Doing an older one today!
Characters: Manfred
Warnings: brief mentions of murder, questionable parent-child relationship
This one's a bit messy but still! Dragon backstory go brr
"We really have to do something about his obsession," Manfred's father was grumbling. "He's getting too many ideas."
"I know," his mother replied with a sigh. "It's just- how do we do it? He's getting to be old enough to go off and watch those races on his own, buy his own merchandise, all that. If we're not careful he'll go and try and sign up and just end up disappointed."
"It's not even the disappointment I'm worried about, really. I just don't want my son getting involved in such an... unreliable profession. I mean, you can't just be a racer forever; it's only a matter of time until those fools can't fly anymore for one reason or another, and I will not allow my son to push his body too far in some foolish attempt to fly like a spiral or skydancer or whatever other breed. If he hurts himself he can't run with the pack anymore, won't be able to survive, you know, and I'd sooner starve than willingly let him end up like that." He was pacing now, whiplike tail lashing back and forth, and Manfred resisted the urge to dart into the room and argue.
"It's that spiral, I think," his mother mused. "He managed to get his claws on that poster of her last time, remember?"
His father didn't answer his mother's question, but Manfred remembered. He'd brought some treasure with him in his satchel and used it to buy a poster depicting a spiral dragon who went by Tuberose, who'd quickly become one of the most successful racers of all time despite her relatively young age. Manfred had never seen a dragon fly so fast.
"The spiral," Manfred's father was saying. "What's her face- uh, Tuberose. I think you're right. That's the one he's idolizing, isn't it? Maybe if we deal with her Manfred won't be so interested anymore."
Deal with her? What was that supposed to mean? Manfred shuddered in spite of himself.
"We do have Schwieger," his mother said, and Manfred's fears were all but confirmed. Schwieger Werft-Danzig was a high-ranking member of the pack and a close friend of Manfred's parents. Prior to joining the pack she'd been an assassin based near the Wyrmwound; apparently she'd often been hired to hunt down potentially dangerous escapees from the Plaguebringer's prisons, with an incredibly high success rate. Was his mother really suggesting they send Schwieger to kill Tuberose?
Manfred's father seemed equally surprised. "Schwieger?" he repeated, pausing in his tracks. "Are you suggesting we send her after that spiral?"
"I am," his mother replied. "If that dragon's fast enough, she can escape. If not, well, that just means she's not strong enough to survive."
"Don't you dare," Manfred blurted out, finally bounding around the corner and into his parents' sitting room. Both of them whipped their heads around to stare at him, wide-eyed.
"What do you mean, honey?" his mother asked. Her voice sounded almost too sweet. Manfred narrowed his eyes.
"You said you'd send Schwieger to kill Tuberose," he replied. "Why? What is wrong with you?!"
"I never said that, liebchen," his mother replied. "Schwieger can do more than killing, you know. I was thinking she could train you as an understudy and you can do that instead of racing."
"That's not what you-"
"Manfred, honey, you really would make an excellent assassin, you know. Why be a racer when you could do that? You'd be serving the Plaguebringer that way-"
"But I don't want to be an assassin," Manfred argued. "I want to fly, mother! I don't want to be a killer!"
"Mirrors don't fly," his father said sternly. "And racing isn't the kind of career that really meshes with our lifestyle, you know. You're not built for flying; your body will just break down and you won't be fit to survive. I don't want that for you, son, you understand?"
"No! No, I don't understand! I can learn to fly properly! I can figure it out!"
"But your body isn't meant to fly like that, Manfred! You'll hurt yourself, and I will not allow my oldest son to do so willingly. Am I understood?"
"I just said I don't understand! Why-"
"We just don't want you to be disappointed, honey," his mother said, wrapping a wing around her son's shoulders. "Even if you do learn to fly, you're not meant for it. You'll never be able to fly like that spiral can. What's the point of racing if you don't have a chance of winning?"
"It- the point is that it's fun," Manfred protested, tears pricking at his main pair of eyes. "It's not about winning, it's just about flying!"
"They probably won't even let you enter, liebchen. They'll turn you away and say you can't fly well enough. I don't want you to have to go through that kind of thing."
"Why? It's not like that would be any different from what you're doing."
His parents fell silent, shocked at his retort. The tension mounted for a moment, and then his mother narrowed her eyes. "Go to your room," she said finally. "We can discuss this some other time, once we've all calmed down. Okay?"
Manfred glared at his parents with all the defiance he could muster. "Only if you promise not to kill Tuberose," he replied. "And don't send anyone after her, either."
"Alright," his mother said. "We won't do anything to her, okay?"
"Promise?"
"I swear to the Plaguebringer, your father and I will not send Schwieger or any other dragon to attack or kill Tuberose," she replied, voice serious and firm. "You have my word."
Manfred held her gaze for a moment and then nodded once. "Okay," he said finally. "I still want to be a racer, though."
"We'll talk about that later. For now, go to your room."
"Yes, mother." Manfred nodded again and slipped out of the room. At the very least, he supposed, his parents wouldn't kill his idol; after all, his mother never went back on her word. But they still didn't approve of his dreams, and... why did he still feel so uneasy?
Characters: Manfred
Warnings: brief mentions of murder, questionable parent-child relationship
This one's a bit messy but still! Dragon backstory go brr
April 24 2021 wrote:
They step forward, face set into a snarl, frantic energy frothing under their skin.
"Don't you dare."
"Don't you dare."
"We really have to do something about his obsession," Manfred's father was grumbling. "He's getting too many ideas."
"I know," his mother replied with a sigh. "It's just- how do we do it? He's getting to be old enough to go off and watch those races on his own, buy his own merchandise, all that. If we're not careful he'll go and try and sign up and just end up disappointed."
"It's not even the disappointment I'm worried about, really. I just don't want my son getting involved in such an... unreliable profession. I mean, you can't just be a racer forever; it's only a matter of time until those fools can't fly anymore for one reason or another, and I will not allow my son to push his body too far in some foolish attempt to fly like a spiral or skydancer or whatever other breed. If he hurts himself he can't run with the pack anymore, won't be able to survive, you know, and I'd sooner starve than willingly let him end up like that." He was pacing now, whiplike tail lashing back and forth, and Manfred resisted the urge to dart into the room and argue.
"It's that spiral, I think," his mother mused. "He managed to get his claws on that poster of her last time, remember?"
His father didn't answer his mother's question, but Manfred remembered. He'd brought some treasure with him in his satchel and used it to buy a poster depicting a spiral dragon who went by Tuberose, who'd quickly become one of the most successful racers of all time despite her relatively young age. Manfred had never seen a dragon fly so fast.
"The spiral," Manfred's father was saying. "What's her face- uh, Tuberose. I think you're right. That's the one he's idolizing, isn't it? Maybe if we deal with her Manfred won't be so interested anymore."
Deal with her? What was that supposed to mean? Manfred shuddered in spite of himself.
"We do have Schwieger," his mother said, and Manfred's fears were all but confirmed. Schwieger Werft-Danzig was a high-ranking member of the pack and a close friend of Manfred's parents. Prior to joining the pack she'd been an assassin based near the Wyrmwound; apparently she'd often been hired to hunt down potentially dangerous escapees from the Plaguebringer's prisons, with an incredibly high success rate. Was his mother really suggesting they send Schwieger to kill Tuberose?
Manfred's father seemed equally surprised. "Schwieger?" he repeated, pausing in his tracks. "Are you suggesting we send her after that spiral?"
"I am," his mother replied. "If that dragon's fast enough, she can escape. If not, well, that just means she's not strong enough to survive."
"Don't you dare," Manfred blurted out, finally bounding around the corner and into his parents' sitting room. Both of them whipped their heads around to stare at him, wide-eyed.
"What do you mean, honey?" his mother asked. Her voice sounded almost too sweet. Manfred narrowed his eyes.
"You said you'd send Schwieger to kill Tuberose," he replied. "Why? What is wrong with you?!"
"I never said that, liebchen," his mother replied. "Schwieger can do more than killing, you know. I was thinking she could train you as an understudy and you can do that instead of racing."
"That's not what you-"
"Manfred, honey, you really would make an excellent assassin, you know. Why be a racer when you could do that? You'd be serving the Plaguebringer that way-"
"But I don't want to be an assassin," Manfred argued. "I want to fly, mother! I don't want to be a killer!"
"Mirrors don't fly," his father said sternly. "And racing isn't the kind of career that really meshes with our lifestyle, you know. You're not built for flying; your body will just break down and you won't be fit to survive. I don't want that for you, son, you understand?"
"No! No, I don't understand! I can learn to fly properly! I can figure it out!"
"But your body isn't meant to fly like that, Manfred! You'll hurt yourself, and I will not allow my oldest son to do so willingly. Am I understood?"
"I just said I don't understand! Why-"
"We just don't want you to be disappointed, honey," his mother said, wrapping a wing around her son's shoulders. "Even if you do learn to fly, you're not meant for it. You'll never be able to fly like that spiral can. What's the point of racing if you don't have a chance of winning?"
"It- the point is that it's fun," Manfred protested, tears pricking at his main pair of eyes. "It's not about winning, it's just about flying!"
"They probably won't even let you enter, liebchen. They'll turn you away and say you can't fly well enough. I don't want you to have to go through that kind of thing."
"Why? It's not like that would be any different from what you're doing."
His parents fell silent, shocked at his retort. The tension mounted for a moment, and then his mother narrowed her eyes. "Go to your room," she said finally. "We can discuss this some other time, once we've all calmed down. Okay?"
Manfred glared at his parents with all the defiance he could muster. "Only if you promise not to kill Tuberose," he replied. "And don't send anyone after her, either."
"Alright," his mother said. "We won't do anything to her, okay?"
"Promise?"
"I swear to the Plaguebringer, your father and I will not send Schwieger or any other dragon to attack or kill Tuberose," she replied, voice serious and firm. "You have my word."
Manfred held her gaze for a moment and then nodded once. "Okay," he said finally. "I still want to be a racer, though."
"We'll talk about that later. For now, go to your room."
"Yes, mother." Manfred nodded again and slipped out of the room. At the very least, he supposed, his parents wouldn't kill his idol; after all, his mother never went back on her word. But they still didn't approve of his dreams, and... why did he still feel so uneasy?
