Blasphemy

holds all drabbles.

---

Dex
Dex's shivers ran through from the pointed nose to the tip of the tail, the Spiral haphazardly wiggling out of a knot his abdomen was tied into, reaching over to urgently put out the fire inside one of the test tubes.

"No, no, that is simply not right!" He mumbled to himself, frowning when he met the sight of his own eyes, mind fractaled to keep up with his constant surrounded vision. Dex hissed in disapproval, for the eyes on his head were the only ones tied to a mouth, the rest luckily unable to voice their displeasure or concerns, which did not mean that their deadpan stares went unnoticed. Ever since that one experiment, Dex's twenty seven pairs of eyes had a mind of their own, showing him what he did not need to see and somehow always missing the fires that started in his workspace due to their negligence.
At least he liked to blame it on them, huffing as he forced the eyelids shut, working off muscle memory to let his claws clink open little jars. Witch hazel, lavender, ground up almond shells in the form of a powder so fine it was smaller than sand. His battered spellbound tomes lay scattered on the floor, the Spiral sniffing out the correct one, flipping to page 22 of book 6.
Dex glanced at the clock. Goodness was he late! He was constantly snappy and urgent, his tail tying itself in a stressful knot again as the slick dragon brought his pot to a rolling boil. Teaspoon of unicorn dust. A brand new candle. His robes clicked as he moved, for it was never silent in his menagerie, constant bubbling and broiling and steaming and sizzling. An apple seed, crushed horizontally, not in any other way, never in any other way. Dex recited the mantra in a language long forgotten, pausing once midway through a stanza to look back at the book, getting a reminder, then stirring the pot one more time than he had the previous year. The copper pocketwatch ticked down, all eyes aggressively vibrating in their sockets like timers, Dex being smart enough to drop the tome and take cover as the entire studio was covered in a shower of confetti, fireworks and colorful streamers from the cauldron.

Happy Birthday.


Sidhe & Cicero
She passed him by without even a look, muscular shoulderblades exposed after a dive as she walked.
He twisted his neck around, all four eyes gleaming.
"Not even a hello, milady?" He joked, not expecting a reply. He didn't let her mood affect him, especially since the dragoness was always basked in neutrality.
"Good morning Cicero." Came the low voice, the skydancer stopping dead in her tracks, not bothering to turn her head around. He couldn't believe his ears, both fins at the top of his head perking up (as they often did around Sidhe).
"Ah. Well. Good morning to you too, Sid." He tried to play it off with a cool smile but couldn't tone down the blatant fondness and pleasant surprise in his toothy grin.
She remained faced away from him, but even still he saw the corners of her wide maw turn up ever so slightly in a smile.
"Have a good one." The tone of voice could most closely be explained as a chuckle, but Sidhe did not chuckle, so Cicero's cognitive dissonance played it off as a snort or a sore throat.
"Will do!" He smiled, though, ignoring his own light stammer at the beginning. If only Sid knew the power she held over him, the sheer trust he placed in her every single day, never failing him even once.
Or maybe she did.
It was quite like herself to torture him like this, after all.

---

v2
The midnight stars reflected in Cicero's eyes as he sat on the pier, looking up at the sky. He could feel the waves lick at his claws, Sidhe, floating in the water beneath the pier, holding on to his ankle so she was not swept away by the tide.
"Where did you come from, Sid? Really?" He found himself asking, captivated by the sky. Earlier when he had asked, she had always amused him with her responses.
Sprung from the waves, she said. Or concocted in a pot. But now, she faltered. "The Starwood Strand."
He nodded, although he knew she would not see it. It was obvious thanks to her magenta eyes.
"And you crossed the entirety of Sornieth to come here of all places?"
She chuckled, a warm sound low in her throat. "Well, I didn't come seeking this specifically. I just passed by and settled." He still remembered that day clearly, swallowing. "Does tha' mean there's better adventures for you out there, milady?" Cicero asked, leaning forward so he could see her face. Unlike him, she looked down at the water beneath her.
"Oh, heavens no. I've found my place, my Calling." The curt smile she sent him as she looked up made his heart overheat. He was grateful no flush would show up on his rubbery hide.
"Did you learn how to swim there? I heard there are islands."
She nodded, long eyelashes gleaming with the water droplets between them. "I did. It was challenging."
"Why?" He regretted asking the moment it came out. It was quite obvious, as much as he disliked thinking that way.
She paused, almost in disbelief, before giving his ankle a light squeeze. "Well, Skydancers are not made for the water."
He just stared. It was weird, he knew, trying to turn his head back up to the sky but he couldn't quite tear his gaze from the dragoness.
"But you are."
Sid continued, with a shake of her head.
"I wasn't made like this, Cero." The nickname gave him butterflies.
"I made myself for the water."
A pause.
"Do you understand?" She did not look away from the depths.
Cicero found himself wondering for a moment, before nodding.
"I do, Sid."
Her dark eyes flashed up to meet all four of his, maw slipping into a serious, thin line. The genuinety in her expression was impeccable.
"I am glad that I have found someone who does."
Cero found himself unable to look away, blinking unevenly as he nodded in recognition. He would understand her no matter what, and if not, he'd learn to. By the Lightweaver, let them stay together, he thought. Let no tide drift her away and leave him waiting on shore forever.

---

Castiel

"I quit my job, the day I die."
It rang out in his head like a mantra. Cas had never considered himself a particular martyr when it came to his work, always willing to offer a helping hand, smiling as the happy hatchlings his coworkers statched up from the hordes sent to serve the deities ran past. He had always wanted to fill up his home with all those kids, each with a nice outfit and a good friend to go with them, names given with careful thought. He felt the underside of the squishy hide beneath his eyes and sighed, twisting away from the eyes of his coworkers in his little manager booth. He had been at the paperwork for what felt like hours, but the single thought of seeing his efforts come into fruition and the hatchlings, now permanent residents of the bouquet hotel, frolicking in the territorial gardens, made it all better.
He spent a mere second staring into the outside, instantly uncomfortable whenever he caught a coworker's sight, turning back to his work.

"I quit my job the day I die." He mumbled almost fondly, shaking his head and starting to fill out the order forms again.

---

Sidhe

Sidhe
Diver | Port Matriarch

Female - She/Her - Alive

Sidhe, with tireless claws, has shaped her environment to fit her.

"A skydancer may not belong in the water, but it won't stop this one from trying."


backstory

'Sidhe,' came the voice.

She stirred in her sleep, her mother's voice reaching her accross hundreds of miles. Blacklight was no psychic, she knew, it was her mind that was playing tricks on her in the early hours of the morning.

'You are a skydancer, descendant of the flight of Wind.'

Sidhe felt the very tips of her feathers bristle as her mother's voice recited all that she had been taught throughout her life.

'You ought to fly, not swim. Skydancers break in the water. Their wings buckle. Their feathers wilt and shrink, the oil coating breaks. You will be held down by the weight of your plumage and drown. It will be a death unworthy of the Windsinger, Sidhe.'

'Look up instead.'

The dragon practically fell out of bed at how fast she shook her head to snap out of the memory. She, grown up in the Starwood Strand, around the many islands scattered around the Arcane realm, her parents long-time immigrants like the many breeds that spread out from their homes. She had grown up surrounded by water and by air, by indescribable depths of the sea and the unfathomable expanse of the sky, with floating islands and pebbles for rain.

Perhaps it was due to her many siblings that Sidhe had never liked looking up, knowing that to impress she really had to be better at something else than just flying. To the dismay of her parents, her eyes floated to the water instead. The first time she had touched the lukewarm liquid she could never go back, constantly choosing to play at the beach instead of fly up to the floating shards of rock with her peers. She had her own agenda, her own goals and aspirations, not needing anyone to tell her what to do or praise her for her choices.

Sidhe had always believed it was stupid for a simple breed, something one was born with, to stop one from flying. A cheap find at the local marketplace allowed her to bind her wings with fans, allow the unspreadable feathers to become more akin to bat wings, not letting through any water. She bound a tassel to her tail so it would not float up, purple eyes shining in wonder as she could hold her breath longer and longer each day. Perhaps it was always her calling - she thought one day - to defy all means of authority and just simply swim. It was not like she was hurting anyone directly, if anything, her skills had come in rather handy, for her own purposes. Not that many hatchlings fell into water on their own, not like she was the most qualified to take them out of the water.

The dangers of the deep was her friend and partner, Sidhe slashing away at narwhal sharks that were ready to skin alive their new meal. Her wings - earlier useless - propelled her through the dark, her eyes glowing on their own in the pitch black. The bioluminescence of the water fascinated her, and she was never really quite able to bring herself to swim up every time she visited. She wanted to stay forever.

But with staying, comes going, her mother's words somehow staying with her throughout the years, as she found her other half, improved her diving and finally discovered her calling, akin to a Guardian. After The Search, she, just like many, had found something to protect; a small port town on the edge of the Sunbeam Ruins, constantly crawling with threats to its handful of citizens. She had grown a thicker skin to combat the cold of the deep waters, also not letting through remarks that perhaps she had a Guardian's soul instead of that of a Skydancer, born to swim and to guard, not fly and frolic.

---

She stood on the pier. Sidhe took off her glasses with a soft snort, already donned in her crane armour, placing them into Cicero's awaiting palm. They shared a look. "I'll wait for 'ya here." He promised. The multiple bicorn fins were approaching, she could tell, squinting into the distance.

She let her palm linger on top of the mirror's for a second longer before letting go, shaking the shivers off her shoulders in the cold dewy morning, the waves lapping at the wooden poles holding the structure up.

Skydancers do not swim. Her mother whispered into her ear.

Sidhe felt herself smile. She dove.

---

Trivia
- Refers to Cicero by his Full Name. Refuses to stop it.
- She is his polar opposite, a cold protector with a warm heart for what she treasures, always watching his flank in case his kindness gets him into a poor situation, because gods know he won't notice it himself before it is too late.
- Speaks in an oddly formal register. Perhaps it is to hide the genuine love and gratefulness for all around her.