Dragons are beasts of keen perception.
In the wild, we rely on keen sight, on sensitive hearing, on a keen sense of smell, and on sensing movements and changes in the air around us through our wings - to say nothing of less mundane senses - to find our prey and navigate the world.
... at least, that's what I'm assuming. Not like I've spent much time in the wild. But I'm certainly a dragon, and those senses are certainly keen, especially compared to how they were before.
There's ozone in the air. A faint pricking sensation, as the incessant electric buzz that fills the building rises in pitch. It fills the office break room, a portent of something impending - right behind my coworker and friend, Amanda, standing across from me.
In a moment of reflex, I grab Amanda's arm and yank her towards me with a strength you wouldn't expect from my complete lack of muscle tone. She yelps in objection, before the fuse box she was leaning against explodes, showering the two of us in sparks at the same time as it drops us into pitch blackness. Amanda's coffee, fresh brewed and boiling hot, falls to the ground and begins to soak into my sneakers, but I barely even recognize it as hot.
I let go of her; she's shaking a little. I can see the room perfectly well, but she's fumbling in the dark.
"How did you-" she stammers, shaken out of the boring work conversation (and juicy office gossip session) we were having seconds earlier.
"I uh... saw some sparks."
I hadn't. There weren't any obvious signs - not ones a human would have seen, anyway.
"Thanks, Jo-" she mutters, still reeling in shock.
"Not a, uh, problem." Okay. Okay, I think she believes me.
The office outside the break room erupts into confusion and uproar as the power fails to return. Faulty wiring, probably. Doesn't look like anything's getting done today.
Phone flashlights turn on, and people shuffle their ways along to confirm their courses of action. Quietly, I slink away out the back door, to the fire escape. I try not to look too closely at the people passing me by. Don't want them to see the way my eyes reflect light in the darkness.
... I'm doing it again. Those movements; the coiled, ready to pounce way of carrying myself I keep falling into when I try and move unseen. Some kind of hunting reflex; the movements of an apex predator. It might not be perceptible to anyone else, but my life is full of constant reminders about what I am, now.
Especially that tension, in the back of my mind. I spend too much time in this shape, this mask of something that I once was - or, perhaps, had mistakenly thought I was. My back aches, a complaint that something is missing. Okay, Joan. Just a few more minutes and you'll be able to let them breathe a little.
The city air greets me, too-warm, as I emerge from the fire escape onto the building rooftop. There's a spot, not visible to any security cameras in the area, around the southeast side of the building.
Sitting on the rooftop's edge, I take off the open shirt I wear around the office, revealing the two large, handmade holes in the back of the t-shirt beneath. I take a deep breath, then let go of that pressure as I exhale.
The blowing wind feels wonderful against my patagium. My face is the right shape again, my scalp no longer bare of its horns. My tail flicks across the concrete. It's not my true form, not really, but it's a hell of a lot better. And to think, I spent so long not knowing of this, so long holding that tension in, even when it was diminished by not knowing anything else.
The city is loud and busy and warm. It's full of cacophonous sounds and scents, more than a little overwhelming to senses tuned for wild forests.
I sigh. Some days, I do feel the urge to just... fuck off. Drop off the map. Let go. Become some cryptid in the woods, surviving off wild game. But maybe there still is more human left in me than I had thought, or maybe I just like my creature (heh) comforts, or maybe, just maybe, folks do depend on me, and would miss me; I can never bring myself to do it. Yes, I'm something Different now, something Other. Maybe I never truly was of this world in the first place. And yet it's still Home.
I hear the door creak. My heart skips a beat, as I take a sharp breath, immediately pulling myself back into a human disguise. I turn, and look over my shoulder, hurriedly pulling that shirt back over me to hide the holes beneath.
It's Amanda.
"Had a feeling I'd find you here."
Hunter's movements aside, it wouldn't have been that hard to see me walk towards the fire escape...
She continues, sitting crosslegged besides me. "Everything all good, Jo? You've been even broodier than usual, recently. Something on your mind?"
... so much. So much doubt and worry and fear and...
"Hey, thank you. Again. For the fuse box thing. You, uh, -"
"Don't worry about it." I mutter.
"... hmm." She scrutinizes me, closely. "Sweet when it matters but standoffish and grumpy. Jo, you sure you aren't a cat?"
She meant it as a lighthearted joke, but... gosh, there are similarities, huh?
Normally I'd be really uncomfortable being interrupted during my little "break times" like this, but Amanda is⦠disarming. She's different. As human as everyone else in the office, but there's a gentleness in her eyes that never goes out, an irrepressible feeling of graceful calm radiating from her.
⦠I shake myself out of that train of thought. Am I- no, no, I can't be. Maybe it's her perfume playing havoc with my senses. Chemically similar to some kind of dragon pheromone, maybe, or something. Do us dragons even have pheromones like that?
There's still so little I know about what I amā¦
I sigh, and look up at the sky. I belong up there. When I enter my true form - rare as that can be - I can feel the strength in those wings. I know that they can carry me aloft, high and free. But it's been four months now, four months since that fateful night where the truth became clear, and I'm still too scared to soar.
I had so much hope at that moment. I felt a pervading catharsis and peace, knowing what I was. But ever since, I've only felt more alone than ever. Working the same job, living in the same apartment, but now so keenly aware of the ways in which I'm different.
Amanda's voice rings out. "You okay, Joan? Anything you want to talk about?"
I sigh. "No, not anything like that. I'm just⦠thinking", I mumble.
There's so much, but⦠can I trust her with the truth? Is there anyone I can trust it with? I wonder if this is why so many stories portray us as solitary. Do we struggle to trust humans? Or is this just me, the doubts and fears of a girl who still carries scars within, from long before I knew of my flame?
People call me Joan now, but it wasn't too long ago that it was a different name I was called, one that rang out with hurt every time it was spoken. Every day, I still take those little blue tablets, even though I'm not entirely sure if I even need them anymore, considering that I'm no longer even truly a mammal, let alone a human.
Maybe it's the opposite. Maybe we're social creatures, us dragons. Maybe somewhere out there I can find my flock.
Amanda jostles my shoulder, shaking me out of my thoughts for good, this time. She's calling my name. Still takes me by surprise a little, whenever I hear people call me by my real name, my chosen name. I named myself after a knight, but it turned out that I was the dragon. What poetic irony. I pull myself back up to standing, and nod gently at her. "Sorry. Just, lost in thought."
The look of concern on her face is genuine indeed. I feel a little bad, worrying her like this. She really helped me get situated at this job, became my only real friend among the other staff, the closest friend I've had in years. She can definitely tell that something's changed in the last few months.
She'd never guess, though. It's just too fantastical. Probably not worth hoping that she'd see through to the truth.
She gives me a look of concern. "Hey, Joan?"
"Yeah?"
"... I'm here if you need anything. Anything at all. Alright?" Her earnestness and honesty is overwhelmingly clear.
⦠I have to do this. I'm utterly terrified, but there's a conviction that pushes me on. The rational part of me is screaming that I should stop. But maybe I'm just tired of being distrustful. Maybe I'm just tired of keeping secrets. Amanda is something special. I can't lie to her anymore.
I shrug off that shirt, take a deep breath.
"It'd be better to just show you" I mutter. Still building up the courage.
"Whatever it is, you can trust me"
I smile, feeling the wind on my face. I let go, and let that wind fill my wings.
I hear a gasp.
A wave of panic crosses over me as I refocus my senses and reopen my eyes. Oh no. I got lost in the moment, let go of that false humanity too totally, too completely. My clothes are in tatters across the rooftop, my green-scaled true form barely even fitting within its confines.
Amanda recoils in shock a little bit. Somehow, I can⦠feel, the momentary twinge of fear that she experiences. My own mind rushes in shocked panic. Wait, I can do that? The world has always felt different, more chaotic, more emotionally charged, when I'm in my true shape, but I've never been so close around another like this before. I curl up my tail around myself, taking a deep breath, doing my best to bring calm into the situation. There will be time to figure that out.
But perhaps even more shocking is how quickly her fear fades. She steps forwards, and lays a hand upon my flank. She's definitely confused, but she's always been a girl to keep her promises. And she promised me that I could tell her anything. That I
could trust her.
"Joan?"
I blink, slowly, and nod that huge, scaled head of mine. I try to say, "this is what I am", but it comes out garbled, rough. My voice is rumbly, strong. I'm not used to talking like this, but hearing those sounds, so obviously inhuman, come from my mouth is a comfort.
I can feel her concern. It's gentle and warm.
"It must be hard having to hide something like this, huh? I get it. Hiding is hard. You gotta tell someone."
A twinge of melancholy. She's talking from experience, here. There's a sadness, a deep one, even beneath those shining eyes of hers. I hadn't realizedā¦
There's a shy, tearful smile. "I'm glad you chose to tell me."
I can only let out a quiet rumble. In my true form, with this, sense, I seem to have, I can tell Amanda is hurting, too. Hurting more than I knew. We're friends, she's opened up to me a little about her struggles, but⦠this is a deep hurt. One that she may not be entirely cognizant of.
Just like the tension I used to feel, before my wings blossomed into beingā¦
She sits down besides my flank, and I coil my tail around her, as she gently strokes my scales. It's nice. Peaceful. I'd have expected to bristle at being hugged and pet like some kinda oversized animal, but now that it's happening, I don't mind at all. Well. I guess I am an oversized animal. An oversized animal with a communications degree and a fondness for cream-filled donuts. The thought brings a smile to my snout.
I glance up at Amanda, knowing she's staring back into a piercing, silver-blue, vertically slit eye. She's crying. I can feel a sort of catharsis from her.
I think I get it. We're both used to hiding⦠it can be moving, to see someone let it out, trust you with the truth of their being. To feel valued in that way.
I draw closer to her, gently, rumbling as comfortingly as I can. I want to say, I see you too, little one. It's alright. You don't have to tell me where that pain comes from, not if you aren't ready.
I understand.
