Misha didn’t have to look for long to find a little stone pagoda. At first, he’d worried that sticking around here would an running into people (not a good idea in his dragon form, and likely an even worse idea in his naked human form) but from the look of the thing and the place around it, not a soul had been here in decades.
There were layers and layers of moss growing on the curled corners of the roof and the feet of the pillars were soot black with lichen. Crawling over the stone seats under the pagoda’s modest roof were a sea of vines that Misha took a mont to claw back to let Bran sit down. While the journey here hadn’t been difficult for Misha, it had been difficult for Bran and his bare feet, so Misha had told him to ride on his back.
Bran leaned over then slid down the dragon’s side then jumped up onto the stone seat. He spun around then grinned at Misha and the dragon’s heart lted. He was worried - absolutely worried sick - about Bran, but this version of him was too adorable.
The rain was coming down harder now so Misha shook himself off first before stepping in and curling up under the protection of the pagoda. Bran stepped down from the chair and used the hem of his shirt to help dry Misha off.
Misha had been surprised to learn Bran was twenty-six, he acted younger than that, so he’d thought it made a lot of sense when Bran told him about his three ’lost years’, but the Bran now was acting like an even younger child.
Around the age of the children Misha had seen in that vision when he’d touched the sword and cut his mouth on it way back when. And then there were those voices he’d heard when opening the instrunt case after Athyst told him that the sword was a demon blade.
Those voices had wished for blood as well.
Was Bran now possessed by the sword? But why? Hadn’t that boy stolen the sword and taken it far away? Misha hadn’t seen him carrying it earlier when he’d broken in the flat.
The dragon silently watched as Bran started to play with the fluffy tuft at the end of his tail. Normal, adult Bran also liked to play with his tail. Perhaps this Bran was more of a regression than a possession and that thought sowhat cald Misha’s rattling brain.
If this was just a regression, then, maybe, he could get Bran back again.
The problem was that ’maybe’.
Unfortunately this was clearly outside of Misha’s abilities and he knew better than to ss around with sothing like this but he still had to do sothing.
And as always seed the case, the only thing Misha could do was swallow down his pride and ask for help.
But who could he ask?
Helen and Tuesday were obviously options but he had no idea how to contact them - it was always they who stumbled upon him. Perhaps, if the neighbours reported a disturbance at the flat, Helen would get dispatched to check it out. A bit of a long shot, but possible, thought Misha.
For Tuesday, well, her lab was still in disarray, but then there was Xu Yidi, wasn’t there? Tuesday had even said to contact him if the need arose. But, like usual, the question was ’how’? Misha had his phone number (sowhere...) but no phone to use to call and he had yet to spot a public telephone since arriving in the city.
It seed like the only option was for him to hit the road.
Misha looked down at Bran who was now sitting in the centre of Misha’s coils and staring up at the underside of the roof. He noticed Misha looking at him and smiled.
"Blood?"
Misha sighed and rested his jaw on top of Bran’s head. He also had to think about feeding this little vampire sothing other than blood. As far as he could rember, Bran still hadn’t eaten anything since dinner the night before.
Unhappy with having his head pressed down on, Bran shuffled out from under the dragon then rustled around in his pockets. After a few monts of searching, he pulled out his hands and held out two handfuls of random detritus.
"Blood?"
Are you trying to trade?
Bran nodded.
Well, when you ask so nicely... Misha transford back into a human and took the items from Bran who grinned and reached for Misha’s hand. "Wait," said Misha quickly. "We have to change positions." He sat and patted his shoulder. "Bite here instead."
"Blood," said Bran then dropped down next to Misha and bit into the flesh on his shoulder.
The sensation was still oddly sexual, but at least it was not as extre when it had been fingers that the vampire was sucking on. Misha quickly looked away and decided to focus one-hundred percent on Bran’s stash of pocket-derived treasure.
Unlike so people Misha knew, the contents of Bran’s pockets wasn’t all that exciting. There was a stick of gum (still carefully wrapped and intact), a lollipop (also wrapped up though it looked like it was starting to lt), three paperclips (one was too crushed to be used for its original purpose), and a stubby pencil (whose tip was broken). For the larger items, there were two pieces of cloth to clean glasses (sothing that wasn’t all too relevant since his glasses had gone missing again), and a wad of crumpled paper.
Misha looked through each one of these things, then finally ca to the paper. He smoothed it out and discovered that it was actually two pieces of paper that had been squashed together. He now picked these apart and saw that these were the ssenger birds that Athyst had helped deliver to Bran.
Misha glanced at Bran who was still drinking. He had his eyes closed and seed to be enjoying himself.
Misha blushed and quickly turned back to the letters. He felt a little bad about butting his head into Bran’s personal matters but he really needed sothing to distract him right about now.
The first letter took Misha by surprise. It was from Tuesday and said, in no uncertain terms, that sothing was up with when and where he, Misha, was born. No record? He’d have to ask Bran what the full implications were of that once he was better, but it sounded pretty serious. How much of his life was a lie?
Setting that aside, Misha turned to the other letter, hoping it would be less headache inducing.
It was. Kind of.
Unlike the one from Tuesday, the letter from this ’Malcolm Best’ went on and on about how Bran had better see his aunt and get her to help fix him up as soon as possible so that he could get back and continue helping with his research. Misha felt rather annoyed at this Malcolm for wanting to monopolize Bran so much, but he realised that the ssage contained sothing far more important: that Bran’s aunt wasn’t just good with magic and owned at least one flat, she also knew how to help Bran.
Misha folded up the letters and tucked them into Bran’s pocket.
That decided it. Misha’s top priority wouldn’t be to find Helen or Tuesday or Xu Yidi or whoever, it would be to find Bran’s aunt. Apparently he was long overdue whatever it was that she was to help him with. Perhaps that’s what had caused this current problem.
Misha patted Bran on the head then pulled his shoulder away. Bran made an unhappy sound but didn’t fight to continue drinking. Instead, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand leaving a line of red. Misha frowned and licked his own thumb and used that to clear away the blood.
"Feeling better?" he asked.
Bran nodded.
"Alright, that’s good." Misha took a breath. "I think I need to head back to the flat. We need to find your aunt but I have no idea how to find her, unless you do...?"
Bran stared at him, unblinking.
"Okay. I guessed not. Okay, so I need to fly back to the flat to see if there’s an address for her or sothing, and I need you to stay here, can you do that?" Misha carefully watched Bran’s face. "I’ll let you drink more blood once I get back," he added.
"Okay," said Bran with a serious nod.
The little brat... "Alright, I’m off then. Be careful, alright? And hide if you see anyone coming. Anyone who’s not , I an."
"Okay."
"And stay under the pagoda to keep warm. I’ll bring back so more clothes for you, but it’s best if you don’t get sick."
"Okay."
"And food, I’ll bring so food too." Misha stepped out into the rain and transford. It was useful having scales. They kept him warm and toasty even when it was raining. Can you still hear my thoughts? Misha directed at Bran.
Bran nodded.
I’ll be back soon.
"Okay."
Misha couldn’t think of anything more to think so he didn’t and instead jumped and flew up to the clouds, leaving Bran far down below.
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