Dragon Dancer

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Author: Joysweeper
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Xanadu story universe
Author's Comments

I don't suppose anyone else has wondered what it might be like to be four people in one costume at Xanadu? I'd have liked to put something like "The fortune cookie did say there were great changes on the horizon", but it doesn't really fit.

What? «what?!» ‹what.› [what!]

Confusion!

All around, chaos. Strangeness! There — metal, living, moving! There—fish—no, man—no, fish, walking! There—Woman no notwoman, swelled with life-not-life! There—Woman-and-wood, moving! There—Man-cat not-man not-cat! There—Bullman, there—elephantman, there-kirin-not-kirin woman-notwoman, there—childnotchild. Man-notman, woman-notwoman!

Worse—worse! There—bird-not-bird, man-not-man, god-not-god!

Wrongness! Can change that?

No. Can't change that. Tried, hurts!

And sky—sky hidden! Buried! Buried living!

«But—on death, burned. Not buried. Not right, hidden from sky.»

‹What madness, this? Such magic. Such power. Danger.›

[My head hurts... Why aren't I using articles?]

Sky—sky, NOW!

And—sky again. Air again. Breathe. Look down, down, down.

«Buildings—temples? Palaces? Not temples. Not palaces. Many; scattered; connected.»

‹Stripes of crushed stone, poured in lines. Strange. How, from Home to here?›

[Well, first, where is here?]

Breathe. Sniff! Poison! Ashes! Burning! Filth!

«Human lands. Must be.»

Air has poison. Can't change that.

Sniff! Life. Water. Salt. Earth.

Listen! Winds. Roaring—below, from living. Roaring—above, from animate metal. See! Bird-shape high above. Frozen wings. Fire and air and metal, leaving cloud-trail. Carrying humans where there is little to breathe. Strange. Listen! Voices, teeming. Everywhere. Voices and metal and burning.

‹Deep human lands, then.›

Feel! Wind. Hovering, swimming through air. Eight limbs, curled below. Mane-fur blows against horns, against scales. Feelers curl, grip and relax on long face. Tail whips. Heat, sun-heat. Dampness in air. Strengthens heat.

[Right… this is Florida, I remember. Dreadful weather here. Not like Home at all.]

Again, roar below. Black dragon-not-dragon… wings! Fire… two Men, hovering… not human. Only look like humans.

«Chaotic. How, men look human, feel metal? How, men hover?»

‹Need to think. Need solitude.›

[If I remember right, there are mountains… hmm, no, I don't think they are close enough. Well, there are a few lakes. I can go to the closest one.]

Lake? Good. Lake—lake, NOW!

Undulating. Waving. Swimming. Warm. Water has poison, water is icky. Burns scales. Change that.

Now water is just murky. Can't change that.

«Not home. Home water not icky.»

‹Human place, human land Florida. Florida… village? Town? City. City… orland oh.›

[I didn't think about this before, but—wow, is that a strange name or what? Okay, focus.]

Came here… strange. Not right.

Fishes! Chase fishes! Fast, fast—not fast enough. Fishes faster.

‹Damn. Can't catch fishes now. Came here smaller. Came… humans?›

Seagrass, floating. Eat? Taste. Interesting. Seagrass has poison, like water had. Change that.

Much better. Seagrass sticks between teeth. Can't change that. Must claw seagrass out.

[No; can't be. I don't know how I got here, but that's just... too strange. I am not humans, I am— Who am I?]

Beh.

«Jo.»

‹Pi.›

[Ray. Okay, I am Behjopiray, and I have always been Behjopiray, right?]

Hatched as Behjopiray, raised as Behjopiray. Elders say, "Young." Elders also say, "Promising."

Clingy seagrass hard to eat. Mouth long, narrow; seagrass too drifty. Up, pulling.

«Always. Why think not?»

[I am being foolish. Of course I am Behjopiray; it is the name I have borne all my life.]

‹Thoughts confused. Not order. Behjopiray not humans.›

[Of course I'm not. The very idea is ridiculous!]

Surface! Air! Bright. Water in nostrils. Clear nostrils, breathe out!

«Mist-plume. Pretty.»

Breathe in! Ugh. Air carries poison. Change that?

Only very close.

‹Change what can, anyway.›

Sink… rise! Breathe out! Breathe in! Sink… Take seagrass, wind seagrass up.

Carry seagrass ball. Rise! Breathe out! Float half-out, clutch ball.

Eat seagrass ball. Snap! Snap!

‹Not fish. Fish later; seagrass now.›

[I can always catch fish later, anyway.]

What? Metal, on water. Man human, old. Sees!

«Hide!»

Down.

Man human saw. Can't change that.

[He might not believe what he saw. Even if they search, they won't find me.]

Lake... not home. Not deep enough. Only fish, little shell-turtles, swimming reptiles. Too small. Definitely can't change that. Can stay a time.

‹Until Behjopiray thinks what happens next.›

Preceded by:
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This story is part of a series Succeeded by:
Behjopiray