shatterverse | (no subject)

Entry tags:

nhim,
shem

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Somewhere in the Rockies is a rather large cave. Skulls and bones are strewn outside - some deer, some human, but most clearly not of this world.

Inside the cave is a tapestry depicting a courtly festival, a large collection of Asian art, some American Indian beadwork, and a variety of religious paintings. Shem's trip to the Denver Art Museum yielded amazing results (for him - the museum now has dragon-shaped, lightning-scorched holes in it), though the flight back to his cave destroyed too many paintings for his liking.

Most of these pieces of art are set on large rocks. Shem will see to the proper display and mounting of his pieces later - every day he wracks his brain to figure out his new cave's aesthetic. When he's not thinking of a way to create human slaves who can steal paintings and sculptures for him and transport them back unharmed.

Shem has been a busy dragon since he changed worlds. Right now he's flying over a small valley ten minutes away from his cave, looking below for food.

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Apparently, there's game about-someone's already been lucky in their hunting. While Oliver has been tending to matters on the farm, Nhim has traveled west, scouting territory. The cold weather has made travel easier on her, being back in her element, and it's pleasant to be able to see mountains again. She had missed proper landscapes, after hunting on the plains for so long.

The game here is small, but adequate enough-at the moment she's eating from two mule deer she managed to down, crouched in the valley below Shem. With her attention on her meal, and with no fear of being attacked by anything else, she doesn't take notice. Shem, however, is likely to notice the dragon-shaped brown patch below.

Shem does. He's met some trolls, some gnolls, some nasty creatures even he can't name, but this is the first dragon he's seen.

A dragon that's in his territory.

A low growl wells up in his throat and his frill extends. Were he a brute sort, he would bellow a challenge. But Shem prefers to deal with this with flair.

He folds his wings and dives at a clear spot in the valley, one closer to the mountain, which gives him more height than the intruder. His wings shoot open before he hits the ground. He lands heavily, frill extended, blue sparks dance across his gaping jaws.

It's now that he looks fully on the intruder. The sparks disappear and Shem's jaws snap closed. It takes a moment for him to be able to speak.

"...Mother?"

The sudden movement from the sky does catch Nhim's attention in the corner of her eye, and she jerks her head up in alarm, momentarily baring still-bloody fangs. Her spine flare out to the sides like a cobra's hood, and she growls for a moment before faltering as she recognizes the new arrival.

Her spines flatten back and her ears prick forward-granted, she's worried about Shem's chosen path, and she's still worried about what he may have gotten up to, but...it's wonderful to see one of her children again.

"Shem?"

He shakes his massive head a few times. Gradually, his frill smooths against his neck.

The spikes on his tail raise and flatten for a few moments, a nervous tic he's never successfully rid himself of. He's not sure what he feels. On the one paw, this is the poor fool he's spent his adult life pitying. On the other paw, it's...hard to say the things he's always imagined saying to her now that she's actually here.

"It is I," he says haughtily, "and these mountains are my territory. You are, of course, welcome to the deer."

He makes no mention of her being welcome to stay.

She nods, looking around at the mountains. Well, for all his faults, she can't say that poor choice in territory is one of them. "I was traveling for similar reasons. I was growing tired of the plains-and the heat."

Her ears remain pricked forward as she looks at him. Gods, it's been a long time since she's seen him-not since he'd left the nest. "You've grown. You're almost as large as your father was, now." It's a good sign that he's been healthy and looking after himself, at least.

The remark about his father stirs both pleasure and pain in the younger dragon. Muscles tightening under his coat is his only visible reaction. It's been so long since he thought of his murdered father as anything other than a symbol of what was wrong with the world.

Shem's snout wrinkles. "You were teleported here on the plains? How ghastly. My portal brought me not too far from here."

"How long ago? I've been here since the spring or so-hunting has been easy enough. It's a proper place for a hoard that's been difficult." She pauses, then asks hopefully, "I don't suppose your brother or sisters are here, too?"

"At the beginning of fall."

Shem winces at the news that she doesn't have a hoard. "Terrible." When you put as much value as Shem does in material things, it certainly is.

He shakes his head at the question, feeling no loss. Dragon biology being what it is, his siblings were all grown when he was born, and he only ever met one.

"I met somedrake claiming to be Theros the Black, briefly. Fifty-some years back." The fangs he bares at the memory show how well that went.

Nhim, for her part, frowns at the baring of teeth and sighs. "He spoke to me of that afterwards," she admits, her ears going back slightly. "He and Lafet both came to visit-I had to dissuade your sister from attempting to claim part of your hide. They were...irritated, to say the least."

Lafet the Bloodied. Shem knows that sister by reputation only, and is suddenly very glad of his mother's maternal instincts.

Not that he shows any of this, spreading his frill as he does and snapping, "A dragon protecting an elven caravan - pah! Such a job is a disgrace to our species!"

Shem's still bitter that he failed to rob the caravan guarded by that disgrace to his species.

"Shem." Oh, look. It's the Mom Disapproves of Your Outburst voice!

"Our family has been allied to the northern elves for ages, ever since Skiraut the Silver decided to take them under his wing. We have also aided elves from other areas, as needed. Not to mention that I have had many elven friends and allies, and carried them into battle. Elves are to be spoken to respectfully-unlike many, they return the favor, and recognize a common bond."

Shem's ears begin to droop. He fights off a cub's instincts a moment later, and perks them.

He snorts and raises a wing dismissively. "Not everyone lives bound by chains forged by those dead for millennia."

"The tradition was created for a reason, Shem. By having allies, we both gain advantages-the elves benefit from our help in defending themselves, and we..." She sighs, her own ears going back. "They help to deter slayers from our territories. Several times I was later given word that a known slayer who attempted to enter your father and I's territory had already been dealt with by an elven ranger."

A loud growl bursts from Shem's throat. "They did not stop every slayer, did they?"

Nhim's spines flare out again, and she gives Shem a disapproving look. "There is a difference between a professional slayer and a frightened farm boy, Shem. King Roland did not come looking to kill anyone; he came looking for assistance and made a mistake. A dreadful mistake, yes, but given the circumstances..."

"And my father - your mate - paid the price for one worthless human's cowardice!" Blue sparks arc from Shem's gaping jaws.

Nhim must remember these arguments well, though in Shem's nestling days they were wailed in grief instead of roared in hatred.

The sparks get a growl and a flat "Shem." from Nhim. Don't threaten to blast your mother, Shem; it's not polite.

"A human who proved his worth in turning the tide against the opposing armies. Had he not been driven to fight, and eventually lead an army in hopes of redeeming himself, it's very likely everything in the northern kingdoms would have fallen, Shem. Including our territory."

Nhim used to be a great fighter. But after getting up there in the years, and with a nestling to defend-well, she knew how things would've likely ended, had the undead invaded her territory.

Shem, having not realized he was sparking, stops when asked. He manages to make closing his jaw look sulky.

He takes a deep breath in. "No matter," he says, regaining some of his usual smoothness, "the so-named good king Roland will be dealt with soon enough."

Nhim's spines remain flared, and she eyes Shem carefully. "Shem. What have you been doing?" She steps forward, ears rising up as well-more alert than anything.

"Oh, hunting, tending to my hoard, that sort of thing." Pause. "Or perhaps you meant back home?" he adds smugly.

"You know what I meant, Shem." Her ears flip back and she snorts quietly, her tail's plume whipping at the snow.

"A new power rises to topple the old, and the light of a new sun will soon grace the kingdoms of the north!" His wings spread with the force of his narration. "Great events have been set in motion. I was to have been a part of them," a faint frown, "but even though I am here I am content. It cannot be stopped. Not now."

The reason he's being so vague is A) he's still a bit player in those events and B) he doesn't want to give away the Namebreaker's plans. If Nhim ever gets back home the first thing she'll do is give any information she learns to King Roland.

Nhim, however, can get the gist of it. She's been around for awhile, and heard similar-usually in reference to good triumphing over evil, but this case, dealing with King Roland...well, the human has proven to be a good king, and had tried to repent for what he's done. Shem's speech prompts a sound he's likely never heard directed at him from his mother-a low, truly angry growl.

Shem fought his own brother - as if his mother's growl bothers him!

(His ears do begin to twitch backward. Just for an instant.)

He stares her levelly in the eye, frill spreading and tail-spikes raised, a grin tugging at his muzzle.

The frill spreading is actually a good opening for her-without warning, Nhim snakes her head forward and bites Shem, clamping down his neck behind his ears, where there aren't any spines yet to get the way. She growls and shakes him roughly, but it's not a killing bite. Instead, it's part reprimand, part show of anger, and part insult-it's the same sort of bite an adult gives to an aggravating nestling that needs to be put in its place.

Shem responds much as he did in his nestlings tantrums, though his age and size make his squawk a bellow and his flailing about involves hitting Nhim's side with tail-spikes larger than a man's forearm.

There's a grunted snarl in response-while her fur does cushion the blow slightly, it's not much, and the spikes are still painful. Nhim clamps down harder, ears pinning back. She's been through worse than this, and she's driven by real anger this time.

Shem's next below has an embarrassing element of whine to it; though he still struggles, he no longer swings his tail at her.

Nhim just snarls and shakes again, keeping her jaws clamped down. Her ears do begin to prick forward, even as her eyes stay narrowed.

Shem continues to struggle and roar, panting, claws tearing gouges in the soil below.

Nhim is getting tired as well-clamping down that hard, despite the struggling, is work-but she holds her ground, her own claws digging in.

Can you match the stubbornness of old age, Shem?

Shem's abhorrence of pain gives way before Nhim's stubbornness does.

He goes limp and gives a short chirrup-whine that sulkily signals defeat.

Nhim releases him, pinning her ears back and glaring down at her son. "You have no idea how lucky you are, Shem. No idea whatsoever."

Shem scrambles backward, further up the slope so he's even higher than her.

Shem can only form words when he isn't burning up with shame.

He manages a low growl.

Nhim growls back, her ears still flattened. "If you were still in our proper world, your sister would have killed you as soon as she heard word."

Shem roars.

"She would have died under the claws of the Namebreaker's dragon hoards!"

Sometime during their 'fight' he forgot about his resolution not to tell Nhim anything.

It hurts like hell, but Nhim forces herself to lunge forward. Her roar comes more from pain at trying to force her crippled leg to work properly than anything else. She snaps, aiming to grab Shem by the neck again. "What?"

Shem is ready this time. He rears onto his hind-legs, twisting his body to the left and using the force to aim a powerful blow at the left side of her head.

The claws will do minimal damage if they hit: his goal is to topple her. He's betting her bad leg can't support the blow.

And sure enough, it works. The blow makes her stagger, and her leg gives under the sudden shift in her weight to the side. She bellows angrily as she goes down, her spines flaring to their fullest again.

Shem rarely has the courage to fight with other dragons - he has to plan what he does next instead of acting on trained instinct. He reacts a few seconds after her body hits the ground.

He lunges, trying to land his forepaws on her throat and jaw (to keep it closed so she can't use her breath weapon) and his hindpaws on her stomach.

Nhim finds herself caught, but doesn't go still-instead, her claws grind into the dirt as she attempts to force herself back onto her feet. Her tail whips around, lashing at Shem-however, it only ends in a plume of fur, rather than spikes, so it's more an annoying distraction than an actual danger.

Shem brings as much weight as he can to bear, growling, "Don't-- you-- dare--!"

To back up his threat, his jaws spark with electricity.

The threat doesn't stop her struggling, even as the forepaw on her throat and jaw start making her try to cough-a difficult task, with Shem's forefeet where they are. She glares at him defiantly, her ears going as flat as they can and her spikes remaining raised.

It takes a lot of electricity to take down a dragon. Shem has never needed to know how much before this moment.

It takes him two tries to get it right.

Needless to say, it's something of a relief for Nhim when she finally goes down.

Shem staggers off of Nhim, panting.

"It is you who are lucky, mother," he snarls when he has the breath. "For I am willing to let the past remain in the past. For now."

He looks at her for a long, contemplative moment. Then he grabs her kill in his jaws and flies to his new lair.

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