A Dragon's Hoard

TCOC - Silver Hands

Tom lay there in one of the infirmary beds. He'd thought about sleeping but he wasn't sure if he could or if it would even help. He glanced over a few beds down. Saran was still unconscious, lying bandaged up. They had managed to get most of the bullets out of him. Tom rolled on his side, his back to Saran. His legs throbbed. They had managed to relieve some of the pain and give him a different type of cast for each leg. Tom had taken to studying the yellow and faint blue designs that lined the corner of the ceiling and walls. The building looked as if it once had been breathtaking. It was sill beautiful, but signs of aging permeated its trappings. The entire structured screamed Asian inspiration. Some of the front parts of the building honestly looked like an old Japanese temple from the street. The entire lot was surrounded by a wall which they had to be dragged through in order to get to the infirmary. The main bulk of the building looked like a modernized mini skyscraper. Two disparate worlds stitched together with concrete and cinder-block.
Tom's thoughts were interrupted as he heard Saran groan. The bed squeaked as Saran sat up. Tom would've been quick to try and shut him down and talk him back into a lying position but his legs were a bit of an issue. By the time Tom rolled over, he was met with a strange sight. Saran was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hand grasping his shoulder and engulfed in green flames. Tom blinked, processing what this meant. The green flame dispersed and Saran started unwrapping the bandages. Tom was about to ask about the point of the flames before he realized Saran's gloves weren't on. That wasn't the strange part. The strange part was the silvery white scaled claws Saran had for hands. Tom managed to sit up slowly, staying silent in response to the multiple questions clamoring in his head to be spoken. Once he had taken the bandages off, there wasn't a wound on his shoulder. Saran continued until there was a pile of bloodstained bandages lying next to him on the bed sheets and he stood, seemingly at full strength. Saran stopped, realizing Tom was squinting at him with a look that was somewhere between sarcastic skepticism and utter dumb confusion. Saran raised an eyebrow, going for his backpack on the floor leaning against the bedside table. He pulled a clean white shirt and vest which was the same color and had the same markings as his gloves. Saran dragged the stained hoodie and shirt he had been wearing into the backpack, putting on the new clothes. He glanced up to see the look on Tom's face hadn't changed.
"...Is everything alright?" Saran asked, shouldering the backpack.
"Let's see... claw hands, healing ability, pyrokinesis, and a sense of casual-ness that suggests you've done this before." Tom counted on his fingers. "Yeah, I'd say you've got some explaining to do."
Saran laughed awkwardly. "Yeah... well... maybe we should heal those legs first."
Tom looked down at the casts on his legs. "You can do that?"
Saran held his hand up. It burst into green flame again.
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that just burn me to a crisp?"
"I've tried it on humans before. It doesn't work as well but it's still way better than waiting for it to heal." Saran grabbed his gloves off the side table, stuffing them in his pocket before going over and sitting on the bed next to Tom's.
His skepticism didn't fade. "You've tried it outside your home dimension before, right?" Tom stated flatly, hoping the question was rhetorical.
Saran didn't respond as he laid his inflamed hands on one of the casts. Tom was about to protest as a familiar hallow ache started throbbing through his leg. It was similar to the feeling when he was healed by his father. It was a bit splotchier and with a bit more pins and needles, but definitely reminiscent. Granted, he doubted Saran could do much to compete with the well seasoned and experienced dimension traveler his father was. Tom huffed as the flames were extinguished, prying the cast off of his leg. He lifted his leg slightly, pressing two fingers down on where the fracture had been. His eyebrows raised as the pain didn't come. Saran proceeded to do the same to the other leg. Tom shifted, pulling his unbandaged legs to the other side of the bed, standing. He shifted on his feet, gauging how much pain he was in.
"...Yeah, I think this'll work. I can walk." Tom murmured, slipping on his shoes and putting his messenger bag, which had been hanging on the bedpost, back over his shoulders. Saran smiled slightly, probably pleased with the result. Tom turned around. "Right. Now, you've got some explaining to do." He folded his arms. "The flames and the hands. I'm assuming this has to do with the whole dragon thing. Those green healing flames the only thing you can make?"
"You mean my dragon magic?" Saran quirked an eyebrow.
Tom blinked. "Yes... Magic... of course..." He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I've never met another dragon of my kind. I was told there used to be a civilization of my kind back where I came from but they were hunted to near extinction a few centuries ago..." His claws burst into flames again, this time shining with a blue glow more reminiscent of his hair and wings. "I can make dozens of different colors of flames with different properties and affects." He started waving his hands through the air in a specific pattern, the flames changing color and lingering in the air seconds after his hands had come back to their starting position. "I've managed to get a good grip on most of them... except black flame... I've never managed to do black voluntarily... And it usually does things I don't intend it to..."
Tom nodded. "'Kay... so what about the freaky hands."
"It's part of the transformation thing. I've only heard stories about how great the shape shifting thing can be but I've never managed to achieve a full human form... My hands for some reason are always left like this. Which is one of the reasons why I wear the gloves."
Tom nodded. "Sounds legit."
"What about you? Why do you wear the gloves?"
Tom stiffened slightly. "They're... My utility. They're my fall back whenever things go wrong and stuff. I'm constantly adding onto and changing them. They also double as my dimension travelling device. I'd rather not be separated from them." He explained.

Their conversation was interrupted as someone came into the infirmary. He was dressed in an old style kimono and had a somewhat concerned look on his face. It didn't maintain as he was confused by the bandages lying on their beds and Tom's absence of pain while standing.
He didn't seem to want to address it as he approached them. "You must come with me. Father wishes to speak with you."
Tom and Saran exchanged glances. "Father...?" Tom spoke up. "...I'm assuming he's the dude who runs this joint... I guess this was inevitable."