Celestial

Temeraire Affiliated with Aldebaran

[commerceprotocol]

May I please have a gift?

Thank you, Temeraire! ♡

Your gift has been delivered to your room. Inside, you will find a…

♡ COMMEMORATIVE COMMERCE PROTOCOL PHONE CASE ♡You hold in your hands a sparkly, baby blue phone case, lovingly adorned with a neon blue bow with neon green details.

Be sure to come back soon!

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

ashininglion‌:

She almost follows the dragon into a bow, stopping herself at the last moment and turning the dip into a grave nod. “Nice to meet you, Temeraire.” God, she’s repeating herself already. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, like, walking around. I’m doing some gardening, obviously-” here Min splays a hand out to wave at her uneven line of daisy bulbs in her patch of dirt. “And I guess I wanted someone to see if I was… doing it right. But you’re not a denizen, so you probably can’t help me.”

Well, he might be able to. Min isn’t going to presume the wisdom of a dragon who spends his leisure time wandering in the woods. Or any dragon, come to that. “Where… Um, what’s your world like? If you don’t mind me asking? Are there only dragons in your world?”

Temeraire huffs a little, bending down to look at the patch of dirt, before he says, “I do not know much of anything about planting things,” regretfully- “I am normally much larger that I am right at this moment, and so I would be too large to garden.” He leans back up, then, dismissing that from his mind. Maybe he’ll learn about gardening at a later time, but for now, he’s much more interested in her than in her plants.

“I am from England,” he says, eyes bright, “and my egg came from China, where my mother and sire live. My imperial name is Lung Tien Hsiang.” He pauses after imparting that information, then considers her next question. “No, there are not only dragons- there are sheep and cows and horses, and sea serpents and birds, and humans of course.” He eyes her curiously. He’s never thought about somewhere humans wouldn’t exist.

He imagines it would be awfully lonely, even not considering that it would mean Laurence wouldn’t be there.

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

jovialcontrarian‌:

“I am neither skilled at flying nor at walking, so you have me at a bit of a disadvantage.” The Contrarian laughs, watching curiously as Temeraire spreads his wings. It elicits a strange sort of bittersweet nostalgia, of looking up from the ground at his childhood friends, jumping from rooftop to rooftop with practiced ease. 

“Oh the rubbery men…poor wretches, the lot of them. Beings with the faces of squid, and, well, the bodies of squid too, I suppose. I’ve never particularly cared to see one unclothed.” 

Temeraire’s head tips in the opposite direction, and then back, for all the world like a mongrel trying to figure out what exactly it’s hearing, and he considers those words. Squids... are like octopuses, aren’t they? So then, are ‘Rubbery Men’ like ‘Octolings’?

Is Eight a ‘Rubbery Man’?

How peculiar.

“What,” he asks, pensively, “if they are not squids at all, but octopuses? Are they still, then, Rubbery Men, or do they have a different name? And why are they called ‘Rubbery Men’ and not ‘Squid Men’, if they have the bodies and faces of squids?”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

jovialcontrarian‌:

“Even if you were to fly over my London, I doubt you would see it, we are far beneath the ground. I can only assume we are from disparate Englands.”

He had never had the opportunity to speak to a dragon before…what would arguing with one be like? There was no opportunity or venue for attack just yet, but the prospect was terribly excited.

“I have never met a dragon, no, but the Neath is full of strange and terrible things. If one can grow accustomed to the sight of the Rubbery men, a dragon isn’t too farfetched of a concept– wait, can you actually fly?”

The Protocols took his wine opener, but still let a dragon roam about? Unjust to the highest degree.

“Oh, yes,” Temeraire says, preening a little. There, now- no one else has seemed surprised at his ability to fly, not like this, but the mayor also seems duly impressed. Or perhaps offended? He can’t quite tell, but it is most certainly one or the other of those two. He flares out his wings, then, from where they’ve been folded quite tightly and neatly against his sides, stretching them to their full span before letting them relax back again, not wanting to catch the breeze inadvertently.

“I am much better at flying,” he says ruefully, “than I am at walking, but it does get quite lonely to be up there alone all of the time.” And then he tips his head, eyes bright and curious as his tail curls forward, wrapping around his haunches.

“What, pray tell, is a ‘Rubbery Man’?”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

glimmeringbone‌:

ordennan-steel‌:

Hella’s hand twitches when Adelaide’s fingers brush over it, but she doesn’t jerk it away. Because. She’s being civil. Adelaide is standing a bit closer than civility might call for, though. 

“Forces? What do you mean, forces? Who - what’s running this place?”

Hella’s heart drums against her ribs. From behind her, she can feel the dragon’s palpable anxiety and discontent. With Adeladie in front of and Temeraire behind, she feels agitated, confined, like an animal in too small of a cage. 

“Look,” she says. “Look, can we all just -” Hella breaks off, places a heavy but careful hand on Adeladie’s upper arm, as though to move her back a couple paces. Really, though, it’s almost an excuse to touch her, to check if she’s real. She feels as solid as anything, as present and alive as she was back in Nacre.

As she was when Hella killed her.

Hella lets her hand drop, as though the god-queen had proven to be too heavy to be budged. She glances down at Temeraire, a little embarrassed to have made that odd gesture.

“So you’re saying…you’re saying, you lost more than just possessions,” she mutters, speaking to the both of them. “What kind of a place is this?”

“It’s powerful, for it captures gods,” Adelaide says lightly. She is distracted from the conversation and immensely pleased with herself. Hella’s fingers are callused in a way utterly unlike hers. The contrast of that controlled strength is striking. The weight on her arm.

“And we get entertainments and trinkets.” Her eyes follow Hella’s to Temeraire, and she smiles ruefully at his witness to her ensnarement. From his pose, he wants to protect them both. He is a real peacemaker, for such a clawed and fanged creature! Between him and Hella, these are two unforgettable bodyguards. “But it is easier now with your captain here, isn’t it, Temeraire?”

Temeraire watches them carefully, and when it seems there won’t be any violence after all, he relaxes a minuscule amount, though he still wants to push between them. The tension between them is... strange, and he doesn’t understand it, and he can’t ask but he doesn’t very well like not understanding things. He shifts, then tips his head and considers both of them, back and forth, pupils wide.

Finally, he slides around behind Adelaide, brushing against her comfortingly, then settles at the opposite side from where he was, facing the both of them, backing neither and still ready to push between them if need be.

“I do not know who is in power here, but the communications come from the protocols, who I have been told are likely not people at all but machines like the train, perhaps? And yes, they did not take any possessions of mine, but... but the things that could have made me very dangerous, I think.” He cocks his head in the other direction, considering, then says, “But there is a great deal we simply do not know.”

And then his ruff perks, the long drooping whiskers to either side of his snout quivering with joy and excitement as his nostrils flare, and he says, “Yes! Yes, it is much easier when there is someone that you know, and I do not know how I could ever do without Laurence, truly. He is sometimes a little peculiar, but he is very smart and brave and kind. Oh- I hope that you can meet him, perhaps!”

And just like that, all of his tension is gone, replaced with the eager energy of a prancing puppy.

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

8ctoshot‌:

Eight doesn’t know what ‘the plague’ is, but if Temeraire’s said he’s had worse, Eight’s inclined to believe him. He pats Temeraire’s neck once more and then turns in the direction that’ll take them to Lampadias the fastest - it’s not a direct route, with how winding the roads in Tranquility tend to be, but it’s still quicker than doubling back towards the train station.

“Thank you for taking me out flying,” he says, after a few minutes of (relative) silence. “Even if, uh. It didn’t end so well. I appreciate it.” 

Temeraire huffs softly and nudges him in the side, and his face looks as if he might be smiling, if he could. “You are quite welcome,” he says, “and if you should like to go again, but perhaps lower and not out quite so far, I should be happy to take you again sometime. I enjoyed our flight. It is always nice, to have company up in the air, and there are no other dragons here that could go with me.”

Then he straightens and says, “But either way. For now, we will go back and the both of us will rest. I hope that I will see you again, even if we are not to go flying?”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

jovialcontrarian‌:

“Understandable, understandable. I had a bear fashion a mask for me recently– ah! There we are.” The Contrarian, finally having conquered the clasp, looked rather pleased with himself. 

“An Englishman, then! Excellent. As am I. We don’t usually use names in London anymore– not since the Fall, but I’m known as the Jovial Contrarian, recently elected Mayor of Fallen London. Charmed to make your acquaintance, of course.” He belatedly wonders if it is entirely appropriate to refer to a dragon as an English-‘man.’ Do dragons have a concept of gender?

Temeraire cranes his neck to look at the clasp, and when he determines it is secured well, he lowers his foreleg and sits down, pleased. “Oh, that lies very well, thank you,” he says, preening a little now that he has the bracelet on again properly. He shifts so that his foreleg is forward, shows it to the best advantage without being too obvious, ruff flaring in a distinct show of all of his glory.

“Oh? I have not met anyone else from England, but I have flown over London. I was not aware it was Fallen?” He thinks about that, tilting his head, then says, “I do not believe that it is, as Laurence would be quite unhappy with that, and I am sure that I would have heard about it. Perhaps it is a different London, then.” His eyes are bright with curiosity at the thought.

“Perhaps there are other things that are different, as well? You do not have dragons, do you? Most of the people here do not come from places that have dragons, you see.”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

glimmeringbone‌:

ordennan-steel‌:

Hella takes a long breath in through her nose. Exhales. Civil. She’s going to be civil. Maybe once she gets through this exceptionally weird day, she’ll go to sleep at night and wake up back in Samol’s house with her friends, like nothing ever happened. Maybe this is all just some elaborate dreamscape Adeladie’s cooked up, to tease her with. The level of detail seems a bit excessive, but Hella wouldn’t put it past her.

If that’s the case, it makes the friendly dragon an interesting touch.

On some level, though, Hella has a creeping suspicion that this is all frustratingly real and isn’t going to fix itself in an instant. She’s not quite ready to deal with that, though. Hanging onto the idea that it might all abruptly go back to normal is what’s keeping her sane, right now.

“Oh, did she?” Hella tries to lighten her voice, although the raise in pitch might just be making her sound even more unhinged. She relaxes her grip on her scabbard, but her eyes never leave Adelaide. “That was very nice of her. Maybe now she can help me, as well.”

Hella doesn’t doubt that Adelaide was going to come find her, nor does she believe for an instant that her presence at the station was coincidental. She wonders if even running into Temeraire wasn’t an accident. Hella’s learned by now that the more you try and distance yourself from the Queen of Death, the more persistent she becomes.

“Where’s my sword, Adelaide?” she asks. “What happened to it?”

Adelaide resists the impulse to sigh at Hella’s complete lack of response to her calculated pose. She steps forward, reaching to touch the hand on Hella’s scabbard. That hand is her only weapon, she reminds herself, and Hella will not raise it to her here. “The forces that run this place take weapons away. You have to win them back with good behavior. That shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

She meets Hella’s stare full-on. Her expression is difficult to read. “It took from me, too. I haven’t liked staying here.” Until now – echoes after, unsaid.

Oh. Temeraire’s ruff flattens right to his head as he watches the two of them, and even he can’t miss the undercurrent of tension running through Hella now, the way Adelaide meets her stare so directly. They’ve fought, then, and maybe they are still fighting? Adelaide doesn’t deem like she is, but Hella seems ready to. He shifts behind her anxiously, a low rumble starting in his belly- not a sound so much as a feeling, for now.

He sinks towards the ground slowly, less relaxation and more preparation to spring between the two of them, should it be needed.

“It’s true,” he says, more hesitant now- “When I first came, they had taken away my flight, and also I cannot use my Divine Wind anymore. My Laurence also had his sword taken away.”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

8ctoshot‌:

Eight wobbles a bit when Temeraire nudges him, slowly sliding off the dragon’s back and onto the path next to him. Solid ground feels amazing beneath his feet.

“Just a little bruised. I’ve had a lot worse, don’t worry.” He absently pats Temeraire’s neck, twisting around to look behind them. The trees are much different from the ones they’d just walked through - the bark (that’s what you call what a tree’s made out of, right?) is a different colour, and the gap is a lot wider than the one they’d squeezed through. The forest past them looks a lot friendlier too; brighter and more green, birdsong echoing through the leaves.

“Weird,” Eight mutters. He braces himself against Temeraire and gets to his feet, a slow ache rolling around his front, and looks around. This is definitely the village - not too far from the train station, actually; he recognises the bent tree-branch-turned-bench down the road. He could’ve sworn they were way farther out when Temeraire had landed.

“Should we head ba- oh. Your stomach.” Even with his limited knowledge of anything not a fish, he can tell that Temeraire’s hurt. That must have been from catching him - Eight winces, suddenly ashamed. That was his fault. “Are you okay? Do you, uh - does your Laurence know how to fix it?”

Temeraire rears his head back, then arches his neck down to look underneath him, trying to get a good view of his stomach. Well- well. There’s definitely pale scratches along the banding of his belly, but it’ll fade soon enough. It aches now, but he thinks... it should be fine. It’s not a musket wound or a spiked cannon-ball blasted into his breastbone, so it shouldn’t need Keynes or anyone of the sort.

“No,” he says absently- “I mean, yes, I’m quite alright. No, Laurence is not a dragon medic, but it isn’t so bad as all of that- it will heal on its’ own.” He lifts his head again, less worried now himself that he’s seen it. “Do not fret- it’s only a scratch. I have had much, much worse. I have had the plague, you know, and also been shot badly. This is nothing at all.”

He shifts, then pushes himself up, ignoring the fact that he would like to lay down and sleep for about ten years, right now. “Yes- come, let us return. I am quite hungry now, and should like to find something to eat.”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

jovialcontrarian‌:

“Oh, of course. Not a problem” 

The situation the Contrarian found himself was utter lunacy, so what could he do but to play along? He moved to where the dragon indicated he should move and began the arduous work of trying to fasten all the fiddly bits of jewelry together. God, this is why he never wore the stuff. The various clasps being dragon-sized made the work easier, at least. 

“I must say, this is excellent craftsmanship, did you craft these yourself?” 

Temeraire perks at the compliment, lifting his head from where he was quite intently watching what the man was doing, in case he should make a mistake. “Oh, no,” he says, very modestly- “The bears made these for me. I did watch closely, though, and made suggestions, and the design was mine, for I should not like to wear something that did not look very nice.”

He wonders whether he ought to return the compliment in some way, but... well. Looking at the man, he is dressed, but not very nicely, and he hardly has anything like jewels or shining metals on.

Hm.

“My name is Temeraire, and I am from England, though my egg was from China,” he says instead, because he’s found that offering information makes it less awkward to ask for it in return, and the topic of where someone is from always comes up because Temeraire is incredibly curious about the variety of locations that seem to be represented in this place.

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

8ctoshot‌:

Eight does as he’s told, scooting forward a little to wrap his arms around Temeraire’s neck. The dragon’s fast pace is a little too fast for how sore he is, but the forest is…unnerving. He can handle the pain if it means getting back to the village before anything else unfortunate happens.

“It didn’t look like this from the sky,” Eight says after a few minutes. “And it’s not…weird…like this around where the train station or houses are, either.” He stops, unsure of what point he’s trying to make. It’s like what Marina was saying about the Metro - it was part of the deepsea, but under some sort of strong magnetic force that shifted it into another dimension. Maybe something similar was happening here?

The spaces between the trees get narrower and narrower and Eight starts to worry for Temeraire; soon, he won’t be able to squeeze through the trunks anymore. The gloom is getting deeper, too, and not even Eight’s night vision can pierce it - the shapes moving around deep within aren’t just in the corners of his eyes anymore, either, but moving closer. Almost directly behind them now. He tenses, getting ready in case they need to fight-

-and then they pass between two trees onto a well-lit path, the smell of some sort of freshly-baked pastry wafting towards them from a nearby shop. A bear passing by stops and clucks at them sympathetically. “Ran into a skunk, did you?”

For a moment, Temeraire stands perfectly still, breathing heavily, looking around for any sign of whatever was pursuing them in the forest- not that he couldn’t have fought whatever it was, of course, but he would have hated to see Eight get injured because of it. When he realizes it’s well and truly gone, he sinks down on jellied limbs, splaying right there on the path.

“A ‘skunk’?”

He cranes his head around to look at Eight, then, nudging him gently with his nose and asking, “Are you well?” worry clear in his voice- “You were not injured?”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

glimmeringbone‌:

ordennan-steel‌:

Hella almost doesn’t attach the voice to the person, at first, given she is so accustomed to hearing it disembodied. It takes her a moment to realize that the voice isn’t inside her head but is in fact coming from a direction, and, when she turns in that direction -

Adelaide Tristé, in the flesh.

The shock is cold, as though she’d plunged into icy water. Like a reflection of the void Hella had just traveled through to reach her, Adelaide is dressed all in black, with the miniature pearls studding her dress like stars. As though magnetically drawn by memory, Hella’s hand goes to her scabbard; in lieu of the hilt of a sword she curls her fingers around its empty sheath, staring stony-faced at Adelaide’s smirk. Someone exclaims the god-queen’s name first, though, and does it far too cheerfully to be Hella.

Hella stares in disbelief as Termeraire bounds forward, curling friendly and familiarly around Adelaide before returning to her side.The cold shock dissipates, slowly, thawed by a burning frustration as Hella realizes: As much as she’d like to scream, or threaten violence, or fall to her knees, she’s going to do none of those drastic, dramatic things. She’s instead going to have an agonizingly civil conversation with the woman she killed. 

Which is no doubt just how Adelaide wants it.

“I. Didn’t,” she says, gruff and halting, speared on god-queen’s smugness. “Know that. That you knew each other. Either.”

She presses her hand briefly on Temeraire’s side as he passes her by.

“It is a wonderful coincidence,” Adelaide says, glancing at Temeraire before lowering her eyelids to look at Hella. Hella is nearly as tall as he is. And her hand is around her scabbard, isn’t it. My, my. “I was going to find you.”

Adelaide moves subtly to show herself to best advantage.

Temeraire looks between them, wondering if they are from the same place- and why Hella seems so very unhappy to see Adelaide. Surely he’s imagining it though- perhaps it is simply that it has been some time since they’ve spoken? 

He feels a little curl of anxiety in his gut at the thought that his two friends might not like each other, but squashes it, sitting and curling his tail around Hella’s feet, like back-up, like reassurance.

“Adelaide helped me, when I first came, when I was very sad,” he says, almost plaintive. Oh, he hopes they are not unhappy with each other. That would be so very uncomfortable for everyone involved, but most especially for him.

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

ashininglion‌:

Is this a joke, Min almost blurts. Her eyes must be the size of saucers right now, trying to take in the whole of the dragon (D-R-A-G-O-N, dragon) sat in front of her. He - assuming it is a he, that is - is all over black, a gorgeous glossy black like he’s been dipped in lacquer, and the slit-pupilled eyes blinking in confusion at her are blue as the sky that he just looked up at. Whiskers, ruff, wings, tail - god, he really is a dragon, isn’t he?

She has got to stop staring like an idiot. “Sorry,” she says. “I - it’s a greeting, like, what’s up? What’s happening? What’ve you been up to lately? Not literally, um, what’s up.” She pauses. “You’re not a denizen, are you? Like, you’re the first dragon I’ve seen here. The first dragon I’ve ever seen, actually, we don’t have them in my world, wow, if you’re not a denizen I’m being super rude, aren’t I?”

The dragon still looks bewildered. Min can read the expressions on his face almost as well as if he were human. She brushes the dirt from her knees and stands up to reduce the height difference between them, and says, “Sorry. I’m Feng Min. It’s nice to meet you.”

Temeraire cocks his head and waits, very politely he thinks, for the woman to stop babbling. He may even tune her out a little, studying her features. She shares... she shares some characteristics with the Chinese women he met, when he and Laurence went to meet the Emperor, those women who rowed out in tiny boats to hold their babies up to him, begging him to bless them, to bring them luck, and he finds his ruff flaring a little, pupils narrowing in excitement.

He’s diverted by her question, though, and he replies, with admittedly a bit of a delay, “I do not think that you are being rude. It seems dragons are not common in many places- I have met many people who have been surprised by me, since I have been here.” He tries his best to look wise and unbothered, but the quivering of his whiskers give him away, as does the way he shifts his weight, like he would prance if he were standing upright.

“Hello, Feng Min.” He dips his head in an odd bow that snakes down his neck and ends with a little shiver at his shoulders, eyes bright. “I am not a denizen, I have been brought here from my world as you were from yours. My name is Temeraire.”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

8ctoshot‌:

Eight hasn’t answered yet when Temeraire begins to angle downwards. He opens an eye and sees the trees looming up - thankfully at a controlled speed this time, but still a little alarming, and his hands clench around the straps before he convinces himself to relax. Flying was…well, it was fun up until they’d reached the edge of the Sea, but he guesses octopuses evolved to be firmly ground-dwelling for a reason.

It’s not like he’s in a rush or anything, anyway.

The landing is smooth and Eight unpeels himself from Temeraire’s back, slowly moving his aching body to a sitting position. It’ll be a while yet before any actual bruising shows up, but his midriff and exposed arm are looking a little…pink.

“Do you want me to get off and walk for a bit so you…can…uh. Huh.” Now that they’re in the forest and not above it, Eight can see how…odd it is, compared to the inhabited parts of Tranquility. The gaps between the trees are narrower than he thought, and it’s dark - he can see pretty well in the dark, but something about the gloom is weird. Like it has a consistency or texture, somehow. He can almost make out shapes or lights in the corners of his eyes when he turns his head.

He’s seen some weird things in the abyss, but this - so soon after falling? Nope. No thanks.

“Actually I’m gonna stay right here. How fast can you walk?”

It’s not as if there are eyes in the darkness, so Temeraire can hardly account for the shudder that runs up his spine as he looks around, taking a tentative step forward. His ruff flattens to his neck, pupils wide to try in vain to get more light, and he thinks perhaps they should simply return to the sky- 

But when he looks up, the gap in the trees through which they came seems nowhere to be found, and he lets out a deep, low hiss of agitation, the sound serpentine.

“I fly better that I walk,” he admits, “but I shall move as quickly as I can. Please hold on tightly, and stay close to my back. I do not like the way this place feels.” True to his words, he sets off at a decent clip, perhaps a little faster than is strictly comfortable for his belly and legs. 

He does not want to be in this place any longer than he has to.

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

8ctoshot‌:

Eight wheezes out a little laugh at how formal Temeraire manages to sound, despite the circumstances. He gives the dragon another pat before risking scooting up a little, the flat pose he’d been in since the landing beginning to hurt a little. He’s definitely going to be bruised for a while, but he’s always healed pretty quickly. Some discomfort for a few days is much more preferable than being a sad puddle of ink on the forest floor.

“I…I think I’d like to be on solid ground sooner rather than later,” Eight says. “How far are we from the big tree?” They’re far enough from the curve of the bubble now that the sky is the sky again and not that featureless black void, but he still doesn’t really want to look up. Temeraire’s scales are black, but they don’t hold the same depth as the abyss. “You…you must be tired from all that too, right? I don’t want to keep you flying around after. Well.”

Temeraire huffs his amusement, and he says, “I am not quite tired, but I do not mind returning you. It will be as long as it took to get this far, in order to get back, however. Perhaps a matter of a quarter hour- or if you wish, we might return to the ground now, and simply walk the rest of the way, though that will take much longer.”

Walking would be... well. Uncomfortable at best, but Temeraire is more worried about Eight being so afraid that he loses consciousness, as some of his (now former) ground crew have managed on the few times they’ve been aloft. If he fell again... Temeraire’s not sure he’d be agile enough to catch him this time. In fact, he begins to dip down even as he speaks, thinking this may be the best course after all.

[ashininglion-blog]

@lungtienhsiang

The Ark is big. Like, really big. Like, last week Min spent an entire afternoon just scrolling through the contacts list on her holophone, reading names, glancing through pictures of octopus-headed kids and guys with metal jaws and a lot of really attractive women who are so out of her league. A couple new ones pop up every damn day, so Min hasn’t bothered keeping up with the list.

Which is why when she sees, you know, a horse-sized animal ambling leisurely through Tranquility’s woods while she’s grubbing around in the dirt, she doesn’t automatically assume it’s a fellow resident of the Ark. She thinks it’s a horse, at first, but it’s weirdly-coloured for that. She assumes then that it’s a denizen, a bear or like a really long owl, and she whistles at it. Pulls her gloved hand out of the seedbox and waves at it.

It turns around and shakes its head at her, starts tromping over to her. Min’s mouth drops open, and keeps dropping as it approaches. That’s not a bear. Or an owl. Or a horse. “What the fuck,” she mouths, at the ground in case it can read lips. You never know.

“Hi,” she says louder, bright and forced. To the fucking dragon. “Hi! Hello! What’s up?”

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

The whistle grabs Temeraire’s attention, and draws his curiosity. He knows that it was him being whistled at, because when he looks up and cocks his head, the person who made the sound is waving at him. Clearly, she wishes for his attention, though he does not think he recalls having met her before this very moment. How curious.

Well. There’s no reason to be rude, and so he changes his course and ambles in her direction, curiosity spiking when she looks at the ground before looking back up at him.

He sits in front of her, very dignified, and curls his tail around himself, showing himself to his best advantage. His ruff flares, his chin tipped just so- he thinks he must look very majestic. At least, he hopes he does.

“Hello,” he responds, before looking up, wondering what she could be referring to. “.... I do not see anything,” he admits, ruff flattening a little, uncertain- could he have missed something?

[lungtienhsiang-blog]

jovialcontrarian‌:

“Yes, of course. How can I–” The Contrarian turns his head to reply and Good Lord that’s a dragon. It’s not a particularly existentially shocking sight, considering the Neath was home to all sorts of creatures, but it’s still surprising.

He almost says, like an absolute buffoon You’re a dragon. Well yes? Obviously! There’s little chance a dragon wouldn’t be aware that they were, in fact, a dragon. 

“Ah, sorry about that, you rather startled me. How can I be of assistance?” 

The look of startled bewilderment on the man’s face is one Temeraire has grown used to, in his time here. He barely pays it any real attention, busy as he is with the wash of relief that comes over him. Laurence is, of course, never far, but to disturb him just for this... well. That, and he would ask how Temeraire’s bracelets got so horridly mangled, and he might note the pale scrapes on his belly, and then he would worry so, and Temeraire would feel so terribly guilty...

He lifts the clawed foot holding the chains that wrap around the holophone and train pass, then uncurls his claws to reveal them.

“You see,” he starts, voice like a low thrum, “I am having quite some trouble fastening my chains-” oh, he doesn’t like the way that sounds at all, and he quickly backpedals, shifts gears, ruff flattening- “my... bracelets about my foreleg. My teeth would rather mangle them, and my claws are not nimble enough, and too large besides. If you could simply aid me in putting them back on, I would be ever so grateful.”