Elda » Hibernal Den » Sylvester

Sylvester

(#22051169)
the clown and magician, Sweetstep's mate
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Spiral
This dragon is hibernating.
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Biography

{Quote is a w.i.p.}



Volume II

~
Sylvester, Part 1, Volume II
Prologue.
~

Continued from Anemone Part 1
The dark forest itself was silent. In the midst of a single grove, a twisted and gnarled tree stood alone as two voices raged from within.

A white and black Nocturne could only stare at the large, splotchy green she-drake before him in utter horror and disbelief.

“I should’ve known,” he said, barely gasping now as he paced back and forth, his pale face twisting in anger. “You were never going to help me, were you? You only wanted me to stay because of my power.”

“A power that can prove very useful, my dear Dewlap,” Marica chuckled. “What’s so wrong with learning the nature of the soul? Should we not research its purpose?”

“Besides the torture it causes the instant their eyes meet mine?” Dewlap nearly roared. He lashed his white tail and staring all over Marica’s body in confusion.

He had never noticed the slight changes at first. Now, he realized how different she was starting to look. Where once she had more flattened toenails, they were definitely longer than when he first met her. Her face had narrowed, the plates on her lengthened tail shrunk, and the horns on her head seemed to have flattened and fanned out. When she smiled now, her toothy grin only made him uneasy.

Marica feigned a pout to the young dragon. “It distresses you so, as well, doesn’t it?” She suddenly slid over to where he stood with such ease that the Nocturne startled. “But you know I hate to see such a proud dragon in pain. If you stay here with me, I’ll help you if you assist me.”

Dewlap’s fierce expression only hardened. “Stay...” he trailed off, unable to control the fury in his voice. “Why in Sornieth would I stay with somedrake like you now? You’re no longer the dragon I thought you were. There’s a reason why they should never be searched. Nodrake should ever invade the minds of others!”

Marica only sighed patiently. “I see I can’t change your mind,” she began, watching Dewlap slowly tread to the centre of the dirt room. “But neither are you going anywhere,” she finished, stamping one foot to the ground and the entire room shook once before an illuminated yellow shield covered the hole just above the white Nocturne.

Dewlap’s heart thundered in his chest and his pale eyes widened in fear. Snapping his shining black wings open, he sprang into the air, firing blasts of green light at the ceiling. His shots only ricocheted and instead struck the compact dirt walls and burned tiny holes into the soil. He roared in fury and fear before his body hit the shield and he fell back down, crumpling to the ground in a heap as he lay on his side, gasping.

“Now,” Marica said pleasantly, “why don’t you reconsider my offer?”

Dewlap snarled in response, turning his piercing glare to her. He opened his jaws to curse her until he noticed a slight movement beside the she-drake’s back foot. A small pinkish shape wriggled its way back under the dirt. When it vanished, he looked back up into Marica’s beady yellow eyes.

“Never,” he growled deep.

“Have it your way,” Marica said, rushing him.

But the Nocturne had now vanished in a cloud of green smoke.

Marica slid to an abrupt halt, sending dirt into the air and she nearly crashed into the wall with her barrelled body. Casting slow glances all around, she released a deep chortle.

“I know you’re still heee-eeeere,” she singsonged, pacing the spot. “Did you really think—” she stopped suddenly, feeling an odd wiggling sensation on the end of her tail. When she craned her neck to look back, she grinned with every fang at a small white worm desperately trying to crawl off. “That you’d escape me this easily?” she laughed, flicking her tail up.

The white worm—Dewlap—flew into the air above. When his shrunken body landed with a soft slap, he slithered as swiftly as he could away from the pounding footfalls behind him.

“So this is what the great wizard has resorted to!” Marica’s laugh erupted, echoing throughout the room. “Transforming himself into a lowly, slimy worm. You won’t get far.” When she was upon him, she stopmed at the earth furiously with one foot. When she lifted it again, a small puff of green smoke rose and when she inspected the bottom of her foot, she howled in fury.

“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LITTLE SNEAK?!”

Dewlap’s hearts pounded throughout his small body as the voice vibrated the air around him. He didn’t know where he was now, but he knew he no longer felt the dirt beaneath him, but his sensitive skin detected a much rougher surface.

Thinking a spell, twin pale eyes formed on his head. He couldn’t see too far ahead of him, but he knew now he’d reappeared on the splintered surface of one of the wooden tables. When he crawled again, he almost didn’t notice the long golden shape until he nearly bumped into it.

Glancing up, he immediately turned his eyes away from the green of another dragon. It was the Spiral, Flower, and she looked back at him with mistrust and fear clouding her large eyes as she could only lay on her side. She tried to move away, but her limbs shook and she lay down again.

Sorrow and anger filled Dewlap’s mind. As he turned to wriggle away, a golden paw stopped in front of him and soon he was being lifted up. When Flower’s palm halted at one of the small holes that had been blasted into the dirt wall, Dewlap couldn’t move, nor did he dare look to her again.

“Go,” the golden she-drake whispered hoarsely. “I’ll be fine...”

His hearts breaking, Dewlap crawled off of her palm and into the hole. He didn’t look back as he reluctantly wiggled his little body through the dirt.

Flower stared after him until the tip of the white tail disappeared, and she placed her golden head back onto the table, closing her large eyes. She listened to Marica rage until the other she-drake became strangely calm.

Her yellow eyes locking onto Tousle, Marica emitted a heavy sigh before a low chortle. “Oh my dear sweet,” she said softly. “Have I been neglecting you?”

Flower’s own heart began to pound wildly and her eyelids barely fluttered open. As she saw Marica stalk closer, the golden Spiral stretched out her arms before they fell limply again.

“No...” Flower said in a quiet whisper. “Please...”

“Now now now, don’t be afraid,” Marica’s deep voice soothed. “Your soul will be safe from him. And prove useful to me,” she finished, her laughter ringing all around them.

Wisps of yellow smoke danced around Flower’s body and they gradually surrounded and consumed her entire form. Her head to the tip of her long golden tail darkened, transforming her bright colours to black before she finally rolled into a tight circle until the Spiral was no more. Instead, a small scroll now floated before Marica, yellow lettering glowing on its dark surface and the green dragon laughed again.
...


He had kept crawling through the dirt until the cool air outside embraced his skin. Dewlap didn’t know how far he was now from Marica’s tree, nor did he stop to find out. Not even after he changed his body back from worm to dragon.

He snapped his wings open and sprang into the night, darting aimlessly among the other trees, just barely missing the sharp branches. His fists were balled in anger, and he allowed tears to stream down his face as he flew blindly on until finally halting at one tree. The Nocturne gripped the rough trunk as he stood on the solid branch with shaking legs, struggling to control his gasping.

Marica hadn’t been able to remove his ability. Maybe she’d never been able to. Maybe she knew she couldn’t, and lied to him, telling him to test it on poor Tousle. He’d been so certain, with the triumphant look in Marica’s eyes, that his power was truly gone. But it hadn’t been so. Marica tricked him to get him to tell her what he saw in Flower’s mind.

But he raged inwardly, to himself, as well. How could he have left the Spiral behind? But he knew he had to. He hadn’t enough magic to save the both of them. He had selfishly saved himself, and for what?

He then recalled Flower’s weakened state. Would she have been able to make it to safety before she was captured again? She must’ve known she wouldn’t. Why else would she have pushed him to his own escape?

He needed to get help...he...

But who would be powerful enough to stop Marica and be willing to help a soul searcher?

Dewlap’s shoulders sagged and he hung his head, sinking to his knees and wailed into the lonely night until sleep would claim him.
...


Days passed. One morning, the forest floor below retained its eternal darkness as the sky above paled. Dewlap only stared ahead, his eyelids drooped and his eyes watched nothing as he remained in the same tree.

Something growled, and Dewlap’s face twisted in agony. He hadn’t been in the mood to hunt or eat, but he knew it was foolish to let himself starve.

A chirp sounded from his right and held his attention. Looking over, a small grey bird with a black head flitted amongst the branches. Its swift movements challenged Dewlap to avoid looking wherever its beady eyes were. He lifted one paw, and a green light crackled from his claws.

He readied to fire—

“Could you teach me?!”

—and a new voice made him slip. He grasped the branch just in time and watched in irritation as his shot flew over the chickadee’s head, and the little bird squawked in surprise before darting into the shadows.

“Oh! Oh no, I’m so sorry,” the voice apologized. “You were trying to catch that, weren’t you?”

Grunting, Dewlap pulled himself back up onto the thick branch, nearly slipping again when the sight of a dark dragon with glittering green horns now stood before him. His heart beat wildly and he glanced away in time before meeting the large aqua eyes that stared to him.

“Was that really magic?” the stranger asked eagerly, leaning forward so that Dewlap had to take a small step back. “How did you do that?”

Dewlap cautiously turned his eyes away but kept the younger dragon in his peripheral vision. “I guess wizards cast magic spells,” he retorted quietly.

“Was that sarcasm?” the black Spiral asked, tilting his head. “But...you look like a wizard,” he said, eyeing the Nocturne’s sagging and pointed hat.

“Yeah,” Dewlap began a little harshly before softening his tone. “I, I just...”

“Not your day?” the Spiral wondered.

“You could say that.”

“Lemme make it up to you!” the Spiral shrilled when he heard Dewlap’s stomach growl. “Follow me.”

So he did. Dewlap flapped his wings clumsily after the other dragon through the forest until they finally stopped and landed on the steady branch of another tree. Dewlap watched as the black Spiral strained, pulling back a thick strip of bark and Dewlap doubled back in shock as a mass of hundreds of small insects and other bugs filled his vision before he quickly looked away.

The Spiral looked to him, cocking one brow in confusion. “I thought Nocturnes liked bugs, too,” he said.

He did. Oh how he did. Dewlap’s stomach growled louder. He could ignore its demands no longer. But still...

The Spiral shrugged. “Well I suppose I could bring you something else—”

Dewlap scrunched his eyes shut tight and shoved his entire head into the space, wolfing down the squirming bugs and he gripped the sides of the trunk for balance as he also flared his wings.

The Spiral jumped back in surprise. “I guess that’s one way to do it,” he said, beginning to smile and watching the other dragon feed.

His hunger soon satisfied, Dewlap steadily pulled himself back out and he sagged against the trunk with his back, sighing in contentment.

“Th’ name’s Sylvester, by the way,” the Spiral flashed a toothy grin and held out one paw.

Dewlap slowly opened his eyes to see the outstretched paw, and he shook it in his own pale one. “Dewlap,” he said, returning a smile.

“Sooo,” Sylvester began carefully. “About those magic lessons...” he trailed off, spreading his dark smile.

“Ohhh no,” Dewlap halted him. “I don’t teach.”

“But I’m a—”

“Fast learner? I’m not worried about—”

“ThenIcandoallofyourhuntingforyou!” Sylvester gasped out before wheezing. “And not just bugs, but real live meat!”

Now Dewlap stopped. Thinking to himself quickly, he gave in. “Make it killed.” He stiffened when the Spiral looked as if he were about to question him, but when Sylvester instead twisted into the air and whooped in joy, Dewlap almost collapsed in relief.
...


And so it went. The days became weeks. Sylvester never interrupted Dewlap’s speeches, always paying as close attention as he could and carefully watching the Nocturne’s gestures and stances, willing with his mind when Dewlap had instructed so. He never complained or protested when Dewlap corrected him. So the lesssons continued, and Sylvester happily kept up his end of the deal by sharing prey with him.

By the time the first month approached, Sylvester barely contained his excitement when the first spark fired from his claws and struck the branch of another tree without setting it afire.

The second month flew by. As did the third. Sylvester was then tested to challenge himself and Dewlap as they both hid and found each other in the dark forest. The more the Spiral practiced, the easier it all became. The final lesson for the day was when Dewlap had to give up when he could not locate the younger dragon.

“Did I really do it?” Sylvester asked, hopping up and down, his large bright eyes completely round. He sat on the ground next to Dewlap in front of the small fire and handed the Nocturne a squirrel skewer.

“Your magic is really coming along,” Dewlap said, taking the meat gratefully with a smile. “You might even make a decent wizard in thirty years.”

Sylvester groaned in feigned exasperation. “That looooooong?” he drawled, cracking another smile with Dewlap.

“If you want to do more than simply hide yourself,” the Nocturne managed to say between mouthfuls. “Or just poofing from one place to another.”

“So you did figure it out?” Sylvester chuckled before taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. “What made you want to do magic? You weren’t born with it, were you?”

Dewlap suddenly choked before coughing and swallowing hard.

“You okay?” Sylvester wondered, raising a scaled brow.

“Yes, just...swallowed the wrong way,” Dewlap said, giving a light chuckle.

“Sooo?” Sylvester prodded, leaning closer.

“Hm?”

“Why’d you want to learn magic?”

“To hunt without using my claws or any weapons,” Dewlap replied lamely and a little quickly.

“But you already do so much more...” Sylvester trailed off as he watched the other dragon keep turning his eyes away from him. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“It must be something, you won’t even look at me,” the Spiral countered, sounding hurt. “Wait a minute...you’ve always been looking away from me...”

Dewlap released a sigh. “Vester—”

“Why won’t you tell me?” Sylvester wondered, trying to twist his way into Dewlap’s view. “Aren’t we friends now?”

“Stop—” Dewlap warned, craning his neck to keep looking the other way.

“Oh c’mon, let’s see those greens of yours,” the Spiral teased, pointing one glowing aqua claw to the Nocturne and twirling it.

“No!”

Dewlap tried to resist the pull, but it was too swift for him to avoid it. His pale eyes were now staring straight into the bright of the Spiral’s.

Sylvester froze immediately, and a terrible sense of dread washed over his entire form, inside and out. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, as if Dewlap’s gaze were trapping him. He knew he desperately wanted to scream, to get as far away from the other dragon as he could, but his voice refused to work, his body refused to move. What he didn’t know was that Dewlap’s own body was jittering and twitching and seizing up until the Nocturne finally pulled his own eyes away and he gasped heavily, collapsing to the ground.

Sylvester could only stare at Dewlap’s writhing tail and shaking limbs in utter disbelief and horror. “What...what happened...” the Spiral barely managed to get out as his voice cracked.

Dewlap didn’t speak until he forced his body to stop shaking. His deep voice was quiet, but it soon turned hard. “Now you know...why I never looked...why I wanted to learn magic...why I prefer prey that’s already killed...I’m a soul searcher,” he finished, snarling at the last words.

When Sylvester said nothing, he only listened as Dewlap rambled on.

“I learned magic so I could rid myself of this curse...of the pain whenever seeing into the souls of dragons and other creatures...but the one dragon I turned to and trusted wouldn’t help me...and now—” he halted suddenly, shaking his head furiously and shutting his eyes tight. He flared his wings—

“Wait!” Sylvester cried.

Dewlap paused but didn’t turn around.

“You...can’t leave...” the Spiral struggled.

“Would you rather I stayed?” Dewlap spat.

Sylvester opened his jaws again to speak but this time, nothing wanted to come out. Did he really want Dewlap with him now? He was so sure before, after all this time learning and casting magic together, that the Spiral finally had somedrake to call his best...

Dewlap noticed his hesitations. “Let me make up your mind for you.”

His large aqua eyes turning more round with shock, Sylvester stared after the retreating Nocturne. A single tear trickled down his face as sorrow and rage and relief warred inside him.

Hanging his dark head, more tears cascaded down his cheeks and Sylvester snapped his own spotted wings open and raced in the other direction.
...


More days turned to weeks. He ate little, only when his stomach cramped in protest against the hunger strikes. Sylvester would only bring himself to drink from small puddles that formed during rainfall. And every time he saw his forlorn expression in every reflection, he couldn’t stop the grief that spilled from his eyes as he wailed, alone.

More weeks crawled by. Months turned to years.

When was the last time he felt anything other than this wretched sorrow? This unwanted hatred? He didn’t know. Did he even care anymore?

He never made any effort to track Dewlap or look for anydrake else. What he didn’t expect was somedrake to find him.

The Tundra told him that her name was Tuuli, that she was a magician travelling with her dragons in a caravan, wandering all of Sornieth. They told of their shows and performances for dragons of all ages, bringing them love and joy by showing off their tricks for all to see.

Sylvester never imagined he’d agree to join them, for he couldn’t feel any happiness after what happened with Dewlap. He’d tried, so desperately, to feel something, anything except the sadness and fear that threatened his mind, but it was never any use. Neither did he really want to live alone anymore. What kind of life was that?

Tuuli and the others were overjoyed when he became the newest member of their family. The green Tundra even gave him his own costume as two others applied red and white makeup to his face and neck before each performance.

Sylvester followed their leads, casting his own magic and playing with (and often dropping) the playing cards during every routine. He was always so much more clumsy than the other dragons, and that caused the audience to erupt in roaring laughter.

The first time he’d stopped to listen to them, he looked back to his friends and they only exchanged pitiful glances with him and each other. He listened again to the dragons in the audience, thinking them laughing at his many mistakes, but when he faced them again, he saw the absolute joy light up each face, especially the young children. Vester couldn’t help but smile along with them and soon he purposefully failed in his acts just to make them smile and laugh and feel happy.

When the others noticed his continuous errors, Tuuli wanted to have a private word with him in her tent. She questioned him why he was straying from the acts he was instructed to do. The other performers were even growing jealous of his tricks, and how everydrake in the audience would now want to see the only Spiral in their troupe.

The first time Tuuli ordered him to stay in his tent while he could only watch the others entertain the crowd, was the first time in a long time that Vester felt the same sorrow creep back into his mind and body. How he longed to put those smiles on those faces again, to hear their happy voices ring throughout the main tent. Ever since Dewlap had searched his memories, the dark Spiral hadn’t been able to feel his own happiness the same way, though he loved bringing it to the others watching.

One day, he could stand it no longer. Vester swiftly donned his richly dyed purple coat and messily reapplied his own makeup before bursting into the tent in a huge puff of aqua smoke in front of the other acting dragons. He twirled and darted around as he clumsily fumbled for and dropped some of the cards and flung the rest in every direction, shocking the performers behind him while those watching from the stands clapped their paws and laughed in delight.

As he continued to steal every show, the others looked on in jealousy, their fierce gazes trying to pierce the Spiral’s back. Even Tuuli, the one who brought them all together in their new family, the dragon that all the others looked up to and loved and respected and admired, had grown to lose patience with her newest member’s nonsense. She gave him one final warning, that she didn’t want to cast him out, that each of the other actors also deserved and wanted their time in the spotlight, that the Spiral was stealing the attention that was meant for them all.

That night, Vester was the only one to get ready for bed in silence as the others wished each other good night, and they excluded the dark Spiral.

That same night, Vester dreamt.

He didn’t remember exactly what had happened. Then again, did anydrake, really? But...he knew. Somehow, he had regained the happiness, the joy, the love he’d felt before...

...before the incident with Dewlap.

How was that possible? What had changed so suddenly overnight that he was now able to forgive the Nocturne for what was done?

He had to know. He had to find out.

During that same night, he was careful to tiptoe around each slumbering and snoring form so as not to wake them. He pulled on his purple coat and packed some food rations in a small satchel, also telling himself that he was only borrowing the red and white paint. Who knew when he would need it again? After taking what he could, he snuck out into the night, flying as fast and as far as he could.
...


He pushed himself to keep flying, only stopping at every clan he could. He asked and begged to know if they’d seen or knew of the Nocturne called Dewlap, and whenever he was met with a ‘no’ or that they’d spotted him travelling elsewhere, though years ago, Vester didn’t hesitate except to give them countless thanks before following where they had pointed. As he’d left each castle, every caravan, village, city the dragons who seemed to recognize the wizard’s name either had a strange glint of anger in their eyes as others looked as content and happy has Vester was now. Each clan he visited briefly also kindly provided him with enough food and rest, packing a little extra snacks for his journey.

He couldn’t tell if that one year of searching went by quickly or not. Did he simply not notice, or not care? All he wanted now was to see him again.
...


Lightning flashed, lighting up the dark sky as thunder raged above in the thick clouds. A lean draconian shape corkscrewed in fear at each flash and grumble.

Vester’s dark face was creased with worry as he darted on through the driving rain, flinching at the roaring of the storm, but also feeling a little ridiculous as he did so.

Shouldn’t he love this weather? He narrowed his large eyes. But what would happen if he got struck? He decided he didn’t want to know, so he flapped on, his coat soaking through and his scales underneath shivered.

Another loud crack of thunder sounded too close and Vester dropped down with a squeal, diving towards the Sea below before snapping his spotted wings open. He stopped just before his striped tail dipped under the surface.

When he found his bearings again, he squinted against the rain and stared straight ahead. He could barely make out something large and grey in the distance. As he flew faster and closer, his heart beat in excitement when it was a stone castle that he was now seeing more clearly on a large island, braving the storm’s fury.
...


Two dragons stood just outside the tall wooden doors, letting the rain soak their hides and clothes. A large blue Guardian looked down to the orange Nocturne wearing a wolf’s mask and cape with mild amusement.

“Didn’t Holly say to not wear that thing in the rain?” the Guardian rumbled.

The orange dragon’s eyes flashed and he grinned back. “I don’t know why she gets so upset, it’s not even hers.”

The blue dragon leaned down to inhale before suddenly jerking his head back up and coughing.

“Oh it can’t be that bad!” the Nocturne protested sharply.

The Guardian waved one massive paw in front of his snout before lowering it and squinting out to the Sea. “Is that...”

The orange drake followed his companion’s gaze and he, too, squinted before widening his eyes in surprise. Through the darkness of the night and the raging storm, both dragons finally saw the smaller shape flying straight towards them, its large aqua eyes completely round.

The Nocturne could only stare in disbelief. “Silver?” he murmured.

The stranger’s wings faltered and he crashed into the sand before the two dragons, who eyed him with some confusion. This was not the Spiral they’d thought they’d seen, for his scales were too dark, they could see now. But his eyes had the same pleading look.

The orange Nocturne barked orders to the blue Guardian and both lifted the shaking and exhausted Spiral to his feet to bring him inside.

“Th-thank you,” the Spiral said between shivers as he crossed his winged arms over his chest.

As the Guardian closed the heavy doors behind them, the Nocturne regarded the stranger curiously. “What brings you all the way out here, stranger?”

The Spiral introduced himself softly, trying to smile but it was crooked. “My name is Sylvester, and...” he trailed off, glancing around wildly. “I need to know...do you know a dragon named Diiieewww...”

Urdin and Bogatyr cocked their brows as they saw the other dragon close his eyes and fall flat onto his stomach, unconscious. The Guardian watched as Bogatyr lifted the newcomer to carry him, and he turned a strange look to the Nocturne, who frowned back.

“He did not faint because of the smell,” the orange drake grumbled.
...


The next morning, sunlight clawed its way through the heavy curtains, attempting and succeeding in reaching the sleeping form.

Vester’s large eyes shot open and he sprang out from under the covers, bumping into the door, before darting out into the massive hallway.

As he frantically pleaded with each and every waking dragon, begging if they knew of whom he was searching for, he didn’t even stop to notice their faces screwing up in confusion before dawning in recognition, nor did he pay attention to their soft whisperings.

His heart pounded hard against his ribs and he darted around every corner and passed more new faces. What if he was here? What if he wasn’t? He didn’t know what he would do if he discovered that yet another clan hadn’t seen—

Vester’s wild thoughts crashed to a halt when he slammed into a larger form just as he’d been coming around a sharp turn. Shaking his head and blinking to clear his vision, he blinked his widening eyes.

He stared at the stunned white and black shape standing before him. He looked to those same pale green eyes in shock until his smile crept wider, and his ears pricked forward to catch every strangled sound the old Nocturne struggled to make.

Dewlap could only stare down to the dark Spiral, his jaws agape, rendering him speechless.
~
Sylvester, Part 2, Volume II
???
~
Nodrake else could speak over the wild ramblings of the dark Spiral. He gripped the pale paws of the bewildered Nocturne before him. Dewlap only blinked his green eyes as they stared into the cyan of the Spiral’s, pondering if his own were deceiving him.

“Sylvester?” the old dragon asked in disbelief.

“In the scales,” the black Spiral grinned, releasing Dewlap’s paws. He smiled and stretched his eyes wider, searching the Nocturne’s. “Is it true? Your power...is it really gone? Is anything happening?” he asked, inching closer as Dewlap kept leaning back.

“Lye thlink you’d know blye nlow,” a grey Mirror murmured from behind them as he pushed a stroller closer with his mouth. A dappled Spiral walked beside him to stand next to Dewlap.

When Sylvester spied the stroller, a soft gasp caught in his throat as he saw three squirming shapes within. “Oh my sparks...are they yours?” he nearly squealed, looking from Dewlap to Trove.

“Just glad they’re not mine,” the Mirror, Rockpools, said, stretching his jaws free from the handle.

Dewlap gave him a look while Trove said, “Aren’t you going to introduce us, dear?” she smiled.

The Nocturne shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. “Sylvester, this is Trove, my mate,” he said, clasping her paws gently with his as his eyes shone.

“Oh! Dewlap’s told me all about you,” Sylvester said, giving her a big smile and she returned the gesture.

“This is Rocky,” Dewlap continued, gesturing to the grey Mirror. “Who should be with his Guardian right now,” he added, raising his dark brows at the young dragon. “What did you tell Red to do this time?”

Rocky feigned a look of shock. “I don’t know what you mean, the guy could really use a break from watching over me like a hawk all the time,” he added with a smirk.

Dewlap rolled his eyes before turning back to Sylvester. “Sylvester is the dragon I met shortly after escaping Marica...” he trailed off, his paws suddenly gripping Trove’s tight and she startled, giving him a worried glance before he tried to continue. “And—” Dewlap broke off, inhaling sharply in pain, reaching for his head and he hunched over and stumbled, but Rocky was quick enough to catch him before the Nocturne could fall.

“Dewlap—!”

“What’s wrong—?”

“Are you—”

Their voices pounded at his mind. Now what? The throbbing in his head started to lessen and his mind began to race.

That day he and Sylvester found each other...he hadn’t thought about that day in decades...and the memory came rushing back like the Thousand Currents smashing into his brain as he tried to remember. Marica—Dewlap had been strapped to a table—she’d been using magic on him—and he...

How had he escaped?

“Hey, come back to us, buddy,” Rocky said, shaking him gently.

Dewlap’s body shivered violently, and his eyes flew open, the pain in his head gone.

“We should get a doctor—” Sylvester started.

“No,” Dewlap cut in, pulling himself free from Rocky’s grasp. “I’m fine.”

“Stubborn as usual,” Rocky grinned. “He’s fine.”

“You should see Alyss,” Trove insisted.

“He’s busy enough as is it,” Dewlap protested. “He doesn’t need to worry over me, as well.” He paused when she gave him the look, and he sighed. “All right, I’ll see him soon. And on my way,” he added, spying Sylvester (who occasionally kept glancing back to the stroller with shining cyan eyes), “I think somedrake needs a tour of the castle.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Sylvester said softly, smiling to the three coiled shapes within the wooden stroller. “But—you never introduced me to these darlings.”

“Pearl, Tidepools, and Anemone,” Rocky recited, before giving Trove and Dewlap sheepish looks.

“This is our little Pearl,” Trove said, gently grasping the smallest Spiral’s paws, and Pearl smiled with her gums up at her mother.

“Tidepools is our son,” Dewlap replied, nodding to the little Nocturne.

“So this must be Anemone!” Sylvester said, smiling big to the little Spiral, and Anemone could only stare back, her large blue eyes stretched as wide and round as they could go. She didn’t move as Sylvester went on. “She looks so surprised!” he exclaimed gleefully. “Oh Anemone—I have something to show you and your brother and sister—” he paused, waving one paw over his dark face and when he pulled it away, his face was painted white with a few red stripes and a bright red nose. “Ta-da! Vester the clown is here to bring you magic!”

In the stroller, Pearl and Tidepools smiled big and released soft giggles as they watched Sylvester juggle some cards before the deck vanished before their eyes.

Beside them, Anemone shut her eyes tight, squeezing out tears and she started to cry.

Sylvester halted his act and his face clouded with shock and worry. “Oh no,” he said as Trove gently plucked the wailing Anemone from her spot. “I didn’t mean to scare her, I’m so sorry!” he apologized, taking a step back.

“It’s not your fault,” hushed Trove, hugging Anemone close as the little Spiral cried into her mother’s arms. “She’s had a long morning. Meeting new faces can be exhausting for young dragons.”

“I guess so,” Sylvester added. “I suppose not everydrake likes clowns either, eh?” he smiled weakly.

Crash!

The four turned their heads towards the sound. And there, lying on the stone floor, supposedly unconscious, was Bubbles.

“There he goes again,” Rocky tutted. “Poor guy can’t go one week without fainting.”

“Should he see the doctor, too?” Sylvester wondered.

“Bubbles is just afraid of everything, even his own shadow,” Rocky explained. “He even wears his armour all the time in case somedrake tries to attack him with a hug.”

They watched as more dragons surrounded Bubbles, picking him up and carrying the spotted Spiral out of sight.

“Speaking of the doctor...” Trove trailed off, eyeing Dewlap expectantly.

Dewlap released a soft sigh that hid a groan. “Alright, and perhaps we can catch up in Al’s office,” he told Sylvester as a white Pearlcatcher she-drake with bold markings strode up to Trove and Rocky, and they followed her away while Dewlap led Sylvester in the other direction.

“Who was that?” Sylvester asked him.

“Aura,” Dewlap answered. “She usually helps care for newborns and everydrake else if Alyss is too busy.”

“Huh. Anemone didn’t seem too upset with all those tattoos,” Sylvester observed. “They’re...quite the sight.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Dewlap smiled. “Anemone will learn that you don’t mean any harm, just like everydrake else she’s met.”

“I know, it’s just...even when I was performing with my old troupe, there wasn’t a young drake that didn’t like my acts.”

“Well, I guess you can’t please everydrake.”

“No,” Sylvester agreed quietly, hanging his head. “Buuuuut,” he added, perking up again, “what did you think about it? I’ve learned to control my magic like you taught me. Has it been nearly fifty years?”

Dewlap made a face. “Don’t remind me. And,” he added, tapping Sylvester’s crimson snout, “it could use a little work,” he grinned.
Continued in Aura Part 1
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