#alert! big fucking bioweapon of a dragon has a sippy

[randomwriteronline]

@mcnixie i wrote a second one as a bonus (and apology)

special thanks to @ingo-ingoing-ingone for making me rotate kyurem n emmet in the microwave of my brain and @insane-control-room for figuring out what would be the best dish for the situation

The clicking started much sooner than last time. It started loudly, before the muted sound of human steps could fully reach its hardly functioning ears, and it allowed it to dull its aggression into a general wariness.

Kyurem did not look at him as he approached quietly, slowly, clicking his tongue at steady intervals. He stopped walking when the massive husk shifted and began lowering its body as though getting into a battle stance; instead, much to his surprise, it simply tucked its massive legs a little closer to its torso as it laid down even if still notably tense.

Emmet clicked again, a little louder and much quicker, without moving an inch. He hadn’t expected to be almost welcomed into its like that.

A chilling growl rattled through the chasm, covering the ground before the maw in frost.

Ah. Of course.

The human resumed his slow calming chanting, taking equally slow rhythmic steps forward as he played with the things he was holding onto. Even when he was so terribly, exhilaratingly close to the dragon, it did not in any way turn its head to take him in - a sign which meant it was at ease with him.

He laid out the large bowl as close to the muzzled maw as possible. Taking care to keep clicking his tongue, and to move as slow and silently as possible, he uncorked the thermos and poured part of its contents.

Even with such terribly damaged senses, Kyurem picked up the smell.

Emmet watched it turn blindly towards the ceramic on the cold ground, grunting quietly what should have been a few cautious sniffs; it carefully dipped the icy tip of its muzzle into the warm liquid with a tentative motion and remained perfectly still for what felt like hours.

Then it took a sip that drained half the bowl.

A low rumble reverberated through the cold hollow body.

With a second sip the warm treat was already finished. The man refilled the dish with more broth, and looked as the horrible beast sank its jagged teeth back in it and drank it all in only two laps before diligently awaiting the next serving.

They repeated this curious ritual until the first thermos was completely empty, and then again, until the second one was too, and then Emmet absentmindedly gazed with his cheek pressed against the cold rough skin at Kyurem as it licked and scraped the ceramic for any more warm droplets left in the bowl like any other domesticated well-loved pokémon would have done while whistfully wishing he’d prepared a third one.

This entire situation was...

Awfully surprising.

Who knew the same terrifying, cold, barely capable of feeling beast that had held the region hostage in its own freezing cage happened to apparently have a soft spot for a little too salty vegetable soup.

His warm sigh condensed on the cold scales. No thoughts, no worries plagued him at that moment. A comfortable emptiness enveloped him.

If he could have brought a pot and fire, and grown produce down here... Maybe he would have remained like this, last priest of a long gone Dragon, sacrificing vegetable broth to its shell to appease it. The idea wasn’t necessarily bad. In that moment it was to a new leaf to turn to like any other. A change of pace: stillness instead of constant movement, quiet instead of screaming rails, loneliness instead of passengers stuffed into cars like sardines. Pretty radical for an early midlife crisis but he couldn’t find any complaints about it.

Ah, but it would have grown boring.

Eating the same thing every day.

“Have you ever been to the sea?”

The pokémon growled without any real aggression.

An old memory, maybe. Devoid of color or smell or taste.

Hm.

“I’ll make you seafood soup next time.“

Unless he was imagining things - which he likely was - the grumbled reply seemed to be looking forward to it.