In which I have the chutzpah to tryand fit more emotion in a ficlet than Paolini can in a whole book
Like Eragon? Hated it? Never read/listened to it? This fic may be for you anyway.
read: Please please give this a chance, friendslist. Don't be biased just cause Paolini/the canon stinks. D :
A couple things of note: in our (read: ihrketahyl's and my) fanon, Wrend is Morzan's (female) dragon. Similarly, we envision Saphira-the-first (Brom's dragon) as blue and female, mainly because Paolini's a dolt and that'll probably end up being the way canon'll have it.
For the fortunate uninitiated: Bascially, colorful dragons closely telepathically bonded with human riders in typical fantasy setting. Immortal jedi knightsdragon riders rule for thousands of years of peace, spread hippy love and education and so on, before abruptly and gloriously being destroyed by their (evil) own, who raise an (evil) empire in their wake. Future Wise Mentor Brom's dragon is killed by the Sith evil dragon-riders, including his personal hero, Morzan. All is suspiciously similar to the backstory of the Star Wars universe.
Takes place years before canon, way waaay in backstory-land.
Warning for stream-of-consciousness and non-explicitly-described-but-present gruesome
There is blood on the ground and on his hands and in his hair and on his face mixing with the tears and the mud and the snot and the blood, streaming down his face, there is blood (their blood)
in his mouth and flying through the air, raw-red, where sapphire hide is pierced to reveal a scarlet they, neither of them, ever suspected, where greedy mouths and white fangs drink down c r i m s o n and Saphira’s bellows and shrieks rend the air
and there’s blood under his nails where he (they) struggles and shrieks and fights, mad-blind, against the older Riders, the Wyrdfell, the Wyrdfell, who hold him there, limbs shaking while they are devoured from apart and
his blind eyes rolling fall on something, someone moving, coming up the hill, a flash of red, it’s Morzan, it’s Morzan here to help sure to help please please help and something
something changes, in the air and in their eyes and the hands on him are a little weaker or he’s a little stronger and he breaks free, dragging himself over to his friend
- Saphira screams higher, a cry like a nestling, chirping, chirping from her as together (they) feel something stretching, s t r e t c h , and a snap -
and
gets (falls) down on his knees (because he can’t feel his feet, they can’t feel their feet)
and wraps his fingers in Morzan’s shirt, begs
Help us! Please! Help us!
the scream in his throat gone long, stretched-out and young and he sees, he sees the look in Morzan’s eyes change, go soft and distant, like memory, for a moment
and then Wrend stretches out her neck, long, snakelike and takes a big bite
read: Please please give this a chance, friendslist. Don't be biased just cause Paolini/the canon stinks. D :
A couple things of note: in our (read: ihrketahyl's and my) fanon, Wrend is Morzan's (female) dragon. Similarly, we envision Saphira-the-first (Brom's dragon) as blue and female, mainly because Paolini's a dolt and that'll probably end up being the way canon'll have it.
For the fortunate uninitiated: Bascially, colorful dragons closely telepathically bonded with human riders in typical fantasy setting. Immortal jedi knightsdragon riders rule for thousands of years of peace, spread hippy love and education and so on, before abruptly and gloriously being destroyed by their (evil) own, who raise an (evil) empire in their wake. Future Wise Mentor Brom's dragon is killed by the Sith evil dragon-riders, including his personal hero, Morzan. All is suspiciously similar to the backstory of the Star Wars universe.
Takes place years before canon, way waaay in backstory-land.
Warning for stream-of-consciousness and non-explicitly-described-but-present gruesome
There is blood on the ground and on his hands and in his hair and on his face mixing with the tears and the mud and the snot and the blood, streaming down his face, there is blood (their blood)
in his mouth and flying through the air, raw-red, where sapphire hide is pierced to reveal a scarlet they, neither of them, ever suspected, where greedy mouths and white fangs drink down c r i m s o n and Saphira’s bellows and shrieks rend the air
and there’s blood under his nails where he (they) struggles and shrieks and fights, mad-blind, against the older Riders, the Wyrdfell, the Wyrdfell, who hold him there, limbs shaking while they are devoured from apart and
his blind eyes rolling fall on something, someone moving, coming up the hill, a flash of red, it’s Morzan, it’s Morzan here to help sure to help please please help and something
something changes, in the air and in their eyes and the hands on him are a little weaker or he’s a little stronger and he breaks free, dragging himself over to his friend
- Saphira screams higher, a cry like a nestling, chirping, chirping from her as together (they) feel something stretching, s t r e t c h , and a snap -
and
gets (falls) down on his knees (because he can’t feel his feet, they can’t feel their feet)
and wraps his fingers in Morzan’s shirt, begs
Help us! Please! Help us!
the scream in his throat gone long, stretched-out and young and he sees, he sees the look in Morzan’s eyes change, go soft and distant, like memory, for a moment
and then Wrend stretches out her neck, long, snakelike and takes a big bite