Hurt

Dragons with faceted eyes have two major outcomes with their vision. One is that they are completely blind, and the other is that they see too much.

Hard, vicious, mean, still energetic, snaps first asks questions never. The type to laugh before watching you fall off a cliff. She's angry at the world for her eyes.

(this isn't done but its good enough)

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Morphe sat next to his sister, sharing a bowl of shellbugs. She knew where the bowl was now, and boredly dropped them into her mouth, snapping her teeth around them as they fell. He ate more responsibly, slowly bringing them to his mouth and chewing. He was half sure she would choke.

Sirene, his other sister, was out working with the clan, doing what she could to make them feel a part of it. The hole they sheltered in had been dug by Ridgebacks some time ago, and it was somewhere Luminax did not often tread. Probably because it was well-traversed by strong dragons keeping him in check.

The scales on her face had small, moving things. The tiny creatures, capable of life unlike dust, hovered around Plague dragons specifically. They tended to avoid Light dragons, freeze around Ice, and squiggle in anguish around Fire. Hurt never seemed to notice them, though she had told him before about her special way of seeing. Using her magic, she compiled little building blocks, she called them, materials like when crafting. Then she sent the completed structure out and formed a connection to it. She could follow it, and feel if it landed on something living or something not living. The not living was important, because if it was dead it still had life, but not living things had much less life. She had problems getting around in forests, because everything was so alive there, and had no troubles in dragon-made structures.

She would walk forwards until she ran into something.

One time, Morphe asked why she did that, and she said it was because she hated the pain. She said that if her body had time to feel pain, why didn't it have time to fix her eyes so she could properly see, instead of having to stumble around getting hurt. She did have a cane, to help her distinguish things, and Sirene helped her whenever she really wanted to move around, or he did. But he knew she despised their help, and would rather feel the pain she hated.

Her bandaged claws brushed his knuckles. He quickly backed off, and looked in dismay at the blood and bug parts on his hands. The scabs around her face looked partially healed. He still remembered waking up to Sirene screaming and Hurt yelling.

It wasn't late, and it wasn't early. He remembered passing out the day before, and being too overwhelmed to face another day. He had gotten used to the room, finally. The rock, beautiful in moments, hadn't moved and his head no longer swam, and Sirenes scream pierced it all again. How long had he been ignoring them? Hurt sat on the floor in a heap, and Sirene held Hurts arms away from her face, pinning her back legs with her tail.

Black blood stained Hurt's face, scratches pouring life onto the floor, her nails tinged and covered in her own skin and scales. Sirenes anxious expression and desperate tone.“Morphe! Help me!”

He held Hurts arms as she struggled to move and added weight to her body as she thrashed.

“Hurt, stop! Calm down! You need to be calm!”

“Let me go! Let me get rid of them! They're useless! Let me take out my eyes!” She threw her head back savagely, and hit it hard. Her struggles ceased momentarily, though the tips of her claws lay dangerously beneath her sightless gemstone eyes.

“Stop it!” Sirene shook Hurt. “Death reject us, Morphe, get help, anyone!”

He nodded and flew out. His eyes worked in his favor now. Thoughts churned as everything he saw filtered through his brain while he searched for another dragon. He twisted in the air, searching for anyone else at the outpost, but most of the clan had moved to the underground shelter or left for the next outpost. There- someone. He called, and the dragon answered. He rushed through an explanation, and they nodded and left him. Dizziness took him over and he couldn't see straight. The dirt was so many colors. Living things rooted inside it, moving, all working towards survival, the bright day and sun streaming everywhere, death and birth constantly, other dragons, animals, beasts, the details, the details, the details-

“Why did you help her stop me? If this was the Boneyard, they would have let me. Now I have to wear these stupid bandages because she thinks they can stop me.”

“What?” Hurts sudden question brought him out of his stupor.

“Why did you stop me? I don't need these.” She tapped along her snout.

“We've never really been in the Boneyard. We left as soon as we hatched, remember? Our parents deserted us.”

She scoffed. “You don't know what would have happened. We could've made it.”

“I don't know Hurt... I think if we had stayed...” He paused.

“I would have been killed?”

His snout tickled with the promise of tears.

“Don't cry, you big baby.” She flopped onto him, spilling the shellbugs. “We're still here, aren't we?”

---

“Sirene! Its your sister again.” Sirene dropped her task and looked at the dragon in front of her for directions. They looked a certain way, and she flew off, twisting through the air.

Her sister, Hurt. She had picked her own name, back when they were hatchlings, and now she was the resident troublemaker. Things were okay back when they were kids. Morphe was manageable, and Hurt helped more. She had always been the best at calming Morphe down whenever he needed it. They were his younger sisters, and they needed to take care of him. So why wouldn't she do that with her?

All she could peg it on was the strange behaviors her sister displayed growing up. They had been born in Plague, so naturally dead things and disease intrigued them all, although Sirene preferred the lands of Light. Or anywhere else, really.

As she got closer to her sister, the stink of Plague magic reached her. She moved faster towards the source of the smell. Dust and dirt melted into oozing blood and yellowed spikes and she had to be wary of catching her tail on something sharp.

A Gaoler lay on the floor, surrounded by white bone spikes. Sirene's sharp eyes picked out her sister, and she yelled, “Stop!”

She flew to the Gaolers nose. It was Druid, someone she knew had strong opinions and a dislike of her sister. He still breathed. “What did he do Hurt? Did he really deserve to get knocked out?”

Hurt sat on the floor and sulked.

“Come on, Hurt.” She went to her sisters side, and gently touched her shoulder.

“Don't talk to me like that!” She shrugged away. “We're not kids! I don't need you.”

Sirene huffed, “Well, what am I gonna say to the rest of the clan?”

“You don't have to say anything. I don't need you to explain for me. I can still talk.”

“You don't get it. "I was mad" or "He started it" isn't enough anymore, Hurt. They need to have a reason. You're gonna get kicked out of the clan like this.” She didn't understand anything. She just wanted everything to go her way, like a spoiled hatchling. “I work hard so we can stay here. You doing this just pulls all of my effort down. Do you really want to make my efforts worthless? You want us to get separated, kicked out?” Sirenes tail curls around Hurts.

Hurts laugh cut the air as she said, “Yes! That's exactly what I want. We can go back to Plague. Everything is better there. Nobody cares if someone else dies or about the 'what really happened'. All that matters there is whether you survive, or perish.” Her eyes glistened in the light as she talked, the planes of her eyes individually catching it.

Sirene just couldn't handle this today. “Fine! You know what, you can explain to everyone what happened here. You can clean up this mess with the Light mages, and you can apologize to Druid!” She stepped towards her. “I'm so done with you acting this way. You're so selfish, you never do anything for the rest of us anymore! So this time, you can handle all of it.”

Hurt shrieks in rage and fling herself at Sirene. “I'm not selfish! You're the one who doesn't care about me! Its all about Morphe or the clan or anything else!”

Sirene avoids her bandaged claws and flips her sister to the side. She snarls and buries her fangs in her shoulder, biting hard out of anger. Hurt screams and her eyes roll as magic coalesces to pierce her sisters side. Sirene lets go, and-

The one voice both of them would hear through the undercurrent of their fight speaks. “Stop it, please.”

Morphe trembles, from voice to legs, as he stops his sisters fight. The two break away, untangling their bodies swiftly as they rush to him.

“Its okay, don't panic, its okay,” Sirene said, her teeth gritted with pain.

Hurt sat on his other side, running magic through him to help calm him down.

“Why do you two do this?” he whispered.

“I don't know why. I don't.. I don't know.” Sirene admitted.

“Please.. don't do it again,” he cried.

No-one responded to him. No-one could promise a different future than the one they already knew. And no-one would, because of me.

---

Once upon a time, there lived a little dragoness in the Abiding Boneyard. She was young to be wandering from her nest-mates, but she smiled so nicely to all the older dragons around that no-one thought it strange. A few afforded her pitying looks as they went about their business. Those glittering faceted eyes... her sight would be lost or gained, during her growth from hatchling to child.

Her snout lifted to test the air. The scents of filth, sickness, and rot lay over the smells of clan life. A big, toothy grin held her face, as she scrabbled with purpose up the red sand of a hill. Her claws tore into the sinewy branches as she propelled herself further up. She mounted the hill, nose scratched and hands bleeding. She opened her mouth wide, and scents flooded in.

There she discovered she was not alone. Little friends lived in the very air, and wanted very much to help her. They wrapped her in a hug and told her all about the things they found. There was not-alive all around her, but a big thing teemed with life below her. The friends wanted her to come see. They nudged and guided her further up the hill, and it got harder and harder. It felt like she was climbing out of her shell again. Her friends kept pushing and pushing, but she reached the last step, and would be there so soon. Right above it, they clamored. One more step. The dragoness stretched out her hand, groping for the next root, as if the drop she teetered on was merely stairs. But a gust of wind bowled her over, and she tumbled till her tail caught around a branch tight. Her friends were so wretched and upset, and instantly demanded she get up and come see, come see. The dragoness wasn't interested in them anymore, for gusts of wind swept over her face and pressed her down. A harsh voice spoke to her.

“So that's where you've got to, little rascal. Barely out of the nest and you're already trying to drop yourself off a cliff. I can tell you're going to be a troublemaker, even if you were the last egg. Now let go of that branch, or I'll just break it and carry you off anyways. Good, good, you've a mind on you at least. You're getting dumped back with your siblings and you're all gonna go to House. You won't be able to charge much of a boon, I believe, and you'll most likely end up serving a deity, but its a good life for any dragon, and is worth the honor. Never forget that. Alright, here you are. Wind yourselves around, its a little flight there. Good, good...”

Her memory fades from this point. Hurt has never told Morphe or Sirene about this memory, nor will she ever.

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