kingdomcomes | The time has come

Who: Estinien, Aymeric, and YOU!
What: Partially open; Estinien is around town as a half dragon, then he seeks Aymeric for the cure.
Where: Around town for the open part, the guard barracks for the closed part.
When: Evening
Warnings: Probably sex. Also, Estinien is half dragon??

Open to all:

[Estinien had originally hoped that the threat of slowly turning into Nidhogg was naught more than the bluffing of a deranged woman who could not handle his defiance. For the first couple days, it seemed to be the truth--but it took less than a quarter moon for the first signs to appear.

Try as he may to reverse the effects--avoiding the solution the Mistress offered him--he met naught but failure, despite what promises the town's alchemist gave him. Failure that has lead the dragoon to acquiring not only a tail and wings, but scales slowly consuming the expanse of his body, some adorning his chin and cheeks as if he were an Au Ra, and not an elezen.

Claws for hands and feet, he found himself budding four horns that protruded from his face in a manner not unlike a cone of shame. He could be seen around town, avoiding people as much as possible, zipping around corners to try and lose any who might attempt to tail him.

He's quite the sight to say the least, even more so when he attempts to leap away at the first sight of someone approaching him from the front--his horrid appearance was not one he wished to bear to any, and if he could avoid the attention, doubtlessly he would.

Jumping is something he is highly familiar with--after all, dragoons use jumping to dispatch dragons of their lives, it's their bread and butter in terms of fighting. What he isn't familiar with is how the wings offer a considerate amount of drag, and thus throw off the trajectory of his jump. Atop the roof he aims, but right into the second story window he lands.

Face first, and through the glass. A sorry display if there ever was one.]

Closed to Aymeric:

[After his humiliating run in with those around town, he's decided to give in ere he becomes Nidhogg himself. Slinking around the barracks as he can, avoiding what guards might be around, he finds Aymeric as quickly as he's able.

A feat that might have been easier through the journal, but he cannot entertain the idea of writing with these hands. He hopes Aymeric will aid him--he cannot begrudge him if he wouldn't. Not many Ishgardians would wish to bed a half dragon, after all.]

Aymeric. 'Twould seem the Mistress' word is far more good than I had hoped. I fear I need your assistance if I am to shed this horrid display.

[Help him Aymeric, he done cosplaying Nidhogg...]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Yenh sees him soaring through the air and through the window with all the majesty of a thrown brick. Her ears fold back to brace against the sharp sound of shattering glass. Ouch. Even if she presumes he wants to be alone, she really can't let him—knowing what she does and what he doesn't, she can't imagine this is easy for him. And also, he might be injured physically, which is less terrible for him probably, but still concerning. ]

[ And that is why Yenh hurries into this building and up the stairs, quickly tracking the dragoon. ]

Estinien? Are you hurt?

[When Yenh happens upon Estinien, he's still stuck in the window. A wing didn't quite make it through, and the broken glass was proving an annoying obstacle. There's certainly a splash of red along the shards of the window, but fortunately it seems rather mild--the scales offering him protection for the most part.

He looks to Yenh with an expression twisted with annoyance and humiliation, and he releases a low growl of exasperation.]

I have suffered worse wounds.

[a beat.]

... Would that I could say the same for my pride...

[Another fruitless attempt at freeing himself from the window inspires a begruded plea:]

Pray assist me, Warrior of Light.

[No comment will be made. Even if it was only the matter of bruising his ego, she wouldn't. But it's impossible to forget how Estinien was warped by the true shade of Nidhogg. Even if, some extremely dark part of her notes, the Mistress' take on the two is a ridiculously aesthetically pleasing one.]

[Yenh crosses to the window and begins puzzling out the way the glass and moulding have trapped him. She lays a hand on the wing's wrist.]

Can you feel them? Your wings.

Aye. 'Tis not a mere illusion. They are as much flesh and blood as any part of me.

[With uncharacteristic patience, he waits to attempt to free himself more. Wanting to look no more like a fool than he already does, he much rather Yenh take the lead. She could see his predicament with far greater perspective than him, after all.]

[Yenh was ready to tighten her grip on his wingwrist and Fight Him, for good or for ill, if he struggled. Fortunately, he does not; she merely uses it to guide him out ilm by ilm as she shifts the tangled shards of wood and glass.]

[It's careful work, but he's freed with only minimal new hurt. She draws her hand away so he can have his wing back.]

There.

[A sound leaves him—a mixture of relief and agitation. Dusting himself off and standing at his full height, he's quite the display. Unable to wear his drachen mail, he's taken to the guard uniform—if only because it accommodates the new appendages much too easily. The black wings sprouting from his back, scales adorning his body and face, the tail that curls just above the wooden floor... those imposing horns. He looks like a mock of Nidhogg in human form, and he hates every ilm of it.]

I thank you. However, I would much prefer to take leave of your presence. My pitiful form is not one I wish to inflict on any, least of all you.

[Alas, she's not turning to leave, even if there was part of her that said to. Instead, she kneels down to start very carefully gathering the larger shards of glass. The leather gloves she wears certainly help, but she's not going to take any chances by just grabbing willy-nilly. She starts putting them in a neat little out-of-the-way pile.]

If you wish to leave, I'll not stop you—but if you're trying to protect my sensibilities, then you can put your concerns away.

You're still Estinien, no matter how you look.

[Estinien watches her, and for a moment he considers assisting. One quick quick glance at his clawed hands convinced him otherwise, however. He doubted he'd have an ample grip to pick up the shards, and his fumbling would merely make matters worse.]

Be that as it may...

[he pauses, because he's not entirely sure where he wants to go with that train of thought. Yenh is not Ishgardian, she did not live a life that ingrained horror and discussed at scalekin like he and Aymeric. It makes sense she is undaunted by his grotesque appearance, but he cannot help but feel he is doing her a disservice by inflicting himself upon her vision.]

...Regardless, I must needs find a cure for this, ere I become a true mock of Nidhogg himself. A horror that should never come to pass.

[Yenh is glad she's looking away, because the face she makes is one that Estinien probably shouldn't see. But then again, she's wondering if it would be better that he knows. That, though, she isn't sure.]

[She dusts her gloves off, then turns back to him.]

[What she wants to express is that what he feels is understandable, but it isn't what she feels. That she considers him a good ally and friend, and that things will decidedly get worse before they get better, and that they'll all see him through. That he can count on their support, no matter what happens, in the ways they're best able to.]

[This is what she says, instead, in a perfectly earnest and serious tone.]

If Aymeric is unable to aid you, then I'm confident I can. You need only say the word, my friend.

The time has come

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