Part of Wyrmwounded!: A casual Pinkerlocke


Xenea was brought into the Pinkerlocke as a Unhatched Nocturne Egg on December 29th, 2018, on day 88 of the Pinkerlocke. This was right after Farrel, Sabrina, Flint, Meil, and Asher were eliminated from the clan. The clan considered Xenea a symbol of hope, and from that point on he was quite lucky. Kind of. But not really, because he's had to bond with clan members only to lose them, over and over. Unfourtunately though, on day 886 of the Pinkerlocke, Xenea and his son's well of luck finally ran dry, and they too had to leave the Clan.

He was adopted by Walsh and Talyat, who named him.
His first piece of apparel was a pair of pretty blue pants, followed the next day by a set of wise whiskers.

Lore Snippets from the Pinkerlocke (All include/mention Xenea in some way, shape or form).
Day 89:

"Dammit, Val, I'm a hunter, not a doctor!"

Valan sighed before continuing, still holding out the notebooks. "You know how important this research is. I'm sure Sabrina, wherever she is," (if she's even still alive) "would want someone to continue it."

Parchment folded her arms. "Well, that 'someone' definitely isn't me."

"Could be me, though."

Valan and Parchment turned to see Justinian standing there, idly rolling his pearl from claw to claw as he looked blandly back at their shocked expressions.

"I mean, whatever," he continued with a shrug. "But I actually paid attention when Sabrina gave us lessons, and I don't have anything better to do. Why not?"

"Why not indeed," Walsh said, laying a gentle claw on his son's shoulder. "We're going to be stretched a little thin for a while, and having something useful to do will help us all cope better."

Valan considered the young Pearlcatcher for a few moments, then nodded, handing him Sabrina's notebooks. "All right, Justinian. See what you can make of all this."

Valan watched him and Walsh as they returned to their small (so much smaller) family group; Talyat, who was carrying little Xenea in a makeshift sling, patted Justinian's head with a gentle smile. The other Guardian hadn't smiled much since the raid, and it did Valan's heart good to see this glimmer of joy, no matter how small or fleeting.

"We still need to decide--"

Valan cut Parchment off with a sharp gesture. "I know. Practicalities come first. You know the area better than anyone; make the arrangements."

Parchment nodded, and went off to speak with the others about potential sites for their new lair. It would be hard for her, Valan knew; as the next-oldest member of the clan now, Parchment had been trust into a position of authority unexpectedly, and was still trying to find her feet after being a loner for most of her adult life. Not to mention the pain and horror they were all feeling following the loss of so many clanmates...

Practicalities come first, Valan reminded herself. There will be time for mourning later.
---
Day 92:

"We don't know that he's dead," Talyat said.

"We don't know that he's not dead, either," Walsh retorted. "Knowing Miel, he's gotten himself into some sort of danger, and without us there to get him out of it again..."

"I know," Talyat soothed, embracing his mate as the Wildclaw started to sob. "But he's also learned everything we could teach him about survival and fighting--and knowing when to fight. Even though we're not at his side, we're with him in our hearts."

Walsh laughed a little at that. "Probably the safest place to be, considering the trouble he gets into."

Talyat chuckled too, but his own concerns remained unspoken. Walsh needed him to be the strong, sensible one right now. Well, all the time, really, but now more than ever. Not to mention Xenea; the little one could use all the stability they could give him, especially since the clan was in such a state of turmoil at the moment.

Talyat sighed mentally as he continued to comfort his mate. He just hoped he would have a chance soon to do his own mourning.
---
Day 100:

The feast wasn't much more than a slightly-larger-than-usual meal, but Valan had sensed the clan's need for a small celebration, a change of pace for a little while. So here they all were, gathered in their new lair, sharing food and companionship.

And laughter. It had been so long since they'd had anything to laugh about, but soon after the meal had begun, Ion had started teasing Xenea about the set of fake whiskers he'd taken to wearing recently in mimicry of his adopted father's beard, and soon the entire clan was laughing until tears streamed down their faces.

Valan wished with a sudden pang that Farrell could have been here to share this moment; he'd enjoyed poking gentle fun at the adolescent dragons of the clan when they took themselves too seriously. She missed his cooking, too, if she were to be completely honest. Walsh had taken over most of the food preparation, and while his efforts were always edible, he was also not terribly creative with how he seasoned things.

Most of all, though, she missed Farrell himself: his good sense, his gentleness, the joy he took in life, the warmth of him coiling around her as they slept.

Valan wiped her eyes surreptitiously and turned back to the gathering. Her first duty was to the clan, as always, and it wouldn't do for them to see her cry now. Tonight was a celebration, after all: of hope, and new chances, and the bonds of friendship and family. And that was always something to be thankful for.
---
Day 113:

This rain had been pouring down on them incessantly for what seemed like years, although Xenea knew it had only been a few days. They'd taken shelter under an outcropping of rock when it had started, but the space wasn't quite big enough to accommodate all of them, so they'd ended up soaking regardless.

Ion sighed and shifted. "If you ask me, it's a little unfair that I have to act as the windbreak," she said. "Just because I'm the biggest..."

"But you're so warm and comfy!" Thorbjorn said, snuggling closer to her side. "I haven't slept this well in weeks."

"Glad to know someone's enjoying themselves," Ion sniffed. She didn't push the Spiral away, though.

Xenea glanced over at Parchment. The new leader of their small clan was absently stroking Shiva's head where it rested in her lap, though she was looking out at the rain instead of at the young Skydancer.

After a moment, Parchment noticed Xenea watching her, and nodded to him. Xenea nodded back, unsure if he should say anything. Everything that came to mind seemed either too trite or too serious.

Parchment filled the silence herself before he could make up his mind, though.

"It's okay," she said softly. "I want to strangle whoever's causing this rain, too."

The unexpected statement, said so matter-of-factly, made Xenea let out a snort of laughter. Parchment grinned back, eyes dancing, and for a short while, their small shelter was a little warmer.
---
Day 118:

The fire had burned low, hardly more than embers now, but Shiva kept reading, oblivious to the dimming light.

He had never met Sabrina, but somehow this journal she'd kept made him feel connected to her in a way he couldn't explain. Most of it was full of experiments she'd conducted and recipes for various medicines, but interspersed with all that were anecdotes about life in the clan, as well as her own thoughts and dreams.

The eggs will hatch soon, she'd written at one point. I don't know who the hatchlings will be or what life has in store for them, but I can only hope that my work will in some small way make the world better for them.

Thorbjorn had never read the journal, claiming it didn't feel right to pry into his mother's private life that way. Which Shiva could understand, he supposed. But at the same time, he couldn't remember his own parents, and wished desperately that he could have the same sort of glimpse of who they were that he'd gleaned from Sabrina's words.

Closing the book at last, Shiva glanced over at Thorbjorn, who was coiled up next to Xenea to share warmth as they both slept. After a few moments of consideration, Shiva crept over and, slowly and carefully so as not to wake him, slid the journal under one of Thorbjorn's claws.

It might well make Thorbjorn uncomfortable to read it, and it was ultimately the Spiral's decision whether he wanted to go down that road at all, but Shiva felt it was important somehow.

Satisfied, Shiva crept back to the other side of the fire and settled in for the rest of his watch.
---
Day 121:

"There's always the possibility of joining another clan."

Xenea peered at Thorbjorn. "Don't most Plague clans... eat people?"

"Only if they're already dead. I think. Anyway, you're the one who asked for suggestions."

"It's not a bad idea," Shiva ventured. "But, well... when was the last time we encountered another clan out here?"

"Point taken," Thorbjorn said.

"I thought we'd be getting into more populated areas as we got closer to the Wyrmwound," Xenea complained.

"Well, most clans around here have much larger territories than they can occupy completely," Thorbjorn said. "At least, I think I remember Valan saying something to that effect. So it's entirely possible we've passed through several clan borders already and just never knew it."

Shiva sighed. "I wish Parchment and Ion were still around."

Thorbjorn nodded. "Me too. Making decisions sucks."

There was a pause after this statement, where all three dragons brooded over their own thoughts. Then Xenea spoke up.

"We could just... stay here for a while."

The others looked at him; Xenea ducked his head at the attention, but continued.

"Well, I mean, there's food and water available, and we could build a more permanent shelter fairly easily. And I don't know about you, but I could use the rest."

Thorbjorn and Shiva looked at each other, then nodded.

"It's a thought," Thorbjorn said.

"And one I happen to agree with," Shiva said. "Let's just hope we're on neutral ground, and not the front step of somebody who doesn't take kindly to visitors."

"If I see any crotchety old Imperials yelling at us to get off their lawn, you'll be the first to know," Thorbjorn said lightly.
---
Day 128:

Thank all the deities for bugs, Xenea thought as he stuffed another large beetle into the sack he carried. Insects were plentiful in these lands, which meant he never had to tell Julian there wasn't enough food for her, or go without himself.

A little meat every now and then would have been nice, but it wasn't feasible at the moment. Hunting was far too dangerous for a lone Nocturne, and while Xenea assumed that a Plague dragon might have been able to scavenge from carcasses without serious consequences, he figured his own chances of shrugging off the pathogens in a days-old kill weren't all that great.

Ever since Thorbjorn and Shiva had disappeared, Xenea had kept himself and Julian alive by hiding, using his Nocturne instincts to forage for insects in the night when most potential enemies would be at a disadvantage. It wasn't such a bad life, all things considered; they had food and shelter, at the very least.

The loneliness was harder than he would have thought, though. Julian wasn't much of a conversationalist yet (although her vocabulary had recently expanded beyond "MINE!" and "NO!", to Xenea's relief), and they had to be silent for much of the day by necessity, anyway. If they only had a few more clanmates...

If wishes were gems, we'd own the Wyrmwound, Xenea thought wryly, and returned to gathering their supper.
---
Day 129:

Tell me again about the clan, Julian would say sometimes when she couldn't sleep. Tell me about the time Thorbjorn passed out right in the middle of arguing with Ion, or Tell me about when your fathers taught you to hunt, or Tell me the story of Parchment and the giant mantis.

And Xenea would launch into whatever tale she'd requested, recreating the voices and gestures of the other dragons with near-perfect precision as he related the story to the delighted young Spiral.

Some of the clan history he only knew third-hand: the words and deeds of dragons who'd departed before he'd hatched. But he did his best with those stories, too, relating what he knew and filling in whatever gaps remained.

It was a way of keeping their lost clanmates close, if only for that short time.
---
Day 136:

Mealtimes had become rowdy and exuberant again, much to Xenea's secret delight. Gathering enough food for the growing hatchlings was a daily feat, but their delighted squeals and chirps more than made up for the work of it.

It reminded Xenea of earlier times, when the clan had been larger. Such memories always gave him a pang, but these days it was more often a pleasant one rather than one that pained him. He still missed his old clanmates, especially when there were hard decisions to be made and he needed advice on how best to proceed, but the clan was thriving again, at long last. And that was reason enough for joy.

It wasn't all delightful though, he thought wryly, as Rosabel squashed some of her roaches into Strawberry's face for "looking at her." Dazzlegaze swooped in to defuse the situation before it could escalate into a full-blown war between the hatchlings, gently prying the tiny, shrieking Fae away from the confused Imperial, who as far as Xenea could tell had been concentrating on his own helping of smoked fish when he'd been unexpectedly attacked.

On balance, though, he knew he'd much rather have to deal with temper tantrums and cleaning up the occasional mess than the former silence and loneliness of the lair.
---
Day 137:

"So... this is wine, huh."

"Yep!"

"Which you made by fermenting fruit."

"Uh-huh!"

"Fruit that we could have used for food."

"Oh come on, Xenea, don't be like that," Julian wheedled. "Karoll's the only one who eats plants in the first place, and she prefers greens to berries anyway. Besides, weren't you just saying that we needed trade goods?"

Xenea sniffed the sample of wine that Julian had brought him and made a face. "I'm not sure anyone in their right mind would want to trade us for this."

"Hey, I'm improving! It's been at least a week since any of my equipment exploded!"

"You have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that," Xenea said dryly. He handed the cup back to Julian with a smile, though. "All right, fine, you can continue your experiments. Just make sure the explosion rate continues to drop--and please, for the love of all the gods, sample the brew yourself before you try to foist it on the rest of us."

Julian grinned and saluted. "You got it."
---
Day 142:

The newly expanded lair actually felt homelike, Xenea had to admit. He'd spent most of his life moving from place to place, where the only constant was the other dragons in the clan. Until they weren't anymore.

But now, with wide, airy corridors and little niches where Karoll had placed fresh flowers or some of the wooden ornaments she'd carved herself, this place felt not just comfortable, but safe and welcoming. Like a hug from his fathers had felt when he was small.

Xenea sniffed back sudden tears, but smiled. After so long, their loss was more bittersweet than outright painful, and he could find joy in remembering them as they had been.

"Come on, Xen!" Julian called cheerfully from the cavern that had become the clan's dining hall. "I just opened the wine, and Dazzle's pronounced it 'unlikely to make anyone go blind right away.' Come try some!"

With a smile and a shake of his head, Xenea left the memories for now, and went to join the lair-warming party.
---
Day 144:

Julian's wine was gradually becoming more drinkable. Not that her clanmates didn't still complain about it at every opportunity, but it was more gentle ribbing than true distaste for the stuff.

Each brew was ever so slightly different from the others. Truth be told, that was what Julian liked so much about it: the way the slightest variation in temperature, process, or ingredients could have such a dramatic effect on the finished product. Maybe it was the fact that she'd come from a Lightning clan, but the thought of experimenting with her recipes and pushing the limits of flavor and components excited her in a way she couldn't begin to describe to anyone else.

Xenea still wasn't sure about trying to trade her wines to neighboring clans ("They'd be more likely to use it as paint remover than drink it" he'd said once), but Julian had made a few deals on the sly with a local group of Serthis who apparently wanted it for medicinal purposes. Julian didn't ask too many questions; she needed the space and was glad for the trade goods, and it was gratifying to know that someone (well, someone besides her) appreciated her wine.
---
Day 156:
Xenea has his first children and one survives.

"She's so tiny!" Karoll exclaimed. The newborn hatchling gazed solemnly up at her, blinking the blood-red eyes that were too large for its face.

"She is of average size for a new Fae hatchling, as far as I know," Rosabel said, though her fins were signaling shy pleasure.

"Here, why don't we try her on some grasshoppers," Xenea said. He held out one of the insects to the hatchling, who immediately grabbed it and crunched it down.

"Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with her appetite," Karoll remarked, watching the tiny Fae eat with a wondering look in her eyes.

"You do want to become a mother," Rosabel said. "I knew it."

Karoll grinned sheepishly. "Someday," she said with a shrug. "If everything goes well."
---
Day 164:
Xenea is a good dad.

Gorom was grown now, and tried so hard to act like it, to be dignified and busy herself with necessary tasks around the lair. And most of the time, she managed it.

But she still wasn't that old, relatively speaking, and she secretly longed to join Aamon and Shalidor in their games again, to not need to worry about adult concerns anymore.

The two hatchlings tumbled and squealed across the floor, caught up in an elaborate game of tag that seemed for whatever reason to involve several scraps of brightly colored fabric, some acorns, and a stuffed Mith doll. Gorom sighed and turned back to the laundry she'd been sorting, only to see her father watching her with a speculative look.

"It's not very fun, is it?" Xenea said sympathetically, nodding towards the pile of laundry.

"It needs to be done," Gorom said with a shrug of her fins.

"That's true. But other things do, too."

Gorom flicked her fins in a wordless question.

"We haven't had anyone to look after the hatchlings for a while," Xenea continued. "As a full time thing, I mean, not just in between whatever else they're responsible for. And you get along with the little ones so well, I thought you might--"

Whatever else he'd been about to say was cut off by Gorom throwing her arms around his neck in a hug.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Xenea patted her fondly. "Just try to keep them out of trouble as best you can."

Gorom's fins curled in wicked amusement. "I make no promises about that, Father."
---
Day 170:
In which Xenea complains about people thinking of him as a potential mate after an event.


"Another clan gathering come and gone," Karoll said. "I swear, these events get longer every time."

"Indeed," Xenea said. "I wouldn't mind it so much if the other clan leaders would refrain from sizing me up as a potential mate for their offspring, but apparently matchmaking is everyone's favorite hobby." He rolled his eyes.

Karoll nodded in sympathy. "Of course it doesn't help that everyone considers us weird and dangerously insular for not being interested in those sorts of alliances. Kind of hard to blame them; I wouldn't trust us, either."

Xenea gave her a haunted look. "If you knew what this clan had been through before you arrived..."

She made a placating gesture. "I know, you have your reasons for keeping these traditions. I'm just saying it might help ease relations with our neighbors if we considered a more serious alliance with one of them."

Xenea humphed. "You first."
---
Day 174:
In which Xenea shows of some major snarkiness twoards Karrol.

"It's not that I mind being commissioned--especially for such a handsome fee." Karoll folded her arms. "It's just... it's such a cliche."

Xenea grimaced in sympathy. "I know what you mean. Like somehow being a Plague clan obligates everyone to follow the aesthetic."

Karoll let out a snort of laughter. "Like you have any room to talk, Nature boy."

"I've lived in Plague my entire life, and have led this clan for most of it, thank you very much," he huffed. "I think I'm entitled to a few flower petals if I want them."

Karoll rolled her eyes at this, but decided not to comment.

"Anyway," Xenea continued, "it'll be good for relations with our neighbors. They have goods we need, and if this will help keep us in favor with them..."

"I know," Karoll said. She sighed. "It's just... bone sculptures? Really?"

"Such edge," Xenea said dryly. "Very bones. Much creepy. So Plague. Wow."
---
Day 177:

"I just don't think it's feasible," Xenea said. "I mean, a bathhouse this close to the Wyrmwound? Half the residents of these lands think soap weakens the immune system, and the other half haven't got the means to pay for it, even if they wanted to."

"We could change all that, though," Shalidor insisted. "We're a rather influential clan in these parts, and we have those hot springs we discovered during the last round of lair renovations. If we emphasize the community-building aspect of it, and make it affordable for those who don't have ready access to currency, it just might work."

"Hmmm." Xenea peered at the young Wildclaw for a long moment, his expression giving nothing away. Finally, he nodded.

"All right," he said. "As long as you're willing to do the work of running the baths, you can start promoting this idea of yours to the other clans."

Shalidor grinned. "Thank you! I promise I won't let you down."

Xenea held up a claw as the younger dragon turned to leave. "Don't get your hopes up too high, though; we may be influential, but we're not exactly well liked."

Shalidor paused in the doorway to smirk. "If you'd consider taking a mate or two from another clan, that might change."

"Oh gods, not you too," Xenea groused. "Go on, get out of here before I change my mind."

Still snickering, Shalidor did so.
---
Day 183:
Public baths were a good idea after all, Xenea realizes.

Even Xenea had to admit that Shalidor's rather harebrained scheme was starting to pay off. Their neighbors had been a bit skeptical at first, but had slowly warmed to the idea of public baths.

The place was getting quite popular these days. Dragons came from miles around to soak in the hot springs, get their claws trimmed and their scales buffed, and socialize with the other patrons. Rosabel had even formulated a variety of pleasantly scented soaps, bath oils, and other toiletries for the bathgoers, and was making quite a bit of money off of them. And for some inexplicable reason, Julian's bizarre brewing experiments were a huge hit with the patrons. Plague dragons must have no taste buds, Xenea thought.

Yes, the baths had brought a great deal to the clan, even beyond the obvious monetary gains. The strengthening of social connections had helped in easing lingering tensions between them and other clans that had dwelt in the area for far longer; they were still regarded as near-outsiders, and rather eccentric ones at that, but there was no outright hostility directed their way.

And yet everyone still seems to think I should take a mate to "improve diplomatic relations," Xenea thought sourly.

Not that he was opposed to the idea of mating permanently someday. Not at all. He just wanted something more like what he remembered his adoptive fathers having: a bond of choice and mutual love, rather than obligation.

Xenea sighed, and went back to sorting through the receipts from the baths for the past month. If it was meant to be, it would happen, and no sense fussing over it until then.
---
On day 192 of the Pinkerlocke, Xenea had his second nest of children, this time with a different mother. Two of the three kiddos survived, one happened to be Stormcloud. Another lucky man. Kind of. He gets it from his dad, alright?
---
Day 203:

Reorganizing the clan was proving to be more of a headache than Xenea had anticipated. There were gaping holes in the fabric of their daily lives that had to be filled, one way or another, but the shock (and the sorrow, Xenea thought with a pang) was still too recent to make much headway on more permanent arrangements.

The bathhouse, at least, had proved fairly simple to figure out. Ksenija, surprisingly, had stepped in to take over its administration, although she still refused to set foot inside the place herself, preferring to let others handle the day-to-day maintenance; "I left my birth clan to get away from the whole... water situation," she'd said with a shudder. She had, however, instituted a sand wallow for her fellow Ridgebacks, well away from the bathhouse proper. This was proving to be a rather lucrative source of income already, even factoring in the patrons' tendency to make off with scrub brushes, claw-buffing stones, and other assorted toiletries.

Karoll, though... Karoll hadn't been the same since Rosabel and Zen's disappearance. Truth be told, neither had Xenea; the elegant little Fae had been a dear friend, and Zen...

Xenea sniffed hard, blinking away the sudden tears. He was a grown dragon with a clan to lead, and had been for some time now. But lately, he almost wished he could be a hatchling again, snuggled close to his fathers at night, secure in the knowledge that they would always protect him.
---
Day 205:

"Not a bad time of night for brooding, eh?"

Xenea looked up, startled, as Julian flopped down next to him with--and here he grimaced--a bottle of her latest brew. "I'm not brooding," he said. "I'm... thinking."

"Thinking, brooding, whatever. Looks about the same from where I'm sitting." Julian shrugged and offered him the bottle. "Whatever it is that's eating you, you won't crack it by scowling moodily at a wall all night."

"The technique's worked just fine for me before," Xenea said, pointedly ignoring the bottle she was waving at him. "And anyway, what do you care what's bothering me?"

"I miss them too, you know," Julian said softly. "Whatever you may think of me, it's hard not to notice how empty the lair feels now. You get used to having people around, even if you don't spend so much time with them. And then they're gone, and you wish you had..."

Xenea couldn't think of anything to say to that. Instead, he took the bottle from her and tried a cautious sip. Then a larger one.

"This is actually... decent," he said, eyeing the bottle contemplatively.

Julian snickered. "Coming from you, that's practically a five-star seal of approval."

Xenea laughed too, despite himself, and settled in to catch up with his old friend.
---
Day 221:

Xenea wasn't quite sure, even now, how he'd gotten talked into becoming a father again. Ksenija had wheedled him into it somehow, of course, claiming that he had more experience with the process than Stormcloud (sweet, clueless lad that he was).

Never mind that Stormcloud was the only one of his children who was currently living with the clan--was, indeed, the only one of his children that he knew the current whereabouts of. Xenea still had more experience with parenthood than anyone else in the clan, and that was why he'd been asked to do this.

The hatchlings would be raised by Ksenija and Stormcloud for the most part, of course. Xenea let out a wry chuckle; most other clans might consider it odd that he was technically the parent and grandparent of these little ones, but compared to the sorts of goings-on that this clan was regularly subject to, it was very nearly pedestrian.

Regardless of the circumstances of their birth, it would be good to have hatchlings around again. Another light of hope, another sign of survival, he thought with a smile.
---
Day 270:
Xenea jolted awake, heart pounding wildly. He looked around, frantic urgency catching in his throat, before seeing Stormcloud not far away, curled up around his pearl and still sleeping.

Xenea took in a deep breath, let it back out again slowly. These dreams, fire and screaming and blood... Ever since they'd been forced to abandon their home after a series of raids had decimated the clan, he hadn't had a good night's sleep because of them.

He reached over to stroke his son's mane, reassuring himself through touch that he was in fact still there. Stormcloud grumbled and frowned in his sleep. "Five more minutes..." he whined like a petulant hatchling, rolling over to get away from Xenea's claw.

Xenea's mouth twitched in a fond smile. Their current circumstances might be grim, but at least they still had each other.
---
Day 289:

Xenea smiled fondly, watching Somnia pounce on a grasshopper; the insect got away, of course, but the young Mirror went right back to his hunting practice, not discouraged in the least.
---
Day 297:

Xenea was usually too busy to feel his age, but on days like this, with a chill wind blowing out of the east, he felt an ache in his bones and a strange melancholy for days gone by.
---
Day 333:

Xenea smiled fondly as he watched Charal teaching Thaidsie to play some sort of game with bits of bone and shell on a grid scratched out in the dirt; somehow, even in dark times, life went on.
---
Day 344:

It was a simple ritual, but one that brought him comfort all the same: every morning, before anyone else in the clan was stirring, Xenea would pour out a small measure of water in remembrance of departed clan members, murmuring their names into the stillness of the new day to let them know they were not forgotten.
---
Day 412:

"Yes, yes, a new kind of dragon; it's certainly a cause for celebration," Xenea muttered to himself. "But carrying on like this at all hours is simply unbecoming."
---
Day 460:

There was frost in the air today; Xenea had mentioned something about it being the first day of the Ice festival, trying to instill a sense of reverence and respect for other flights into the youngest member of the clan, but Weary was much too enthralled by trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue to pay much attention.
---
Day 503:

Xenea shook his head at his grandsons, who were arguing cheerfully over their latest invention; although the young Pearlcatchers were Plague dragons, and had lived in the Scarred Wasteland their entire lives, their mother had been from Lightning lands, and some of that legacy seemed to have rubbed off on them.
---
Day 579:

At the top of each of the fence posts surrounding the clan's lair, a carved dragon's head looked solemnly down at passersby. What few outsiders knew was that the heads were actually portraits of clan members of old, lovingly rendered in wood by the clan's leader, who had been around long enough to be familiar with a great many of them. It wasn't much, Xenea would demur when asked, but it was a way to keep the memory of those departed loved ones alive.
---
Day 597:

Xenea peered down at the plate of coffee bean hawkmoths and roasted java sparrows he'd just been handed.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

Aphrodite gave him an innocent look. "Just trying to start your day off on the right foot!" she said cheerfully, turning to pile Stormcloud's plate with his favorite steamed greens.

Start my day off on the right foot? Xenea thought with some amusement as he crunched down a hawkmoth. Somehow I suspect that's a euphemism for "You're too grumpy when you first wake up."

He didn't say anything though; broad hint or not, this was the tastiest breakfast he'd had in a long time.
---
Day 598:

"I've been meaning to ask: why'd you stop wearing that mask, Dad?" Stormcloud said. "You had it for so long that it's been strange trying to get used to the way you look without it."

Xenea shrugged. "I started wearing it it for the intimidation factor, I suppose; all too often, other dragons only take you seriously when you're scaring them silly, at least in these lands."

He shifted into a more comfortable position on the basking rock he and Stormcloud were sprawled on, catching the last rays of the warm afternoon sun.

"Our clan's better established now, though," Xenea continued. "We have allies and even friends in the neighboring territories, and I don't need to look like the big, mean leader who'll battle anyone as soon as look at them anymore."

"You'd still do that, though," Stormcloud pointed out.

"Of course I would," Xenea said. "I just don't need to advertise the fact."
---
Day 714:

"I've heard it adds a good flavor to food," Xenea said, looking over the sample of blue mineral that had been brought back by the foraging party, "but personally, I've never had an... apatite for it."

Stormcloud groaned and covered his face with a claw. It seemed the older his father grew, the worse his puns got.
---
Day 732:

"All these scorpions crawling around this festival," Xenea grumbled. "It's almost as bad as the buzzards last year."

"What buzzards?" Pip asked. She'd only been half paying attention to his baleful mutterings before now, but this little tidbit was intriguing.

Xenea only huffed and flew off, muttering something under his breath about "young dragons these days."
---