the birth of a dragon.

he doesn’t remember much.

there was a scream- a howl of pain- and then he was placed in the world. not as he should have been, not yet, but he was put front and center- a prize.

someone pushed him, collected him in their hands, and held him close. he wasn’t aware, yet, of what this would mean in the end. or, in the beginning.

he was a centerpiece, a prize, something to be awed. they weren’t the kindest keepers, and no one gave him the proper kind of reception upon touching pure, living ground, but he was kept nonetheless. at the very least, they kept him well, kept him safe. he could return to his sleep.

sleep was blissful, comforting, regaining that which he had scattered across the heavens so long ago.

sleep was temporary, as it always was. there was no true rest for him, and there never would be. lives always cut short, or last too long. complications last forever, in every life, no matter what one may learn or try to do outside of them.

he was pushed, again, in a way. hit, more like, forced to rely on what magic he had to flee. it wasn’t enough, his shell was breaking. he went as far as he could, desperate to hide.

the hatching of a dragon’s egg was supposed to happen on an exact day, at an exact time, with no issues. never once had his hatching been proper, but this was the earliest one he’d ever experienced, only a few years into the aether.

unceremoniously, he was born.

a man, and barely that, tumbled onto the ground before a small group of people. his back arched, wings flexing under a human disguise, tearing free from the flesh of his back in a burst of green and purple smoke. horns sprouted from his head in a similar matter, purple liquid matting his fluffy hair down against his forehead. the group watched with shock painted plain on their faces as his spine shuttered, each bone cracking, elongating, until a tail sprouted from his tailbone. he was changing, transforming, stuck somewhere between a truth and a lie.