"We cross paths every now and again but they can prove extremely elusive," Francis answers, hoping to nip that in the bud.
"Dragons can take a human form so it is nearly impossible to know when you're with one. And they are so endangered even if they wanted to tell you they might feel they couldn't. It's quite sad.. but they have a terrible relationship with humans so it's understandable."
"Seems to be the prevailing trait of humanity. Which is such a shame. Having known them I feel I say say that it doesn't help that dragons are foolish and terrible intrigued by them."
Humans, he means.
"They loved them, in fact. but it was never reciprocal. You never hear a story of the two races living side by side. Which they did mind you. Men can't seem to fathom the idea that they are not masters of the universe. Friendship became enslavement and then the dragons would inevitably be slain. Doomed by their broken hearts."
"That's a shame," he says, because it truly is. He's always imagined them to be such beautiful, magnificent creatures.
"It's always men." He is a man himself, but it always seems to be straight men - or men hidden so far in the closet they're lost. "Why is it always men."
"An age old question," Francis has often asked himself. Why. Why is it always powerful men. Or men wanting power. Or men with power wanting more power. Why is greed so prevalent. Why must one animal always master another.
"Oh.. it was ridiculous really," Francis says and finishes his tea before nestling back and opening his arm for Ethan to come and snuggle.
"It was.. hm, 1305 perhaps. I was in England working as a scholar in a lovely little chapel on the Scottish border. Which was dangerous at the time because they were fighting for independence from the English. A beautiful people.. William Wallace was a legend of a man. Troops assembled as the fighting got worse and worse. I met a company of soldiers who had taken up base in the village. I was very fond of the captain.."
There's a wistfulness as he recalls the romance.
"We fell very madly in love. And we knew it wouldn't go on forever. He would eventually go home to his wife in Sussex ice the war was over. But it never got that far. He was very badly injured in battle and when I saved his life I was accused of dark sorcery. Which.. I suppose they were correct in a manner of speaking. I had used magic and my knowledge of botany but it was not dark. Pope Clement V had recently confirmed Ralph Baldock as Bishop of London. He was a Catholic and anything.. natural was seen as mysticism by the church."
He goes right in, curling against him and pressing close. This is wild. You aren't like him, but you're...ancient.. Maybe some kind of demon. Who knows.
Who cares.
"Wow," he says, a little incredulous, because...jesus. Hearing someone talk about history who'd actually been there...
He thought he was going to die. It had been a genuinely terrifying experience.
"Mm.. it was all a little blurry at the time. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't teleport. I could barely move. I remember thinking ah.. this is finally it. What a pathetic way to die. But once the fire crept into my body I begged whatever works magic I still possessed to spare my life. And the heat of the flames burnt the poison from my blood."
"I burst from the pyre.. and killed every last one of them."
One by one. Cedric last. Then he destroyed the soldier's camp and razed the entire village. Not one of his finer moments but they had all come to see him killed. So it felt fair.
"Then I fled over the border to fight with the Scots. I should have left the country.. or dimension, but I was angry. I wanted revenge on the English."
Well. Revenge he'd already got. More than was necessary. He was angry and he wanted to kill humans.
Ethan isn’t a vengeful person, isn’t a killer. If you break his heart, he’s more likely to send you a thank you card for the learning experience than he is to try to get revenge. But something in him boils at the story, has his hackles raised.
Ethan you are so soft and pure. He'll give you armour. Hard as diamond. He will protect you.
"My heart was still aching. I collected my books and left for France. It was no more peaceful but I was sick of the English and wanted some quiet. I've it a lovely little cottage surrounded by lavender. It's still there. I'll take you sometime if you like."
He needs it. He’s probably far, far too kind to be what he is. He was a mistake, it’s painfully obvious.
“That sounds really beautiful. I’ve never been to France. Never really been overseas... they’ve got some amazing conventions, though. Shame they’re all during the day.”
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He laughs.
“You seem like you’d be crafty. You really know a dragon?”
He looks like he wants to ask if he can meet it. Like, fuck yeah. Cool.
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"Dragons can take a human form so it is nearly impossible to know when you're with one. And they are so endangered even if they wanted to tell you they might feel they couldn't. It's quite sad.. but they have a terrible relationship with humans so it's understandable."
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He sounds disappointed.
"Makes sense, though. Humans kind of suck, and I say that as one. Or...formerly, anyway."
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"Seems to be the prevailing trait of humanity. Which is such a shame. Having known them I feel I say say that it doesn't help that dragons are foolish and terrible intrigued by them."
Humans, he means.
"They loved them, in fact. but it was never reciprocal. You never hear a story of the two races living side by side. Which they did mind you. Men can't seem to fathom the idea that they are not masters of the universe. Friendship became enslavement and then the dragons would inevitably be slain. Doomed by their broken hearts."
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"It's always men." He is a man himself, but it always seems to be straight men - or men hidden so far in the closet they're lost. "Why is it always men."
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"Destroyers. Executioners. Extinctionists."
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Maybe that's generalizing, but...you know.
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"That's certainly been my experience. I've had my fair share of fantastic...experiences. Things are so wonderfully liberal again these days."
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"Liberal again?" He chuckles, stretching out contentedly. "What kind of 'experiences'?"
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He looks started.
"You were burned at the stake?!"
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"God. What the hell happened?"
Tell him a stoooory.
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"It was.. hm, 1305 perhaps. I was in England working as a scholar in a lovely little chapel on the Scottish border. Which was dangerous at the time because they were fighting for independence from the English. A beautiful people.. William Wallace was a legend of a man. Troops assembled as the fighting got worse and worse. I met a company of soldiers who had taken up base in the village. I was very fond of the captain.."
There's a wistfulness as he recalls the romance.
"We fell very madly in love. And we knew it wouldn't go on forever. He would eventually go home to his wife in Sussex ice the war was over. But it never got that far. He was very badly injured in battle and when I saved his life I was accused of dark sorcery. Which.. I suppose they were correct in a manner of speaking. I had used magic and my knowledge of botany but it was not dark. Pope Clement V had recently confirmed Ralph Baldock as Bishop of London. He was a Catholic and anything.. natural was seen as mysticism by the church."
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Who cares.
"Wow," he says, a little incredulous, because...jesus. Hearing someone talk about history who'd actually been there...
It's something else.
"And they caught you and tried to burn you...?"
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"It was awful. I felt.. very powerless. Normally it would be nothing but Cedric had poisoned me. Ungrateful traitor that he was."
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Jesus, that’s fucking horrible.
“How did you get away?”
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"Mm.. it was all a little blurry at the time. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't teleport. I could barely move. I remember thinking ah.. this is finally it. What a pathetic way to die. But once the fire crept into my body I begged whatever works magic I still possessed to spare my life. And the heat of the flames burnt the poison from my blood."
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“I hope you killed him after all,” he says, face twisted in an angry frown. “What the hell. How’d you get away once the poison was gone?”
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One by one. Cedric last. Then he destroyed the soldier's camp and razed the entire village. Not one of his finer moments but they had all come to see him killed. So it felt fair.
"Then I fled over the border to fight with the Scots. I should have left the country.. or dimension, but I was angry. I wanted revenge on the English."
Well. Revenge he'd already got. More than was necessary. He was angry and he wanted to kill humans.
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“Good.”
Ethan isn’t a vengeful person, isn’t a killer. If you break his heart, he’s more likely to send you a thank you card for the learning experience than he is to try to get revenge. But something in him boils at the story, has his hackles raised.
“What did you do when the war was over?”
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"My heart was still aching. I collected my books and left for France. It was no more peaceful but I was sick of the English and wanted some quiet. I've it a lovely little cottage surrounded by lavender. It's still there. I'll take you sometime if you like."
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He needs it. He’s probably far, far too kind to be what he is. He was a mistake, it’s painfully obvious.
“That sounds really beautiful. I’ve never been to France. Never really been overseas... they’ve got some amazing conventions, though. Shame they’re all during the day.”
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He cards his fingers through Ethan's hair.
"We could go."
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“I’ll fit right in in Paris, I bet.”
He hasn’t been out much in daylight, though. Marcus ran a tight ship.
“You think I’d be okay? I don’t want to burst into flames.”
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