Path of Dragons 17 - Chapter 44 - The Possibility of Friendship (Patreon)

“That’s just creepy.”

“I think it’s kind of cute,” said Palikina, her voice small.  Like she was afraid drawing too much attention, even when speaking. 

Gunnar cut his eyes in her direction.  The dragon was pretty enough – at least in her human form – but there was something unsettling about her.  Despite spending most of her time lurking in the shadows, she had taken great pains to adhere to a very specific style.  The colorful streak in her black hair, the wispy skirt and ripped tights, and the heavy makeup around her eyes seemed to have been pulled straight out of the alternative playbook.

From what he understood, she hadn’t always dressed like that.  But someone had clearly had an influence on her.  Probably unintentionally, because Palikina didn’t really have any friends from Earth.  Instead, she probably found that style by looking over someone’s shoulder.

But it fit her.

And Gunnar liked it.

Then again, he’d always been a sucker for that kind of girl.  He’d even gone through a short goth phase back in high school, back before he’d committed to joining the marines.  After that, he’d adopted his normal, clean-cut appearance, but he had always gravitated towards the girls who seemed a bit…unique.

That was a charitable way of putting it.

Others had referred to his previous girlfriends as crazy.  Damaged.  Batshit insane.  And in some cases, they were probably right.  Certainly, none of those relationships had been built to last. 

But while they did?  Gunnar was more than happy to put up with their issues.  Or maybe the presence of those issues was the only reason they were willing to deal with him in the first place.  After all, he wasn’t entirely normal either.  Not even close.

And Palikina?

She seemed like the perfect mirror for his own preferences.  More often than not, she remained hidden, just as he could usually be found isolated in one of the towers as he acted as overwatch for the entire Vengeance. 

Was it love at first sight?

Gunnar didn’t believe in that kind of thing.  But what he did believe in was attraction, and Palikina certainly had his attention.  At least enough that he began to wonder what it would be like to couple with an actual dragon.

Those thoughts were distracting enough that he almost forgot about her remark.  But it wasn’t long before the sight before them drew his attention back to the oddity that was Callux playing with a collection of fungal tendrils.

“I think we have very different ideas about the meaning of the word cute,” he remarked. 

“Maybe,” she admitted, a little too quickly in his estimation. 

“You don’t have to agree with me.”

“I know.”

Gunnar just shook his head.  She clearly had issues with attention.  And probably with people, too.  The best way to get her to open up was to take things slowly and show that he wasn’t a threat.  Maybe she would start to trust him a little more.  Or failing that, grow a little more comfortable.

Instead, he squatted on a low rise, watching the scene unfold before him.

By anyone’s reckoning, the cavern was extraordinary.  That Elijah had built it all on his own was a massive accomplishment.  Gunnar had visited Fungee’s cave – stupid name, but that fit the odd Druid well enough that he no longer questioned it – and he had to admit that he saw the resemblance. 

The stone monoliths were the most obvious structural similarities, but the general design was close enough that Gunnar could easily follow the layout.  What he had more trouble with was the wilderness that had grown around the Druid-made structure.

It wasn’t really made of plant life.

Nor was it entirely fungal.

Instead, it was something stuck between those two organisms.  Probably a new form of life altogether, at least according to Earth’s biology.  The result was an entirely alien ecosystem where everything was part of a whole, but still separate enough that some organisms fed off of others.

It was like self-mastication.

Only, not.

Gunnar had difficulty making sense of it, but then again, he’d barely passed high school biology.  So, that wasn’t entirely unexpected.  However, he possessed a sneaking suspicion that even if he’d gone on to college and obtained a doctorate in mycology, he’d have trouble making heads or tails of what he saw.

Complicating matters was the orc.

Or dragon.

Or whatever else was inside that kid.  At times, Callux acted just like Gunnar would expect an orcish child to act.  That was to say, aggressively.  But then, he would wave a hand and one of the fungal tendrils would start dancing to his tune.  Or he’d point at something and say, “C-oo-ook?” in that frighteningly innocent tone.

He’d added a couple of other words to his vocabulary, like “Liji,” meant as an approximation of Elijah’s name.  He’d mangled a few more words, but most of them were at least recognizable. 

Which wasn’t really natural, considering the child was only about six months old.  Maybe a year, if Elijah’s casual relationship with timekeeping was taken into account.  Whatever the case, Callux was far more advanced than that short life indicated.  Not only was he much larger than any one-year-old Gunnar had ever seen, but he’d already begun to create complex thoughts.

Maybe human infants did the same at that age, but Gunnar didn’t think they were quite as developmentally advanced as Callux.  In fact, aside from his verbal deficiencies, Gunnar would have put the kid at the level of a five or six year old. 

There were gaps in that assessment, though.  He just hadn’t experienced enough of the world to keep up with his development.  He was trying, though. 

At present, he was dancing with a few waving tendrils.

If it could be called that.  To Gunnar, it looked more like an upright seizure, spastic and entirely unpredictable.  If Callux wasn’t clearly having the time of his life, he might’ve been worried for the child’s safety.

But then again, Elijah was sitting nearby.

He was lost in whatever he was doing to the environment, as he had been for much of the time since they’d arrived.  Who knew that altering the very nature of life could be so boring to behold?

To Gunnar, it looked like Elijah was just sitting there doing nothing.  But his ethereal senses, as imperfect as they were, suggested the movement of vast amounts of energy.  Where had it come from?

No idea.

He just recognized when something was far above his pay grade.  He was just a shooter, after all.  Not a mage.

The trip so far had been characterized by long stretches of boredom with tiny bursts of action – so nothing out of the normal for him.  He’d killed seventeen threats, most of them before they even knew he was there.  Others had taken multiple shots and coordination with both Miguel and Palikina, but together, they’d managed it well enough. 

He’d netted a couple of levels out of it, which put him ever closer to reaching the deity tier.  Just a few more years, and he’d have a choice to make.

Because increasingly, each of his ability evolutions had featured a clear dichotomy of options. One would send him further down the road he’d been walking since the very beginning, and it would increase his dependence on his weapons.  In some ways, that would hamstring his progress, tying it to Earth’s arms manufacturers’ ability to produce increasingly powerful rifles.

The other branch would take him in an entirely different direction.  Nothing would remove his reliance on his weapons, but with this other option, his power would become more dependent on him.  The cost was lower potential, at least for a while.  Maybe forever.

There was usually a middle-road option, too.  Supposedly, the best of both extremes, but in reality, it was almost always a weaker choice.

“Nothing is ever simple, is it?” he sighed, turning away from the orcish child and the odd Druid who happened to be the most powerful person on Earth.

“Sometimes it is,” Palikina replied.  “People are usually much less complex than they think they are.  Their decisions even less so.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, glancing in her direction.  He didn’t miss those two powerful daggers at her waist.  On anyone else, they might’ve seemed out of place, given her attire.  But on Palikina?  They fit.

“I…I watch people.”

“I know.”

“I see them live their lives,” she went on, glancing away.  “They believe they’re making monumental decisions.  Sometimes, they choose the least likely path, only because they want to be unique.  But it’s usually obvious to anyone who really looks at them.”

She flicked her eyes toward Elijah.  “Not him, though.  That is why he’s so interesting.”

“He doesn’t seem so difficult to predict.”

“On the surface, maybe.  Below that, he is a reflection of deep contradictions and blatant hypocrisy.  There is a consistent throughline, but I have yet to understand it completely,” she responded.  “Fascinating.”

“What about me?” Gunnar asked.  “Am I so easy to read?”

She shrugged.  “You are like me.”

“In what way?”

“You do not like people,” Palikina answered.

“I like some people.”

“But you don’t feel like one of them,” she explained.  “You’re an outsider, always looking in.  Or down.  You want to be one of them, but you know you can never be.”

Gunnar didn’t argue.  Like most people who chose his profession, he’d never really fit in with the so-called normal people.  Sure, he could pretend.  He could act the role he needed to portray.  But the reality of it was that nobody signed up to shoot people for a living unless they had a few personality quirks.

Going back as long as he could remember, that had been the case for Gunnar.  The bottom line was that he was far more comfortable sitting apart from everyone else and just observing.  Or preparing to take a shot.  That trait was a necessary part of his path. 

Other people might see a life of loneliness and isolation.  He saw it as peace.

“What about you?  Are you an outsider too?”

“Of course.  My attunement means –”

“Not your attunement.  You.  Who are you, once all that is stripped away?” he asked, unable to escape the parallels to his own situation.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t you?” he asked.

As far as Gunnar was concerned, knowing oneself was the only real way to grow.  It was no guarantee of success, but at least it meant that stagnation came with an explanation. 

Of course, he wasn’t considering growth in the multi-versal sense.  Rather, he saw it as a personal thing unrelated to experience or levels or cultivation.  It was about becoming a different person.  Hopefully a better one.

“I don’t know,” Palikina repeated.  “I suppose I am still trying to understand myself and why I do the things I do.”

“Let’s break it down into something more manageable.  What do you like?  More than anything else, what gives you joy?” he asked.

“I…I like puzzles.  Riddles.”

“What else?”

“I like progression.”

“Who doesn’t?  Keep going.”

She smile slightly at that. “I like belonging without being the focus.  People who see me as a friend, but not their only connection.  I enjoy sitting in the corner of the booth and watching Imal and Okar argue about who’s stronger, mages or Warriors, and knowing that they’re both wrong.  I like…I like it when Bogoni tries to mediate and fails miserably.  I like Furyo thinking that every problem has an identifiable solution.  I like…I like my friends.”

“Everyone likes their friends.”

“I…I have never had any.  Not before the Bound Sky.”

“How about me?  Any chance I could be your friend?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Gunnar echoed with a slight smile.  “I’ll take that.” 

And he would.  Whether or not that friendship blossomed into something else was anyone’s guess.  He hoped for romance – short or long-term, he wasn’t picky – but he would be satisfied with a simple friendship. 

He believed it would be good for both of them.

Perhaps there would be more to the expedition than watching an odd orc child, a weird fungus, and an even stranger Druid.