A Most Inconceivable Rescue
I awoke without any mention of the embarrassment that transpired last night. My temples seemed imbalanced, my legs and wings needed a good stretch, and I was bleary-eyed as all of hell could take it. I slapped my face, waking myself up. "Today's a new day," I hissed forcefully to myself, "so let's wash off, alright?" With that decision solidified, I got myself up, stretched my limbs with draconic grace and headed to my stone basin, grateful to have such a thing as a warm, soothing bath. The water from the faucet was boiling hot--just the way we dragons like it. As I slipped in carefully (as to not sit on my spiked tail), I embraced the sweet bliss of the water's touch upon my scales. I let my head tip back and closed my eyes, sighing contently. Oh, how good it felt to bathe oneself! It almost felt like love, like caressing the body of someone you've lusted after for so long...My eyes snapped open at the sensation of my sheath rising just enough to make the waters part. It stuck up in the air like a trout jumping out of the deep, except it was a leathery grey, with the red sharp tip in full view. I gasped, scrambling to push it back into the water, and collapsed back against the walls of the tub, panting and confused as hell. Gods, what was getting me turned on? Was it... the dream? I scrunched my muzzle at that thought. Couldn't have been. Dreams don't have any meaning, I thought as I probed for the soap bar in front, do they? I disregarded the subject, focusing instead on scrubbing my scales clean, including my nether regions. A small smirk formed on my muzzle. Especially my nether regions, I thought.After getting dressed, I had a chance to look myself over in the mirror not far from my bed and nightstand. A handsome beast was I; scales of shining black adorning a lean but nicely defined frame. As I grabbed a bottle of golden cologne from my hoard and applied it to the grey scutes of my neck, I noted my visage: a striking, sharply muzzled face with a sweeping crest of horns. Three lined the expanse of my head on each side, while a thick fourth curved back to its respective spots, giving me the appearance of a winged figure sculpted exquisitely out of onyx, with living orbs of emerald for eyes (only with slit pupils, of course). I gave a smirk at that self-compliment. "Velandrum, you fine, fine drake," I announced, tugging my rolled up sleeves for emphasis, "out to enrapture another dragoness in flight, yes?" My muzzle drooped. Somehow, that felt... wrong. I tried again: "You charmer, you! Trying to get 'er in the scales, eh?" When that failed to make me flush with pride, I stormed off to a corner of my lair, growling at myself with a lashing tail. Why did it feel so wrong to do the usual thing? I pressed my claw to my eyes. I wasn't the only one whose libido didn't charge after a member of my own kin, was I? I drew my claw down
my snout, grimacing with certainty. No, of course not. There were others I'd heard of, people that meddled in the affair of "ordinary" species' lustful adventures only to get ousted by the law. I even knew a friend of mine--a Minotaur--who got a twenty-year sentence due to an affair he had with a young chestnut mare. Adultery with a scale (or fur) who has an opposing diet--let's say a dragon like me with a brown-spotted cow, for example--gets you thrice that period, plus a chance of getting the ax. I shuddered at the possibility of my life being taken, of my lust leading me into a dark, deep hole of criminal persecution and death. No one, as far as I know, wants to go down that road. So, with those thoughts abated, I padded to my nightstand, snuffing out a candle with a talon, and proceeded to start the flight to work. My occupation resides in the heart of the city, a quarter-mile away from the suburban dwellings in Mount Andon of which I live around. As I approach downtown, I spot the skyscrapers coming into view. All of them look very similar (silver, with blue framings), but I know where to look: right side, third one upon entering. I flapped harder, carrying a briefcase in my claws, as I burst into downtown, smartly avoiding the traffic of centaurs and others marching into work along gravel streets. I spotted my building, landed on one of the balconies reserved for winged folk and headed inside. A large muscular gryphon greeted me; his hide and feathers a bright shade of burgundy. "Hey, Velly," he said. His voice was gentle and thick."Hey," I replied, taking his outstretched talon, "how're you doing, Elsin?""Good, good." The half-avian's smile was infectious, as I managed to grin along with him. "I've been keeping busy with, y'know, this job and family." He stacked his brows in a sort of sarcastic matter. "So," he joked with a talon flourish, "how goes the services of the Most Honorable King Velandrum?" I chuckled at his question, but it didn't last. I was in deep waters here; I couldn't tell him about the events of last night and this morning, especially not out in public. So I just said, "Things are good. My den's looking sharp."Elsin bit the bottom of his beak in curiosity. "Oh yeah?""Yeah.""Alright," he said, striding to his cubicle, "I got work to do. Catch you later.""I will... with my talons!" The old bird got that one; he was howling with glee. I silently watched as he made his way there, bumping his head against the ceiling every now and then. At nine feet tall, he easily was the largest creature working in the office. As I went to my desk, I thought about when we first met a couple of years ago. At the time, I was looking for a job (since I had just finished high school) and, coincidentally, he was as well. In fact, we were in the same line for a job at our current positions. He was a bit shy at first, but once I had pressed him enough, he opened up, telling me
about how he had been ostracized as a fledgling for his size and unusual color. He told me that he was adopted into another gryphon clan when he was nine. They, under the "wings of love" (that was how he put it), decided to home school him until he was old enough to be independent. Once he finished, I felt bad for him. I asked him if he needed help with presenting his application, and ever since he accepted my offer, we've been very close friends. Work was menial and dull. I mean that in a literal, honest way. But what is an ordinary dragon to do if not work? He would be poor, wouldn't he? And who can imagine a poor dragon?Digressions aside, the only respite from perpetual autopilot came in the form of lunch. I hadn't eaten anything for breakfast, and as such, my stomach kept grumbling when I entered the cafeteria. No worries, though, I thought to myself, I'll be devouring my meal soon. Once I chose what I wanted (marinated lamb haunches with bull intestines stuffed with avocado and a kick of spice), I strode to the table nearest to the window, plopping down on the bench with a contented sigh. There were three things I loved about working here: the relaxed dress code, the awesome food and the view the windows provided. Sure, they always looked out onto rows upon rows of high-risers, but peer down below at the streets and you just may notice something happening along there.Which, in today's case, there was. Tons of police-folk were working around a taped-off corpse, bruised and bloody, torn from the wreckage of some kind of transport pod--one of those "automobiles", I suspected. I'd heard a ton about them from locals who have traveled beyond the walls of this city, but never had I seen one until now. From the mass of shifting bodies, I couldn't make out the species of the victim; there were so many cops around. Suddenly, one of them (a burly minotaur) stepped aside, and there she was. By then, I was standing at the window peering down, my muzzle agape. I couldn't believe it. The body was none other than the silhouette in my dream: a beautiful doe, battered and broken, but not dead.I must have stood there for about five minutes, because, even in that decrepit state, the deer's body exulted majesty; her tan fur looked silky and soft where it wasn't stained, the curves that framed it being lithe and slinky. I could feel a tightness in my pants as imagined that body caressing me, holding me closer, closer, closer... "Hey," a gruff voice snapped, "get back to work, dragon! No time to be staring into space!" I wheeled around. It was Erogg, my boss. The goblin--his locks tied back in a braid--stood shorter than most of us at the office (a mere four feet and an inch), but he was loud. He had the kind of voice that would scare into submission if you were ever caught doing something wrong.I drew out a long sigh and trudged past him, my tail brushing him lightly as I went. Having a boss like
that kind of forced me to find a level that I could respect him from, and during my first-ever week of work, I'd quickly found out that silent obedience was the best option as far as I was concerned. Still, I've caught him berating co-workers a hell of a lot more than once, one of them being Elsin. I'd put a stop to that, telling him about his personal history. I snorted. At least he was kind to me then, I thought, settling down in my chair. Back to grueling work again, it seemed.I sat in my chair for the longest time, humming and heeing and hawing before I finally gave into my feelings. The doe. "I have to save her," I hissed, "otherwise there's going to be no body left!" I regretted those words afterwards; they made me sound like an apex predator. I was anything but that. Without any regard for the law, I dashed out of my cubicle, tore down the hallway and leapt off the flight balcony. The wind already blurred away the shouts of my fellow staff as I barreled down into the crime scene, plucking the mangled doe off the ground, her green dress billowing with the wind of my coming ascent. I unfurled my wings wide. Ignoring the gathering crowd of protesting pedestrians, I speeded on, thinking, If a doe is my love, then so be it.I carried her in my fore-talons all the way to my lair, alighting on the cliff jutting out at its entrance. I could've gotten a better look at her now that I literally had her in my arms, but it was not until after I set her upon my bed that I did so. And man, was she beautiful. Her eyelids, painted at the tips with curves of black, were magical to say the least. There was a long scar on her left cheek that widened up with dry blood along the jaw line, but other than that, her face was almost perfect: slightly gaunt jaws tapering into a smooth black cervine muzzle, flanked on both sides by ears shaped like prehensile leaves. Her body was exquisite; the curves of her sides fitting her evergreen dress with a splendid delicacy that only the most skilled tailors could attest to creating. Even her hoofed hands were beautiful in my eyes, despite the bruises that purpled and swelled her knuckles. I picked one of them up, cradling it in my claws, whispering, "I will save you" before letting go. I rose with questions galore. Who was she? Where did she come from? And perhaps most importantly, what fate drove her to this city, this shining jewel called Fäblis Erim? I sighed, retiring to strip myself bare. Such questions would only be answered in due time.