(no subject)

[sunburned]

If it doubt, he draws. It's always been the way. He first learned as a Midshipman, hanging around the covert, drawing his fllows first and then, when he got up the nerve, the dragons themselves. He must have been a sight, growing out of his coats every third day, sitting huddled into corners with a sketchpad balanced across his skinny knees. He's got passing talent as an artist (even if nobody can read the labels but him). He wishes he had his own folio, the sketches of Temeraire and Iskierka, Emily Roland and the odd one of William Laurence in a moment of relaxation.

But new pages will do, he supposes. In a pinch.

It's more awkward with only one hand, but he manages to get the pad wedged in his lap, solid enough that the lines don't wobble. He's sitting in the shade, watching Toothless bask in the sun. He'll talk to Hiccup and make notes later but, for now, he draws.

Comments

[notsocommon]

The man observing Toothless was new to the island or, at the very least, new to Helen. He didn't seem to be a threat and almost two years on a deserted island had dialed down her natural suspicions quite a bit so Helen wasn't as wary of him as she might have been back in Old City. What she did do was draw closer and find that he was drawing something, drawing Toothless.

"He's a fascinating creature, isn't he?"

[sunburned]

"He's not a breed I'm in any way familiar with," he says, glancing up at her from the pad that he's steadying with a bandaged arm. "Doesn't really look like anything I knew, either. Figure I'll make notes later when I talk to Hiccup."

He realises that he's been rambling and clears his throat, discarding his pad and starting to scramble to his feet.

"Ma'am."

[notsocommon]

Helen lifted a hand and shook her head. "Ma'am is hardly necessary. I'm Dr. Helen Zimmerman, surgeon and, apparently, dragon veterinarian. It's quite the title, isn't it?"

She smiled a bit. "Are you simply new to me or new to the island entirely?"

[sunburned]

"I'm entirely new," he says, straightening up. Another female doctor; everything seemed so strange here, but he was beginning to take it in stride. He sketched her a bow and then offered her his hand.

"Surgeon and a dragon vet?" he asks, grinning. "I've had a lot of contact with both recently."

[notsocommon]

"I can only imagine," Helen said softly. She hadn't wanted to inquire too closely about the amputation, especially if it were recent, but dragons, well, she could talk about those any day of the week. She shook his hand.

"You sound something like home, though. Where are you from exactly?"

[sunburned]

"Newcastle, by birth," he says, his accent slipping thicker, for a moment. "But I've spent most of my time of late in Scotland and the Americas and China. Gibraltar some, too. Most lately in Brazil."

He grins.

"We move, in the service of the crown."

[notsocommon]

"That we do. London, originally for me, and I've been living in Canada for the last little while. It tends to mute things down a bit. My own daughter never even had a proper English accent."

Helen smiled a bit. "So what did you do in service of King and country?"

[sunburned]

He realises that, somewhere in the conversation, he's been impossibly rude - he's neglected to even give her his name.

"Captain John Granby, Dr. Zimmerman. Of his Majesty's Air Corps. With Iskierka."

He stops short of saluting - Aviators haven't ever been really good at the letter of the law.

[notsocommon]

"How splendid, the idea of an Air Corps with dragons," Helen said, grinning at him. "We aren't nearly so enlightened in my version of England. I really wish we were. There are many beautiful and majestic creatures that need to hide in order to keep themselves safe. I've found humanity tends to eliminate what it simply doesn't understand."

[sunburned]

"Maybe it's because dragons can be quite vocal about putting their own cases?" he asks, setting his notebook aside. "Temeraire has been making noises about rights for years."

[notsocommon]

"Is that another dragon, then?"

It was all so fascinating, hearing about a new place and a new culture, one which apparently integrated at least one species of Abnormal into the mainstream.

[sunburned]

"Temeraire? He is. Captained by William Laurence. I was his First-Lieutenant before Iskierka hatched. I'd have happily stayed there my whole career."

He leans back a little, getting comfortable. "He's a Celestial. From China."

[notsocommon]

"Oh, you'll have to tell me what that means. Is he red, then? I would assume a dragon from China would be red in color," Helen said, trying not to look like an enamored schoolgirl hanging on Granby's every word.

"We don't have such terminology where I'm from. Not as it pertains to dragons."

[number_unlucky]

It appeared that John Granby had found a dragon--the island's only dragon, who I'd heard about but never actually seen in person. The dragon was sunning himself...herself?...and John was drawing him/her. It was stupid of me to be surprised that he was an artist; god knows any stereotypes I'd had about military people and their personal lives had been thrown out the window a long time ago.

But it still was a little startling. I wandered over, hoping I wasn't disturbing him...or, shit, the dragon.

"Hi, John," I said, perching on a log. "Mind if I sit?"

[sunburned]

"Remy," he says, and he already knows enough about her to know that it's futile getting to his feet; she'll only wave it off. He does pause in his drawing though, smiling up at her.

"Of course I don't mind," he says, nodding. "I haven't seen his breed before It's almost like being at home."

Not Iskiera, not close. But something, at least.

[number_unlucky]

I smiled back, settling in a little more as I saw that I was welcome. Looking out at the dragon (really kind of adorable for a dragon, this one), I said, "Yeah, he's not exactly my experience of dragons either. I mean, what I'd expect from a dragon, it's not like I see dragons around at home. Not that that's a bad thing, just different."

Glancing over, I flicked my gaze across his paper. "You're very talented. Self-taught?"

[sunburned]

"Yes," he says, nodding, looking down at the sketch in his lap. "Years of practise. There isn't always a lot to do in the Covert. So you find what you can." He smudges a line with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm no master."

[number_unlucky]

"Sometimes that's better," I said, and moved over a little bit so that I could see the detail. I didn't want to get in his personal space, just have a closer look. "Mastery usually ends up looking too perfect, in my experience. You seem to have got him," I gestured towards the dragon, who made a sleepy humphing noise as he settled back from a stretch, "down right."

[sunburned]

He tilts his pad so that she can look at it better. It is a good likeness; it's nice to know that he hasn't lost his touch.

"I miss my old book," he admits. "I've not one sketch of Iskierka here."

[number_unlucky]

I smiled softly, then frowned in thought as an idea came to me--better than drawing from memory. Or maybe worse, considering the nature of the island's little treats. "You might get it, someday," I admitted to John. "Things from the past seem to turn up at random."

[sunburned]

"I've been told about this," he says, nodding, studying the drawing in his lap. "I was told that Iskierka might arrive, one day. Stranger things have happened."

[number_unlucky]

"Wa...Far, far stranger things," I admitted. "So maybe you'll be lucky, and see her again. Or maybe you'll get your book. It's a complete crapshoot." Whatever it would be, chances were good it'd be painful, but I wasn't going to say that.

[sunburned]

"That is...not a word I know," he admits, grinning. He glances at Toothless, adding another line to the drawing.

"Tell me - is there anything about this place that I absolutely must know?"

[number_unlucky]

Shit. Now I had to remember what the hell crapshoot actually meant in a literal sense. I paused for a minute, maybe looking shifty, then said, "It means random. Roulette--what you'll get seems to be a roll of the dice, and not always good."

Clearing my throat, I added, "And there are lots of things that you must know...but I don't know what you've been told. The best way to explain is to say that this place likes to fuck with your mind, and there's not a more delicate way to put it."

[sunburned]

"Crapshoot," he echoes. "I like it. It's...succinct." He listens carefully, shading meticulously as she talked.

"Language like reminds me of someone I know," he says, grinning. "How does it f-..." He grinned broader, shaking his head. "Can't say it in the presence of a woman. How?"