Narien's Bonding

He'd walked inside, waited, and the next thing he knew was staring down the large, majestic creature. It sat down in front of him, resting its head against its paws, and opened its mouth ever so slightly. Somewhat to his surprise, its voice was soft and quiet. Low, but oddly light and feminine. "Who are you?"

He opened his mouth, but stopped. Something in her tone of voice told him that she wasn't just asking for his name and age. Her glowing white eyes stayed trained on his face, reading it impassively. The black-haired man stared back, trying to read her, instead. What did she want to hear? She spoke again, an easier question this time. "What is that scar?" For a second, his lips twitched upwards in an automatic smile, and he was about to respond dismissively, when she asked him another question. "Are you going to lie to me?" It was a childish phrase, but she didn't say it like a child would. It was more like she was really just curious.

The smile disappeared, and he gave her another, long, silent look before finally, finally responding. With the truth, much to his own surprise. "I received it from a piece of broken glass, during a fight."

The dragon blew a soft draft of warm air from her nostrils, flowing over him. "There is another mark on your wrist, as well." She noted. "What is it?"

He didn't even bother looking at it, knowing precisely what the dragon was talking about. "It is a brand - the mark of the slave. It means I belong to someone else, not myself." He clenched his right fist, making the white scar bulge slightly.

"And yet you are here." She said, her voice remaining neutral and quiet. It wasn't a question, but she paused and waited for him before continuing, or perhaps she was merely silent to think. "So, is that who you are, that scar?"

For the second time in so many minutes, he opened his mouth but stopped himself before any words came out of it. This creature was a strange one, but if she was going to share his head with him, there was no point lying, here. "I do not know."

Finally, she lifted her head up off her forelegs and flared her nostrils, as if in satisfaction. "Good." She didn't explain, but leaned her head a little closer, until her muzzle lightly touched his chest. A little disturbed by the contact, he put his hands on her muzzle to push her away, and they formed their bond. The knowledge that flowed into him was astounding, but what was more astounding was the presence of her mind, one with his. He couldn't call it an invasive presence, because it felt so much like a part of him, understanding and processing his entire life without partiality. She filled him with a great sense of calm, and he had to wonder how he'd ever manage to do without it again.