Rhaspida

'Oh my Flamecaller, look at this! Isn't it the best thing you've ever seen?'

'Ugh, swearing by your birth deity is so annoying, Rhaspi. You don't hear me talking like that about the Stormcatcher, do you?'

Rhaspida glared at the other dragon through her thick glasses. She didn't precisely need them, but she liked how she looked when she wore them. 'I was following the Flamecaller before it was cool, Foemaerl,' she said. 'It's not my fault it's mainstream now. Anyway, what do you think of this sweater? It's amazing!'

Foemaerl eyed the fuscia-orange-and-yellow garment skeptically. 'It's...uh...certainly something. I guess you could wear it...ironically?'

Rhaspida shook her head and put the sweater on. It fit like it had been made for her, even though it was certainly older than she was. 'It's not ironic, 'Maerl. It's iconic. When dragons see me from a distance they'll say 'oh, I know that sweater! That's Rhaspida coming.' It'll be my trademark.'

'Well...you're not wrong,' Foemaerl admitted, 'they'll certainly see you coming.'