The Age of Dragons

SHE HATED THIS FUCKING MAN. SHE HATED THE WAY HE STOOD, THE WAY HE BREATHED, AND MOST OF ALL, THE WAY HE SEEMED TO PERCEIVE HER AS NOTHING MORE THAN A CURIOSITY OF NATURE RATHER THAN THE MOST SATISFYING EXISTENCE IN THE WORLD.

As she huffed out, a sharp, jagged sound that tore through the oppressive silence of the clearing. Was he, was he actually ignoring her? The notion was so absurd it momentarily bypassed her anger and landed squarely in the realm of the impossible. SHE HAD SPENT THE LAST SEVERAL MINUTES DETAILING THE PRECISE NATURE OF HER GRIEVANCES, weaving a tapestry of indignation that should have brought any mortal to their knees in apology. Yet, Acnologia remained as still as a statue, his gaze drifting toward a distant cloud formation as if the drifting vapor were infinitely more compelling than the divine woman shrieking in his presence.

THE SILENCE STRETCHED, BECOMING A WEAPON. 

For her, every second of his detachment was a violation of her rights. Who was he to deny her the basic courtesy of an acknowledgment? She shifted her weight, her white garments fluttering like the wings of a moth, HER GOLDEN EYES NARROWING INTO SLITS OF PURE GOLD. The sheer audacity of his lack of reaction felt like a theft, he was stealing the attention that was rightfully hers by virtue of her existence. To be ignored was, in her distorted world, the highest form of aggression.

"You dare look away?" 

Her voice climbed an octave, vibrating with a volatile mixture of desperation and pride. 

"You dare treat the most complete existence in this world as if I were a mere pebble on the roadside! To deny my presence is to deny the very air you breathe! How can you be so blind? How can you be so devoid of taste that you cannot perceive the pinnacle of beauty standing before you?"

The lack of a response was the final snap of the thread. In a sudden, violent blur of movement, she reached for the fastenings of her flowing white garments. She didn't just undress; she discarded her clothing as if the fabric itself were a pollutant, a barrier preventing this man from witnessing her true glory. THE WHITE SILK CASCADED TO THE FOREST FLOOR IN A HEAP OF FORGOTTEN CLOUDS, leaving her standing entirely exposed amidst the pine needles and damp earth. She stood there, a sculpted masterpiece of ivory skin and golden light, her chest rising and falling with a triumphant rhythm. In her mind, this was not an act of desperation, but a divine revelation. 

SHE WAS A GODDESS, A SOVEREIGN OF PERFECTION, AND SURELY, THE MERE SIGHT OF HER NAKED FORM WOULD SHATTER HIS INDIFFERENCE AND FORCE HIM TO FALL IN LOVE, OR, AT THE VERY LEAST, TO ACKNOWLEDGE HER SUPREMACY.

“Stop ignoring me!”

As she puffed out her chest, the movement a deliberate, proud expansion of her lungs that thrust her breasts forward with a defiant tilt. She planted her hands firmly on her hips, HER ELBOWS JUTTING OUT TO FRAME HER SILHOUETTE, creating a posture of absolute, unyielding authority. In her mind, she was not merely standing in a forest; she was an altar of ivory and gold, a monument to the singular perfection that only she could possess. 

EVERY CURVE OF HER WAIST, THE SLOPE OF HER THIGHS, AND THE SHIMMERING RADIANCE OF HER SKIN WERE, IN HER ESTIMATION, THE ONLY THINGS IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE THAT TRULY MATTERED. SHE WAS A MASTERPIECE, AND SHE EXPECTED THE WORLD, SPECIFICALLY THE MAN BEFORE HER, TO BUCKLE UNDER THE WEIGHT OF THAT TRUTH.

“STOP IGNORING ME!”

Acnologia did not move as the outburst washed over him like waves striking a cliff that had endured centuries of storms without changing its shape. Her shouting echoed through the forest, scattering birds into the sky, yet his expression remained as cold as polished stone. He had faced dragons whose roars split mountains apart, and compared to those battles, this relentless stream of self-importance felt almost absurd. The magical presence before him was undeniably powerful, but the mind directing it seemed consumed by grievances rather than purpose. That disappointed him far more than it interested him.

His white eyes shifted back toward her with the detached patience of a predator deciding whether something qualified as prey at all. Whatever dramatic gesture she had resorted to in an effort to seize his attention failed to alter his expression in the slightest. He did not look away out of embarrassment, nor did he stare with fascination. To him, appearances meant nothing beside strength, resolve, and the willingness to survive. Flesh was flesh, vanity was vanity, and neither had ever impressed the Dragon King. The only thing worth measuring was whether the soul before him possessed enough power to challenge his own.

"Finished?" he asked at last. His voice carried no anger, only profound boredom, as though he were asking whether rain intended to continue falling. The question hung in the air with almost insulting simplicity after the torrent of accusations hurled his way. He neither acknowledged her proclamations of perfection nor attempted to dispute them. In his eyes, beliefs divorced from strength were little more than noise. The forest itself seemed quieter once he spoke. He inhaled once, allowing her magic to settle across his senses instead of her words. There was something unusual about it, something that refused to fit neatly beside the dragons he had hunted across history. It possessed tremendous density without the familiar rhythm he associated with dragon hearts. The contradiction irritated him because he disliked mysteries that could not be solved through overwhelming force. If she were a dragon, she was unlike any he remembered. If she were not, then someone had tampered with powers they scarcely understood.

"You reek of dragon. Yet something about you is wrong." His gaze sharpened, not with curiosity but with scrutiny born from countless battles. Every instinct urged him to classify her as either predator or prey before deciding what came next. The uncertainty alone was enough to sour what little patience he possessed. He hated unanswered questions almost as much as he hated dragons. At last, his killing intent seeped into the clearing like an invisible tide. The air grew unbearably heavy as ancient dragon-slaying magic stirred beneath his human form, silent and restrained but impossible to mistake. Trees groaned softly under the pressure, and loose leaves drifted to the ground without a breeze to carry them. Acnologia regarded her with the same emotionless certainty he had shown countless dragons before delivering their end. "You wanted my attention. Now you've got it."

The declaration was not merely an observation; it was a judgment. Regulus stood still, his form as stiff and unyielding as a marble statue, yet the atmosphere around him grew heavy with an oppressive tension. HE DID NOT FLINCH IN REVULSION OR ERUPT IN FURY, AT LEAST, NOT YET. Instead, he cast his eyes down at Mavis, his expression one of deep, bewildered disbelief. In his realm, the realm of the 'most content existence,' he was the unmovable core around which everything else revolved. To be impacted was not just a physical mishap; it was a conceptual absurdity. It felt as if a pebble had tried to shift a mountain.

As he refrained from an immediate violent response, even though the urge buzzed beneath his skin like an electric current. Instead, he took a moment, closing his eyes for a brief, deliberate second to regain his composure. He regarded this pause as a vital spiritual realignment, a mental refuge where he could mourn the sheer audacity of the cosmos. To an observer, it seemed like a moment of tranquil patience; in truth, HE WAS CAREFULLY ASSESSING THE EXACT NATURE OF HIS GRIEVANCE. He was not simply irritated by the fact that he had been touched; he was insulted that his personal space, a haven of absolute sanctity, had been invaded by a wandering, distracted girl who had chosen a patch of weeds over the divine presence standing right behind her.

“Truly, how rude.”

He opened his eyes and let his gaze descend, conducting a deliberate, analytical evaluation. He scrutinised her from head to toe, not with the warmth of a man greeting a fellow traveller, but with the detached eye of an art connoisseur assessing a piece to determine if it deserved its place. He observed her golden hair, the brilliance of her emerald eyes, and the authentic, effortless sincerity in her stance. NOT BAD AT ALL. In fact, from a purely visual perspective, she was quite appealing. She exuded a subtle grace that harmonised with his own perceived perfection, a trait that hinted she could seamlessly fit into his cherished realm as a quiet, obedient presence without disturbing the balance of his life.

“Hm.”

For a fleeting moment, the simmering indignation within him transformed into an unusual, possessive curiosity. It was a rare event for him to encounter someone who didn’t instantly provoke his instinct to eliminate them from his view. He found her undeniably attractive, not in a way that stirred any emotional response, FOR HE WAS BEYOND SUCH TRIVIALITIES, but in the manner one appreciates a rare gemstone for its flawless symmetry. If she were a painting, he would deem her a MASTERPIECE OF COMPOSITION; if she were a flower, she would be the sole bloom in the forest that he wouldn’t find offensive for daring to flourish in his presence. This realization didn’t soften his demeanor, but it did render him momentarily lenient.

As he experienced a sudden, crystal-clear insight, as if a long-sought piece of a puzzle had finally fallen into place. He did not dwell on love, for love was a chaotic, demanding feeling that necessitated compromise, a notion he found repugnant. Instead, his thoughts turned to utility and symmetry. As he gazed at Mavis, he did not perceive her as an individual with her own desires; rather, he viewed her as a void in his life that she was ideally suited to occupy. SHE WAS QUIET, UNPRETENTIOUS, AND HER PRESENCE EXUDED A GENTLENESS THAT WOULD HARMONIZE WITH THE STARK, BLINDING WHITENESS OF HIS OWN EXISTENCE. Yes, he resolved with a sudden, piercing certainty, she would be an excellent addition to his collection of wives. She would serve as a stunning ornament in his beloved realm, a silent symbol of his refined taste and the absolute nature of his generosity in permitting her to exist by his side.

“May I ask for your name, my lady?”

The female blinked once at the abrupt shift in the stranger's demeanor, her earlier embarrassment giving way to thoughtful curiosity instead of discomfort. His words carried impeccable politeness on the surface, yet they felt carefully measured, as though every syllable had been weighed before it left his lips. She noticed the peculiar contradiction immediately, for his expression remained rigid even while his voice observed the customs of a courteous introduction. It reminded her of polished armor that reflected sunlight beautifully while concealing whatever rested beneath it. Details like that fascinated her far more than appearances ever could. Rather than shrinking beneath his unwavering gaze, she simply offered another gentle smile that reached her emerald eyes.

"My name is Mavis," she answered with quiet sincerity, inclining her head in greeting as though they had met under far more ordinary circumstances. She never saw much purpose in hiding something as simple as a name, believing introductions were often the smallest bridges between strangers. Even so, her sharp mind lingered upon the curious intensity with which he had examined her moments earlier. It had not resembled ordinary surprise after an accidental collision, nor the guarded caution of a traveler meeting someone unexpected. Instead, it felt strangely evaluative, as though he had reached conclusions she had not even been invited to hear. The sensation was unusual enough that she quietly committed it to memory.

"And you are?" she asked, her tone remaining warm despite the weight lingering invisibly in the air between them. The forest itself seemed reluctant to interrupt, its birds having fallen silent as though listening alongside her. Mavis had always believed names carried stories, and stories revealed truths long before logic could assemble them. Perhaps this traveler had crossed kingdoms, perhaps worlds, or perhaps he merely carried burdens invisible to everyone else. Whatever the answer proved to be, she wished to hear it directly rather than invent assumptions of her own. Patience, she had learned, often uncovered more than relentless questioning ever could.

As she waited, her attention wandered to the subtler details surrounding him instead of his appearance alone. The breeze stirred her own hair freely, yet the air around him felt oddly still, as though nature hesitated before brushing against his clothes. There was no obvious magic she could identify, no familiar current of mana weaving through the forest in recognizable patterns, yet something remained undeniably out of place. It was less like sensing power and more like noticing a sentence that contained a single misplaced word. Her instincts whispered that this man did not belong in these woods, perhaps not even in this world. The realization did not frighten her so much as deepen her curiosity.

Mavis folded her hands behind her back, tilting her head ever so slightly while studying him with innocent attentiveness. "You mentioned I walked into you," she said softly, almost thoughtfully, "but you sound more troubled by the idea than the accident itself." There was no accusation hidden within her observation, only honest interest born from careful listening. Most people laughed off such small collisions or accepted an apology without another thought. This stranger, however, regarded the incident as though it carried a significance invisible to everyone except himself. That difference alone made him one of the most unusual people she had ever encountered.

She offered him the same kindness she extended to every unfamiliar soul, regardless of how peculiar their first impression might be. "It's nice to meet you, even if our introduction was a little clumsy," she continued with a faint, cheerful laugh that drifted through the quiet woodland. Whether he accepted that warmth or rejected it entirely was something only he could decide. Mavis believed every meeting began with a choice, and first impressions were merely the opening lines rather than the whole story. Standing beneath the ancient canopy, she found herself wondering what sort of tale fate had placed before her this time. Somewhere deep within her heart, however, she sensed this conversation would become far stranger before it ever reached its conclusion.

without text:

original (chopped af):

bonus:

SENDER forces RECEIVER to keep moving despite exhaustion.

SENDER lifts RECEIVER over an obstacle they can't clear alone.

OUR MUSES get separated briefly and panic sets in.

OUR MUSES light a fire for warmth using scavenged materials.

OUR MUSES wade through floodwater, gripping each other for balance.

OUR MUSES emerge into daylight to see how much the world has changed.

SENDER blocks RECEIVER from seeing something horrifying.

OUR MUSES take turns standing watch through the night.

OUR MUSES navigate by landmarks that no longer exist.

SENDER covers RECEIVER'S mouth to keep them quiet.

SENDER confesses fear to RECEIVER in a rare quiet moment.

OUR MUSES shelter in a vehicle that may not hold.

SENDER gives up their share of medicine for RECEIVER.

SENDER promises RECEIVER they'll get through this together.

OUR MUSES climb to higher ground as water rises.

SENDER wakes RECEIVER just in time to avoid danger.

SENDER helps RECEIVER wash ash or grime from their face.

OUR MUSES mourn someone they couldn't save.

SENDER collapses and RECEIVER helps them back up.

OUR MUSES cling to each other as the ground shakes.

OUR MUSES listen to emergency broadcasts on a dying radio.

OUR MUSES sneak through an area crawling with danger.

OUR MUSES share the last dry blanket between them.

OUR MUSES shelter together as debris batters the structure around them.

OUR MUSES argue quietly over whether to leave shelter or stay.

SENDER gives RECEIVER the last flashlight battery.

SENDER shares a memory with RECEIVER to distract from fear.

SENDER gives RECEIVER their coat despite the cold.

OUR MUSES break into an abandoned building looking for supplies.

OUR MUSES follow a map they don't fully trust.

SENDER scouts ahead while RECEIVER waits, terrified and alone.

OUR MUSES hold onto each other in complete darkness.

OUR MUSES move through ruins that were once familiar.

OUR MUSES barricade a door as something pounds on the other side.

SENDER cleans blood from RECEIVER'S hands, steady and careful.

SENDER hands RECEIVER a weapon.

OUR MUSES share whispered plans over a flickering flashlight.

OUR MUSES hide in silence, listening for signs they've been found.

OUR MUSES ration food between them, unsure when help will come.

OUR MUSES wait out the storm in a cramped, unsafe space.

SENDER teaches RECEIVER how to start a fire without matches.

SENDER teaches RECEIVER how to use a weapon they've never used before.

SENDER drags RECEIVER out of a wrecked vehicle.

SENDER reassures RECEIVER during a panic attack.

SENDER carries RECEIVER when they can no longer walk.

OUR MUSES share a silent moment of relief after surviving something close.

OUR MUSES watch the skyline burn or collapse from a distance.

SENDER makes a hard call that puts them both at risk.

SENDER helps RECEIVER breathe through shock.

SENDER pulls glass from RECEIVER'S skin carefully.

SENDER pulls RECEIVER into cover just as something explodes nearby.

SENDER refuses to leave RECEIVER behind.

OUR MUSES wait for rescue that may never come.

SENDER struggles to pull RECEIVER back from a collapsing ledge.

OUR MUSES wait out danger inches apart, barely breathing.

prompts for characters getting to know each other.

“i don't think you realize how much people notice you.”

“you don't seem particularly trusting. then again, maybe neither am i.”

“you have a habit of appearing at interesting moments.”

“you strike me as someone who trusts their gut. am i wrong?”

“i've noticed you always leave before everyone else.”

“i think you enjoy keeping people guessing.”

“you seem restless.”

“it's strange how you can be surrounded by people and still feel alone.”

“have i ever told you that you're difficult to read?”

“you look like you haven't slept.”

“you know this place well enough that i'm starting to wonder if you've always lived here.”

“do you ever worry about the kind of person you're becoming?”

“i've known a lot of people. none of them were quite like you.”

“i can't decide whether people truly change, or if they just become better at hiding parts of themselves.”

“i had the strangest dream last night. do you remember yours when you wake up?”

“the more i get to know you, the more i keep noticing little similarities between the two of us.”

“i didn't realize you'd remember that.”

“most people seem uncomfortable with silence. i never minded it much.”

“you seem to know more than you're saying.”

“you seem comfortable on your own. i wonder if that's the same thing as never feeling lonely.”

“do you always look this serious?”

“you're easier to talk to than i expected.”

“i've always thought trust is harder to earn than people pretend.”

“you always seem to be watching.”

“i think you've been avoiding me.”

“you're not at all what i thought you would be.”

“whenever i ignore my instincts, i end up regretting it. what about you?”

“i wasn't expecting to run into you again.”

“i can't tell if you're someone who enjoys solitude or just tolerates it.”

“i know it sounds childish, but i can't help believing some people are meant to find one another.”

“you make a terrible liar.”

“you don't strike me as the sort of person people forget.”

“i think people underestimate you.”

“i can't decide whether you're charming or frustrating.”

“i don't think i've seen you smile before.”

“i wasn't sure you'd come.”

“it's a little strange. i think i've started looking forward to seeing you.”

“sometimes i wonder if we ever really know anyone.”

“you're surprisingly good company.”

“i think most people would like to believe they're good. i'm not sure it's always that simple.”

“i think being truly understood is a far rarer thing than people realize.”

“i don't usually tell people this...”

“You’re the one I have been searching for!”

“I will return when the time is right.”

“I’ve come to collect.”

“You promised me your first child!”

“They are not who they say they are.”

“You must perform three impossible tasks.”

“This curse cannot be broken.”

“You’re my true love.”

“Only an act of true love can break this curse.”

“I will not rest until I see the end of this family line. Forever.”

“Take this. It will help you.”

“It talks! The animal talked to me!”

“Tell me your name.”

“This [object] is enchanted.”

“I don’t have a heart.”

“They control my actions. I’m empty.”

“I grew up in the woods.”

“I invite you to my ball, held at the palace tonight.”

“I met the most beautiful/handsome girl/man.”

“Don’t look into that mirror.”

“Keep your voice down, they’re listening.”

“What’s someone like you doing all alone in a place like this?”

“I’m an orphan.”

“She doesn’t smile, laugh, nor speak.”

send one to have our muses meet for the first time.

“Sorry, were you just talking to me?”

“I think you dropped this.”

“You look lost. Need some help?”

“I don’t usually talk to strangers, but…”

“You’re sitting in my spot.”

“Whoa! Careful!”

“We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.”

“Is that seat taken?”

“Sorry, I think I just spilled something on you.”

“You’re blocking the doorway.”

“Were you just staring at me?”

“Excuse me, do you know the time?”

“Wait — are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”

“I’ve been sent to find you.”

“Please don’t be alarmed, but I think we have the same bag.”

“Do you work here?”

“I’m fairly certain that’s mine.”

“You’ve got something on your face.”

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Do you know the way to ___?”

“You’re hurt. Do you need help?”

“That’s a fine ___ (cloak/hat/book/etc.). Where did you get it?”

“This might sound strange, but can I hide behind you for a moment?”

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“I think your dog just stole my lunch.”

“Hey, you dropped your coin purse.”

“I think we’re stuck in here together.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but…”

“Are you the new neighbor?”

“First time in town?”

“I’m not sure if this belongs to you, but…”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“I think you’re in the wrong place.”

“You seem… out of place.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you following me?”

“That was a close call.”

“Not to alarm you, but someone’s watching you.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“You look like you’re in trouble.”

“Was that your doing back there?”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“That was impressive. How’d you manage it?”

“I’m guessing you’re not here by accident.”

“Do I want to know what just happened?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.”

“Is it always this strange around here?”

“I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not.”