It was a rainy day back then. I didn't know why I was there. Those days I didn't care...or at least I don't recall much. Logically, I could do nothing. So I didn't. They left the boy lying there in that crumbling tunnel. I watched it all from under my cloak. None had seen me, or more accurately, noticed me. I wasn't invisible but I had a way to hide my presence through my will. Back then, I was merely watching the world. I had abilities, but I had yet to find a direction. I had taken the name of chaos.
I witnessed this kidnapping. A dragon with the voice of a child taken by hired guards, and the unfortunate circumstance of the boy who wandered this way. The dart they shot I knew to be a mild tranquilizer. However, they had his face and would be back for him. During that time, dragons were rare and possessed qualities the industries exploited. Dragons were raised in captivity to provide many services for these entrepreneurs. The younger the better, as they could be brainwashed into slavery and thus remain in their cages without locks. These "willing" dragons also helped keep other dragons from escaping. But that voice wasn't that of a dragon. And these men were not working for mere top-hats.
The rain slowed. The armored vehicle had long driven off. I decided to look at the boy in the tunnel more closely. My boots splashed through the puddles. I took some joy from that. I could be quiet if needed, but now there were sun rays stabbing through the branches of trees, and birds were beginning to sing about it. The entry to the tunnel was a dark shadow in a bright happy setting, which made it all the more interesting. I removed the hood of my heavy cloak when I stepped into the underpass. The boy was slumped against the wall, face squished on his shoulder, mouth agape complete with drool. His eyes weren't quite closed. He was a looker, but I could tell he had a grudge against the world, and with an aura like that, it's easy to drive people away. It's similar to that "invisibility" technique I told you about earlier.
I turned and considered my appearance in a puddle. My grey cloak covered my body completely. It was heavy and comfortable. My face had no markings. My skin was porcelain, as a distant friend often remarked with affection. My hair was cut to the nape of my neck and some had covered my face. My expression was flat. It was easy to conceal emotions. I had no direction, no desire, so everything before me was a discovery. It was never with elation or despair. I have found it is much easier to travel through life in neutrality.
Did I need to do something here? Were they coming back for this human? The dragon they took was definitely more than dragon, and I had a burning curiosity.
I went to the boy and used my cloak to dab up the drool that had accumulated about his chin. I lifted his face gently and remarked his features. Sharp. Sallow. For his age he already had many wrinkles about his eyes and forehead, I would think from stress and loneliness. I could tell he shaved regularly, and kept hair only on his chin and by his ears. His hair was long and obviously cared for. I couldn't see any knots. I brushed my fingers through a lock of hair draped down his shoulder. So soft and strong. To me, the hair is an expression of our inner selves.
His eyes fluttered open. His eyelashes were long, elegantly surrounding deep amethysts looking directly into my own eyes. He didn't retract or startle. He sat up straight and yawned, wiped his mouth, and said with a smirk, "Did I miss something fun?"