[Introduction] The apocalypse is canceled until I say so

[boysundering]

Inter-dimensional travel was never pretty.  Damian had read reports of being sucked into an alternate reality where everything that didn't matter was the same and the few things that did were altered in some key, disturbing fashion.  And considering his line of work, he had always figured it would only be a matter of time until he experienced the

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[needsmoarshiny]

This post is clearly lacking in 30-foot childish dragons. Or at least Iskierka thinks so.

Should Damian be exploring outside, looking for an exit, perhaps, curled on one of the side longs is a dragon, resplendent with scales of red and purple, covered in spines, steaming pleasantly and, at the moment, sleeping. She is quite comfortable, although she would insist that a pavilion would be much appreciated. Should she be approached, however, it would not take much to wake her.

[boysundering]

Damian did spend much of his time searching for exits, positive he would find a way back home. He had to. He'd learned how it worked here, how time had frozen around them, which meant no one was looking for him. (He did not admit to the ache that rose in his throat.) It was up to him and everyone else was complacent about it, he just wouldn't show them the way out when he finally found it.

And then finds something else. Something fantastic, impossible, beautiful, terrifying. For a moment, Damian is only an eleven year old, not Robin and not an assassin. An eleven year old approaching a dragon. Staring, mouth open wide, forgetting caution in his haste to get closer. Maybe touch a scale.

[needsmoarshiny]

Iskierka opens one golden eye when Damian is within five or so feet of her, and regards him with very little concern or surprise. "Hello," she says, after a moment's pause. "I am glad you are admiring me, as I am very good to admire, but it is often considered polite to wake someone rather than staring at them as they rest, I think."

She sounds almost...prim. Her voice slightly accented, flavored British but a touch of something else underneath. A trace, probably, of her Turkish heritage.

[boysundering]

Damian's face heats although neither his coloring nor expression change. I wasn't admiring you, he opens his mouth to say, but he shuts it a moment later, because this is a dragon. He knows power when he sees it. For all his arrogance, Damian knows how to treat power.

He inclines his head, just barely, before standing straight again and folding his arms over his chest. "Next time I'll wake you," he mutters. Although he's sure he's heard an expression about never waking sleeping dragons.

[needsmoarshiny]

Iskierka lifts her head off the ground and regards Damian with a touch of keen, reptilian curiosity and looks more than a little pleased. She has come to expect appalling rudeness and it is always good to meet someone who knows how she ought to be properly treated. "Good. There are many people here who are terribly impolite, but that does not mean that you should be also."

[boysundering]

"Courtesy is for the weak," Damian mutters, already taken off guard by his own respect. And, well, the dragon. There's a dragon. A dragon talking to him.

[needsmoarshiny]

A dragon who doesn't seem terribly pleased by that particular response, judging by the way her yellow eyes narrow, slightly. "Or for those who are not dragons and members of the Aerial Corps," says Iskierka. "And I do not think you are a dragon."

[boysundering]

"Obviously not." Tt. Can't she that? Although Damian supposes he can take it as a compliment. It would be . . . interesting to be a dragon. (Grand, fantastic, out of a storybook.)

[needsmoarshiny]

Iskierka snorts a puff of steam and tips her head to the side, regarding Damian a little more coolly. "And who are you, then? Isn't it customary to introduce yourself to a stranger?"

[boysundering]

Damian tilts his own head to the side, mimicking this gigantic, fascinating creature. "What about you? You have not introduced yourself."

[needsmoarshiny]

"I live here," Iskierka states proudly. "You are clearly a stranger, if you have not seen me before. But if you like - I am Iskierka, of the Aerial Corps of Britain. My captain is John Granby and I am the only firebreather of the British Isles."

[boysundering]

"Perhaps because there are no firebreathers on the British Isles? No Aerial Corps, certainly." At least not in his dimension, but Damian would rather sound certain and wrong than unsure and possibly correct. Of course, he doesn't have much experience in being wrong. Or so he believes.

[needsmoarshiny]

Iskierka snorts a cloud of steam. "Do not be absurd. Perhaps not on your British Isles, but on mine there certainly are, and mine are certainly the less silly of the two. I daresay I do not understand how you think to manage anything without the help of dragons."