It's a sunny summer morning, and you, in your human form, are pacing all around the garden. Bees are buzzing around the meticulously maintained flowerbeds, probably relieved that, for once, you're paying them absolutely no mind. You're too busy tapping away at your mobile phone.
You calls {someone}. Again. It's the twelfth time you've tried and, once again, it goes straight to voicemail. He asks you to leave a message. You hang up instead, scroll down your contact list. Charlie? Maybe Charlie? No, no, bad idea. Definitely not Rose … You come to "Ryouta" and pause, hovering over the call button.
You hit the button. The phone rings … and rings, and rings, and rings … … … … and goes to voicemail. "Yo, Ryou here. Can't take your call right now. Leave a message and I'll get back t'ya later!"
"Don't get back to me later!" You growl, frustrated. Why isn't he picking up? He needs to pick up, come on. "Get back to me now!"
You growl again. Actually growl, with a show of teeth far more dragon than human. Fuck. Okay. Ryou's not answering either, but at least his phone actually rang. That's a good sign. You shove your phone into the pocket of your skirt and sets off at a run, out of the garden and down the long lane lined with cottages and their gardens. The moment you reach the cover of a patch of trees, you shift mid stride, your wings snapping out to launch you up into the sky. You're a dragon, with a vast, 40 foot wingspan and feathers that glitter iridescent in the sunlight.
It's a short flight to reach York, barely ten minutes. A little magic keeps the humans from spotting you as you soar above the city, hunting for even the slightest trace of your quarry; sight, scent, sound. Anything. Anything at all. (There's a thrill to the hunt, despite all your worry and frustration.)
When you finally — finally! — catch a familiar scent in the wind, you don't waste time, dropping down from the sky in a move that you know would give him a heart attack if he were there to see it. You spiral down land to soundlessly in a nearby alley; you're in your human form before your feet hit the floor. You can hear Ryou now. Him and six strangers, arguing. Hm. You make a beeline to join him in the grounds of the abandoned factory.
… Where he stands loosely surrounded. One of the six strangers is carrying a piece of wood with nails sticking out of it. There's a bruise on Ryouta's cheek, and his clothes are scuffed. All of them look surprised to see you.
Oh well.
You ignore Ryouta's alarmed, "{ }?! What—" and the strangers' clamouring demands of who the fuck are you, and where the fuck did you come from. Much as you love meeting new people, you really don't have the patience for this right now.
"Ryouta! There you are, I've been looking all over, listen, I think—"
Except, you don't get to finish your sentence. The biggest human, barely an inch taller than you but much, much broader, steps in your way, gets right in your face. You stop, affronted, and he laughs, "Oooooh, what's this? Got yourself a pretty bird, huh?"
He's looking at you. Leering at you.
Like you're prey.
Like you're prey.
Wow.
The strangers titter. Ryouta starts to say something —
You grab the rude human by the biceps, lift him bodily from the ground, and drop him none too gently off to the side. Out of your way. "Anyway. Ryou—"
And that's when all hell breaks loose. Well. Kind of. A man leaps for you with a cry of bitch, only to catch your (unshod, naturally) foot in his vulnerable solar plexus, flinging him unceremoniously into another of his rude friends with enough force to dent the shipping container they crash into. The sorry excuse for a brawl — if you can call it that — is over before it really gets going, and you're barely breathing hard when you turn back to face Ryouta. He's clutching the makeshift nailbat and gawking at you like a fish out of water.
You plough on like nothing happened, "Hi. Have you heard from { }? He didn't come back from his nightshift and he's not answering his phone."
It's a beautiful day in York, and you're in a Greggs. There's a human with you: a cute girl in her late teens, with her long ginger hair tied back into twin tails.
"Holy shit, [xxx], are you serious—"
"— Oh, oh! And I'll have four sausage rolls, please, and, let's see, I'll take a steak bake, two chocolate muffins, two ring doughnuts — ehhh, Rosie, it's fine, it's fine! I'm hungry, you know — a flapjack, and this tuna sandwich … oh, and an apple! That's everything. Wait! D'you want anything, Rosie?"
Her palm is over her face, "... I'll have a banana. Thanks."
The man behind the counter bags up your snacks and takes your money, and you leave together with Rosie, her eating her banana, you happily munching your way through everything else.
She's mystified, "How you stay in shape, I don't know. Isn't the shoot next week?"
Well. You could tell her that you're a dragon and, incidentally, the biggest land-based predator on Earth, with an appetite and metabolism to match …
But that's a secret.
Instead, you shrug, offering her one of the pink, sprinkle-laden doughnuts. She shakes her head. You tear the doughnut in half, cram one in your mouth, and offer her the other. You waggle your eyebrows. She sighs and takes it.
By unspoken agreement, you turn down a long, twisting alleyway, down a flight of old stone steps, and onto path alongside the river that winds its way through the city centre. It's cool, you think — the way blend of ancient and modern, with the river at the heart of it all. You walk along together, soaking up the sunshine and watching boat after boat full of tourists drift past. Tour guides with loudspeakers blare facts about the city.
"York Minster was finally completed in 1472—"
You pause, ears twitching.
"... medieval stained glass …"
"[xxx]?" Rosie pauses with you. "What's up?"
"Did you hear that?" It sounds like a massive drum … like … huge, oddly wet-sounding booms, rushing, coming closer, and closer.
"Uhhh, no, I … wait—"
There are screams now. Running footsteps, human panic. Churning ripples on the water. Awww, shit. You drop your bags and take Rosie by the arm, calm but urgent, "Something's coming. Go back up the alley, get as far away from the river as you can."
She reaches for you, wide-eyed, "Yeah, sure, okay, sounds great, let's go!" The terrified crowd of tourists and business-folks on their lunch breaks are almost upon you, charging down the path as fast as their legs can carry them, waving their arms —
And then it appears.
Charging along the water, its massive wings beating, with a deafening, ear-splitting HONK of rage — a monstrous swan the size of a building!
Falling might be the wrong word for it, when there's no concept of up, down, or sideways. The world's a broken kaleidoscope, a fractured blur of fractals, tilting, whirling, spinning, rushing. It's incomprehensible. Sickening. You've got no control. Your ears are full of ringing bells and screaming wind.
You learn some lessons in Down, Crash, and Ground when you plow into the latter at terminal velocity, and your world fades to blessed dark.
Light and life filters through in fits and starts. You drag yourself up onto all four paws, head full of ringing, buzzing fuzz and not much more. You walk. You fall. All you can smell is blood and charred feathers. Time seems to skip. You pick yourself up, not remembering when you'd fallen. You walk. Your wings drag like broken sails. You walk, and you don't know where you're going, where you are, who you are.
The world sways around you. But you're learning, little by little, step by faltering step. You learn the turn of the earth beneath your paws, the path of the sun and moon and stars. Your vision slowly clears, and so does the ringing in your ears. You meet birds, green fields, patches of woodland and bramble, and babbling brooks. You meet four-legged, grass-eating creatures, all prey, all too fast for you to catch despite your best efforts. Fatigue weighs you down; you're so tired and it makes you clumsy.
You learn that licking your wounds soothes them, helps them heal. You hear the roar and rumble of machines from time to time, and you make yourself small, small like some of the creatures that run from you, and as exhausting as it is, it helps you hide in the thickets. You lose time again after that.
Finally, eventually, and half by accident, you stumble upon a settlement. There are machines here, built things, and a myriad of new smells and sights and creatures. It's harder to hide, here, but you're too hungry to care, scavenging for scraps under the cover of darkness. You raid their unwanted leftovers, steal eggs (and a few hens), and find fields full of berries, fruit, and vegetables. As dawn breaks over the horizon, you claw your painstaking way up into a huge old apple tree, its branches heavy with leaves and vibrant red fruit, and curl up in a comfortable nook to sleep.
The apple tree becomes your nest, and the sprawling cottage garden becomes your territory. It's a pretty place, alive with bugs (tasty when you can get them, even the buzzy yellow ones that sting) and rich with fruits and vegetables.
One of the creatures — the humans, not that you know the word yet — lives in the cottage. He's small, and quiet. You like to watch him work with his flowers and crops, and with the wooden houses he's built for the bees. Does he know he's being watched? That you're here? You can't tell. You can't bring yourself to care too much either way.
It's a hot afternoon, the sun high and shining bright, and he's tending to his bees. You watch, fascinated … and once he's gone (out the garden gate, down the road), you sneak down from your nest to investigate the hive firsthand. You've got time; he won't be back for hours now, not until the sun's set.
You gather enough strength to puff smoke into the hive — you've watched him do it a few times now, with a machine he keeps locked in his shed — and make short work of the latches, easing out one of the heavy, honey-laden wooden frames.
Snack time!
But for all the strength you've regained, you're still so tired. Exhaustion is never far away. You eat your fill of honey, relishing the sticky sweetness … until you nod off right there at the scene of the crime.
You're in your human form today. It's still very new to you, and every so often you stumble, missing the sturdiness of four paws on the ground. But! It's worth it! It's worth it to be here.
The clothes you're wearing — jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt — are several sizes too small, and the fabric feels strange and uncomfortable against your skin. You're not wearing shoes (because shoes are a crime against nature, thank you very much). But! Again! It's worth it to be here, in the middle of a giant Primark. There are humans everywhere, chattering and calling to one another, a delightful, excited cacophony.
You're lost and looking for him; you'd gotten separated in the the thick crowds. Mostly, though, you're distracted by your own sheer excitement. Look at all these cute clothes! Look at all these shiny new interesting things! Look at the escalators! You try on so many hats, perching them awkwardly on your twitchy "cat" ears, and you fill two baskets to overflowing with clothes you want. And sparkly nail polish. And a sparkly sequin cat-themed backpack. And — oh!
The memory opens to you trapped in a brightly lit containment cell … or maybe a tank would be the more accurate description, with one thick glass wall looking out into a much larger room. There's not much to it: a cold metal floor with no nest to speak of, and two metal tubes, both attached to what look like futuristic over-sized hamster bottles. One is filled with water, the other a viscous green slop. That's it. That's all you've got. It's nowhere near big enough for a creature your size. You can stand, turn around, and pace in tight circles (and you do, oh you do), but there's barely the space to fully spread your wings.
The room on the other side is much more spacious, and much less harshly lit. It's a lab of some kind - not that you know what a lab is. It's extremely high tech and futuristic. Sometimes you're alone. Sometimes mysterious, two-legged alien beings, their features obscured by masks and robes, stand there and stare at you, tapping on handheld touchscreen devices.
You can't hear anything at all outside of your tank. Can't understand where you are, or why, or what's happening. You're confused and scared and you're furious.
You try to summon your magic, your fire. Nothing. You claw at the glass. Nothing. You slam your tail and its spikes against it, headbutt it, grind your horns into it, throw yourself at it in a desperate fit of panic, howling and snarling with every breath. You want to get out, you need to get out, out out out out! But nothing happens. You haven't left so much as a scratch.
In the end, exhausted, you slump into a corner, tugging uselessly at the thick collar banded too tightly around your neck.
Notes: ✸ The Mysterious Alien Beings are not humans. They're humanoid-shaped, but the proportions are off. All of the technology is futuristic and alien.
This, except Tea is a dragon rather than a cat. The other person is, of course, THE NAMELESS GUY. His right arm is an extremely fancy and technologically advanced prosthetic. And also the house isn't quite the same; it's an English dining room that also doubles as an office, on the small side, not very fancy at all. The furniture's probably from Ikea.
You use the pandemonium — panicked, screaming; human cries shrieking over gargantuan HONKS of the godzilla-sized swan monster — to slip away from Rosie. She's carried away with the fleeing crowd, while you wedge yourself into an alcove.
Fuck.
He's not here. You can hear human voices crying out for him. "Where is he? Where's the Knight? He'll be here any second! He'll save us!"
He's not here. You're on your own. You close your eyes, reaching for your magic. (Still so weak, so limited, but that's okay, it'll be fine, you just have to buy as much time as you can.) Between one breath and the next, you let slide your veneer of humanity.
You burst out of the alcove in a rush of feathers and beating wings, your cry of challenge echoing out across the water. It's a musical sound, joyous and fierce and free, rallying the hearts of the humans below even as it stops the monster in its tracks.
"Unisonya!" The humans gasp, "It's her, it's Unisonya!" A cheer goes up.
You can do this. You can do this.
The swan recovers, kicking up a gust with its thrashing wings, lunging forward with a hair-raising hiss of rage. Its huge, serrated beak gapes open wide — but it never gets close. You call, heart and will entwined in song, and the water responds. Chains of water lash around its wings, its neck, holding it fast.
You and five friends (including Scone and his brother, Ryouta!) are gathering around a board game, all carrying snacks and drinks. You laugh, saying you hope this game'll last more than ten minutes .......... but the moment you touch the little figurine of Ox Bellows, reality warps around you! OH SHIT, YOU'VE BEEN PULLED INTO THE GAME.
This is now a JUMANJI-ESQUE BETRAYAL AT THE HOUSE ON THE HILL ISEKAI. Everyone can see their stats and they're dressed up as their characters.
Scone gets a lab coat. Ryou is wearing a purple crop top and booty shorts. A fit, gym-rat looking guy is dressed up like a little girl with a bow in his hair and a teddy bear; he makes it look good. A tough-looking young woman is dressed up as a kid with a baseball cap on backwards, and there's a red-headed man looking cute as heck in a blue dress. You, in a slim-fitting red t-shirt and jeans, immediately yank off your shoes and socks, tossing them aside. Shoes are just the worst!
Arguments quickly ensue. The gym rat, Kane, insists they should just stay still and wait for the Knight and Unisonya to come save them! If they explore they’ll get haunted, they need to just stay still!
Scone says that unless something big happens, the Knight and his partner won't know to come. He wonders outloud what they could do that would grab their attention?
You back Scone up, pointing out that usually when they appear, it's because there’s a giant monster wreaking havoc. We can't rely on them ... the fastest way to get out of here is to play the game.
Ryou does not like this and immediately argues that it's too dangerous. Nick, in the blue dress, and Aubrie in the baseball cap, are real worried about the traitor; they say almost in unison, No offense but they’re not letting anyone kill them no matter what. Aubrie punches Nick to see if pain is real, and it is. Kane looks like he's trying not to cry.
While everyone else is shouting at each other, Scone lightly nudges you with his elbow and says that it's his turn, and he's going to look over there.
Edited 2020-11-05 09:35 (UTC)
10 - cw blood, death, and specifically the death of alien creatures
And the muffled screams … desperation, terror, anger, despair, agony — and the roar of many hundreds of voices, rising and falling, sometimes in approval, sometimes in disappointment ...
After so long trapped in your sterile, soundproofed glass tank, it's an assault on your senses. You pace restlessly, sniffing over every inch of this new space, your long tail bristled and lashing in agitation. Metal, this one, with layer upon layer of old bloodstains baked into the floor. There's a door, shut for now — that's where the noises are coming from. Distant as they sound, they're too close to comfort. You don't want to know what's on the other side.
There's a sudden silence.
The roar becomes a cacophony. You don't like it. You don't like it, you want out, but there's nowhere to go. Nowhere … until, some ten minutes later, the door hisses and slides open, revealing a passageway leading vaguely upwards. You like that even less. It's too loud on the other side, too loud, too loud, you don't know what's waiting for you, you don't want to know, but in this — as in all things — you're not given a choice. The collar around your neck gives you a warning zap, but it's the floor that shocks you for real, a sharp burst of pain that makes you yelp.
It shocks you again and again and again until finally, you give in, stalking up the passageway ...
… and right out into a sci-fi alien gladiator arena, surrounded by a cheering crowd of hundreds. The door shuts behind you. A little being, a four legged (deertaur-like) creature clutching a bladed spear stands opposite, prancing anxiously in place. When it sees that you're off guard, overwhelmed by the vastness of this space, the crowds, the lights, it rushes for you with a cry, spear held aloft.
It never gets close. It's pure instinct to lash out, and one swing of your powerful, spiked tail crumples the creature like tissue.
The next creature fares no better.
You try to fly, to get at the crowds, to get away, but the moment you're a dozen feet from the dirty, blood-stained arena floor, your collar activates, searing electricity sending you crashing back down. You try again. You try again. The sixth creature they pit against you — larger, stronger, and smarter than the others — tries to take advantage, leaping for you while you're twitching on the ground. You grapple, snapping and snarling, and it dies pinned beneath you, your teeth buried in its throat.
You're exhausted, blood dripping in sticky rivulets down your foreleg; the creature you just killed got lucky with its spear. You want to stop.
The memory ends as your seventh opponent steps out into the arena.
Notes Big dragon It's hard to get a good look at the crowd, but while bipedal, they're not human. Likewise, none of the other creatures she's pitted against are humans. Only aliens and alien creatures here.
In this memory, you, in all your feathered glory, are sitting on the deck of a fishing boat. It's not a particularly bigboat, but it'll ... probably be fine?
It'll be fine.
You're singing a wordless, cheery song just for the sheer joy of it, luxuriating in the sunshine and the wide open skies. Said song may or may not be an orchestral version of Uptown Funk?? Somehow. You're a frankly phenomenal singer, it's great. Kit, at the helm, is humming along.
You boat along for a good while, trying out different songs every now and then. (Bohemian Rhapsody is a good time.) Finally, though, you prick your ears and chirp a, "Ooh, there's something here! Hang about!" to Kit.
You launch yourself up into the air, seamlessly shifting to your true size. One flourishing spin later, you dive, plunging deep into the cold water of the Atlantic ocean. You emerge again after a long few minutes, a whole ass fully grown bluefin tuna wiggling madly in your claws.
Kit looks at you. You look at him.
You both look at the tuna.
You laugh so hard you almost drop the fish. "Bigger boat next time, d'you reckon?"
It's night, and you, in your human form, are exploring a … castle? Or maybe it'd be more accurate to call it a palace. Whatever it is, it's fancy as all fuck, with huge vaulted ceilings and ancient white walls so polished they glitter. And yet, somehow, it all seems almost … organic. Tree-like? Something here is alive; you can feel it in your bones, in your blood, like a whisper of song. It's familiar.
Your way is lit by equally fancy sconces, but they aren't fitted with torches. Instead, motes of light flit around them like fireflies. They're not trapped there, it seems like they could fly wherever they want, whenever they want — but when you approach, curious you realise they're embers, tiny sparks of flame with no source. Magic. Familiar, familiar, familiar —
You're yanked out of your reverie by a dull, thudding clatter and a squeak of dismay, and spin around, startled, just in time to watch one of the vayad'ai throw themselves to the floor amongst the dozen or so large, heavy, leatherbound books they'd just dropped. They're bowing.
To you.
Uhhhhhh —
"Oh, Starsinger, Weaver, forgive me! I, uh, I, th, that is, I ..." They're bowing so low their forehead almost touches cold stone, and their frantic babbling is cut off by an odd sound like a strangled goose when you kneel down and offer them a hand.
"Nothing to apologise for!" You say. They gawk at you, their green, slit-pupiled eyes wide, mouth opening and closing uselessly, all while they make a thin, high-pitched sound like a kettle boiling over. You're not sure if it's terror or awe. Neither sit right with you.
You try again, "Here, c'mon, up you get, you really don't need to go around bowing to me. I'll help you with your books."
Slowly, fumbling and shaking all the while, they take your hand. You smile encouragingly, and they squeak, a dark blush spreading from their cheeks to the tips of their ears. They won't meet your eyes for more than a split second at a time.
Finally, they manage to stammer a few words out, "S-Starsinger, I, I am, I am unworthy of—"
"Nope!" Maybe it's rude to interrupt, but also, nope. "You're as worthy as anyone, alright?" Whatever it may be that they think they're unworthy of, because you don't have a clue. You help them up to their feet. "And while we're at it, you can just use my name, it's -"
Now it's their turn to interrupt you, but they do it by … uh.
Swooning.
The memory ends just as you catch them.
Notes ✯ The vayad'ai she's talking to looks sort of like a tiefling-esque space elf, with deer-like ears, a lion-like tufted tail, and a tiny pair of horns. They're covered in a very fine, silky coat of dusky rose-coloured fur.
You're in your in "house dragon" form today, which is to say, a little smaller than the average border collie.
Kit is busy at his desk, doing research and typing notes for a piece of coursework (in advance, because he's a good, dedicated student). He's been busy for hours. He has been busy all day. And he's not paying you nearly enough attention.
You wind around the chair. Lean against his legs. Nudge his arm. Drop your head into his lap. Cheep, chirp, and squeak, because while you're getting to grips with understanding his words, you've still got a ways to go on speaking. You drag over a squeaky bone toy he bought for you and drop that into his lap. Pull off his slippers with your teeth. You'd have knocked over his glass of water if it hadn't been empty for the past hour already. Nothing seems to get through to him. Kit. Kit, please. Kit. Pay attention to Miya, Kit.
In the end, there's only one thing for it. You steal the mouse right off the desk while he's distracted scribbling on a post-it note, and — shrinking yourself mid-leap — hop up to take its place.
His warm, human hand cups over your back, pulling you here, pushing you there. A finger taps your head. You start to purr. He wiggles you again, taps, taps, makes a quietly confused noise because why isn't his mouse working? You purr louder.
You vault over the back of the large, comfy chair in your recording studio (also known as the very-recently-converted-garage), settle in cross-legged, and try very hard to rake the remaining cobwebs out of your hair with one hand. The other is already hitting the GO LIVE button. You're might be maybe slightly a little bit of a mess, but you're also late.
"Hullo, hullo! Hi everyone! Thanks for waiting, whew—I'm Miya Truelove, and today we're holding my first ever Q! And! A!" You flash a smile for the camera. "Thanks to everyone who submitted questions, wow, there's a lot here. Let's see, let's see …"
One of your chat moderators flags up a live question, and you have to laugh. "What happened to my hair?" Giant, giant, giant spiders happened to your hair. Extremely giant spiders. "That's a surprise for another video!" Another question pops up, asking for a hint. "A hint? Hmm, hm, well, all I'll say is, look out for the next Without A Recipe challenge!"
You make a quick mental note to buy marshmallows. You can pass off spider webs as gooey marshmallow strings, right? You've seen Halloween cakes with marshmallow "web" decorations, right?? Right. It'll be fine. Moving on –
"Wrestleamyia asks, How did you get into modelling? I got pounced on the in the middle of the street and nearly had a heart attack." And nearly did a violence on reflex, but, details. "By Rosie, actually! That's how we met. She's a model and fashion designer. Let me know in the comments if you want us to do another video together again, the last one was a lot of fun— what was I saying? Oh! Right, yeah. Rosie tackled me out of nowhere and begged me to join a shoot she was doing, and I thought it sounded like fun. Things snowballed on from there."
"adambatt asks, What's your shoe-size? Shoes are the worst and should be banned. They're so pinch-y and confining. It's the barefoot life for me, my friends!"
"Elsie291 asks, What's your hair-care routine?" You laugh again, rueful, and give your hair another rake-through with your fingers. Eugh. "I wash my hair, ooh, about once a week? Usually once a week, early, early in the morning so's it's got a chance to dry. I'm trialling some new products at the mo, actually! Video'll be up on Saturday, so hang tight 'til then!"
"Anonymousse asks, What do you eat in a day? A few people've asked me to do a full video on this, actually … It's hard to say. I eat a lot. I love food, I love snacking, and there's so much yummy stuff out there I haven't tried yet! Somebody else – 1laura – asked, What's your favourite food? Hmmm. Hm! How'm I s'posed to pick just one? I like apples fresh from the garden, and honey-glazed salmon, and – I'll leave it there. Oh, but speaking of like—if you like this video, please give us a big thumbs up and ring the notification bell!"
And with that shameless call to action out of the way:
"Extracheesy1999 asks, Do you believe in flat Earth? Uh. Uhhh. Huh? What? No. Earth isn't flat. Is, is that a thing? Is that a thing people believe? There's a Science Guy who prob'ly extra definitely knows more about it than me, he's prob'ly got a video on it somewhere..."
"UniSONGyeah asks … What do you think of the latest discourse in the Prisma fandom? Uhh, what's the latest? Do I want to know? Be kind to each other, guys!"
"xxxPRISMAHOLIC asks, Are you and Kit dating? We're partners!"
"Karenvhat asks, Merch! Where's the merch!" Your only response to that is a big grin and a pair of finger guns …
You limp out of the blood-soaked arena, struggling to fold a wing that's almost certainly broken. You've left behind a dozen corpses this time. Most are, were, prisoners who'd simply had the rotten luck of being pitted against an actual dragon … while the last had been an armoured, hulking brute of a beast who'd had the smell of a willing volunteer about her.
She'd almost ripped your wing off.
Almost.
Almost.
You'll feel it later. Probably. When your head and body and heart aren't buzzing, when you're calmer, when you're settled back in that awful glass box while the robed figures stare and study …
Except, when you enter the holding area, the moving platform that usually takes you up instead takes you down. Your tail lashes, a growl rattling through you. You've never gone down before. Your tail lashes again, again, again, until a warning zap from the shock collar around your neck stops you cold.
The platform jolts to a stop, and an armoured robot sentry meets you. You want to attack. You don't. (Yet.) Instead you follow where it leads, all the way into … another … holding cell? An occupied holding cell. Half a dozen scared, hostile alien faces stare back at you as the door closes, and you can feel yourself bristle, bloodied feathers puffing and wings half unfurling, the deadly spikes that had been pressed flat against your tail flaring out.
It's a warm, sunny summer solstice, and you and Kit are making the most of it! You take a walk through the streets of the picturesque village you call a home and out to the farmlands. One of the farms is holding a strawberry picking fair out in their fields, and you spend a fun few hours picking berries and sampling homemade goodies (meringues, brownies, cakes, scones with jam and cream) from the stalls.
You have a lovely afternoon and absolutely nothing goes wrong. Sometimes you hold hands. It's all very wholesome.
In this memory, you're a very, very confused dragon the size of a labrador.
You're sitting on the living room floor. Kit, standing before you, is gesturing to a big-ass cork board covered in paper and bits of string. You know that he's trying to help you learn your fake backstory so that other humans won't suspect you're secretly a dragon from space and-or the mysterious ""hero"" Unisonya, and you're trying so, so hard to take it in.
But it's boring and detailed and you can hear a mouse scurrying around in the garden, and Kit's shoelaces look so tantatlising right now. So inviting. He shifts his feet, saying something about a trip to a theme park on your twelth birthday; it'd be a good idea to lskajdnewielsa lsdj widosnkf
The memory ends with a surprised yelp from Kit as you pounce on his shoes.
This is a montage memory of med student Kit slowly attempting to … befriend? t...rain…? you, the roughly fox-sized dragon who lives in his apple tree! It's a snapshot of scenes that take place over the course of several months.
You can't speak and you can't understand a word he's saying.
✷ You watch each other from a distance in his large country garden! Just kinda co-existing. At first, when he catches you going after his fruit and veggie patches — or his bee-hives — he dives in to try to stop you; you grab what you can and flee up the tree.
✷ He starts putting food down for you. You're Unsure at first, wondering if he's going to chase you if you go for it, but when you snuffle your way over he makes happy noises and leaves you be. He offers lots of different kinds of foods — from pet kibble and wet food (not your favourite) to vegetables and different raw and cooked meats. He takes notes! (You don't know what taking notes is.)
✷ He starts saying "Miya" when he sees you. You learn that "Miya" means you.
✷ There's a torrential thunderstorm, and he comes to coax you down from your tree with a big ol' slab of steak. You're wary, all of your feathers puffed up and the spikes in your tail flared out in warning, but the steak is tempting and his house looks temptingly warm and dry. You slink down, snatching the steak when he tentatively stretches it out to you, and bolt inside. Cue an hour of mad zoomies and Thorough Investigation. You eventually settle on top of a large bookcase in the living room.
✷ The top bookcase becomes your sleeping spot, and it now has a comfy bed and blanket on it just for you. You like to sit up there in the evenings, watching him flick through big books (encyclopedias) and scribble notes.
✷ Following him while he does chores around the house! You're curious (read: extremely fuckin nosy) but always stay out of reach. At some point he takes a break, crouches on the floor, and reaches out a hand towards you … you sidle closer and nuzzle up against his fingers.
✷ He always lets you come to him when you want to be pet.
✷ You learn that there is food in the fridge, and try to break in! It wobbles — suddenly there's a shout and a pair of arms wrap around your middle, yanking you back. You freak the fuck out, biting and scratching and thrashing; the arms release and you bolt to hide out on top of the bookcase. You keep an eye on him as he tends the bleeding wounds, while frantically preening your feathers back into place. It takes you a while to calm down. He leaves you alone.
✷ You want to go outside. He does not want you to go outside. Luckily for you, he isn't fast enough to stop you darting out around his legs whenever he opens the door for a split second. Sometimes you're gone for hours, hunting and foraging; sometimes you content yourself with a frolic around the garden. You're always back by bedtime at the latest.
✷ He buys a big children's paddling pool and fills it with sand. You have the time of your life digging and rolling in it.
✷ A ridiculous and prolonged benny hill chase scene in which Kit tries valiantly to put a modified dog harness and leash on you. It ends with Kit on the floor, a panting, exhausted heap, and both harness and leash shredded into satisfactorily tiny pieces. You trot over, sit on his back, and purr.
Sometimes her modelling career means travelling! And Kit can't drop everything to go with her. She's away, alone, in London for a week-long fashion show.
She has a free afternoon and she's spending it sampling food — lots and lots and lots of food — at a local diner. Which is great! Except for the television. They're airing a talk show, and today's topic of conversation is Prisma Knight and Unisonya … … with a particular focus on Unisonya. It is kind of uncomfortable in places.
✷ While the host consistently refers to Unisonya as she/her, one of the guests uses he/him, and several others call her "it".
✷ There are some clips of the battles Prisma Knight and Unisonya have fought. The Knight has costume changes when he switches between different elemental magics, and Unisonya primarily acts as support. How good the Knight is at fighting varies on the clip - in some he's halfway decent, and in others he's clearly struggling. There's stuff like sentient trash monsters, dinosaurs roaming city streets, and one or two brief shots of human "villains".
✷ An accredited zoologist talks excitedly about SCIENCE THINGS. PHENOTYPE. Wingspan! Her tail, with its hidden danger spikes! Her feathers! How amazing it is that she can fly! Her regenerative capabilities! How she moves! Wondering what she eats! Whether there are more of her species!
✷ One person suggests that she should be humanely captured and detained, for the safety of the public and so that they can gain a better understanding of where she came from, what she is, and what she can do. This sparks a whole ass argument about human rights (which some think shouldn't count in this instance because she isn't human, she's an animal and also possibly an alien or a secret government science experiment).
✷ There's a debate about the existence of magic. Some people are hold-outs, insisting that it can't be real, but most have accepted that it's a Thing.
✷ While the majority feel positively about the Knight and Unisonya — they are considered heroes — some definitely do Not, and are vocal about their opinion. It loops back around to the idea that Unisonya shouldn't be allowed to run wild and free, and the Prisma Knight's identity should be revealed to the public —
She is in serious danger of shattering the glass of water she's holding. Luckily, the pitter patter of approaching footsteps grabs her attention, and she turns to look with a bright, easy smile already in place. It's a gaggle of young kids, with someone who may be familiar standing close to them. An excited girl asks if she's Miya Truelove, and when Miya gives a cheerful, "That's me!" the girl Even More Excitedly asks if she can have an autograph please, she's a huge fan, wow, she can't believe she's getting to meet you in person…!
She — in her full-sized dragon form — is locked in battle, by herself, against this asshole. Black hair, red eyes, one clawed hand and a somewhat spiky prehensile tail, wearing an armoured outfit kinda like this (sans the mask) and wielding a(n electrified) chain whip sword similar to this. They're somewhere remote. Unlike her, he has a bunch of goons standing at the ready. It's rude. He's rude. And he is kicking her ass.
He's faster?? Stronger?? And he seems to anticipate her every move, countering and taunting her. Like, "Is that all you've got? Pathetic!" Y'know. The usual Midboss Villain shtick. Mostly she's just like, who the fuck even are you, holy shit.
She's trying to use magic (water, air, and fire) but it's so, so hard without Kit there. She starts falling back on pure, brutal instinct, on reflexes she didn't even know she had. She lands some vicious hits but for the most part, she's just looking for the chance to escape.
At one point he gets his chain whip fully around one of her wings, sending her crashing back down to Earth with a shriek of pain and fury, and he just laughs — "How does it feel, Champion? To be brought so low? I don't know about you, but I'm having the time of my life."
She's bleeding and exhausted, shaking all over. In one final fit of desperation, she gathers every scrap of strength she has left and — dodging around a devastating Lightning Attack — basically rips a hole in reality, throwing herself through.
And then she's falling.
Falling, falling, falling through a kaleidoscope of color and darkness, a fractured blur of fractals, tilting, whirling, spinning, rushing, until everything fades to black.
… And to say that you panic would be putting it lightly.
Trapped. Completely, utterly trapped. A cage of cruel metal straps bite into your feathers, pinning your wings tight to your body. Your legs, your tail … you can't lift your head, or open your jaw. You've been muzzled so thoroughly you can't get your mouth open, and there's something over your eyes. You think you might be in some kind of vehicle — and it has to be a big one, to hold you at your full size.
You try to thrash. It gets you nowhere. You try to call upon your magic. It doesn't answer.
You can't breathe.
You barely recognise the sounds you're making.
"It's awake!" … But you do recognise the sound of human voices around you, through the veil of rage and fear and terror and no no no no. A hand pets your flank, fingers combing through feathers. You jerk against your restraints, snarling thunderously. The hand flinches back … but not for long.
They laugh, exhilarated. "McKenzie, prep another sedative. The other one metabolised too quickly."
"On it!"
Footsteps. The hand trails up along your wings, its owner cooing over your plumage, the strength in your muscles. "I can't wait to get a proper look at you. You're a marvel — a real beauty." You want to curse them, or maybe just rip them apart limb by limb.
More footsteps — a different set, and the other voice returns. "This one should last us until we get it into the facility. Uh ..." The footsteps pause a few feet away.
"What, are you that much of a chicken?" The first voice is impatient, "It can't hurt you."
You're going to shred them-
"Who the fuck are you calling a chicken, dickhead-"
More hands. You feel a cold, sharp stab as you're injected and struggle harder than ever, hard enough that it hurts, until the sedative takes hold and drags you under.
You, Kit, and his brother Ryouta have all piled onto Kit's couch. You're all wearing pyjamas, you're all holding a mug of freshly brewed tea, and you're all exhausted.
"So," you say, calmly, like you're not a tightly wound bundle of rage and relief and trauma, or about to ask a question like — "Hands up if I can eat your parents?"
Ryou's hand shoots up.
Kit's a little more hesitant. You can tell because he puts his head in his hands and says, "Hnnnghhh."
You take a long sip of tea, staring across at the flames flickering in the fireplace.
"Mmmmmnnnnnn," says Kit, very eloquently.
"You make a compelling argument," says Ryou, "But have you considered: fuck 'em, they deserve it?"
You're inclined to agree. Heartily. You'd be doing a public service. (And also a crime. And also a PR nightmare. And also they are Kit and Ryou's parents. Thinking it through instead of reacting on gut instinct was (unfortunately) a Good Decision and you are proud of yourself.)
"... I don't know." Kit looks sidelong at his brother, lifting a hand to forestall a protest; Ryou frowns but keeps his mouth shut. "I want to say yes. They should pay for what they've done. But killing them feels … I don't know."
"If it helps," you put in, "I'd be the one doing the killing."
"It doesn't, actually." He hunches forward, elbows resting on his knees, and frowns into his mug. There's another long 'hnnnnngh' before he adds, "I'm not opposed to them being dead. It's the part where I'd be giving you approval to murder them that doesn't sit right."
You incline your head. "Right. Well. I'll respect that." For Kit's sake. For Kit's sake, you guess you can hold back. He smiles faintly at you. Both of you ignore Ryou's groan of disappointment.
Time ticks away in silence — well, sort of silence. Your hearing is very good, and Kit's 'I am thinking too hard and it is giving me a headache and possibly also indigestion' grumbling is very loud.
Finally, he breaks the silence. "What about imprisonment?"
Ryou barks a laugh, "Yes! Imprisoned in a dragon's stomach, glad we agree—"
The memory ends with Kit shoving his brother unceremoniously off the couch, tea and all.
You're trapped in an underground enclosure! It's Quite Sizeable, roughly the size of a football stadium. There's an industrial, zoo-y feel to it all — there's grass, a patch of woodland, and a shallow pool with a sandy area, but then there's also the too-bright lights, and the observation pod and enclosed catwalks way up high. The only door is a massive slab of thick metal, which, if the dents and gouges are anything to judge by, you've already tried and failed to break through.
Also? Somebody just shot you in the leg with a sedative dart.
Rude.
… But.
While you stagger, and collapse into a heap of feathers and immense displeasure … you don't pass out. You're awake. Fuzzy, yeah, and hazy, and that's not your favourite feeling in the world, but you're awake you're awake you're awake.
You're awake to listen to the door open.
Awake to listen to a group of humans trudge towards you. Eight of them, most chattering. They're scientists, interns. One guard, it sounds like. They call you "it" and "the subject" and they're here to take samples of your blood. One is complaining about the broken coffee machine in the break room. Two are murmuring together about how wild it is to be so close to a dragon, wow, it's kind of scary, right — nah, mate, it's tame, it won't hurt humans, haven't you seen the videos?
It's the owner of that last voice that says, laughing, Watch, I'm gonna take a selfie with it.
That leans against your shoulder.
That dies first, when you swing your head around and bite.
What happens from there is a whirlwind of blood, shouting, screaming, chaos. It's brutal. You are brutal - and efficient. It doesn't take much to kill a human, and you, you have always been very, very good at killing just about anything you put your mind to.
Two get away, in the end. Both bloody, one with a leg torn off, the other shooting at you as they retreat — which, ow, bullets are small but they hurt, and you reel back with a snarl as one lucky shot gouges through too close to your eye. Alarms are blaring now, lights flashing, more guns —
You and Kit are at a deserted beach! … … … Except Kit is unrecognisable, wearing the guise of the hero, Prisma Knight. His clothes are blue and his hair is also iridescent blue, and he's wearing a domino mask.
You, on the other hand, are just chillin' on a rock in denim short shorts and a cropped hoodie. There's a picnic basket next to you, and a sandwich in your hand. You gesture with the sandwich, "You can do it, Kit! It's not that much different from fire. You've just gotta reach out and shape it —"
"Reach out how?" Kit sounds like a deflated balloon. He kinda looks like a deflated balloon. "Shape it how? At least fire has the wand as a conduit." He turns to look back at the water, takes a deep breath,, and stretches out a hand, "Reeeeeeeeeeeach …"
You watch, hopeful.
Nothing happens.
"Reeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaach."
Nothing happens.
"...Reach?"
He tries flicking his hand, but nothing continues to happens. After a few more attempts Kit sighs and falls backwards into the sand with a soft whump. You slide off your rock and go to pat him on the head.
"Reaching didn't work out?"
"Reaching very much did not work out."
He sighs, furrowing his brow and you can see the gears turning in his brain as he tries to puzzle out something that really should not be this hard? You don't know how much more clearly you can explain it, and so you simply continue to pet him.
"What do you feel when you reach out?" He eventually asks. "Are you picturing the water doing anything, are you… vibing with the currents or something?"
"Uhh. Hm." Pat, pat. "Yyyyes? Yeah. Vibe with the currents! Like this, watch." You stretch out a hand — you don't have to, but maybe it'll help him get it? — and call upon the water. A thin tendril rises from the waves and twists itself into the shape of a thumbs up. "Just like that."
Rising from the sand, Kit raises his hand again. He's watching you in an attempt to mimic your movements, yet despite both your best efforts he doesn't seem to understand any better. He doesn't give up, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, forcibly relaxing his tensed shoulders. A calmness settles over him, a moment of peaceful serenity that is very swiftly cut short when he digs his heels into the sand, opens his eyes and thrusts his hand out with sudden force.
The waves ignore him as they have done all afternoon.
"Perhaps I need proximity to properly vibe with the currents."
Kit says, completely deadpan, before walking forward and throwing himself straight in the ocean.
The scene opens to a familiar diner — and it is, in fact, set right after that memory left off! She's chatting with the kids as easily as anything, no longer reacting to the televised debate about Unisonya and Prisma Knight still going on in the background. (She's still hearing it all though! They're talking about how vigilante superheroism is a slippery slope vs. human technology being useless against anomalies; they can contain some of them temporarily, but it really does look like the Knight is the only one who can seal them properly.)
The kids basically invite themselves to sit at her table while she's signing the little girl's — Amy's — notebook. They pepper her with questions like, why is she in London (she's going to the expo, which gets a round of excited gasps because WOW THEY'RE GOING TOO), what perfume she's wearing (it's a secret, if they keep watching her videos they might find out), what her favourite food is and gosh, has she tried the strawberry sundae they make here, it's amazing — (she has too many favourite foods to name but no, she hasn't tried the sundae yet, but now that she knows how good it is she definitely will, actually she'll order right now, who else wants one?)
That one red-headed kid, Leo, listens more than he talks. Something about him subtly prickles at Miya's senses, but like. Very subtly.
BUT THEN
LESS SUBTLE
… Is some big guy in a costume bursting in through the door, waving a whole-ass broadsword around like he means to use it. The costume is black spandex and armour and it looks like a lot of work has gone into it! It's very well made! He dramatically announces that he is THE SHADOW KNIGHT and he wants everybody's money and valuables!! Right now!! Don't try to stop him, he's ~more powerful than any of them could ever imagine~.
There's panic and screaming, because of course there is. The kids with her are alarmed but they're also puffing up bravely, like they're thinking of trying to do something about this.
So Miya just … gets up … and clears her throat, "Hi."
The ??? villain ??? spins around to face her, sword at the ready, "Don't even think about — wait, aren't you —"
She smiles. Waves.
And casually knocks the sword aside with the back of her hand, steps in, and punches him in the gut, all in one smooth movement. He goes down like a sack of potatoes. The diner —which seemed to have been holding its breath — erupts into noise, people shouting and talking over each other. She can hear Amy call the police.
People are shocked, they thought he'd been Anomalized! Was he a fake?!
Meanwhile she sits on the guy's back, cross-legged, and pulls his mask off. "Yeah. He was a fake." Which she'd had a Strong Feeling About from the beginning, but still. Huh. Fake villains. That's a new one.
The memory ends with the police arriving to take the guy away, sword and all, and the manager on shift thanking her profusely. She's casual about it, saying it was no big deal, but she doesn't protest when the manager declares that the sundaes — all six of them, and the rest of her bill — are on the house.
You can't see yourself, because you don't exist — just like everything (nothing) else.
But then. But then, you start to sing! Because fuck this, actually! One song becomes another becomes another, becomes wordless and ethereal, a symphony of one weaving the music of life, of creation, of the finite and the infinite, until the space sings with power; the sheer force of it crackles in the air around you.
This is a disjointed mess of a memory set immediately after this! It comes in flashes — ploughing into the ground at terminal velocity; flickering flames around you; darkness; pain; struggling to stand; collapsing; darkness; your head — your everything — seeming to spin, nausea clawing up your throat, your ears ringing, ringing, ringing; weakness like a cold heavy blanket crushing you to the ground …
A touch, tentative, barely brushing your wing.
you're in the arena, down but not out, pain doesn't matter nothing matters you're going to live, you're going to live, you're going to live
"-nya-"
You're —
… Pinning a familiar kid by his throat.. Seeing yourself reflected in wide green eyes. He says your name again, quiet, tight — Unisonya — and you wrench yourself away, stumbling, wavering, half collapsing, and you snarl a wordless warning when he picks himself up in your periphery.
It's hard to focus on him. It's hard to hear him. He keeps his distance, keeps his hands where you can see them. You want to laugh, because he has no idea …
He wants you to follow him, so he can help. You think that's what he's saying, anyway. You summon what little power you can and shrink yourself down to the size of a great dane — less conspicuous than a dragon the size of a horse, more than big enough to be a threat if you need to be — and —
Oh.
You passed out again.
You find your feet. Again. Snarl, again, when you think he might get too close, but when he backs off you force yourself to follow, one paw in front of the other, across the playing field you crash-landed in and to a ??? hidden bedroom ??? accessed through the school gym's storage room. There are secret panels and codes but you're too out of it to focus like you should, and before long you find yourself fading again.
✷ it is NIGHT TIME in a NICE (but not swanky) HOTEL in London, England! Miya is in her human form and also her PJs, and she's heading out of her room to find a vending machine.
✷ instead she spots this kid c…limbing into a painting…? Like the painting is a portal. The painting is ABSOLUTELY A PORTAL to ??? who even knows where! uh oh oh yikes oh geez, okay
✷ she climbs in after him!
✷ and suddenly both she and the kid are standing in another world! It's fantastical and colourful, with three moons and binary suns. wild. The kid was staring around himself with his jaw dropped, but he quickly notices Miya and turns to face her, asking what she's doing there, why did she follow him?
✷ To which she responds, uhh, because I just saw a kid climbing into a magical painting portal in the middle of the night? She asks why he did that, and after a pause he explains that his friends are missing; they went out to get snacks from the vending machine and never came back, and when he went out to look for them he noticed the surface of the painting ripple.
✷ The memory ends with her saying, "Whew. Wow. Weeeeell, okidokie, then! I'll help you look."
This is all one memory! There's some cuts, but it's basically a day-in-the-life.
✷ Jolting awake from a nightmare in her own bed, in human form. It's very, very early morning. She takes some deep breaths, and transforms into a cat-sized dragon to pad quietly to Kit's room and clamber up into his bed. He only kinda wakes up, mumbling groggily and snuggling in close. She falls back asleep curled against his chest.
✷ Kissing Kit on the cheek as they both rush off in the morning; him to his shift at the hospital, and her a modelling shoot at a park in the city. It's a good fun time and everyone at the shoot is friendly and happy to be there! Her human act around these people is impeccable.
✷ UH OH SUDDENLY A ??? DRAGON ??? drops down from the sky to RAZE THE CITY. It's a big ol' black lizard-y wyvern-type with lots of scales, spikes and fiery breath, and a red glow where its heart is. Everyone cries out, OH SHIT IT'S AN ANOMALY, RUN. All of the normies flee for cover; Miya pretends to, but she actually just ducks away to transform into her ""hero"" guise: Unisonya the dragon!
The Prisma Knight — another hero — appears shortly afterwards. They work together to draw the wyvern away from the city proper and do battle against it. It's very dramatic and high-octane, and while the Knight still isn't a super fantastic badass fighter by any means, he's better than he used to be. They realise that its heart is a Feather and do a fancy combination magic attack targeting it directly. It takes a few hits, but then ...
The red glow cracks; the dragon dissolves into ethereal sparkles; and all that's left is a fancy-looking mystical crystalline feather, glowing brightly. The Knight touches it with his sword, the glow gets even brighter … and suddenly both the glow and the feather vanish without a trace. A crowd of hundreds of spectators cheer. News reporters are there, too, including a couple of helicopters. Unisonya offers a cheerful apology, sorry we can't stay to chat this afternoon!
And the heroes just. Vanish, leaving the crowd in awe. Which they can both see because they're just invisible lol. They quietly skedaddle out of there to detransform in privacy.
✷ The rest of the shoot is postponed until the next day. Miya rushes home to her recording studio (aka their garage conversion) for a LIVESTREAM where she plays a team-based battle royale game … except then her viewers challenge her to SING THROUGH IT so now it's a musical battle royale. It's very very silly and her singing is amazing, even when she switches out the actual lyrics for commentary about the game.
✷ After the stream, she does some video editing, then films a workout routine vlog that was apparently the most highly requested video for two months in a row. And then she has a lot of boring telephone calls with her modelling agency about modelling things. It's busy. She's busy.
✷ On the way to meet up with Kit for dinner, she: catches a runaway dog and reunites it with its owner, saves an old lady from being hit by a car, and drops a wannabe mugger in the river. Dinner is fish and chips on a park bench and it's delicious.
TIMESKIP TO LATE EVENING
✷ Miya — still in her human form — and Kit are at a remote beach somewhere, and they're not alone! There's Kit's brother Ryou, a teenager called Robyn, AKA the hero Papillon; an even younger teenager called Leo; a very normal-looking woman in her mid-twenties called Charlie, who brought sandwiches and refreshments for everybody; this guy, named Nil; and an extremely handsome tiefling-esque space elf with cute lil curved horns, a tail startlingly similar to Miya's own except lavender, and a pair of small wings … everyone calls him Zyl or Zylneiros, except Nil, who mockingly calls him My Prince.
They're here to do COMBAT TRAINING — the threat posed by "The Witch and her Generals" is growing by the day, and they need to be prepared. They start with Robyn eagerly demanding to spar with Miya, which she agrees to go along with. Miya is the easy victor and she is very careful and gentle ok.
Leo is working with Robyn to correct her martial arts form; Zyl and Kit pair up to spar with swords and talk about how Kit can best make use of the different elemental magics he wields; Ryou and Charlie eat sandwiches and argue about when it is and isn't okay to punch people in a colourful variety of ways. Charlie is kind of a goody two-shoes but accepts that sometimes you have to defend yourself or others ... very, very, very carefully-
Leaving Miya and Nil standing twelve feet apart, both a little tense, a little still, their postures a mirror of each other. WHEW BOY. The spar starts off kinda slow, kinda tentative, with some banter — but then he teasingly calls her "Champion" and both of them stop holding back at all. IT'S. KINDA BRUTAL!! And though it seems for a second like Miya might lose, she turns the tables. When he's the one on the ground, his the tip of his own blade resting against his throat, she says, very evenly, "Don't call me that."
… But then she throws the sword off to the side and offers him a hand up, which he grumbles about but accepts. It's … probably fine?
✷ They all have a sunset picnic of sandwiches and chocolate bars, and then, one at a time, hop into a hole in reality to go home. Kit and Miya are the last, and the memory ends with them both flopping on top of his bed, fully clothed and exhausted.
Notes - There are some fairly distinct differences in her voice, tone, and body language depending on who she's interacting with! They're all English and speaking English but if they were an anime:
She'd use boku with Kit or the hero team... except with Nil! With him she'd use ore. As the dragon hero Unisonya she'd use watashi, and as the YouTuber she'd use atashi. This is very stupid and I'm sorry.
Basically she presents herself very differently depending on her audience at any given moment.
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1
You calls {someone}. Again. It's the twelfth time you've tried and, once again, it goes straight to voicemail. He asks you to leave a message. You hang up instead, scroll down your contact list. Charlie? Maybe Charlie? No, no, bad idea. Definitely not Rose … You come to "Ryouta" and pause, hovering over the call button.
You hit the button. The phone rings … and rings, and rings, and rings … … … … and goes to voicemail. "Yo, Ryou here. Can't take your call right now. Leave a message and I'll get back t'ya later!"
"Don't get back to me later!" You growl, frustrated. Why isn't he picking up? He needs to pick up, come on. "Get back to me now!"
You growl again. Actually growl, with a show of teeth far more dragon than human. Fuck. Okay. Ryou's not answering either, but at least his phone actually rang. That's a good sign. You shove your phone into the pocket of your skirt and sets off at a run, out of the garden and down the long lane lined with cottages and their gardens. The moment you reach the cover of a patch of trees, you shift mid stride, your wings snapping out to launch you up into the sky. You're a dragon, with a vast, 40 foot wingspan and feathers that glitter iridescent in the sunlight.
It's a short flight to reach York, barely ten minutes. A little magic keeps the humans from spotting you as you soar above the city, hunting for even the slightest trace of your quarry; sight, scent, sound. Anything. Anything at all. (There's a thrill to the hunt, despite all your worry and frustration.)
When you finally — finally! — catch a familiar scent in the wind, you don't waste time, dropping down from the sky in a move that you know would give him a heart attack if he were there to see it. You spiral down land to soundlessly in a nearby alley; you're in your human form before your feet hit the floor. You can hear Ryou now. Him and six strangers, arguing. Hm. You make a beeline to join him in the grounds of the abandoned factory.
… Where he stands loosely surrounded. One of the six strangers is carrying a piece of wood with nails sticking out of it. There's a bruise on Ryouta's cheek, and his clothes are scuffed. All of them look surprised to see you.
Oh well.
You ignore Ryouta's alarmed, "{ }?! What—" and the strangers' clamouring demands of who the fuck are you, and where the fuck did you come from. Much as you love meeting new people, you really don't have the patience for this right now.
"Ryouta! There you are, I've been looking all over, listen, I think—"
Except, you don't get to finish your sentence. The biggest human, barely an inch taller than you but much, much broader, steps in your way, gets right in your face. You stop, affronted, and he laughs, "Oooooh, what's this? Got yourself a pretty bird, huh?"
He's looking at you. Leering at you.
Like you're prey.
Like you're prey.
Wow.
The strangers titter. Ryouta starts to say something —
You grab the rude human by the biceps, lift him bodily from the ground, and drop him none too gently off to the side. Out of your way. "Anyway. Ryou—"
And that's when all hell breaks loose. Well. Kind of. A man leaps for you with a cry of bitch, only to catch your (unshod, naturally) foot in his vulnerable solar plexus, flinging him unceremoniously into another of his rude friends with enough force to dent the shipping container they crash into. The sorry excuse for a brawl — if you can call it that — is over before it really gets going, and you're barely breathing hard when you turn back to face Ryouta. He's clutching the makeshift nailbat and gawking at you like a fish out of water.
You plough on like nothing happened, "Hi. Have you heard from { }? He didn't come back from his nightshift and he's not answering his phone."
2
"Holy shit, [xxx], are you serious—"
"— Oh, oh! And I'll have four sausage rolls, please, and, let's see, I'll take a steak bake, two chocolate muffins, two ring doughnuts — ehhh, Rosie, it's fine, it's fine! I'm hungry, you know — a flapjack, and this tuna sandwich … oh, and an apple! That's everything. Wait! D'you want anything, Rosie?"
Her palm is over her face, "... I'll have a banana. Thanks."
The man behind the counter bags up your snacks and takes your money, and you leave together with Rosie, her eating her banana, you happily munching your way through everything else.
She's mystified, "How you stay in shape, I don't know. Isn't the shoot next week?"
Well. You could tell her that you're a dragon and, incidentally, the biggest land-based predator on Earth, with an appetite and metabolism to match …
But that's a secret.
Instead, you shrug, offering her one of the pink, sprinkle-laden doughnuts. She shakes her head. You tear the doughnut in half, cram one in your mouth, and offer her the other. You waggle your eyebrows. She sighs and takes it.
By unspoken agreement, you turn down a long, twisting alleyway, down a flight of old stone steps, and onto path alongside the river that winds its way through the city centre. It's cool, you think — the way blend of ancient and modern, with the river at the heart of it all. You walk along together, soaking up the sunshine and watching boat after boat full of tourists drift past. Tour guides with loudspeakers blare facts about the city.
"York Minster was finally completed in 1472—"
You pause, ears twitching.
"... medieval stained glass …"
"[xxx]?" Rosie pauses with you. "What's up?"
"Did you hear that?" It sounds like a massive drum … like … huge, oddly wet-sounding booms, rushing, coming closer, and closer.
"Uhhh, no, I … wait—"
There are screams now. Running footsteps, human panic. Churning ripples on the water. Awww, shit. You drop your bags and take Rosie by the arm, calm but urgent, "Something's coming. Go back up the alley, get as far away from the river as you can."
She reaches for you, wide-eyed, "Yeah, sure, okay, sounds great, let's go!" The terrified crowd of tourists and business-folks on their lunch breaks are almost upon you, charging down the path as fast as their legs can carry them, waving their arms —
And then it appears.
Charging along the water, its massive wings beating, with a deafening, ear-splitting HONK of rage — a monstrous swan the size of a building!
3
Falling might be the wrong word for it, when there's no concept of up, down, or sideways. The world's a broken kaleidoscope, a fractured blur of fractals, tilting, whirling, spinning, rushing. It's incomprehensible. Sickening. You've got no control. Your ears are full of ringing bells and screaming wind.
You learn some lessons in Down, Crash, and Ground when you plow into the latter at terminal velocity, and your world fades to blessed dark.
Light and life filters through in fits and starts. You drag yourself up onto all four paws, head full of ringing, buzzing fuzz and not much more. You walk. You fall. All you can smell is blood and charred feathers. Time seems to skip. You pick yourself up, not remembering when you'd fallen. You walk. Your wings drag like broken sails. You walk, and you don't know where you're going, where you are, who you are.
The world sways around you. But you're learning, little by little, step by faltering step. You learn the turn of the earth beneath your paws, the path of the sun and moon and stars. Your vision slowly clears, and so does the ringing in your ears. You meet birds, green fields, patches of woodland and bramble, and babbling brooks. You meet four-legged, grass-eating creatures, all prey, all too fast for you to catch despite your best efforts. Fatigue weighs you down; you're so tired and it makes you clumsy.
You learn that licking your wounds soothes them, helps them heal. You hear the roar and rumble of machines from time to time, and you make yourself small, small like some of the creatures that run from you, and as exhausting as it is, it helps you hide in the thickets. You lose time again after that.
Finally, eventually, and half by accident, you stumble upon a settlement. There are machines here, built things, and a myriad of new smells and sights and creatures. It's harder to hide, here, but you're too hungry to care, scavenging for scraps under the cover of darkness. You raid their unwanted leftovers, steal eggs (and a few hens), and find fields full of berries, fruit, and vegetables. As dawn breaks over the horizon, you claw your painstaking way up into a huge old apple tree, its branches heavy with leaves and vibrant red fruit, and curl up in a comfortable nook to sleep.
4
One of the creatures — the humans, not that you know the word yet — lives in the cottage. He's small, and quiet. You like to watch him work with his flowers and crops, and with the wooden houses he's built for the bees. Does he know he's being watched? That you're here? You can't tell. You can't bring yourself to care too much either way.
It's a hot afternoon, the sun high and shining bright, and he's tending to his bees. You watch, fascinated … and once he's gone (out the garden gate, down the road), you sneak down from your nest to investigate the hive firsthand. You've got time; he won't be back for hours now, not until the sun's set.
You gather enough strength to puff smoke into the hive — you've watched him do it a few times now, with a machine he keeps locked in his shed — and make short work of the latches, easing out one of the heavy, honey-laden wooden frames.
Snack time!
But for all the strength you've regained, you're still so tired. Exhaustion is never far away. You eat your fill of honey, relishing the sticky sweetness … until you nod off right there at the scene of the crime.
The memory ends with the creaking of a gate.
5
In the middle of a gigantic Primark.
The clothes you're wearing — jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt — are several sizes too small, and the fabric feels strange and uncomfortable against your skin. You're not wearing shoes (because shoes are a crime against nature, thank you very much). But! Again! It's worth it to be here, in the middle of a giant Primark. There are humans everywhere, chattering and calling to one another, a delightful, excited cacophony.
You're lost and looking for him; you'd gotten separated in the the thick crowds. Mostly, though, you're distracted by your own sheer excitement. Look at all these cute clothes! Look at all these shiny new interesting things! Look at the escalators! You try on so many hats, perching them awkwardly on your twitchy "cat" ears, and you fill two baskets to overflowing with clothes you want. And sparkly nail polish. And a sparkly sequin cat-themed backpack. And — oh!
There he is! On the floor below!
The memory ends with you climbing over the edge of glass railing, happily calling out a name that gets blanked out as you prepare to jump.
6
The room on the other side is much more spacious, and much less harshly lit. It's a lab of some kind - not that you know what a lab is. It's extremely high tech and futuristic. Sometimes you're alone. Sometimes mysterious, two-legged alien beings, their features obscured by masks and robes, stand there and stare at you, tapping on handheld touchscreen devices.
You can't hear anything at all outside of your tank. Can't understand where you are, or why, or what's happening. You're confused and scared and you're furious.
You try to summon your magic, your fire. Nothing. You claw at the glass. Nothing. You slam your tail and its spikes against it, headbutt it, grind your horns into it, throw yourself at it in a desperate fit of panic, howling and snarling with every breath. You want to get out, you need to get out, out out out out! But nothing happens. You haven't left so much as a scratch.
In the end, exhausted, you slump into a corner, tugging uselessly at the thick collar banded too tightly around your neck.
Notes:
✸ The Mysterious Alien Beings are not humans. They're humanoid-shaped, but the proportions are off. All of the technology is futuristic and alien.
7
This, except Tea is a dragon rather than a cat.
The other person is, of course, THE NAMELESS GUY. His right arm is an extremely fancy and technologically advanced prosthetic.
And also the house isn't quite the same; it's an English dining room that also doubles as an office, on the small side, not very fancy at all. The furniture's probably from Ikea.
8
Fuck.
He's not here. You can hear human voices crying out for him. "Where is he? Where's the Knight? He'll be here any second! He'll save us!"
He's not here. You're on your own. You close your eyes, reaching for your magic. (Still so weak, so limited, but that's okay, it'll be fine, you just have to buy as much time as you can.) Between one breath and the next, you let slide your veneer of humanity.
You burst out of the alcove in a rush of feathers and beating wings, your cry of challenge echoing out across the water. It's a musical sound, joyous and fierce and free, rallying the hearts of the humans below even as it stops the monster in its tracks.
"Unisonya!" The humans gasp, "It's her, it's Unisonya!" A cheer goes up.
You can do this. You can do this.
The swan recovers, kicking up a gust with its thrashing wings, lunging forward with a hair-raising hiss of rage. Its huge, serrated beak gapes open wide — but it never gets close. You call, heart and will entwined in song, and the water responds. Chains of water lash around its wings, its neck, holding it fast.
For now.
"Unisonya! Unisonya!"
9
This is now a JUMANJI-ESQUE BETRAYAL AT THE HOUSE ON THE HILL ISEKAI. Everyone can see their stats and they're dressed up as their characters.
Scone gets a lab coat. Ryou is wearing a purple crop top and booty shorts. A fit, gym-rat looking guy is dressed up like a little girl with a bow in his hair and a teddy bear; he makes it look good. A tough-looking young woman is dressed up as a kid with a baseball cap on backwards, and there's a red-headed man looking cute as heck in a blue dress. You, in a slim-fitting red t-shirt and jeans, immediately yank off your shoes and socks, tossing them aside. Shoes are just the worst!
Arguments quickly ensue. The gym rat, Kane, insists they should just stay still and wait for the Knight and Unisonya to come save them! If they explore they’ll get haunted, they need to just stay still!
Scone says that unless something big happens, the Knight and his partner won't know to come. He wonders outloud what they could do that would grab their attention?
You back Scone up, pointing out that usually when they appear, it's because there’s a giant monster wreaking havoc. We can't rely on them ... the fastest way to get out of here is to play the game.
Ryou does not like this and immediately argues that it's too dangerous. Nick, in the blue dress, and Aubrie in the baseball cap, are real worried about the traitor; they say almost in unison, No offense but they’re not letting anyone kill them no matter what. Aubrie punches Nick to see if pain is real, and it is. Kane looks like he's trying not to cry.
While everyone else is shouting at each other, Scone lightly nudges you with his elbow and says that it's his turn, and he's going to look over there.
10 - cw blood, death, and specifically the death of alien creatures
Pain.
Blood.
And the muffled screams … desperation, terror, anger, despair, agony — and the roar of many hundreds of voices, rising and falling, sometimes in approval, sometimes in disappointment ...
After so long trapped in your sterile, soundproofed glass tank, it's an assault on your senses. You pace restlessly, sniffing over every inch of this new space, your long tail bristled and lashing in agitation. Metal, this one, with layer upon layer of old bloodstains baked into the floor. There's a door, shut for now — that's where the noises are coming from. Distant as they sound, they're too close to comfort. You don't want to know what's on the other side.
There's a sudden silence.
The roar becomes a cacophony. You don't like it. You don't like it, you want out, but there's nowhere to go. Nowhere … until, some ten minutes later, the door hisses and slides open, revealing a passageway leading vaguely upwards. You like that even less. It's too loud on the other side, too loud, too loud, you don't know what's waiting for you, you don't want to know, but in this — as in all things — you're not given a choice. The collar around your neck gives you a warning zap, but it's the floor that shocks you for real, a sharp burst of pain that makes you yelp.
It shocks you again and again and again until finally, you give in, stalking up the passageway ...
… and right out into a sci-fi alien gladiator arena, surrounded by a cheering crowd of hundreds. The door shuts behind you. A little being, a four legged (deertaur-like) creature clutching a bladed spear stands opposite, prancing anxiously in place. When it sees that you're off guard, overwhelmed by the vastness of this space, the crowds, the lights, it rushes for you with a cry, spear held aloft.
It never gets close. It's pure instinct to lash out, and one swing of your powerful, spiked tail crumples the creature like tissue.
The next creature fares no better.
You try to fly, to get at the crowds, to get away, but the moment you're a dozen feet from the dirty, blood-stained arena floor, your collar activates, searing electricity sending you crashing back down. You try again. You try again. The sixth creature they pit against you — larger, stronger, and smarter than the others — tries to take advantage, leaping for you while you're twitching on the ground. You grapple, snapping and snarling, and it dies pinned beneath you, your teeth buried in its throat.
You're exhausted, blood dripping in sticky rivulets down your foreleg; the creature you just killed got lucky with its spear. You want to stop.
The memory ends as your seventh opponent steps out into the arena.
Notes
Big dragon
It's hard to get a good look at the crowd, but while bipedal, they're not human.
Likewise, none of the other creatures she's pitted against are humans. Only aliens and alien creatures here.
11
But you do enjoy being caught and yeeted across the room by your best friend, Kit.
There's absolutely nothing else to this. No dialogue. No nothing.
Just yeeting.
12
It'll be fine.
You're singing a wordless, cheery song just for the sheer joy of it, luxuriating in the sunshine and the wide open skies. Said song may or may not be an orchestral version of Uptown Funk?? Somehow. You're a frankly phenomenal singer, it's great. Kit, at the helm, is humming along.
You boat along for a good while, trying out different songs every now and then. (Bohemian Rhapsody is a good time.) Finally, though, you prick your ears and chirp a, "Ooh, there's something here! Hang about!" to Kit.
You launch yourself up into the air, seamlessly shifting to your true size. One flourishing spin later, you dive, plunging deep into the cold water of the Atlantic ocean. You emerge again after a long few minutes, a whole ass fully grown bluefin tuna wiggling madly in your claws.
Kit looks at you. You look at him.
You both look at the tuna.
You laugh so hard you almost drop the fish. "Bigger boat next time, d'you reckon?"
13
Your way is lit by equally fancy sconces, but they aren't fitted with torches. Instead, motes of light flit around them like fireflies. They're not trapped there, it seems like they could fly wherever they want, whenever they want — but when you approach, curious you realise they're embers, tiny sparks of flame with no source. Magic. Familiar, familiar, familiar —
You're yanked out of your reverie by a dull, thudding clatter and a squeak of dismay, and spin around, startled, just in time to watch one of the vayad'ai throw themselves to the floor amongst the dozen or so large, heavy, leatherbound books they'd just dropped. They're bowing.
To you.
Uhhhhhh —
"Oh, Starsinger, Weaver, forgive me! I, uh, I, th, that is, I ..." They're bowing so low their forehead almost touches cold stone, and their frantic babbling is cut off by an odd sound like a strangled goose when you kneel down and offer them a hand.
"Nothing to apologise for!" You say. They gawk at you, their green, slit-pupiled eyes wide, mouth opening and closing uselessly, all while they make a thin, high-pitched sound like a kettle boiling over. You're not sure if it's terror or awe. Neither sit right with you.
You try again, "Here, c'mon, up you get, you really don't need to go around bowing to me. I'll help you with your books."
Slowly, fumbling and shaking all the while, they take your hand. You smile encouragingly, and they squeak, a dark blush spreading from their cheeks to the tips of their ears. They won't meet your eyes for more than a split second at a time.
Finally, they manage to stammer a few words out, "S-Starsinger, I, I am, I am unworthy of—"
"Nope!" Maybe it's rude to interrupt, but also, nope. "You're as worthy as anyone, alright?" Whatever it may be that they think they're unworthy of, because you don't have a clue. You help them up to their feet. "And while we're at it, you can just use my name, it's -"
Now it's their turn to interrupt you, but they do it by … uh.
Swooning.
The memory ends just as you catch them.
Notes
✯ The vayad'ai she's talking to looks sort of like a tiefling-esque space elf, with deer-like ears, a lion-like tufted tail, and a tiny pair of horns. They're covered in a very fine, silky coat of dusky rose-coloured fur.
14
Kit is busy at his desk, doing research and typing notes for a piece of coursework (in advance, because he's a good, dedicated student). He's been busy for hours. He has been busy all day. And he's not paying you nearly enough attention.
You wind around the chair. Lean against his legs. Nudge his arm. Drop your head into his lap. Cheep, chirp, and squeak, because while you're getting to grips with understanding his words, you've still got a ways to go on speaking. You drag over a squeaky bone toy he bought for you and drop that into his lap. Pull off his slippers with your teeth. You'd have knocked over his glass of water if it hadn't been empty for the past hour already. Nothing seems to get through to him. Kit. Kit, please. Kit. Pay attention to Miya, Kit.
In the end, there's only one thing for it. You steal the mouse right off the desk while he's distracted scribbling on a post-it note, and — shrinking yourself mid-leap — hop up to take its place.
His warm, human hand cups over your back, pulling you here, pushing you there. A finger taps your head. You start to purr. He wiggles you again, taps, taps, makes a quietly confused noise because why isn't his mouse working? You purr louder.
And that's finally when it clicks. "Miya??"
15
"Hullo, hullo! Hi everyone! Thanks for waiting, whew—I'm Miya Truelove, and today we're holding my first ever Q! And! A!" You flash a smile for the camera. "Thanks to everyone who submitted questions, wow, there's a lot here. Let's see, let's see …"
One of your chat moderators flags up a live question, and you have to laugh. "What happened to my hair?" Giant, giant, giant spiders happened to your hair. Extremely giant spiders. "That's a surprise for another video!" Another question pops up, asking for a hint. "A hint? Hmm, hm, well, all I'll say is, look out for the next Without A Recipe challenge!"
You make a quick mental note to buy marshmallows. You can pass off spider webs as gooey marshmallow strings, right? You've seen Halloween cakes with marshmallow "web" decorations, right?? Right. It'll be fine. Moving on –
"Wrestleamyia asks, How did you get into modelling? I got pounced on the in the middle of the street and nearly had a heart attack." And nearly did a violence on reflex, but, details. "By Rosie, actually! That's how we met. She's a model and fashion designer. Let me know in the comments if you want us to do another video together again, the last one was a lot of fun— what was I saying? Oh! Right, yeah. Rosie tackled me out of nowhere and begged me to join a shoot she was doing, and I thought it sounded like fun. Things snowballed on from there."
"adambatt asks, What's your shoe-size? Shoes are the worst and should be banned. They're so pinch-y and confining. It's the barefoot life for me, my friends!"
"Elsie291 asks, What's your hair-care routine?" You laugh again, rueful, and give your hair another rake-through with your fingers. Eugh. "I wash my hair, ooh, about once a week? Usually once a week, early, early in the morning so's it's got a chance to dry. I'm trialling some new products at the mo, actually! Video'll be up on Saturday, so hang tight 'til then!"
"Anonymousse asks, What do you eat in a day? A few people've asked me to do a full video on this, actually … It's hard to say. I eat a lot. I love food, I love snacking, and there's so much yummy stuff out there I haven't tried yet! Somebody else – 1laura – asked, What's your favourite food? Hmmm. Hm! How'm I s'posed to pick just one? I like apples fresh from the garden, and honey-glazed salmon, and – I'll leave it there. Oh, but speaking of like—if you like this video, please give us a big thumbs up and ring the notification bell!"
And with that shameless call to action out of the way:
"Extracheesy1999 asks, Do you believe in flat Earth? Uh. Uhhh. Huh? What? No. Earth isn't flat. Is, is that a thing? Is that a thing people believe? There's a Science Guy who prob'ly extra definitely knows more about it than me, he's prob'ly got a video on it somewhere..."
"UniSONGyeah asks … What do you think of the latest discourse in the Prisma fandom? Uhh, what's the latest? Do I want to know? Be kind to each other, guys!"
"xxxPRISMAHOLIC asks, Are you and Kit dating? We're partners!"
"Karenvhat asks, Merch! Where's the merch!" Your only response to that is a big grin and a pair of finger guns …
The memory fades.
16
She'd almost ripped your wing off.
Almost.
Almost.
You'll feel it later. Probably. When your head and body and heart aren't buzzing, when you're calmer, when you're settled back in that awful glass box while the robed figures stare and study …
Except, when you enter the holding area, the moving platform that usually takes you up instead takes you down. Your tail lashes, a growl rattling through you. You've never gone down before. Your tail lashes again, again, again, until a warning zap from the shock collar around your neck stops you cold.
The platform jolts to a stop, and an armoured robot sentry meets you. You want to attack. You don't. (Yet.) Instead you follow where it leads, all the way into … another … holding cell? An occupied holding cell. Half a dozen scared, hostile alien faces stare back at you as the door closes, and you can feel yourself bristle, bloodied feathers puffing and wings half unfurling, the deadly spikes that had been pressed flat against your tail flaring out.
You don't want to attack.
But you will, if you have to.
17
You have a lovely afternoon and absolutely nothing goes wrong. Sometimes you hold hands. It's all very wholesome.
18
You're sitting on the living room floor. Kit, standing before you, is gesturing to a big-ass cork board covered in paper and bits of string. You know that he's trying to help you learn your fake backstory so that other humans won't suspect you're secretly a dragon from space and-or the mysterious ""hero"" Unisonya, and you're trying so, so hard to take it in.
But it's boring and detailed and you can hear a mouse scurrying around in the garden, and Kit's shoelaces look so tantatlising right now. So inviting. He shifts his feet, saying something about a trip to a theme park on your twelth birthday; it'd be a good idea to lskajdnewielsa lsdj widosnkf
The memory ends with a surprised yelp from Kit as you pounce on his shoes.
19
Of what?
Everything.
It's a solid (infinity) five minutes of nothingness.
20
You can't speak and you can't understand a word he's saying.
✷ You watch each other from a distance in his large country garden! Just kinda co-existing. At first, when he catches you going after his fruit and veggie patches — or his bee-hives — he dives in to try to stop you; you grab what you can and flee up the tree.
✷ He starts putting food down for you. You're Unsure at first, wondering if he's going to chase you if you go for it, but when you snuffle your way over he makes happy noises and leaves you be. He offers lots of different kinds of foods — from pet kibble and wet food (not your favourite) to vegetables and different raw and cooked meats. He takes notes! (You don't know what taking notes is.)
✷ He starts saying "Miya" when he sees you. You learn that "Miya" means you.
✷ There's a torrential thunderstorm, and he comes to coax you down from your tree with a big ol' slab of steak. You're wary, all of your feathers puffed up and the spikes in your tail flared out in warning, but the steak is tempting and his house looks temptingly warm and dry. You slink down, snatching the steak when he tentatively stretches it out to you, and bolt inside. Cue an hour of mad zoomies and Thorough Investigation. You eventually settle on top of a large bookcase in the living room.
✷ The top bookcase becomes your sleeping spot, and it now has a comfy bed and blanket on it just for you. You like to sit up there in the evenings, watching him flick through big books (encyclopedias) and scribble notes.
✷ Following him while he does chores around the house! You're curious (read: extremely fuckin nosy) but always stay out of reach. At some point he takes a break, crouches on the floor, and reaches out a hand towards you … you sidle closer and nuzzle up against his fingers.
✷ He always lets you come to him when you want to be pet.
✷ You learn that there is food in the fridge, and try to break in! It wobbles — suddenly there's a shout and a pair of arms wrap around your middle, yanking you back. You freak the fuck out, biting and scratching and thrashing; the arms release and you bolt to hide out on top of the bookcase. You keep an eye on him as he tends the bleeding wounds, while frantically preening your feathers back into place. It takes you a while to calm down. He leaves you alone.
✷ You want to go outside. He does not want you to go outside. Luckily for you, he isn't fast enough to stop you darting out around his legs whenever he opens the door for a split second. Sometimes you're gone for hours, hunting and foraging; sometimes you content yourself with a frolic around the garden. You're always back by bedtime at the latest.
✷ He buys a big children's paddling pool and fills it with sand. You have the time of your life digging and rolling in it.
✷ A ridiculous and prolonged benny hill chase scene in which Kit tries valiantly to put a modified dog harness and leash on you. It ends with Kit on the floor, a panting, exhausted heap, and both harness and leash shredded into satisfactorily tiny pieces. You trot over, sit on his back, and purr.
21
You pause briefly when you finally hear him stumble out of bed.
But then the song continues.
22
She has a free afternoon and she's spending it sampling food — lots and lots and lots of food — at a local diner. Which is great! Except for the television. They're airing a talk show, and today's topic of conversation is Prisma Knight and Unisonya … … with a particular focus on Unisonya. It is kind of uncomfortable in places.
✷ While the host consistently refers to Unisonya as she/her, one of the guests uses he/him, and several others call her "it".
✷ There are some clips of the battles Prisma Knight and Unisonya have fought. The Knight has costume changes when he switches between different elemental magics, and Unisonya primarily acts as support. How good the Knight is at fighting varies on the clip - in some he's halfway decent, and in others he's clearly struggling. There's stuff like sentient trash monsters, dinosaurs roaming city streets, and one or two brief shots of human "villains".
✷ An accredited zoologist talks excitedly about SCIENCE THINGS. PHENOTYPE. Wingspan! Her tail, with its hidden danger spikes! Her feathers! How amazing it is that she can fly! Her regenerative capabilities! How she moves! Wondering what she eats! Whether there are more of her species!
✷ One person suggests that she should be humanely captured and detained, for the safety of the public and so that they can gain a better understanding of where she came from, what she is, and what she can do. This sparks a whole ass argument about human rights (which some think shouldn't count in this instance because she isn't human, she's an animal and also possibly an alien or a secret government science experiment).
✷ There's a debate about the existence of magic. Some people are hold-outs, insisting that it can't be real, but most have accepted that it's a Thing.
✷ While the majority feel positively about the Knight and Unisonya — they are considered heroes — some definitely do Not, and are vocal about their opinion. It loops back around to the idea that Unisonya shouldn't be allowed to run wild and free, and the Prisma Knight's identity should be revealed to the public —
She is in serious danger of shattering the glass of water she's holding. Luckily, the pitter patter of approaching footsteps grabs her attention, and she turns to look with a bright, easy smile already in place. It's a gaggle of young kids, with someone who may be familiar standing close to them. An excited girl asks if she's Miya Truelove, and when Miya gives a cheerful, "That's me!" the girl Even More Excitedly asks if she can have an autograph please, she's a huge fan, wow, she can't believe she's getting to meet you in person…!
23
He's faster?? Stronger?? And he seems to anticipate her every move, countering and taunting her. Like, "Is that all you've got? Pathetic!" Y'know. The usual Midboss Villain shtick. Mostly she's just like, who the fuck even are you, holy shit.
She's trying to use magic (water, air, and fire) but it's so, so hard without Kit there. She starts falling back on pure, brutal instinct, on reflexes she didn't even know she had. She lands some vicious hits but for the most part, she's just looking for the chance to escape.
At one point he gets his chain whip fully around one of her wings, sending her crashing back down to Earth with a shriek of pain and fury, and he just laughs — "How does it feel, Champion? To be brought so low? I don't know about you, but I'm having the time of my life."
She's bleeding and exhausted, shaking all over. In one final fit of desperation, she gathers every scrap of strength she has left and — dodging around a devastating Lightning Attack — basically rips a hole in reality, throwing herself through.
And then she's falling.
Falling, falling, falling through a kaleidoscope of color and darkness, a fractured blur of fractals, tilting, whirling, spinning, rushing, until everything fades to black.
24
… And to say that you panic would be putting it lightly.
Trapped. Completely, utterly trapped. A cage of cruel metal straps bite into your feathers, pinning your wings tight to your body. Your legs, your tail … you can't lift your head, or open your jaw. You've been muzzled so thoroughly you can't get your mouth open, and there's something over your eyes. You think you might be in some kind of vehicle — and it has to be a big one, to hold you at your full size.
You try to thrash. It gets you nowhere. You try to call upon your magic. It doesn't answer.
You can't breathe.
You barely recognise the sounds you're making.
"It's awake!" … But you do recognise the sound of human voices around you, through the veil of rage and fear and terror and no no no no. A hand pets your flank, fingers combing through feathers. You jerk against your restraints, snarling thunderously. The hand flinches back … but not for long.
They laugh, exhilarated. "McKenzie, prep another sedative. The other one metabolised too quickly."
"On it!"
Footsteps. The hand trails up along your wings, its owner cooing over your plumage, the strength in your muscles. "I can't wait to get a proper look at you. You're a marvel — a real beauty." You want to curse them, or maybe just rip them apart limb by limb.
More footsteps — a different set, and the other voice returns. "This one should last us until we get it into the facility. Uh ..." The footsteps pause a few feet away.
"What, are you that much of a chicken?" The first voice is impatient, "It can't hurt you."
You're going to shred them-
"Who the fuck are you calling a chicken, dickhead-"
More hands. You feel a cold, sharp stab as you're injected and struggle harder than ever, hard enough that it hurts, until the sedative takes hold and drags you under.
25
You, Kit, and his brother Ryouta have all piled onto Kit's couch. You're all wearing pyjamas, you're all holding a mug of freshly brewed tea, and you're all exhausted.
"So," you say, calmly, like you're not a tightly wound bundle of rage and relief and trauma, or about to ask a question like — "Hands up if I can eat your parents?"
Ryou's hand shoots up.
Kit's a little more hesitant. You can tell because he puts his head in his hands and says, "Hnnnghhh."
You take a long sip of tea, staring across at the flames flickering in the fireplace.
"Mmmmmnnnnnn," says Kit, very eloquently.
"You make a compelling argument," says Ryou, "But have you considered: fuck 'em, they deserve it?"
You're inclined to agree. Heartily. You'd be doing a public service. (And also a crime. And also a PR nightmare. And also they are Kit and Ryou's parents. Thinking it through instead of reacting on gut instinct was (unfortunately) a Good Decision and you are proud of yourself.)
"... I don't know." Kit looks sidelong at his brother, lifting a hand to forestall a protest; Ryou frowns but keeps his mouth shut. "I want to say yes. They should pay for what they've done. But killing them feels … I don't know."
"If it helps," you put in, "I'd be the one doing the killing."
"It doesn't, actually." He hunches forward, elbows resting on his knees, and frowns into his mug. There's another long 'hnnnnngh' before he adds, "I'm not opposed to them being dead. It's the part where I'd be giving you approval to murder them that doesn't sit right."
You incline your head. "Right. Well. I'll respect that." For Kit's sake. For Kit's sake, you guess you can hold back. He smiles faintly at you. Both of you ignore Ryou's groan of disappointment.
Time ticks away in silence — well, sort of silence. Your hearing is very good, and Kit's 'I am thinking too hard and it is giving me a headache and possibly also indigestion' grumbling is very loud.
Finally, he breaks the silence. "What about imprisonment?"
Ryou barks a laugh, "Yes! Imprisoned in a dragon's stomach, glad we agree—"
The memory ends with Kit shoving his brother unceremoniously off the couch, tea and all.
26
Also? Somebody just shot you in the leg with a sedative dart.
Rude.
… But.
While you stagger, and collapse into a heap of feathers and immense displeasure … you don't pass out. You're awake. Fuzzy, yeah, and hazy, and that's not your favourite feeling in the world, but you're awake you're awake you're awake.
You're awake to listen to the door open.
Awake to listen to a group of humans trudge towards you. Eight of them, most chattering. They're scientists, interns. One guard, it sounds like. They call you "it" and "the subject" and they're here to take samples of your blood. One is complaining about the broken coffee machine in the break room. Two are murmuring together about how wild it is to be so close to a dragon, wow, it's kind of scary, right — nah, mate, it's tame, it won't hurt humans, haven't you seen the videos?
It's the owner of that last voice that says, laughing, Watch, I'm gonna take a selfie with it.
That leans against your shoulder.
That dies first, when you swing your head around and bite.
What happens from there is a whirlwind of blood, shouting, screaming, chaos. It's brutal. You are brutal - and efficient. It doesn't take much to kill a human, and you, you have always been very, very good at killing just about anything you put your mind to.
Two get away, in the end. Both bloody, one with a leg torn off, the other shooting at you as they retreat — which, ow, bullets are small but they hurt, and you reel back with a snarl as one lucky shot gouges through too close to your eye. Alarms are blaring now, lights flashing, more guns —
And that's where the memory fades.
27
You, on the other hand, are just chillin' on a rock in denim short shorts and a cropped hoodie. There's a picnic basket next to you, and a sandwich in your hand. You gesture with the sandwich, "You can do it, Kit! It's not that much different from fire. You've just gotta reach out and shape it —"
"Reach out how?" Kit sounds like a deflated balloon. He kinda looks like a deflated balloon. "Shape it how? At least fire has the wand as a conduit." He turns to look back at the water, takes a deep breath,, and stretches out a hand, "Reeeeeeeeeeeach …"
You watch, hopeful.
Nothing happens.
"Reeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaach."
Nothing happens.
"...Reach?"
He tries flicking his hand, but nothing continues to happens. After a few more attempts Kit sighs and falls backwards into the sand with a soft whump. You slide off your rock and go to pat him on the head.
"Reaching didn't work out?"
"Reaching very much did not work out."
He sighs, furrowing his brow and you can see the gears turning in his brain as he tries to puzzle out something that really should not be this hard? You don't know how much more clearly you can explain it, and so you simply continue to pet him.
"What do you feel when you reach out?" He eventually asks. "Are you picturing the water doing anything, are you… vibing with the currents or something?"
"Uhh. Hm." Pat, pat. "Yyyyes? Yeah. Vibe with the currents! Like this, watch." You stretch out a hand — you don't have to, but maybe it'll help him get it? — and call upon the water. A thin tendril rises from the waves and twists itself into the shape of a thumbs up. "Just like that."
Rising from the sand, Kit raises his hand again. He's watching you in an attempt to mimic your movements, yet despite both your best efforts he doesn't seem to understand any better. He doesn't give up, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, forcibly relaxing his tensed shoulders. A calmness settles over him, a moment of peaceful serenity that is very swiftly cut short when he digs his heels into the sand, opens his eyes and thrusts his hand out with sudden force.
The waves ignore him as they have done all afternoon.
"Perhaps I need proximity to properly vibe with the currents."
Kit says, completely deadpan, before walking forward and throwing himself straight in the ocean.
28
The kids basically invite themselves to sit at her table while she's signing the little girl's — Amy's — notebook. They pepper her with questions like, why is she in London (she's going to the expo, which gets a round of excited gasps because WOW THEY'RE GOING TOO), what perfume she's wearing (it's a secret, if they keep watching her videos they might find out), what her favourite food is and gosh, has she tried the strawberry sundae they make here, it's amazing — (she has too many favourite foods to name but no, she hasn't tried the sundae yet, but now that she knows how good it is she definitely will, actually she'll order right now, who else wants one?)
That one red-headed kid, Leo, listens more than he talks. Something about him subtly prickles at Miya's senses, but like. Very subtly.
BUT THEN
LESS SUBTLE
… Is some big guy in a costume bursting in through the door, waving a whole-ass broadsword around like he means to use it. The costume is black spandex and armour and it looks like a lot of work has gone into it! It's very well made! He dramatically announces that he is THE SHADOW KNIGHT and he wants everybody's money and valuables!! Right now!! Don't try to stop him, he's ~more powerful than any of them could ever imagine~.
There's panic and screaming, because of course there is. The kids with her are alarmed but they're also puffing up bravely, like they're thinking of trying to do something about this.
So Miya just … gets up … and clears her throat, "Hi."
The ??? villain ??? spins around to face her, sword at the ready, "Don't even think about — wait, aren't you —"
She smiles. Waves.
And casually knocks the sword aside with the back of her hand, steps in, and punches him in the gut, all in one smooth movement. He goes down like a sack of potatoes. The diner —which seemed to have been holding its breath — erupts into noise, people shouting and talking over each other. She can hear Amy call the police.
People are shocked, they thought he'd been Anomalized! Was he a fake?!
Meanwhile she sits on the guy's back, cross-legged, and pulls his mask off. "Yeah. He was a fake." Which she'd had a Strong Feeling About from the beginning, but still. Huh. Fake villains. That's a new one.
The memory ends with the police arriving to take the guy away, sword and all, and the manager on shift thanking her profusely. She's casual about it, saying it was no big deal, but she doesn't protest when the manager declares that the sundaes — all six of them, and the rest of her bill — are on the house.
29 | Private
30 | Private
31 | Free
32
You can't see yourself, because you don't exist — just like everything (nothing) else.
But then. But then, you start to sing! Because fuck this, actually! One song becomes another becomes another, becomes wordless and ethereal, a symphony of one weaving the music of life, of creation, of the finite and the infinite, until the space sings with power; the sheer force of it crackles in the air around you.
The void has blossomed into a liminal infinity, and you are the star at the centre of it all.
33
A touch, tentative, barely brushing your wing.
"-nya-"
You're —
… Pinning a familiar kid by his throat.. Seeing yourself reflected in wide green eyes. He says your name again, quiet, tight — Unisonya — and you wrench yourself away, stumbling, wavering, half collapsing, and you snarl a wordless warning when he picks himself up in your periphery.
It's hard to focus on him. It's hard to hear him. He keeps his distance, keeps his hands where you can see them. You want to laugh, because he has no idea …
He wants you to follow him, so he can help. You think that's what he's saying, anyway. You summon what little power you can and shrink yourself down to the size of a great dane — less conspicuous than a dragon the size of a horse, more than big enough to be a threat if you need to be — and —
Oh.
You passed out again.
You find your feet. Again. Snarl, again, when you think he might get too close, but when he backs off you force yourself to follow, one paw in front of the other, across the playing field you crash-landed in and to a ??? hidden bedroom ??? accessed through the school gym's storage room. There are secret panels and codes but you're too out of it to focus like you should, and before long you find yourself fading again.
34
✷ instead she spots this kid c…limbing into a painting…? Like the painting is a portal. The painting is ABSOLUTELY A PORTAL to ??? who even knows where! uh oh oh yikes oh geez, okay
✷ she climbs in after him!
✷ and suddenly both she and the kid are standing in another world! It's fantastical and colourful, with three moons and binary suns. wild. The kid was staring around himself with his jaw dropped, but he quickly notices Miya and turns to face her, asking what she's doing there, why did she follow him?
✷ To which she responds, uhh, because I just saw a kid climbing into a magical painting portal in the middle of the night? She asks why he did that, and after a pause he explains that his friends are missing; they went out to get snacks from the vending machine and never came back, and when he went out to look for them he noticed the surface of the painting ripple.
✷ The memory ends with her saying, "Whew. Wow. Weeeeell, okidokie, then! I'll help you look."
35
✷ Jolting awake from a nightmare in her own bed, in human form. It's very, very early morning. She takes some deep breaths, and transforms into a cat-sized dragon to pad quietly to Kit's room and clamber up into his bed. He only kinda wakes up, mumbling groggily and snuggling in close. She falls back asleep curled against his chest.
✷ Kissing Kit on the cheek as they both rush off in the morning; him to his shift at the hospital, and her a modelling shoot at a park in the city. It's a good fun time and everyone at the shoot is friendly and happy to be there! Her human act around these people is impeccable.
✷ UH OH SUDDENLY A ??? DRAGON ??? drops down from the sky to RAZE THE CITY. It's a big ol' black lizard-y wyvern-type with lots of scales, spikes and fiery breath, and a red glow where its heart is. Everyone cries out, OH SHIT IT'S AN ANOMALY, RUN. All of the normies flee for cover; Miya pretends to, but she actually just ducks away to transform into her ""hero"" guise: Unisonya the dragon!
The Prisma Knight — another hero — appears shortly afterwards. They work together to draw the wyvern away from the city proper and do battle against it. It's very dramatic and high-octane, and while the Knight still isn't a super fantastic badass fighter by any means, he's better than he used to be. They realise that its heart is a Feather and do a fancy combination magic attack targeting it directly. It takes a few hits, but then ...
The red glow cracks; the dragon dissolves into ethereal sparkles; and all that's left is a fancy-looking mystical crystalline feather, glowing brightly. The Knight touches it with his sword, the glow gets even brighter … and suddenly both the glow and the feather vanish without a trace. A crowd of hundreds of spectators cheer. News reporters are there, too, including a couple of helicopters. Unisonya offers a cheerful apology, sorry we can't stay to chat this afternoon!
And the heroes just. Vanish, leaving the crowd in awe. Which they can both see because they're just invisible lol. They quietly skedaddle out of there to detransform in privacy.
✷ The rest of the shoot is postponed until the next day. Miya rushes home to her recording studio (aka their garage conversion) for a LIVESTREAM where she plays a team-based battle royale game … except then her viewers challenge her to SING THROUGH IT so now it's a musical battle royale. It's very very silly and her singing is amazing, even when she switches out the actual lyrics for commentary about the game.
✷ After the stream, she does some video editing, then films a workout routine vlog that was apparently the most highly requested video for two months in a row. And then she has a lot of boring telephone calls with her modelling agency about modelling things. It's busy. She's busy.
✷ On the way to meet up with Kit for dinner, she: catches a runaway dog and reunites it with its owner, saves an old lady from being hit by a car, and drops a wannabe mugger in the river. Dinner is fish and chips on a park bench and it's delicious.
TIMESKIP TO LATE EVENING
✷ Miya — still in her human form — and Kit are at a remote beach somewhere, and they're not alone! There's Kit's brother Ryou, a teenager called Robyn, AKA the hero Papillon; an even younger teenager called Leo; a very normal-looking woman in her mid-twenties called Charlie, who brought sandwiches and refreshments for everybody; this guy, named Nil; and an extremely handsome tiefling-esque space elf with cute lil curved horns, a tail startlingly similar to Miya's own except lavender, and a pair of small wings … everyone calls him Zyl or Zylneiros, except Nil, who mockingly calls him My Prince.
They're here to do COMBAT TRAINING — the threat posed by "The Witch and her Generals" is growing by the day, and they need to be prepared. They start with Robyn eagerly demanding to spar with Miya, which she agrees to go along with. Miya is the easy victor and she is very careful and gentle ok.
Leo is working with Robyn to correct her martial arts form; Zyl and Kit pair up to spar with swords and talk about how Kit can best make use of the different elemental magics he wields; Ryou and Charlie eat sandwiches and argue about when it is and isn't okay to punch people in a colourful variety of ways. Charlie is kind of a goody two-shoes but accepts that sometimes you have to defend yourself or others ... very, very, very carefully-
Leaving Miya and Nil standing twelve feet apart, both a little tense, a little still, their postures a mirror of each other. WHEW BOY. The spar starts off kinda slow, kinda tentative, with some banter — but then he teasingly calls her "Champion" and both of them stop holding back at all. IT'S. KINDA BRUTAL!! And though it seems for a second like Miya might lose, she turns the tables. When he's the one on the ground, his the tip of his own blade resting against his throat, she says, very evenly, "Don't call me that."
… But then she throws the sword off to the side and offers him a hand up, which he grumbles about but accepts. It's … probably fine?
✷ They all have a sunset picnic of sandwiches and chocolate bars, and then, one at a time, hop into a hole in reality to go home. Kit and Miya are the last, and the memory ends with them both flopping on top of his bed, fully clothed and exhausted.
Notes
- There are some fairly distinct differences in her voice, tone, and body language depending on who she's interacting with! They're all English and speaking English but if they were an anime:
She'd use boku with Kit or the hero team... except with Nil! With him she'd use ore. As the dragon hero Unisonya she'd use watashi, and as the YouTuber she'd use atashi. This is very stupid and I'm sorry.
Basically she presents herself very differently depending on her audience at any given moment.