It was uncomfortable to be sure, and made it hard to walk naturally, but the tail-down-pants idea was not without merit.
To save him from walking too much and having another mishap, Bran had Misha stand in a strategic position toward the entrance of the wet market where he could come back from each expedition, hand Misha a bag to carry, then go out again.
For Misha's part, he was quite happy to just stand there and gawk at everything. This was his hometown, the place he'd been born, yet there were so many wonderfully foreign things for him to examine. For a place called a 'wet market' it really did live up to its named reputation.
The floors were covered in water that the fish mongers regularly sloshed on the floor to keep the mess of fish guts and other things from clogging up the drains, and to the side with land-based meat, the floor tiles were slick with oil from the nearby shops selling fried duck and chicken. It smelled amazing and Misha had to keep pulling his eyes away from the glowing meats. Whoever had the idea of putting red lights directly above the meats was a genius.
He shifted, re-adjusting the plastic and reusable bags in both his hands, checked that his tail hadn't done a runner, then looked away to the fish section. There was always something about fish, whether live or dead, that made him want to take a big bite of them right then and there. He'd creeped out his friends as a kid when he'd told them, but now that he thought about it, maybe it was just the dragon in him. Or rather, because he was a dragon.
He hadn't really thought about the new information he'd learned about himself yesterday - he hadn't really wanted to. On the one hand, there was an exciting element, kind of like a kid finding out they're a wizard or a princess or something, but on the other, this was the real world, how would being a dragon affect his life going forward?
If Bran's guess was right, this knowledge had already led his own father to try to take his life. He thought of his mother.
If she'd been alive, what would she do? Protect him from his father? Join him?
He didn't remember her well, but what he did recall set her in a rosy light - a good and kind soul. But he'd thought the same things about his father too and look where that had ended up.
A piece of paper, a pamphlet, suddenly appeared in front of him and he looked to find an old man holding it out to him. The man said something in Chinese and smiled, so Misha smiled back. The man pushed the pamphlet more profusely, so much so that Misha was forced to take it and for a moment he was worried he was going to be forced to buy something, but the man merely said something more, smiled and went on his way, offering pamphlets to other shoppers. As he walked away, Misha noticed that unlike most salesmen, his clothes were fraying and there were holes on the heels of both his shoes.
Misha decided to take a better look at this pamphlet.
As expected, it was covered in Chinese characters but there was a single image in the middle of a girl smiling.
Out of the corner of his eye, Misha caught sight of Bran's blond hair, and he shook his head to clear it.
"Success?" he asked when Bran neared.
Bran nodded and held up a large bag of greens. "What's that?"
Misha held out the pamphlet to Bran. "Dunno," he said. "An old man just gave it to me."
Bran's expression darkened.
"You know what it is?"
Bran nodded. "It's a missing person's notice for his granddaughter."
The mood was sober as the pair made their way back to Bran's aunt's flat.
"How'd the tail go?" Bran asked. They were going round a corner Misha was pretty certain they'd already gone by before.
"Alright," he said.
"You should be able to learn how to make it disappear, but before then I'll look up how to make a charm for it. I can't make it invisible, but there are ways to make it less eye-catching."
"Thanks."
They walked on in silence for a bit.
Finally, Misha decided to say what was on his mind. "Do people often go missing here?"
"No," replied Bran. "Although… I haven't been here for a few years. Maybe things have changed. Does the notice bother you?" The pamphlet was folded neatly and tucked into one of the bags of food.
"It doesn't… bother me exactly," replied Misha. "I just… I just hope he finds his granddaughter."
Bran nodded. "You know, I actually…" his voice trailed off.
"Mm?"
Bran stopped then looked back. "Does this… Does this path seem familiar to you?"
"Yeah, we passed by here already," said Misha.
Bran looked away seemingly searching for words then finally turned to Misha. "Maybe you try leading the way?"
Less than five minutes later, the pair were kicking off their shoes and slotting away all the food they'd bought. Or rather, that Bran had brought. Misha had no money.
"How do I reapply for an ID card?" he asked Bran as he helped shove the vegetables into the drawer in the fridge. Along with losing all his clothes, Misha had also lost his wallet in the happenings of the day before. The pair had spent a good amount of time looking for it but to no avail.
"Ah, your ID…" Bran stopped slicing up the meat. He was dividing the meat into little bags for easy storage. "About that… do you mind if you let me handle that? There's someone I can ask to help get a temporary one reissued to you first, then help you get a proper one later."
"You'd do all that?" asked Misha, genuinely surprised and touched that he'd go to the effort.
"I'm not trying to be nice or anything," Bran said gruffly. "It's just because I'm not sure about your father. I don't know anything about him and you…"
"Also don't know anything about him, it turns out."
"...Right. And because of that, I think it's best to be wary about how much noise we make. He'll be looking for you and we don't know how well connected he is," said Bran.
Misha nodded slowly. "He's been working here for years, I know that much." His brow furrowed. "But then what do I do? I can't keep freeloading on you…" The excitement of the new city and new discoveries had finally subsided, and reality of the situation was setting in for the young man.
Bran laughed. "If you want something productive to do, then you can learn how to hide that tail of yours."
As Bran had expected, Misha perked up at the mention of that.
"Are you going to teach me dragon magic?"
"Me? A human teaching a dragon, dragon magic? Unlikely."
"Oh…"
Bran decided to pause his teasing. "Dragons tend to keep to themselves," he explained. "No one outside really knows how they learn this stuff, if they're just born knowing it or if they have teachers and sect schools like humans."
Misha laughed at the thought of dragon school. "That sounds like fun. Hey, what magic school did you go to?"
"I didn't," replied Bran. He finished packing away the groceries and headed out to the living room again.
"Oh?" Misha followed him.
"I don't have any formal training," Bran elaborated as he went through the cabinets below the figurine displays. He pulled out a large wooden box.
"Ehh… Wait, then where'd you learn all this stuff?" asked Misha.
Bran shrugged. "Here and there. Books. Experimenting. Watching other people. Here, hold these." He held out the box. Misha took it.
"You're self-taught! That's amazing!"
Bran grimaced. "It's really not…" He pulled out a few books then closed the cabinet doors with a foot. "Put that on the table."
Misha set the box down on the coffee table and took a seat while Bran did the same with the books. He flicked on the table lamp.
"This charm was originally designed as a way to help prevent thieves from stealing things," said Bran as he picked up one of the thick volumes and flipped through it. He stopped about a quarter of the way into the book then slid it in front of Misha. "This is the design."
Misha shuffled closer to the table and gazed down at the book.
As expected, the book was in Chinese, and thus illegible to Misha, but he was awed by the beautiful and intricate patterns to the bottom of the page. They were a mix of computer circuitry and Book of Kells. Misha pointed at one. "Is this an inscription?"
"Correct. That one you have your finger on is one that tries to 'draw attention'."
Misha picked up the book and looked more carefully at the inscription. He was pretty sure he hadn't seen these patterns before, yet he couldn't help feeling that there was something familiar about them. He pointed at the one on the opposite page. "And this one… pushes attention away, right?"
Bran looked at him with surprise. "Right." He eyed Misha. "How did you guess that?"
Misha frowned. "Not sure," he admitted. "It just looks like the opposite of the other one. An inversion, or something."
Bran dropped his gaze to the book. To the uninitiated, and even to a beginner, both scribbles would look completely unintelligible. "You've got some talent for this, I think. Must be the dragon in you."
Misha grinned, then blushed as his stomach made itself known.
Bran raised an eyebrow. "Is dragon feeling hungry?"
Misha raised a hand, with his index and thumb about an inch apart. "Just a bit."