Post by kingfish on Oct 20, 2020 5:33:15 GMT
Ambition
Talons raced across the icy stone cobblestone as seven or eight dragonets raced home, skidding inside the door. Their sharp claws, however, did nothing to stop the first few from barreling into the scarred IceWing in the door.
Snowglare was not an intimidating dragon to most, but to his children he was worse then the tales of Darkstalker. Whip-thin, circles under his eyes, a pale blue and white. He was an combination of hard work and having once been handsome, but it was lost on the aging dragon.
His claw came barreling down on the youngest, picking her up with no gentleness to lash his tail.
“Get inside. Now.” he snarled, turning to walk inside with the dragonet under his arm, limp and unwilling to even try and fight.
Inside the house was a very smart dragon. He was pale green and silver, eyes tinged with a slight humor as he watched the dirty things file in after their father. Atop the table in front of him sat a worn emerald necklace, and as they walked by it he could immediately tell which ones seemed most guilty.
“Here are the nags. I’m missing a shift to be here, Brinicle, make it fast,” Snowglare snapped, sitting down heavily and releasing the last dragonet, who hid like a whipped dog behind her siblings.
They were interesting, these dragonets. Some had the beauty of their father, some the darker toughness of the mother, but all were worn and skinny, covered in dirt and with pale bugs swarming in and under their scales.
Brinicle arranged his claws on the table professionally.
“I’m not here to punish you all,” he started. “Now, for some context, to, ah, start your thoughts.” he said, getting up and starting to slowly pace.
*Click. Clack.* went his claws.
“This necklace was stolen from my house at mid afternoon yesterday. I found talon prints going out of the house’s door. One large, one small. Considering that you all have a reputation for this, I came to you first.”
“So which one of us gets to spend the next two weeks on house arrest?” one of the dragonets piped up, her pale face creased in defensiveness.
“Oh, no. No. I’m just asking for help to find the real conspirator.” Brinicle clarified with a smile.
The dragonets shuffled among themselves for a bit, murmuring and shifting before one came out, more pronounced than the bunch.
“I’ll help you, mister. But you gotta get us food,” the dragonet asked, claws ticking on the floor.
“Done. Come along, then.” Brinicle swept out of the house, and the dragonets followed, all but the one from before staying by his side as they walked.
“I’m Cod, by the way.” the speckled dragonet noted, stopping for a second to itch a bit behind his ear.
“Mm. Yes, Cod. I am Brinicle;”
“I know that, Mister, my pops said that. But mister, I gotta question, why’d ya come all the way just ta get one of us? You know we thieves-“
Brinicle cut him off, “Thieves know thieves. It’s not as trivial as the necklace. As tou can see, I have it, but several others things are missing.” he noted; tilting his head as he opened the gate.
“Mister, are you messing with me?” Cod asked, small horns curling around a comically tilted face.
“W..what?” the dragon asked.
“Mister Brinicle, sir, it’s th’ birds.” he said bluntly, pointing to the sharp-beaked seabirds that always circles.
“Pardon?” Brinicle asked.
“Ya got bird poo on your windows, mister, and they like shiny things. Ya probably just left it open,” the dragonet said.
“Dear me,” the dragon said, shaking his head a bit. “You’re very smart, you know that?” he asked.
Cod shrugged, “I guess. Common-sense.”
“Well, here you are. I’ll have to go check the nests,” Brinicle huffed, lashing his tail and shoving the necklace in the dragonet’s direction. When he turned around again, he was gone, booty taken with him.
Royalty
The HiveWing held the cracked eggshell of his child in his talons, head down as he gently encouraged the baby out of the egg.
They had been granted a child by the queen herself. The light of the nursery was warm, reflecting off of his wife’s scales like minuscule lamps within themselves.
Weta was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He could easily look past her scarred face-she had loved him since they were stupid schoolchildren, and he had loved her even earlier. No face would prevent his love.
They had been trying for so long. Never, though, would their eggs quicken with the heartbeat of a child. This egg, all beautiful and gold and red and orange in the light, was from some someone somewhere.
Nothing would prevent Goliath from loving their child. He and Weta had sat with it for hours before it hatched, holding it close and turning it every few hours.
Moons, even if a LeafWing crawled out of it, he would hold it close, because it didn’t matter what it looked like. It mattered that it was his child. His and Weta’s own.
A claw burst out of the egg from the small hole in the thing, so immensely tiny that it almost scared him. It was a beautiful little talon, jeweled and gold. The claws were pale and wicked-sharp, even from a young age.
“Come on, little sweet,” Weta encouraged, wings twitching about in excitement. Goliath’s own wings felt the same, but he stilled them. He gently picked off a bit of eggshell with his own massive black claw. With that, a back leg burst through the side of the egg, followed by the beginnings of a tiny golden snout.
“There you go,” Goliath mumbled, and suddenly, as if on cue, the egg burst into a thousand pieces, glittering shell flying in all directions as the dragonet tumbled out of its hard prison.
Weta didn’t say anything for a second, giving the tiny things’ flickering antennae and wing buds a stunned look. She raised her eyes to her mate, who had protectively scooped the dragonet close with a wing, nosing it and making sure that the thing was alive and well. Well it was, he quickly learned, as it moved towards his heat violently.
“I..it’s a SilkWing? How could-“
“Does it really matter?” Goliath cut off. “Someone probably switched the eggs. I don’t know why, but I don’t care,” the massive HiveWing said fiercely, pulling the thing even closer to himself.
Weta considered this for a second, her tail flicking uncertainly.
“...okay,” she agreed softly, moving in to embrace her dragonet too. If she pretended hard enough, it would be a HiveWing like her.
*Its not mine by blood, anyway, it doesn’t matter if it looks like us.* she reasoned in her head, frown drowning in happiness as she put every thought aside to the odd little golden thing that stole all attention.
They had already agreed on a name- after one of Weta’s ancestors, a royal who had been a famous general.
“They won’t like this,” Weta noted as she gently touched the dragonet’s slowly twitching antennae.
“I know.” Goliath said. The dragonet was curled under one of his massive upper arms, near to his heart, Weta’s wing draped over it.
“I might...I might know somebody,” Weta said slowly, “His name is..well, they just call him the Doctor. But he specializes in..” she shook herself after trailing off. “I’ll be blunt. Making hybrids look like HiveWings or SilkWings. I’m sure that he can at least..try.” she mumbled. “You know they won’t let us just keep the little one as be. That would be..mingling. But they might turn a blind eye if...”
Goliath let her trail off, nodding. The little Viceroy had done nothing to deserve it, but perhaps his selfishness got the better of him in this situation. The ‘they’ she referenced were not HiveWings to be messed with-Ladies, Lords, the Queen, possibly-dragons that couldn’t say that a SilkWing among their ranks wasn’t a despicable thing.
Weta looked down at the happy dragonet, ears flicking back in displeasure at the antennae, as if she could wish them off of their head.
*You poor thing*, she thought.
(1405 words)