Beauty in the Sewer

He didn't slow or reply. He kept on going and following the internal map in his head until - still without slowing - his tail lashed to the side and gave the wall a solid thump. Up above, the ladder that until now had been hidden by shadow, dust, and gunk, creaked and rattled down a few rungs. She'd still have to stretch to reach it properly, but the ladder only needed another yank to bring it down the rest of the way. He hoped she remembered to put it back. It was a pain trying to inch around ladders that others forgot to put back up.

The darkness ate him as he turned, delving deeper into the sewers. It had been nice to sit and relax with her, but he still feared discovery, and he still had that nagging suspicion that she had some kind of ulterior motive and would lead to his ruin. As long as she couldn't follow him home, he was safe. These meetings had to remain up here in the higher levels.

But maybe she'd bring more chicken next time...
 
"Oh. Till next time, then."
Off he went. Slinking off into the darkness to god knows where.

It took a jump or two to finally grip the ladder and tug it downwards to climb. Another piece of attire she should invest in was sturdy gloves...The ladder was like the one Claudius had shown her: rusty and, basically, grim. Having to pull it back up wasn't pleasant either. A way out was a way out though, and she should probably get home soon.

She should, but she didn't. Ingrid found herself taking her time with her walk home. She took even more time when someone waved her over.
And even more time when she had to go with them to 'talk something out.'

A lot of time was spent on that talk.

Why, by the time she got home, time was irrelevant to her altogether. No time left for eating, or cleaning, or even getting to her room. There was only time for her to pass out on her couch.
 
The days passed uneventfully, as most days do. He came to look forward to finding Ingrid in the tunnels near the surface and occasionally brought her some trinket he'd found. A couple more watches, a "gold" coin that turned out to be some kind of souvenir, and a few other bits. He kept the bulk of his treasure finds hidden, but he liked to see her reaction to his finds. He enjoyed it when she brought him something, but he never expected it. It was just nice to make a casual sort of trade for the fun of it.

The annoying thing was trying to figure out when she would show up. Sometimes she would present herself at noon. Other times not until well after dark. He came to hanging around in the vicinity and either scavaging while he waited or hunted for rats and other creatures that ended up in the sewers. Once, it was a family of gerbils. Once upon a time, he remembered feeling a bit squeamish eating what had once been a family pet, but then one hungry day, he realized the only thing separating Joey the Hamster from Bob the Wild Weasel was choice. Over in the Dominican Republic, they ate guinea pigs regularly, and in India, the cows were too sacred to touch. Choice as to which to domesticate, that was all. SO, now he ate whatever he found. Except for the dogs and cats, usually. If they appeared healthy, he'd give them a chance to get out and go home. If they were badly wounded or sick from trying to live down here, it was better for them that he put them out of their misery.

He did not know it, but the sewer workers had remarked on numerous occasions how clean the tunnels were of vermin despite how big the city was.

Thursday came. This he knew because of the vague itching under his scales, like lice. Tomorrow was Friday. He waited for Ingrid, rubbing his sides against the walls and growing crankier by the minute. If she was too late, he could not stay. He had given her watches, why was she worse at telling time than he who could not even see the sun? Or read watches as they were too tiny. Still, he waited. And waited. He paced, rubbed, scratched, whined... and waited.

It was well after sundown. He huffed and turned to go. She was not coming. Under his irritation, he was afraid something had happened, but he could do nothing about that, so he grumbled, instead.
 
Just as he turned to take his leave, a telling clunk thundered through the pipes. Followed by heaved gasps for air, as Ingrid leaned against the wall with a dry cough. It wasn't a flattering look to be on the edge of exhaustion. Better that than not show up at all though, right? Ingrid had tried to not acknowledge her fluctuating times of arrival. It was a little hard to ignore it now though, since she was a bit later than usual.

"I-I'm here now! God, I should opt for the Olympics. Running around the city has gotta count for somethin'....Phew..."
Ingrid called out with another wheeze, steadying herself and starting off to try and find where he might be.

"I'm sorry I'm late I---- I had something to, uh....Nothin' much just had to do something. I got you food though!"
 
He huffed and looked her over. She did not look good at all. Not in the pink, as some might say. Still, he growled softly at her, his tail tapping. Maybe he did not have anything else to do, but that did not mean he was happy sitting around waiting for her for a good nine hours.

The itching in his back and sides did not help his mood. He did not want to take that out on her, though. Still...
 
Over the course of their interactions, Ingrid had learned what gestures and sounds meant what. She could tell with 70% accuracy what was being 'said' most of the time. Here though? It was crystal clear he wasn't happy with her tardiness.

Ingrid took her final set of deep breaths, pushing a hand through her hair to keep it out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed red: impossible to miss when slapped onto her 'hospital-patient-pale' skin. She couldn't feel too bad about being late, shown by the lack of any further apologies.

"Pal I'd love to go back to last week where I didn't have any else to do, but I've gotta get back into the swing of being an adult at some point. I need money for rent: some of us ain't cut out for sewer life.
I also need money for food-- Something I'm pretty sure you're thankful for."
At the mention of it, food was provided and held out. She was still leaning against the wall, but more naturally rather than looking on the brink of collapse.
 
Nope, still not happy. He turned away from the offer of food. This wasn't something that could be bribed away. Yes, he supposed she did have responsibilities, but could they not include trying to stick to a regular schedule when meeting him? How hard could that be? If work was nine to five - he only had the Dolly Parton song to go off of with work schedules never having held a job, himself - then why not six or seven to come see him? That would give time for dinner then to walk calmly down the street to the sewer access.

A harsh thread of pain disrupted his thoughts. He growled and flipped his head around. Pearly teeth met black scales with a hissing scratch. Why did it have to hurt and itch so much???
 
"This isn't cheap in the long run, y'know!"
Ingrid retorted at the refusal, crossing her arms with a tight-lipped frown. If he was gonna kick up a fuss and refuse food, she'd stop bringing it! It wasn't an issue to her; just meant she had more money to get food and necessaries for herself. Maybe get herself some new clothes to replace the ones she consistently ruined whenever she made the trek down here. Plenty of things she could spend wasted money on!
Great, now she was in a bad mood. Maybe she should just g-

"Hey-- Hey. What's up with your back?"
That was weird. Mites again? She figured he'd managed to get rid of em. It hadn't been an issue since last week, and that was only for a day! Or, two days, she guessed. She didn't see him on a Friday.
"Have you got something sticking into you? That irritates things, I think.."

Walking forward, Ingrid tried to look at whatever he could be gnawing at before she could check it. He might have some metal or wire stuck between his wings? She wasn't a doctor. Or a vet. Or any sort of medical professional.
 
There was nothing stuck in his scales. He was surprisingly clean for a sewer monster. Instead, his scales rippled spastically. They lay quiet and flat most of the time, then randomly they lifted slightly, creating a wave effect across his body in patches. He growled and shuddered in pain whenever it happened, but there was no visible sign of what could be causing it.

He tolerated her looking for a few minutes then moved away, his growl coming out strangely as he tried to whine at the same time. His back foot came up and scratched at the side hard enough to dislodge a single scale. It fell to the concrete with a quiet tink! tink! noise where it hit. It bounced near Ingrid's foot, gleaming like obsidian, or, more grossly, like a parking lot after a rain.

It was nearly time. He needed to go! He felt a little bad for leaving things as they were, but pain overrode any real sense of guilt. Whining, he turned away and started scrabbling down one of the pipes. He wobbled, back arching as another wave struck. Then he dashed forward, bouncing from side to side as his vision blurred and his coordination went down the drain. Safety! He needed to get safe!
 
It was clean. That was goo-- Bad!! That was bad!! It meant whatever was happening now, was happening under the skin. Or at least under the scales. Were they the same thing? She didn't know, and right now she didn't care. There wasn't a single scare or wound to go off- Everything seemed fine, safe for the convulsions that happened at random.

Ingrid scooped up the scale and shook off any dirt it might've collected from the ground. Didn't lizards shed skin? Was that all this was? Another concerned look towards him suggested otherwise. It probably wasn't supposed to be this stressful.

"It-- It might be irritated because of the glass from the other day! Or just from sewer water. If we find a place that isn't so dirty it might let off for a while.
Oi, wait-- Wait!!!"
There wasn't much time to react when the dragon swung around to disappear down the pipes like he usually did. What was different today is that Ingrid gave (a poor attempt) at chase. She was scared for him, and the adrenaline kicked in before she could reason.

A violent attempt, and an equally valiant failure. He had twice the amount of legs she did. Even so, she kept it up anyway, trying to reason with him as she went.
 
Blood rushed in his ears. Throb. Throb. Throb. It was a steady drumbeat of his life. He'd waited too long. He should have left an hour ago. He should have left and let her think he had not shown up at all. She would have been upset, but this... he couldn't take it! Jaw hanging open slightly, breath coming in harsh pants, he picked up his speed until he was running blindly at full speed, claws scraping carelessly. Only instinct and intimate knowledge of the sewers kept him from running muzzle first into a wall at full tilt. Make it stop!!

He was home. The heavy door squeaked as he all but wrested it aside and fell into the large room. He kicked it closed once again, nearly trapping his tail in the process. Legs shaking, knees buckling, he made it to the center of the room before collapsing. His swimming vision went mercifully dark as his body fought itself and tore itself into a new shape. Pain reached a new level that went beyond physical, and he stopped feeling at all.

For the next two hours, his body lay on the cold stones, unconscious, only breathing as the cool air tickled pale skin.
 
It took time for Ingrid to accept that he'd gotten away. Slowing to a jog, then to a walk, then to not moving at all, Ingrid finally gave up and stopped the senseless running. He was gone. The only indication of another living thing aside from her was the distant clang of metal, which no doubt would have been deafening if she was close.
But she wasn't. She was miles behind.

Not far enough behind to be familiar with where she was, though. Her focus had been solely on keeping up that she hadn't taken note of where she was. She should've been scared, but instead? She got angry. Enough of a tantrum to wind her up so far she'd throw whatever in her hand into the wall; the scale she'd picked up not minutes earlier.
There would have been curses and profanities galore if her shouts had been legible, but they weren't. They were wordless yells of frustration. No point being quiet. It wasn't like he was anywhere around to hear her.


Seconds to minutes, minutes to hours, and eventually Ingrid tired herself out of fury. Now all she had left was hopeless wandering. She'd read scary stories about people dying down in sewers when they got lost...But this wasn't one of those cases! Those sewers were abandoned! These......These were also mostly abandoned.
Oh god.
Oh god fucking damn it.
This wasn't the time to have a panic episode, Ingrid. If she was going to die, she'd die dignified: like an Egyptian skeleton or whatever.
 
He stirred. Then he shivered from the cold. Then he shuddered from the pain shivering caused. He sat up, blinking his eyes into focus before stretching his new frame. The first half-hour of realignment was always the worst. Fading pain niggled here and there as if to remind him of what had happened, and balance was virtually nonexistent until he'd regained his feet. At least now he did not fall as often while trying to remember. The first few times, he had caught his head a couple of nasty blows until he'd learned to be patient. Now he wobbled his way to his nest like an infant to retrieve clothing. Skin was oh so cold down here.

He spent a while reacclimating to his human form then began to walk. There was no destination in mind, and he certainly was not going Up There in daylight hours (though that was still a few hours away), so he walked. There were parts of the sewers he could only access in this smaller form, and he liked to visit them for the novelty of it. Yes, none of this was particularly riveting to the average person, but when one lived in the sewer, one learned to take pleasure where one could.

He had been walking only a short time when he heard the noise. It was like a squeak of a mouse, yet not. He turned toward it, curious. What new creature could be down here? Then he heard it again. No, not a mouse or a creature, a human. A human far off making all sorts of distressed noises. He followed them with a niggling suspicion growing in his breast.

Ah. Ingrid. Of course. She had attempted to follow him and had gotten herself lost. Why had she followed him? He thought back then tipped his head in realization. She had been worried for him. That... was no something he knew how to properly handle. So, for now, he allowed himself a tiny pleased feeling and locked it away for further examination at another date.

She was staring around blankly, a fierce scowl on her features, but he could see the tiny sparks of fear in her eyes even from here. And why not? No one liked the idea of being buried alive. He stood quietly watching her and waiting for her light to catch his presence.
 
Ingrid groaned and buried her face in her hands, the tips of her fingers curling around strands of hair to yank at them. She was mad, upset, and scared, all at the same time. Never a good thing to be. The three main emotions that drove the majority of her actions banded together to make one big mental enemy of asshole-ary.

She'd like to think she would've handled the situation more seriously. To think rationally and consider the situation with care. It would have made her following actions less embarrassing when she would look back on them.

"WHO'S THERE-----oh."
Ingrid jumped to spin around at the most feint noise, arm raised readily to throw the feeble penknife she held in her hands. Fearful green eyes only saw a threat at first. Then focused in to recognise the mystery as her mystery. Claudius, the sewer guy.
"God DAMN it Claudius, please for gods sake say something!! Don't just--- Just stand there and scare the shit out of me!!
 
Claudius' brow furrowed, and he tipped his head to the other side as he studied her. The movement shifted his frumpy hood and revealed the deep scar in his forehead a little more clearly. It looked almost like another wrinkle in his brow with the shadows save for the difference in color.

"You are far deeper than most come without reason," he said quietly once the ringing in his ears from her screech stopped. "You are not here on purpose?"

Hmm, perhaps he should have said something a bit more comforting, but that was a little late now. He would try to follow it up in a second. Even though he had not vocalized his confused concern, it glinted in his eyes. If she cared to look for it in her shaken state.
 
"No. I'm not."
Ingrid faced away from him deliberately while she rubbed her eyes relentlessly, the trembles in her voice attempting to be cleared with a cough or two. Claudius wasn't the one she was angry at. If anything, she was ridiculously glad he was here. It was a shame her gratitude would have to be put off until she could collect herself.

"I followed him. The dragon. He was itching at something, and I thought it was just mites or something fixable, but then it got worse and he ran off-- A-And I went after him and---"
She didn't finish. Each word was more and more shakey, and if she hadn't of stopped herself, she was certain it would have broke. She didn't want to look or sound upset in front of people, and the stress of doing so only made her feel worse. Ingrid had a talent for making mountains out of molehills.

Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest and hunched herself up, still with her back turned but with her head turned slightly to show she was listening.
 
She trembled so much he could see it even in the low light, and he could hear her fighting tears. Even so, she was fighting hard to maintain a strong front in front of a stanger. He understood that.

"You became lost," he finished for her. "There is little more distressing than becoming lost in an unfamiliar place. The... dragon... he will be alright. It happens every week. He suffers for a time, and then it is gone. He hides in safety. As most do when hurting."

Gingerly, he reached out and gave her shoulder a brief, light brush. He meant it like a comforting shoulder pat, but he could only vaguely remember how it was done. Quickly, he backed up to give her space again. He had no desire to crowd her.

I do not usually go up so high in the light, but I can take you close," he mumbled, trying to shrink into his coat. Fabric snagged, and he heard a quiet rip. Sigh. Not again.
 
Every week? That was far from being alright. That was awful. Another thing she'd mull over after she'd calmed down, for sure. Even if it left after a while, that still wouldn't be good. Though, it was a little ironic for her to mentally scold him on putting up with injuries, given her own situation.

The light touch made her flinch for the duration, but after Claudius pulled away, Ingrid's shoulders relaxed temporarily. She really was grateful for the help. He didn't have to put up with her, but he did.

"...That'd be nice, thank you."
The words were no more than a hoarse croak. Ingrid looked back at the sound of fabric tearing, squinting her eyes at the suspicious sound.
"You okay?"
 
"Yes. I apologize. This coat is worn," he said, ducking bashfully. He had another coat, but it was not as nice as this one. Why oh why couldn't he keep things like this from happening? Awkward did not begin to cover it.

Awkardly, he tried to feel the coat to establish where the rip was, exactly. He found a small tear near the back and tried to move it, but the odd angle made the tear worse, and the coat slowly started to pull away from his bare skin. No, no, no! Stop! Please stop!

Despite his inner panic, his outward movements were still slow and deliberate, his fingers delicate as a bird's touch as he tried to sort things out. Finally, he gave up and looked back at Ingrid.

"If you go straight down that tunnel, we may start our journey," he whispered. As long as she stayed in front, she wouldn't notice the barbs emerging from the back of the coat.
 
"Ah. Right."
Ingrid nodded solemnly. Unreliable old clothes plagued her life too. From the looks of things, it appeared to be tearing from the back. That seemed strange to her. Maybe he was one of those people who wear their bags under their coats? Weirdos. He got a pass from being called a weirdo, though.

The instruction for her to go first seemed weird too. Ingrid had been waiting for him to walk ahead and show her the way out. What, did he think she'd stab him while they walked??
"Okay. Stay close, I guess...?"
Ingrid instructed wearily, starting off down the tunnel while glancing back every few seconds to check on Claudius's whereabouts.

Well, she wasn't almost crying anymore. That was a win.
 
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