Winding time back a bit, Arthur had exited his car. He envisioned wings, similar to the ones Alicia had. They were supposedly siblings, so he'd assumed their forms would look similar.
That brought up a question to Arthur, one he hadn't thought too deeply about.
His mother was the dragon. At an early age, Arthur's parents divorced. Alicia seemed to be older than Arthur, so this meant that their mother had Alicia before she was married to his father.
Arthur didn't really know his dad, although he occasionally got letters from him which Arthur usually ignored. However, with the recent events, talking to his father might be a good idea. Hopefully, it wouldn't end with his dad trying to kill him like his mom did.
His dragon's blood had awakened, so he was able to actually sprout wings this time. The wings were, unlike what his inexperience might give one the impression of, large. Size didn't equate to power, but when compared to his average height, it did seem towering, like he'd grown two human beings on his back and was flapping them.
He took off, having taken a leap into the sky before flapping his wings. He focused entirely on it, controlling the wings quite nicely for a beginner. They flapped slowly, yet the gusts of wind were powerful enough to lift him off and keep him suspended in the air.
He got to a height of perhaps around 50 feet, not looking down. Admittedly, Arthur had a fear of heights. Though, it couldn't be considered a phobia.
Phobias were irrational fears of something. Being afraid when you're about to plummet to your death is not irrational.
He continued moving, before his neck got tired from looking up at the sky. He'd gained two new body parts to control, something that took time and effort. Even those born with wings weren't born flying.
Arthur's gaze looked down, and he saw the sheer height he was in. It shattered his nerves, and the wings flew disproportionately, improperly, and downwards. Screams could be heard as he was torpedo-ing down towards the pavement.
He flapped them wildly like someone who was about to fall. Wait, no, he was such a person. His trajectory shot from a vertical line going downwards to a horizontal one heading downwards, just not as fast or deadly.
And then, he felt a "PLANK" on his side. He was confused, as he'd gotten tangled up in his wings and unable to see. However, he put them back inside of himself, collapsing and shooting down at the ground.
He tried to land on his feet, but when he did, his knee rocketed up and cracked him in the nose, as his ass pulverized the ground with his cheek meat. Blood ripped out of his nose as he let out a sound akin to spitting, coughing terribly so.
His back and spine went erect, as he leaned back quickly and rolled to his stomach, holding his butt. His tailbone had broken, and he let out wet noises with his mouth that were quiet.
The occasional gasp here and there, and he tried to stand up, but couldn't. Every time he tried, his tailbone only hurt more. And as for his ribs, they hurt badly too, the sharp pain making it difficult to breathe.
He laid, finding himself in the parking lot of some fast food restaurant. He wasn't even a mile away from his campus, so he was in serious danger of having someone recognize him. He crawled to a safe spot in the bushes, giving the man a call.
…
Upon hearing the story, the man simply laughed. Though, even that was more so to be polite, despite it being rude. It was then that he revealed some information.
Arthur couldn't heal. The descendents of Assas had an increased likelihood of being able to regenerate, using blood as a manner by which to do so, Arthur himself was one such entity. However, being a noob at using his own Art, he was unable to perform such a daunting task.
That's why—
"Simply regenerate," the man told Arthur. "Yeah, no shit," Arthur replied. Just as being hungry makes you angry, so can having a broken butt and ribs, it seemed.
"It's actually not all that difficult. It'll take the breath out of you, and you will be tired, but it will heal. Simply envision it happening, and you will be healed. Such is one of the greatest blessings of Dragon Blood."
Arthur groaned, putting his phone away and closing his eyes.
'Imagine it? Of my wound healing…'
And as simple as his desire came, Arthur's wounds healed. However, they came at a great cost, in that he was gasping for air. Drowning. He had been drowning, and was clawing his way up the water for air.
The pain faded, though not instantly, and he stood up, huffing and puffing. He stumbled, leaning on a tree for support.
For someone with poor cardio such as himself, it was a nightmare akin to running 2 miles without stopping. Arthur waited a few minutes, before taking off.
He made sure not to look down. But when he had no choice, he would steady himself, not giving in to his fear of heights. He used a website to find his way, ignoring traffic and flying as fast as he could.
It actually wasn't too difficult. Just as someone with minimal experience roller skating or ice skating will trip and have to cling to the walls for the first 20 or so minutes, but eventually is able to move around somewhat comfortably, Arthur's experience with flight was the same.
But it was nowhere near as fast as he'd anticipated.
…
He arrived at the Graves family mansion. He'd been flying above the clouds for quite some time, to make sure that no one spotted him. This, of course, came with two major downsides. That being the cold and the air.
When it came to the cold… there's no way around it, Arthur was freezing. And when it came to the air, with less oxygen present, he would have passed out. The freezing and oxygen deprivation would have 100% killed him if he didn't take breaks.
But even those breaks weren't enough to excuse his lateness. He was supposed to arrive in time for dinner. He ended up coming at 3 in the morning.
The gate to the manor opened, and he stumbled, arriving there and knocking on the door. As he stood, his body naturally swayed, not wanting to remain standing.
The man opened the door, looking at Arthur with a shocked face. "Ah. Well, I should have mentioned, but only those who are particularly good at flying can get to the house in time for dinner," he said. Arthur frowned, looking up at him with an upset expression.
"Whatever, what's for dinner?" Arthur asked him. All he held in his heart for the man was contempt and anger. His exhaustion, feeling of time having been wasted, and the own man's belittling demeanor only heightened his wrath. And now that he was pretty sure the man wouldn't kill his friends, he didn't feel too afraid of him.
"Salmon and broccoli. Come on in, please," the man said. Arthur entered, loving that the house was warmer than the outside. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, looking around.
When Arthur entered, he saw a few people in the living room. It was mostly youthful folks, ones who didn't seem to be that much older or younger than him. And when it came to one of them, he immediately stood out.
The family all seemingly had black hair. When Arthur approached them, seeing that they were watching MMA fights on the TV, they turned to look at him and he saw their blue eyes. With the exception of one.
One of them, wearing a pink "Kiss the Cook" apron and seemingly nothing underneath except for red heart underwear, dyed white hair and red eyes which were visible as he lowered his sunglasses, whistled as he saw Arthur.
"Phew, what a man. This is our adopted brother or something, right, nii-chan?" The white haired man asked. He seemed extremely white, not a hint of anything remotely Asian in his blood, yet he used a Japanese honorific.
"Uh, what the hell are you?" Arthur asked the white haired man. The man stood up, letting out an "aw, fuck," which sounded very southern. "I'm Chad, my bad for not introducing myself earlier. You're Arthur, right dude?"
When he stood up, Arthur noticed the man's throbbing muscles, as the apron didn't cover his arms at all. The fact that he immediately saw the muscles made Arthur feel gay just for his fixation on them, as he looked up at the towering man.
He was tall, around 6 foot 8, and a very handsome face. However, it seemed that everyone else around him groaned when he spoke, though that might have been Arthur hearing things.
His white hair was short and messy, but his eyebrows weren't white either.
"Uh, yeah, I'm Arthur. Um, I'm kinda tired, so can I get a place to sleep?" Arthur asked. Chad nodded his head, and turned towards the other members of the Graves family. They looked at him with fear as he grabbed one by the ankle and the other by the head.
He tossed them off of the couch, and they landed on the carpeted floor with a thud. Chad gestured at the couch, smiling gently and innocently.
"There, a place for you to sleep. You want breakfast tomorrow morning? Well, actually, you might wake up at noon, so I guess it'd be lunch," Chad said. Arthur doubted Chad's intentions, believing them to be obviously malicious. Yet, his body simply needed rest, so he collapsed onto the couch, using his arm as a blanket.
"What? Oh, okay," Chad said, looking off in a random direction and nodded his head. Arthur hadn't said anything, yet there was a response. Arthur was too tired to care, as he closed his eyes.
The man went to Arthur and cleared his throat.
"Arthur, would you mind—" the man was interrupted by Chad slapping the back of his head with his meaty palm. The man let out a "hk," turning around and looking at him with contempt.
"Oh, sorry bro, the voices told me to slap you," Chad said. "Blame them."
"You… And you wonder why no one likes you," the man replied, his fingers twitching. Arthur himself was already on the verge of passing out, so he didn't give much thought.
"Really? Well, that's their problem, voiture de course," Chad said. He laughed and went towards the basement door of the mansion. The man groaned and turned to look at Arthur. His siblings had already gotten up from the floor and went to sit on other couches.
"Well, good night, brother," the man said.
'Shut up…'
…
Once he woke up, Arthur sat up. Immediately, he saw the gazes of several people glaring at him. He recoiled in fear for a moment, before they greeted them. "You're our child now, Arthur," said an older woman. She seemed to be around 25 in terms of appearance.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, uh, mhm, I sure am!" Arthur stammered out, before getting off the couch. He rushed around the mansion, looking for a bathroom before finding one. He locked himself inside, breathing heavily.
He checked his phone, seeing that it was noon. He washed his face, preparing himself mentally for the family meeting.
Upon exiting, he was relieved to find himself not swarmed. He went to the living room, seeing a large group of people present. Each of them had black hair and blue eyes, though luckily none of them seemed to have any visible signs of inbreeding.
The man from the forest approached Arthur. In his hand was a plate, one with syrup, waffles and berries. Arthur took it with a small "thank you" and went to the dining table. He began to eat, when two of the family members approached him.
They seemed youthful in appearance, which shocked Arthur when the man said—
"So, I'm your new father, it would seem." Arthur was surprised, as the man didn't look a day above… 28, perhaps. The confusion didn't lie in that he seemed he could be older, but that he couldn't be seen a day older.
"Dad? Like, you're, uh, Mr Graves?" Arthur asked him. The man nodded his head, and he turned towards the woman. "Mrs Graves, I'd assume?" He asked once more, and she gave an "mhm."
"Wow, I just… you seem very young," Arthur told them both. They laughed and sat down with their own plates, beginning to eat as well. "Thank you, we get it quite a lot. In truth, we're both in our sixties," the man said.
If Arthur were a cartoon character, eyes would have shot out, a jaw hit the table and his tongue would unroll itself. Of course, no such thing could occur, so all that was in reality was a simple widening of the eyes and a slightly agape mouth.
"Oh, wow. That's… something," Arthur replied. He continued to eat his food, feeling quite nervous now. His "adopted parents" looked into the kitchen, clapping their hands. The man from the forest entered, with the mother looking at him.
"Tell me, have you introduced yourself to Arthur yet, Rudy?" The woman asked him. He shook his head, and he turned towards Arthur.
"My name is Rudy. I do understand that I've never told you this, so please, pardon my rudeness. Not to be impolite, but I didn't think you'd accept the deal. I gave no consideration to the idea of your acceptance, so I believed it futile to give my name to a dead man," Rudy said.
Arthur looked at his plate, his lips moving around, rubbing each other as he held back a smile.
'Rudy, huh? Stupid name for a stupid guy. Though, I guess this proves I made the "right" decision, then. It's not my fault…'
It was then that Rudy was grabbed from behind, a massive arm dangling around his neck as the handsome face looked at Arthur. Arthur immediately noticed out of the corner of his eye, and looked up, spotting Chad.
Immediately upon his entry, Mr and Mrs Graves both groaned in annoyance, holding their heads with their palms and clenching the other fist. This made Chad laugh, as he let go of Rudy.
"Yo, bro! Bomber ass waffles you got there, yeah? Rudy made them, and I gotta admit, he's better at cooking than I am!" Chad yelled. His voice was disproportionately loud compared to the rest of the household and the situation itself.
It was lunch – though Arthur was eating a breakfast meal since he'd just woken up – and he was nearly screaming.
"Uh, yeah," Arthur let out. Chad patted Rudy on the back with what was more akin to two slaps. Wait, no. Three. And then four and five before Rudy dodged.
"Basically, if you need a rundown of the family dynamics, Rudy's the servant. He's like a butler, but part of the family. Mom and dad treat him like shit cause he's not really a fighting type. But they also treat me like shit, so it's okay, Rudy!" Chad yelled again.
Chad laughed at his own joke hysterically, still keeping on his pink "Kiss the Cook" apron. He also wore sunglasses indoors, which was kinda weird.
"Tch. Did the voices tell you to come annoy everyone again, Chad?" Rudy asked him. Chad tilted his head, before he shook it.
"Nah, they just said to come talk to Arthur. I could smell him from miles away! It wasn't a bad scent though, it was small."
"Ugh, whatever. Just leave," Rudy commanded. Chad then waited. He looked up at nothing in particular, then nodded his head.
"The voices said I gotta do this. Sorry broski!" Chad said before reeling his fist back and slamming it into Rudy's gut. Rudy immediately let out an "OOMPH!"
He fell to the ground, puking onto the floor, holding his guts. He whimpered on the floor, as the violent thud was audible to the whole house. Chad frowned, before looking at Arthur and giving him a thumbs up.
"Don't worry dawg, the voices say you're a really cool guy, and I agree with them! So yeah bro, you're good," Chad said, smiling with a toothy grin. "You smell amazing, by the way! Let's go racing sometimes, dattebayo!"
He began to walk away. His parents consoled their wounded son, who quickly healed his wound. He stood up, looking at his own puddle of puke, the contents of which were his own breakfast.
"Tch, don't stare at him. He says he hears voices, but that's bullshit. He just blames everything on the voices, damn it…!" Rudy said.
"Huh? Oops! Hey Rudy, the voices told me to tell you to shut your stupid bitch mouth! Huh, the voices sure are aggro today, yeah?" Chad said, heading down to the basement.
Arthur looked on in surprise. He continued to eat, occasionally covering his mouth to hide a smirk. While Chad did definitely seem like a nightmare to those who were his blood family, if Arthur would continue to be treated "not terribly" then he would be okay with it, since the Graves family were his enemies.
While the parents didn't seem to be enemies in a current sense, what they had done was something he wouldn't forgive. They took him away from his mom, or rather took her away from him. Even his supposed sister wouldn't step up to help him, and she'd seemed to be not too bad.
He'd been branded with a scent he despised, all due to this family. Any suffering they were inflicted with would bring him a hint of joy.