Hanna, who had mostly gotten over Maurice's vicious burn after two days. And, despite how he had been working to get all the potions organized, he still wasn't ready yet to recolor himself, especially since he had discovered that the one that was responsible for the light pink of his soft spines was one of the potions that Maurice had thrown out. Of course.
Currently he was multitasking, stirring a potion with his tail while reading the recipe, not too terribly busy, but focused. He can tell when Maurice's gaze hovers though, and he lifts his eyes from the pages, curious. "Yes?"
The prince just stared back with that absent expression he'd had since his employment (at least when he wasn't busy fuming or pouting). He was tracing the shapes Hanna was made of with his eyes and repeating the word in his head. The way his neck curved coupled with both arches of his wings and the top-most point of his spines. It was an exact match.
"You look like a cathedral," he said, matter-of-factly.
Hannacross, dragon of small stature and humble horde, blinked at Maurice as if his words didn't register, little ears perked, until suddenly they were flat to his head, opening his mouth and then shutting it.
Well.
"T-thanks." If a dragon could blush, he'd be doing so right now.
"You do," he insisted. And then he went right back to copying down the label for...well, he didn't actually know what it was, as if he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. He just copied the unfamiliar symbols and thought it a shame that a creature that looked like a mobile temple would paint himself that color to avoid being hunted down.
Hanna, who wasn't sure what else to say, kind of hunched over his book a little more, embarrassed and wondering how long it had taken Maurice to come up with that line. It was a little cheesy, sure but man. He knew how to sweet talk a dragon when he really put his mind to it.
He was quiet from then on, stewing over the comment and what he should do about it. Something nice probably.
Satisfied that he'd patched up his blunder from the other day, Maurice worked away at the labels until they were done. He slapped the quill down on the table and tugged his gloves off. With a groan, he flexed his fingers and winced.
"My hands...may I please do something else tomorrow? The scrolls will get written, I promise."
Hanna glances over at him again, curious. He supposed he got cramps in his tail and claws when he wrote too much, and it was obvious Maurice wasn't used to this kind of work.
He considers the question, trying to figure out something he could do, when he remembered a task he hadn't gotten too quite yet. "You could go into town and get me some herbs and things for my garden! I want to start it again...I could give you a list?"
His eyes flicked to the mouth of the cave where, just beyond, he knew there was nothing but a heap of ashes. It was sort of his fault, but he wouldn't let himself feel too badly about it. He was getting pretty tired of feeling badly about a lot of things. Hanna had assumed him he was already better than the rest of the royal family.
"Yes. I will fetch them."
AND FETCH THEM HE WOULD and it was not long before Maurice found himself in town again and regretting everything because it was high noon and everything stank. His boots and Sally's legs were muddy again before he even found the nursery stall. He hoped that Hanna hadn't put the same illusion on him as he had previously because he really didn't want the oil salesman to recognize him. Something else caught his attention first though. A small crowd was gathered around a poster on the side of the auction house. Maurice couldn't help himself and led his horse over.
There it was on the wall in parchment--his own obituary. A sketched portrait of himself (naturally thinner and more regal looking, as was the tradition of drawing royalty) stared back at him with a dashing smile. He momentarily forgot about his quest to find sprouts.
Maurice remained in front of the poster long after the little group had left.
Like before, Hanna had followed shortly after his apprentice, his colors much different now that he was no longer painted in such hideous browns and oranges. His cloak was white, which stained easily black and browns at the end, but he didn't care much. The wet and the mud he walked on felt good between his toes, and he enjoyed the walk to town more than he usually would.
He doesn't find Maurice in quite the same situation though, still he was in a crowd, but at the very least not an angry one. He sticks to the sides, hood up, but when they start to clear, he stays, more watching the prince than the poster on the wall.
"Never thought you would see your own obituary, did you?" He's still concealed, at the very least trying to be gentle. He hadn't thought it would take this short of time for it to be released.
Maurice did hear the man approach and due to the little emotional storm inside him, he was all ready to snap at him. No, weird hobo man, his horse is NOT for sale! But that isn't what he asked and Maurice finally broke his staring match with his self to blink down at the robed man.
"What...?" That didn't make sense. The prince tilted his head and something clicked. "I've seen you before." It's that WEIRD GUY. Sayin' WEIRD STUFF. "Did you know anything about--the prince?"
Hanna shakes his head under the cloak, "I didn't know anything about him until after he died, actually. Like most people." He smiles, a flash of sharp teeth if Maurice looks closely enough, "But it's after death that most remember the good things you've done. I think, this way, he can live in the way he wants, in a good light, and enjoy life without being looked at like a figure, but as a person instead."
The words, if one didn't think the Prince was still alive, made little sense. "What do you think?"
Maurice wrinkled his nose. Something about this man was bugging him and some tiny voice inside him was telling him to beware. "If he even did good things." He tightened his grip on Sally's reins. "It says he was burned to ashes battling a dragon. If you ask me, he got exactly what he deserved."
Hanna, who won't have Maurice talking about himself in such a way, throws back his hood and raises a brow at him, his eyes bright and reflective in the light, "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, my lord."
His smile reveals more of his teeth, "You have so much more to live for and discover."
When the mysterious wizard threw his hood back, Maurice was launched through a series of three overpowering emotions.
Confusion. Why was he talking like that, why did he sound like that, WHY DID HE LOOK LIKE THAT?
Horror. The curls, the sharp line of his chin, that grin. Surely the way his heart was trying to crawl out of his mouth meant that he was horrified. Right?
And finally.
"YOU!" Maurice bellowed, turning a few heads. Sally didn't even flick an ear. The prince curled his fingers into claws and towered over the mage. "You--you-- it was you! It was you the whole--it was YOU!" He glared at Hanna's hands and looked like he was ready to breathe fire himself. "YOU HAVE HANDS!"
Hanna couldn't help it. He laughed, and laughed hard. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all. "Yes, I have hands." He takes a step closer, not at all afraid of the much bigger man, knowing that it would only take a second to tower over him again. He leans even closer afterward, standing on his tip toes so he can speak in a whisper, "In this shape anyways."
And while he had hands in this shape, it wasn't like he wanted to stay in it always. It felt cramped, small and uncomfortable, even if he could move around in it like a second skin after years of practice. "it's not my favorite, but it helps business."
"NnnNNNNNGGGHHHHHHHH!" It was a sort of weird, strangled, internal sound as Maurice shook from anger. And then, just as it had many times before, his temper extinguished itself. He suddenly looked very very exhausted and leaned against the auction house wall.
"It was you the whole time...why'd you follow me? Why'd you--UGH! You saw the altercation with the oil salesman!" And he'd played like he didn't know a thing at dinner. Slithery serpent! He hugged himself and felt stupid. He also couldn't stop stealing glances at the dragon in disguise's grinning face. It was a...very good disguise. No doubt crafted all on his own.
Considering the space they were in, Maurice wondered if it was different from the false dragon he'd made to scare away the guards. The prince cautiously reached out to touch Hanna's shoulder to see if he was really there.
"I came to make sure you didn't get in trouble, and that you behaved," He returned, knowing that he might get offended, but telling the truth anyways, "Most people would follow after a new hire if they gave them money, don't you think? It was just a security measure, that and I wanted to see how you did on your own." Which translated more of just looking out for Maurice, but he doubted he young man would see it as such. "It's not often royalty has to interact with the common folk, though I could say you did just fine."
When Maurice goes to touch him though, his hand makes a solid connection, Hanna continuing to smile back him, a knowing look in his reflective eyes. "This isn't an illusion. I've shape shifted, and while it isn't perfect, it works." Though he doubts that Maurice would understand 'my essence feels cramped', but that's alright.
Hanna raises an eyebrow, "Yes? But that's your job. You're my apprentice, aren't you?" He pushes Maurice's hand away after quite a few jabs though, some irritation slipping in.
His skin wasn't thick and hard in this form, and he bruised easy, "I have human skin, you're starting to hurt me."
The prince was at the very least smart enough not to start prodding him again. Physically.
"But that doesn't make sense! Your scrolls were atrocious! Why didn't you write them in this shape to begin with?" He dragged his hands down his face. "Never mind!" It was probably some stupid DRAGON REASON. He pushed away from the wall and gazed back up at the poster of himself. His angry pout grew more solemn.
"But...you were right. I never thought I'd see an article on my own death. I never imagined news traveling this quickly beyond your mountain. Hanna, I'm afraid this might have been a mistake. What if she's planning something? You won't be safe!"
He said, to the dragon that blended in to human society without effort on a regular basis. Somehow it hadn't occurred to Maurice that several people in his home town very well may have been dragons. Hidden and forgotten and glad of it.
"That's rude. My hand writing is just fine, and I can read it." He crosses his arms and considers Maurice, shrugging. "I'm not afraid of your mother. If I have to move, then I have to move, but I'm not dying." He's too stubborn and smart for that.
And while he is in love with his horde, his life is more important and he could give it up if it came to that. "I can hide where I want to. It's all too easy."
You should be, was what he wanted to say, but it wasn't a conversation to have in public. The prince sighed again.
"It would be hard to move a garden, wouldn't it?" He found himself feeling guilty for getting distracted instead of doing his errand. Maurice eyed the poster again before reaching up and carefully peeling it off the wall. "I'm taking this. It's a good portrait of me, don't you think?"
"A garden is more important than my life," He returns, quietly, pulling his cloak back up. He didn't often show his face off in town, liking more to be a memory of cloak and shadow, instead of bright eyes and sharp teeth. He was a wizard, but most did not have features like that.
He considers the poster before Maurice takes it, nodding, "It's very...flattering." Even if it wasn't entirely accurate, but he could appreciate it.
The dragon's statement made Maurice wonder. Were gardens sacred to dragons? It would explain why Hanna cried so bitterly at the destruction of his herbs for the prince's sake. He would ask another time. He finally accepted that he would never finish learning things about dragons as long as he worked under his new employer.
He carefully rolled up the paper and stuck one end of it into Sally's saddlebag. "They got the hair right and that's the most important part." He gave his own mane a toss, endlessly thankful for the soap and river he'd been provided with.
Hanna gives Maurice a good look over and nods, appreciatively. "You do seem to take pride in it, so I suppose it's good they did." In any case, Hanna follows along, barefooted, and heads towards the nursery, thinking that perhaps Maurice would like some help finding what he wanted.
"I realized that I had left some things off the list."
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theattic2014-11-09 08:06 pm
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Currently he was multitasking, stirring a potion with his tail while reading the recipe, not too terribly busy, but focused. He can tell when Maurice's gaze hovers though, and he lifts his eyes from the pages, curious. "Yes?"
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"You look like a cathedral," he said, matter-of-factly.
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Well.
"T-thanks." If a dragon could blush, he'd be doing so right now.
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He was quiet from then on, stewing over the comment and what he should do about it. Something nice probably.
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"My hands...may I please do something else tomorrow? The scrolls will get written, I promise."
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He considers the question, trying to figure out something he could do, when he remembered a task he hadn't gotten too quite yet. "You could go into town and get me some herbs and things for my garden! I want to start it again...I could give you a list?"
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His eyes flicked to the mouth of the cave where, just beyond, he knew there was nothing but a heap of ashes. It was sort of his fault, but he wouldn't let himself feel too badly about it. He was getting pretty tired of feeling badly about a lot of things. Hanna had assumed him he was already better than the rest of the royal family.
"Yes. I will fetch them."
AND FETCH THEM HE WOULD and it was not long before Maurice found himself in town again and regretting everything because it was high noon and everything stank. His boots and Sally's legs were muddy again before he even found the nursery stall. He hoped that Hanna hadn't put the same illusion on him as he had previously because he really didn't want the oil salesman to recognize him. Something else caught his attention first though. A small crowd was gathered around a poster on the side of the auction house. Maurice couldn't help himself and led his horse over.
There it was on the wall in parchment--his own obituary. A sketched portrait of himself (naturally thinner and more regal looking, as was the tradition of drawing royalty) stared back at him with a dashing smile. He momentarily forgot about his quest to find sprouts.
Maurice remained in front of the poster long after the little group had left.
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He doesn't find Maurice in quite the same situation though, still he was in a crowd, but at the very least not an angry one. He sticks to the sides, hood up, but when they start to clear, he stays, more watching the prince than the poster on the wall.
"Never thought you would see your own obituary, did you?" He's still concealed, at the very least trying to be gentle. He hadn't thought it would take this short of time for it to be released.
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"What...?" That didn't make sense. The prince tilted his head and something clicked. "I've seen you before." It's that WEIRD GUY. Sayin' WEIRD STUFF. "Did you know anything about--the prince?"
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The words, if one didn't think the Prince was still alive, made little sense. "What do you think?"
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His smile reveals more of his teeth, "You have so much more to live for and discover."
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Confusion. Why was he talking like that, why did he sound like that, WHY DID HE LOOK LIKE THAT?
Horror. The curls, the sharp line of his chin, that grin. Surely the way his heart was trying to crawl out of his mouth meant that he was horrified. Right?
And finally.
"YOU!" Maurice bellowed, turning a few heads. Sally didn't even flick an ear. The prince curled his fingers into claws and towered over the mage. "You--you-- it was you! It was you the whole--it was YOU!" He glared at Hanna's hands and looked like he was ready to breathe fire himself. "YOU HAVE HANDS!"
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And while he had hands in this shape, it wasn't like he wanted to stay in it always. It felt cramped, small and uncomfortable, even if he could move around in it like a second skin after years of practice. "it's not my favorite, but it helps business."
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"It was you the whole time...why'd you follow me? Why'd you--UGH! You saw the altercation with the oil salesman!" And he'd played like he didn't know a thing at dinner. Slithery serpent! He hugged himself and felt stupid. He also couldn't stop stealing glances at the dragon in disguise's grinning face. It was a...very good disguise. No doubt crafted all on his own.
Considering the space they were in, Maurice wondered if it was different from the false dragon he'd made to scare away the guards. The prince cautiously reached out to touch Hanna's shoulder to see if he was really there.
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When Maurice goes to touch him though, his hand makes a solid connection, Hanna continuing to smile back him, a knowing look in his reflective eyes. "This isn't an illusion. I've shape shifted, and while it isn't perfect, it works." Though he doubts that Maurice would understand 'my essence feels cramped', but that's alright.
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He was busy tapping Hanna's shoulder again and again, his face a mixture of puzzlement and awe. Just where did the dragon's abilities end?
"Looks perfect to me." Jab jab jab. "Perfect for writing your own scrolls."
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His skin wasn't thick and hard in this form, and he bruised easy, "I have human skin, you're starting to hurt me."
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"But that doesn't make sense! Your scrolls were atrocious! Why didn't you write them in this shape to begin with?" He dragged his hands down his face. "Never mind!" It was probably some stupid DRAGON REASON. He pushed away from the wall and gazed back up at the poster of himself. His angry pout grew more solemn.
"But...you were right. I never thought I'd see an article on my own death. I never imagined news traveling this quickly beyond your mountain. Hanna, I'm afraid this might have been a mistake. What if she's planning something? You won't be safe!"
He said, to the dragon that blended in to human society without effort on a regular basis. Somehow it hadn't occurred to Maurice that several people in his home town very well may have been dragons. Hidden and forgotten and glad of it.
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And while he is in love with his horde, his life is more important and he could give it up if it came to that. "I can hide where I want to. It's all too easy."
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"It would be hard to move a garden, wouldn't it?" He found himself feeling guilty for getting distracted instead of doing his errand. Maurice eyed the poster again before reaching up and carefully peeling it off the wall. "I'm taking this. It's a good portrait of me, don't you think?"
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He considers the poster before Maurice takes it, nodding, "It's very...flattering." Even if it wasn't entirely accurate, but he could appreciate it.
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He carefully rolled up the paper and stuck one end of it into Sally's saddlebag. "They got the hair right and that's the most important part." He gave his own mane a toss, endlessly thankful for the soap and river he'd been provided with.
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"I realized that I had left some things off the list."
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