Aria

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Aria had never seen the appeal of holidays.

He never wanted to rain on anyone else's parade. His parents had loved them, sometimes more than they loved him (at least, he thought), and the carousing particularly during the Riot of Rot continued late into the night for a full week. It was exhausting. Every year he dreaded it, along with all the other celebrations that would give his family an opportunity to drag him along for hours and deprive him of sleep.

There were things he did really like. The music, for one. Aria loved music and had since he was a hatchling, and the joy he felt getting swept up in singing and dancing was only dampened by the exhaustion and crushing presence of so many dragons around him. But every year he knew he'd only be teased for being such a baby, and so put on a brave face, and tried to tune out as much as he could without offending their hosts.

This year, he takes an offered candle from a nocturne hatchling scurrying by, mimic powder falling from their scales as they laugh and run to meet their friends. Aria's breath hangs cold and heavy in the air. It's his first Night of the Nocturne alone - surrounded by (kind enough) dragons, but still alone. Something in him wishes for those nights of drinking and dancing that he used to so abhor. Not the exhaustion and anxiety, but - the family, and friends, and good food. The warmth. This night is windy and cold, not so lit by candles and enchanted baubles of light and laughter.

As a distant clock strikes midnight, he wishes: Couldn't there be something in-between?