Two months.
That's how long we've been here, in Amallhia.
A lot has happened over those two months. My father went through his contacts and managed to find someone in the black market, who was able to install a new RFID chip into Demetra's arm - a process which I never saw - and help her avoid detection.
I've reconnected with my friends - I had only been gone a month or two when I returned, so it was kind of like a short vacation. So nothing much else happened with me.
But Nightwing...
It's been rough.
She's been trying hard to integrate into human society, but...she's been having a hard time of it. The dragoness has had three meltdowns so far. During the first one, I learned the true details of her past, and that she's always had emotions. During the second, she nearly went back to her castle to remain a shut in for the rest of her life.
And her third...
It's still happening. And it's a heavy one. She said something about killing herself - and then ran away. I've been searching for her for two days now, and with each passing moment I become more and more depressed, scared, and anxious.
We'd grown so close over these past two months...I'd go as far as to say that we're best friends. Who, you know, have sex. A lot.
And her saying that she wants to kill herself, and then dropping off the radar...it terrifies me.
I haven't slept since she left - only small naps. I've barely eaten - only a quick breakfast yesterday and a few snacks - and I sprained my ankle chasing her down the first day.
And my legs ache, so much...and now they've given out, and I'm left leaning against the wall of an alley as I struggle to retain consciousness.
"Nightwing," I breathe, hoping the intonation will find her. I'm desperate now - if she kills herself...
I sigh to myself as I slide down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest. Times like these are when I wonder why I care about her so much. I mean...I just don't understand it. When I think about her, I have the overwhelming urge to protect her - to help her and make her happy. And I know that I said that we've become best friends, but for our situation, I really don't understand how that happened. I mean, if she were to kill herself...I'd be free.
No more shedding skin, no more emotional outbursts, no more fearing for my life whenever I try to joke around with her...
I hang my head in defeat. I need to stop beating around the bush - I know exactly why I care so much, and why I won't let her die.
I love her.
Not a romantic love, mind you - but not platonic either. It's also not the kind of love you share with someone - I wouldn't tell her that I love her, because it's not that kind of love.
It's hard to put into words, but I guess I'll try. Have you ever had a best friend, of the same gender as you, and you've realized that you love them - despite not being homosexual? Like...you value them, a lot. And you cherish them, and you realize that your life is better because they're in it. It's kind of like that. Of course, for me, there's the added dimension of sexual attraction, but it's pretty much the same idea: I love her as a best friend. Not platonically, but not romantically.
I just...I value her. I cherish her. And without her...
I'd probably be crying by my mother's bedside right now.
I swallow back my frustration and tears, and force myself to stand up. My legs shake from exhaustion, but I know that I need to find her.
I need to keep moving.
My next stop is the bell tower on the library - it's where we went when she needed some time away from everything. Maybe she'll be there today - I already checked yesterday, but maybe today will be different.
Climbing up the stairs is exhausting. I ran around most of the city over the past 24 hours, without stopping once. I'm dehydrated, I'm hungry, I'm exhausted...I'm not a healthy guy right now.
Finally, after an excruciating climb up the spiral stairs lined with candles, I arrive at the hatch in the floor of the overlook. I look behind me, at the library that expands for at least a half a mile. I've always loved this view - the silence of pages turning and the gentle rustling of old tomes being sorted, retrieved, and carefully manipulated...it's beautifully relaxing. But that's not what matters right now.
I undo the bolt on the hatch and push it open. Anyone can come up here, so it's not like anyone cares that I'm opening the hatch. We just need to make sure that it's closed behind us.
I push it open, and pull myself up onto the floor of the overlook. The old bell - which is not used anymore, in favor of the bell on the church - stands above me, and at the edge of the tower stands a lone woman. My heart swells as I see her. I drop the hatch, and she turns around, startled by the sound.
She doesn't say anything, and neither do I. I simply grab her, and bodily pull the dragoness into an embrace.
"I was so worried about you," I inform her as I pull my head away so I can look her in the eye. "Nightwing...where have you been!?"
"Hiding," she silently explains. I know that that's all I'll get out of her, so I simply nod and put my chin back on her shoulder, hugging her close as the wind blows past us.
"Come on," I announce after a few minutes, pulling away from her. "Let's get back to to the room."
After our temporary stay in the guest room in the City Hall, my father had us placed into the penthouse room of a hotel - it's beautiful, and huge.
"I want to stay for a while," she announces. "The stars..."
I look out at the sky, and notice that the constellations are especially bright tonight. I hadn't noticed - I was so focused on finding Nightwing...
"Okay," I reply silently. We sit down on the bench in the northernmost part of the overlook, and I wrap my arm around her. She rests her head against my shoulder, and I entwine my fingers with hers.
"It's beautiful," she announces.
"Yeah..."
We sit in silence for almost a half hour. I rub her shoulder, ebbing in and out of consciousness. I'm so relieved that she's okay...
After a little while, she stands up and stretches. "Okay...let's head back to the room," she announces. I nod, but my stomach growls loudly as I stand, and I'm made painfully aware of my crippling hunger.
"Can we...get some food first?" I ask, sheepishly. She smiles, and we go down the stairs together. At the bottom, I wait for her, and offer her my hand. She smiles as she grabs it, and we walk out of the library, hand-in-hand.
We walk through the city, the electric lights the Elves set up for use in the city lighting our walk. Some of the late-night walkers cast glances at us - we've never been seen holding hands in public, but after the past few days...I don't care what people think.
Nightwing has become somewhat of a celebrity in the city. Some people vilify her, as you'd expect, but quite a few people adore her. Partially because of her, ah...proportions, but small children also like her because she's a "nice dragon lady". Of course, she's still not entirely comfortable in the city - and the city isn't very comfortable with her. It's been difficult, as we can see from her meltdowns. Each was set off by something that made her feel more intense emotions than usual - the first happened when people protested her presence, and called her a freak. The second happened when people started swarming her with questions and attention, especially children.
This last one happened because of a new protest, calling for her public execution. She panicked, seeming to forget that she's both a dragon and protected by the city, and said that if everyone wants her dead, she may as well kill herself. After that, she flew through an open window.
I keep a watchful eye out as we walk through the near-empty night-time streets of the usually-congested city. Thankfully, nobody tries anything while we're walking, and I can tell that Nightwing is scared of just that the whole time. It's truly harrowing to see someone as confident as Nightwing scared of what is, in comparison to her, pretty much insignificant.
Eventually, we end up at a restaurant that we'd been to before. The owner and Nightwing are friends, believe it or not - and the owner's daughter is obsessed with Nightwing. It's kind of adorable.
We walk into the softly-lit building, and the first thing we hear is a gasp and "Nightwing!"
I step away from the dragon as the young girl runs up to the dragon. Nightwing smiles as she kneels down to say hello.
"Well, you're out late." I look up and see the owner, a middle-aged woman named Barbara. "Jane, that floor is not going to sweep itself!"
The young girl says goodbye to Nightwing before running back to her work, sweeping her small part of the floor. Nightwing greets the woman, and she leads us to our table in the back of the restaurant, which has a little privacy.
"You look awful, Peter." Despite the lack of a question, it's still a demand for an explanation.
"I haven't slept in two days," I mutter. She releases a huff, resting her hands on her hips as she stares me down.
"Now, why in the world would you do that, young man?"
I shrug, not willing to embarrass Nightwing as I keep her meltdown private. I take a sip from the water she's poured for us, accepting her judgemental glare.
"Don't just shrug - what were you doing for two days? You need to take care of yourself, Peter - you've been eating here every day since you were born, I'd hate to see you drop dead before me!"
I can't help but laugh at that. Barbara is the kind of woman that would get fed up with dying and just keep on chugging, flipping off death the whole time.
"Now, where's your friend - with the arm?"
"She's sick," I explain. "Stomach virus. She needs to rest."
"Oh, the poor thing...and you're not staying there with her?"
"Well, I would, but..." I trail off with a sigh. Barbara rolls her eyes at me, and keeps on going.
"And why haven't you slept in two days? Were you staying up with her? Are you sick, young man - you need to rest if you are!"
Barbara is about to continue when Nightwing surprises me by gently tapping her on the arm. Barbara looks at her, and the dragon gestures for her to lean over. Nightwing whispers something, and Barbara retreats with a thoughtful nod.
