(no subject)
Daine awakes to a strange, rumbling groan. Her eyes snap open, then blink in bewilderment. There's a canvas roof over her head. For a disorienting moment, she thinks she must be on the road again, that she'll leave the tent and find Numair and the Riders, that Darrow has given her back -- or that it was all a strange dream in the first place. But when she reaches up to brush her fingers over the material, she finds it warm beneath her fingers.
It twitches. And as another low sound fills the room, she realizes it's not canvas, it's alive. It's a membrane, like a bat's wing, but so much larger...
And then its familiar blue color registers, and Daine bolts upright with a gasp. "Kitten??"
Neither the dragon nor the bedroom are recognizable. The weight on her legs that Daine had originally taken for Kit's whole body is really just one scaly forepaw. Kitten's torso fills the room; one wing is pinned shut against the far wall, the other, half-unfurled, covers most of the ceiling before running up against the wall above Daine's head. Her shoulders are butting up against the window, out of which her neck and head have completely disappeared.
And her hindquarters are spilling out into the hallway and Goddess knows what beyond. The doorframe has been all but obliterated.
"Hang on, Kit," Daine says, patting her forepaw before extricating herself from the bedclothes and stumbling towards where the door used to be. The rats' cage, fortunately, is tucked beside her bed in a spot that Kitten's growing body hasn't reached, and she takes a moment to silently reassure them before picking her way out into the hallway. It's almost entirely filled by Kitten's hindquarters and tail, which spills down over the edge of the staircase. The floor groans ominously as Daine makes her way down the hall, having to crawl on poor Kitten's body for a good portion of the distance. It's a little easier to get down the stairs, and by the time she nears the back door, she's broken into a run.
Kitten's neck and head are hanging out the second story window, her neck so long and her head so large that her nose is nearly brushing the ground. She starts to lift her head as Daine approaches, prompting another groan of the farmhouse's timbers, and Daine hurries forward. "Hold still," she begs, taking Kit's head in her hands -- it's nearly the size of a hippo's, too big for Daine to really support, but she has to at least try. "Hold still, and we'll..." she trails off, looking helplessly up at the house, her vision blurring. How in Mithros's name are they supposed to fix this?
It twitches. And as another low sound fills the room, she realizes it's not canvas, it's alive. It's a membrane, like a bat's wing, but so much larger...
And then its familiar blue color registers, and Daine bolts upright with a gasp. "Kitten??"
Neither the dragon nor the bedroom are recognizable. The weight on her legs that Daine had originally taken for Kit's whole body is really just one scaly forepaw. Kitten's torso fills the room; one wing is pinned shut against the far wall, the other, half-unfurled, covers most of the ceiling before running up against the wall above Daine's head. Her shoulders are butting up against the window, out of which her neck and head have completely disappeared.
And her hindquarters are spilling out into the hallway and Goddess knows what beyond. The doorframe has been all but obliterated.
"Hang on, Kit," Daine says, patting her forepaw before extricating herself from the bedclothes and stumbling towards where the door used to be. The rats' cage, fortunately, is tucked beside her bed in a spot that Kitten's growing body hasn't reached, and she takes a moment to silently reassure them before picking her way out into the hallway. It's almost entirely filled by Kitten's hindquarters and tail, which spills down over the edge of the staircase. The floor groans ominously as Daine makes her way down the hall, having to crawl on poor Kitten's body for a good portion of the distance. It's a little easier to get down the stairs, and by the time she nears the back door, she's broken into a run.
Kitten's neck and head are hanging out the second story window, her neck so long and her head so large that her nose is nearly brushing the ground. She starts to lift her head as Daine approaches, prompting another groan of the farmhouse's timbers, and Daine hurries forward. "Hold still," she begs, taking Kit's head in her hands -- it's nearly the size of a hippo's, too big for Daine to really support, but she has to at least try. "Hold still, and we'll..." she trails off, looking helplessly up at the house, her vision blurring. How in Mithros's name are they supposed to fix this?