The Acquainted (Part II)

The creature was completely enraptured with its instincts. Pupils enlarged and slitted, it roved over the four walls taking in its territory for the first time. The defiant, raucous snarls were replaced with a mewling sound that sounded from its chest. It spoke in its native language as it clicked its tongue against the roof of its mouth. Cyan strained to hear what it said but couldn't really pick up on any words he knew. It seemed the creature wasn't disturbed by the idea of being held in a strange room shrouded in darkness.

Cyan didn't even try to make sense of this peculiar change in behavior. Being human, he surmised there were some things he just couldn't understand. This being one them. Considering the creature had only known cages, it responded differently in a bigger environment. Something similar to pity burned the back of Cyan's throat. Swallowing that feeling, a war of relief replaces it as he is no longer being actively killed. He leans his hand against the wall suppressing a shudder of emotion that is now awakened by the washing away of his fight or flight reactions. Cyan can barely catch his breath as he spits out another glob of blood. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes but he hasn't cried since the day he lost his hearing; he doesn't intend to start crying now. The dragon's gas snaps to his and Cyan instantly lowers his head again so he doesn't come off too bold.

It walks around scratching at the walls to the left of him; its curiosity leading it around the room as he continued to claw and rub his scent around like a dog marking its territory. He is slightly off-put by this new behavior. It makes him realize how little they know about dragons for no one has really gotten close enough to divulge the mannerisms of these great beasts. So far, his pamphlet only mentioned dragons being territorial- not the behavior they display to mark their territory.

Cyan begins to slowly crab shuffle backwards in order to get closer to the where the remote laid neared the staircase. The dragon remained completely distracted as it made its way to the far corner. It now stood proud looking down at its handiwork. If Cyan wasn't so scared, he would have laughed as he watched the dragon stand on its hind legs and wobble a bit as it pressed its forepaws to the top of the ceiling where it met the wall. Cyan jumped as the dragon dragged its claws down- its nails screeched against the concrete like chalk against a chalkboard.

The marks left behind on the wall were streaked with a bluish, silver residue. Cyan let out a breath thinking back to how the marks emitted an unusual type of power that made him feel...something. For a moment, he felt his heart beat faster, and the blood in his veins course through him with newfound vigor. He shook with anticipation. Swallowing hard, Cyan sat up abruptly. He closed his eyes feeling a bit dizzy by the suddenness of his actions.

The dragon was set on marking all the walls.

His instincts seemed satisfied to feel good. Satisfying the urge of Claiming it has "his" gave him an odd sense of joy. The rational part of his mind faded away as he forgot about the brunette soldier that was staring at him. Aiden moved counterclockwise working all four corners of the room until it was completed. His scent and marks were everywhere leaving no hint of others anywhere in his space.

Cyan had eyed the dragon wearily as it spoke to itself with the abode of confidence as it rested near its crate.

Its energy was finally drained.

Aiden collapsed onto the floor- a heap of scales and wasted fury. Drunk off his own emotions, his exhaustion demanded his surrender which he gladly gave into. His tawdry body was lulled by the darkness. The pain under his skin demanded blissful release from its agony which he no longer wanted to deny. His eyes slitted slightly as he thought back to the little soldier staring at him from across the room. However, Aiden could not bring himself to care. The human's thoughts passed through his mind in flashes revealing nothing new: the same trepidation and restless calmness were a steady stream into his psyche.

He huffed out a waft of icy mist before curling in on himself. His mind drifted off thinking of mild summers and harsh winters. He thought of snow crunching beneath his feet. Claws dining into the ground, he braced his body for flight. His wings flared up; they switched when they caught the right wind before snapping out and pushing him off the ground. With tired eyes, sleep came with fever as he dreamt of flying again for the first time in years.

Cyan had been awestruck.

The beast had draped itself on top of the crate like that of an overgrown lizard onto a rock. A yawn rippled from the back of its throat as its body twitched suddenly before shifting into snoring. The dragon's scales shifted automatically into a vibrant blue that remained him of the lollies they sold at the spring fair. Cyan observed the creature with disappointing amusement as it tucked its tail under its muzzle and curled in on itself like an oversized, scaly dog. Cyan was eerily aware that just moments ago this beast was stealing him to death. Rubbing his sore throat, he took small breaths holding in the cough that threatened to choke him.

With the creature settled, Cyan could see what it was had brought upon him. The very monster that had haunted his youth. The very thing that had gotten his mother killed. Up close, Cyan felt a shiver crawl down his spine as he spat up blood. How was he expected to work with so thin like this!

The blasted thing was huge!

Never had he felt so small in his life. Even amongst his peers, Cyan wasn't much. He was 172 centimeters tall. He din weight much either-even if he was a bit more stockier and muscular than others. Still, next to a dragon, he couldn't compare.

Dragons were formidable creatures: beasts of war. He should have known they would be big, but not this bloody big!

Slowly edging his way to the stairs, his hand bumps into the Controller. He clutches it tightly. The room isn't well lit, but his eyes are drawn to the sleeping beast upon its mound. A majestic scene if not for the trail of blood leading back to him and the wheezing sounds the dragon makes when it breathes. Cyan nearly bursts out laughing at this thought.

It dawned on him what he signed up for. Fear threatens to kill him as he shakes. Another wot of blood spills from his mouth as his fingers graze the first wooden step. Slowly, he rises to his feet. Looking at it from afar, his eyes catch the curve of the creature's back- the dark spines accenting the ridge of its spine. It was about the size of a small automobile, a buggy perhaps, and Cyan frowned at the way its skin sagged around its belly. The ribs protruded making a distinct imprint against rubbery skin. It occurred to him that the dragon was portlier than its counterpart the Eastern dragon. It had a similar serpentine shape to it-long and agile- like the Chinese dragons, yet it was more muscular. Even with malnourishment and deprivation, the dragon's muscles were well defined. Its tendons are quivered with strength and durability. The dragon's four legs bulged with power; a quality he hadn't seen on the other dragons at the Kennel. His dragon seemed different. Large five-fingered toes scraped against the metal of the crate making him cringe. Those large Human-like appendages resembled hands. They had to be the size of a tire. Those same hands that had wrapped around his neck had the power to crush bone so easily. Lastly, there was that ghastly tail with the small spikes leading to the tip. Horns- like daggers, dark blue and glinting in the low lighting- rested upon its head like a crown protruding from its forehead as small pig-like ears flicked in its sleep fully aware of any sound made.

It seemed too ethereal.

Then he saw the collar wrapped around its neck. The alien device ruining this mosaic creature. The faith glow of technology humming against its skin. A fain flash of something dancing from the collar caught his eye. Cyan didn't try to investigate what it was. He had seen enough excitement for tonight due to his curiosity. His intrigue had left him sorely aware of his mortality as he rubbed the bruised skin forming around his throat.

For a creature built for war, at the moment it resembled a sleeping puppy with more fangs and sharper claws.

The young soldier smacked a hand to his forehead concerned by that last thought. Was he going mad as well? Had one car ride and a near-death experience robbed him of his sanity?

Here he was with a sleeping dragon- an actual killing machine in his basement.

Yes, he must be insane!

That could only be the logical answer because no one would have allowed the dragon to even breathe after the night he had experienced. Clutching the controller tighter in his fist, anger flared in his chest. He was truly stupid to give this creature the benefit of the doubt. No matter how pitiful it acted, he had to remember what it was.

A predator pretending to be a prey: almost like a wolf pretending to be a deer.

Cyan had given it the benefit of the doubt thinking he could change it without first understanding its nature. Maybe they what had gotten his mother killed: she tried to humanize something that wasn't human.

You can dress a wolf up as a deer, doesn't mean it is still not a wolf.

His mother had been neglectful of the circumstances. Her dragon hadn't been fit for duty or any association. Though it was a gift from his father, knowing his stepmother, that dragon had to have some psychological trauma deeming it unworthy of house duties at such a young age. His mother dutifully ignored the signs. Cyan was resentful- a part of him wanted revenge on his stepmother, his father, his brother, and even dragons. He even blamed his mother at times for her compassion. Why did she have to be a hero? Why couldn't she have hidden with him?

Cyan shook his head slowly.

Right now, he couldn't afford to ignore the fact that this dragon was a bit mad. If the madness persisted, the creature would lose any sign of intellect and control. Eventually, it wouldn't be able to change into its humanoid figure and be stuck permanently as a dragon. Before he could even fix the psychological, he had to deal with the physical ramifications. The dragon was sick. There was no physical cure to madness. Therapy might help, but Cyan knew there were no resources available for that. If dragons were deemed too unstable, they were given a black tier mark and sent to chopping blocks.

The brochure he was given didn't touch on how to 'fix' a broken dragon. Not that he thought it would.

Because it was extremely evident that despite the creature's prowess and strength, it was ill. That could be seen in how its skin sag between its ribs resembling ridges against a rocky shore. Cyan knew that if he stepped closer he could fit his entire hand between the space. The dragon's scale shifted in its fitful sleep changing to striking electric blues and whites with pain; a steady stream of misty breath was pumped from its mouth as it panted. Then there was that horn on the left side of its head. A slow drip of black, oily fluid oozed from the wound covering the top of its head in a slick, greasy substance resembling tar. Cyan had admired its horn from afar finding them rather striking when he wasn't on the receiving end of them. He didn't think the horn was badly damaged, just infected.

Cyan pinched the bridge of his nose wondering if it would easier to shoot himself in the head now and save himself the time. Besides almost dying without even touching the battlefield, he knew the real war was inside his own home. Cyan had always loved animals. His father had owned three guard dogs who he affectionately bonded with. His mother had said he would always make a great veterinarian. He had tried once to keep a rabbit in his room, but Sky had found it during the night when he was asleep and proceeded to drown it in the tub.

Cyan had only been twelve at the time.

Sky had hung its dead carcass over his bed so when he woke up that was the first thing he saw that morning.

Since then Cyan hadn't dared to keep any more animals afraid his brother would cross their threshold. When he had told his father what Sky had done over breakfast and showed him the remains, Sky's mother had gasped smearing at him as if he had committed the murder. His father had been so angry he had beat him until he was blue with welts. Sky had watched the whole thing with a smile as his mother cooed over him. Cyan clutched his fist leaning against the railing a little too much as it groaned under his weight. Growing stock still, he looked to find the dragon didn't even flinch. He sighed in relief.

A part of him was honestly terrified. Not of getting hurt, but that the dragon would die under his care. The dragon already has a bad impression of him. What if he accidentally killed it or it refused to do what he needed it to do? What if it killed someone else? What if it didn't eat out of spite or something that and Cyan would only be left to watch it slowly kill itself. Cyan ran a heavy hand through his hair grabbing a handful of it trying to stop the stream of endless thoughts that taunted him. It was no good because he could feel his breath hitch. His mind supplied him with anxieties that he nearly screamed. Biting his fist, Cyan rationalized that panicking right now would only leave him in a worse place. It wasn't the time…yet. He felt it would be good to do so though.

When people panicked, it slowed their response time and often got them killed in battle. Even the slightest of hesitation could lead to death. Cyan was not one to lose control of his emotions so they often didn't overwhelm him even if he blushed like a maiden when he was flustered and was horrible at communicating his thoughts. He was a lot better at controlling his anger than Sky who often got the switch for mouthing off until he reach of age to fight his own fights.

Cyan felt his like lashing out. In a grotesque bout of emotion, he bawled his fists and he suddenly feels this crushing anger sting his senses. He feels like punching something or making it bleed. This quick flash of unadulterated strife steals the rest of his energy and leaves him empty. It just so happens the dragon's ears flick anxiously in its sleep. Cyan still automatically. His mind replaces his trepidation with calm submission. The dragon opens its mouth flashing him with rows of spark teeth before closing it (yawning?).

The dragon settled, rolling onto its side as the muscles in its shoulders and back relaxed. He watched the tension dissipate. Cyan nearly laughed feeling somewhat relieved.

It was no secret that dragons use hypnosis to speak to humans. It was during his training with the Army that he had learned about it which was still a taboo topic. It wasn't known why some humans were more perceptive of the electrical brainwaves dragons gave off, but people feared dragons may be able to read their minds. This unknown link to dragons and their true nature of why certain humans could hear it and others couldn't had caused mass chaos when dragons first appeared. Since then, the king had forbidden dragons from using hypnosis- Cyan isn't sure how the man has done it, but dragons weren't prohibited from messing with human minds.

Cyan felt something pull at the back of his mind. He had been told by several physicians while in the medical bay he was more susceptible to hypnosis. Cyan didn't realize just how scary this curse was until he had felt the tendrils of someone else poking at his brain. The doctors had informed him dragons wouldn't be able to easily hypnotize him, but that's only if he wore a specialty bracelet. Cyan often stared at his bare wrists especially in the markets when he was shopping and a few unfiltered thoughts were flashed his way. It was never anything "dangerous" about it but he couldn't be sure. Hypnosis wasn't a well-known subject and dragons were a fairly new discovery (especially regarding their powers).

It occurred to him that he was still leaning against the staircase watching the slumbering beast. It might be a good idea to retreat, come back with better ammunition, and possibly calmer nerves. Cyan believed he earned himself something a bit stronger than a cup of black coffee to get himself going again. The Controller was slipped deep into his pocket leaving an indent where its weight pressed against his leg. He was hesitant to use it again and recoiled at the thought of it becoming a regular tool in his possession. The image of the creature's eyes looking down at him with unfiltered hatred would haunt his dreams to come. Cyan felt a bit at ease having the controller close.

Though the sentiment was surface level at best, he was still dealing with a wild animal. So he would treat it as such. It was the excuse he needed to be properly prepared. Cyan hated to admit it but if he granted it mercy, next time he might very well die. It was better for both of them if he avoided serious injury less the dragon is left to the devices of the authorities. He did not doubt in his mind that a black tier dragon wouldn't be sold as parts within the first hour of capture. Cyan's gaze stayed trained in the dragon as he slowly began to step up. The creature didn't even stir as it grew lost in its feverish dreams, tail twitching like a cat in deep sleep. His mind supplied him with a brief moment of what a dragon might dream about.

'Probably flying,' He thought wryly.

Slowly, he crept his way up the stairs glancing back every second to make sure the dragon didn't move. Cyan dug out the key that was tied around his neck when reached the top stair. Fumbling to see, he struggled to put the key into the lock. Turning back to look one last time, the creature remained curled at the center of the room. Like this, it looked smaller and a lot less menacing. Whimpering softly in pain, Cyan could almost feel its discomfort from where he stood. By the way his body ached, he couldn't imagine how much pain the dragon was in. The click of the door unlocking startles him as he opened it softly. Tucking the key back under his shirt, the cold metal rubbed against his skin making him wince. Closing the door, the sound of the click calms his frayed nerves as he locked it back. With the emptiness of a man who lost everything, he learned the door and put his head into his hands letting out a stifled sob.