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WHO: A wizard (the

bestunrevealed) and a dragon (the

fantasycliche).
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Backdated to Monday night!
WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: A wizard and a walking bank of potions components walked into a bar...
FORMAT: quick!

[ She hates it when she miscalculates. When she's decided an area is clear enough for her to disrobe and change forms, only to discover that some dirty, unhomed human has been watching. It's not as though it's a huge hassle, but she prefers to pick her meals. Half the time the humans that sleep on benches in the park taste sour, and there's nothing like expecting a warm, juicy meal only to find it's gone and spoiled itself.

But tonight she's given the area a very thorough skim, and she's confident that she's had some privacy. Her human clothing is left in the nook of one of the trees, and she takes a moment to simply enjoy her proper form again. And it is nice, after spending a few days locked into that small, cramped little shape. ]

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[Snape is not, by nature, a pervert or a peeping tom. He is not in the park by night for any other reason then to see if the magical plants that had specific properties might bloom -- still making regular sweeps of the park for anything. Some only show themselves by night, after all.]

[Just like Dragons in the nude.]

[He WAS totally just rooting around the bushes for COMPONENTS, he swears. But now he is frozen stock still. He takes his wand, and Apparates from the bushes to a better vantage on the path some distance away; there's a soft rustle marking his departure and a sort pop indicating his arrival there on the jogging path.]

[Khisanth is still visible, and bloody magnificent; he's not sure what to do; Care of Magical Creatures was Hagrid's purview, not his. Still, wand out and ready, he admires from a ... reasonably safe distance.]

Edited 2011-08-10 20:17 (UTC)

[ She hears the rustle, of course, but disregards it as some animal. It's not until she catches that soft pop that she realizes she's not quite as alone as expected, and her head swings sharply to fix a stare onto Snape.

No one she recognizes. But the odds are good that he's an imPort, based on clothing and-- and whatever that little stick is. The stranger, she's found, the more likely to be an imPort. She doesn't move, and that orange gleaming gaze is unwavering. ]

Awfully late for humans, isn't it?

Depends on the human.

[He is-- wary, but ...damn. That's a talking dragon. He has no idea what to make of that. They don't talk where he comes from. They're glorious, majestic, and dangerous.]

[Hagrid would be weeping tears of joy in that tangled mess of beard right now, if were here.]

I am Severus Snape; am I to assume this is your true shape, mistress? Or is this a-- grand gift from the 'Porter?

[ "Mistress". Oh, she likes this one already. He knows the reverence due to a dragon. She starts forward, moving slowly, to get a closer look. She's not going out of her way to look threatening, but that comes somewhat naturally when you're a nearly-40-foot black monster. ]

This is my true shape. [ The pride in that is so very audible. ] You may call me Khisanth.

[You don't live through twenty years of terrorist group politics, on top of Slytherin House politics, without learning very quickly when to assume authority, and when to show polite respect.]

[Still, that's a talking dragon. That's intensely wonderous, even for a dyed in the black wool robes cynic like Snape. She is sleep and graceful and exuses power in every physical motion. It's like -- something out of one of the Muggle fantasy stories, really. Not like the Hungarian Horn-Tail; no, this was a magical creature.]

Severus Snape. I must admit, we have-- dragons, where I am from, but none that speak nor think. Not like this.

[Some time part of his inner child, which is not dead, beat, strangled, or otherwise repressed, is thinking this is the cat's pyjamas.]

[ She's just relishing the attention, and it translates into even more grace and dignity in her motions than usual. She can't help that she's putting on a show here, it just happens. Khisanth comes to a stop about ten feet from Snape, neck arched, pearly white claws neatly alined, and wings half spread. She knows exactly the elegant picture that presents, and she knows exactly how beautiful she looks just now. ]

Yes, it seems quite a few worlds harbor that kind of dragon. Mute and dumb. It's unfortunate, really. [ A proud toss of her head. ] As you might guess, we're quite the superior species in my world.

[She is beautiful. Regal and terrible, not unlike a small god. Snape understands those types -- he has bowed to one on occasion, before that god took his love away.]

[He takes a few steps forward, careful not to get too close, but he is intent on looking at her.]

Not so in mine. There are reserves, safe places for them away from man -- we protect them, and protect ourselves, so they will not be lost to the world. Every wizarding child wants to work with them when we are small, like Muggle children desire to dig up dinosaur bones and hope to understand the great beasts of the past.

Our great beasts never left us.

Do you rule your world? Human ingenuity keeps us ahead of ones that don't think or speak, but... you are entirely different.

You keep them in zoos, you mean. [ She gives a derisive snort at the idea. But then, it's not really her business, what happens to anyone other than herself. And if they really are simply dumb animals, then dragons of his world undoubtedly deserve it. ]

I don't want to speak here, in the open. [ Both wings spread, ready. ] This city is far too busy, even at night.

You're not inaccurate, no. [They just-- didn't have cages. Which would be useless, because it's a dragon, really.]

[He watches her wings spread, and pockets his wand; a breath, and the hum of magic has his bouyed.]

There are places I can follow, if you would speak more. If I have trespassed-- I apologize. Ignorance is no excuse, but it would be the truth of it.

[All that practice groveling before Voldemort and learning how to smooth feathers with the Malfoys and the ministry are coming into good use. He is all velvet and honey, no edge at all... Yet, anyway.]

[ Hmm, flight, that's a spell she doesn't know. She makes a mental note to speak to this man while she's a human, and more willing to admit to ignorance. (Forced to admit to ignorance, really, in a world like this one.) ]

How quickly can you move? [ It sounds a little suspicious. She's a fast flier, and it would be annoying to have to wait for him. ]

I can't outpace a Nimbus, but -- I doubt I could outpace you.

[Yeeeeeeeah, that'll be a great conversation. How I can get that magic from the secretive former dark wizard.]

[ A Nimbus? She's almost sure he doesn't mean the cloud-- a snail could outpace the cloud. ]

Keep up. I don't want to fly slowly for a human.

[ And then she's springing into the air, wings snapping open, and rapidly gaining altitude. There are a few less populated areas towards the outskirts of the City that she can think of that would do nicely. ]

[He smirks, and is off in a moment, zipping behind her. He is not slow, at all -- there's no lazy drift needed now, and the fluttering of his cloak is like the ill-fated bat-wings that got him shot a few nights ago.]

[He also brings up his protection charms; dragons in fantasy stories are wily, this one would be no exception... would it?]

[ A single glance back over her shoulder is enough to reassure her that he'll be keeping up, and she promptly stops worrying about it to simply enjoy the flight. She's always enjoyed flying-- she's almost sure it's even better than sex as a human. The night air is cool across her scales, and the moon always looks brighter once you're above the City's lights.

It's not along flight though, and within ten minutes she's touching down on the flat roof of what looks like an abandoned warehouse. She wraps her body around an old water tank, making herself comfortable along its contours, and waits for Snape to land as well. ]

[Snape touches down with a flare of his cloak-- it expands like wings about him, slowing him down as he steps once, twice, and then stops. A good memory has him keeping track of landmarks as they go by; should this not be some terrible trick and he survives the night, he'll be able to find his way back... maybe. If he's lucky.]

[ She watches him, quietly appreciating that black flare. If nothing else, the man dresses well. She stretches lazily and makes a show of relaxing into her lounge. The tip of her tail twitches idly even after she's found her placement, as the only movement in an otherwise still picture. ]

There. Now you've followed a large, intelligent, and most likely deadly creature to an isolated area. A wise move, I'm sure.

[ Not that she has any intention of killing someone with rare good manners (until he does something to upset her, at least), but it's still an amusing little game. ]

[His smirk remains. Now, perhaps, a touch of bravado is in order.]

You wound me, mistress! I have only given a hint of my magic and already you suggest I am unarmed and unprepared. I assure you, am I neither. I think, however, the most important factor in our meeting is that I am respectful. You are a great and wondrous thing; even in my world, you would be singularly spectacular. I give you your due. You are a wonder.

But give me mine: I am a man who looks upon you with respect, not fear.

[He draws his wand-- carefully, slowly, and conjures a seat for himself; a plush one, comfy, thank you.]

I am neither a fool nor and incompetent. But I am curious, and I am guessing your interest is piqued in turn.

[A careful motion and his cloak is settled across the chair and he in it.]

[ She listens calmly, giving no sign of the approval of his answer. Fear is a lovely reaction from people, yes, and no, she can never get quite enough of it. But fearless respect? That's more valuable. She waits until he's done, settled cloak and all, before she lets out a low and rumbling chuckle. ]

It is now, if it wasn't before. [ Her wings refold to her sides; her visit here won't be a short one, most likely. ] No, human, we don't rule my world. There are too few of us in comparison to the humans, and dragons are not known for their willingness to work together.

[While death is an inconvenience in this world, it's not one he wishes to embrace. But he seems to have played a winning hand; years in Slytherin House prepared him to know when to apply the honey, and when to douse with vinegar.]

That rings true with the breed of our world; they do not gather, and fight fiercely for territory... but they are mere animals, and so we master them with some effort as we can. I don't believe, beyond the very basics of your natures, that you can be compared.

[She wasn't surprised when she saw magic, so there must be something to that, too.]

What is your world like? Cities like this have sprouted on the landscape? Or is it less-- inhabited?

[ There's just a brief pause before she answers. If she's planning on getting to know him as Onyx as well, and she is, for the sake of magic, then she'll have to be careful of what she says. Onyx makes no secret of serving in the Dark Queen's army in the company of dragons, so Khisanth had better not mention that. Onyx has also mentioned that her world is called Krynn, so that's out as well.

This double identity thing is starting to sound a little needlessly complicated. ]

No, it's more primitive. Towns are far smaller, and you would never find a place like the City there.

[Snape can empathize with double-identity issues; God knows he was a spy so long sometimes he loses track of his lies... but not often enough that it was a problem.]

Primitive. Like something from this world's past, perhaps? I'm not sure you'd be aware of it's history.

I've looked into its history. Movies set in what you've dubbed "medieval times" are decently accurate. [ Especially Dragonheart. ...she really likes Dragonheart. ]

[Who wouldn't Sean Connery as a dragon?]

I suspected as much. Pre-industrial. This place must be quite a change for you.

[ This is a dragon-shrug. It involves a lot more wing-movement than you might expect. ]

It wasn't difficult to adapt. [ lies ] And what of your own world?

I am from a world not -- unlike this one, but not of it, either. In my world, wizards and witches like myself live along side the non magical, but not with them, not very easily.

[This is the part where nearly all Magical and Muggle matings that he knows of go terribly south is not mentioned. Snape doesn't know one happy 'mixed' couple, ever..]

Why not?

[ She should be feigning apathetic disinterest, but... man, this is actually pretty interesting. ]

They feared power they didn't have or understand. Eventually took to setting us on fire. Which was fairly useless, as we all know anti-burning charms, for the most part.

[It's almost boring, really, if one is prepared for it.]

Muggles fear us, once they understand what we can do and they cannot. Resentment is often common. Some adjust when it's family -- wizards can be born to the magicless.

[ She snorts to hear that, cocking her head in clear amusement. ]

That isn't just "muggles". It's a running theme among humans to fear what they can't understand-- and especially to fear power. [ Rightfully so though, in her case. ]

[Rightfully so, in several wizard's cases, in turn. Tom Riddle was not right from day one, after all. Some people just aren't.]

Or lust for it. But one's reach can too often exceed one's grasp.

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