Ineffable. Inevitable. Indestructible. In the long run, it doesn't matter all that much, does it? Please, just give a chance.
Dragons will wait for their true Rider.
They'll wait for years. Centuries. Some dragons never hatch.
There's Saphira. I knew her, in the way of how a human twin is conscious of the other in the womb. They lose their ineffable knowledge of each other as they grow older, although.
We lost our knowledge of each other, but we knew we once knew each other.
Thorn I knew too. We did not speak directly, or at all. We simply were aware and knew each other.
Saphira was torn from our company.
It did not affect us. We wondered where she was, yet we never were afflicted. Neither was she.
Also, when Thorn hatched. I sensed a presence (a human), but it was all wrong (for me). His life force was Red (for Thorn).
Thorn matched him, down to the core. It was his time. He shook his way out of his century-old home and his mind cleared.
We know things when we are still in our eggs. We balance on the verge of existence and creation. I knew Thorn's life force was Red. So was the human's.
When creatures walk by, potential Riders, they each have their own force. It comes in colors and shades. The one who regularly brought new and uninteresting creatures to see us, his life force was muddled. I could sense gray, but now it seemed both black and
He wasn't supposed to exist.
Saphira was torn away by a Violet. I sensed my own color was a dark Green. So when Thorn had left, I stayed in my protective shell, waiting, and ignoring all the creatures the Wrong one had brought to me.
I knew my name was Tyra. We all knew our true names, our meant ones. Since we were magicked not to hatch until our Rider came along, when we were spelled from wild dragons to a Rider's.
Then it changed.
I could tell my Rider was near. My thoughts were already becoming clearer, my mind recognizing sounds from the basic knowledge that every creature is born with, whether it remembers or not. Sounds vibrated inside my shell, sounds I never noticed traveled inside.
I couldn't hear them, really, but I felt the vibrations. My shell was growing thinner, and I felt the warm touch of a girl's hand.
Green. She was a Green.
It takes a while for one to hatch. The other creatures never realize our shells are just as magic as we are.
My Rider is still there. It's been about twenty-four hours, and though it usually takes longer, her constant presence is helping with the process.
I nose my shell. I have considerably more room now, and also I find that I have a desire to move, rather then simply exist in my mind.
My shell is thin enough. I feel that one tooth, the one I know is for breaking my shell. I crack it against the harder-then-diamond substance that is my egg and it cracks, but only slightly.
I pound it again.
A chip falls. I run my tooth down the edges, where the crack speeds above me and my shell falls apart.
I bring my previously unused muscles and stand up feebly. Here, I know, I am at my most vulnerable.
I take a look at the creatures' face. I see the usual one, the onewho'slifeforceisnotquiteright. I turn my head to the left and see my Rider.
Her face is brown-skinned, with violet eyes and long brown locks. She's dressed in unfamiliar substances, artificial mimics of human skin.
She brings out her hand instinctively, and I touch it with my nose for the gedwey ignasia.
I can tell it hurts her. She jumps back and cradles her hand.
Suddenly I feel a pressure on my stomach, and I am lifted into the air. I flare my small and as of yet useless wings and attempt to bite the human hand holding me.
The male human turns me to face him. I twist my head and try to bite him, but my neck is not yet long enough.
His face changes to sickening amusement.
"Do not worry, dragon. One day you will be big enough to bite as many hands as you wish."
This does not settle me. I squirm yet more.
His eyes are black. His face is bristly with a bit of fur on his chin, and he's wearing red and gold colors.
He's all wrong.
He forces me to look at him. Suddenly he lets out a laugh.
The human turns swiftly and strides outside, opening a strange wooden material and bounds it open.
Masses upon masses of humans stand there. Some look nervous, some look triumphant. The human who carries me holds me out to them.
"This is the Green Dragon! My next ally. She and her Rider shall bring Armageddon to all who defy me, as it has been foretold. Dragon," he turns me to face him. "from here on out, you shall be called Armageddon!"
A force pushes inside my mind. It's not the human, or any creature. It's the magic. The original, and untainted pure magic that gave me the name Tyra.
Riders are supposed to name their dragon. Ancient laws.
Yet ancient laws matter none here. I feel the naming come over me, a dread; as if this one action has changed the course of what was once inevitable.
Ineffable. Inevitable. Indestructible. In the long run, it doesn't matter all that much, does it?
Okay, I think I majorly sucked at the speech. Feel free to rip apart and criticize. But as long as you review.
Come on, press the button. All it takes is a simple 'good' or 'bad', if you're so lazy as to not want to leave a review. Even a G or B, if you'd like. Maybe a 'great' would be nice. :)