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Dark jerked as he heard his name mentioned, twisting his head to stare sightlessly toward Makyna.
Heard? What did I hear?
He was scared. He didn't know what was happening--nobody had told him anything, and he only knew about the yelling and the screams. And what was this about the fighting? They were fighting over someone else? ...Maybe he could ask questions and get all of this cleared up, and give them their answers, too. Fear still quaked through him, but a childlike hopefulness as well.
He spread wings and soared soundlessly down, stumbling and almost rolling over the rock as he landed blindly, then picking himself up and settling his wings without even looking for the speaking-stone. There was little point in that.
"Scared," he began bluntly, with a frightened, plaintive voice. He opened his beak, about to spew out a nonsensical stream of words describing everything all at once--then closed it, again, blinking and thinking. No, he had to make sense. To be coherent. He took a deep breath, centering himself, and began again.
"Is this... a good time for--trial?" he chirped softly, and uneasily, slowly turning his head to stare without seeing at all the shuffling, breathing sounds present.
"There is--big thing, breathing thing, hateful thing, coming out to chase, I think. It roared. It made heat." He meant the dragon, not Leon, but he didn't know that.
"Trial is maybe dangerous now, if thing comes for us. The fear shivered in his voice, audible, and he briefly, worriedly eyed the cave tunnel before turning vaguely toward Makyna. He had another question burning in him, and he'd ask it, before he answered hers.
"Fighting is stupid. They were fighting over you? Why didn't you tell them to stop?" he asked bluntly. That was the crux of it, to him--why hadn't Makyna just
told them who she wanted to be with? He was too young to understand the details, or such things as reluctance, resentment, competition. To him, it was plain--nobody should fight over someone else. If she had told them which she preferred, they would never have fought to begin with. Then he shook his feathered head. He was getting well off-topic, and anyway, he'd asked his questions, now. He thought that the trial was at a bad time what with a dragon maybe chasing them--and he thought the whole fight should have been avoided. But he'd been asked a question, and he'd answer.
"There was fighting. I was scared. I hid. I heard fire. Roars. Jumping, and things. I hid my head. I couldn't hear, for awhile. And then when I could it was," and he lowered his voice in an imitation of Cancer that would have been hilariously bad, if it wasn't so macabre--
"Ever since that first day, you hated me; ever since we met, I knew you'd hurt me."
He was paraphrasing as best he could from memory, but as he spoke his mind touched on the thoughts, and on his magic, and he slowly turned to Bevy, the gem-eyes glowing faintly. The words--the true words that Cancer had spoken, and in his voice--were imparted to her mind directly from Dark's own memory, like faint whispers. He'd meant to send it to Makyna, but what he sent her way would only be bits and pieces--so that both Bevy and Makyna would hear, but only snippets. Enough, perhaps, to show Cancer's tone, and to prove that Dark was being fully truthful.
"You can't hurt me anymore--no more. If you get out, you had better treat her like a Goddess, because she is one."
Then, Dark paused, fluffing himself down and glancing nervously toward the tunnel door again--expecting the raging dragon-creature to pursue them in any minute--before turning wide eyes back to Bevy.
"Rest in pieces, shit bear," he said, very quietly and very clearly.
He paused, and then added,
"And then there was roaring, and everything fell apart." His voice at this last was even softer than before--barely a whisper--and he ducked out, shuffling backwards with bowed head.
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