Hongshulinshe

Hongshulinshe
Seamstress of the Rot-Root Gnarl.


”Hawng-shew-lin-shee” — Gentle - Knowledgeable - Patient

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Sit here a while my dear. Tell me all your problems, your secrets. Though my ears may be failing me in my old age, I can still lend my time for a listen. Will you hold that stitch for me while you speak? Yes? Thank you. My claws have become shaky lately and it won't do to have an untidy seam. This is going to be a lovely outfit. It's Glen Cotton, you know. The Gladekeeper's traders were kind enough to let me borrow some. It's such a shame that we moved to plague. I miss the fresh breeze of the Windsinger's lair. But time must move forward, I suppose...! Oh, drat. I've mis-threaded. Pardon me a moment dearie, let me unfurl this for a moment. Mmm, hmm, ah. There we go. Where was I? Ah, yes.

I remember when I first came to this clan, actually. I had left the Viridian Labyrinth many years before. I had a brief stint where I came to be known as 'The Wandering Whistler of the Reeds'. I don't believe I picked up sewing until a good many decades later, actually. My tutor was a Ridgeback who was very dexterous with her claws. Funny, seeing as how most seamstresses are Wildclaws, but there's one in every clutch, I suppose.

She showed me how to fold and tuck and knit. Watching her weave was an endless treat, with how smoothly she worked the fabric. You see this moth-eaten old thing I'm wearing? A parting gift from her, centuries ago, now. You'd think it would be threadbare by now, but that's a testament on how well she taught me repairs.

Back to the story at claw, however. You'll have to pardon me. My mind's in a thousand directions these days. Thoughts pour out like crossing rivers and often I'll get sidetracked flowing down one.

I believe I was gathering cotton one day. The kind you only find in the fields on the edges of the Windsinger's and the Gladekeeper's lands. They say the wind tussles it so fine that it breathes coolly on even the hottest summer days. It was here I came across another imperial. And, ah, not just a run of the mill drake, this one. He stood out to me in the fields not because his colors were vibrant, or he was particularly large. No, he stood out because he matched.

Now you might ask, 'Whatever could I mean?', to which I would answer in that he and I had very nearly the same color scheme. And I know what you may be thinking, why would this matter? And I tell you, by Sornieth, that there is nothing more pleasing than finding yourself part of a matching set, even if we were never to be! But, as fate would have it, we were, and I must say that I am very pleased that we have both made it this far in life, what with how recklessly he throws himself out there into the fray with the mirror and the imperial. Gladekeeper knows how grateful I am that he chose healing as his profession on the battlefield. I could have very well been a widow several centuries earlier if not for good fortune and his never-ending flow of magic. His breath is the breath that keeps this clan afloat, after all. His words, not mine.

We were always together after that, in the field; he to play delegate between the wind clans and the nature clans, and I to ensure no dragon ever went chilly. Eventually, I settled in formally among the rest of the brood, introducing myself as necessary and greeting the delegates and clanheads in kind. Xerxes and Ajin are a gracious sort. Very glamorous, for plaguekin. And I suppose that's why we eventually moved back to plague. And I say 'moved back' more along the lines of 'uprooted and returned for the homesick'. Funny, plague dragons getting sick for home. I hope the irony isn't lost on you.

I can't say that it is my favorite land, the plague grounds. The earth is... fleshy. It's rather unnerving. But so long as there is at least one partitioned truce land where the earth grows green, even in dull patches, I suppose it is enough for one to be content. We can always trade for finer, cleaner linens, if necessary.

(Python/Butterfly/Glimmer)

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