Shattered Masks and Horrid Memories
The rain was quiet and cool. Pattering against glass and stone and the barracks roof so far overhead.
It also fell onto bare shoulders, fit and broad and well tanned. The shoulders of a beast walking through a village that had done nothing to deserve such a curse as its presence.
Volzarion walked with the same unhurried bravado as a god surrounded by nothing but ants with his eyes ahead and the barest threat of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. The mix of dyed black and amber skirt with cobalt accents swished with the passing of his legs hidden beneath and only offered the subtlest periodic hint at the fact he was wearing heavyset armored boots.
He'd brought the child out to work her magic as part of his project, but with the slowly approaching heavy rain from the northern sea he had called their endeavor short for the day and had tried to bring her "home". The puddles were unsatisfying so far, but at the base of the hill from the barracks he'd told her that she was free to do as she pleased, and that he was going to go speak to Eragios before offering the wyrmling his hand. One very slight bow, and a gesture of putting his forehead to her knuckles, and then he turned to leave her to whatever devices she wished.
His entry into the barracks was met with deathly silence from the mortal that witnessed him, and finally a performative knock at the great elfwyrm's lair before he allowed himself inside immediately. The slight dampness of his walk literally steaming off of him in faint wisps as he entered the room and began to slowly dry himself, "I never did remember to ask, dark wood seems prudent to avoid staining but light wood has character easier to notice… What do you think?"
"Cedar," the Hyalomancer announced simply, not looking up from the mortar and pestle they busily ground what appeared to be a gold coin to dust in.
Eragios was not so catatonic as they had been, and moreover at some point has once again fixed their mask back into place, the defiance of their red hair against any blue blood on their veins and the world deprived of the light show their horns cast upon the walls of the small office. A cane leaned against the desk next to them and a small violet spider sat motionless on their desk, projecting a small window into what appeared to be a part of Suramar.
"Perhaps the red kind, I always thought it was aesthetically pleasing, the sort that grows in the Hinterlands." They paused, finally looking up from the metallic grinding, the green of their eye looking so much more alien than it ever had before, "Though, that's if you are asking my to be picky. I will not be hindered by aesthetics overmuch. I didn't take you for the kind to be chased indoors by rain, Volzarion."
"The rain is hardly my concern. Attempting to keep your daughter on task while frogs begin to chirp in the shrubbery on the other hand…" he let the lead die there before he strode across the room to stand before the desk and looked down his nose at the spider, then the pestle, "Interesting new accommodations. It seems you've been busy in the last few days. Care to monologue about your projects?"
Era followed his gaze to the 8 legged freak, "Ah, a gift from Nandrix. They worried I was lonely here, unwilling to leave how I was. It helped pass the time while I remade scrolls." New bands flickered around Era's arms, one perfecting its stage timing and corroding away to fall to the floor, its magic spent, as it was mentioned. Eragios sighed, "I am.. Still experimenting with replicating the pigments I once found so easily in Dalaran, and am limited to the quality of vellum I am able to procure here in Ruthren."
"Can I help you with something? Or do I detect an amount of concern evident in your recurring visits?"
"If I was honest with you then you would boil yourself alive in rage so instead let us agree that the longer you are barricaded in a hole of your own misery and frantic work the more agitated Tarrastrazsa remains because of her worry."
His hand lifted and he waved it gently in front of the odd arachnid to see if it responded. He was no master of the arcane so far as he knew it could as easily be a familiar as it was a living thing.
The mana-wrought construct did not react. Its job was to project an image and maintain a connection, and it busily did so.
Era's lonely eyebrow arched, "You cannot state such a ludicrous assertion and not expect me to demand elaboration, Volzarion."
"I can." he corrected with the most wicked smile.
"And it is better that I do." His eyes drifted back from down his nose to the spider, to down his nose toward their pestle, "Dalaran was unfortunately a very effective siphon for all things magical. With all the world's effective and reachable knowledge in one place… The blood elves and the alliance I assume are hardly capable of providing the support you need for this… Practice?" the term had perhaps a bit more spice than intended. He didn't apologize of course, but he did look to them with a glance that could be counted as at least acknowledging that fact if one was generous.
"I do not know," they stated simply, "The materials I require might very well be extremely common, for all I know, but I find myself unable to travel to source it, and so I must experiment with what I have on hand: charcoal pigments and precious metals for conductivity."
They stared for a beat. They were at a significant handicap, but that did not mean they could not recognize that fire was hot. "..You are displeased that I look like me again."
He perked a brow and that sharped grin inched its way back onto his face. A social predator baring its teeth in the mask of a man's shape, "I am certainly displeased. But alas it is not my body." his hands went toward the small of his back once again before his shoulders relaxed. It was absolutely a thought he'd had, but it hadn't been the thought he'd alluded to. But this would suffice as a smoke screen.
"If traipsing about in this form is what makes you able to live your life then by all means. The Blue Aspect and swaths of the red flight spend nearly all their time in a human or elven mask… Though I suspect that the reds also do more than enjoy the form and do quiet a bit with the population… But I digress."
Yes. Make it awkward. Derisive possibly, even if it was said with a conversationally matter-of-fact tone like one would around the watering hole. Easier probably for Eragios to respond to than knowing that he had realized the whole reason he even bothered. She may deny it, but his drive to help Tarrastrazsa accept what she is had bled toward Era as well. They were an elf. But to him they were a traumatized member of the azure flight. And as his thumb touched the binding of the leatherbound journal's pouch at the small of his back he was ever reminded by every breath he owed a debt to them.
Another long stare pierced the dragon that any not used to Eragios might see as vacant, but in reality was a churning of thoughts that had simply made them forget to move their face. Their eye fell into the powdered gold glittering in the tiny basin and on their fingertips.
"..I wish I could show you how Unre looked at me. How Amenir's voice trembled for just having spoken with me. I wish I could show you the thing I see when I look into a mirror."
They dumped the gold into a tiny bowl of ink, setting to gently mixing, "I think, perhaps, that would help you sympathize, or at least understand. Still, regardless of reason, I am glad for the company. My leg has prevented me from venturing far beyond the building, though I am at least ambulatory. Still suffering dreadfully from the cabin fever."
The. Man. Did. A. Doubletake.
His jaw going slightly lax even as he stared at Era's forehead in a momentary fugue of confusion.
No. None of that. He corrected his expression so fast that it may well have made a snapping sound and the sharpened smile was on once again, "Were I a betting fiend I would put gold that the appreciation is largely out of desperation. But in the spirit of our-" his hand came out from behind and swam through the air as he fished for words, "attempts at tolerance- Thank you for the appreciation."
His hand returned to its strange space and the tiny wisps of steam finally died away before he stepped around to the side of the desk to take a closer look at the ink briefly as he contemplated the purity of the coal and the idea that the hand of charity extended only so far despite his powers…
"Regarding the notion of sympathy. Perhaps. In the spirit of coming together and understanding one another's nightmares that drive us to be the monsters we are one day to the next perhaps dropping memories and delusions into another's head is the only other step. We did already tell one another in clear terms what the problems are."
"Not exactly a skill I find myself possessed of," Eragios chuckled dryly, "So I am afraid it must remain an exploration of the imagination."
They dipped a brush into the ink, drawing a small and simple glyph onto a piece of paper. They squinted in exertion momentarily, the rune catching alight as mana flowed from them and through it before it more literally caught alight and began to blaze, rapidly consuming itself and the medium it was scrawled upon. Eragios sighed, "Resistance is simply too high. Perhaps silver..? No, that would be worse. Mm."
He tilted his head at the conundrum and the immolated scroll. As his brow rose he offered what was clearly a horrible shot in the dark, "Dragon scale?"
"You mean that I should grind scales into the ink or as a medium?" They let the question hang in the air for a moment before sighing, "Some of the first things I tried. I had so many from my hands laying around.. As a medium, too small and fussy. As a pigment additive, too reactive. It works until it suddenly didn't." They idly rub at a spot on their arm where a particularly nasty backlash had left a new (minor) burn.
"You were using blue scales… Relevant to arcane magic but arcane magic is indeed volatile. Perhaps something… More sustainable. Restorative?" his eyes drifted out the window toward a crimson head of hair sprinting to a puddle and then leaping into the air to see just how much wake she could manage this time.
He waited far too long to add the clarity, "Not removed from her, obviously. But perhaps any shed."
"Obviously, I am not about to take a scraper to her, but.. I am unsure. Something of it makes me uncomfortable in a way I cannot quite articulate."
Era in their mom arc
"Something to speak with her about, perhaps, if I cannot find any alternatives. I have many other options to exhaust first."
"You have infinite options in the end but that is one that could be at least tested with no pain or struggle." He amended before dashing his eyes toward Era while imposing himself at the window.
"And it would give her a way to feel helpful beyond fussing over your wounds. Literally doing something to help you smile."
His eyes returned to the street and the absolute decimation of another puddle though it nearly managed revenge as Tarra skidded on a loose patch of grass.
"You're too soft with her to ever take it from her, so the concern isn't about you going at her like a feral beast. Correct?"
Era's eye unfixed for a moment, coming back to reality and realizing they'd been staring at their reflection in a shard of a broken mirror they had not yet repaired and thus had stacked pieces of neatly on a shelf.
"..I do not like the idea of seeing her as components, as useful pieces for even a moment. Let her have a few more years before she come to understand how much the world will want to take from her and how useful she can be as reagents."
He chuckled. A dark thing that broke across the air in quiet waves from beside Era. From the thing watching out the window.
"True enough."
He reached his hand into his fanny pack satchel and pulled out a different notebook than the one he'd been caught with before and with the tip of a claw managed to lightly burn a note for later onto the page. Before setting the document on the window sill.
His eyes settled on the battle against the elements outside once again before his smile faltered and he managed to slip into a more neutral demeanor.
"With all your trauma and hate and fears about what a dragon can be. Allow me to thank you for letting her hatch instead of preventing another monster being born."
Era paused their fussing pensively, "..Intellectually, I understand these scars are not healthy. I can rationalize and disassociate enough to not allow my poison to spread to her, even if the horrid animal in me wants to scream and rage and cower away from her. I am not so mad as to let her see that."
They gingerly set the brush aside, giving up on the idea of ink and scrolls for the moment, "..Was how it felt when I first took her under my wind - ahah, a pun - Now? She is a refutation of my fears. She is what prevents much of my worse nature in this regard."
He didn't so much nod as lift his chin with a quiet "mhm." Of acknowledgement.
With a finger he closed the book and let his gaze drift through the past. Memories and perspectives he didn't trust had actually been his own. The soft sound of something crunching into the wet made his brow twitch.
He inhaled quiet but sharply. A breath he'd been holding. Then let his head turn to look the elf up and down like a pack of meat at market.
"And how do the others feel about her? Amenir. Unre seems frankly worse off than you by a wide margin. I only even know who they are because Vorandril told me. They ran away at the social meet that I'd tried to attend."
"I.. Don't know," they admit, "Unre's history is with the blue flight, apparently, hence their vitriolic reaction to me and merely fearing you." They sighed, letting their shoulders slump, "I'm not sure if anyone else even has an opinion on Tarrastrasza, if they even know about me taking care of her at all. She has a history with the Vigil going back to when she was much younger, perhaps the few old faces still with us merely see another familiar face.."
"Ambivalence is infinitely preferred over hate. Not knowing how the mortals here would treat her… Well. Except one. Is part of why if she is out with me I do endeavor to keep her within reach should I have to maim someone."
"It is.. Appreciated. I do not fear any in Ruthren, but it does quell the senseless anxieties somewhat to know when she is elsewhere you are likely not far behind. Though, if she begins speaking of her protective uncle, your image in the minds of the people will never recover."
Fear was such a strong word. But he didn't bother clarifying his personal stance on the dynamic. Or that if it was needed he would wipe the village off the map should the population turn on the two he was beginning to consider as under his guidance. As awful as that guidance was.
The final jab though dragged a hiss from his throat before that threatening rolling chuckle returned. "Your father already believed we spawned her together. Anyone here not having noticed her before is likely to think the same given no one else speaks with me."
"Unlikely. As of yet, no one has been made aware of my nature outside of Unre, Nandrix, and the Council. At worst, those that do not know might think she is yours and yours alone, unless they talk to me."
Era furrowed their brow, "I doubt that my father earnestly believed that Tarra was ours."
"Of course not. He didn't seem especially foolish. But it is hilarious in its absurdity that you'd stoop that far and it entertains me greatly."
Oh fun, he likes your dad and he thinks your mom is amusingly malicious.
The hyalomancer rolled their eye, unwilling to argue with whatever narrative Volzarion had woven around their father poking and prodding him.
"He is brilliant, though you wouldn't know it most of the year. I didn't realize he was anything more than a farmer with a funny hat until I was grown and he responded to a letter with a construct-carried letter directly to Stormwind.." They paused, "..I assume you parental relationships are.. Troubled at best?"
He slowly turned his head to face Era with a sharply raised brow that seemed to challenge the idea. Do you really want to know?
His answer was measured. Even. In the same feeling of high pressure danger as feeling a tiger growling behind your head.
"I was hatched in the hinterlands. Sintharia was too mad and had too many spawn to know me and my sire didn't think any of us should live." He looked back out the window before smirking. Then letting it expand out into that damn smile again, "I'd say our relationship improved following the Cataclysm."
Era stared, aware that they had taken a step into a minefield but absolutely unsure of how to navigate it. After some time making complicated little faces, they settle on, "Ah."
They cleared their throat awkwardly, "Is such dysfunction.. Normal for draconic familial connections? I do not remember any family before Risa and Rembrandt.."
"Absolutely not." There was an edge of hate in his voice. But it wasn't at Era, though that likely did not convey terribly well.
"The aspect of Death wasn't capable of caring by the end. It was the beast you think it was."
His eyes drifted away and up to the clouds. Dark with rain. Dark with ashes from memory. Storm clouds that billowed from pyroclastic wings and fury.
"My kind were the actual monsters. Raising monsters. What happened to Alexstrasza in the second war was our doing. Our plan at least. The others? The green with their little clusters of family. Reds varying from communal raising from the queen's brood to smaller dens of mating groups. Bronze… Their heads so stuck in the sands of time that I have no damnable clue. The blue? Too demolished by grief and their own special interests to have any cohesive familial identity beyond adoring magic and hating Father's genocide against them.
… I. Will say that as a kindness… They have come a long way since Malygos was killed. So what they do now I do not know."
The venom might not have been meant for them, but they flinched all the same. By the end, they looked more confused than anything else, "I.. see. You need not try to make Malygos's brood more palateable than they are. I remember the Nexus War, that is all I need to know. I cannot imagine any amount of 'kindness' can make up for that."
His head tipped toward the side in Era'd direction slightly. And he let his eyes drift closed as he put considerable effort into not sounding like a spitefully envious piece of shit. It had questionable efficacy.
"I am not sanitizing the azure flight. The ones that backed Malygos are still little better than mad tyrants, and most of them died on that hill to my understanding. What's left of the flight now is led by the aspect that has been helping rule Dalaran. Kozlecgos or something."
"I've seen the calculations," Era stated hoarsely, deflecting the salient point with fear of the almost was, "14 minutes separated Malygos from causing a planet-wide mana hammer that would have made Draenor's death look like a pleasant ending, without a single major population center spared as every ley line erupted at once. 840 seconds. The time it takes to boil an egg. A kind of surgical devastation that would have made Deathwing's rabid thrashing look like a child stamping it's feet."
They shook their head forcefully emerging from the fugue of terror, "Apologies, and I am aware of Kalecgos, but.. if you mean to say that the crimes of the greater part can be absolved be the abstinence of the few, do you yourself not make the same assertion for the black flight simply being here?" It was not a refutation, it was an earnest question.
"The Nathrezim in the details I suppose. My kind were unilaterally corrupted in a way that for ten millennia was thought completely unrecoverable by the void and the maliciousness of the old gods. It wasn't their choice but it was thorough and inescapable. The blue's were driven into malice by grief and time. A choice made by some to follow the orders of their Aspect's madness but a choice that was opposed by some. They were allowed individualism in the end."
He released a tense breath, and his eyes drifted open as the sharp-smile wearing madman came back to the surface as a mask, and then he turned to appraise Era once again, "I will say despite being at Wyrmrest at the time I hadn't heard just how down to the wire it was at the Nexus. Hmm. Seems Alexstrazsa's bleeding heart nearly cost us everything."
"It was, and she did. The damage that was done during the war reshaped the ley lines in much of Northrend and had knock-on effects across the whole of Azeroth that we are only now finally beginning to map and understand. The worst was averted, obviously, but the damage he did cause was.. Subtle and difficult to explain the nuance of."
"But, ah, I won't pretend like I am able to perceive meaningful difference in the two wyrms trying to kill us all and dragging their flights with them, but I know that I am an unable to quell bias in this. If you insist there is difference, then.." At least they're trying now.
The stare threatened to come back. He was able to keep the expression from his face but the slightly confused incredulity of the situation flavored the edges of his words, "What happened to you in the last few days that has you so…" Vocabulary was ever the enemy of villainous aspiration, "Amicable toward empathy today?" Harsher than he'd meant it to sound but what's said is said after all.
They gestured generally to the window, "That, and your willingness to help with Tarra and how she speaks of you paint a very different image than the one you project. You have mostly ceased your spiteful commentary upon me, and I am not so bitter as to not reexamine how I speak in kind. Or would you rather I fight through the pain of broken ribs to make every agonizing word a sharp little barb?""
The frogs marched upon their avian oppressors in the woods from their puddle homes, lead by Ranger General Tarrastrasza and her Good Stick She Found With Just The Right Shape™️
"I do not know." he admitted with slightly more surety than his previous inquiry though he did manage to return his notebook to its satchel and once again stood At Ease while looking out the window. The child was a menace. But it was charming. One day she'll lead the woods to wipe out a civilization when trauma and madness take her too. Probably.
"I am told we should crave kindness but I do not understand it. Your mother's barbed civility, your antagonism, those I know how to engage with." before he gestured with a dip of his head again, "The alienation of what emotions are, as I said before."
A seagull dove to try and scoop up a frog. Two others leapt up to defend their brother in arms and collided with its wings, sending it to the ground as it could not anticipate such a defense to accommodate. It fell. And the frogs showed no mercy. Praise the blood of war, they shall eat well this night.
"In part I worried that you were rolling to your back to expose your belly. Giving up. It's good I was wrong."
"The thought was tempting," Eragios admitted, "But I'm not sure I know how to 'give up'. Simply not the child my mother raised- which reminds me, what did she say to you to leave you with such a- I don't want to say UNFAVORABLE OPINION, but..?"
"A graceless attempted power play to try and establish a dominant role in the conversation." he paused, then quizzically raised a brow as he looked back to Era over his shoulder, "Who said it was unfavorable?"
"Your tone and word choice. Forgive my misreading, my mother can be.. my mother, and I was quite used to worried friend and family making sure poor little Erin-" They catch themselves a syllable in, "Poor little Eragios is alright with Risa off starting mild international incidents in Lordaeron, even as a child."
Era's thumb tapped a few times against the cheap wood of their desk, bothering a termite within briefly, "I do not envy the life you must have lived for mere kindness to be such a stranger to you."
He considered for a moment. Tilt his hand or no. Was honesty in this circumstance malicious or polite. That he knew the rest of the name. The one that was an identity they hate but should embrace. Was Erinagosa the closet or was Eragios? Is Bruce Wayne actually Batman's secret identity?
In the end he shrugged and looked back to the window. The seagulls were in retreat. The crows though, attempting to remain neutral in the conflict, were a cawing crowd in the branches cheering on the violence in a hope to share in the spoils.
"The life I lived should have seen me destroyed. I by rights should not have existed into this morning but thanks to greed, politicking, fear, and appealing to The Greater Good I get to remain to be a problem for the world while refusing to engage in recovering my species from extinction. Between the two of us I do not think that either of us have been given a life worthy of much envy. Your family cares and you have Tarrastrazsa, but the only things I know about your history beyond that leave much desire for comfort."
Era let a smile crookedly cross their face, a sad and fragile thing, "There is no small amount of blood on these hands, these tombs are quite full, but.. Yes. Family helps to keep one grounded and from getting lost in the reeds at times."
Kalecgos would be vibrating in fury if he was aware of this lost egg saying these specific words and not being in the Span with the rest of the flight while doing it.
"If I still drank, I'd find a bottle and share one with you, to mutual suffering, alas, a toast of water lacks the same gravitas."
"And what vice have you replaced it with?" How very inquisitorial he sounded. Curiously stepping away from the trials and wars of the great Ranger General outside to step around Era's desk and across from them look down at the now-set-aside ink project. How very on brand that even a lizard as autistic as this one was considering the same notion many others had. That Era's vice was work and coping by convincing themself they were too busy to worry about vices.
That would make sense, wouldn't it? Era, unable to put down their work for fear the lost momentum would see them directly into Crisis's waiting hands, it would explain so much of how, even now barely past the threshold of death, they were working.
They pulled a drawer open, removing an ornate little box containing a funny little pipe and an amount of bitter smelling little leaves. They began sadly packing the now tragic little pipe with trembling hands in answer to Volzarion's question. After a moment, they held it out towards Volzarion, "Would you..? I have not yet remade the scroll that allows me to ignite it."
He couldn't help but let the mask of a smile reach his eyes as embers lit behind those sickeningly red orbs. Everyone has a vice. None of us have it together.
He raised a clawed hand and a flame licked up around the end of his thumb, swirling and dancing around the claw before he angled it for the pipe, "And to think I was going to guess stress baking."
"Hah, with these hands? I could no more knead dough than you could manage a whole conversation without sarcasm." They hyalomancer filled their lungs with bitter warmth, slumping comfortably back into their chair as the smoke roiled out with their breath, "I do not function well without SOME manner of lessened cognition occasionally, I've found. A moment of respite from myself. I will never understand those that merely partake of such chemistries for mere social lubricant."
"Is sculpture your 'vice', then? The little ritual that blunts the razor of life?"
"Not as such." he held out a hand to partake of the sacred pipe of dead friends and better company.
"We all have a calling. The purpose put on us by the Titans. Shaping the earth and building things is the purpose of the black dragonflight. That's why even in His madness the aspect kept putting some forged thing as the lynch pin of all his rites and plans. Mine is apparently impolite to discuss candidly in most of the continent. Suffice to say it made a convenient outlet for the sadistic cruelty of the whispers at the time." he paused as he considered the idea, eyes drifting to the wall, "Untested since they have been silent however."
Era's eyebrow arched, "I will not pry, if this subject is as sensitive as it sounds, but I will admit that I do not understand what you mean."
He merely chuckled as he lowered his hand since the pipe was not shared. Instead he brought his heel to a chair leg and shifted it so he could sit once again, putting his back toward the wall and Era now to his left with the window behind them. And the door once again in his field of view. His frame now in profile to the Elf.
"Chains and carnal indulgence and embracing the need to put lesser things in their place. I am not so prudish and chaste that I won't admit to what it was despite how dire it may have been. Likely I should find something new. Perhaps drink would be an easier malady. Though I'm curious." he once again folded one leg over the other and brought his hands together on his knee, "Social Lubricant. An idea that could make me more tolerable to others. At the risk that I may actually be a surly drunk. What do you think?"
Eragios stared blankly at Volzarion for a moment as gears turned in their head. When they realized what he was explaining, they emitted a singular and simple "Ah" as their cheeks flushed.
But discussing drink and its effects, though, that was something they were more at home with. "It.. Can be an option, a tempting one. One that smoothed my own rough edges until suddenly I was drinking to smooth out everyone else's edges. I suppose it depends on how much faith you have in your own self control."
The expression of Really? slid back into place as he looked at them and their cloud of smoke, "Perhaps not then." the thing that spent hundreds of years with apocalyptic whispers taking over his mind, trusting his self control? Haaaa.
"Though now that I think of it if I ever see Amenir with a bottle I will let you know."
"Who knows, perhaps you are a perfectly charming drunkard and we will have to stage a funny little intervention because you started drinking, found out things are nice when people are nice, and then never stopped."
That didn't sound charming at all
Another billow of bitter warmth coiled past their teeth as they took a moment to stare at the ceiling, "Alternatively we shall find you in a cave with some poor thing strung up to a mound of gold and have to have to pretend we never saw anything as that is the typical protocol when you walk in on something of the sort."
"My worry is that after they were mounted on the gold that I would then set the metal molten." he said it so casually. So callously. There was no derision. It was stated with the same conversational simplicity as asking someone what the soup of the day was.
"I.. see." Their voice strained at the casualness of the idea 'i might cook someone' was rattled off. "Surely you have more faith in your own control than that?"
"Of course. Right now I do. But how much does an inch of lost control mean to something like me." Not a dragon. Not a man. Something touched by notions not his own, alien and horror itself. "Do I think it likely? No, absolutely not. Do I know that the thought is there when someone sneers at me on the street and the thought of teaching them to respect their betters arises? Yes. Do not misunderstand, I would love the idea of being someone else, someone more person than nightmare by simply altering how I look or committing to drink. But I have to consider the idea that it also might let something out."
Eragios stared, lonely green eye boring a hole into Volzarion. don't say 'same bestie', don't you do it.
"I believe such intrusive thoughts are what many would call 'normal', it is the acting upon them or ignoring them that divides men from beasts, or in this case dragons from beasts," Era grinned in crooked, sheepish apology, "That is to say, I understand the fear of sudden loss of violent control. Heavens know that the thought crossed my mind every time Amenir came to me for training with a sword or anytime a patron stared a little too long at the Ledgermain, though perhaps is a more.. Visceral and less lascivious context." They cleared their throat, cheeks reddening again. Horrible little catholic lizard unable to speak frankly on the the idea of sex, more at 11.
Hubris was his meat and breath, but even he didn't bother to broach the idea that jumped into his mind that while Era may be right in principle he had to believe it was a horror of degrees. A matter of scale. Who could have it worse than being born with the Void in your head and having no idea who you could possibly have been if you had a choice?
The camera didn't pan to the audience but his eyes returned to the desk and he sighed gently. Frankly the softest gesture of the night.
Then he was on it once again. A smile warped and serrated as his eyes lifted to Era under hooded brow. He'd been too vulnerable and they could almost see him withdrawing into his need for conflict, "And here I thought that you'd be stronger than to be bothered by some patron undressing you and pulling your hair with their eyes. For shame, Eragios."
Era arche that singular eyebrow up, "I beg your pardon?"
Conflict
"I doubt you would have done better, after a few years being ogled eyecandy for students and archmagi, Volzarion. There is only so much strength in the world."
"I guarantee you I would." he sat upright, smiling down his nose. Ah yes. Here we were. The comfortable banter of jabs and parries. The most mundane expression of aggression and conflict. All he ever knew.
"True there is only so much strength in the world but I do believe I established my trial in such simple circumstance would be a matter of endurance, not weakness."
Era crossed their arms, "You were JUST TELLING ME about your fear of harming someone in a dark moment, and you expect me to believe that you could then take that mindset and work FOOD SERVICE? Do dragons not have an analogous concept or something?"
"Obviously not." he chuckled, holding up his hands as if they held anything worth searching for, "The only city of dragons is on the Isles and even if there was such commerce it would be a mess of dragons playing at mortality for a novelty. It would be a game to them as they play out a fantasy of what they think your life was. I do not doubt the cruelty of the work they put you through. I do not doubt that the mortal's drive to subjugate their kin based on the amount of coin in their possession is its own horror." his hands lowered and one draped across the desk to slowly strum his claws at its surface, "I was saying that such lecherous ogling as you mentioned would hardly be an impedance. That one of us here at least would have the strength to rise to the challenge of that look instead of being oppressed by it."
Era brought their fingers up to lace together, elbows on their desk and hands covering most of their face, voice carefully level as they echo a previous concept, "5 years of constant reminders that to those people I was collection of components and useful pieces that brought them coffee and silly little tarts. Yes, I should definitely have risen to that challenge."
"Exactly. Is it not sense to realize that had you perhaps enjoyed yourself by putting them in line, you would no longer have gotten those looks? To be looked at as more capable than one of their arcane servitors? Because Dalaran of all places had the means to do away with such trivial labor in its entirety and instead they put someone there. Perhaps it is a matter of differences in our pride. But even simple acts of rebellion or at least unsubmissiveness may have helped."
"And been swiftly relieved of the singular way I was providing for myself and Tarra for years. Yes, you're right, silly me."
"A limitation we do not share." he pointed out. Narrowing his eyes slightly. He wasn't referring to having a ward by a long shot.
But he did relieve the gesture as quickly as it had come. Instead holding up a hand of concession, "But yes, that is not an option for you. Erinagosa is buried, long live Eragios." The hand came back down to his lap and his head tipped back til his horns touched the wall so his eyes could find the ceiling.
A massive crack traced through the bay window with a sound like a gunshot, glimmering momentarily in phantasmal light. Eragios didn't move, their voice the careful level of a serial killer trying to threaten their way out of an arrest, "You. Are never to speak that name. Again. I do not know where you heard it, but you did not hear it. Do I make myself clear? Is that 'unsubmissive' enough for you?"
Outside in the fading rain, Tarra turned to look back into town at the sound of the window buckling. The newly crowned Frog Queen considered leaving her subjects briefly, but knew they needed her.
"Delightfully so." his smirk didn't waver in the slightest. What was the worst thing that could be done to him? Torture him with shards of glass and be just as awful as he? Kill him and release him from the nightmare of cognition?
"I would dare say that between your earlier statement about not giving up and this, I am quite satisfied. I will not say it again, you have my word. As for where I heard it, I have every faith you could figure it out but yes, your parents dropped it quite affectionately until I corrected them on your current identity."
Era's eye flicked down to the desk surface, the ink stains and scratches, "..It did not seem relevant for them to know." After a moment, they sighed, "That is a lie. I enjoyed mother not being able to find me whenever she wanted, and I did not want them to worry. But.. Yes, you are right. Erinagosa," they uttered the name with the same energy as a Cat trying to describe water, "ceased to be with the Nexus War, and her name was execrated over and over again with the turning of the years."
"And now they know you are around the corner. Geographically speaking." It was less to drive the point home or to try and take credit for the sudden change in familial dynamic but intent and result rarely agree.
"And why did you wish to hide from people you respect enough to emulate in form?"
Eragios eased, distance between them and the difficult topic growing. "Mother can be.. Smothering, and father I think blames himself for how I was after the Scourge destroyed our home. Mother had long pushed for the whole family to move into Thalassian territories, and he held fast to his family home, and, well.." they sighed, "..Mother never quite got over me joining in with the Shattered Sun before I was fully grown. She's right, I shouldn't have done that, and I still do not think I can face her after using the Wildspell name to force myself into their ranks as I did. She has been kind enough to not mention it."
"And avoidance is easier than reconciliation?" It wasn't an attack. For some reason he seemed genuinely confused.
A single huffed laugh shook the Hyalomancer's shoulders, "A friend once asked me something similar, and I will tell you what I told her. I am a coward, and I know it. It is my essential nature. Running is infinitely easier than daring anything else, and it is a titanic effort to not in any given moment, an effort I have become accustomed to."
Here the two were at odd ends. He a coward for specifically survival. But a head-butting bastard the rest of the time. Odd descriptions given his staring death in the eye a moment ago. The writer has the vibe but not the vocabulary.
Some small part of him wanting to domineer things just because he can felt an itch at their confession of cowardice… At most it was expressed as a quiet growl in the back of his throat for a few seconds as he processed what they'd said.
And so instead a joke and a jab… "Well blessed is my afternoon for your injured leg then. You can't get away."
"Oh, my, yes, lucky you, you get to enjoy my company AND all the amenities my tiny office can offer. If you stand sidelong, you can even extend both arms and not touch the walls." Again they filled their lungs with acrid warmth and a smell that reminded them of their father as only a comforting memory can, "And here I am, damned to you. One of us is receiving the far better end of this deal."
"Literal beggars being picky about their choices." he then tsk'd Era twice and relieved the tips of his horns from the wall. He did look around the office/lair/hell for a second before his eyes made their way back to Eragios, "Well, enjoy your suffering a while longer. Soon you'll have to contend with the horrible amenities of the cave I've been working toward."
"Beggars are allowed to complain about mold on the bread scraps that they are given as alms, Volzarion." They chuckled earnestly, an actual joke with no spite or venom. What was this? What sick powerplay was THIS now?
"..Thank you. I.. Wasn't really sure what to do about the shelter part of food and shelter in the long term. Tarra can sleep curled up in closet and on rooves still and not slow at all. I, on the other hand.. They looked around the tiny office, considering nonexistent options, "..I will run out of coffee and adrenaline eventually, and then I am not sure what I am going to do."
He inhaled slow, but spoke at the same measured and ominous pace as normal despite for once making a point to not look at them. Which is different from simply not looking at them, "Spite and fear and hate aside, I know you do not care for what you were born as. But that matters to me and should you end up in such dire circumstance again I would rather be called to address the issue than for you both to have to fumble through such inconvenience."
Era arched their eyebrow, confused, "..The inconvenience of a surprise attack of a faction of Nerubians no one knew about destroying Dalaran? Or do you mean the mere reality of roof over head? You never exactly projected the image of someone who would be willing or able to help before these last few days, Volzarion."
"The latter. I am a dragon not a miracle worker." he scoffed at the idea of his presence being enough to save something as doomed as Dalaran.
"In my thin defense, even if I had you would not have cared prior to your recent near death experiences putting you in so desperate a position. Vis a vis your admission during our last conversation."
"That is true," Era conceded, "I would have assumed it was some fresh attempt at mockery, some childish needling viciously cobbled together to hurt."
They were quiet for a long moment, "..Why are you so disgusted by my being me? It merely some.. Draconic pride feeling violated by it?"
"Yes." the response was not delayed or hurried. Simply as casual as cooking someone alive in a kink scene.
But the slow inhale showed there was more coming.
"If you want the genuine answer you have to accept that I will be calling you a dragon while I do so." before he raised a hand to point at the window, "So no flaying outside the bedroom."
The adjutant made a small 'go on' gesture, beginning to add more horrid little leaves to their pipe, "For the sake of conversation, I suppose.."
"Dragons are better than most every mortal race in at least some aspects. Not to say Mortals do not have their places in the world or that they are trivial and weak. We did not repel the legion at the isles."
He sat up and closed his eyes as he looked for the words, "We are longer lived than even elves. The kaldorei only were granted immortality because a sect of them befriended Ysera and her bleeding heart of a sister. We are immortal, magical in a degree that others have to dedicate their entire lives just to match, are connected to the world in such a fundamental manner that it is ingrained into inherited ticks."
The eyes opened and the embers began to glow again before he looked Era's way, "I have so much reason to accept free choices of who you wish to be. I strive to choose to not be like Wrathion or the Death Aspect. But rich as it may sound you are a dragon who has abandoned how important they should have been. You want to move on from your birthright and bury it with the Nexus war. I imagine how meaningful it would have been for another one of his kind to be a champion for the people he was attempting to destroy. You were born away from a dragonflight but with the power and drive to be a protector of a function of the world.
And you sit here burning that potential away into scraps of parchment pretending to be the product of someone else's accomplishments.
It is a matter of pride. That you had a choice and chose to…" be something lesser. "be less than you could be."
With his hectic dissertation provided he folded up his arms. Looking away. Scowling only after he'd finished his rambling and damning the floor with his gaze, "It is a feeling I have. One of the many I am unsure how to manage or express properly. I am certain I have faux-pa'd my way into something that I did not mean to convey. So take it as you will."
Era sat quiet, listening, even through his dracocentric world views and racism.
When they spoke again, it was with a Weald lilt unmasked by the need to sound Respectable and Proper, "What more could I have done, could I have been, could I be? I have stood against the death of this world since the day I was old enough to hold a sword, Volzarion. I have quelled plagues, I have invented spells, I have survived the end time and time again so often that near-death experiences have become centering. I have cut down the Legion in numbers that would make even the Lightforged blush and pierced the hearts of ascendant gods. I have loved and been loved unto the depths of madness and beyond. I stand now as a crucial component of an organization with what might now be the most dangerous vault of relics and artifice on the planet with the death of Dalaran. How much more could I possibly be? How could scales that itch and horns that blind my friends elevate even a little? Tell me, please, I want to know. Tell me how what I am doing right now with the Vigil does not acquiesce to some essential imperative branded upon my soul, because I need it not to be."
More quietly, their eye flicked down to the desk's surface once more, "I am so much already, Volzarion. I think, perhaps, if I were to become any more, one scale more, I might tear myself apart with the enormity of myself. I submit to you that I am more than I ever could have been had I merely accepted 'dragon' and never known life beyond that yoke."
"My argument is, in its simplest form. You could be both." before he looked back over.
"You could choose to not hide it and save yourself this." before he reached out to pick up the ink that had failed and with a flare of light that illuminated his eyes set it to fire.
"But you present your belly and hide from your fight. As you said, a coward. With no intention of overcoming it."
Era shifted, cheek resting in a palm as they continued to drill their way through the desk with their eye, "..Do you know what they think of us?" Era conceded for the first time to the idea of that there was an inclusivity to the idea of 'dragon' and 'era'. "They see us as inherently duplicitous. Serpents in their gardens wearing the faces of their friends. Unre thought I had killed Eragios and replaced them. Amenir wondered if I had been doing this to gain something, as if the whole thing, my mere existence, was some gambit. Nixrael, a dear old friend, wondered if it had been some sort of joke at her expense. I cannot imagine what Rothain, Cedar, Keysnol, or Zachariah would think to know this of me now, while I can imagine what the Vigil as a whole might."
"I cannot fight the whole of the world, Volzarion. I am not strong enough."
"And you offer me some sense of patience as an individual but won't demand that patience from those around you?" He raised a brow and set the pestle down with a hard thump. Rougher than intended.
Then he pointed at their averted face, "The worst part is that you claim to be so concerned about how that is their opinion of dragons, and only one of us has embraced that behavior around your vaunted Vigil. You are exactly guilty of what you are scared they would assume of you."
Eragios Wildspell froze, still for several seconds as the accusation sunk in and inundated their core before their voice, fragile and small, demanded, "Please leave."
He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at the coward. He was definitely feeling things. Righteousness was in there. And some other oddities. But they did not feed the persona. Another flight would soften the blow. The troll would say he should soften the blow. He knew these things. But he was proud. And they had asked. He had only honesty and pride and a touch of guilt but he didn't understand that yet.
He stood up and silently walked toward the door with the only sound being the thump of his boots. The door swung open and with it being the barrier between the two of them he kept his facing to the opening of the door and spoke into the space, "I will have the project done soon. I wish our world views were more compatible."
And with that he headed outside. Closing the office door behind him and walking out into the rain. His path took him straight toward Tarrastrazsa just past the tree line where her court of frogs parted for the large lizard who was wafting a cloud of steam. Even Tarra could see the embers of righteous rage behind his eyes as it lit his features. His voice was sinister and foreboding, "I had a conversation with Eragios. I likely hurt them with what I said. I suggest you give them time before you seek them out…" before he turned to walk away through the woods toward the hills. Only in his passing did the dark shadow of something massive appear cast by his form.
They waited, unmoving, for some time after Volzarion left, and longer still after Tarra had hesitantly come to check on them before running off to return to her play. The setting sun cut through the clouds, catching the sky ablaze.
They reached up with hesitant and numb fingers to unweave a scroll from their arm, the illusion of their face shattering away like snow blown from a dry roof. The tiny office lit up with innumerable constellations of scattered sunspots from their horns, casting the dark space in flecks of dusk's grandeur. Dreadful thoughts filled their head for the briefest of moments as the window glinted invitingly in the kaleidoscopic light.
The Hyalomancer sat, alone in an office drenched in glory. They were numb, but that didn't stop the tears rolling down their face. He was right, of course. They were everything they were feared to be, and Era knew it.
It's a dreadful thing to know that you are the villain of every story, the dragon to be slain.
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