Young Writers Society

Damascus stepped away from the ice on the floor. His head swam- this young shifter's fear was coming off of him in waves, and the dragon seemed intent on capturing him. A loud roar escaped his jaw, and almost without thinking, he lunged at the dragon.

As he leapt, the feline roar gained volume and dropped several octaves. Damascus seamlessly shifted into a dragon himself- shifting, ebony scales and bright red eyes. He hardly registered the bone-deep ache in his joints, focusing instead on guarding the cat underneath the chair.

A blast of ice bursting forth from the onyx reptile's maw met his charge, the frost thickening over the floor to make it more difficult for the shifter to maneuver on foot.

Damascus cautiously stepped closer, careful not to slip, and opened his mouth to test his fire. He aimed the blast down low, not wanting to wound the other excessively without thourougly assessing the situation. At least he melted some of the dangerous ice.

"What do you want with the shifter?" He roared.

"That is none of your concern," the dragon retorts coldly, his turqoise tongue flicking in and out. "This is none of your business. Hand the boy over!"

He mulled a moment over how to respond. If he fought this guest, it was possible that the moderators, or Jane herself, would despell him for interfering. That would leave him helpless- he would only be able to watch from that point on as his companions were left in this miserable situation, and then he wouldn't be of any use to anyone.

Coming to a decision, Damascus morphed into a human figure- a tall, burly man with curly black hair and side burns. His eyes remained mostly the same as he stood in the puddle and gazed at the dragon calmly but fiercely. He raised both hands to show that he wasn't going to fight.

"If you capture the boy, it makes no difference in either of your abilities to escape. Like it or lot, both of you are stuck here in this hotel until you meet the Conditions of Limbo, not your own. So, take him and try to leave- trust me on this, you won't make it far. Are you interested in how to truely escape?" reasoning in an indifferent voice, he hoped that the dragon's mission wasn't to kill the boy, which would make his point irrelevant.

It huffed, the water re-freezing underneath Damascus' feet. After a moment the dragon dipped its head. "Very well," it said, sitting back on its haunches and folding its wings, its spikes laying back down like the lowering hackles of a dog.

"Teamwork." He answered simply. There was really no better word for it- at least, none that would reveal more than he was allowed to disclose. "Ah, you should probably address that bot before it destroys itself."

He was referring to the tablet, who at this point was violently smashing into the dragon's scales, repeating its commands in a shrill tone.

He glanced down at it, slamming it against the wall with a powerful armoured wing before dropping his head, scanning the ground for Fabian, who was still cowering under the chair. He paused for a moment, then his form receded into that of a young man that was 6' 5" in height. He had shoulder-length black hair and pale skin, his build similar to that of a stork - tall, but seemingly all legs and gangly limbs. He didn't look like he could be older than nineteen or twenty, surprisingly young for someone who'd just been hunting down a boy in the form of an ice-summoning dragon - but, then again, appearances could be deceiving. He wore a black suit and a wine purple tie, silver cufflinks, and a chain the same color extending from his pocket and into his vest. A pocketwatch, perhaps? His stance was formal and polite but confident and authoritative. This figure, whoever he was, was used to being in charge.

His still-draconic eyes fell back on Damascus. "Since it seems you are no longer my enemy, I feel I must introduce myself. My name is Cornyx Blackthorne."

His red eyes shone with concealed amusement, and the torn clothes that he had been wearing when he shifted disappeared as he conjured a pristine silver suit.

"Im Damascus Eliviteson."

The sound of Jane clearing her throat sounded through the room, but then fell silent, as if she thought better of what she was going to say.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says, extending his hand.

"Likewise." He shook the boy's hand.

Sevy hesitantly peeked back into the room- all of the roaring sounds seemed to have died down. He glanced at the strange pair of men. The taller one seemed to have the same colorings as the dragon, who was missing, so that wasn't too hard to put together. But the dark-haired one? Sevy had no idea who he was. He hadn't seen anyone else walk into the room.

Damascus looked up and smiled somewhat awkwardly at the winged boy.

"Hello, Sevy. This may come as a shock, but.." he rubbed the back of his neck.

The angel's eyes widened. "Gordon..?" He tried, tentatively.

Fabian slowly stepped out from under the chair, still staring at Cornyx. The young man glanced down at him and his eyes turned black in place of silver. The cat took a step back.

Mothman went to take a step into the room just as Jersey darted down the hallway. There was a loud this as Jersey slammed into the the other cryptid, and the two both went tumbling to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs and groans.

Luckily, it wasn't that hard for Jersey to get himself out from underneath Mothman. He hopped back up onto his feet and looked at the seemingly new occupants of the room. There were two young men in the place of the dragon, and it was the markings that one of them had that clued him into which one was which.

Then there was the name Sevy used for the other.

"Wait," Jersey said, "your cat is a guy and Bob isn't a dragon? What else did I miss? I was just out in the hallway!"

"Well, you didn't miss me," Mothman muttered underneath his breath as he unsteadily stood up.

Cornyx turned to face Jersey. "I'm a demon, actually, the son of Sathanus. My name is Cornyx Blackthorne."

"Oh, cool," Jersey said. "I'm the Jersey Devil. Son of...you know, I actually have no idea. But I'm good with Jersey, Devil or JD. I didn't know there were other people who could do the shapeshifting stuff, although mine's a bit more spell-based. I'm guessing Mothman's over there is too."

He glanced over his shoulder.

Mothman gave a hesitant nod.