Hi OP, this has some dragon dialogue in it. I did try for just dragons but it wasn't working, so the DB showed up.
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From his resting place in the high peaks of the North, Odahviing heard his own name called in need, and stirred. The Dovahkiin summoned, and Odahviing came. As was their pact.
Odahviing, the snow-winged hunter, wheeled low over the plains of the Rift, watching the ground change from snowy forest to the dry red-brown of tundra. His Dovahkiin, the human with the Voice of thunder, called his name again.
In irritation, Odahviing sighed inwardly. Patience, Dovahkiin, he thought. Your Dovah comes.
He banked, turned, dipped, scanning for the small figure of the mortal who had bound him in their strange friendship. The shout had echoed as though against rock, and sure enough, there was the human with his back against a rocky outcrop. His tawny fur armor made him hard to spot against the brown and gold landscape of the tundra, but now Odahviing saw him, amber-eyed and olive skinned, black hair shining in the early sun. His breath puffed quickly into the clear dawn air, and he was sweating, a hand clutched to bloodied ribs; but no enemy was to be seen.
Odahviing saw the human draw a breath to Shout for him again, and landed in front of him.
"I am here, Dovahkiin," he said. "Why have you summoned me?"
The Dovahkiin cast his gaze west, and Odahviing followed his eyes. Then he caught the glimmer of sun on scales and saw a little bronze-scaled dragon, circling in the air a mile away.
The other dragon was young, barely a year old, still growing. The smaller creature saw Odahviing and at once began to show off. He rolled in the air, displaying the shining pale green scales of his underbelly; then he swooped and lit a tall pine on fire in a display of prowess. He screeched, a high-pitched sound from his barely developed Voice. Odahviing's deep rumble of a laugh sounded in disbelief.
He walked to his mortal on the points of his wings.
"Dovahkiin! You called me for that - a little one, the size of your horse? What has happened to you?" he said, flicking out his tongue to smell-taste the mortal's copper tinged blood.
"He caught me sleeping," said the mortal, eyes narrowing in annoyance. Shivering and still holding his ribs he muttered a phrase that caused his palm to glow red, and groaned in pain as his flesh and bones knitted under his own fingers.
"I will bring him to the ground," Odahviing promised. "I will slice his belly like a gutted fish, and you shall consume his soul." He draped a protective wing over his Dovahkiin. "And then I will roast the mudcrabs in the lake for you, lest they overwhelm you in your travels."
"I didn't call you to kill him," said the Dovahkiin, flicking blood off his hands and wiping them on his fur trousers. His shirt was ruined, and he stripped it off, his bare brown chest still sticky with sweat and blood. Across his ribs where the wound had been, there was now a delicate line of new, pink skin. "He's a hatchling, yes?"
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Fire, Shining Cruelty
Date: 2014-01-30 07:19 am (UTC)-------
From his resting place in the high peaks of the North, Odahviing heard his own name called in need, and stirred. The Dovahkiin summoned, and Odahviing came. As was their pact.
Odahviing, the snow-winged hunter, wheeled low over the plains of the Rift, watching the ground change from snowy forest to the dry red-brown of tundra. His Dovahkiin, the human with the Voice of thunder, called his name again.
In irritation, Odahviing sighed inwardly. Patience, Dovahkiin, he thought. Your Dovah comes.
He banked, turned, dipped, scanning for the small figure of the mortal who had bound him in their strange friendship. The shout had echoed as though against rock, and sure enough, there was the human with his back against a rocky outcrop. His tawny fur armor made him hard to spot against the brown and gold landscape of the tundra, but now Odahviing saw him, amber-eyed and olive skinned, black hair shining in the early sun. His breath puffed quickly into the clear dawn air, and he was sweating, a hand clutched to bloodied ribs; but no enemy was to be seen.
Odahviing saw the human draw a breath to Shout for him again, and landed in front of him.
"I am here, Dovahkiin," he said. "Why have you summoned me?"
The Dovahkiin cast his gaze west, and Odahviing followed his eyes. Then he caught the glimmer of sun on scales and saw a little bronze-scaled dragon, circling in the air a mile away.
The other dragon was young, barely a year old, still growing. The smaller creature saw Odahviing and at once began to show off. He rolled in the air, displaying the shining pale green scales of his underbelly; then he swooped and lit a tall pine on fire in a display of prowess. He screeched, a high-pitched sound from his barely developed Voice. Odahviing's deep rumble of a laugh sounded in disbelief.
He walked to his mortal on the points of his wings.
"Dovahkiin! You called me for that - a little one, the size of your horse? What has happened to you?" he said, flicking out his tongue to smell-taste the mortal's copper tinged blood.
"He caught me sleeping," said the mortal, eyes narrowing in annoyance. Shivering and still holding his ribs he muttered a phrase that caused his palm to glow red, and groaned in pain as his flesh and bones knitted under his own fingers.
"I will bring him to the ground," Odahviing promised. "I will slice his belly like a gutted fish, and you shall consume his soul." He draped a protective wing over his Dovahkiin. "And then I will roast the mudcrabs in the lake for you, lest they overwhelm you in your travels."
"I didn't call you to kill him," said the Dovahkiin, flicking blood off his hands and wiping them on his fur trousers. His shirt was ruined, and he stripped it off, his bare brown chest still sticky with sweat and blood. Across his ribs where the wound had been, there was now a delicate line of new, pink skin. "He's a hatchling, yes?"