[OPEN] march log

[bloodwit]

Who: viren & you!
When: mid-march, eostre fesival
Where: various places!!
What: dragon viren and obviously being the life of parties
Warnings: none for now!

i

[ there's an undead lizard? a wet, feral cat? blocking the path. taking a closer look at this thing, it's a bit hideous. at least, compared to its fellow dragons. its scales look mottled, patches of dark purples and blacks streaking through its coat, and its tail spiny and serpentine. its wings are equipped with unpleasant hooks, the wings' fingers elongated and sharp, their leather worn with holes. not even its fur manages a consistent lack of color. ]

[ but if familiar with the signs — it almost could look like it's cwyld-infected. it receives anxious glances from passerby, others nimbly giving it a healthy berth. it may be the size of a cat, but it does, apparently, have an innate skill in keeping people out of its path. that, and its lower half remains coated with mud, brought on by an recent heavy rain. ]

[ when the dragon appears to recognize someone, its pitch eyes grow wide. it trots near, leaving muddy tracks in its wake. ]

Excuse me. [ ... ah, it's a deep voice. the dragon sits, its head slightly bowed. if one can read dragonic expressions, it looks -- very reluctantly humbled, even if its tone remains lofty. its claws sink into the ground. ] I need your assistance.

ii.

[ his shifting, and the rains, eventually take their toll on viren; it's a fairly miserable existence he's been made to live this week, forced into a form that, while he's beginning to grow accustomed to it, he might also resent.  ]

[ when the weather's beaming with brightness again, he crawls to a sunny patch of earth. one may spot a small dragon curled up into a tight ball, its snout tucked beneath a paw -- he can be found in some grass of someone's backyard, in gardens, perhaps even snoozing on a secluded bench. ]

iii.

[ viren doesn't think he needs a reprieve (certainly not!) from anything earlier in the month, but the crowds of eostre draw his attention regardless. even if it would typically be something much too noisy for his tastes, dragonic instincts win out, as they're prone to do—

and so he's found himself there some early evening, a cup of that sweet liquor in hand. perhaps consciously compensating for the disarray of the last few weeks, he's dressed neatly, pulling out some of his better clothes for the festivities. unfortunately, even if he isn't the main target (just a target), someone thinks to dump a flower crown atop his head. with the shape of his horns, it's almost like a fun (and very high stakes!) ring toss. a few petals fall to shoulders, some floating onto the surface of his drink. ]

[ with a heavy sigh, aggrieved as he is, viren plucks it from atop his head. he turns to someone near, ]

Would you like this?

[ or else, what with his accompanying gesture, it might get tossed to the bushes. ]

v. wildcard
( hmu w/ whatever — i'm at kirbies if you'd like to plot! )

Comments

1

[sneaksweet]

[Juza has a bag full of pastries and not enough experience with the cwyld to realize this tiny dragon is probably infected. So when he implores for help, Juza bows back slightly, default Japanese politeness setting in, even with his rough appearance.]

What's up?

[bloodwit]

[ ah, it's juza. viren trusts him just marginally enough to be open about this task. he paws the muddy ground, but eventually rises to his feet again, slinking over to near juza's shoes. ]


[ he peers upward. ]

I, [ he begins, haltingly. he's somewhat less prepared to proclaim this than he thought. ] —Left something, in the wooded area nearby. And I am not in well enough shape to retrieve these things on my own.

[sneaksweet]

[This cat sized dragon is surprisingly cute for looking kind of... sickly, but that's fine. He kneels down to make it a little easier to talk to him. Is it condescending? He's not thinking about it.]

What did you leave? Do you need like... a clinic or something?

[bloodwit]

[ that's right. stare into the depths of its void eyes, twin pinpricks of purple looming within their depths. the dragon's face immediately scrunches up as the other man adjusts himself to better be at his level, apparently registering the gesture just as juza hadn't thought. ]

[ the passing displeasure matters not, viren thinks. this is already humiliating. as to the clinic, the question's met with a sigh, ]

I'm fine.

[ marginally - whenever he gets home, he will have to take something for energy. ]

Some... personal items. [ he eventually answers. (.... he means his clothes and like, a bag or two.) the dragon twists around, lifting its snout to indicate down the path. ] Nothing you, yourself, shouldn't be able to carry.

ii.

[proudofme]

[While rainy in a good portion of the city, some sun had opened up in Soren's neighborhood and lingered through the day. This was making it a bright and pleasant, if humid area. Ideal for dragons looking to curl up on seemingly secluded mansion porches.

Seemingly, because Soren is actually around and discovers a slumbering(?)... ugly ball of fluff and goes to get a broom.

Poke poke, with the bristle end]

.... urg, this thing die out here..?

[bloodwit]

[ viren, in whatever oddball dream his brain's adopting external stimuli into, feels the prod of bristles against his flank. his slumber's deep enough that it may take a few pokes. ]

[ but eventually, the thing begins to shift and stir. looks like it might be alive, after all. ]

[proudofme]

[Urhghghh- It's moving! Okay, well, not dead... but maybe close to it. Soren doesn't quite connect that the cwyld by appearance, but even he can tell it doesn't look right or healthy.

He bops it gently with the broom twice more before thinking it might actually need help.]

Okay, uh, little buddy. Keep holding still. [Though he didn't like the idea of using magic in general, turns out he was really needing to find some outlet for it. He'd asked about the Wilders and received some basic lessons how healing magic, though he'd barely tried his hand with it. This thing could probably use help.

And if he messes up, well, it was probably going to die anyways? Right?

He reaches to pet what he thinks is the creature's head, but it's more the square of his fluffy back. Healing... touch? Or something!]

ty soren

[bloodwit]

[ there's the light pressure of a something on his back, which is easily dismissed; what's less easy to slumber through is the resulting zap to follow. the dragon jolts to life and onto his feet, the fur along its spine fluffing.

viren gives a vigorous shake of his head, trying to clear himself of the sensation (it had definitely been an energizing touch), muscles tensed. its only after another second or two that the dragon's eyes finally peep open, instantly fixing on the culprit, ]

Soren!

II

[hippocarnival]

[A spiky lump of purple doesn't exactly blend in, so of course Yuya slows to a stop long enough to decipher it's a dragon. A small one--a baby?

Yuya glances around expectantly for--some parent, finding no one else around to claim it. So he creeps closer, leaning over to try and peer at the little dragon and see how okay it is.]

Hey, there. [He starts softly, trying not to scare him.] Are you all alone?

[bloodwit]

[ the ... baby, appears to barely register the words, soft as they are and how deeply it sleeps. at this proximity, yuya can likely note its chest rising and falling, its tail and legs muddied. its been an irritatingly long day for it! ]

[ it begins to rouse, though; though it doesn't yet open its eyes, its head lifts, one of its legs shakily stretching forward. ]

[hippocarnival]

[That's right, a baby.

A baby that's probably a person, so at least Yuya's not immediately manhandling Viren like he would a kitten. He circles around the bench so he's in front of Viren, to be less surprising, leaning over with his hands on his knees. He'll at least wait for him to open his eyes before trying to get answers out of him.]

[bloodwit]

[ the dragon gives a shake of his head, clearing some of his drowsiness. he eyes blearily blink open, the world slow to come into focus again after such a thorough nap. ]

[ ... ah. even if the head of distinctive green-and-red hair is familiar, he leans back, not having expected another to be present. (if he reflected on his surrounding more, yes, he is at a bench, this isn't shocking).

after a pause, ]

... Yuya?

[ gee, baby sure does have a deep, masculine voice. ]

I

[weirdnecro]

Well well. This is quite the situation, isn't it?

[She was amused. Heavily so, even as she moved to squat, and peer down at him. What a little gremlin she has on her hands.

Idly, she wonders if she flipped him onto his back, whether he would be unable to flip over again.]

You're covered in mud. What in the world did you get into?

[bloodwit]

[ sokie earns a little glare the moment she better moves towards his eye-level, viren suspiciously raising a dirty paw like he's debating turning on his heel right then and there. but - he won't forget that she's helped him out before, with much less prompting.

so he keeps still, for the moment. ]

A rainstorm. [ there's brief show of his fangs, indicating his displeasure at the weather. ] Outside, which often results in mud.

[ by no means, typically put-together as he is, would this be his preferred look. he resists immediately dissolving this conversation towards cattiness, his tone instead kept hopeful: ]

Will you lend your assistance, then?

[weirdnecro]

That looks like you fell in a puddle. Not to mention...you look infected.

[She tsked briefly, knowing that it wouldn't take much to rile him up and make him stalk off. But...seeing how he is...she murmurs a word, which has her covered in a quick if effective shield against cwyld.]

Sure, I'll help. C'mere lil kitty.

[C'mon she'll pick you up.]

i, flexible with any time during the month!

[usurpers]

[ eren doesn’t like this weather much at all, either. even with the charms to keep the water at bay, he finds it easier to walk around with a heavy hood that could slip the water right off his poncho and away from the rest of him. horns: hidden, extra large hood. his tail suffers, coiled around his leg and too long to successfully attempt remaining beneath poncho covers even with the runic tattoos offering wetness protection— he’s all about saving as much magic as he has stored in them before he must seek out another recharge, so unless absolutely necessary!! the rain shall not have him.

he’s in . . . mildly better spirits from the last time he’s been seen by viren, at least. collecting fresh blossoms in a nap sack and awfully, awfully itchy. perhaps itchy hadn’t been the correct term? he felt flakey. it’s easier to realize that he’s shedding when he leaves some fallen scales in his wake. he doesn’t recognize the cat-sized dragon at first, bending close to his knees to get a better look, as well as within better tasting distance. now, there’s a scent he knows, and adjust his stance to accommodate his (custom made) rain boots. you thought, that dragon legs don’t where shoes. talons out, all goes too. they don’t, hah, but they can wear soles infused with water resistance. so he doesn’t get, you know. muddy. like this guy. ]

I have a feeling. [ of. what it could be. at least he won’t pet him, much less touch him. not because he looks infected, eren can smell the taint of cwyld from faraway, but because— who the hell likes to be touched, even when they have tiny toe beans? he’s been there, he knows how it is. ] Stuck?

o/ !!

[bloodwit]

[ if eren can read dragonic expressions, viren might look pleasantly surprised to see the other man. if — embarrassed, but trying not to show that he feels humiliated by all of this. it's a difficult balancing act to achieve. ]

[ spoken reluctantly, giving a short nod as he peers upward (even if he's bent to scrutinize, eren is still much too tall), ]

Yes...

[ he adjusts his posture to sit straighter, even if keeping from dipping his head is effortful. his shoulders hunch, and his lip curls jus slightly. ]

Something you've also experienced then [ obviously, he would add-- eren's been around the dragon block in terms of experience, what at least seems like much longer ], I would gather.

[usurpers]

[ aye, he could read them just like a human’s more expressive ups and downs. might come with being a lizard, himself. he’s just sorry for his height. ]

When winter came. [ he had less control of how much his energy dropped and led him to a tiny chicken-sized runt. ] It might be a different trigger for all of us.

[ or maybe a nice mix of both. he holds his hands out, with his talons curved inward for safety measures, and behind him slithers his tail into a leisurely, slow, slow wave of its pin needle tip. tongue bleps. lizard to lizard interaction. can’t quite help it when he hasn’t the smallest reason to be territorial. ]

The edge of the Wilde might be a safer spot. If you want a better chance at your usual height, [ a gesture ] you might want to bide your energy.

[ his shoulder is free for hitchhikes. ]

2 - I'd say sorry, but I'm not - Also her second faenapping attempt

[stopfen]

[She's stood by for a moment. Antenna twitching towards the small creature on the bench.

Then the fae's normally dark grey eyes, change to an absolute black as the pupils expand, eating the iris. And...There's something not right about them. Something almost caring, but there was something foreboding in how intensely they focused on the smaller being. Too dark to truly give anything away.

There was very little preventing her from walking up to it. And if it didn't move or comment, she'd scoop it up... Take it somewhere safe. Yes. Defend it. Because it was small and small meant baby. Yes. ]

beautiful 1/2

[bloodwit]

[ viren would be completely none-the wiser, even as he's scooped up. it will actually take a moment or two before he can jostle awake, pitch eyes slowly blinking open, vision initially bleary. but now he's — more elevated? than he recalls he'd been at the bench, if he can even recall that had been where he'd drifted to sleep. ]

[ so it takes a moment. ]


What...

[bloodwit]

[ —is happening. no, no, what was a bench is definitely warm now, and these are actually, unmistakably, arms. viren's limbs stiffen, his fur standing on end, eyes growing wide with alarm. ]

[ the dragon begins to thrash. ]

—Unhand me!!

[stopfen]

[Shh, shh. He's just being lifted and held up. Like a not very fuzzy teddy. Her arms curling around his middle. Mikasa's neck cranes to look down at the surprisingly deep-voiced baby. Tilting her head at the pitch black eyes that meet her's. Face placid.]

My hands aren't touching you.

[Completely deadpan. It's fine, her arms were touching him. And her hands were touching her arms as she hugged him too her. It was perfectly fine. No need to unhand. ]

closed to stiles & sasuke

[bloodwit]

[ viren supposes he's fortunate in his first change.

he could've shifted in his home, at work, on his street — unruly and disastrous, that would've been. the place hadn't yet done him dirty in at least one respect, having dreams and then one day awakening feeling as if he had a new spark of potential. it was something he couldn't articulate, but had drawn him to wider, more open spaces, seeking to stretch wings his human form had to grow.

the dragon draws itself to its full height — not yet its largest, or grandest, at about ten feet in height on all fours. while he's still about as strong as a bull elephant, at this size: what is a shame is that he's yet to experience the fabled strength (power) that should come with his monstrous changes. someday, he would master it.

the dragon's tail lashes, longer than the length of its body, its bladed end striking against the trunks of trees and cracking branches. he hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself in open daylight; he remains at the outskirts of the wilde, tucked away from prying outsiders. he wouldn't travel deeper and cause undue risk to himself through the touch of the cwyld — not yet, anyway. his claws scour against the ground, causing deep rivulets as viren explores the possibility of his changes; the dragon's head lifts, pitch eyes searching through the undergrowth for any signs of life so as to test his newfound prowess.

perhaps his senses are yet to be as honed as he knows more experienced dragons to be; however, his head swivels when he hears the crack of twigs through the undergrowth, his muscles tensing. his jaw parts, preemptively, the glow of a flame lighting his throat, its hue magenta through layers of skin and scales. ]

[ he doesn't need to announce himself — surely he could be seen through the treea, if anyone were to be within his earshot. ]

cw: animal death

[mensrea]

[ Under Sasuke’s watchful eye, Stiles has emptied the quiver of all arrows – most of which have been lost to the untamed undergrowth surrounding his target: a relatively squat tree. Sucking back a defeated sigh, he trudges deeper into the Wildes in search of the missing arrows. One by one they’re located, pulled free from the ground the way he was taught to avoid breaking them, and then returned to the quiver. Though he’s desperate to stall for time, Stiles tries to be quick about the process; Sasuke grows weaker and weaker by the day as his vampirism takes root. The sooner Stiles makes enough progress to meet his approval, the sooner Sasuke can rest.

But you know what they say about the best-laid plans. As Stiles stares down in dismay at the dead rabbit an arrow mistakenly skewered (aren’t you proud, Sasuke), his trichobothria detects the vibrations of something large moving in the nearby vicinity. No sooner has he received this information than a booming clap resounds through the Wildes, making him jump uneasily. Obviously, he should return to the clearing that they chose for the purpose of training. Obviously.

So, naturally, Stiles heads instead in the direction of the noise and vibrations, forever curious to a fault. Despite all attempts to keep his footsteps light, its impossible to navigate the forest without stepping on loose brushwood. He trains his eyes on the ground to avoid twigs, not noticing how close he’s come to the massive silhouette until there’s an obnoxiously loud snap under his heel. Nervous, Stiles jerks his head up to see if he’s been heard – and finally sees the dragon. ]

Oh, [ is all he manages in weak, resigned horror as the dragon prepares its dragon’s breath, ] Oh, damn.

[eyeforaneye]

[ The sun is higher in the sky than it normally is when they begin their training sessions, aiming to make this one last longer in spite of the drain it'll cause him to feel at the start. Not an issue, really, when they're beginning with the remedials that will allow Stiles to work on his form before they actually attempt anything new. He's observing, offering occasional words of instruction, but otherwise remaining hands off... at first.

In fact when he sends Stiles to retrieve the arrows he'd loosed haphazardly into the woods he doesn't follow after him, remaining on the overgrown stump he's designated as his supervisory perch for the day in order to address his text messages. A popular man.

Then he feels it. The first powerful vibration, not too distant, that immediately has him rising to his feet. He doesn't call his name but Stiles shouldn't be far... shouldn't. And yet searching within range of the arrows turns up nothing, and the second he realizes he's gone is the second that he too heads in the direction of that sound. Because he knows Stiles. He's either there willing or unwillingly. ]

Move! [ He sees him almost too late, the distant glow of embers reflected in his eyes when he roughly grabs at the back of Stiles's shirt, jerking him back with a wheel about-face to plant his back against the nearest tree, the other teen pulled down against him for cover. ] Stay down, stay quiet.

[ Because if an attack comes and it's obvious there's hostility here, he will certainly make an attempt to engage in order to let Stiles get out. ]