"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He is restless, tearing branches from trees and gathering dried grasses to build his nest. It never occurred to him that he would be a father come spring. Instincts had simply driven him to his lover’s arms and the consummation was merely an afterthought. Ghaul breathes a plume of fire to weaken another tree branch before gripping it between his teeth and jerking backward with a flap of his great wings. It gives with a crack like bones breaking. His mind replays Clarissa telling him they needed to ready the Cove for their brood and how she’d smiled up at him. Somehow, her face was always easiest to see.
Carefully, he gathers his materials and spreads his wings. With a burst of movements, he lifts into the air and above the treeline. Ghaul prefers to gather in the cold night while everyone else slumbers. They tend to distract him when he would much rather dwell in his solitude. From up here, he can see the outlines of a few figures down below, but none of them are peculiar enough to distract him from these instincts. His course remains set for Pangea where he can land safely without trying to duck between any obstacles. A slow sigh eases from his lungs as he enjoys the crisp night air across his scales.
It doesn’t take long for the grasses to give way to his homeland of red clay canyons and withered corals. He grins and tucks his wings as he begins a smooth descent into the eastern kingdom. Ghaul reaches forward with his hind talons and comes to an easy stop, balancing briefly before he can drop the branches and plant his forelegs on the ground. Their hoard of nesting materials lies along the border between here and the Cove, the safest spot they could decide on. He gives a brief croon and his ears swivel forward to listen for Clarissa’s reply.
As he strains to listen, however, he picks up hoofbeats approaching nearby. His head tilts and he turns to find the source of the noise until he spots the outline of his brother. An easy grin contorts his face and he repeats his croon, though this time the pitch is a little lower. He meets Draco halfway and offers a light bump of his nose against his sibling’s dark cheek.
“Draco. I missed you while I was away for so long,” he confesses in a gentle purr. “It upsets me to have missed seeing your child as well. Is she perfect?”
He shifts his weight uneasily. He had wanted so badly to see his niece or nephew but their war games had prevented such celebrations. For this, he will enslave more Nerinians once his brood had hatched. The thought brings him some small comfort.
04-20-2020, 01:53 AM (This post was last modified: 04-20-2020, 01:54 AM by litotes.)
Lie had been shortsighted, as he so often is. While not apt to care for teenage boys following his descent from the throne, he could have visited when his senses finally returned. Instead, a year passed, and the boys grew older and older.
Five now, actually—an age Draco is well aware of.
He does eventually decide to go to Pangea. The most biting part of the decision is how quick it was: Lie, freshly washed from a dip in a creek, decides he is feeling refreshed enough to face both the boys rumored to remain in their birthplace. In an instant, his shadows set him gently upon the dusty Pangean earth. He stands, peers down at the red and gold flecks as they settle on his pale fur. Hmpf, he sighs, suddenly remembering the pale red tint he carried as King of Pangea.
Such a trivial thing to think, before such a monumental reunion.
Lie gulps.
“Ghaul!” Draco calls in a spasm of excitement. He grins, trotting good-naturedly to meet his brother. It has been a while since the pair have gotten quality time together. Between Ghaul’s imprisonment in Nerine and then his taking of the Cove, he’s kept considerably busier than Draco. Sometimes the demon resents those responsibilities, but he forgets such loose anger when in Ghaul’s presence.
“She is perfect, Ghaul,” Draco gushes, incapable of keeping his stuttering heart out of his voice. “I’ve never been happier,” he says, and as the words tumble out like a waterfall, Draco fully realizes that. “Dove and I tell her stories about Uncle Ghaul and Aunt Clarissa all the time. You must see her,” Draco adds, lifting his head up as Midsommar and Dove might be within earshot.
And that’s when Draco spots him. Stepping hesitantly out of a shadow. Anxious face creased.
“Dad?”
Litotes snaps his head around at the startled, near-angry exclamation. Draco and Ghaul stand close together, both of them alert and staring.
“Draco? Ghaul?” he replies, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Because nothing he can say will put out the fire roiling in the boy’s eyes. Because sometimes, in moments like these, he hates himself so much it’s easier to make them hate him, too.
“Oh my god,” Lie finally exclaims, rushing to meet them.
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
Ghaul knows much of this world but only precious little about the significances of life. Still, he has counted the days since Litotes left and he had to watch his silhouette slip into the horizon. There are still many nights where he stands at the border of Pangea and searches every warm outline for that familiar shape. Draco knows, and sometimes they stand together in silence pretending they aren’t so lonely that it aches down to the soft core of them. But it’s easy to breathe around that immense emptiness during times like these.
There is a delighted crooning in his throat when he explains that his child is, in fact, flawless. There could be no other outcome for a family as pristine as theirs. He opens his jaws to reply but he is interrupted by the way Draco’s face contorts itself with rage and confusion, maybe framed in relief. The hellbeast turns to follow his brother’s gaze and he feels his heart plummet into the depths of his stomach. It writhes down there, bathing in all that pent up hurt he’d hoarded for himself to bask in. Every ounce of it comes flooding back up.
“Father,” he whispers so softly it almost doesn’t reach past his tattered lips.
He swallows the lump in his throat and hurries to meet him, his massive wings stretching wide and then wrapping feverishly around both Litotes and Draco both. His mane smells like strange places and familiar people when Ghaul buries his face into his shoulder. A desperate kind of whining creaks from his throat as he traces Lie’s face to confirm it is just as he remembered it. It’s strange how the former king used to seem so monumental, so god-like to him when he was a child. Of course, the lion of Pangea is still carved of some immaculate stone, but it is entirely different now.
“I waited for so long. We stayed because we knew you would come home.”
He finally sighs and lifts his head. When Father had left, his horns had hardly been more than nubs and his scales were still soft enough to be pierced. Now look at them all – titans to be feared and worshipped, each of them.
“You.. are a grandfather now,” he admits sheepishly. He had intended to tell Draco first, but he is delighted to be able to share the news with them both now.
They come rushing at him. Draco with a strange look on his face, but Ghaul with nothing but love. Litotes stumbles against their weight, leans into their embraces and finds sudden comfort in the dark cover of his son's wings. The cremello swallows back a lump in his throat. Of all the welcomings he expected, he did not hope for one so warm as this.
"Ghaul," Lie chokes out, grinning from ear to ear as his impressive son traces his face. He's frightened by the rush of emotions now roaring in his ears, and when his eyes meet Draco's, all that noise goes rushing out.
Hurt. There's so much hurt.
Lie already knows the boy is delving into his mind. He doesn't think of the damning reality now, not yet, but the look on Draco's face tells him the demon will be listening until he does. Still, the cremello leans over to exchange a nose cheek-rub with Draco, one the boy manages to return without appearing begrudging.
"A grandfather?" Lie whispers, stepping back to peer at Ghaul in shock. He rushes forward to bring his son into another embrace.
-------
"Grandfather?" Draco echoes his father. Dragging eyes he can barely keep from appearing suspicious from Lie to Ghaul, Draco's mouth falls open. He's going to be an uncle! Genuine delight blooms in his chest, luxurious and intoxicating.
It only makes sense that they continue on their precious bloodline. That Ghaul continue to make them dragons and Draco continue to make them demons. Together, they are irredeemably dark and powerful.
Draco smiles and presses his shoulder to Ghaul's. "Congratulations, brother," he murmurs, then turns his eyes to Lie. "Now, all together, we can continue to conquer." Draco doesn't know what that means to Ghaul: conquer. But for him it is fun, a game, an entertainment, and he doesn't mind riding the waves his brother creates. He knows this laziness would be frowned upon by his father and instead of thinking to keep it a secret, he feels satisfied knowing he can inflict some of what his father has inflicted on him.
"Where have you been, Father?" Draco suddenly asks, then tilts his head. He adds, "Are you here to stay?"
