Taste
The explosion of taste in her mouth knocked her down like a tidal wave. A delictable sweet sauce coated her tongue, refreshing mint tinting her breath. The shell was tough enough to protect the hidden gold from selfish insects, yet soft enough for a hatchling's teeth to crack it open. The smooth texture was pleasant, a welcome change from the tough cardboard she frequently ate that scratched at her inner cheeks. Her tongue coiled around her teeth to hunt down the pieces that hid in the crevices of her gums, like a chimera tracking down its prey. The food was gone sooner than what she wanted, like a rainbow that faded away behind the clouds.
"What was that?" She asked the Gaoler, who was looking at her with eager eyes.
"Chocolate. Want some more?"
Taste
The explosion of taste in her mouth knocked her down like a tidal wave. A delictable sweet sauce coated her tongue, refreshing mint tinting her breath. The shell was tough enough to protect the hidden gold from selfish insects, yet soft enough for a hatchling's teeth to crack it open. The smooth texture was pleasant, a welcome change from the tough cardboard she frequently ate that scratched at her inner cheeks. Her tongue coiled around her teeth to hunt down the pieces that hid in the crevices of her gums, like a chimera tracking down its prey. The food was gone sooner than what she wanted, like a rainbow that faded away behind the clouds.
"What was that?" She asked the Gaoler, who was looking at her with eager eyes.
"Chocolate. Want some more?"
him
He is the rough one; the one who picks dragons up by the scruff of their neck, the one that spits on the ground with eyes burning straight at you. He is the one who blocks the way across the river, only budging for those willing to pay the coin. He likes to fight, and he plays dirty.
And yet, he would never do those things to Callado.
him
He is the rough one; the one who picks dragons up by the scruff of their neck, the one that spits on the ground with eyes burning straight at you. He is the one who blocks the way across the river, only budging for those willing to pay the coin. He likes to fight, and he plays dirty.
And yet, he would never do those things to Callado.
click clack
As you lay fast asleep, another wakes. She doesn't make a sound as she leaves from underneath the bed, ghostly arms clambering out onto the floor. It's strange how her whole body could have fit under there, but it doesn't matter for those that don't deal with her.
Claws begin to pull at her neck, and her very skin unfurls, turning inside out to reveal a meaty mess of muscle and teeth covering the body, pale yellow eyes covering her neck and head, faintly glowing. Veins throbbed down her inverted body and faded away into her limbs. The tip-tap against the floor could have been mistaken for a mouse as she crawled.
Everything is safe when she is out. At least, safe for those who are asleep.
click clack
As you lay fast asleep, another wakes. She doesn't make a sound as she leaves from underneath the bed, ghostly arms clambering out onto the floor. It's strange how her whole body could have fit under there, but it doesn't matter for those that don't deal with her.
Claws begin to pull at her neck, and her very skin unfurls, turning inside out to reveal a meaty mess of muscle and teeth covering the body, pale yellow eyes covering her neck and head, faintly glowing. Veins throbbed down her inverted body and faded away into her limbs. The tip-tap against the floor could have been mistaken for a mouse as she crawled.
Everything is safe when she is out. At least, safe for those who are asleep.
Just wanted to let you know how much I love these. You get so much emotion into such a small blip, and your writing style is easy to read and comprehend.
You could probably sell short stories based on people's lore for their dragons. This is that good. Legit, I would buy it.
I was just commenting to compliment you, since I realized this is the third page and noone else had posted. I bet I'm not the only one subbed, so maybe others will comment after this.
Thanks again for sharing these. I love reading them. ^^
Just wanted to let you know how much I love these. You get so much emotion into such a small blip, and your writing style is easy to read and comprehend.
You could probably sell short stories based on people's lore for their dragons. This is that good. Legit, I would buy it.
I was just commenting to compliment you, since I realized this is the third page and noone else had posted. I bet I'm not the only one subbed, so maybe others will comment after this.
Thanks again for sharing these. I love reading them. ^^
@
Shegrasi
!! your compliment has made my day, and probably tomorrow too. i wasnt expecting people to read this thread, but just knowing that there are people makes me smile.
i'll continue to write stories and post them to here (albeit infrequently, and probably with errors since they're unedited), but i definitely have a lot more confidence now thanks to you. perhaps i'll open a lore shop, perhaps not.
i will continue to write though :)
@
Shegrasi
!! your compliment has made my day, and probably tomorrow too. i wasnt expecting people to read this thread, but just knowing that there are people makes me smile.
i'll continue to write stories and post them to here (albeit infrequently, and probably with errors since they're unedited), but i definitely have a lot more confidence now thanks to you. perhaps i'll open a lore shop, perhaps not.
i will continue to write though :)
positives
Two beady eyes, one wagging tail. The Guardian didn't notice the hatchling fawning over them, their mind floating away as their fingers played the music that flowed out of the piano. It was a charming melody, a lullaby their father sung to them whenever it was raining out, just like the pitter-patter outside right now. A delicate melancholy settled over them, heart hefty in their chest and wings limp. The loud, bold colours of their scales clashed harshly against their sombre face.
"Why do you look sad?"
The soft voice of the child caught their fingers, foot lifting off of the pedal. Moments flickered by, and they returned back to reality, muscles stiffening to pull them together. The door to the studio was locked, with no one else but themself inside.
"Ehm, why do you look like you shouldn't be here?" They spun on the stool, eyes staring straight at empty space. Look down, and there was the culprit: a humble brown Coatl. Her face scrunched up like a paper ball, pulling her feathery wings around her like a blanket.
A tiny gasp jumped out. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't say that at you," they slid off the stool, "I... said it at myself. Yes." they affirmed.
The Coatl put back her wings and looked up at them, not saying a word. She awkwardly sat upon the cold floor, little feet tiny against their hands.
"Oh, right. Why I looked sad?" The Guardian paused as they crouched down to reach the hatchling's eyes. "Because I was sad. That song is special to me."
"Why?"
"Because someone special made it for me."
"Why?"
"Because they still loved me."
"What do you mean?"
Those words echoed loudly in the room. They propped their head on their fist, looking at the ground as their brow furrowed. The Coatl watched expectantly.
"Guardians have something called a Charge, something that they'll spend the rest of their life looking after. All Guardians need one, or they're not real dragons. I was taking a while to find mine, and I felt frustrated. My friends found theirs, so how come I hadn't found mine?"
"This dragon cheered me up when I became upset from the whole Charge thing. He liked to play me songs on his own instrument. That made me feel special."
The Guardian paused once more, tail tip wafting up and down.
They abruptly hopped up. "I can tell you the rest of the story when we get you out of here. Come on." And they lifted the child up onto their back in one smooth motion before she could protest, walking briskly to the front door to remove her.
"Wait! What about your Charge? Did you find one? Please tell me." She blurted out as they unlocked the door, the clunk of the key clearly audible.
"Ah. Yeah, I found one. It's me: I'm my Charge."
positives
Two beady eyes, one wagging tail. The Guardian didn't notice the hatchling fawning over them, their mind floating away as their fingers played the music that flowed out of the piano. It was a charming melody, a lullaby their father sung to them whenever it was raining out, just like the pitter-patter outside right now. A delicate melancholy settled over them, heart hefty in their chest and wings limp. The loud, bold colours of their scales clashed harshly against their sombre face.
"Why do you look sad?"
The soft voice of the child caught their fingers, foot lifting off of the pedal. Moments flickered by, and they returned back to reality, muscles stiffening to pull them together. The door to the studio was locked, with no one else but themself inside.
"Ehm, why do you look like you shouldn't be here?" They spun on the stool, eyes staring straight at empty space. Look down, and there was the culprit: a humble brown Coatl. Her face scrunched up like a paper ball, pulling her feathery wings around her like a blanket.
A tiny gasp jumped out. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't say that at you," they slid off the stool, "I... said it at myself. Yes." they affirmed.
The Coatl put back her wings and looked up at them, not saying a word. She awkwardly sat upon the cold floor, little feet tiny against their hands.
"Oh, right. Why I looked sad?" The Guardian paused as they crouched down to reach the hatchling's eyes. "Because I was sad. That song is special to me."
"Why?"
"Because someone special made it for me."
"Why?"
"Because they still loved me."
"What do you mean?"
Those words echoed loudly in the room. They propped their head on their fist, looking at the ground as their brow furrowed. The Coatl watched expectantly.
"Guardians have something called a Charge, something that they'll spend the rest of their life looking after. All Guardians need one, or they're not real dragons. I was taking a while to find mine, and I felt frustrated. My friends found theirs, so how come I hadn't found mine?"
"This dragon cheered me up when I became upset from the whole Charge thing. He liked to play me songs on his own instrument. That made me feel special."
The Guardian paused once more, tail tip wafting up and down.
They abruptly hopped up. "I can tell you the rest of the story when we get you out of here. Come on." And they lifted the child up onto their back in one smooth motion before she could protest, walking briskly to the front door to remove her.
"Wait! What about your Charge? Did you find one? Please tell me." She blurted out as they unlocked the door, the clunk of the key clearly audible.
"Ah. Yeah, I found one. It's me: I'm my Charge."
tomfoolery
Nobody was sure where he came from. Three days before he arrived, strange phenomena began occurring that the clan could only rationalise being the prophecy of misfortune coming their way.
Day one: The forgotten pebbles that laid strewn on the ground turned into raw rubies overnight, the misty fog of the morning failing to hide their glints and glimmers. Only a few hours passed before dragons snapped them all up, ground clean of any red. At the stroke of midnight, the rubies that the dragons were fawning over snapped back into their original forms, along with the cracking of tempers of a handful of clan members.
Day two: A flock of songbirds gathered around the clan leader's den. Not a speck of woven wood could be spotted under the multitude of feathers and lemon beaks, their heads twitching around as though they were merely resting their wings from a long flight. They refused to move from the home; when they were physically lifted and placed away from the den, they immediately fluttered back to their spots to complete the cloak. One hour before midnight, a cacophony of otherworldly pitches erupted from the birds, screeches and yelps scratching at the ears of many. Midnight sounds, and the flock fell apart, flitting and flicking over the trees.
Day three: Nothing happened. The sun shone, the dirt stayed solid, and the trees were green. Time passed as usual, and water ran. Night came around. The clan sighed a relief when they went to bed, but a paranoid few kept an eye out. Nothing happened.
Day four: A peculiar Imperial waltzed onto the clan grounds when the light first peeked over the Behemoth, the invulnerable tree at the heart of the Nature lands. His wings were an angelic white, golden jewellery draped over their soft tufts. His horns glimmered and glinted against the ruby-encrusted silver that decorated his body. A single, impressive diamond sat firmly upon his neck, large enough for it to rest squarely in the palm of his hand.
Yet, underneath all of the glamour of riches and glitter, were shabby clothes only suitable for the poorest of peasants. All of the looks fit for a king, supported only by the smug smile plastered upon his face and his silver tongue that rested in that mouth.
tomfoolery
Nobody was sure where he came from. Three days before he arrived, strange phenomena began occurring that the clan could only rationalise being the prophecy of misfortune coming their way.
Day one: The forgotten pebbles that laid strewn on the ground turned into raw rubies overnight, the misty fog of the morning failing to hide their glints and glimmers. Only a few hours passed before dragons snapped them all up, ground clean of any red. At the stroke of midnight, the rubies that the dragons were fawning over snapped back into their original forms, along with the cracking of tempers of a handful of clan members.
Day two: A flock of songbirds gathered around the clan leader's den. Not a speck of woven wood could be spotted under the multitude of feathers and lemon beaks, their heads twitching around as though they were merely resting their wings from a long flight. They refused to move from the home; when they were physically lifted and placed away from the den, they immediately fluttered back to their spots to complete the cloak. One hour before midnight, a cacophony of otherworldly pitches erupted from the birds, screeches and yelps scratching at the ears of many. Midnight sounds, and the flock fell apart, flitting and flicking over the trees.
Day three: Nothing happened. The sun shone, the dirt stayed solid, and the trees were green. Time passed as usual, and water ran. Night came around. The clan sighed a relief when they went to bed, but a paranoid few kept an eye out. Nothing happened.
Day four: A peculiar Imperial waltzed onto the clan grounds when the light first peeked over the Behemoth, the invulnerable tree at the heart of the Nature lands. His wings were an angelic white, golden jewellery draped over their soft tufts. His horns glimmered and glinted against the ruby-encrusted silver that decorated his body. A single, impressive diamond sat firmly upon his neck, large enough for it to rest squarely in the palm of his hand.
Yet, underneath all of the glamour of riches and glitter, were shabby clothes only suitable for the poorest of peasants. All of the looks fit for a king, supported only by the smug smile plastered upon his face and his silver tongue that rested in that mouth.
delicate
He was merely a young boy, a naive Nocturne. His scales were soft from the silken light within the Sunbeam Ruins, and smile pretty from happy memories. Frayed maps hung from a green sash across his waist, edges yellowed with age. Warm chiming flowed out of the lantern on his bamboo staff, matching his own tenor voice. He was just like every other inexperienced adventurer, with bright beady eyes and dreams as great as the galaxies themselves.
"Are you sure this is the one?"
"My visions have never failed me."
"So, he has the key we need."
"Yes."
delicate
He was merely a young boy, a naive Nocturne. His scales were soft from the silken light within the Sunbeam Ruins, and smile pretty from happy memories. Frayed maps hung from a green sash across his waist, edges yellowed with age. Warm chiming flowed out of the lantern on his bamboo staff, matching his own tenor voice. He was just like every other inexperienced adventurer, with bright beady eyes and dreams as great as the galaxies themselves.
"Are you sure this is the one?"
"My visions have never failed me."
"So, he has the key we need."
"Yes."
treasures
"Ya pullin' my leg. There's no way ya'd be serious about this."
"No, I am certainly not pulling your leg." The weathered book flapped shut, the gold runes on the cover glinting as the Pearlcatcher tucked it away into her leather bag.
Huffing, the Wildclaw pulled at his fingers as he warned "We've already been there, an' the tower was chock full of nasty traps. You may not 'ave been there, but there was not a single drop of coin. Only slobberin' beasts and light that'll blank your brain.". He stood at the empty library's entrance, wings barring her.
"You don't have to repeat yourself." She slid a dud into the empty slot, nonchalant about the hidden sentinels about the place. "I'm not interested in the treasure. There's something else, and it's big. Earth shattering, perhaps." A tap of her finger, a light whisper, and the dud faded into an almost exact copy of the original she possessed.
"Okay, okay. Maybe ya found some old scroll that talked about the end of the world that was stopped by some relic or whateva, an' now it's stuck in there. That don't matter to me, your safety is somethin' that does. What ya about to do is definitely not safe." He hissed. The markings on his body ever so slightly flared, their multicoloured glow catching the attention of a sentinel like a smoke did a dragon.
She turned to face the stubborn raptor, and cut the air in front of her with her arm in one harsh motion. Her face had no smiles or giggles as she cast the silencing spell upon her clan leader, blue eyes cold towards his slow, but certain, shock.
"I don't care. I'm not some money-hungry, dirt-grovelling treasure hunter like yourself." Her footsteps approached him with a sharp menace, arms outstretched. "I will go. You will not stop me.".
The corners of her lips turned up as the sentinel arrived, its massive rock body casting a shadow over the Wildclaw. He snapped around and crouched, prepared to use his sleight to slip past it, but fell limp as the Pearlcatcher delivered a swift blow to his crown.
"Down the king goes."
treasures
"Ya pullin' my leg. There's no way ya'd be serious about this."
"No, I am certainly not pulling your leg." The weathered book flapped shut, the gold runes on the cover glinting as the Pearlcatcher tucked it away into her leather bag.
Huffing, the Wildclaw pulled at his fingers as he warned "We've already been there, an' the tower was chock full of nasty traps. You may not 'ave been there, but there was not a single drop of coin. Only slobberin' beasts and light that'll blank your brain.". He stood at the empty library's entrance, wings barring her.
"You don't have to repeat yourself." She slid a dud into the empty slot, nonchalant about the hidden sentinels about the place. "I'm not interested in the treasure. There's something else, and it's big. Earth shattering, perhaps." A tap of her finger, a light whisper, and the dud faded into an almost exact copy of the original she possessed.
"Okay, okay. Maybe ya found some old scroll that talked about the end of the world that was stopped by some relic or whateva, an' now it's stuck in there. That don't matter to me, your safety is somethin' that does. What ya about to do is definitely not safe." He hissed. The markings on his body ever so slightly flared, their multicoloured glow catching the attention of a sentinel like a smoke did a dragon.
She turned to face the stubborn raptor, and cut the air in front of her with her arm in one harsh motion. Her face had no smiles or giggles as she cast the silencing spell upon her clan leader, blue eyes cold towards his slow, but certain, shock.
"I don't care. I'm not some money-hungry, dirt-grovelling treasure hunter like yourself." Her footsteps approached him with a sharp menace, arms outstretched. "I will go. You will not stop me.".
The corners of her lips turned up as the sentinel arrived, its massive rock body casting a shadow over the Wildclaw. He snapped around and crouched, prepared to use his sleight to slip past it, but fell limp as the Pearlcatcher delivered a swift blow to his crown.
"Down the king goes."
solitude
Members of the clan often forget that he even exists. He speaks no words, no sounds. He doesn't hide, yet nobody ever look his way as he floats on past, charcoal tail feathers dusting the ground. The white scales upon his body seamlessly blend into the quiet snow, like a snake winding through the desert sand. Not even his mate speaks of him to others, her sentences carefully crafted to avoid his name.
Not a ghost, nor an exile: he merely is there in the background, his lone spirit content with being unknown.
solitude
Members of the clan often forget that he even exists. He speaks no words, no sounds. He doesn't hide, yet nobody ever look his way as he floats on past, charcoal tail feathers dusting the ground. The white scales upon his body seamlessly blend into the quiet snow, like a snake winding through the desert sand. Not even his mate speaks of him to others, her sentences carefully crafted to avoid his name.
Not a ghost, nor an exile: he merely is there in the background, his lone spirit content with being unknown.
