The more he listened, the more he regretted asking: but he could not very well ask Enjolras to stop, when he had wanted to know in the first place. Still he grew quieter and quieter, his wings hunching about him like a little tent, as if to protect himself from the words.
"So you do not recognise me, after all," he said at last: hardly the most important matter at hand, but the only one he could think to focus on, in his distress. "I do not exist in your world, and nor do any other dragons."
no subject
The more he listened, the more he regretted asking: but he could not very well ask Enjolras to stop, when he had wanted to know in the first place. Still he grew quieter and quieter, his wings hunching about him like a little tent, as if to protect himself from the words.
It was wrong: it was all wrong. How could there be a Sixth Coalition, when there had never been a Fifth, or even a Fourth? England had fallen not a year after his hatching, and Spain had been crumbling before his very eyes before he arrived: what resistance, if any, could they have offered? How could Enjolras speak, so, of armies and troops, and never once mention the dragons of the Armée de l'Air? How could anyone think to send his companion away to some island, as if Xiang would not move heaven and earth to rescue him?
"So you do not recognise me, after all," he said at last: hardly the most important matter at hand, but the only one he could think to focus on, in his distress. "I do not exist in your world, and nor do any other dragons."