I am going to immediately use this prompt in a way that I did not precisely intend it when I wrote it. Instead of bringing up ties to mythology, I will bring up ties to a mythical creature--one far more real where I come from. I speak, of course, of dragons. I have been chewing on this post for some time, trying to figure out whether or not I qualify as a dragon, and whether this topic even belongs here, but I have decided that it does because of how inherent Tremere and my life back at "home" was to understanding how I am feeling and what I am.
Discussions of identity shaping and re-shaping, largely due to BPD. I am also told that this comes across as somewhat obsessive, and while I will not change what I have said, I will warn for it if that bothers you.
I can't quite explain it. The breath, the weight, the flight, the fire, it calls to me. I feel like I should be able to bare my teeth and exhale flame--despite my own issues and, dare I say, fear of fire. I should be able to flare wings and lash a tail, and yet, and yet, most of that is new since I arrived here, imprinted upon me (or brought out in me) by sharing a head with (other?) dragons.
Some of it isn't new, though. The specific kind of prideful, righteous rage that Tanix and Serinoth associate with their draconity--that's not new. Certain mannerisms, feelings I can't put words to--I am a dragon does not sound wrong to me, but it's not quite right, either, because I'm not a dragon. I'm not. I am Goratrix, a vampire, a man whose Avatar--the reflection of my spirit, my soul, my being--was a reflection of myself, a man in a mirror, inviting me to look deeper, ever deeper, to understand myself and the world around me, and not once did I clock myself as a dragon.
Scaled like one, perhaps. Reborn in one's fire, yes.
Tremere is a dragon. There is no doubt in my mind of that, there never has been. He isn't, physically, no, but at heart, at soul, he is one. His Avatar, Arcanum, so powerful and willful that it, he, could physically manifest, was a dragon. Arcanum was a direct reflection of Tremere, and Tremere, Arcanum. Sometimes, when angry or otherwise slighted, Tremere could become draconic in an instant, terrifying and exhilarating. Here--copied from a discord server I am in, something I wrote a few months ago about a time that I nearly forgot that Tremere was a human Mage underneath all of that draconity--
One of the other heads of houses had pissed him off something fierce. Said something so out of line that it could have led to an all-out two- or three-way battle amongst the leading council of the Order of Hermes. And Tremere punctuated the silence with a growl, and the firelight flickered, showed his shadow, more draconic, claws and horns and wings, and the storm outside flashed with lightning, illuminated the form of Arcanum as he hit the wall, clung to the grooves in the stone outside and peered in through the window, head arched to blast through the glass and burn the council where they sat if needed.
And Tremere rose to his feet, stalked towards the offending Mage. Twirled his staff, and the crystalline head glowed, made the whole thing crystal, and then he slammed it to his side. It melted out of his hand and into his skin, moved across him, formed scaly, armored plates of purple-pink glowing, spined armor down his back, his arms, gave him cruel claws and curved horns, a tail like animated empty armor, and lit him up like he was the greatest Mage of his time, and God damn it, he was.
He and Arcanum spoke together, in perfect unison, voices low and growling, and I've never seen a room of powerful Mages quake like that, not before or since.
That man was a dragon, my dragon, and people wonder why I was obsessed with him.
He is a man with the soul of a dragon, physical and breathing, as real as heat and as clear as fire. He simply is, with no remorse or hesitation, and I am a dragon in that I am his match, his other half, in that I am molded in his image and he is so distinctly dragon that, sometimes, I have no choice but to follow suit.
My sense of self, of identity, has always been in flux, uncertain, unclear. I am told that this is a common symptom of BPD, which I believe I have. I had little rigidity in identity, and what I did have was made in the image of Tremere. How could I not? I was young, scared, about to be killed, when he swooped in on dragonback and rescued me, cared for me, loved me. In a way, I had no choice. I became his perfect fit, and what fits a dragon better than another dragon? I am clay pressed against his scales and allowed to solidify there, leaving an impression of him in me, making me draconic but not quite a dragon, something similar and close but altogether lacking.
So: am I a dragon? Do I count, qualify, measure up? I do not know. Tanix thinks so. Serinoth, our other dragon, isn't sure. Tremere isn't sure what to make of this revelation, either, although partly it is due to not realizing how much I had shaped myself around him.
To me, I don't know if it matters. I have been shaped from clay and fired in the dragon's image; and I am content with that.