lazybox | [Dragon AU] Once more into the breach

[Dragon AU] Once more into the breach

Military work. An obligation to any dragon who wanted to live peacefully - to have even a chance of living to old age. Most humans regarded it as a way for adolescent dragons to burn off their hormonal urges relatively safely, especially the males.

The dragons themselves knew that the reality was a bit more complicated. Young dragons had a need to claim territory, but with their own populations dwindling and human populations surging, there was very little territory left they could claim. And with most matings chosen by genetic matches, there wasn't a need to impress potential mates anyway.

So they sent their young to defend human territory instead. It had the side benefit of making the humans think they were tamed, safely under control, and so it protected their kind as a whole. Human technology, quick to develop, could easily spell the end of dragons entirely if their kind was seen as a threat, instead of allies.

By the time they hit puberty, most dragons knew this. It didn't mean they didn't chafe under it, especially those with more stubborn and independent personalities. The dragon seated in a human chair, trying to ignore how his shoulders itched under the shape-changing magic, was a particularly magnificent example of that.

The flight commander's office was small, especially for a facility designed to accommodate dragons, and even though his human shape fit inside perfectly well, Asch couldn't help but feel caged in. Part of it, he knew, was the lack of windows, which itched at him more than it would even most other dragons. Claustrophobia and large creatures didn't get along well.

Military dragons were appointed flight partners for their term of service; sometimes it was more than one, depending on how lucky the human was. Dragons could restore themselves with magic and recover from injury much better than their human counterparts - a benefit to shapeshifting, certainly - but sharing that healing outside of a pair bond was difficult. And true bonds were rare these days.

All the better, as far as Asch was concerned. He wanted this section of his life over with as quickly as possible. Not that he hated humans - just the opposite. He found them endlessly entertaining and innovative... Outside of the rigid structure of the military.

Inside of it, well, he'd already had a face-off with the commander about the length of his human form's hair. The bright crimson, at least, had gone un-commented-on, as many humans knew that bold colorations were critical points of pride, but being forced to keep it short as well...

Well, it simply wasn't happening. He was already going without his ornaments and usual loose clothes, not to mention going along with the polite cultural requirement of maintaining an entirely human form. For this, the first meeting with his assigned partner, he could manage polite, even if it chafed.

And did it ever chafe. Asch flicked his eyes up at the commander before returning his attention to his dull human-shape nails. He'd at least made a good impression by being early. And he was good at most of the actual tasks the military required of their dragons - a fast, strong flier who could easily bear a rider, skilled at magic, not afraid of violence. For his skill, they were willing to let some things slide.

But not everything. And one of the things they weren't going to slide on was 'no solo operations.'

He really hoped that whoever came through that door was tolerable, or the next couple of years were going to be hell.

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Soma seems content to eat in amicable silence for now, though he does keep stealing glances at Asch's emerging draconic traits. There's no judgment or anything negative in his looks, but rather a clear admiration that's respectful rather than uncomfortably fawning.

Once their meal is done and their trays turned in for washing, Soma glances at the time. "We've got just enough time to get to the tack station without rushing." Though he can't imagine dragons much enjoy wearing the saddle harnesses most of the time. Soma knows even the voluntary enlisters consider them symbols of servitude and ownership, even slavery. It makes him wish he could ride bareback at least, but without a safety harness there's a definite risk of falling off Asch's back.

Indeed, Asch doesn't look particularly excited about the prospect. "The one good thing about custom sizing is that nobody else will be there," he mutters, flicking his nails together absently. They're still a bit clawed. "I get enough shit for being an 'exotic fit' without being with the rest of them trying to be 'helpful.'"

Yeah, he's not terribly impressed with his fellows, though he is a bit surprised that Soma comes with him across the yard.He would have expected that the boy would want to go settle in his quarters instead; there's no actual call for him to come along for this (hopefully last) saddle fitting.

It's not that Soma wants to gawk at Asch's fitting. He's going along for support. Maybe talking to Asch will distract the dragon from any mental discomfort. He's also pretty sure the tack team will want to see how well he sits in the custom saddle as well, seeing as how he's relatively tall compared to Asch's human form. With having to shrink the saddle to accomodate the human form's smaller stature, Soma hopes it will still let him ride comfortably when unfolded into its full state.

The tack team isn't surprised at Soma accompanying Asch into the sprawling structure housing gear storage and a fitting area big enough for even the larger dragons. Practically speaking, Soma might want to be sure there's no embarrassing problems at orientation, or maybe he's just that curious to see Asch transform close up. Whatever Soma's reasons are for tagging along, it's none of their concern and they're not about to ask.

Soma turns in the fitting card he was issued, and once they match it to Asch's ID number, the crate with the custom saddle is wheeled out. While Soma signs forms, the saddle gets unpacked and held up to Asch's back for a quick eyeballed size check.

Asch, for his part, scans the ID attached to his jacket with a sigh and then shrugs the whole thing off, draping it over a hook that's hopefully intended for that purpose, and if not, oh well. He can't really be bothered to care. Once the eyeballing is done, he steps into the open area in the center of the room.

This, at least, feels better. Most of his clothes are just constructs of the magic, so they fade into his skin or outright become feathers as he starts to shift, arms raised above his head. His wings stretch upwards the same way as they appear, and then there's enough shifting in his legs that his weight falls forward and he has to catch himself on his forelegs. A few dragons are built such that they can stay bipedal easy, but he isn't one of them, certainly not while in the midst of a transformation. His tail swishes across the floor like a cat's, back and forth and annoyed as the last of his feathers grow back in.

Then, of course, he has to flop with his stomach to the ground so that the heavy saddle can actually be lifted up between his wings without too much trouble. Another of the few things being small is good for.

Soma is just finishing his signature on the last form as Asch starts to change. His pen trails off the end of his name as he stares with wide eyes, watching the crimson being transforming so close by. Asch is even more amazing up close than he was in the sky, so distant, all bright scales and soft-looking plumes.

The tack manager witnessing his signatures takes one look at Soma's rapt expression and snorts. "Weirdo," he mutters under his breath, but Soma barely registers the disdainful word.

As the tack team lifts the saddle onto Asch, some of his feathers are pinched the wrong way under it. Soma hustles over and, lifting the saddle with one hand, slips his hand under it to fix them. "You can't shove saddles into place on feathered types, you'll bend the plumes and rip them out. It hurts and it can cause infection. You guys should know that."

Normally, the tack team would give rookies shit for questioning their methods, but despite the looks they give Soma they back down without a word. Something about him keeps them in check to a degree....

Which is good, because Asch hisses slightly to emphasize that yes, the kid's words are right and correct. He shakes his shoulders a little under the saddle - not enough to jostle it completely off, but enough that the feathers slide mostly back into place. Much better.

The feathers don't just look soft, either; they definitely are soft under Soma's hand, with a faint but distinct feeling of natural oils. After a moment, he sighs and settles. At least whoever made the saddle knew what they were doing; the straps are thick enough that they won't easily slide between feathers and chafe, and there's very few metal buckles in places where they could get caught and pinched. Most of the actual attachments are either well up on the saddle itself or down past the point where the feathers transition into smooth, snakelike scales on Asch's lower torso and belly.

The attendants get a small puff of smoke as they reapproach, but Asch lets them start buckling the thing in place without further complaint, though his long neck swings so he can keep one eye on them.

Soma helps with the fasteners, smoothing down feathers here and there and adjusting padding where necessary. Once finished, he strokes Asch's neck until the final inspection by the team is done. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if that hurt, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

One of the team members gestures at the saddle as they all step away. "Hmph. Okay, fly-boy. Mount up and see how it feels."

Nodding, Soma steps into the stirrup and swings himself up onto Asch's back. He fits into the saddle with surprising comfort, and with the southerner's lesser bulk his legs aren't splayed out as much as with the standard size dragon represented in the simulator. "Feels good." He rocks a bit in the saddle, looking for pinch points and finding none. "Asch, can you flex your wings? I want to see how it feels for both of us with you mobile."

The apology gets a snort, and if Soma is paying enough attention, an eyeroll and a faint tip of Asch's snout towards the rest of the humans in the room. They're idiots, he didn't really expect anything different.

Once Soma is relatively settled, he starts with actually standing up, wings stretching only incidentally as he paces around the room a couple times. "Not bad," he says, magic pitching the words to Soma's ears only. Indeed, the words are a construction of magic entirely, not corresponding with any rumble of noise that Soma would be able to feel in his body. "Probably going to want to tighten that stomach strap another inch or two eventually, though."

The feeling of an actual dragon moving under him, all muscle and sinew, is incredible. How did they ever subjugate these majestic creatures? And the channeled speech is equally amazing, a private channel of communication meant only for the two of them. If only he could make his words for Asch's ears alone, too.

"Only if it won't cause you discomfort. The rest of the harness around your shoulders should keep it from rotating, though I do wonder if it could slip enough to pinch a wing." Soma sighs. "I know we're not cleared for flight until tomorrow, but do you want to walk to our new barracks like this, get a feel for everything that way?"

Asch's wings and shoulders go up and down in what is clearly a shrug, if a somewhat unusual one. "Just make sure to get my jacket, stupid ID badge and all."

He pads over so Soma can swipe it off the hook, taking some small pleasure in the way the tack team scatters out of his way. One of the smarter ones takes the opportunity to swing the saddlebags and weapons harness over the portion of the saddle behind Soma and get at least the side they can reach attached properly.

Soma grabs Asch's jacket, draping it across his lap. Then he twists in the saddle to reach the other side of the weapons harness and saddlebags, buckling them in place. He makes a mental note of the safety restraints, though for now they're not necessary. Satisfied, he nods to the tack team.

"Okay, we're all set. Time to take a walk." He rubs Asch's neck gently, a friendly gesture to encourage him.

Already the saddle is comfortably warm thanks to Asch's body heat, something Soma knows he'll appreciate when they're flying at higher altitudes. There should be a breathing mask with an oxygen micro-generator at their new barracks, something he needs to be sure to pack in the saddlebags before orientation in case of live altitude tolerance testing. The last thing he needs is to be unprepared for that test and pass out from lack of oxygen from pushing himself too hard.

"A walk is one way of putting it." A flick of his tail, and Asch heads out the larger doors in the tack hall, head held high (noteworthy, as most dragons have to duck the doorframe). The dragon barracks aren't that far away, really, just on the other side of the wide landing strip that's used for both dragon training and cargo planes.

The crest feathers on the back of his neck rise slightly once they're out the door. "You'd better hold on." He'll get about five seconds of warning before Asch sprints off down the strip, wings out just enough to give him enough lift to take some of the weight off his legs and increase his speed.

Soma holds onto the hand straps without question, pretty sure he knows what Asch is planning. Sure enough the dragon starts to run, and even with the warning it's startling how fast they're going right from the start.

"Whoa!" he shouts, but it's not a command to slow down or stop. Rather it's a fairly undignified whoop of joy, and though he has to duck to protect his eyes from the wind (since he lacks goggles at the moment) he's grinning broadly. "Faster, Asch! I can take it!"

Their commander comes out of his office at that moment, spotting dragon and rider sprinting across the base. "Dammit! Cruz, Fabre! You're not fucking snot-nosed kids, knock that shit off!" But the pair are already out of range and the man growls in irritation. If they weren't so skilled, he'd boot Cruz out of enlistment and send Asch to do manual labor. But they need every mounted pair they can get right now, so the top brass has told him to let some of their nonsense slide. It grates on his nerves but orders are orders.

It's something for his self control that he doesn't puff flame at the annoying commander as they pass by, but he does completely ignore the man's words. It's an easy run, just enough to satisfy his muscles with the added weight on his back, or at least it will be once he swings around the end of the field and back towards the barracks.

"Left coming up." He assumes that Soma at least knows to lean into it, but if not... Well. Asch isn't above using this as a little bit of a baseline test, either. The left in question is in fact a big, long U-turn, so it cuts his speed a good bit.

With top scores in the simulator, Soma knows just what to do. He leans into the turn perfectly, even bracing his left foot and almost locking the knee to keep from tilting too far. His grip on the straps never wavers. When Asch completes the turn and starts picking up speed again, he stands slightly in the stirrups and leans forward like a horse jockey so to avoid chafing himself in the saddle.

Really, the kid is a natural rider. He can't wait to fly tomorrow.

Indeed, and certain commanders might be regretting pairing the two already, from the disgusted posture of the man as Asch comes back across that end of the field. He doesn't stop, though, just slowing his pace as he turns between the buildings in the housing section of the base.

It's a short, casual walk over to where the dragons are housed, the building thankfully high-ceilinged and less oppressive than the human buildings. Asch goes down and around to the far entrance, away from where a few of Soma's fellow new riders are picking up luggage. "I'm all the way down at this end," he offers as he slows to a stop so Soma can jump off, "so I usually use the back entrance."

Soma dismounts almost reluctantly, taking a moment to stroke Asch's neck again once he's on the ground. "Fine by me, it's less furor that way." He knows it's because they're the misfits of the unit, but being left at the far end of the barracks promises to be quieter and maybe calmer without being surrounded by the larger dragons and their brash, cocky riders.

It's not that big a surprise to see his luggage on a cart just outside the back entrance. Of course they'd know where Soma and Asch would be stationed before Soma did. He's just surprised that his family's staff could be as efficient with serving him here as they were at home. At least he doesn't have to go to the pick-up area with the others, he's not in the mood to deal with his squad's crap. Nothing is going to ruin his happiness over finally meeting his partner.

Soma slides back the doors so Asch can enter the barracks, grabbing the cart before following the dragon. The S. Cruz/A. Fabre beside the entrance to their new quarters makes him swell a bit with pride as it sinks in further that he really is a rider now.

The shift back to human form is quick, as though Asch just wants to get it over with. At least his things are already inside, though he anticipates having to reorganize things a bit now. He leaves a good portion of his feathers visible, stopping the transformation just after his wings and tail vanish. The result leaves a partial crest trailing back from his strong widow's peak.

He gets the outer door for Soma and the cart, as well as the inner one that leads to his private quarters. It's a bit warmer and more humid inside than the rest of the base, in spite of the high ceiling. Ropes halfway lift a hammock from the open space on the floor intended for sleeping dragons, and there's a bundle of red feathers sitting on the desk in a detailed porcelain bottle. Other than that, the space isn't yet much personalized. Asch's own luggage is in two crates and an overlarge duffel on the far side of the hammock.

Soma pauses inside to take in the space, making a mental note of the feathers on the desk but not asking about them yet. He turns to the door leading off Asch's room, the one that opens into his personal space. Inside is a small dresser, a standing closet, and a cot. A door off the far wall leads to a tiny bathroom with a shower stall, sink, and toilet. Definitely far from what he grew up with, but nicer than what he had in the group barracks. He won't have to shower with the others and face their sidelong stares.

He wheels the cart into his room and starts unloading his things. The first box he picks up is long and narrow, and that gets placed on his cot. Casual clothes go in the dresser along with underthings, uniforms both combat and dress are hung in the closet. Everything he does is meticulous and efficient, and within ten minutes he has all of his possessions unpacked. He goes into his foot locker and takes out the oxygen mask, bringing that back into Asch's room.

He packs the mask into its saddlebag, then undoes the bags and weapons harnesses so he can load other necessities into them later. "Feel any chafing? I have some cream-oil an old rider taught me to make, good for irritated scales."

Edited 2016-11-23 19:27 (UTC)

While he's gone, Asch fiddles with buckles until the whole harness practically falls off his shoulders - once it's off, he rolls them experimentally before putting the thing on a series of hooks opposite the weapons stands for Soma.

By the time his partner comes back, he's also shed his shirt - dissolved into magic without a trace - and is checking over his feathers in the mirror. "No, but I wasn't in it for long either."

Having a human act so concerned about him is... weird. He ducks under one of the hanging ropes, working on navigating back towards his crates. His stuff will take a bit longer to organize.

Those feathers dazzle Soma. He's gawking a bit, though he stops before he Asch can notice (he hopes). The memory of their softness under his hand makes him wish he could touch them again, but that's likely too familiar an act considering they've just met. Regardless, he can't help being concerned over Asch's well-being. Even those who consider dragons to be little more than living military equipment still take fairly good care of them. For someone like Soma, who considers dragons to be their allies and friends, his number one priority is to ensure Asch is healthy and content.

"Ah... do you want some help? I don't really have anything left to do in my space."

"Not really. A lot of it is things you can't help with too much." He sits on one crate after checking the labels, in order to open the other, clawed hands doing the work of a crowbar. The lid he sets to the side, humming and tossing packing paper and bubble wrap into the corner.

Soon he frees what he's after - a little glass oil lamp, with blue fuel and runes around the base. It's clearly magical in some way. Another follows when he sets it on the ground, this one orange and somewhat larger. A third, purple and the smallest yet, is added, and it soon becomes clear that there's an entire rainbow set in the crate.

Rainbow... is that what Soma thinks it is? Though if it's something draconic, there's no reason to think it would be an exact copy of a human spiritual system. Still, he's curious enough to ask. "Is that something to represent chakra points?"

At least he knows enough about chakras to explain if Asch has no idea what he means.

He doesn't, really, but there's a headshake as he pulls the red one out (the largest) and has to pull a piece of the packing paper out from under the round shade. "You'll see soon enough. This is actually a small set, though."

Once they're all free, he pulls a clear glass rod from the crate as well and begins to light them in order, starting from the red and moving up to the pink. The flames are the color of the fuel in the base, and the glass of each shade chimes with a distinct note as he points the rod at them.

"Is it for meditation?"

There's something soothing about those chiming notes, almost reminiscent of Tibetan singing bowls. Between that and the colored lights, Soma is completely enthralled. He sits on the floor near Asch and the lamps, watching intensely. If his partner is sharing something as personal as a meditative device with him, then Soma is determined to not only appreciate the experience but also share something of his own in turn.

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