CW: Contains psychological abuse, captivity, emotional manipulation, intimidation, bone injury, burns, dislocation, panic, trauma, dehumanization, fear and helplessness, tiny human abuse, threats and intimidation, references to torture and death, and disturbing themes.
When Sophia opened her eyes, the sun was in the sky, surrounded by small clouds. She felt a sense of relief that she didn’t have to see everything through the metal bars that captured her. She remembered the events of the previous night clearly, as she had spent the entire night dreaming.
She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Gregor was not there, and the house was silent. She looked around and was surprised by what she saw inside the cage. Her water container was full, and some toast and cheese had been placed for her. Since she had thrown up everything she ate the night before, she felt a strong hunger. Although it was strange to her why Gregor had left the food in the cage, perhaps he wanted to remind her that she had to stay there.
She got up and went to the cage, stepping inside. Since she was starving, she ate all the bread and cheese quickly, even though it was far more than her usual portions. When she was full, she wiped around her mouth and drank some water. Then she sat there in the cage, leaning against the bars. She didn’t know when Gregor would return. At that moment, a tempting thought occurred to her. Perhaps she could look around, to see if there was a way to save herself.
Of course, she knew how dangerous that could be. She had tried to escape once and had seen the consequences. So now she needed to just assess the situation. She couldn’t act recklessly.
She put on her clothes and carefully stepped out of the cage. The burn ointment on her body had dried, peeling off in some areas. The burn marks still hurt, but thinking that she might not get another opportunity like this, she convinced herself to continue.
The dining table, unlike the kitchen table, didn’t have a tablecloth. Therefore, she couldn’t slide it off onto the floor. Even if there had been one, with her physical condition, she wouldn’t have been able to do it.
She started walking toward the other side of the table, which was surrounded by four chairs, still too high to jump onto the chairs. Beyond that, the chairs themselves were taller than she could manage to get down to the floor. She sighed and turned around, but when she saw what was in front of her, an idea came to mind: a box of tissues.
If she could throw it onto a chair and jump onto it, the height would be reduced, and the softness of the tissues would prevent injury from the impact. But she didn’t know how heavy a box of tissues that large could be.
She went over and began pushing it. It was heavier than she expected, but with great effort, she could move it. She continued pushing and slowly brought it closer to the edge of the table.
Suddenly, she heard a sound from the entrance door. Gregor had returned. Panicking, she pushed the box back to its original place and ran to the cage, sitting in a corner. Her heart was racing.
At that moment, Gregor entered the living room. He hung his car keys on the keychain and took off his coat. Sophia knew the danger had passed right under her nose.
When his eyes fell on the cage, he said nothing and went to his room. Sophia remained sitting in the corner, knees pulled to her chest.
A few minutes later, Sophia heard the sound of the shower turning on. She exhaled the breath she had been holding and lay down on the cage floor. She thought about what might have happened if she had been caught while trying to escape. Perhaps Gregor hadn’t hurt her yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Sophia thought, "He’s unpredictable."
After about fifteen minutes, Gregor came out of the bathroom wearing a towel robe. He entered the kitchen, drying his hair, and poured himself some orange juice. Sophia had moved to another corner and remained there, waiting. She preferred to be ignored all day, as if she didn’t exist at all. But what Gregor was doing wasn’t just ignoring her; he was deliberately acting indifferent to keep her in fear. Especially since Sophia had done something forbidden, and all this time she had been waiting for Gregor to notice and punish her. She had learnt that in Victor’s house.
After drinking his orange juice, he stood up and went back to his room. A few minutes later, he came out wearing a shirt and pants. He stood in front of the mirror, straightened his tie. After he combed his hair and put on his suit, he strapped his watch to his wrist, and picked up his suitcase. Then, without even glancing at Sophia, he left the house.
Sophia watched him go, dazed and speechless. The cage was still open, and she couldn’t understand his behavior. The day before, she hadn’t even been allowed a single moment outside the cage, not even during dinner. That she was suddenly shown a hint of mercy by Gregor was as unexpected as being forgiven by Victor. She saw none of these traits in either of them.
She decided not to leave the cage until she was certain Gregor had really left. Even though the cage was open, and technically she could at least sit outside it, she didn’t want to take the risk. She remembered how tired and irritable Gregor had been when he came home from work the night before.
For about an hour, she stayed seated on the floor of the cage. Occasionally, she shifted or got up to pace, but she would sit back down. When she was sure Groger wouldn’t return anytime soon, she stepped out. She had to do whatever needed to be done before nightfall.
She went back to the box of tissues and gathered all her strength to start pushing it. When the box reached the edge of the table, she stood on it to check the height again. If her estimate was wrong, the attempt would leave nothing but a trail of failed efforts, and she would be punished for something she had not even done.
She took a deep breath and pushed the box slowly. It really was heavy and pushing it took more time than her previous effort. When it landed squarely on the chair, Sophia exhaled in relief. She swallowed and took a few steps back, then ran forward and jumped from the edge of the table.
The impact on the layers of tissues hurt more than she expected, but it was cushioned enough that she wasn’t injured. For a few minutes, she lay there on the tissues, exhaling. She stared at the ceiling, knowing there was no turning back from the path she had taken.
Eventually, she stood up, stepped off the box, and onto the chair seat. She looked down from the edge again. She doubted she had judged the chair’s height correctly, since it was tricky from the table.
She sat on the edge for quite a long time, thinking whether it was safe to jump from the height or not. Of course she didn't want to lose her only opportunity, but it would be useless if she couldn't get down unharmed.
It was at that moment that she realized how much time she had been wasting, especially now that it was getting dark and she could no longer see clearly. Not only had all the pushing and jumping slowed her down, but so had constantly stopping to decide whether it was safe to move forward.
She had no choice. She couldn’t just sit there until Groger returned and saw her, doing whatever he pleased to her. She pushed the tissue box toward the chair’s edge again. When it reached the edge, she paused, then pushed it forward with all her strength. The box hit the floor with a loud thud, a sound that startled Sophia. Not because it was terrifying, but because it proved the height was greater than she had estimated. Beyond that, she couldn’t tell which way the box had landed. If it had landed as before, she could have fallen onto the tissues and lessened the impact. But if it had flipped the other way, landing on it could break her bones.
Sophia sat on the edge, bent over, but as the evening darkened and all the lights in the house were off, she couldn’t see anything. She had to make a choice: risk jumping onto the solid, unyielding box, or stay put until her captor returned.
She knew in the first option, there was a chance of escape. The second… she didn’t even want to consider it. It had been only last night that she told herself she would in no way try to escape, and this morning she told herself she would just take a look. But now she was right in the middle of it. There was no turning back. She took a deep breath and decided to jump, before the house got so dark that she couldn’t even see the floor, aiming to land at least on the box itself, not a little beyond it on the hard ground.
“Three… two… one…”
When she jumped off the edge of the chair at the count of one, she felt as if she were falling straight into death. In the darkness, she could only make out shadows of the objects around her: the table, the chairs, and the tissue box.
Crunch.
Her leg landed with a loud crunch on the box. There were no soft layers of tissue beneath her. She screamed in pain, and her cry echoed throughout the house.
The tissue box had landed upside down, and instead of falling onto the soft tissues, Sophia had hit the hard surface of the box itself.
“FUCK!”
She screamed loudly and began crying from the pain. Her whole body ached, and she couldn’t even move her leg an inch. Everywhere had become dark until then, and her eyes could see nothing.
Her face was soaked with tears. Her body trembled, and she panted heavily. She was certain her leg was broken, but what terrified her even more than the fracture or the impact was her inability to move. If Gregor returned and saw her like this, he would find out she had tried to escape, and she could in no way deny it.
She tried to pull herself onto the box and move, but the pain in her leg intensified, and she groaned loudly again.
“Fuck it… I can’t… I can’t move…”
Time passed slowly. Sophia kept taking deep breaths, letting painful moans escape her lips. Her limbs trembled, and she felt like she was burning in a fever. She didn’t know how much time she had, but it didn’t matter. Even if she had enough time, there was no way she could move.
She was regretful, regretful for having done such a foolish thing. If she could turn back time and sit in her cage like a good girl, waiting for Groger to return, she would have done it.
After countless minutes, or perhaps hours, she heard a sound. The key turned in the lock, and the door opened. Slow but firm footsteps shook the floor. Sophia swallowed hard. The overhead lamp flicked on. From beneath the table, she could see Gregor’s shoes approaching the table. He stopped when he reached it, and Sophia pressed her hand over her mouth. She could hear the cage being moved across the tabletop.
Gregor paused briefly, then continued walking, circling the table. His shadow moved across the floor, coming closer to her.
She looked up at him.
Here he was, standing like a skyscraper, staring down at her as drowning her in his shadow. Moments stretched endlessly.
After a few moments, he pulled back the chair next to the fallen tissue box and sat down, placing his foot near the box. Every few seconds, he stomped lightly on the floor, and with each thud, Sophia felt her soul momentarily leave her body and return. From the floor, she felt smaller and more helpless than ever. She knew every action of Gregor’s was a reminder of his power. Between his shoe and her frail body, there was only a slight distance. At any moment, he could smash her underfoot, but he didn’t. He terrified her and pushed her to the brink of madness, but he didn’t kill her. He leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on his leg as he looked at the empty cage, the other on the back of the chair.
After what felt like an eternity, he bent down and picked up the tissue box. Sophia let out a scream at the sudden movement, but he didn't care. He tilted the box on the table, and she rolled, falling onto it. The moment her leg hit the table, a scream of pain escaped her mouth. Gregor, indifferent, pulled his cigarette pack from his pocket and lit one.
Sophia lifted her head, only for him to blow the cigarette smoke toward her, making her cough. The air around her was filled with smoke, but more than anything, even more than the pain in her leg, what tormented her was Gregor’s silence. His gaze was cold and merciless. Sophia thought he was torturing her in his mind a thousand ways; killing her, reviving her, and killing her again.
He wasn’t angry, or at least, that’s how it seemed. He blinked slowly, his hollow dark eyes fixed on her tiny figure. Each time he exhaled cigarette smoke toward her and watched her coughing, a smirk would appear at the corner of his lips, only for him to quickly suppress it again. He flicked the ashes of his cigarette over Sophia’s head, and she screamed as the hot ash landed on her skin. It wasn’t just the pain, she felt humiliated.
Still, if this were all the punishment Gregor had planned for her, she would have accepted it wholeheartedly. But she doubted that Gregor would be satisfied so easily or let it go.
When he finished his cigarette, he brought it toward Sophia’s face, as if to put it out on her skin. She hid her head in her hands, whimpering hoarsely, “No… please don’t…I made a mistake…”
Hearing that, Gregor laughed and stubbed out his cigarette on the table.
“So you know what you did.”
Sophia lifted her head and nodded vigorously. Gregor leaned toward her, his tone dangerously calm, “Then you should also know that every mistake has its consequences.”
The color drained from her face instantly, leaving her chalk-white. She held out her hands in supplication, “Please forgive me… just… just once! I promise… I swear… I’ll never… never try to escape again…” She sobbed. She hated being so helpless and pathetic, yet it was the only way to survive.
Gregor narrowed his eyes.
“Just once? Don’t you think your ‘once’ already passed? Have you forgotten I saved you from Victor?”
Sophia shook her head and continued pleading, “Please forgive me! It was just a mistake…and…”
She couldn’t even finish her sentences, her fear too overwhelming. The pain in her leg grew with every moment, and blisters were starting to form over her burns. Gregor waited. He wanted to hear her words. Whether they were pleas, excuses, or anything else, he enjoyed hearing them. He wanted to see how a pitiful creature like her tried to save herself from the trouble she had caused.
Unable to move her right leg, Sophia leaned on her other knee, hands still clasped in supplication. Since the day she had opened her eyes in Victor’s house, there hadn’t been a single day she hadn’t cried from fear or pain. Not a day she hadn’t wished for death. But every time she got close, or found a chance to escape, thinking it would delay her death but in reality hastening it, her survival instinct took over.
Gregor leaned back, then reclined, casting a contemptuous glance at her.
“If Victor had gotten his hands on you, he would’ve made you beg him to end your life. Just like how you’re sitting in front of me now, begging me not to harm you, you would’ve begged him to finish everything.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a sarcastic smile. “Though he wouldn’t have even let you plead. You’ll never understand what a terrifying fate you were saved from.”
Then, as if he had just realized something, he raised an eyebrow and added, “Of course, that is, if you don’t go back there again.”
Sophia froze at those words. She heard nothing anymore. Nothing but Victor’s whistle, the same one he used when torturing and killing them. She felt like he would appear from somewhere at that moment, grab her, and take her to his kitchen. She looked around Gregor’s house, then at him. Was he only threatening her? Or was this really the punishment he had planned?
Sophia knew that whatever decision he made, she couldn’t resist it. She was small and defenseless; even a spider could threaten her life. Yet Gregor was not the kind of man who only sought to torment her, and Sophia knew it. She knew he was different from Victor, and she had to do everything she could to reason with him and change his mind, no matter how or at what cost.
She had cried so much that her eyes had dried out. She had screamed so much that her vocal cords had given out. Her voice barely came out, and she swallowed with difficulty. She looked at Gregor, staring into his eyes. She wanted to see her own reflection in them again, this time, broken, helpless, and pitiful.
Gathering all her strength, she whispered softly, “I… I thought… I could do it.” She paused and lowered her head.
“Go on.” He nodded.
Sophia lifted her head again. Speaking those words was painful, an admission of her weakness and helplessness in the face of absolute power.
“Just like… the last time.”
She paused again and took a deep breath. Gregor waited as she went on, “Every time… I thought I could do it. Because Once, I truly could.”
Gregor kept listening in silence.
“There… my mistake killed someone. A… painful death. That’s never happened before… never,” she took a deep breath, “my mistakes were always fixable. Back then, they were only as big as… I was.”
She swallowed and looked at Gregor. She couldn’t read anything from his face, but her words weren’t finished.
“Here… my mistakes are bigger than… me. Here… I can’t carry them.”
Her breath grew heavy. She felt immense pressure on her chest as she struggled to continue. “But… I… I don't…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Saying what she felt inside was too difficult. She didn’t know how Gregor would react.
Finally, she steeled herself and finished her words, “I just…don’t wanna die…”
As she said it, tears streamed down her face again. She wiped them with her hands, but they continued to fall on her cheeks.
After hearing her words, Gregor simply stared at her, “So you and Victor agree, then.” He said briefly.
“What?” Sophia, not expecting that remark, asked involuntarily.
Gregor took a deep breath and brought his hand near her. He ran his fingertip through her hair, still covered in cigarette ash, and let the ash fall onto the table as he replied, “Victor didn’t want you to die either, little one. He wanted you to survive as much as possible, and suffer.”
Sofphia shook her head in disbelief, “But I don’t-”
Gregor interrupted her, “I know. You don’t wanna suffer. It's not about death.”
While running the tip of his finger along her spine, feeling her trembling beneath his touch, he continued, “You think I killed your little friend out of cruelty, when in fact, I did it a favor.”
Sophia looked away. Even recalling what Gregor had said the night before at dinner made her nauseous.“I don’t understand.” She whispered.
Gregor pressed the tip of his finger against her neck and pushed forward. Sophia couldn’t resist and bent her neck.
“What Victor wanted to drag out for hours, I finished in an instant. At first, I didn’t intend to do it, but when I saw it at the last moment, looking at me pleadingly, I decided to grant its final request,” he said, pressing further, as if to play with her.
Sophia raised his head slowly as he withdrew his finger.
“She… wanted to die?”
“It couldn’t be anything else.” he shrugged.
Sophia realized that Gregor did not grant a being like her the right to live. The desire to survive, even under harsh and painful conditions, was something she had experienced countless times. But he believed that suffering justified ending a life. He thought that since death brings an end to suffering, the wish of someone in torment must be for death itself, not merely an escape from pain.
It was at that moment that she realized why both he and Victor always used “it” when referring to Karen. They saw no reason to refer to her as a human.
Even though Gregor seemed to see them as living things who were able to comprehend, he didn't bother to consider them as humans. The realization filled her with even more humiliation.
“Of course, not just anyone, but tiny humans like me.”
Hearing that, Gregor cocked a brow. Sophia immediately realized she had spoken her thoughts out loud by mistake. She lifted her head with hesitation. If Gregor thought by killing Karen he had spared her from suffering, then why didn't he do the same to her? Why didn't he kill Sophia according to the same logic, instead of leaving her alive and bringing her to his house, imprisoning her?
This question crossed Sophia’s mind for a moment, though the pain in her leg didn’t allow her to think coherently. She just placed her hand on her leg and groaned from the pain. Gregor, who had noticed the abnormal state of her leg from the very beginning, decided to take a look. He reached toward Sophia’s leg and used his fingernail to pull up her pants. Her right leg was severely bruised and swollen. Veins were protruding, and her knee looked dislocated.
“I thought your leg was broken, but it seems to be dislocated.”
He reached toward the cage and dragged it across the table toward himself. Sophia, realizing what he intended, wanted to complain, but Gregor continued, “I’d planned a harsher punishment for what you did, but now I think this is enough. Whenever I feel you’ve learned from your mistake, I’ll give you painkillers.”
Without waiting any longer, he lifted Sophia, making her scream. He placed her in the cage, and closed the door. Sophia, in immense pain from the pressure on her leg, could not resist. She lay down on the floor of the cage as she cried softly.
Gregor ignored her, leaving the cage where it was, and went to his room to change clothes. When he returned, he went straight to the kitchen without paying attention to her, and the sounds from the previous night began again. Sophia had heard those sounds so many times in Victor’s kitchen that she could no longer ignore them. Whenever she heard chopping, she imagined living bodies being cut, and whenever the gas was lit, she pictured a human suffering on the giant pan. She tried to push those images out of her mind but couldn’t. The sounds of screams and wails merged with the clinking of utensils. Despite all this, she tried to maintain control. Apart from not wanting the previous night to repeat, she didn’t have the energy to run or thrash around physically.
When Gregor prepared his food, he dried his hands with an apron and went to the cage, lifting it and taking it to the kitchen. Sophia noticed he was moving the cage with unusual caution. She thought, “He doesn’t have the patience to put up with my little tantrums any longer."
That thought made her chuckle for a moment. It seemed that just as she could barely tolerate Gregor’s presence, he couldn’t stand hearing her screams and sudden shouts either. The difference was, she couldn’t avoid him, but he could easily silence her. She reminded herself of the previous night, when Groger punished her by describing how he had killed Karen, only because he was angered by what he considered her meaningless behavior.
“I didn’t think a creature like you could get lost in thought.”
Sophia snapped back to herself, realizing she had been staring at her water container for a considerable time. Gregor had poured some of his food for her. Without saying anything, she bent down in the cage and picked up a seasoned mushroom he had left for her. She didn’t want to admit it, but the taste of cream and fresh basil reminded her of her mother’s cooking.
Gregor continued eating. He plunged his fork into the mushrooms and cut his bloody steak with a knife. When Sophia ate the mushroom, she reached for the small piece of steak he had left her. She loved her mother’s bloody steaks, but now the circumstances were different. She now recoiled at the sight of blood, so she left the steak on the cage floor. Since she couldn’t walk, she crawled to her water dish to drink some water. Gregor, busy with his own meal, didn’t pay attention to the fact she hadn’t eaten the steak.
After finishing his meal and clearing the table, he lifted the cage again and placed it on the dining table. Then he turned off the lamps and went to his bedroom.
When Sophia was sure he wouldn’t return, she took a deep breath. She had endured a difficult day. Sophia knew he was not a merciful person, but she felt that when she had spoken to him with her pitiful and pleading tone about her life and mistakes, he had felt some pity and therefore spared her from further punishment. Otherwise, when she saw him standing over her tiny body, she felt like she was about to be crushed to death. That was truly the fate she had expected.
Despite the pain she felt throughout her body, she felt a small sense of relief deep down that she had the chance to speak. Unlike Victor, Gregor heard her words, even her pleas. That’s why he had reduced her punishment. He had seen how remorseful and regretful Sophia was and had given her a second chance. She was certain she could never ask Victor for such a thing, since he was always looking for an excuse to punish those he had imprisoned in the kitchen drawers. He brought them there to torment them, in the first place. But Sophia didn’t think Gregor had the same intentions.
On the first day, she had many doubts and feared Gregor might be like Victor, after all, he was his friend. But he was different. Maybe he enjoyed watching her mental struggle with herself and her pathetic efforts to survive; maybe he had deliberately scared her and wouldn't hesitate to harm her if he found it necessary, but he didn’t do these things purely for pleasure. Sophia thought Gregor wanted to understand them better. He wanted to know how long she could endure and how long she would cling to life. Of course he liked it, and sometimes was surprised, just like Sophia herself who lived it, suffered from it, and was always terrified!
She closed her eyes and wished to see her family in her dreams, unaware that from this moment on, her life would be intertwined with the worst nightmares.
And one of those nightmares was being awake. That night, Sophia didn’t sleep a single moment. She cried all night from the pain in her leg, holding her hand over her mouth so that Gregor wouldn’t hear her and wake up. All night, she pressed against the bars of her cage in agony, wishing that the next day he would give her some painkillers.
She stared into the darkness that had swallowed her, sometimes hallucinating whether the pressure she felt on her chest was from her pain or if someone was pressing on it. Sometimes she imagined hearing a whistle, or the wailing of a poor woman.
And that night, for the first time, she thought that Karen’s final wish hadn’t been to be saved and survive, but truly to die. A quick, painless death.
Oh, the captain. Chris rushed back to the window, eyes falling on the gleaming iron of his suit. He stood proud and tall, eyes scanning over his troupe. She watched with interest as he stalked to one side of the gathered troops, long, black hair falling over his shoulders.
Captain Damian was an older man, around her father’s age. His beard, once a thick, black mass was now dappled with white. She smiled, remembering when he was just a knight, when he guarded her tower years ago. His kind, gentle voice when he told stories of his battles. His deep shout when he caught her trying to sneak out. As he spoke, Damian’s gaze fell to the window. The sharp blue softened. She offered a wave, and didn’t miss his nod. Damian walked along the other side of the troops, and with a resounding “yes sir!”, they filed out of the town gates.
Chris remained at the window for some time, watching the courtyard bustle. At one point, something caught her eyes. A woman. By her outfit, a baker, though that wasn’t what caught her eye. Tied in her hair was a piece of one of the ribbons he kept tied to his armor. Her eyes widened, and she squinted to study the woman. Blonde, short, though she couldn’t glean much else. Fascinated, she leaned out.
There was a low growl from above the princess. She glanced up, glaring up at the blue draconic gaze staring down at her.
Yer gettin’ cocky, kiddo, the booming voice echoed in her mind. She snorted at the dragon
“Oh stop, I’m just looking-“
Heard tha’ b’fore. Yer na’ convincin’ me.
Snorting again, she gazed back down into the courtyard. He was right. Last time she’d leaned too far out from the window, she’d fallen and sprained her ankle. Her father had nearly given Kellian a lashing after that… She propped her hands on her chin.
“…Sorry,” she sighed.
Aye…me too, the dragon’s voice softened.
The king’s arrangement had done more damage than the good he’d promised. She was safe, and the mighty dragon who had done no wrong was controlled. Chris supposed that was all her father wanted. Kellian hadn’t been in his human form in months, and Chris hadn’t left the castle without an escort in just as long. Both trapped in their own rights with no means to leave.
Author’s note: Finally back to writing again!! This is a prompt from the 50 prompts list I’ve been tinkering with! Based in an au with @voreasaurusrex ‘s Kellian, and my gal Chris! I’ve missed writing au stories so much… 😭
Chris longed for the days of their youth, when her mother would laugh and smile as the princess and the dragon ran in the halls, then down to the rivers and streams deep in the forest. Though he wasn’t blood, mother referred to him as her son. Chris always referred to Kellian as her brother. That still held true. She wasn’t the only one hurting. Kellian missed the queen just as much as she did.
She glanced up, softening as well. “Do you want to come inside for a bit?”
Nah, yer father wants me uppin’ my patrols now. Kellian shifted, his claws scraping against the rocks of the tower. I’ll be leavin’ tomorrow t’look over the east border. Can’t sleep in, he’ll have m’skin.
“Oh…” Chris wilted. “I…be careful.” She leaned out so she could look up to the dragon. He was watching the horizon, his black spines shining a crimson in the light of the sunset.
I will, Kellian chuffed quietly. His head turned to peer down at her.
She smiled, then looked back to the courtyard. The normal hustle and bustle overtook the Chris blinked. Damian had returned back from his patrol early. Chris ducked back, watching him curiously.
What’re ya’ lookin’ at?
Chris shushed the drumming voice, earning an indignant snort.
Why’re ya’ shushin’ me fer? Yer th’only one-
“Because, I’m focusing and I can’t hear out loud and in my head at the same time!” She hissed, waving a hand in the dragon’s direction.
Another snort, but Kellian fell quiet. Chris watched in awe as Damian made a beeline towards the baker’s stall. The baker stepped out and around. That’s when Chris noticed the bouquet of flowers in Damian’s hand. The baker took the flowers with a smile Chris swore she could hear. She smiled. Good for Damian…
Well? Ye gonna spill?
Chris rolled her eyes with a chuckle, shoving back at the massive snout that craned around to peek in at her. Kellian’s breath puffed against her as he chuffed again. C’moooon Chrissy… I wanna know!
“I’ll tell you, you overgrown lizard-!” She laughed, “Just-back up a little so I can see!”
Kellian huffed, but moved, resting his head next to her window. She gestured to the courtyard, detailing the scene of Damian courting the baker in the courtyard. Kellian scanned the courtyard, his head tilting. Chris caught his nose twitching.
That’s Claire, he rumbled. Nice lady. Leaves sweets on her booth fer me sometimes…
“Claire…hm,” Chris nodded. “I think I’ve heard that name…”
Aye…they’re sweet.
“Mh-hmm.”
The courtyard was quiet now. Most of the vendors were packing away their shops, headed home before night fell. Chris sighed, eyes moving to the sky. The stars stared back, peeking out from behind the scattered clouds.
Y’know…b’fore I go, maybe we could go to the woods.
Chris leaned out of the window. Kellian’s gaze was on the sky. Nodding, she hoisted herself into the window, allowing her feet to dangle as she sat on the sill.
“I’d like that.”
If you’ve read this far thank you so much!!! Please consider reblogging and/or commenting, it does mean a lot ;;
He is a fucking war machine. Do we, as the HSR fandom even realize what this means? The thing has bloody missiles coming out of his back like fireworks on an NYE! He is able to withstand great damage and time corrosion (as literally stated in the game... unless it's a team of wild teens and adults who were pissed on a bunch of metal-). He is built like a fucking tank.
First, his height is easily comparable to Lady Dimitrescu. I mean, have you seen the damn thing? It's massive not only by height, but his build is very, how we humans say, "muscly", but there is no muscle, only titanium alloy and bolts... and nuts... As we can see, Clara, who is aproximatively 1,63 meters (she's taller than me what the fuck-) barely reaches over his crotch, which gives us the idea Svarog is about double her height at least. Let's say 2,50 meters, because it seems most relevant. And quite logic. So buddy falls a little bit under Lady D’s height.
Anyway, as a dormant relic, he most likely was left in the underground mine by the Architects for the later humans to discover him and get use of then's thechnology. They thought that Belobog would actually get more technologized after their decline, oh how wrong they were. Now, don't get me wrong, after seeing how other places are on Jarilo VI, Belobog is one of the most advanced places with their trams and guns that they use, it's just not as much as the Architects expected of the place to become. And something tells me it has to do with the separation between the overworld and the underground. Maybe, just maybe, separating the main city from the mines which literally give you the materials ain't a good idea.
And Svarog knew that. He just wanted to perserve things as is, to not risk getting humanity to whipe itself out with some damned crazy inventions, as he saw in the past with the architects. He, even as a robot feels emotion, that much is known. (we can conclude this from what Clara says in her hangout "many vergants see them as pets, but i believe they have feelings like us to [...] like Mr. Svasrog here").
Speaking of emotions, the strongest he feels is about Clara and protecting her. As she was the one that found him in the snow and reactivated him, his internal processor viewed her as his creator, as the one that he should obey every command of. Clara, on the other hand just wanted a family, and so Svarog only listens to that command. He's not a mindless tool, but he prioritiseses this before anything else. Par example, if he had to choose between attending Clara’s first ballet class and saving the world, guess what he will do? Good answer: both. But he will first be close to his dancing baby girl.
Scaring us by no means a violent man, or machine, but when put face to face with the destruction of his home as he knows it, he will pick up a fight. His home is his most important mission, providing a family for Clara, so of course he will freak of and fight the Wild Fires. It’s normal if you think about it. What isn’t normal, however…. Is his boss fight in the Simulated Universe. But that one has its own place in another day’s discussion.
