[ ‘wretched kind’ actually makes the dragon smile, a reptile rictus, bloodstained from where soldiers had took swords to his muzzle and from where the mages’ spell burns into his flesh. ] We’ll see who may be the more wretched of us all. [ he’s proud of his life as a dragon, his long lived solitary reign over skies and mountains. when compared against this prince’s bloodstained reign over his war-torn nation…
well actually, maybe he’ll refrain from casting judgment, when this prince’s nation or his enemies nearly brought him down, when he just barely narrowly avoids death by this dying human’s sword. he can’t claim to be so infallible. and there’s something about the brittle emptiness of the prince’s eyes that draws him in somehow, like the expanse of sky he longs to return to when unchained.
something of this pact is like a deal with the devil, this exchange and strengthening of power. but he can’t even say which of them would be the devil, or if the both of them would be, damning each other.
he struggles to open his jaws enough to uncoil his dragon’s tongue, dripping with ichor; a blood pact and exchange to seal their contract. exchanging lifeblood would empower the both of them, when dragon’s blood is toxic, magically potent, either ambrosia or venom or both at once depending on the spell it’s used in. this one is an offering of his power, and seeking this human’s so he can free himself. there may be something inherently blasphemous and powerful about humans, despite how seemingly delicate and weak they are. maybe there’s something naturally wicked like war in the blood of humans, he would taste it for himself, from childe. ]
Your lifeblood.
Mine will heal you. [ quickly now, before childe might just keel over from that spear wound straight through his body. ]
no subject
well actually, maybe he’ll refrain from casting judgment, when this prince’s nation or his enemies nearly brought him down, when he just barely narrowly avoids death by this dying human’s sword. he can’t claim to be so infallible. and there’s something about the brittle emptiness of the prince’s eyes that draws him in somehow, like the expanse of sky he longs to return to when unchained.
something of this pact is like a deal with the devil, this exchange and strengthening of power. but he can’t even say which of them would be the devil, or if the both of them would be, damning each other.
he struggles to open his jaws enough to uncoil his dragon’s tongue, dripping with ichor; a blood pact and exchange to seal their contract. exchanging lifeblood would empower the both of them, when dragon’s blood is toxic, magically potent, either ambrosia or venom or both at once depending on the spell it’s used in. this one is an offering of his power, and seeking this human’s so he can free himself. there may be something inherently blasphemous and powerful about humans, despite how seemingly delicate and weak they are. maybe there’s something naturally wicked like war in the blood of humans, he would taste it for himself, from childe. ]
Your lifeblood.
Mine will heal you. [ quickly now, before childe might just keel over from that spear wound straight through his body. ]