.
Around three am - which I only knew from a grandfather clock chiming moments after I finished Schoenberg's fourth Sonata - I switched books, only to see something entitled "Alma del Corre." I recognized the language as Italian and thought I'd give it a try. The words felt strange, elongated unnaturally and yet beautiful. My throat started burning a bit, and something about the resonance felt off. After a few more frustrating attempts, I realized it would not be as simple as I originally thought. Perhaps I would ask Bruce about this. After all, if he had an aria book, perhaps he had or at least knew of someone who instructed this music.
Stretching, I yawned and went to fix breakfast. Alfred would do it, but cooking helped me relax. I relaxed into today's natural form, a human with Scauldron wings. Eggs had always reminded me of Egg Biters, cannibalistic fiends who killed and ate any undefended dragon egg or hatchling. I ended up making some sweet bread with pecans and raisins. Odd thing, raisins; on Berk, they would never even have thought of letting perfectly good fruit dry out. It was quite delicious, though. Pecans rarely grew on islands with dragons; the only place I could find them was what I now knew as the "Kung Fu Panda" island.