DeadSea

DeadSea used to be a hunter, battling for the sheer thrill of it, but hurt his leg while fighting, so now he works as an amourer, trying to inspire a new generation of fighters

@CharCOL (ahh I had so much fun writing this, I hope you enjoy it!) `````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
There’s a small strip of shoreline that borders the Water Flight and Plague Flight. The sands are a deep black, mixed with red grains that glint off the harsh reflections of the water. This was the place DeadSea first saw the curious Imperial. He sat alone on the shoreline, seemingly listening to a song that only he was privy to. His deep blues were striking against the shoreline, body scared and almost completely covered, a style DeadSea understood too well. When DeadSea dared to walk forward, brittle bones snapping, the cyan hands on his wings stilled, as the Imperial’s ears tilted back, listening intently.

“I can hear you from here,” the Imperial murmured, motioning to stand.

“Sorry if I disturbed you-”

“It’s fine, I was just leaving anyway,” the Imperial stretched, about to walk back into the water.

“Wait, can I at least get your name?” DeadSea asked, trying to get closer to him.

The Imperial laughs, a deep rumbling sound that reminded DeadSea of the waves, “Ah asking for my name when you haven’t given it yourself, DeadSea?”

“How do you-”

“It doesn’t matter, we won’t see each other again.”

And then he dove back into the sea, swimming back to his clan.

Despite the Imperial being so sure that they’d never meet again, DeadSea saw him perched on the same shore weeks later, the breeze ruffling his mane as he listened to that imperceivable song.

“You’re not the most silent dragon, are you DeadSea?”

“And I thought we’d never see each other again.”

“Perhaps fate was kind to you.”

The Guardian laughed dryly in response, stepping off the rotten ground of Plague, “No, not anymore at least, not since my leg was injured and this kelp started to grow on me.”

“You do favor your rear legs quite a bit from the sound of it.”

“Is it that obvious?” DeadSea questioned, shuffling his kilt to cover the scars further.

“To the few who listen it is, but to most I’m sure it’s unnoticed,” the Imperial hummed, finally looking towards the Guardian at his side.

His eyes were most likely once a deep blue, but now they were pale, filmed in thick white scar tissue, covering any sight they once had. Now that DeadSea could finally see him up close, he noticed the other various injuries that littered his form, even the fresh bandages that covered his skull and antlers. Yet there was a strange beauty to it that DeadSea couldn’t help but feel drawn to.

“I’m sure yours still hurt too then,” DeadSea murmured, turning away to look out into the sea.

“Some days more than others.”

“Did you know this was once a battleground long ago?” DeadSea picked up the pawful of sand, inspecting it with his claws.

The Imperial froze again, that same way he had those weeks ago, an eerie silence that even caused the withering of those hands to stop, if for just a moment, “I’ve heard whispers of that, yes.”

“The shoreline was different then, instead of a steep drop off, it was filled with kelp beds,” DeadSea found himself saying. “My clan at the time was involved in a territorial feud and we fought here one night , scorching the sands, eroding away these banks. We were overwhelmed, soldiers crawled from the deep in never ending waves, I watched as everyone fell around me.”

The Imperial swallowed thickly, panic seizing his form, blood pounding in his ears.

DeadSea hummed, glancing to the Imperial, “One enemy soldier ripped my throat open, stuffing it full of the kelp that is still in my body today. It’s a miracle I was able to limp away.”

“S-Stop talking,” the Imperial hissed, feathers ruffling, “You do not understand the pain that is still held in those plants.”

“They’re overwhelming, I know,” the Guardian regarded his companion, “You must hear them too. You come here to listen to them, why?”

“So I don’t forget them, just like everyone forgot mine,” the Imperial gritted out.

“And I come here for the same,” DeadSea pulls out a small letter, a silver weight attached to it, throwing it into the waves, “I visit them, their final resting place, the kelp seems to quiet when I come here, perhaps re-living and reflecting on it all much like we do.”

“I don’t know how you talk of it so casually,” The Imperial spoke, tone low, as if afraid of his own voice.

DeadSea sighed, taking his eyes away from the sea to see him clenching his claws, cyan hands twitching in a frantic manner, brow furrowed without sight. “I guess talking about it is the only way I’ve come to grasp it, understand it, accept it. I can’t pretend like I can everyday, some days I stow away in my den, unable to stand the sound of the metal grating during all the sparring of my clan. Though talking helps sometimes, like now.”

The Imperial took a deep breath, “I can’t, not today.”

DeadSea nodded, “I understand that, I would never ask you to.”

The Imperial felt a strange relief go through him, this dragon beside him was one of few who didn’t pry, most had given up years ago anyways, but he remembered the frustrations of so many had when he wouldn’t tell, couldn’t say. But this dragon, he was different, carried the remnants in the whispers of the kelp beds, much like the hands that clawed at his own wings.

“I must go, my clan would be worried if I stayed gone for too long.”

DeadSea nodded, watching as the sun was moving towards the horizon at a languid pace, “Very well, I wish you a safe travel.”

The Imperial rose from the sands, shaking off before walking into the surf, until he suddenly stopped.

“It’s Deimos, in case you were still curious.”

DeadSea beamed, Deimos could even hear it in his voice, “Deimos, it’s a pleasure to know you.”

“As to you.”

DeadSea watched as Deimos sank into the depths below, his heart racing like it did when he was young.

DeadSea would be lying if he didn’t visit the shore often, in the hope to catch a glimpse of Deimos, but after a few months of silence, he figured the Imperial had grown weary of constantly coming to the surface.

What if he’s dead?, the kelps murmured as he stood on the bank, the sun had set long ago, Like us.

“No, of course he hasn’t, he was strong the last I saw him,” DeadSea shook his head.

The lifespans of Imperials are fickle at best, and he has seen many of them.

DeadSea growled, refusing to entertain the thought. Deimos wouldn’t have suddenly passed, he was healthy (as much as a veteran could be), he couldn’t be gone like…them. He could feel his thoughts start to spiral, his hind leg aching, throat feeling raw. The stars danced in the ripples of the water, the tides eerily calm tonight, much like-

“I didn’t expect to see you here so late,” Deimos said, bubbling to the surface, padding onto the bank, “Oddly quiet for once as a matter of fact.” His ears perked at the rapid sound of DeadSea’s breathing, moving to lean in closer, careful not to crowd him in any way.

“DeadSea, are you with me?”

The kelps clouded DeadSea’s mind, frantically whispering soft mutanties, his leg collapsed from his current shaking, and he fell to the ground. Deimos couldn’t see it, but the sheer mental anguish was clear from the kelp’s constant chatter.

“DeadSea,” Deimos spoke calmly, “DeadSea, come back to me. You’re safe here.”

DeadSea latched onto the last part, snapping his vision up to the Imperial, flinching back to reality, “O-Oh, it’s you, Deimos, when did you arrive?”

“Mm not long ago, are you alright, my friend?”

The Guardian shook his head softly, “No, but I’m glad to see you’re safe.”

The Imperial hummed, a small smile on his lips, “Do you wish to talk tonight?”

“Not particularly, no.”

Deimos expected this, taking a deep breath, “I wish to talk about my battle, if that’s okay with you.”

DeadSea froze, eyes searching Deimos’s face, “You don’t have to talk just because I did last time, you don’t owe me your story-”

“No, I’m ready to, though we can just sit here if you’d like.”

DeadSea regarded him for a moment, the comforting pale eyes staring back at him, and he rumbled in agreement, settling down more comfortable beside the Imperial.

“It was a surprise, no initial feud that would’ve cued us into the attack, but the deep-sea creatures came at our city with a vengeance. My squadron was able to hold them off, defeating every single one, and in the chaos, I watched as my comrades fell around me. I scrambled to help my friends, reaching out to one as she clutched at a gaping wound in her side. But I was too slow, one of the monsters dragging me down with it, perhaps as revenge for all we’d killed. I couldn’t breath at those depths, the pressure crushing my lungs as I clawed at the rocks.” He shuddered, remembering the terror of it all, “I was finally able to tear myself loose, killing my attacker, but not before they swiped me across the eyes and tumbled below to their own demise. I can still remember the quiet after, it was so-”

“-deafening.” DeadSea finished, “So silent after so much noise, not a single breath left gurgling but yours…”

“Yes,” Deimos remarked solemnly, “just like that.”

DeadSea felt the hands on Deimos’s wings ghost over to his kelp, seemingly having its own conversation with the other fallen soldiers, “I guess we both still carry them with us, for better or worse.”

The Imperial hummed, his claws idly tracing patterns into the sand, “Though it’s not all tragedy I suppose, I have many fond memories of them.”

DeadSea laughed, “Ah back in my heyday, we did so many foolish things together. I remember this one time when we-”

The two veterans exchanged stories well into the night, their laughs and comfortable silences drowning out the sea, the stars shining against their scales. And perhaps fate was kind, it just took many years to realize that it could be.