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The Curse that Ruined Everything (Part 2)
Life in the world of Glitara isn't going too great for Rangavar. His luck might turn though when an asshole gets what he deserves...
Or will Rangavar be the unlucky one?
<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>
Planning to release this story in parts. This is a part two of a prequel to Kill, Marry, Fuck
Probably more fun to read that first, but what do I know
The Gemian dragon grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall. Rangavar turned his head away as the Gemian leaned in and snarled, “Watch where you’re walking.”
“Sorry,” Rangavar muttered.
The Gemian let go, freeing him. He looked Rangavar up and down with contempt. “I don’t want a single scale of yours in the same vicinity as me.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t even look at me the wrong way, or you’ll regret it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t even BREATHE around me, or—”
“Hey, he gets it,” his Faerian friend suddenly interrupted, putting a calming paw on the Gemian’s shoulder. He glanced at Rangavar. “We’re good, right? Everything’s good.”
Rangavar nodded carefully. The Gemian was still giving him a dirty look. He was obviously just power-tripping, though, enjoying the fact that he could yell at other species and get away with it. There were still Gemians like that on some worlds, and Glitara seemed to be one where it was still common.
“Come on,” the Faerian dragon encouraged.
At least the Gemian seemed to listen to the taller Faerian behind him. He begrudgingly backed away, looking Rangavar up and down. “Next time your tail gets in my way, I’ll stomp on it.”
“Sorry.” Rangavar wasn’t sure what else to say. It weren’t as if he could retaliate in any way; he’d be the one to get in trouble, even though the Gemian had been the one to assault him. Rangavar was the Darkal species of dragon.
The Gemian seemed pleased to have put him in his place. He beckoned at the Faerian. “Let’s go.”
The Faerian looked at Rangavar guiltily. ‘Sorry’ he mouthed.
Rangavar met his eyes but didn’t respond.
Ah, yes, another glorious day in the life of a Darkal.
He watched them go, partially because he just wanted to make sure they really left. The streets were empty now that the morning rush to work had calmed, and they were the only ones coming the opposite direction as they stepped out of the building behind them and onto the sidewalk. Perhaps the reason that the Gemian had stumbled over Rangavar’s tail on his way out was that he wasn’t paying any fucking attention. Rangavar glowered at him across the street as they walked away.
The Gemian cast a glance back—and scowled to see Rangavar staring after them. He came to a halt, the Faerian halting a few steps later when he noticed that his friend was once again preoccupied. The smaller dragon looked like he was about to storm over.
Rangavar felt a buzzing in his head as he met the Gemian’s furious eyes. Then he frowned when he noticed it getting stronger. For a second he’d thought it was the Gemian radiating emotion, but saw that the Gemian was looking at him strangely— he felt it too.
Rangavar suddenly felt a searing pain rip through his back, and made some sort of wordless exclamation as his knees buckled and he fell to the pavement. It couldn’t be magic from the Gemian; he wasn’t close enough.
His vision started to become hazy and dark… Wait. No. It was the air. Rangavar craned his neck up to see that the sun was dark. The pulsing in his head seemed to intensify throughout his entire body. He looked over to see the Gemian and Faerian both on the ground like him, experiencing everything that he was. So it really wasn’t their magic causing this. Well, it was definitely magic, just not theirs.
Rangavar suddenly cried out as another burst of splitting pain shot down his spine. He growled at the sensation of his back stretching, not in a pleasant way. His shoulders seemed to pop, his feet and toes seemed to rearrange themselves, and there was a burning sensation on his wings that made him want to black out. What is happening to me? He toppled over on the ground, but he realized it wasn’t just his balance; the entire ground was shaking. He’d been in so much pain himself that it was hard to figure out what was just his own body shuddering, and what wasn’t.
He writhed and growled horribly as his body rejected his commands, unable to find relief from himself. His claws scrabbled against the pavement, longer, thicker, and sharper than they’d been a moment ago, and when he bared his teeth, his lips wouldn’t close over his fangs again. His question from earlier changed: What is WRONG with me?
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
Every part of his body either burning or aching with pain, Rangavar lifted his head. Long, deep cracks ran every which way over the streets, and many buildings around him appeared to be damaged, both things clearly from the quake. The ground wasn’t the only disaster; glancing up, the sun was fully eclipsed, only a dull gray light escaping around the edges to keep daytime alive. It wasn’t doing a very good job, either; the air had a misty, translucent hue. Perhaps from all the dust kicked up by the quake, although Rangavar didn’t smell anything.
His gaze wandered to the Gemian and Faerian that had accosted him earlier. What he saw was curious; the Faerian was passed out, but the Gemian seemed to be struggling on the ground, much as Rangavar just had been.
Rangavar tried to rise to his feet—only to find that he couldn’t, not really. Bracing himself against the ground on essentially all fours, he looked beneath himself towards his feet, which he saw were very clearly longer than normal, and the larger claws of his toes were planted firmly against the ground to keep them balanced. What the fuck? Darkals weren’t able to break bones, but clearly something had happened to make his feet bend unnaturally. They sure hurt enough to feel broken, although something about that hypothesis still didn’t feel quite right.
He felt wobbly as he shifted his gaze away. The Gemian was still thrashing. Rangavar felt the urge to go over to him. His natural instinct was to help, but the Gemian had been a bit of an asshole, so it might be more fun to watch instead. Yes. He was certain he had his priorities straight. Then he’d crawl his way to someone who could help, since the Gemian sure wouldn’t.
He tried to push himself forward, using his wings for balance, until he suddenly caught sight of them—huge, black, and feathered. They hadn’t been a moment ago. He almost didn’t recognize them, scrambling away from himself in shock, which really just resulted in him face-planting since he didn’t adjust them for balance and forgot about his mutilated feet unsteady against the ground.
For a moment, he was tempted to just lie there, exhausted. Then he was brought back to the present by a scream. Oh. Right. The Gemian. Rangavar lifted his head. At this point, he should really go find out what was happening just on principle.
He essentially army-crawled over the battered pavement to get closer, barely noticing the way that the sharp edges of cracked concrete scraped at his scales. He was clearly all sorts of fucked up anyway, having enough trouble comprehending whatever was going on with his legs and wings. New pain seemed insignificant by comparison.
The Faerian was still unconscious. The Gemian was no longer thrashing, although Rangavar telepathically got the sense that he wasn’t unconscious, not yet.
The Gemian was flat on his back by the time Rangavar approached, his breathing labored with exhaustion, and all of his scales very pale. He’d been a light blue color several minutes ago, but now they’d taken on a white, ghostly hue, obviously not just pale from weakness. His head suddenly turned towards Rangavar, all of his claws twitching helplessly. He tried to force out single word, his mouth taking the shape:
Help.
Rangavar wanted to scoff, but this situation was clearly a bit out of the ordinary, and he decided to inch closer instead and see what he could do. Whatever was happening was bigger than their petty fight on the street. If he just left, he’d be the asshole.
Before he could get close, though, the Gemian’s body suddenly spasmed, and he screamed again in pain. The rest of the color seemed to drain from him, his body suddenly shuddering and relaxing, his eyes fluttering shut. Rangavar slowed his crawl. Was he unconscious? Was he dying? His question seemed answered a moment later when the dragon’s splayed wings appeared to turn to mist, his body becoming transparent. His body was dissipating. That was what happened to dragons when they died.
It was because of this revelation that Rangavar was startled when the dragon suddenly, once again, opened his eyes. Unlike before, however, his irises were blue—or rather, his entire eyes were blue, Rangavar realized; no whites, no pupils. The eyes stared blankly at him for a moment. Then, the Gemian bared his teeth and screeched.
The fur—well, the feathers—on Rangavar’s wings bristled. There was something… off, about that screech, even aside from the dying dragon’s eerily blank gaze. It didn’t sound like pain this time.
The Darkal wriggled backwards to push himself first to his knees, then to his feet—Oh, right. His feet. He looked down again, planting the balls of his feet firmly into the ground, and then slowly rose with his wings spread for balance. His heels didn’t touch the ground, for some reason feeling… normal, when it was as unnatural as could be. But he was finally off his forepaws. Yay.
Ahead of him, the Gemian began to writhe on the ground again. Rangavar noticed his strength seemingly returning, his mist-like wings stretching and contracting as he attempted to roll himself off his back and get up.
For some reason he couldn’t explain, like some sort of deep-seated, buried instinct, Rangavar did not want to stick around for when the Gemian got up.
He turned and ran—er, no, not really, he thought to himself, as he entered an awkward, lurching-gait on his hind feet. It was sort of the opposite of running, actually. He kept staggering forward to almost fall on all fours again, the thought briefly flicking through his mind that he’d probably be able to go faster that way than whatever-the-fuck he was doing right now, stretching and flapping his wings for balance like a newborn.
The huge building where the Gemian and Faerian had originally emerged was right across the sidewalk, still the closest building nearby. It didn’t seem far. He’d go in there. And maybe, he realized, finally find someone who could help.
He heard another screech behind him, and cast a glance back over his shoulder, nearly losing his balance in the process. The Gemian was on all fours now, his shoulders hunched and shuddering, although his own body shape still looked incredibly normal. The most notable difference was the long, sprawling wings and their vague, almost shifting shape. He wasn’t glaring at Rangavar, per se, but he didn’t look happy. Or like any particular emotion, Rangavar decided. But he was clearly fixated on the Darkal, and it was even more incentive to leave.
Rangavar took several last, unsteady steps towards the door, catching himself on the frame. There wasn’t any glass in the way; looking around at the absolutely destroyed tile floor, he wasn’t quite sure where it had gone. But with the Gemian in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn’t be picky and dragged himself through the entrance.
There was a set of stairs on the side of the room that was completely collapsed, and an elevator slightly warped out of shape with one of the doors trapped open. No one seemed to be around, and the interior was mostly dark without power. There were several emergency lights emitting an eerie red glow to show Rangavar around.
He heard another screech behind him. His instinct was to get away from the Gemian, but this had turned out to be a dead end, and the one desk in the room was mostly destroyed; not a good hiding place. He glanced at the elevator. Didn’t most of them have a hatch on the ceiling?
Another screech.
He stumbled towards the elevator, the rubble not making his steps any easier. He eased his slender frame through the bend in the door where it buckled inwards and finally stood inside, which also seemed to have an emergency light, fortunately. Rangavar glanced up at the ceiling. There was a square outline. Now he just had to get up there.
More screeching outside. Rangavar wondered if maybe the Gemian wasn’t even interested in him, though. Why would the Gemian even be coming for him? The screeches could be pain or confusion or anything else. Maybe he’d just go away on his own.
Did Rangavar want to take that chance? Absolutely not.
He reached up for the hatch—and realized his elongated claws easily dug around the edges. First he was startled, expecting to have to jump to grab on, but then he noticed that his stretched feet made him taller. Well, at least something was going his way today.
A flicker of movement danced out the corner of his eye. His head turned sharply towards the bend in the elevator door. Through the gap he could see the Gemian stepping through the rubble, his gait normal, although he was hugging himself with his arms as if incredibly cold. He didn’t seem to be headed in any particular way, merely picking his way through the room and glancing around.
Rangavar felt really stupid for a moment. The Gemian was just… normal. Rangavar realized he’d completely overreacted. He should just go out and ask the Gemian what happened.
He changed his mind really fast when the Gemian caught sight of him, glancing sharply, directly at the elevator, and bared his teeth while staring with his empty blue eyes. Rangavar instinctively drew back a step at the intense glare. Nope. Nope nope nope. He turned back to the hatch and wrenched it open. He cast another glance back at the Gemian, who opened his mouth to reveal too many teeth. Well, their bodies had changed after all, but in a more horrifying way. Great.
Rangavar jumped for the hatch and scrabbled his way through into the shaft above. Unfortunately, there weren’t any emergency lights here, plunging him into near-darkness as his surroundings were lit only by the dim red light of the elevator below. Suddenly, he heard a metallic crash, and the entire elevator trembled beneath him. He glanced down to see the Gemian had not only followed him, but was right behind, and pushing his head up through the hatch… Rangavar kicked it down with his foot and heard a clang and an unhappy screech. Okay, after what the Gemian had said to him outside earlier, he admitted that felt pretty good.
His heart was still beating fast though as he looked around for another exit. Since the shaft had been plunged into darkness when he slammed the hatch closed, he could see a faint outline of light around the doors to the floor above him. He supposed he should probably thank the Gemian, but would resist this time.
He leapt for the next level, his weird, long feet giving him the ability to spring farther, and he grabbed the edge and dragged himself up. He wedged his claws between the doors and pushed until he could fit both paws between them, moving them apart as well as hanging his own weight off of them until he forced them wide enough to wiggle through the gap. There was still banging and screeching in the elevator beneath him. He wondered how long it would take the Gemian to get the hatch back open. Probably not long.
Fortunately, Rangavar was up, and inched the doors back closed again. He stumbled over to a nearby desk and sank to the floor, finally releasing a pent up sigh. At least he could rest a moment and catch his breath while the other dragon screamed and clawed his way into the elevator shaft. Maybe he wouldn’t even know Rangavar had made it onto this floor, instead climbing up and up and up… Rangavar wasn’t sure how good the Gemian’s senses were now that he’d become a screeching monster. Or, well, more of a screeching monster than he had been before his transformation.
Rangavar glanced around the wrecked room, still no one in sight. He supposed he had his own apparent transformation to mentally process, but it seemed the end of the world was getting in the way, so it would have to wait until later.
There was a significant bang from the elevator shaft, and then the scrabbling of claws. Rangavar pricked his ears. Well, if the Gemian figured out what floor he was on, then he needed to get out of here. Or, alternatively, he wondered if he should stand his ground this time; surrounded by destroyed furniture, he finally had some stuff to pick up and use to fight.
He wrenched the leg off of an overturned table, which seemed to be the heaviest readily-available thing in the room to work with. Then, he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long; all of the scratching and banging stopped outside of his floor level. He half-crouched, the table leg held back and ready to swing for when the doors flew open.
Except… they didn’t. He saw three long claws extend through the door, but not through the crack or anything. They came through the door itself without a single reaction from the metal surface, followed by an arm, a shoulder…
The Darkal leapt back with a yelp as the Gemian suddenly phased through the metal door, in all his horrifying, screeching glory, and lunged. Rangavar swung—and wondered why he’d thought that would work, after the wooden object passed right through the dragon.
The Gemian didn’t pass through him, though, he unfortunately found out. The slightly larger dragon slammed into him, his huge talons wrapping over Rangavar’s shoulders, and forced him down on the ground where he crouched on the Darkal’s chest, surprisingly heavy for something intangible.
Rangavar tried to push him off, but his form seemed to shift and change shape beneath his paws, perpetually fading away from his searching grasp. The Gemian remained on top of him, staring down at him with his empty blue eyes, his mouth opening to reveal an extra two rows of teeth. Drool rolled out of the dragon’s mouth onto Rangavar’s face as he opened his jaws wide and leaned slowly towards Rangavar’s throat…
The Gemian’s head snapped up, ears pricked as if he’d suddenly heard something. Without another moment wasted, he abruptly leapt off of Rangavar, spreading his wings as if in flight and plunged directly through the nearest wall.
Rangavar just lay on the floor for a moment, arms outstretched, panting. He felt so good to be alive. He really liked being alive.
He reached up an arm to wipe drool off his face. He had no idea where the other dragon had gone, but hopefully, he wouldn’t come back looking for him. Rangavar pulled himself off the floor and slowly, unsteadily tried hauling himself back to his feet, barely successful. He forced himself to stand, though. He needed to get out of here.
And he needed to find help.
Or will Rangavar be the unlucky one?
<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>
Planning to release this story in parts. This is a part two of a prequel to Kill, Marry, Fuck
Probably more fun to read that first, but what do I know
The Gemian dragon grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall. Rangavar turned his head away as the Gemian leaned in and snarled, “Watch where you’re walking.”
“Sorry,” Rangavar muttered.
The Gemian let go, freeing him. He looked Rangavar up and down with contempt. “I don’t want a single scale of yours in the same vicinity as me.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t even look at me the wrong way, or you’ll regret it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t even BREATHE around me, or—”
“Hey, he gets it,” his Faerian friend suddenly interrupted, putting a calming paw on the Gemian’s shoulder. He glanced at Rangavar. “We’re good, right? Everything’s good.”
Rangavar nodded carefully. The Gemian was still giving him a dirty look. He was obviously just power-tripping, though, enjoying the fact that he could yell at other species and get away with it. There were still Gemians like that on some worlds, and Glitara seemed to be one where it was still common.
“Come on,” the Faerian dragon encouraged.
At least the Gemian seemed to listen to the taller Faerian behind him. He begrudgingly backed away, looking Rangavar up and down. “Next time your tail gets in my way, I’ll stomp on it.”
“Sorry.” Rangavar wasn’t sure what else to say. It weren’t as if he could retaliate in any way; he’d be the one to get in trouble, even though the Gemian had been the one to assault him. Rangavar was the Darkal species of dragon.
The Gemian seemed pleased to have put him in his place. He beckoned at the Faerian. “Let’s go.”
The Faerian looked at Rangavar guiltily. ‘Sorry’ he mouthed.
Rangavar met his eyes but didn’t respond.
Ah, yes, another glorious day in the life of a Darkal.
He watched them go, partially because he just wanted to make sure they really left. The streets were empty now that the morning rush to work had calmed, and they were the only ones coming the opposite direction as they stepped out of the building behind them and onto the sidewalk. Perhaps the reason that the Gemian had stumbled over Rangavar’s tail on his way out was that he wasn’t paying any fucking attention. Rangavar glowered at him across the street as they walked away.
The Gemian cast a glance back—and scowled to see Rangavar staring after them. He came to a halt, the Faerian halting a few steps later when he noticed that his friend was once again preoccupied. The smaller dragon looked like he was about to storm over.
Rangavar felt a buzzing in his head as he met the Gemian’s furious eyes. Then he frowned when he noticed it getting stronger. For a second he’d thought it was the Gemian radiating emotion, but saw that the Gemian was looking at him strangely— he felt it too.
Rangavar suddenly felt a searing pain rip through his back, and made some sort of wordless exclamation as his knees buckled and he fell to the pavement. It couldn’t be magic from the Gemian; he wasn’t close enough.
His vision started to become hazy and dark… Wait. No. It was the air. Rangavar craned his neck up to see that the sun was dark. The pulsing in his head seemed to intensify throughout his entire body. He looked over to see the Gemian and Faerian both on the ground like him, experiencing everything that he was. So it really wasn’t their magic causing this. Well, it was definitely magic, just not theirs.
Rangavar suddenly cried out as another burst of splitting pain shot down his spine. He growled at the sensation of his back stretching, not in a pleasant way. His shoulders seemed to pop, his feet and toes seemed to rearrange themselves, and there was a burning sensation on his wings that made him want to black out. What is happening to me? He toppled over on the ground, but he realized it wasn’t just his balance; the entire ground was shaking. He’d been in so much pain himself that it was hard to figure out what was just his own body shuddering, and what wasn’t.
He writhed and growled horribly as his body rejected his commands, unable to find relief from himself. His claws scrabbled against the pavement, longer, thicker, and sharper than they’d been a moment ago, and when he bared his teeth, his lips wouldn’t close over his fangs again. His question from earlier changed: What is WRONG with me?
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
Every part of his body either burning or aching with pain, Rangavar lifted his head. Long, deep cracks ran every which way over the streets, and many buildings around him appeared to be damaged, both things clearly from the quake. The ground wasn’t the only disaster; glancing up, the sun was fully eclipsed, only a dull gray light escaping around the edges to keep daytime alive. It wasn’t doing a very good job, either; the air had a misty, translucent hue. Perhaps from all the dust kicked up by the quake, although Rangavar didn’t smell anything.
His gaze wandered to the Gemian and Faerian that had accosted him earlier. What he saw was curious; the Faerian was passed out, but the Gemian seemed to be struggling on the ground, much as Rangavar just had been.
Rangavar tried to rise to his feet—only to find that he couldn’t, not really. Bracing himself against the ground on essentially all fours, he looked beneath himself towards his feet, which he saw were very clearly longer than normal, and the larger claws of his toes were planted firmly against the ground to keep them balanced. What the fuck? Darkals weren’t able to break bones, but clearly something had happened to make his feet bend unnaturally. They sure hurt enough to feel broken, although something about that hypothesis still didn’t feel quite right.
He felt wobbly as he shifted his gaze away. The Gemian was still thrashing. Rangavar felt the urge to go over to him. His natural instinct was to help, but the Gemian had been a bit of an asshole, so it might be more fun to watch instead. Yes. He was certain he had his priorities straight. Then he’d crawl his way to someone who could help, since the Gemian sure wouldn’t.
He tried to push himself forward, using his wings for balance, until he suddenly caught sight of them—huge, black, and feathered. They hadn’t been a moment ago. He almost didn’t recognize them, scrambling away from himself in shock, which really just resulted in him face-planting since he didn’t adjust them for balance and forgot about his mutilated feet unsteady against the ground.
For a moment, he was tempted to just lie there, exhausted. Then he was brought back to the present by a scream. Oh. Right. The Gemian. Rangavar lifted his head. At this point, he should really go find out what was happening just on principle.
He essentially army-crawled over the battered pavement to get closer, barely noticing the way that the sharp edges of cracked concrete scraped at his scales. He was clearly all sorts of fucked up anyway, having enough trouble comprehending whatever was going on with his legs and wings. New pain seemed insignificant by comparison.
The Faerian was still unconscious. The Gemian was no longer thrashing, although Rangavar telepathically got the sense that he wasn’t unconscious, not yet.
The Gemian was flat on his back by the time Rangavar approached, his breathing labored with exhaustion, and all of his scales very pale. He’d been a light blue color several minutes ago, but now they’d taken on a white, ghostly hue, obviously not just pale from weakness. His head suddenly turned towards Rangavar, all of his claws twitching helplessly. He tried to force out single word, his mouth taking the shape:
Help.
Rangavar wanted to scoff, but this situation was clearly a bit out of the ordinary, and he decided to inch closer instead and see what he could do. Whatever was happening was bigger than their petty fight on the street. If he just left, he’d be the asshole.
Before he could get close, though, the Gemian’s body suddenly spasmed, and he screamed again in pain. The rest of the color seemed to drain from him, his body suddenly shuddering and relaxing, his eyes fluttering shut. Rangavar slowed his crawl. Was he unconscious? Was he dying? His question seemed answered a moment later when the dragon’s splayed wings appeared to turn to mist, his body becoming transparent. His body was dissipating. That was what happened to dragons when they died.
It was because of this revelation that Rangavar was startled when the dragon suddenly, once again, opened his eyes. Unlike before, however, his irises were blue—or rather, his entire eyes were blue, Rangavar realized; no whites, no pupils. The eyes stared blankly at him for a moment. Then, the Gemian bared his teeth and screeched.
The fur—well, the feathers—on Rangavar’s wings bristled. There was something… off, about that screech, even aside from the dying dragon’s eerily blank gaze. It didn’t sound like pain this time.
The Darkal wriggled backwards to push himself first to his knees, then to his feet—Oh, right. His feet. He looked down again, planting the balls of his feet firmly into the ground, and then slowly rose with his wings spread for balance. His heels didn’t touch the ground, for some reason feeling… normal, when it was as unnatural as could be. But he was finally off his forepaws. Yay.
Ahead of him, the Gemian began to writhe on the ground again. Rangavar noticed his strength seemingly returning, his mist-like wings stretching and contracting as he attempted to roll himself off his back and get up.
For some reason he couldn’t explain, like some sort of deep-seated, buried instinct, Rangavar did not want to stick around for when the Gemian got up.
He turned and ran—er, no, not really, he thought to himself, as he entered an awkward, lurching-gait on his hind feet. It was sort of the opposite of running, actually. He kept staggering forward to almost fall on all fours again, the thought briefly flicking through his mind that he’d probably be able to go faster that way than whatever-the-fuck he was doing right now, stretching and flapping his wings for balance like a newborn.
The huge building where the Gemian and Faerian had originally emerged was right across the sidewalk, still the closest building nearby. It didn’t seem far. He’d go in there. And maybe, he realized, finally find someone who could help.
He heard another screech behind him, and cast a glance back over his shoulder, nearly losing his balance in the process. The Gemian was on all fours now, his shoulders hunched and shuddering, although his own body shape still looked incredibly normal. The most notable difference was the long, sprawling wings and their vague, almost shifting shape. He wasn’t glaring at Rangavar, per se, but he didn’t look happy. Or like any particular emotion, Rangavar decided. But he was clearly fixated on the Darkal, and it was even more incentive to leave.
Rangavar took several last, unsteady steps towards the door, catching himself on the frame. There wasn’t any glass in the way; looking around at the absolutely destroyed tile floor, he wasn’t quite sure where it had gone. But with the Gemian in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn’t be picky and dragged himself through the entrance.
There was a set of stairs on the side of the room that was completely collapsed, and an elevator slightly warped out of shape with one of the doors trapped open. No one seemed to be around, and the interior was mostly dark without power. There were several emergency lights emitting an eerie red glow to show Rangavar around.
He heard another screech behind him. His instinct was to get away from the Gemian, but this had turned out to be a dead end, and the one desk in the room was mostly destroyed; not a good hiding place. He glanced at the elevator. Didn’t most of them have a hatch on the ceiling?
Another screech.
He stumbled towards the elevator, the rubble not making his steps any easier. He eased his slender frame through the bend in the door where it buckled inwards and finally stood inside, which also seemed to have an emergency light, fortunately. Rangavar glanced up at the ceiling. There was a square outline. Now he just had to get up there.
More screeching outside. Rangavar wondered if maybe the Gemian wasn’t even interested in him, though. Why would the Gemian even be coming for him? The screeches could be pain or confusion or anything else. Maybe he’d just go away on his own.
Did Rangavar want to take that chance? Absolutely not.
He reached up for the hatch—and realized his elongated claws easily dug around the edges. First he was startled, expecting to have to jump to grab on, but then he noticed that his stretched feet made him taller. Well, at least something was going his way today.
A flicker of movement danced out the corner of his eye. His head turned sharply towards the bend in the elevator door. Through the gap he could see the Gemian stepping through the rubble, his gait normal, although he was hugging himself with his arms as if incredibly cold. He didn’t seem to be headed in any particular way, merely picking his way through the room and glancing around.
Rangavar felt really stupid for a moment. The Gemian was just… normal. Rangavar realized he’d completely overreacted. He should just go out and ask the Gemian what happened.
He changed his mind really fast when the Gemian caught sight of him, glancing sharply, directly at the elevator, and bared his teeth while staring with his empty blue eyes. Rangavar instinctively drew back a step at the intense glare. Nope. Nope nope nope. He turned back to the hatch and wrenched it open. He cast another glance back at the Gemian, who opened his mouth to reveal too many teeth. Well, their bodies had changed after all, but in a more horrifying way. Great.
Rangavar jumped for the hatch and scrabbled his way through into the shaft above. Unfortunately, there weren’t any emergency lights here, plunging him into near-darkness as his surroundings were lit only by the dim red light of the elevator below. Suddenly, he heard a metallic crash, and the entire elevator trembled beneath him. He glanced down to see the Gemian had not only followed him, but was right behind, and pushing his head up through the hatch… Rangavar kicked it down with his foot and heard a clang and an unhappy screech. Okay, after what the Gemian had said to him outside earlier, he admitted that felt pretty good.
His heart was still beating fast though as he looked around for another exit. Since the shaft had been plunged into darkness when he slammed the hatch closed, he could see a faint outline of light around the doors to the floor above him. He supposed he should probably thank the Gemian, but would resist this time.
He leapt for the next level, his weird, long feet giving him the ability to spring farther, and he grabbed the edge and dragged himself up. He wedged his claws between the doors and pushed until he could fit both paws between them, moving them apart as well as hanging his own weight off of them until he forced them wide enough to wiggle through the gap. There was still banging and screeching in the elevator beneath him. He wondered how long it would take the Gemian to get the hatch back open. Probably not long.
Fortunately, Rangavar was up, and inched the doors back closed again. He stumbled over to a nearby desk and sank to the floor, finally releasing a pent up sigh. At least he could rest a moment and catch his breath while the other dragon screamed and clawed his way into the elevator shaft. Maybe he wouldn’t even know Rangavar had made it onto this floor, instead climbing up and up and up… Rangavar wasn’t sure how good the Gemian’s senses were now that he’d become a screeching monster. Or, well, more of a screeching monster than he had been before his transformation.
Rangavar glanced around the wrecked room, still no one in sight. He supposed he had his own apparent transformation to mentally process, but it seemed the end of the world was getting in the way, so it would have to wait until later.
There was a significant bang from the elevator shaft, and then the scrabbling of claws. Rangavar pricked his ears. Well, if the Gemian figured out what floor he was on, then he needed to get out of here. Or, alternatively, he wondered if he should stand his ground this time; surrounded by destroyed furniture, he finally had some stuff to pick up and use to fight.
He wrenched the leg off of an overturned table, which seemed to be the heaviest readily-available thing in the room to work with. Then, he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long; all of the scratching and banging stopped outside of his floor level. He half-crouched, the table leg held back and ready to swing for when the doors flew open.
Except… they didn’t. He saw three long claws extend through the door, but not through the crack or anything. They came through the door itself without a single reaction from the metal surface, followed by an arm, a shoulder…
The Darkal leapt back with a yelp as the Gemian suddenly phased through the metal door, in all his horrifying, screeching glory, and lunged. Rangavar swung—and wondered why he’d thought that would work, after the wooden object passed right through the dragon.
The Gemian didn’t pass through him, though, he unfortunately found out. The slightly larger dragon slammed into him, his huge talons wrapping over Rangavar’s shoulders, and forced him down on the ground where he crouched on the Darkal’s chest, surprisingly heavy for something intangible.
Rangavar tried to push him off, but his form seemed to shift and change shape beneath his paws, perpetually fading away from his searching grasp. The Gemian remained on top of him, staring down at him with his empty blue eyes, his mouth opening to reveal an extra two rows of teeth. Drool rolled out of the dragon’s mouth onto Rangavar’s face as he opened his jaws wide and leaned slowly towards Rangavar’s throat…
The Gemian’s head snapped up, ears pricked as if he’d suddenly heard something. Without another moment wasted, he abruptly leapt off of Rangavar, spreading his wings as if in flight and plunged directly through the nearest wall.
Rangavar just lay on the floor for a moment, arms outstretched, panting. He felt so good to be alive. He really liked being alive.
He reached up an arm to wipe drool off his face. He had no idea where the other dragon had gone, but hopefully, he wouldn’t come back looking for him. Rangavar pulled himself off the floor and slowly, unsteadily tried hauling himself back to his feet, barely successful. He forced himself to stand, though. He needed to get out of here.
And he needed to find help.
Category Story / Transformation
Species Dragon (Other)
Size 107 x 120px
File Size 47.1 kB
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