@BurntLeafyToast
 
| "I seem to have gone very much over the requested limit... Sarsaparilla seems to have struck a muse in me. Consider it a token of appreciation for being a returning patron? I also apologize for my tardiness in preparing your piece. It has been yet another rash of busy days, and it was difficult to find the time to write. As before, though, if you find this piece unsatisfactory in any way, please, do tell me, and I will edit until it is to your liking." |
Overall wrote:
There was a time when Sarsaparilla wasn't a part of a clan. Instead, he tended to make temporary homes in old ruins that seemed to have come from a time before any dragon that he knew was alive. It was more convenient, overall. So long as he could find another, he could move right in. Usually, the ruins were empty; aside from the occasional oddball clan, dragons seemed to prefer to keep their distance. Therefore, there was no one to compete for space with. With a little bit of dusting, they were perfectly habitable. Most even came with their own decorations, the key word being "most." Looters and thieves that went by titles such as "collectors" and "archaeologists" were Sarsaparilla's most frequent visitors. For a little while, he was only mildly annoyed by the sporadic invasions and thrifting of his then-home. The objects that were taken weren't originally his, after all; what right did he have to be angry at their disappearance? Time passed, and with each dragon that came and went, his answer to the question slowly changed. The artifacts might not have been his, but they were a part of the place that he was using as his home. The walls that sheltered him weren't able to defend themselves, though, no more than they could stop him from barging in and announcing that he had his new lair. What made him different from the other intruders? He didn't take anything. In fact, he took care to change as little about his short-term home as he possibly could. The others made very permanent changes, leaving dust-free spaces were there were originally scrolls, tablets, necklaces, vases. Nothing was spared, not even rubble. Anger bubbled up inside the Imperial to the point where he began chasing away anyone who wanted to do anything more than look. He became a self-prescribed guardian of the ruins that he was occupying.
There was a particular Skydancer that was undeterred despite the fact that Sarsaparilla chased her away every time she attempted to remove something from the ruins that he was residing in.
"But it could be the key!" she had exclaimed the sixth time she was being chased.
"Key or not, it's not yours to take," had been the reply she had received.
One day, Sarsaparilla came home to find the Skydancer in the room that he had taken as his sleeping quarters. The female was covered with an especially well-preserved cloak that Sarsaparilla had found stored away some time ago, some bits of rags that he remembered had been lying around, and some cobwebs that he didn't remember finding, among other things that he also didn't remember finding. Dumbfounded, he stood and stared and allowed the stranger to continue examining the tablet, an item that she had been attempting to take from the first time she had found Sarsaparilla's temporary shelter, that she was holding. He heard her mutter about the possibility of one thing or other, things that she had obviously thinking about for some time. When she finally noticed his bulk blocking the main entrance to the room, she flicked out a web-covered wing and gestured to her cloak-clad body. "These I'll be taking. This-" she carefully set the carved stone in her paws down "-I will leave. But I'll return. This one is important!"
The Skydancer made good on her promise. She came back day after day, never from the main entrance, but from whatever hidden passageway she had found. Sarsaparilla watched her and even began studying her. She seemed to have taken it upon herself to come around the same time every day, so that he was essentially warned of when she would be arriving. So many times, she could have taken the object of her fascination with her, but she never did. She continued to come back, allowing the Imperial to query her when she came out of her many musings. She didn't want fame or fortune. She sought knowledge and understanding, to be able to record the words and lifestyles of those long gone.
"Take it with you," he told her as she was taking her leave one day. "I'm sure that you'll give it the care that it deserves."
"...Come with me. I have something to show you."
This was how Sarsaparilla came to stay with a clan. He had seen the immense collection that Isadora, the persistent Skydancer that had pestered him for days on end, had gathered over years. He became the self-proclaimed guardian of the ancient items as well as the protector of the passionate architect, and although he occasionally misses his days of wandering, he doesn't regret his decision to stay with curiously magnetic dragon.
There was a particular Skydancer that was undeterred despite the fact that Sarsaparilla chased her away every time she attempted to remove something from the ruins that he was residing in.
"But it could be the key!" she had exclaimed the sixth time she was being chased.
"Key or not, it's not yours to take," had been the reply she had received.
One day, Sarsaparilla came home to find the Skydancer in the room that he had taken as his sleeping quarters. The female was covered with an especially well-preserved cloak that Sarsaparilla had found stored away some time ago, some bits of rags that he remembered had been lying around, and some cobwebs that he didn't remember finding, among other things that he also didn't remember finding. Dumbfounded, he stood and stared and allowed the stranger to continue examining the tablet, an item that she had been attempting to take from the first time she had found Sarsaparilla's temporary shelter, that she was holding. He heard her mutter about the possibility of one thing or other, things that she had obviously thinking about for some time. When she finally noticed his bulk blocking the main entrance to the room, she flicked out a web-covered wing and gestured to her cloak-clad body. "These I'll be taking. This-" she carefully set the carved stone in her paws down "-I will leave. But I'll return. This one is important!"
The Skydancer made good on her promise. She came back day after day, never from the main entrance, but from whatever hidden passageway she had found. Sarsaparilla watched her and even began studying her. She seemed to have taken it upon herself to come around the same time every day, so that he was essentially warned of when she would be arriving. So many times, she could have taken the object of her fascination with her, but she never did. She continued to come back, allowing the Imperial to query her when she came out of her many musings. She didn't want fame or fortune. She sought knowledge and understanding, to be able to record the words and lifestyles of those long gone.
"Take it with you," he told her as she was taking her leave one day. "I'm sure that you'll give it the care that it deserves."
"...Come with me. I have something to show you."
This was how Sarsaparilla came to stay with a clan. He had seen the immense collection that Isadora, the persistent Skydancer that had pestered him for days on end, had gathered over years. He became the self-proclaimed guardian of the ancient items as well as the protector of the passionate architect, and although he occasionally misses his days of wandering, he doesn't regret his decision to stay with curiously magnetic dragon.
Code:
There was a time when Sarsaparilla wasn't a part of a clan. Instead, he tended to make temporary homes in old ruins that seemed to have come from a time before any dragon that he knew was alive. It was more convenient, overall. So long as he could find another, he could move right in. Usually, the ruins were empty; aside from the occasional oddball clan, dragons seemed to prefer to keep their distance. Therefore, there was no one to compete for space with. With a little bit of dusting, they were perfectly habitable. Most even came with their own decorations, the key word being "most." Looters and thieves that went by titles such as "collectors" and "archaeologists" were Sarsaparilla's most frequent visitors. For a little while, he was only mildly annoyed by the sporadic invasions and thrifting of his then-home. The objects that were taken weren't originally his, after all; what right did he have to be angry at their disappearance? Time passed, and with each dragon that came and went, his answer to the question slowly changed. The artifacts might not have been his, but they were a part of the place that he was using as his home. The walls that sheltered him weren't able to defend themselves, though, no more than they could stop him from barging in and announcing that he had his new lair. What made him different from the other intruders? He didn't take anything. In fact, he took care to change as little about his short-term home as he possibly could. The others made very permanent changes, leaving dust-free spaces were there were originally scrolls, tablets, necklaces, vases. Nothing was spared, not even rubble. Anger bubbled up inside the Imperial to the point where he began chasing away anyone who wanted to do anything more than look. He became a self-prescribed guardian of the ruins that he was occupying.
There was a particular Skydancer that was undeterred despite the fact that Sarsaparilla chased her away every time she attempted to remove something from the ruins that he was residing in.
[i]"But it could be the key!"[/i] she had exclaimed the sixth time she was being chased.
[i]"Key or not, it's not yours to take,"[/i] had been the reply she had received.
One day, Sarsaparilla came home to find the Skydancer in the room that he had taken as his sleeping quarters. The female was covered with an especially well-preserved cloak that Sarsaparilla had found stored away some time ago, some bits of rags that he remembered had been lying around, and some cobwebs that he didn't remember finding, among other things that he also didn't remember finding. Dumbfounded, he stood and stared and allowed the stranger to continue examining the tablet, an item that she had been attempting to take from the first time she had found Sarsaparilla's temporary shelter, that she was holding. He heard her mutter about the possibility of one thing or other, things that she had obviously thinking about for some time. When she finally noticed his bulk blocking the main entrance to the room, she flicked out a web-covered wing and gestured to her cloak-clad body. [i]"These I'll be taking. This-"[/i] she carefully set the carved stone in her paws down [i]"-I will leave. But I'll return. This one is important!"[/i]
The Skydancer made good on her promise. She came back day after day, never from the main entrance, but from whatever hidden passageway she had found. Sarsaparilla watched her and even began studying her. She seemed to have taken it upon herself to come around the same time every day, so that he was essentially warned of when she would be arriving. So many times, she could have taken the object of her fascination with her, but she never did. She continued to come back, allowing the Imperial to query her when she came out of her many musings. She didn't want fame or fortune. She sought knowledge and understanding, to be able to record the words and lifestyles of those long gone.
[i]"Take it with you,"[/i] he told her as she was taking her leave one day. [i]"I'm sure that you'll give it the care that it deserves."
"...Come with me. I have something to show you."[/i]
This was how Sarsaparilla came to stay with a clan. He had seen the immense collection that Isadora, the persistent Skydancer that had pestered him for days on end, had gathered over years. He became the self-proclaimed guardian of the ancient items as well as the protector of the passionate architect, and although he occasionally misses his days of wandering, he doesn't regret his decision to stay with curiously magnetic dragon.
