Continuance
Time in dreams is a very tricky (and therefore, highly subjective) thing. Taylor herself had experienced dreams that seemed to last for days when she was much younger, her mind wandering through the land of her imagination, often with Emma, as they explored forgotten places, walked on the Moon, and beat up the bad guys as capes.
Taylor was going on her fifth day in this dream. Kurya had run her through basic flight drills, basic fighting as a dragon, and certain skills every dragon needed to know. In Taylor's case, this meant how to take care of yourself properly, and finding your own food, if needed.
The hygiene part had been easy enough; roll in some mildly abrasive material to help burnish and remove the scales and bathe regularly.
The finding your own food was the difficult part. Taylor had never had to hunt down her dinner before, unless you can call walking down to the supermarket and buying something to eat hunting. Kurya certainly didn't, and thus Taylor learned to forage and hunt. She learned the basics of how to move stealthily, tracking by scent (never mind that someone had left piles of pepper just lying around in the grass; her reaction had been rather incendiary, burning a large swath of imaginary greenery), and killing her prey, and eating it.
That hadn't gone well. The dreamscape bore the scars of Taylor's attempts at pursuit by air and land. Naichi hadn't helped matters much by outright laughing at some of Taylor's attempts. Of course that meant her mother had to tell Taylor some of her embarrassing stories about her daughter.
After five subjective days of this, both Taylor and Naichi were floating in the lake, wings spread on the surface of the water, just relaxing.
"So what is the story with your mom?" Taylor asked, raising her head above water so she could speak.
"Mom was in the army for a while," Naichi admitted, paddling around nearby. "
Spetsnatz, or special forces in particular. She fights to win, and means to make sure we both will be able to live through whatever life throws at us."
"Which, given what we've lived through, is quite a lot," The voice speaking was an older man's voice. He walked out of the woods near the shore, and sat down on a log nearby. "She had to step out for a bit, she asked me to keep an eye on you."
"Naurelin," said Naichi, getting up out of the lake, "this is my father, Sonngrad, herald of Bahamut, and a whole lot of other titles I can't remember."
"A pleasure to meet you, young lady," Sonngrad replied, smiling. "Naichi has said much about you."
"Hopefully none of it too bad," commented Taylor as she climbed out of the water. She unfurled her wings, and gave them a little twitch, to shake the water off of them, before folding them back. Another shake, this one more substantial, started at her muzzle, and worked its way down her body, throwing gallons of water everywhere.
Except on Sonngrad, it seemed. There was an outline where the water met a barrier of some kind, "Being able to manipulate dreams comes in handy sometimes," he said grinning.
"I'm actually here to give my liege's apology to you, Taylor," he said, standing up. He had the look that many older, dignified men had. His features were ethnically neutral; a little bit of Asian, a little bit of Caucasian, and something else Taylor couldn't place. Salt and pepper hair with a neatly trimmed beard to match, gold eyes that sparkled with good humor, yet were still alert, watching for things. He wore clothes suited for the environment, similar to Naichi's homespun cloth and leather, but of a finer cut.
"After a suitable chastisement from my wife," he said, "my lord Bahamut wishes to sincerely apologize for your lack of training and knowledge with your new form. We're both here to help rectify that lack. Kurya with the more physical things, myself with the more intellectual pursuits."
"I am back, dear," came Kurya's voice from the woods. "We were both rather upset that you had been thrown in the deep end, left on your own to learn more than just the basics. You have exceeded my expectations with what you've accomplished on your own. I am most impressed with how you used your tail in your fight; most never learn that trick."
"You mean this?" asked Taylor, who wrapped her tail around a fallen tree and picked it up. "Just felt like something to try." She very carefully set it down on the ground again.
"Indeed," Sonngrad chuckled a bit. "I can't do that particular trick, and neither can Kurya. I'm sure Naichi will try. However, my specialties lie elsewhere."
"I think we can end this session now," said Kurya, finally taking her human form, an older but still quite hale woman, who was short and stocky, with a strange mix of ethnic features. Her gold hair was graying, and cut short. "You'll need to find some time to practice what I've taught you in real life, Taylor," she continued. "Your employer may have difficulty with that."
"I think I can find a way," said Taylor, grinning.
With that, and with Naichi waving, the dreamscape faded, to be replaced by Taylor's alarm clock going off.
- = + [] + = -
Tuesday meant one of the winter storms that occasionally plague New England roared in with a vengeance. Not that it mattered much to the inhabitants of the region, cape and normal alike. Things ran as they normally did, but with a little bit less crime and a lot more snow removal.
Since Taylor was the first of them home, she was the one out cleaning the snow off the sidewalk and driveway. The cold didn't bother her much as she shoveled the snow. In relatively short order, everything was clear, she spread some deicer on the sidewalk and steps, and proceeded back into the house.
From there, she proceeded to make something that she'd only made with her mother before; She'd pulled out the recipe card and began the preparations, hoping to have it done in time for her father.
Everything went well, and soon, it was in the oven.
However, it took Danny longer than usual to get home from work, so Taylor was left waiting for her father. She turned the oven down to keep the lasagna warm, and put the salads into the fridge to keep while she waited for her father to get home.
Two hours later, she finally received a phone call. "Hebert residence," she answered. "Hey, Dad! What happened?" She listened as her Father told her what had caused the delay, and that he was finishing up with the Authorities. "Okay," she said as his explanation finished, "I'll see you in a little bit, then."
It was just after she hung up that she felt a sense of unease, similar to what she felt when she had first encountered Lung. With Lung, it had been a strong feeling that something was wrong, this was more like an itch that needed to be scratched.
Her normal cell phone beeped, alerting her that someone had left her a message. A quick read of the text had her dialing Naichi's number. "Hey, what did you want?"
Taylor listened to what Naichi tried to explain to her. "You mean that vague sense of unease I've been feeling all afternoon is another dragon in the area? One you don't know about? Wait, how many other dragons are in Brockton Bay? Besides the tinker, yes. Six? You, your parents, Chrystrani, myself, and this newcomer? What do you mean it's a chromatic? OK, so their presence alone grates on a metallic dragon's nerves. Wait, I felt the same thing with Lung, explain that. OK, that makes no sense. Sorry, didn't mean to snap at you. Yeah, I'll be fine. See you in the morning. Bye."
Taylor sat down on the couch, thinking about what she'd just been told. A dragon, one that they didn't know about, had just flown into the area. It was probably a wild, chromatic dragon, more beast than anything else. A hungry, carnivorous beast that had just flown from where ever its lair was, into Brockton Bay.
When had this city gone totally, bat shit crazy?
- - - - - - - - - -
Her father finally arrived home, and paid Taylor's burgeoning cooking skills the best compliment anyone could – 15 minutes of silence only broken by the sounds of tableware being used.
"That was nearly as good as Annette's," he said, proudly. "I needed this, after today."
Taylor busied herself after the late dinner, getting things cleared away. "So what kept you from coming home on time?"
"Something really odd," he muttered, "even for Brockton Bay. From what I understand, it started with something doing a smash and grab, and several hundred pounds of frozen fish disappearing.
"Things get weirder; Pretty soon, we've got a bunch of Merchants running as if the Triumvirate were pissed at them, screaming incoherently. An old warehouse had been broken into, and it was filled with ice and snow. At that point, the PRT took over." He went over to the fridge and fished out a can of beer.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you get a call to confirm your whereabouts," Danny added after taking a pull from the can of beer. "Probably tomorrow morning."
- = + [] + = -
Armsmaster and Assault looked at the warehouse that had been broken into. The interior of the building had significantly more snow and ice than the exterior, which was saying something given the late winter storm that had rolled into the area. Then, something had tunneled into the mass of snow and ice, creating a series of chambers within.
"That's not something you see everyday," Assault had commented. "More snow in the building than outside."
"Indeed," was the only thing Armsmaster said as he deployed a small drone, and sent it into the tunnel, concentrating on the video feed from the drone. He saw something in the ice, and what was visible of his face under his helmet paled. "I think, Assault, we should withdraw from the site."
"You know, I happen to agree," replied Assault. "Whatever has decided to hole up here, I don't want to be here when it comes back." He stepped to the side to show Armsmaster the footprint in the snow and ice; It wasn't much larger than a large man's footprint, except that it had an all too familiar form, one they'd seen from the Ward Naurelin, the ongoing investigation at Winslow, and that archival photo Dragon had shown him.
Armsmaster withdrew the drone, and very quickly, deployed some sensors around the entrance and then proceeded to put some around the perimeter of the building.
"You're thinking the same thing I'm thinking, aren't you?" asked Assault as they walked back to the PRT van.
Armsmaster looked at Assault. "Yes, I am."
)
" (facepalm) 
