Chapter 36: Stalling

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Virgil's POV
(Warning for disassociation, disconnecting from reality, discussion about death, and panic attack)

I let my thoughts wander as I carried Roman over Auradon. I tried to ground myself, focusing on the cold wind blowing against my scales, or the feeling of a good stretch that came from using my wings. Still, my mind was stuck on this curse. Despite having it for only a few hours, it feels like I've had it for months.

It feels like a climax to a story that's being drawn out over several chapters because the writer is still figuring out how to make the whole thing work, and the readers are kept on the edge of their seats for far too long because of it.

I could have stolen the wand and freed my mother, broke the curse, and just let everything go back to the way it was before... but if I did that, my friends would be punished for betraying the Isle, and all of Auradon would burn. Despite being raised to put myself before others, I know that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that. I would die regardless.

So, now I'm entertaining Roman's idea of giving the spring a try. I know it won't work. You, the readers, know it won't work. So why are we wasting your time with this instead of skipping right to the climax? Right to where somehow, someway, my friends will have to save me, while I have no control of my actions due to the curse? I guess I'm stalling. I, Virgil, don't want to reach the part of the story where I die and my friends suffer, or I make my friends suffer in order to live. I don't want to get to the part of the story where I'm completely dependent on the people around me. Where I no longer have control.

I will waist your time, describing every detail of my dragon form to you. Describing the way my wings move, my legs lower, I adjust my arms, and prepare to land. I will describe the breath of cold, crisp, air that I breath in, and the soft, damp soil that I land on. I'll describe the enamoured expression on Roman's face, wide eyed, mouth parted open, hair a mess from the wind. How he's polite and careful as I put him down, and he dusts himself off. How I pause and stare at him, taking in every detail of his appearance, his mannerisms, his emotions. He's just as scared as I am, maybe more, but hides it effortlessly with a charming smile when he turns to me. I'd describe every strain of his brown hair, every spec of his shining green eyes, and every freckle on his perfect tanned face, but... I wouldn't want to annoy you in my attempts to prolong this.

Still, I'll tell you about how gingerly Roman takes my hand, and how my thin fingers fit well in his strong ones. That is, after I morph my hands back into their human form. I'll describe to you the faint purple glow travelling up my arm, the pins and needles feeling that it leaves behind from scales and claws morphing back into my skin. I wince in pain and stumble when my wings morph back into my body. I would have collapsed had Roman not caught me. I'll tell you how Roman's body is warm and strong as he lets me lean on him until I can walk on my own. This is what I want to focus on. The pressure between my feet and the ground as we walk. The stinging in my skin. The warmth and joy I feel with Roman. Not the dread of what's to come.

Soon we reach the bridge, and somehow it feels much more rickety than it did the last time we had crossed it. Despite having Roman with me, I hesitate to cross the bridge. We have time. It was only about nine thirty when we left the dance hall. I don't want to get there too quickly. I don't want to see Roman's disappointment, or even panic, when this doesn't work.

"It's okay, Virgil." I hear him speak for the first time since we landed... He's probably spoken before, but... I tuned him out. You'd think I wouldn't, it'd be another pointless thing to describe to you. But it's hard to ground myself, to keep my grip on reality, in the present moment. I never thought this would happen, I thought I was the only person my mother couldn't hurt. Not physically, at least. Things that used to be my reality, things I used to know as fact, all needed to be unlearnt. Still Roman's voice persists now, as he firmly holds my hand. "I'm here for you." He says, but who is here for him? I'm certainly not... I'm a burden to him, but dying won't change that, because then his own grief would be a worse burden.

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