the thing about dragons

interlude one (II)

in which death really is the next great adventure.

part II

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warnings: death, afterlife, religion, gods (as speaking characters), existential musings, child loss, mental health issues, eldritch fuckeryTM

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Interludes are effectively supplementary materials for ttad. They will expand on worldbuilding and the goings-on outside of Lyra's scope. As of right now I'm not sure if the interludes will be only about Aemma in the afterlife and the worldbuilding relating to the gods, their past, and their reason for bringing Lyra to try to change the future, or if some will take place elsewhere.

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"Is there something on your mind?"

"You're not what I expected."

"And what did you expect?"

"Something less... Kind."

"I can be many things. An old, expected friend, or the greatest enemy. A bringer of respite, or a herald of tragedy. Ultimately, it hinges entirely on the one who dies, how they perceive me. I've been cursed and spat at and sometimes even attacked by many who I greeted. Especially in the wake of Doom. What am I to you?"

"Escape. Relief, from the role I was pushed against my will... Oh."

Balerion nods. There's something sad in those red, slit-pupiled eyes when he looks at her. Aemma supposes that's fair.

○

They get off the boat on one of the shattered isles, lush with a garden full of fruits and vegetables and mostly devoid of flowers. They walk a path fenced on each side with an orchard of trees heavy with nearly-ripe fruit, and Aemma knows most of these fruits. There's apples and oranges and lemons, but she can't help being drawn to a tree with serrated bark and spiky leaves, full of fruit that look like flame, pink at the core and yellow at the tips.

"What is this? I have never seen a tree like this before."

"It's dragonfruit," Balerion tells her. "They grow in much warmer climates than where you lived."

"Is—Is it actually called dragonfruit?" Aemma looks at him, confused. Surely, he's pulling her leg?

"Yes," he chuckles. "You want one? They're ripe."

"I—Uh, is it okay?" she asks, a little startled.

"Of course. She won't mind," Balerion says and reaches to pluck one of the fruits.

"She?"

"Meleys," Balerion says as he digs his claws in the fruit, splits it in two. "Oh, it's the white one!"

Aemma takes one half, and then blinks. "Meleys?"

"Don't worry about it. If anything, just blame me. She never stayed mad at me for long," Balerion says with a cheeky smile and Aemma can't help but huff out a laugh. She looks down at the fruit in her hands, at the white flesh dotted with black seeds. Looks back at Balerion, who flips his half inside out to eat it, and tries to copy him, if clumsily. It's good, the fruit. Sweet but mild, with an interesting texture. She thinks she quite likes it.

○

They find her on her knees in the dirt, elbow deep in rows of bushes full of heart-shaped red fruit Aemma doesn't recognize. She doesn't seem to notice them at all at first, but as they approach closer, she slowly rises to her feet, and turns to face them.