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Despite hiding it so far, Rangavar's past might be finally catching up with him. And the powerful, mysterious dragon he works for might be pushing him towards it faster than he'd like.
Meanwhile, Arro believes that all is well, spending more and more time with one of his friends, and getting closer to him than ever.
Why am I uploading in the middle of they day? Hell if I know.
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This was one of the hardest chapters to write so far, it's sort of long, and very Plot™.
Hive Mind
Chapter 7
Shift was going well. Kraz thought he’d gotten away with putting a shipping label sticker on the middle of Rangavar’s back, but it took him an hour to notice that Rangavar had discreetly moved it onto Kraz’s instead. The buff Faerian couldn’t reach it from between his shoulder blades, having to pause and remove his jacket.
Rangavar leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed, the corner of his mouth quirked up as he watched the ordeal.
“Yeah, ha-ha, you got me.”
“Add this to your list of workouts.”
“Fuck you.”
It was nice to be back at work with an actual friend. Since Rangavar had that weird gap in shifts due to his injury, this was only his second shift since they’d all been mixed up, and he was glad he hadn’t seen the black dragon again.
He was startled when he was suddenly called into the office.
Rangavar went in anxiously, trying to think of something he may have done. The incident the other day came to mind, of course, although he couldn’t imagine getting into trouble for that. It hadn’t been his fault. Maybe it was just a follow-up?
Fortunately, the dragon within wasn’t in a bad mood or anything, so he got the feeling he wasn’t in trouble. She didn’t wait for Rangavar to sit. “I was actually just instructed to come meet you here. I’m to take you downstairs, since most of the dragons who work in these offices don’t even know there is a downstairs.” She gave a wry smile. “But I’m not the dragon you’ll be meeting with.”
Rangavar relaxed a little as he followed her. So, he didn’t need to talk to his supervisor or anything. That was good. But he wondered if he should be a bit anxious anyway; what could they possibly need him for downstairs? That was usually reserved for emergencies.
Such as when the wraith escaped the other day.
Still, he felt weirdly calm as he descended the stairs behind the green Faerian. Admittedly, after a week like this, he should probably be ready for anything. But how many bad things could be packed into a week?
They walked down the same long corridor where the confrontation with the wraith had happened, but this time passed the containment cell room, continuing onward until they came to a stop in front of a rather plain door that didn’t stand out from the others. What was different about it was the overwhelming aura behind it that Rangavar was becoming too familiar with.
The other dragon gestured at it. “Well, here you are. Good luck with your meeting.”
He wondered if she had any idea how much luck he actually needed.
When he tentatively pushed open the door, he was greeted by what appeared to be an office setup, although only one dragon was inside. Unlike last time, the female Darkal now had fangs that curled past her bottom lip. Her previously average white wings were massive, covered with blade-shaped feathers, the tips golden around the translucent, pleasant rose color in the center of each one that shone like stained glass. She was leaning to the side in a chair, one of her long, slender legs over the other.
She rose suddenly, taking several steps toward him, significantly taller than him as a Glitarian than she had been the other day in her regular Darkal state. He forced himself not to step back, keeping her gaze as she approached. He noticed himself fidgeting and lowered his claws. He always hated that she had that effect.
She noticed him drop his paws to his sides, and suddenly took one, inspecting it. His claws looked tiny next to her talons. “Your coworkers noticed you have black blood,” she said suddenly.
He never had any idea what weird shit she was about to say or do. It seemed to be sort of her thing. “Yeah.”
She eyed him thoughtfully. Analyzing him. “You were born in Edaca.”
He stood awkwardly as she apparently finished looking for whatever it was she’d been seeking on his paw and allowed it to fall back to his side. “So?” He didn’t know what to expect. The only thing he knew to expect from her was mind games.
She smiled at him then. There was nothing warm or friendly about it. “Thousands of years ago, if your coworkers found out you were Edacan, it would have been a death sentence.”
He didn’t know what she wanted to him to say to that. He just knew that her comment was meant to make him uneasy, and it worked.
She looked away slightly. “What do you think would happen if your coworkers knew what really happened to everyone on Glitara?”
Rangavar watched her blankly, unsure of what she was getting at.
After a moment, she rolled her eyes. “Every era has its targets. Edacans… Darkals…… Glitarians.” She dragged out the last pause especially long as she eyed him.
Slowly, he said back, “You… you think it would be a ‘death sentence’?”
She glanced back at him. “If they knew about the wraiths? And about… what being stranded there, all those years, did to the rest of us?” Her gaze was oddly sincere for a moment. “Without a doubt.”
Rangavar caught himself fidgeting again and forced his paws back to his sides.
She continued, “In order to help the wraiths, it’s imperative that we don’t draw attention to ourselves. In any way.” Her eyes narrowed. “Including from our non-Glitarian coworkers.”
Oh. That’s what she was getting at. Rangavar readily nodded. “I mean… I didn’t want to get hit in the face with a box.”
She dismissively waved a paw. “Whenever you’re supposed to have a shift with that Faerian, from now on I want you to start working down here instead. Where you really should be, anyway.” She grinned then, baring her long, curved fangs. “You were on Glitara with the rest of us, after all.”
He realized he was fidgeting again. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
She caught his expression as easily as she read his aura. Nothing got by her. “Don’t be intimidated. I assure you, you will find that your job down here will be very much the same.” She suddenly put what looked like an amicable paw on his shoulder, but clenching slightly too tight. She grinned again, although there was still nothing genuine behind it. “You’ll just have more access to the more… ‘Glitarian’ aspects of this facility. Consider it more like a promotion.”
“Why?” he suddenly asked. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable grip on his shoulder. It was distracting, but not the reason that he couldn’t figure out how to form a more coherent question. Why him? Why now? “There are dozens of Glitarians down here pledged to you. I’m just…”
“Nobody?” she supplied.
He couldn’t decide if he was supposed to be offended or not.
At his blank stare, she smiled darkly. “I have to admit, you intrigue me, Rangavar.”
He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to intrigue her.
“What happened with the wraith the other day was an accident, but it really just proved that we’ve all become too complacent,” she went on. “We can’t afford that with something this dangerous. We’re upping security down here. Taking things more seriously.”
Slowly, he nodded again. That made sense. Of course that made sense.
She studied him a long moment, her golden eyes unwavering. He forced himself not to react as he met her gaze. “And you agreed to help us. And the wraiths. It’s why you’re here. Why I allow you to be here,” she amended. “Instead of… well. Instead of your less, ‘favorable’ options.”
“I want to help you study them,” he quickly agreed. “I just… What does that have to do with being Glitarian?” He was still trying to appear unfazed by her hard grip, but felt his concentration waning, and only wanted a straight answer. He wondered if she was even capable of delivering one, or if that wouldn’t play into whatever agenda she was keeping.
Unaware, she went on, “I’ve pointed out multiple times that you’re Glitarian, and you keep… ignoring, that.” She finally let go of his shoulder. His scales felt bruised. She was really strong. “And the ‘normal’ dragons on the upper floor don’t have bodies that are… adequate, for the task of handling wraiths. They don’t have the same strength and speed.” She titled her head at him. “Even if they knew about the wraiths, they would be useless to us.”
He suddenly caught himself fidgeting again. Vaugh dammit.
“But that’s where we come in. Glitarians. Particularly Darkal Glitarians.” Despite the smug smile she spoke with, her eyes were still earnest. “We’re the only ones who can keep the wraiths under control down here while our researchers figure out how to make them dragons again.”
Rangavar nodded. It was part of why he’d agreed to stay at the research facility. He knew what she was getting at, though, and just wished it didn’t include dredging up the Glitarian abilities he’d tried to put behind him when he left that cursed world.
The Glitarian Darkal knew what he was thinking. Sometimes, he wondered if she did read his mind. It had been illegal for thousands of years, but she didn’t exactly seem like the law-abiding type. “You’re stuck with your powers. We all are. But we have the chance to make use of them here.” She gestured around vaguely. “We have the chance to help them.”
She was right. He knew she was right.
She stared down at him, still towering over him. It made him flatten his ears. “Yet, you’re resisting. Why?”
“I just…” He tried to think of a legitimate answer. There was one. “I’m just tired of my form changing,” he settled on. That was the word. Tired. “I like being an average Darkal. And what happened on Glitara was the first time a ‘change’ hasn’t been permanent. I have the option to be… normal.” He lowered his fidgeting paws to his sides. Again. “Or at least pretend.”
She watched him curiously. “And… isn’t that liberating?” Her dark grin returned. “You can choose when to be a Darkal, and when to be a Glitarian Darkal.”
He didn’t state the obvious, which was that he really didn’t get to choose, since she was forcing him into the latter role.
Her grin showed all her teeth. “You may be an outlier. But you are, at the end of the day, one of us. We’re all obligated to help the wraiths.” She went on. “Then, you’re free to go. I’ll admit I’m rather indifferent to the idea of you staying afterwards.”
Rangavar nodded. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. As it was, he hadn’t originally been doing this to help the research facility. He hadn’t started out doing this for the wraiths. He’d been doing this for Arro, when the Darkal standing before him kept using her powers to mess with the Faerian’s mind. She’d agreed to put an end to that if he joined her, and so far, she’d kept her word.
As soon as the wraiths were cured, though, he’d finally get to slip back into a normal life. He was looking forward to it.
“Until then, I will have you down here. Just whenever that dragon who attacked you the other day—Zark, or whatever his name is—has a shift with you.”
Slowly, he nodded again.
She wasn’t upset by his continued silence. She finally turned away from him. “Just don’t forget. Come down here when you see him again.”
He wouldn’t forget.
She dismissed him. “Now go.”
He did.
Kraz stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, oblivious to Rangavar’s quiet demeanor. Rangavar sat by and absently watched the wind sway the trees outside the window. He hadn’t brought lunch. He never did. It wasn’t actually too unusual for the Darkal to be quiet, so he understood why the pale gray Faerian didn’t notice, blissfully oblivious.
“Why are you so quiet?”
Maybe not so oblivious.
Rangavar looked over at him, wondering what excuse he could possibly manage.
“Did you get in trouble? Was that the meeting?”
Oh. Of course he’d think that. It would make sense. “Not exactly.” Rangavar looked away and chewed absently on his lip, trying to think of an explanation that would sound sane. Something other than ‘The powerful shapeshifting Darkal that secretly runs this facility brought me down to the secret parts of the building to discuss secret things’.
Kraz frowned at him as he stood and threw his sandwich wrapper away. “Well?”
“It was about the other day.” He thought that was true enough.
“Ohh yeah. Someone threw a box at you? Everyone was talking about it,” Kraz nodded knowingly. He looked Rangavar up and down. “You look great though, for someone who had a box thrown at him.”
Rangavar allowed himself a small smile. “Thanks. Darkal healing magic and all that.”
“That’s so cool. I wish I could do magic.”
Rangavar snorted. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds. And physically, you could probably break someone in half, which is more than most dragons can do.” He gestured at Kraz’s physique. He could think whatever he wanted about Kraz and his obsessive work at the gym, but he had to admit it did get results.
They headed out of the break room, Kraz lagging behind as he closed the door behind them. “You could break someone in half with magic, and that’s cool,” he called after him. He caught back up a moment later. “Instead of using magic to heal, why didn’t you use it to stop the box?”
“I wasn’t expecting the box.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
They returned to work, remaining partnered for the day. It was odd to think that they might not be tomorrow, or maybe for several days after. They’d taken their shifts for granted, work at the facility seeming so systematically steady.
As usual, the day also ended pretty uneventfully. They stood outside waiting for the transport together. It wasn’t late, but the sun was setting. It always set early on Karraden.
“You’re still welcome to come to the gym with me,” said Kraz idly.
“Heh. I think I’ll pass.”
“Don’t you want to break someone in half without magic?”
Rangavar made a face at him, and Kraz grinned.
Arro wasn’t home when Rangavar got back. That was fine. He was probably at the gym. Or, with one of his work friends, which he’d been doing a lot of lately. Rangavar tried not to think about it.
He actually had his own plans anyway. He took off at a jog down the street, easily enough since he went running every morning. Everyone was constantly encouraging him to go to the gym, but he didn’t see why he should bother. He was getting plenty of exercise.
As it was, it wasn’t long before he reached the side of the housing community where it trailed off into dense woods. There weren’t any actual paths into the woods—why would there be?—but there was a bit of a matted trail from Rangavar passing through here before, and he followed that, wondering if maybe it would someday become a path as he continued to walk it back and forth. Was that how paths were made? Hell if he knew.
He was familiar with this section of woods by now, the sounds, scents, and sight of his surroundings comforting, even as the sun finally descended beneath the horizon. Being a Darkal, his eyes adjusted easily, and when he finally stepped out into a small, clear area, the moon lit a section of bare stone that dropped off at a cliff.
Rangavar crouched, putting his forepaws upon the cool, smooth stone beneath him, thinking back on earlier today. The other Darkal—whose name she had still not given him—seemed to care an awful lot about him joining the other Glitarians guarding the labs. All that stuff about how they were necessary for controlling the wraiths. She wanted him to help. She wanted him to use his powers.
Little did she know that he already did.
He focused on the Glitarian magic buried deep in his aura, forcing it to the surface. He squeezed his eyes shut against the inevitable pain that came with it, and yet still let out an involuntary growl as his spine cracked and his hind paws elongated, placing them on his toes. His black claws curved into slightly longer talons like the other Glitarian’s today. He wobbled and lost his balance, his shoulders popping into slightly new positions. Unable to push against the ground to keep himself up, his arms gave out next. His frontside dropped to the cool stone, the claws on his forepaws digging into the weathered surface where he lay, although his fingers kept their dexterous shape.
He was then overcome by the pain of his body contorting, crying out again with a growl as his wings sprouted blade-like feathers. A feeling like thousands of tiny daggers piercing his flesh made their surface burn. He writhed, panting, his talons tearing at the stone as the feathers blossomed from the depths of his fur and moved into place. They took over his wings, replacing the dense, gray tufts of fur with long, sleek shafts. His were black as the night, rather than gold and glassy like a female.
Suddenly, he felt his fangs extend from his upper gums, eventually passing his bottom lip. That was always the end. He finally collapsed the rest of the way to the ground, his head lolling against the cool stone, his teeth gritted against the subsiding pain. He did nothing but lie weakly for a moment as the pain abated and he gathered his strength.
When he’d come to Karraden, he’d been so excited to put this behind him. He hadn’t anticipated meeting the Glitarian Darkal at the research facility. He hadn’t anticipated her ultimatum about his abilities. Nor her new little demands today, that he go be Glitarian downstairs or something. Fuck her.
It was a while before he was able to push himself slowly back to his hind feet, taller than before, his shoulders slightly broader, his wings larger. He could never hope to match her Glitarian height, but no male Darkal could. Even most Faerians, probably.
He staggered forward several steps on the balls of his feet, his toes farther from his ankles than usual and splayed slightly as he re-adjusted his balance to match their current form. He stopped on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the steep drop. There was actually a river distantly below, having carved its way through the ground over countless millennia until it left only oddly jutting rock towers, the water weaving its way around their bases. Several millennia more from now, even those would probably collapse. Just not yet.
He dragged his gaze away from the water to look at the nearest jutting pillar. He looked down at the water again. Then, at the pillar. He spread his broad, black wings. He jumped.
The wind rushed across his body, ruffling the new feathers as he used them to catch the air during his leap. No biped could fly—the idea was laughable—but the Darkals trapped on Glitara’s cursed surface had quickly adapted their transformed bodies to do something akin to gliding.
Rangavar struck the column of stone with all fours, scrabbling up to crouch on top and seek out the next nearest one. He wondered what exactly Arro thought he did for exercise. It seemed like common sense that he wasn’t developing his upper body strength from running, but the Faerian never asked.
Selecting a new target, he finally jumped again, his black wings an outstretched outline beneath the moon’s glow. He supposed if one thing the other Darkal said were true, it was the stuff she said about being unable to escape his Glitarian powers. He readily jumped from one stone tower to the next, four scaly limbs working, both wings working, moving his body across the narrow peaks.
He knew he couldn’t run away from them forever. He needed to embrace them.
The hovercycles whirred pleasantly beneath the two Faerians as they sped down the streets beneath the same moon elsewhere on Karraden. The powerful hum of the glowing blue pad underneath that gave them their ability to levitate reached Arro’s ears, the same powerful force that allowed ships to fly; it easily carried his weight. Although it was true that the sides of his ass and thighs hung off the wide seat more than he would have liked.
Zark was ahead of him, his own cycle able to speed slightly faster with a narrower seat installed, also giving it a sleeker look. His black scales glinted beneath the streetlights they passed. At one point, he slowed slightly and cast a glance back at Arro, giving the pale-red Faerian a half-grin.
Arro shot back a determined grin of his own, leaning over the console at the front between the handlebars—at least as far as his bulging gut would allow—and tried to shift the hovercycle into a higher gear to keep up. It was a bit difficult, since the metal plate on the front was bent oddly, making some of the controls harder to adjust. Zark had done his best fixing it up from spare parts, of course, but it wasn’t perfect.
The one that the smaller black dragon was riding was the one that his unofficial client had abandoned, also a little wonky, but both cycles worked, which was what mattered.
The dragon ahead suddenly took a sharp corner. Arro followed behind, his vehicle rocking a bit far to the side as it strained to pull his formidable weight back on track. The same invisible force emitted by the glowing pad underneath dragged it upright as Arro continued to speed after him.
They didn’t pull up next to each other or bother talking until they were both back at Zark’s house. Arro glanced up at the night sky, a bit worried about how late it had gotten without his notice. He’d been busy having fun. He wondered what Rangavar thought he was doing. Probably that he was at the gym. It would make sense to the Darkal.
“You can have it, if you want.”
“Huh?”
Zark hopped off his own cycle and began to drag it around the back of the house by one of the handles, the vehicle bobbing slightly as he pulled. “I’m moving tomorrow, and don’t want to bother with it. The hell would I need three of these things for anyway?” He gestured at the other one on the ground as he rounded the corner. “I think I’m going to just abandon that one. Without getting the bottom to power up, it’s basically a hunk of garbage. Missing parts and all.”
Arro frowned. “What are you doing with this one, then?”
Zark casually crossed his arms. “Like I said, you can have it.”
“What, for free?” Arro scoffed. He knew he couldn’t afford the thing.
“Yeah.”
The larger Faerian paused. “What? Really?”
Zark shrugged. “I’d rather give it away than just scrap it. And, uh, the seat is too big for most people.” He grimaced. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
They stared at each other a moment. Arro cleared his throat. “So, you really—”
“Just take the damn cycle, Arro.” Zark’s brow was furrowed, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Consider it a gift.”
Arro pressed his index fingers together. “I can’t repay you,” he warned. He wasn’t even sure what would. “Just…” He didn’t even know what to say. “Thank you,” he managed.
The other dragon shrugged again. “Just glad to see it go somewhere worthwhile.”
Arro nodded, feeling a bit stunned.
“Did you want to get going? I know you have a companion to get back to.”
Right. Arro thought about that. If he headed home, he’d still get to spend time with Rangavar.
On the other paw, Zark was looking at him expectantly. Arro wondered if it would be rude to traipse off so suddenly after he’d been so generous. He glanced at his wristband. He could always just call Rangavar. Or, the Darkal could call him. He hesitantly glanced back up at Zark. “Well… do you maybe want to go grab food?”
Rangavar was pleasantly tired when he slipped back into the house. He frowned and looked around when he noticed that Arro’s aura was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t possibly still be at the gym. Could he? It was technically real ‘evening’ now, despite the sun having gone down hours ago. Even the gym would be closing soon.
He trudged up the stairs and lay down in bed. It was okay. Maybe even for the best, since he was tired anyway.
Or, well, he thought he was. As he lay there, he couldn’t quiet his anxious thoughts about his meeting with his boss. And even deeper, at the very back of his mind, was his curiosity about what Arro might be up to.
He startled as the door opened downstairs. He must have managed to doze off after all. Arro tried to be quiet as he climbed the stairs, his heavy footsteps not quite doing a good job, and Rangavar debated on whether he should pretend to be asleep or not.
The much larger dragon was careful as he climbed onto the bed, obviously trying not to wake him despite shaking the entire mattress with his weight. Finally, Rangavar moved over a little to give him more room, and could feel Arro grow embarrassed upon noticing he’d woken the smaller dragon. Rangavar obviously couldn’t see while facing away, but knew him well enough to assume he was probably blushing.
“Sorry,” Arro whispered.
Rangavar sighed. “It’s alright.”
The larger dragon squished up behind him, his heaving gut pressing into Rangavar’s back, threatening to either swallow him or push him off the bed. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if Arro ever rolled over on him in his sleep. He’d die, probably. And Arro, too, but with embarrassment.
The Faerian finally settled himself and reached a tentative arm around Rangavar’s waist. “I was out with a friend,” he whispered suddenly. Like he felt the need to explain. “I meant to call you. Or you could have called me, I guess.”
“Why are you whispering?” Rangavar said back softly. “We’re both awake.”
Arro sparked with embarrassment again. “I don’t know.”
Rangavar felt him nuzzle the back of his head, between the much smaller horns hidden behind Rangavar’s ears. He stretched his back and leaned into the larger dragon. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Arro paused. “I mean, well, I wasn’t already asleep or anything, obviously, like you, but I think I’m going to go to sleep now. Just, like you’re going to sleep now. Y’know, so then you’ll be back asleep, and I’ll be—”
“I know, Arro.” He always stammered when he was nervous. Rangavar wondered why he was nervous. He was glad he was facing away, so the other dragon’s enhanced vision couldn’t see him frown in the dark.
Arro was finally quiet for a moment. “Okay.”
Rangavar leaned into him and felt the fat dragon snuggle closer. Talking could wait until morning.
At work, Rangavar blearily rubbed his eyes on the back of his arm. He wasn’t used to being here in the morning. Kraz looked about the same, although so far, he’d mostly spent his time lamenting the way that his schedule was being disrupted. Something about exercise being best about two hours after waking, or whatever.
“So then wake up earlier.” Rangavar wasn’t as invested in the conversation as he could have been, which he knew was a bit unfair. He just wasn’t much of a morning person.
“Well, our bodies are also affected by a shifting sleep schedule,” Kraz replied, seemingly unaware of Rangavar’s disinterest.
Despite the lecture, it was actually a relief to be partnered the same shift as Kraz again. Even better, he still hadn’t run into that black-scaled Faerian. He wondered what would happen if he ended up with both of them on the same shift. Maybe it would be Kraz’s turn to knock the other dragon’s lights out.
The added bonus today was that without Zark here, Rangavar didn’t have to go downstairs, getting to avoid whatever new duties awaited him. He was still nervous about what those may be.
“…and eat shit for breakfast.”
“Huh?”
Kraz, watching him, grinned a bit. “I realized you stopped listening. I started saying weird shit a minute ago and you just keep nodding. I was kinda wondering how long it would take for you to notice.”
Rangavar felt his cheeks grow warm. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good.”
He sighed. “Just… distracted, is all.”
“Don’t like mornings, huh?”
“Not really,” he admitted.
Kraz waved a paw. “Maybe you just need something more interesting than hearing me talk.” He snorted. “You know, this job is pretty easy, just letting us wander around all day. Sometimes it would almost be NICE to catch someone out of line. Like, getting to bust someone for stealing, or something, to break up the monotony. Or at least stealing more than a pencil, which I’m sure there’s plenty of.”
“Let’s do that.”
“Do what?”
“Chase down pencil-thieves and detain them until they give up their loot,” Rangavar suggested.
“Yeah. I like that idea.”
Unfortunately, they didn’t catch anyone stealing pencils, and the morning slipped by uneventfully. Rangavar hastily wriggled out of his uniform at the end, folding it up, while Kraz pulled off his own and balled it up to shove in his locker.
“Hey Rangavar.”
“Yeah?”
“You should come to the gym with me.”
Rangavar rolled his eyes.
“Come onnnn, you ALWAYS say no, but I really wish we could…” Kraz paused awkwardly, causing Rangavar to look over and raise a brow. Kraz looked away, suddenly really interested in his locker door. “I mean, I just think maybe—not that we HAVE to, or anything—but we could hang out outside of work sometimes. We might not see each other as much anymore. Because of the shift changes. You know?”
Rangavar watched him curiously as he thought it over. There was nothing wrong with that. “There’s tons of things we could do other than going to the gym,” he pointed out.
The gray Faerian looked back over at him, pricking his ears like he was surprised to get a positive response at all. “I didn’t get to go this morning.” He leaned a paw against his locker. “I always have to go alone. Even my companion never wants to. It would be, well, fun to show you.”
Rangavar pressed his lips together. It would be fun for Kraz, is what the Faerian really meant. It wouldn’t be fun for the Darkal at all.
Still, he considered his afternoon; he wasn’t used to this schedule either, and he didn’t really feel like going on his ‘morning’ run after trudging around at work all day. And since Arro would be going in for the afternoon shift, they wouldn’t see each other to hangout, either. Realistically, what would he really be doing with the rest of his day? Unlike Arro, the idea of just watching TV or playing videogames for hours on end didn’t interest him. And he regretfully admitted that he wasn’t about to pick up a book anytime soon.
“Fiiiiine,” he rolled his eyes again.
Kraz immediately brightened. “Really?”
“Sure.” Whatever.
“That’s awesome.” Kraz reached out to put a friendly paw on his shoulder, oblivious when Rangavar wrinkled his snout and shied away. “Come on, let’s get going. We can take the transport to the same place.”
“What, right now?”
“What better time?”
Rangavar looked at him blankly. He supposed there wasn’t ever a ‘good’ time to go to the gym. “Alright.” He hesitantly followed the eager Faerian from the room, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into.
It wasn’t Rangavar’s first time at the gym; he’d come with Arro at least twice before. Mostly, Arro had spent the whole time teasing him, the Faerian’s type one gene giving him the ability to lift an incredible amount of weight compared to the more meager amount that Rangavar could manage.
Rangavar eyed Kraz’s muscular form. He’d said he was a type one, too. Rangavar assumed working out with him would be much the same. Hopefully without the teasing.
There were several tables set up on one side of the large room where dragons could take a break. They were empty right now, and he casually made his way over, already wracking his brain for excuses to sit ‘for a while’ and ‘watch’ Kraz do his thing.
“You can’t take a break if you haven’t done anything yet,” Kraz’s voice carried after him.
The Darkal paused guiltily and sort of shrugged.
Kraz shot him a knowing grin and beckoned him over. Rangavar came back over with a sigh. When he approached, the Faerian was already hefting a massive weight plate, although he didn’t do anything with it just yet. He stood there holding it as easily as if it weighed nothing at all. Rangavar was pretty sure it weighed more than he did, and he wasn’t just being hyperbolic.
“Here.” Kraz held it out to him when he came over.
Rangavar defensively held up his paws. “Whoa. No way.”
The larger dragon rolled his eyes again. “Start small, then work your way up.” He proffered the weight again.
“That isn’t ‘small’, it’s bigger than I am.”
“Doesn’t your magic give you extra strength? I thought this one would be easy.”
Rangavar looked at him in exasperation. “I think someone lied to you about how much magic actually goes into the stuff we do.”
Kraz frowned, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “So your magic could pick it up and chuck it across the room, but… your body can’t?” He said it like it was incredulous.
“Yeah.”
Kraz eyed him, only seeming more confused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Rangavar spread his arms. “Magic helps a lot, but it doesn’t completely take over for us. Like… our bodies are still just bodies.”
Unexpectedly, Kraz grinned a bit. “I know you’re just lying to get out of lifting weights.”
Rangavar shook his head. “I’m really not.” Sometimes, he thought it would actually be more convenient if Faerians actually could hear lies, so they’d also know when someone was telling the truth.
Kraz suddenly came at him with the weight again. “Here—” He tried to place it in Rangavar’s arms, but the Darkal backed up, starting to get annoyed. He’d have to stop coming to the gym with dragons way stronger than him. Or, well, stop coming to the gym in general. That sounded good. That was actually all he’d wanted.
“Kraz, I can’t—” He was cut off as the Faerian suddenly thrust it at him, essentially forcing him to take it. Which he instinctively did. And it leaned heavily on his chest, and he staggered backwards, and fell to the ground with the stupid thing on top of him. And so, for the second time this week, he ended up flat on his back under something heavy.
At least he hadn’t been hit in the head this time, he noticed, as the full brunt of the pain immediately descended on him instead of the hazy, disorienting shock that had settled over him the other day. So that was just great.
Suddenly Kraz was there, dragging the disk off of him, looking mortified. Rangavar almost groaned, but was having trouble catching his breath. Even though he couldn’t break bones, he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
“Vaugh, I’m so sorry.”
Rangavar tried to sit up, but only managed to move a little, his chest feeling sore. Kraz tried to help him. Another dragon was also lightly running their way from the other side of the workout room. Even though the research facility didn’t seem to have any Gemian employees at the lab, there were apparently a few on-call at the gym they owned, probably for injuries like this.
Rangavar gritted his teeth as his own magic started to burn, but the Gemian gently took both of his paws in her own, and a more soothing healing magic took its place. “Are you okay?” she asked, obviously a trained healer as Rangavar felt the strength behind her energy pulsing into him.
“I’ll be alright.” He grimaced. “I’m just having the unluckiest fucking week.”
Meanwhile, Arro believes that all is well, spending more and more time with one of his friends, and getting closer to him than ever.
Why am I uploading in the middle of they day? Hell if I know.
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This was one of the hardest chapters to write so far, it's sort of long, and very Plot™.
Hive Mind
Chapter 7
Shift was going well. Kraz thought he’d gotten away with putting a shipping label sticker on the middle of Rangavar’s back, but it took him an hour to notice that Rangavar had discreetly moved it onto Kraz’s instead. The buff Faerian couldn’t reach it from between his shoulder blades, having to pause and remove his jacket.
Rangavar leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed, the corner of his mouth quirked up as he watched the ordeal.
“Yeah, ha-ha, you got me.”
“Add this to your list of workouts.”
“Fuck you.”
It was nice to be back at work with an actual friend. Since Rangavar had that weird gap in shifts due to his injury, this was only his second shift since they’d all been mixed up, and he was glad he hadn’t seen the black dragon again.
He was startled when he was suddenly called into the office.
Rangavar went in anxiously, trying to think of something he may have done. The incident the other day came to mind, of course, although he couldn’t imagine getting into trouble for that. It hadn’t been his fault. Maybe it was just a follow-up?
Fortunately, the dragon within wasn’t in a bad mood or anything, so he got the feeling he wasn’t in trouble. She didn’t wait for Rangavar to sit. “I was actually just instructed to come meet you here. I’m to take you downstairs, since most of the dragons who work in these offices don’t even know there is a downstairs.” She gave a wry smile. “But I’m not the dragon you’ll be meeting with.”
Rangavar relaxed a little as he followed her. So, he didn’t need to talk to his supervisor or anything. That was good. But he wondered if he should be a bit anxious anyway; what could they possibly need him for downstairs? That was usually reserved for emergencies.
Such as when the wraith escaped the other day.
Still, he felt weirdly calm as he descended the stairs behind the green Faerian. Admittedly, after a week like this, he should probably be ready for anything. But how many bad things could be packed into a week?
They walked down the same long corridor where the confrontation with the wraith had happened, but this time passed the containment cell room, continuing onward until they came to a stop in front of a rather plain door that didn’t stand out from the others. What was different about it was the overwhelming aura behind it that Rangavar was becoming too familiar with.
The other dragon gestured at it. “Well, here you are. Good luck with your meeting.”
He wondered if she had any idea how much luck he actually needed.
When he tentatively pushed open the door, he was greeted by what appeared to be an office setup, although only one dragon was inside. Unlike last time, the female Darkal now had fangs that curled past her bottom lip. Her previously average white wings were massive, covered with blade-shaped feathers, the tips golden around the translucent, pleasant rose color in the center of each one that shone like stained glass. She was leaning to the side in a chair, one of her long, slender legs over the other.
She rose suddenly, taking several steps toward him, significantly taller than him as a Glitarian than she had been the other day in her regular Darkal state. He forced himself not to step back, keeping her gaze as she approached. He noticed himself fidgeting and lowered his claws. He always hated that she had that effect.
She noticed him drop his paws to his sides, and suddenly took one, inspecting it. His claws looked tiny next to her talons. “Your coworkers noticed you have black blood,” she said suddenly.
He never had any idea what weird shit she was about to say or do. It seemed to be sort of her thing. “Yeah.”
She eyed him thoughtfully. Analyzing him. “You were born in Edaca.”
He stood awkwardly as she apparently finished looking for whatever it was she’d been seeking on his paw and allowed it to fall back to his side. “So?” He didn’t know what to expect. The only thing he knew to expect from her was mind games.
She smiled at him then. There was nothing warm or friendly about it. “Thousands of years ago, if your coworkers found out you were Edacan, it would have been a death sentence.”
He didn’t know what she wanted to him to say to that. He just knew that her comment was meant to make him uneasy, and it worked.
She looked away slightly. “What do you think would happen if your coworkers knew what really happened to everyone on Glitara?”
Rangavar watched her blankly, unsure of what she was getting at.
After a moment, she rolled her eyes. “Every era has its targets. Edacans… Darkals…… Glitarians.” She dragged out the last pause especially long as she eyed him.
Slowly, he said back, “You… you think it would be a ‘death sentence’?”
She glanced back at him. “If they knew about the wraiths? And about… what being stranded there, all those years, did to the rest of us?” Her gaze was oddly sincere for a moment. “Without a doubt.”
Rangavar caught himself fidgeting again and forced his paws back to his sides.
She continued, “In order to help the wraiths, it’s imperative that we don’t draw attention to ourselves. In any way.” Her eyes narrowed. “Including from our non-Glitarian coworkers.”
Oh. That’s what she was getting at. Rangavar readily nodded. “I mean… I didn’t want to get hit in the face with a box.”
She dismissively waved a paw. “Whenever you’re supposed to have a shift with that Faerian, from now on I want you to start working down here instead. Where you really should be, anyway.” She grinned then, baring her long, curved fangs. “You were on Glitara with the rest of us, after all.”
He realized he was fidgeting again. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
She caught his expression as easily as she read his aura. Nothing got by her. “Don’t be intimidated. I assure you, you will find that your job down here will be very much the same.” She suddenly put what looked like an amicable paw on his shoulder, but clenching slightly too tight. She grinned again, although there was still nothing genuine behind it. “You’ll just have more access to the more… ‘Glitarian’ aspects of this facility. Consider it more like a promotion.”
“Why?” he suddenly asked. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable grip on his shoulder. It was distracting, but not the reason that he couldn’t figure out how to form a more coherent question. Why him? Why now? “There are dozens of Glitarians down here pledged to you. I’m just…”
“Nobody?” she supplied.
He couldn’t decide if he was supposed to be offended or not.
At his blank stare, she smiled darkly. “I have to admit, you intrigue me, Rangavar.”
He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to intrigue her.
“What happened with the wraith the other day was an accident, but it really just proved that we’ve all become too complacent,” she went on. “We can’t afford that with something this dangerous. We’re upping security down here. Taking things more seriously.”
Slowly, he nodded again. That made sense. Of course that made sense.
She studied him a long moment, her golden eyes unwavering. He forced himself not to react as he met her gaze. “And you agreed to help us. And the wraiths. It’s why you’re here. Why I allow you to be here,” she amended. “Instead of… well. Instead of your less, ‘favorable’ options.”
“I want to help you study them,” he quickly agreed. “I just… What does that have to do with being Glitarian?” He was still trying to appear unfazed by her hard grip, but felt his concentration waning, and only wanted a straight answer. He wondered if she was even capable of delivering one, or if that wouldn’t play into whatever agenda she was keeping.
Unaware, she went on, “I’ve pointed out multiple times that you’re Glitarian, and you keep… ignoring, that.” She finally let go of his shoulder. His scales felt bruised. She was really strong. “And the ‘normal’ dragons on the upper floor don’t have bodies that are… adequate, for the task of handling wraiths. They don’t have the same strength and speed.” She titled her head at him. “Even if they knew about the wraiths, they would be useless to us.”
He suddenly caught himself fidgeting again. Vaugh dammit.
“But that’s where we come in. Glitarians. Particularly Darkal Glitarians.” Despite the smug smile she spoke with, her eyes were still earnest. “We’re the only ones who can keep the wraiths under control down here while our researchers figure out how to make them dragons again.”
Rangavar nodded. It was part of why he’d agreed to stay at the research facility. He knew what she was getting at, though, and just wished it didn’t include dredging up the Glitarian abilities he’d tried to put behind him when he left that cursed world.
The Glitarian Darkal knew what he was thinking. Sometimes, he wondered if she did read his mind. It had been illegal for thousands of years, but she didn’t exactly seem like the law-abiding type. “You’re stuck with your powers. We all are. But we have the chance to make use of them here.” She gestured around vaguely. “We have the chance to help them.”
She was right. He knew she was right.
She stared down at him, still towering over him. It made him flatten his ears. “Yet, you’re resisting. Why?”
“I just…” He tried to think of a legitimate answer. There was one. “I’m just tired of my form changing,” he settled on. That was the word. Tired. “I like being an average Darkal. And what happened on Glitara was the first time a ‘change’ hasn’t been permanent. I have the option to be… normal.” He lowered his fidgeting paws to his sides. Again. “Or at least pretend.”
She watched him curiously. “And… isn’t that liberating?” Her dark grin returned. “You can choose when to be a Darkal, and when to be a Glitarian Darkal.”
He didn’t state the obvious, which was that he really didn’t get to choose, since she was forcing him into the latter role.
Her grin showed all her teeth. “You may be an outlier. But you are, at the end of the day, one of us. We’re all obligated to help the wraiths.” She went on. “Then, you’re free to go. I’ll admit I’m rather indifferent to the idea of you staying afterwards.”
Rangavar nodded. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. As it was, he hadn’t originally been doing this to help the research facility. He hadn’t started out doing this for the wraiths. He’d been doing this for Arro, when the Darkal standing before him kept using her powers to mess with the Faerian’s mind. She’d agreed to put an end to that if he joined her, and so far, she’d kept her word.
As soon as the wraiths were cured, though, he’d finally get to slip back into a normal life. He was looking forward to it.
“Until then, I will have you down here. Just whenever that dragon who attacked you the other day—Zark, or whatever his name is—has a shift with you.”
Slowly, he nodded again.
She wasn’t upset by his continued silence. She finally turned away from him. “Just don’t forget. Come down here when you see him again.”
He wouldn’t forget.
She dismissed him. “Now go.”
He did.
~Kraz stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, oblivious to Rangavar’s quiet demeanor. Rangavar sat by and absently watched the wind sway the trees outside the window. He hadn’t brought lunch. He never did. It wasn’t actually too unusual for the Darkal to be quiet, so he understood why the pale gray Faerian didn’t notice, blissfully oblivious.
“Why are you so quiet?”
Maybe not so oblivious.
Rangavar looked over at him, wondering what excuse he could possibly manage.
“Did you get in trouble? Was that the meeting?”
Oh. Of course he’d think that. It would make sense. “Not exactly.” Rangavar looked away and chewed absently on his lip, trying to think of an explanation that would sound sane. Something other than ‘The powerful shapeshifting Darkal that secretly runs this facility brought me down to the secret parts of the building to discuss secret things’.
Kraz frowned at him as he stood and threw his sandwich wrapper away. “Well?”
“It was about the other day.” He thought that was true enough.
“Ohh yeah. Someone threw a box at you? Everyone was talking about it,” Kraz nodded knowingly. He looked Rangavar up and down. “You look great though, for someone who had a box thrown at him.”
Rangavar allowed himself a small smile. “Thanks. Darkal healing magic and all that.”
“That’s so cool. I wish I could do magic.”
Rangavar snorted. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds. And physically, you could probably break someone in half, which is more than most dragons can do.” He gestured at Kraz’s physique. He could think whatever he wanted about Kraz and his obsessive work at the gym, but he had to admit it did get results.
They headed out of the break room, Kraz lagging behind as he closed the door behind them. “You could break someone in half with magic, and that’s cool,” he called after him. He caught back up a moment later. “Instead of using magic to heal, why didn’t you use it to stop the box?”
“I wasn’t expecting the box.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
They returned to work, remaining partnered for the day. It was odd to think that they might not be tomorrow, or maybe for several days after. They’d taken their shifts for granted, work at the facility seeming so systematically steady.
As usual, the day also ended pretty uneventfully. They stood outside waiting for the transport together. It wasn’t late, but the sun was setting. It always set early on Karraden.
“You’re still welcome to come to the gym with me,” said Kraz idly.
“Heh. I think I’ll pass.”
“Don’t you want to break someone in half without magic?”
Rangavar made a face at him, and Kraz grinned.
~Arro wasn’t home when Rangavar got back. That was fine. He was probably at the gym. Or, with one of his work friends, which he’d been doing a lot of lately. Rangavar tried not to think about it.
He actually had his own plans anyway. He took off at a jog down the street, easily enough since he went running every morning. Everyone was constantly encouraging him to go to the gym, but he didn’t see why he should bother. He was getting plenty of exercise.
As it was, it wasn’t long before he reached the side of the housing community where it trailed off into dense woods. There weren’t any actual paths into the woods—why would there be?—but there was a bit of a matted trail from Rangavar passing through here before, and he followed that, wondering if maybe it would someday become a path as he continued to walk it back and forth. Was that how paths were made? Hell if he knew.
He was familiar with this section of woods by now, the sounds, scents, and sight of his surroundings comforting, even as the sun finally descended beneath the horizon. Being a Darkal, his eyes adjusted easily, and when he finally stepped out into a small, clear area, the moon lit a section of bare stone that dropped off at a cliff.
Rangavar crouched, putting his forepaws upon the cool, smooth stone beneath him, thinking back on earlier today. The other Darkal—whose name she had still not given him—seemed to care an awful lot about him joining the other Glitarians guarding the labs. All that stuff about how they were necessary for controlling the wraiths. She wanted him to help. She wanted him to use his powers.
Little did she know that he already did.
He focused on the Glitarian magic buried deep in his aura, forcing it to the surface. He squeezed his eyes shut against the inevitable pain that came with it, and yet still let out an involuntary growl as his spine cracked and his hind paws elongated, placing them on his toes. His black claws curved into slightly longer talons like the other Glitarian’s today. He wobbled and lost his balance, his shoulders popping into slightly new positions. Unable to push against the ground to keep himself up, his arms gave out next. His frontside dropped to the cool stone, the claws on his forepaws digging into the weathered surface where he lay, although his fingers kept their dexterous shape.
He was then overcome by the pain of his body contorting, crying out again with a growl as his wings sprouted blade-like feathers. A feeling like thousands of tiny daggers piercing his flesh made their surface burn. He writhed, panting, his talons tearing at the stone as the feathers blossomed from the depths of his fur and moved into place. They took over his wings, replacing the dense, gray tufts of fur with long, sleek shafts. His were black as the night, rather than gold and glassy like a female.
Suddenly, he felt his fangs extend from his upper gums, eventually passing his bottom lip. That was always the end. He finally collapsed the rest of the way to the ground, his head lolling against the cool stone, his teeth gritted against the subsiding pain. He did nothing but lie weakly for a moment as the pain abated and he gathered his strength.
When he’d come to Karraden, he’d been so excited to put this behind him. He hadn’t anticipated meeting the Glitarian Darkal at the research facility. He hadn’t anticipated her ultimatum about his abilities. Nor her new little demands today, that he go be Glitarian downstairs or something. Fuck her.
It was a while before he was able to push himself slowly back to his hind feet, taller than before, his shoulders slightly broader, his wings larger. He could never hope to match her Glitarian height, but no male Darkal could. Even most Faerians, probably.
He staggered forward several steps on the balls of his feet, his toes farther from his ankles than usual and splayed slightly as he re-adjusted his balance to match their current form. He stopped on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the steep drop. There was actually a river distantly below, having carved its way through the ground over countless millennia until it left only oddly jutting rock towers, the water weaving its way around their bases. Several millennia more from now, even those would probably collapse. Just not yet.
He dragged his gaze away from the water to look at the nearest jutting pillar. He looked down at the water again. Then, at the pillar. He spread his broad, black wings. He jumped.
The wind rushed across his body, ruffling the new feathers as he used them to catch the air during his leap. No biped could fly—the idea was laughable—but the Darkals trapped on Glitara’s cursed surface had quickly adapted their transformed bodies to do something akin to gliding.
Rangavar struck the column of stone with all fours, scrabbling up to crouch on top and seek out the next nearest one. He wondered what exactly Arro thought he did for exercise. It seemed like common sense that he wasn’t developing his upper body strength from running, but the Faerian never asked.
Selecting a new target, he finally jumped again, his black wings an outstretched outline beneath the moon’s glow. He supposed if one thing the other Darkal said were true, it was the stuff she said about being unable to escape his Glitarian powers. He readily jumped from one stone tower to the next, four scaly limbs working, both wings working, moving his body across the narrow peaks.
He knew he couldn’t run away from them forever. He needed to embrace them.
~The hovercycles whirred pleasantly beneath the two Faerians as they sped down the streets beneath the same moon elsewhere on Karraden. The powerful hum of the glowing blue pad underneath that gave them their ability to levitate reached Arro’s ears, the same powerful force that allowed ships to fly; it easily carried his weight. Although it was true that the sides of his ass and thighs hung off the wide seat more than he would have liked.
Zark was ahead of him, his own cycle able to speed slightly faster with a narrower seat installed, also giving it a sleeker look. His black scales glinted beneath the streetlights they passed. At one point, he slowed slightly and cast a glance back at Arro, giving the pale-red Faerian a half-grin.
Arro shot back a determined grin of his own, leaning over the console at the front between the handlebars—at least as far as his bulging gut would allow—and tried to shift the hovercycle into a higher gear to keep up. It was a bit difficult, since the metal plate on the front was bent oddly, making some of the controls harder to adjust. Zark had done his best fixing it up from spare parts, of course, but it wasn’t perfect.
The one that the smaller black dragon was riding was the one that his unofficial client had abandoned, also a little wonky, but both cycles worked, which was what mattered.
The dragon ahead suddenly took a sharp corner. Arro followed behind, his vehicle rocking a bit far to the side as it strained to pull his formidable weight back on track. The same invisible force emitted by the glowing pad underneath dragged it upright as Arro continued to speed after him.
They didn’t pull up next to each other or bother talking until they were both back at Zark’s house. Arro glanced up at the night sky, a bit worried about how late it had gotten without his notice. He’d been busy having fun. He wondered what Rangavar thought he was doing. Probably that he was at the gym. It would make sense to the Darkal.
“You can have it, if you want.”
“Huh?”
Zark hopped off his own cycle and began to drag it around the back of the house by one of the handles, the vehicle bobbing slightly as he pulled. “I’m moving tomorrow, and don’t want to bother with it. The hell would I need three of these things for anyway?” He gestured at the other one on the ground as he rounded the corner. “I think I’m going to just abandon that one. Without getting the bottom to power up, it’s basically a hunk of garbage. Missing parts and all.”
Arro frowned. “What are you doing with this one, then?”
Zark casually crossed his arms. “Like I said, you can have it.”
“What, for free?” Arro scoffed. He knew he couldn’t afford the thing.
“Yeah.”
The larger Faerian paused. “What? Really?”
Zark shrugged. “I’d rather give it away than just scrap it. And, uh, the seat is too big for most people.” He grimaced. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
They stared at each other a moment. Arro cleared his throat. “So, you really—”
“Just take the damn cycle, Arro.” Zark’s brow was furrowed, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Consider it a gift.”
Arro pressed his index fingers together. “I can’t repay you,” he warned. He wasn’t even sure what would. “Just…” He didn’t even know what to say. “Thank you,” he managed.
The other dragon shrugged again. “Just glad to see it go somewhere worthwhile.”
Arro nodded, feeling a bit stunned.
“Did you want to get going? I know you have a companion to get back to.”
Right. Arro thought about that. If he headed home, he’d still get to spend time with Rangavar.
On the other paw, Zark was looking at him expectantly. Arro wondered if it would be rude to traipse off so suddenly after he’d been so generous. He glanced at his wristband. He could always just call Rangavar. Or, the Darkal could call him. He hesitantly glanced back up at Zark. “Well… do you maybe want to go grab food?”
~Rangavar was pleasantly tired when he slipped back into the house. He frowned and looked around when he noticed that Arro’s aura was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t possibly still be at the gym. Could he? It was technically real ‘evening’ now, despite the sun having gone down hours ago. Even the gym would be closing soon.
He trudged up the stairs and lay down in bed. It was okay. Maybe even for the best, since he was tired anyway.
Or, well, he thought he was. As he lay there, he couldn’t quiet his anxious thoughts about his meeting with his boss. And even deeper, at the very back of his mind, was his curiosity about what Arro might be up to.
~He startled as the door opened downstairs. He must have managed to doze off after all. Arro tried to be quiet as he climbed the stairs, his heavy footsteps not quite doing a good job, and Rangavar debated on whether he should pretend to be asleep or not.
The much larger dragon was careful as he climbed onto the bed, obviously trying not to wake him despite shaking the entire mattress with his weight. Finally, Rangavar moved over a little to give him more room, and could feel Arro grow embarrassed upon noticing he’d woken the smaller dragon. Rangavar obviously couldn’t see while facing away, but knew him well enough to assume he was probably blushing.
“Sorry,” Arro whispered.
Rangavar sighed. “It’s alright.”
The larger dragon squished up behind him, his heaving gut pressing into Rangavar’s back, threatening to either swallow him or push him off the bed. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if Arro ever rolled over on him in his sleep. He’d die, probably. And Arro, too, but with embarrassment.
The Faerian finally settled himself and reached a tentative arm around Rangavar’s waist. “I was out with a friend,” he whispered suddenly. Like he felt the need to explain. “I meant to call you. Or you could have called me, I guess.”
“Why are you whispering?” Rangavar said back softly. “We’re both awake.”
Arro sparked with embarrassment again. “I don’t know.”
Rangavar felt him nuzzle the back of his head, between the much smaller horns hidden behind Rangavar’s ears. He stretched his back and leaned into the larger dragon. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Arro paused. “I mean, well, I wasn’t already asleep or anything, obviously, like you, but I think I’m going to go to sleep now. Just, like you’re going to sleep now. Y’know, so then you’ll be back asleep, and I’ll be—”
“I know, Arro.” He always stammered when he was nervous. Rangavar wondered why he was nervous. He was glad he was facing away, so the other dragon’s enhanced vision couldn’t see him frown in the dark.
Arro was finally quiet for a moment. “Okay.”
Rangavar leaned into him and felt the fat dragon snuggle closer. Talking could wait until morning.
~At work, Rangavar blearily rubbed his eyes on the back of his arm. He wasn’t used to being here in the morning. Kraz looked about the same, although so far, he’d mostly spent his time lamenting the way that his schedule was being disrupted. Something about exercise being best about two hours after waking, or whatever.
“So then wake up earlier.” Rangavar wasn’t as invested in the conversation as he could have been, which he knew was a bit unfair. He just wasn’t much of a morning person.
“Well, our bodies are also affected by a shifting sleep schedule,” Kraz replied, seemingly unaware of Rangavar’s disinterest.
Despite the lecture, it was actually a relief to be partnered the same shift as Kraz again. Even better, he still hadn’t run into that black-scaled Faerian. He wondered what would happen if he ended up with both of them on the same shift. Maybe it would be Kraz’s turn to knock the other dragon’s lights out.
The added bonus today was that without Zark here, Rangavar didn’t have to go downstairs, getting to avoid whatever new duties awaited him. He was still nervous about what those may be.
“…and eat shit for breakfast.”
“Huh?”
Kraz, watching him, grinned a bit. “I realized you stopped listening. I started saying weird shit a minute ago and you just keep nodding. I was kinda wondering how long it would take for you to notice.”
Rangavar felt his cheeks grow warm. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good.”
He sighed. “Just… distracted, is all.”
“Don’t like mornings, huh?”
“Not really,” he admitted.
Kraz waved a paw. “Maybe you just need something more interesting than hearing me talk.” He snorted. “You know, this job is pretty easy, just letting us wander around all day. Sometimes it would almost be NICE to catch someone out of line. Like, getting to bust someone for stealing, or something, to break up the monotony. Or at least stealing more than a pencil, which I’m sure there’s plenty of.”
“Let’s do that.”
“Do what?”
“Chase down pencil-thieves and detain them until they give up their loot,” Rangavar suggested.
“Yeah. I like that idea.”
Unfortunately, they didn’t catch anyone stealing pencils, and the morning slipped by uneventfully. Rangavar hastily wriggled out of his uniform at the end, folding it up, while Kraz pulled off his own and balled it up to shove in his locker.
“Hey Rangavar.”
“Yeah?”
“You should come to the gym with me.”
Rangavar rolled his eyes.
“Come onnnn, you ALWAYS say no, but I really wish we could…” Kraz paused awkwardly, causing Rangavar to look over and raise a brow. Kraz looked away, suddenly really interested in his locker door. “I mean, I just think maybe—not that we HAVE to, or anything—but we could hang out outside of work sometimes. We might not see each other as much anymore. Because of the shift changes. You know?”
Rangavar watched him curiously as he thought it over. There was nothing wrong with that. “There’s tons of things we could do other than going to the gym,” he pointed out.
The gray Faerian looked back over at him, pricking his ears like he was surprised to get a positive response at all. “I didn’t get to go this morning.” He leaned a paw against his locker. “I always have to go alone. Even my companion never wants to. It would be, well, fun to show you.”
Rangavar pressed his lips together. It would be fun for Kraz, is what the Faerian really meant. It wouldn’t be fun for the Darkal at all.
Still, he considered his afternoon; he wasn’t used to this schedule either, and he didn’t really feel like going on his ‘morning’ run after trudging around at work all day. And since Arro would be going in for the afternoon shift, they wouldn’t see each other to hangout, either. Realistically, what would he really be doing with the rest of his day? Unlike Arro, the idea of just watching TV or playing videogames for hours on end didn’t interest him. And he regretfully admitted that he wasn’t about to pick up a book anytime soon.
“Fiiiiine,” he rolled his eyes again.
Kraz immediately brightened. “Really?”
“Sure.” Whatever.
“That’s awesome.” Kraz reached out to put a friendly paw on his shoulder, oblivious when Rangavar wrinkled his snout and shied away. “Come on, let’s get going. We can take the transport to the same place.”
“What, right now?”
“What better time?”
Rangavar looked at him blankly. He supposed there wasn’t ever a ‘good’ time to go to the gym. “Alright.” He hesitantly followed the eager Faerian from the room, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into.
~It wasn’t Rangavar’s first time at the gym; he’d come with Arro at least twice before. Mostly, Arro had spent the whole time teasing him, the Faerian’s type one gene giving him the ability to lift an incredible amount of weight compared to the more meager amount that Rangavar could manage.
Rangavar eyed Kraz’s muscular form. He’d said he was a type one, too. Rangavar assumed working out with him would be much the same. Hopefully without the teasing.
There were several tables set up on one side of the large room where dragons could take a break. They were empty right now, and he casually made his way over, already wracking his brain for excuses to sit ‘for a while’ and ‘watch’ Kraz do his thing.
“You can’t take a break if you haven’t done anything yet,” Kraz’s voice carried after him.
The Darkal paused guiltily and sort of shrugged.
Kraz shot him a knowing grin and beckoned him over. Rangavar came back over with a sigh. When he approached, the Faerian was already hefting a massive weight plate, although he didn’t do anything with it just yet. He stood there holding it as easily as if it weighed nothing at all. Rangavar was pretty sure it weighed more than he did, and he wasn’t just being hyperbolic.
“Here.” Kraz held it out to him when he came over.
Rangavar defensively held up his paws. “Whoa. No way.”
The larger dragon rolled his eyes again. “Start small, then work your way up.” He proffered the weight again.
“That isn’t ‘small’, it’s bigger than I am.”
“Doesn’t your magic give you extra strength? I thought this one would be easy.”
Rangavar looked at him in exasperation. “I think someone lied to you about how much magic actually goes into the stuff we do.”
Kraz frowned, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “So your magic could pick it up and chuck it across the room, but… your body can’t?” He said it like it was incredulous.
“Yeah.”
Kraz eyed him, only seeming more confused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Rangavar spread his arms. “Magic helps a lot, but it doesn’t completely take over for us. Like… our bodies are still just bodies.”
Unexpectedly, Kraz grinned a bit. “I know you’re just lying to get out of lifting weights.”
Rangavar shook his head. “I’m really not.” Sometimes, he thought it would actually be more convenient if Faerians actually could hear lies, so they’d also know when someone was telling the truth.
Kraz suddenly came at him with the weight again. “Here—” He tried to place it in Rangavar’s arms, but the Darkal backed up, starting to get annoyed. He’d have to stop coming to the gym with dragons way stronger than him. Or, well, stop coming to the gym in general. That sounded good. That was actually all he’d wanted.
“Kraz, I can’t—” He was cut off as the Faerian suddenly thrust it at him, essentially forcing him to take it. Which he instinctively did. And it leaned heavily on his chest, and he staggered backwards, and fell to the ground with the stupid thing on top of him. And so, for the second time this week, he ended up flat on his back under something heavy.
At least he hadn’t been hit in the head this time, he noticed, as the full brunt of the pain immediately descended on him instead of the hazy, disorienting shock that had settled over him the other day. So that was just great.
Suddenly Kraz was there, dragging the disk off of him, looking mortified. Rangavar almost groaned, but was having trouble catching his breath. Even though he couldn’t break bones, he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
“Vaugh, I’m so sorry.”
Rangavar tried to sit up, but only managed to move a little, his chest feeling sore. Kraz tried to help him. Another dragon was also lightly running their way from the other side of the workout room. Even though the research facility didn’t seem to have any Gemian employees at the lab, there were apparently a few on-call at the gym they owned, probably for injuries like this.
Rangavar gritted his teeth as his own magic started to burn, but the Gemian gently took both of his paws in her own, and a more soothing healing magic took its place. “Are you okay?” she asked, obviously a trained healer as Rangavar felt the strength behind her energy pulsing into him.
“I’ll be alright.” He grimaced. “I’m just having the unluckiest fucking week.”
Category Story / Transformation
Species Western Dragon
Size 118 x 120px
File Size 62 kB
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