Post by Lone Dancer on Feb 3, 2022 1:03:32 GMT
Nur’s leather boots echoed across the stone bricks, the cacophony of the diseased ringing out in fits of coughing and wheezing rattles. People in basic white clothing shuffled through and fro, doing their best to soothe the quickly dying in their final moments.
The plague swept through the Indestructible city, killing its citizens in larger quantities than any dragon could hope to accomplish. As Nur strode forward, no one paid him any mind, merely unconsciously moving out of the way. While everyone else was stained and grimy, he remained clean.
He was merely a mythos to the world outside of this sick hall, but he was an actual figure to the workers and the sickly within this morgue, albeit a symbol of yet another loss.
Finally, he stopped his pace, now standing over a tiny cot, observing as one of the caretakers tended over the small child. After whispering some words to the child, the caretaker turned to face Nur. They couldn’t reach his gaze, so they merely stared at his chest.
“They don’t have much longer. I’m afraid there is nothing we can do.” Nur nodded.
“I understand.” The caretaker nodded back swiftly before hurrying off to take care of yet another dying man. Nur slowly turned towards the child, a young girl, face pale and pockmarked. Most of her hair has fallen out, her eyes sunken and tired.
“Hey there, kiddo. How you doin’?”
The poor girl could only barely mutter out a weak “Hi.”
If Nur could frown, he would. Alas, he remained in constant smile. The girl coughed, almost hacking out a lung. Nur watched as speckles of blood rinsed down his suit, never sticking or staining, crimson rivulets that puddled on the floor.
“How do I look?” The girl rasped out.
“I’ve seen worse.”
While she was dying, she still had her sense of humor, chuckling even though it pained her.
“I don’t have… much longer, do I.”
“No.”
She coughed again, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.
“That’s why you’re here.”
“Yes.”
Slowly, the girl pushed herself to be sitting on the cot instead of lying down.
“I’ve seen what you do with the others. They make a wish, and you grant it.”
“That is correct.”
“Why?” As she spoke, the more energy she found. Nur exhaled, standing to his full height.
“Because you’re children with your life cut too short. This way, at least some dreams can still be accomplished.”
“Could I wish for the pain to go away?”
“Death will grant that shortly.”
“Oh.” She softly exclaimed.
She reached for something, but her hands couldn’t find it. Her face grew sad as she remembered her journal was still at her home. As she was about to retract her hand, Nur placed her journal in it.
“Thanks,” She didn’t care how the man got it; she was just grateful that he did. For one final time, she decided to flip through the pages. Stories upon stories greeted her. But they had a similar theme. They all depicted her as a dragon. Happy and carefree.
“You never did have a happy home. So, you wrote in this journal what you would do if in different circumstance.”
“Yes.” A quiet whisper of an answer.
“I don’t believe you have to say your wish out loud. I think we both know it already. Your favorite color is orange, is it not?”
Her surge of strength was already fleeing her. As she fell back into the cot, she nodded slightly. She coughed and wheezed again, yet even more blood speckling out.
“I don’t want to be alone.” Her final words as she closed her eyes, life finally failing her. Nur merely stood next to her, head bowed. One of the caretaker’s assistants walked up and began pushing the cot, moving the now corpse to be burned in a fiery grave.
As they did so, Nur pulled out a carved orange dragon figurine from whatever hidden pocket he pulled things out from.
“You won’t be.” Was his answer to the carving. Putting it back, he turned on his heels and strode out of the sick hall, swiftly vanishing among all the bodies.
Nur stood alone in a meadow, far away from the Indestructible city. Gently, he placed the draconic carving down onto the soft grass. As he walked away humming some song to himself, an orange skywing dragonet was left sleeping contently on the dewy soil.
The plague swept through the Indestructible city, killing its citizens in larger quantities than any dragon could hope to accomplish. As Nur strode forward, no one paid him any mind, merely unconsciously moving out of the way. While everyone else was stained and grimy, he remained clean.
He was merely a mythos to the world outside of this sick hall, but he was an actual figure to the workers and the sickly within this morgue, albeit a symbol of yet another loss.
Finally, he stopped his pace, now standing over a tiny cot, observing as one of the caretakers tended over the small child. After whispering some words to the child, the caretaker turned to face Nur. They couldn’t reach his gaze, so they merely stared at his chest.
“They don’t have much longer. I’m afraid there is nothing we can do.” Nur nodded.
“I understand.” The caretaker nodded back swiftly before hurrying off to take care of yet another dying man. Nur slowly turned towards the child, a young girl, face pale and pockmarked. Most of her hair has fallen out, her eyes sunken and tired.
“Hey there, kiddo. How you doin’?”
The poor girl could only barely mutter out a weak “Hi.”
If Nur could frown, he would. Alas, he remained in constant smile. The girl coughed, almost hacking out a lung. Nur watched as speckles of blood rinsed down his suit, never sticking or staining, crimson rivulets that puddled on the floor.
“How do I look?” The girl rasped out.
“I’ve seen worse.”
While she was dying, she still had her sense of humor, chuckling even though it pained her.
“I don’t have… much longer, do I.”
“No.”
She coughed again, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.
“That’s why you’re here.”
“Yes.”
Slowly, the girl pushed herself to be sitting on the cot instead of lying down.
“I’ve seen what you do with the others. They make a wish, and you grant it.”
“That is correct.”
“Why?” As she spoke, the more energy she found. Nur exhaled, standing to his full height.
“Because you’re children with your life cut too short. This way, at least some dreams can still be accomplished.”
“Could I wish for the pain to go away?”
“Death will grant that shortly.”
“Oh.” She softly exclaimed.
She reached for something, but her hands couldn’t find it. Her face grew sad as she remembered her journal was still at her home. As she was about to retract her hand, Nur placed her journal in it.
“Thanks,” She didn’t care how the man got it; she was just grateful that he did. For one final time, she decided to flip through the pages. Stories upon stories greeted her. But they had a similar theme. They all depicted her as a dragon. Happy and carefree.
“You never did have a happy home. So, you wrote in this journal what you would do if in different circumstance.”
“Yes.” A quiet whisper of an answer.
“I don’t believe you have to say your wish out loud. I think we both know it already. Your favorite color is orange, is it not?”
Her surge of strength was already fleeing her. As she fell back into the cot, she nodded slightly. She coughed and wheezed again, yet even more blood speckling out.
“I don’t want to be alone.” Her final words as she closed her eyes, life finally failing her. Nur merely stood next to her, head bowed. One of the caretaker’s assistants walked up and began pushing the cot, moving the now corpse to be burned in a fiery grave.
As they did so, Nur pulled out a carved orange dragon figurine from whatever hidden pocket he pulled things out from.
“You won’t be.” Was his answer to the carving. Putting it back, he turned on his heels and strode out of the sick hall, swiftly vanishing among all the bodies.
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