1.2k words, no warnings apply- unless you count vague mentions of murder
Scale messed up. He understands this. Understands it deeply. He has inscrutably fucked up beyond what reasonable words could measure.
He rakes his claws down his face in deep frustration, pacing nervously outside of his of his own den. A normally very cozy home that he's made for himself in the side of a mountain, close enough that it was a short fly to the Order but far enough that he can get some privacy.
A cozy home with a human inside of it.
Despite years of honing the draconic urges within him, settling insatiable greed to a mere occasional twinge of desire. His assassin training had helped his mind overcome many of the instincts he found hard to control as a hatchling and adolescent. But it wasn't gone, not fully.
He peeks into the den from around the corner, peering down the cave entrance and into the large central room. Scale didn't have much contact with humans aside from other assassins or ones he's killed. They're fickle, weak little things. They have to be killed quickly and silently, or else they'll screech like banshees at the first sight of danger.
This one, however, has settled quietly on the pile of furs and blankets he's snatched over the years. He'd dumped them there and fled unceremoniously once he'd gained enough control over himself to realize the gravity of his actions.
Admittedly, he doesn't understand much about humans. The only ones he talked to were other assassins, and apparently they were not indicative of the entire species. However, he does understand one aspect of human culture that is the same as dragon culture: wealth. Symbols of status. The more you could adorn yourself in jewels and sfine clothing, the more important you were.
And by the looks of you, you were a very important human. Dressed in long silks adorned with intricate embroidery and glittering jewelry. He'd noticed them hiking around close to his domain, his eyes catching the glinting of gold jewelry. In a brief fit that he can only assume was complete madness, he'd swiped up the human and flown them to his den before he could catch himself. The dragon hadn't had a greedy fit like this since he was a hatchling, when his fingers were much stickier and his sneaking skills much duller. The elders of the Order would punish him with kitchen duty for a full week for trying to sneak into the armory and swipe one of the many beautifully ornate daggers they kept hidden there. He'd drop silver spoons and forks into his apron pocket instead to tide him over.
You've seemed to entertain yourself by idly picking through his hoard. Examining a gold piece or a jewel here and there. The sight should make smoke billow from his nose in anger, a human daring to mess with a dragon's hoard so casually. Though he doesn't find himself caring much- he had bigger problems. Scale prided himself on not being a very greedy dragon. His hoard was modest, if anything. The Order paid him for his work with gold pieces the same they did with the human workers, though it was not as if he had much to spend it on. He hunted and grew most of his own food, and quite frankly he didn't enjoy the way humans gawked at the horns on his head or wings on his back. When he did have to buy something, he tended to swipe it and leave a few scattered gold pieces in his wake before anyone was any the wiser. Humans were stupidly easy to sneak past thanks to their inferior sight and hearing.
Sneaking, however, will not save him this time. Not unless he wants to abandon his home and start over.
It's tempting. But ultimately unrealistic.
As much as he'd like to hide outside for a while longer, simply standing around will not solve the problem at hand.
He strides into his den, straightening his shoulders and glowering, trying to seem intimidating. Best case scenario, he'd scare them away. Worst case, he'd kill them. Cleaning the blood from the furs beneath them would be a pain, but manageable nonetheless. We was an expert at removing bloodstains by now.
(He thinks briefly in the back of his head that it would be terribly cruel to slaughter them when he was the one who abducted them in the first place. Stupid dragon instincts. He pushes the thought away.)
He stays silent as he stalks towards them. If the human notices his that his footsteps make no sound, they don't openly acknowledge it. They simply look up at him, blinking.
"Hello." They say. Scale scowls back. "May I ask why you've brought me here?"
He couldn't give a reasonable answer to that if he wanted to. The dragon growls, low in the back of his throat.
"Ah, can you not speak? I suppose it'd be a stretch to imagine that a dragon could speak the King's English." They comment plainly.
"I can speak just fine, puny human." He hisses.
"So you can." They seem to take no offense at his jab.
Scale lowers himself into a crouch in front of them and examines them closer. This human was strange. Normally, humans would snivel and cower at the sight of him. His sharp eyes trail down to their feet, clad in a hardly pair of leather boots. Worn and well used, completely unlike the rest of their garments. It seemed if they stood to their full height, the robes they wore would hide the mud covered appearance. He supposes it only made sense- one could not trek through the countryside in the kinds of fancy shoes with buckles and heels he'd seen rich humans like. Sometimes assassins at the guild would show off their newest footwear purchases to one another, either bought for disguises or in celebration of a large payment. He never understood the appeal. You could hardly run in something so ridiculous, and the heels weren't even sharp enough to stab someone with. Useless.
You seem to be as interested in him as he is you, taking in his appearance as though he wasn't a large and terrifying monster.
He's very interesting, they think in mild amusement. They'd read before that dragon hybrids were twice as big as humans, with a voracious appetite and an insatiable greed. Although, this one is hardly bigger than the average human man. Perhaps he is a small one, or perhaps the stories of humans were simply exaggerated as stories are want to be.
The dragon has a messy head of brown locks, with horns not dissimilar to a ram's, though the sharp points curl outward instead of into a spiral. The hybrid seems to have a strange mix of pale skin and green scales. Scales crawled over the backs of his hands and arms then dissipated, the same on the sides of his face and neck. Long ears occasionally twitched and the scowl between his eyes seems semi-permanent. They wonder what his scales felt like to the touch.
"You're pretty." They say, in the same manner of casual speak one would use to note the weather.
"Pretty? Pretty?!" His upper lip twitches into a snarl. "I am no such thing. I am-"
The human reaches out and brushes a finger along the scales on the side of his face. They're softer than they expected. Vaguely, they recall a time when they were younger and managed to sneak into the forest for a time, holding a lizard found beneath a rock in their palms and petting a finger down it's back. His scales feel similar.
The dragon lurches back, scrambling to his feet and jumping a good six feet away in a flash. Like splashing water onto a cat.
"What- what is wrong with you?!" He holds a hand over the scales they touched as though it was a grave attack rather than a gentle touch. "Are all humans this mad?"
His teeth are sharp, too, they note.
"Curious?" He huffs incredulously. A small billow of smoke exhales with it. "Shouldn't you be shrieking and wetting yourself in terror by now? I'm a dragon!"
His voice squeaks a bit when he's distressed. The human has to hide a tiny smile behind their hand lest they anger him further. He was quite cute.
His tail flits in annoyance, thumping on the ground. Apparently they did not hide their amusement well enough.
"What?" They're eyebrows shoot up and their mouth drops. That was the most reaction he'd got from them yet. "You're the one who brought me here!"
"And I clearly made a grave error in doing so." He scowls.
The human crosses their arms petulantly. "And what if I don't want to?"
It's Scale's turn to gawk. They wanted to stay? No- no no, that will not do at all.
"How do you know I'm not simply going to gut and eat you?"
"If you wanted to eat me, you wouldn't be telling me to leave."
Dammit. They got him there.
The human tilts their head. "Have you even eaten a human before?"
"I have as far as you know."
The human leans back comfortably, making a mockery of his authority. Scale's ears twitch as they take a necklace into their hands and fiddle with the chain in interest. He'd stolen that one off a baron he sliced to ribbons not long ago. The factory workers he employed had pooled all their savings to arrange his assassination. He'd only taken half the usual payment, since he was a nice dragon like that. Plus, he had a great deal of fun stalking that one. He tries to remember that as he huffs and snorts in annoyance.
"You are testing my patience. I have no use for a weakling such as yourself and you have no choice in the matter. Leave my den before I throw you out, miserable wretch."
"No." They say again, looking as though they may stick their tongue out at him like a child. "You brought me here in the first place. Everyone always says that dragons are mindless killers, but I reckon if you were actually going to hurt me, you'd have done it by now."
Scale can do nothing but stare when the human petulantly makes themselves comfortable on his furs, as though doing so purely out of spite and nothing else. They lay down on their back, stretching and laying near his campfire like a cat getting ready for a nap.
The dragon feels his hands twitch, completely flooded with confusion. What has he done? This human is clearly insane!
