Still every night I burn, every night I scream your name
Every night I burn, every night the dream's the same
Blurry images flashed before mismatched blue and gold eyes, pictures that wouldn’t quite stick in her mind. Cold iron forged into swords, slashing into the side of a volcano. Lava rising, bubbling up, flowing from those gouges, but the release wasn’t enough. An eruption, blowing the top off the volcano and raining destruction on everything nearby. Rivers of lava scorching the land and devouring grass and trees and animals. Ash pouring out of the sky, smothering the life out of everyone who had gotten too close to a volcano that would never quite be dormant.
The flashes were gone as quickly as they came, but fire built in Quark’s belly, in her chest, in her soul, and she knew. The one-time burning queen flowed into her dragon shape and flew on wings made of fire and vengeance, flew toward the source of the visions, toward a land she had left a lifetime ago. Toward her volcanic son who was about to erupt.
It took her too long to get to him. Or maybe just long enough. After all, she’d never been able to keep him from getting hurt, no matter how it made her heart ache for him. She’d only ever been able to put him back together again after the damage was done. So once again, she made her way to her son’s side, the fire in her eyes and on her skin dying down as she focused all her attention on patching him back up. First, the blood vessels in his foreleg. Regrowing, repairing the damage, restoring blood flow and healing what had been starved of oxygen. Then the broken bones, which he was always practical enough to let her fix without much fuss. Then the countless cuts and stab wounds, and as always his skin fought to hold onto the scars instead of letting her mend him up seamlessly. Stubborn, her volcano was always so stubborn. But it was his body, and he had a right to hold on if he wanted to, so she let his newest scars stay.
Well. Most of them, anyhow. But the K. The brand the iron monster had carved into her baby’s side. That, she would not allow. No matter how his skin fought her, she flooded him with healing magic, pouring all of her will into smoothing out the jagged scar tissue, regrowing the hair, erasing all trace of that fucker’s claim to his skin. Mine. She brushed her lips along the newly-healed skin, breathing in his scent the way she hadn’t been able to in years. And then she settled herself around her volcanic son, licking away the blood that he’d lost as she helped him generate more. Whole and safe and strong, as good as new but with a few more scars to add to his ever-growing collection. She crooned to him, comforting melodies she’d used to calm his heart and ease his pain since he was young, and she held him until he drifted safely from unconsciousness into sleep.
Quark stashed her son in the safest place she knew, her sanctuary of trees and shadows deep in the heart of the Jungle, her holiest of holies, hidden from sight by the abundant growth that had taken over since last she had burned it to the ground. Watch over him, she commanded the Jungle that had never really been hers to command, and certainly not in almost a decade. Lianas and ferns swallowed him up, holding him safe for her until she could return to check on him. And when she was satisfied her boy would be looked after, she shifted back into a dragon and took wing.
She could feel him by the brand he’d left in her Drow’s skin, by the sick taste of satisfaction in the blood that had dried on her son’s skin, by the darkness of the fragile cord that connected them, by the lingering of her boy’s rage and determination as part of him still tried to follow, to chase after the man who had left him broken and bleeding on the Meadow floor. This stranger was not the first she had hunted down in the name of her family, and he would not be the last.
Wind filled her dragon wings, caressing the leathery membranes and bearing her closer, closer, ever closer to the bastard who had made his last great mistake. And when she was almost in reach, those wings flared, caught a thermal updraft, and sent her body wheeling high into the sky as her soul dove for the iron man, barreling toward him and tearing through him and dragging his soul right along with her. Oh, not severing the tie entirely. No, that wouldn’t be any fun. No, she left him alive, if only just. Left him intact enough to feel his body even if he couldn’t move it. Anchored, but unable to act. Echoes of sensation, phantom pains from a body that was no longer his to weild. “Hello, precious,” she crooned, and it was only too right that she use the words of her son’s nightmares to avenge him. Oh, she would drag him to the afterlife soon enough, but for now? “Come along, darling, there’s fun to be had.” She carried him along as she flew back to her body, catching it as it rose higher and higher. Then she dove, her dragon shape coming along for the ride and settling in beside an iron statue that had once been an iron man.
“Can you feel it?” she asked, dragging her claws along his skin in an almost-caress. A wicked smile curved her lips ever so slowly upward as she added heat to the claws, building and building until it began to melt the statue’s cold iron skin, leaving distorted little scratches in her wake. “Does it hurt, precious? Mmmm, I hope it hurts. I want to hear you scream.” She drew it out like he’d done to her Drow, making it slow at first, just breaking the skin with the fire and her claws, just melting scars along his surface like the ones he’d given her boy. “Do you want to know the beautiful thing about your metal body, my dear? You’ll feel it forever. The flesh will never decay, and it will never mend. I wonder if it will drive you mad. Mmmm, I hope it does. There’s something so delicious about madness, once you’ve tasted it. You learn to love it, like you learn to love the pain.”
She dug her claws a little deeper, melting through more layers of iron tissue with the fire that had become as intrinsic a part of her as her spirit-walking was, all of her gifts working together to break the bastard who had dared to hurt one of her young. She carried on for quite some time, dancing along the edge of that delicious madness that came with the kill. Oh, not the clean kill. Those needed resolve and determination and righteous fury. But the long, drawn-out, agonized kill? That took dancing with the darkest parts of herself, and it had been quite some time since she and her shadow had been called to the dance.
When he was as scarred as her Drow had become, she stepped back, still holding onto his spirit now severed almost completely from his body. “One final touch, don’t you think?” She didn’t take his leg, oh no. She had severed a limb far more vital than his leg already. No, she circled around him until she stood at the same spot where he’d branded her son. And with those claws she’d grown so fond of, she dug a dragon’s eye into his side, taking her time to shape it into a work of art. A warning for anyone who thought they could fuck with her babies. I will be watching.
Grinning a wicked, self-satisfied grin, she left her body behind for a moment longer and dragged the iron giant to his afterlife. Dumping him on the cold, barren ground, she wiped his essence off of her not-quite-hands. “Have fun, precious,” she crooned as she turned away. Just before she disappeared, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Oh. And do watch out for more dragons, won’t you? I’m not the only one you set off with that little stunt. And you’ll be here an awful lot longer than you were with me.” Oh, and wouldn’t Nocturnal just love to sink her fangs into the man who had hurt their Drow? With a wink and a far too cheerful smile, Quark vanished, off to reclaim her body and finish mending what was broken.
Like her Drow’s starshine girl.
It didn’t take long to find the mare her son had loved in his own way since he was a child. She came to the poor girl in her horse shape, a steady, quiet Gypsy mare with roving black and white markings and her ever-mismatched eyes. “Hello, love,” she crooned, and this time it was to comfort instead of to send chills down the spine of her foe. “I think it’s time you came back to the Jungle for a little while, don’t you? Drow is there recovering. I can find a safe place for you and your children, and you can see him when he’s well enough and ready. What do you think?” As she spoke, she sent a wave of healing magic over the girl, mending the damage to her flesh, the cuts and bruises as much as the girl’s body would allow, and wiping away that horrible brand. He would not leave that mark on another, and certainly not on a girl her son loved. Even if there had been no other reason, even if it had not been for the girl’s sake, she would not have let her Drow be haunted by the reminder.
The girl was too shocky to do much aside from nod her acceptance. “Okay, dearheart. I’m going to change shape so I can carry you two back with me. It might be frightening, but it’s just me, and I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” Another shaky nod, and Quark reclaimed her dragon form, the only one she really knew big enough to carry a fullgrown, very pregnant mare and her weanling son. And when they were settled into her gentle grasp, she took to the sky again to bring them home.
Not quite to her home. Her sanctuary was for family alone, and from the sound of things it was about to get a little too busy for strangers anyhow. But she found a safe place far enough from the traveled paths that Noellen and her family would have their privacy. She showed them food and water and shelter, and left them with the promise that Drow would be along soon, or she would be by to check in. But first, her son was calling her for help.
Every night I burn, waiting for my only friend
Every night I burn, waiting for the world to end
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