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Karyorrhexis

Karyorrhexis

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The night was cool but not brisk, and Karyorrhexis drifted easily along on the currents, wings outstretched, wind whistling through her feathers. She breathed in the dusk, the exhale causing her vents to seethe a dull, luminous blue. For a moment she closed her eyes, appreciating the sense of calm this atmosphere allowed her. For the moment - and likely only this one - she was at peace; there were no wars being waged (close enough for her to ascertain), no lesser creatures in peril, no dangers to her being. Karyorrhexis, therefore, had no pressing duties and could, blessedly, take this moment to herself. If the commissure of her mouth could pull into a quiet grin in this form, it would have.

After another hour or so in the sky, the dragon began searching for a place to land. She was not overly spent and did not necessarily need to replenish herself, but rest was wise for the creature which could be called upon in any breath. Pushing her consciousness out, down, Karyorrhexis felt for colonies that would need to be avoided. This land was not always kind to her; much like scientists faced with a novelty, many desired to capture, imprison, and otherwise study the beast. Her scales made excellent armor; her fire a nearly everlasting flame. Returning to the earth without first ensuring the lot was vacant was therefore unwise.

A small clearing, deep within an otherwise thick forest, appeared to be her best option. Woodland creatures abounded, but aside from them she felt nothing to fear. She dipped beneath the current draft she was riding and eased down, tucking her powerful wings in slightly, then more, until she was low enough that she needed to lean back and spread them out to catch her massive weight. The clearing was, indeed, quite narrow - Karyorrhexis frayed several feathers at the tips of her wings while landing. Pulling them quickly into her sides, she completed the last fifty or so feet in freefall. She landed with a dull, resounding thud, talons sinking into the dirt for purchase. Aside from someone physically witnessing her, these marks were the largest giveaway to her existence. Despite this, many still did not believe she did.

Rolling her shoulders, Karyorrhexis dislodged the last bits of tension that always came with a land. She stretched her neck, unfurled her wings, and shook before settling back into the subtle likeness of a serpent - legs curled under her, wings drooped easily at her sides, and cervical spine coiled so that her head dangled several feet over her shoulders. She could hunt, she supposed, but she didn't need to, and she did not believe in taking more than absolutely necessary. She would rest here, then, until the sun rose and woke her - or the pleas of the distressed did.
 
Chaceledon found himself outside. Again.

Yet for the first time in a long time, he was adrift. Usually Oor had the courtesy to drop him near a road with the idea of making him walk to town and suffer the company of humans or elves. This time he had been dropped right in the middle of the woods. The cold, dark, disgusting woods full of noise and insects. Dirt. Gods there was dirt everywhere!

He had been kicked out in the middle of the woods in a robe that wasn’t even finished!

Chaceledon had been in the middle of the last layer of a robe. He was wearing the first four layers; the thin under robe, the two layers of linen, one of silk, and the last top layer of thick wool. Deep beautiful hand dyed purples being shredded by the god forsaken undergrowth! He had to get out of these trees. He heard a rip and looked down at the spray of hand-made amethyst beads in the dirt.

That did it.

“FUCK!” he screamed in a very unladylike fashion, bursting into the clearing. That beadwork had taken weeks!

The dragon ripped the outer garment off and looked at it for a moment. Weeks of beadwork. Weeks of weaving. Weeks of searching for underground lichen to make the exquisite purple dye. The lining alone...he hurled it into the clearing and right into the face of something he thought he’d never see again: another dragon.

Chaceledon stared, long copper hair in a wild tangle around his head and shoulders. The expensive gold and amethyst pins that kept it up had come loose in his tantrum. He was wearing makeup that had since streaked. The only thing in perfect form was the purple stain on his lips.
Karyorrhexis
 
A rustling disturbed her barely-there slumber, causing the beast's eyes to pop open. The rest of her did not move, not wishing to add to the calamity in the otherwise still night. Only her orbs shifted, studying her surroundings as best she could. When this did not work, she closed them again and felt with her mind... The ground, the dirt... the foliage... Ah! There. A.. human? But he did not feel like one.

His sudden outburst caused the dragon to snort and shake her head, before tipping it like a bird in his direction so as to study him more closely. For a moment she felt a surge of.. something. A strange thrill she had not been acquainted with in many, many years. But surely she was incorrect; no dragon would act the way his man was.

Karyorrhexis shook her head again. Of course she was mistaken; she must be more tired than she realized. Sighing, she regarded the man dutifully, if not disdainfully. What ails you? she queried, thankful he would not be able to hear her weary tone. He was distressed, and so she would aid him, if she could, regardless of her own exhaustion.

Chaceledon
 
Chaceledon regained his composure shockingly quickly. He straightened and wiped away the streaks under his eyes, taking down his pins and reaffixing them with the blind skill of someone who had been doing it several times a day for thousands of years. He wasn’t presentable, not in any way, to another dragon. She had been the first he’d seen in years! In milennia. He made an effort to fix the way his clothing lay and picked up the purple robe with a sigh, folding it neatly and setting it on a rock. She was a dragon, she would understand his frustration.

Then again did younger dragons understand the paramount importance of appearance and beauty? Surely no dragon would lay on her belly in the dirt!

“Not what but whom.” Chaceledon said, lifting his chin. “How are you maintaining your form in such chill? I’ve been thrown out into this hideous wilderness more times than I can count with barely the energy for a flame. Yet here you are.”

He examined the glass nails on his fingers. Well thank the gods he hadn’t chipped anything. “Chaceledon of the House of Peridot. And you are?” he wondered which draconian house she hailed from.

Karyorrhexis
 
The man-thing seemed to get himself together rather quickly, which she may have been able to understand if she had ever caught herself in a tantrum such as the one he had just displayed. 'Fuck', though, was not part of her vocabulary. Of course she understood the sentiment behind it, but she did not feel justified in using it. Dragons were more regal than such profanities.

She was not attempting to study his thoughts, but she gathered a general curiosity about her. What, she reiterated. A name told her very little; a species, however, divulged a great deal. Inwardly, she raised a brow at his peculiar language. The energy for a flame? I have had much time to work on such things, she divulged, looking him over once more. What did he know about dragons and their dislike of cold...?

Her head tipped once more at the lengthy title. Karyorrhexis knew of no 'House of Peridot', but the way he spoke it made it seem of import. To who had yet to be determined. ...Karyorrhexis, of the dead realm. She did not expect him to understand what that meant; no one ever did. Rumor had it that, shortly after her escape, the dark elves had lain waste to her homeland. Nothing survived there now. It was only this which stopped her from continually trying to return. She had, repeatedly, at first, but with the knowledge that there was nothing left, the great empty question of what she was trying to find dwindled her attempts to nil over the centuries.
 
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Chaceledon raised an eyebrow. Time to work on such things? How? He hadn’t known a dragon to simply defy the cold before. He shivered a bit. Karyorrhexis of the Dead Realm made little sense to him either. Perhaps she came from a smaller estate? He cleared his throat.

“Well if you’ll kindly warm me, I’ll design you something. I may be enslaved to an undead shamble but I can still see something to make mother dragons weep in joy.” he stated with no small amount of arrogance. He wasn’t incorrect. He’d once been famous in the warm southern regions for his jewelry and clothing designs. Oh, to reclaim that throne again. “I haven’t flown for nearly fifteen thousand years. A bit of your flame would help my own.”

Karyorrhexis
 
They stared at each other a moment. She found his fixation on the cold a bit queer; it was not that frigid out. Suboptimal, certainly, but not so dastardly as to force her into a cave where she could contain her heat most easily. A strange sensation wove up her spine to her brain, as if this conversation should be alerting her to something. There was still that energy he put off enclosing them in this space, as well. He felt so familiar, but she was certain they had not met before.

Design her something? What could she want? Her scales protected her in this form and the other, and with enough concentration in her human iteration she could mold them to appear as just about anything. She supposed it was the sentiment that mattered though. Most kind of you, but that will not be necessary.

She had not the slightest clue what he was on about, but she shied away at the mention of mothers. He could not possibly know her history, so she immediately forgave the transgression... but it still stung.

Her head snaked back at the mention of flying before it was lowered to peer at him more closely. The nearer she drew, the more she wanted to, like magnets of opposite polarity. It was a confusing sensation, to say the very least. Pulling back, Karyorrhexis slowly stood and ambled to the clearing's edge. A combination of teeth and claws were used to uproot a few sizable trees and break them into smaller pieces, and then she haphazardly arranged these into a pile. Breathing into the base of her creation, she brought quite the pyre into existence. Without looking at the strange man again, she returned to where she had initially settled. Fire.
 
Chaceledon watched her patiently, his arms across his chest. As soon as he saw the blaze he knew. It tugged at him like dreams of warm sands and sunlight. He walked to the blazing pyre, and calmly took off his robes and jewelry. Layer by layer he set them aside, folded neatly, and climbed the burning wood as though she’d set up a difficult hiking challenge.

Chaceledon sat within the flames and for the first time in so long he was warm. Warm. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting another dragon’s flame lick along his skin. The warmth awoke an answering blaze in his own chest. He surged forth from the pyre, a long and elegant ribbon of coppers and purples.

He was larger than she, with a wild mane of fur around his face and neck, and at the crooks of his elbows. The tip of his tail sported the same copper beauty, his scales shimmering in the light as he climbed higher. He spun and twisted in the air, his short legs pinned against his belly. He spouted flame of his own, beautiful amethyst fireballs that fizzled out in the sky.

He swung in a wide loop, gouting flame as he went.

Karyorrhexis
 
She eyed Chaceledon and his peculiar behavior, wishing to sleep but knowing she should not let her guard down so completely in the presence of a stranger. He climbed the pyre like a mountain hiker, climbing into the flames with a smile on his face. Karyorrhexis was, to say the least, alarmed - she did not know what he was, but fire wa-

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. A startled growl/cry escaped the ancient being as she suddenly scrambled backwards, wings flaring out slightly to keep them from underfoot. She blinked multiple times, almost certain this was some type of illusion, but it remained no matter what she did. Hesitantly, she reached out with her mind - and linked almost immediately with his.

Breaths coming in great gasps, Kary did not know how to behave. She watched as he took flight without wings, the brilliant colors catching the moonlight. She was silent solely because she could not think of a single word to say. What was there? 'I thought I was the last of my kind'? 'You are a dragon'? Both sounded ridiculous. So she simply sat there, only movement the great rise and fall of her chest which in turn caused the tips of her wings to periodically brush the ground. How was this possible?
 
Chaceledon was full of unrepentant joy. He flew in a wide circle, diving down and coming back up again. His realm was the sky, and he was so happy to be back in it. But the joy was short lived. A native of the burning desert sands, flying in cold air drove him to the ground, curling back up in her pyre. He blew flames of his own around the nest, settling in the warmth like a great cat. He draped long, muscular coils over the burning logs and nodded to her.

It has been far, far too long since I took flight. All I needed was something stronger than man’s fire. He told her, crossing his paws and looking at her. She seemed surprised. More so than others. What, could she not recognize another dragon when she saw him?

Karyorrhexis
 
A long silence stretched between them, Karyorrhexis staring at Chaceledon and Chaceledon seeming all to enthralled with himself to note how stunned she was. Or, perhaps, feeling her unblinking attention was warranted due to the overall glory of him. He made an attractive dragon, yes, though he was not of any variety she knew. You fly, yet you have no wings, she observed, knowing full well their magic was not something to be questioned. It was just... different.

She had so many questions for him. Where had he been all this time? Did he know her family? ...Were they even from the same realm? ..Where to even start?

I have never met another dragon with whom I was not raised, Kary stated lamely, still too stunned to formulate real conversation. By now she'd moved forward, neck outstretched as she sniffed at him, wings slightly puffed out like a cat unsure if it had found friend or foe. He smelled... spicy. She did not know what that meant.
 
Chaceledon tossed his mane, grinning. My breed has always flown without wings. My mother, father, sister and brother all look like me. I was taken from them a long time ago. He rolled his shoulders, looking up at the night sky. He was back, proud and beautiful and whole. He looked at her, letting her sniff at him. He moved delicately to do the same, tilting his head.

Well then, what brought you here? Surely a dragon wouldn’t just lay down in the dirt. I’m sure we can find better accommodations elsewhere. Something suited to us. He half closed his eyes and settled into the flames. Gods it felt good to be warm.

Karyorrhexis
 
Her heart ached at the mention of such a robust family. She had similar lines many, many years ago; now it was her, alone, in this world.

Until Chaceledon arrived, at least.

As baffled as she was to see him, he surprised her still with his words. I... do not think of myself in the regards you seem to, she corrected. My power is rooted in the world around me. I prefer to be immersed in it. As much as she gave to the earth, it, too, supported her. If she was incapacitated, she could draw energy from the greenery around her to replenish herself. At great cost to the foliage, which unsettled her, but they always seemed honored to aid her when she truly needed it. She would not dare take more than necessary.

Since he did not seem to quite grasp the gravity of what she had said prior, Karyorrhexis reiterated, I thought I was the last of our kind.
 
Chaceledon cracked open an eye and laughed. Our race is dying, that’s for sure. We dwindle by the day. Monster hunters kill us and mortals think of us as evil creatures. But I know for a fact my family is still alive. Perhaps other noble families are as well. They fled deep into the sands where mortals fear to go. He looked at her. She seemed so innocent. She wasn’t ready for his world. His family was a group of vain and selfish people, and if he was being honest...he could be very much the same at times. Only raising the Volkers had taught him humility.

Flames are my alignment. I must have heat. Keeping me cold was what was keeping me in that form. Chaceledon looked to the sky again and held the coals a little tighter. Even here the air is an enemy. I need to leave this forest and fly south, but when this fire dies I’ll be human and cold again.

He had missed this form. This true form of beautiful purple and copper. He looked over Karyorrhexis, leaning his head out of the flames to smell her. Perhaps she could come with him out of the cold?

Karyorrhexis
 
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