I apologize for my writing. It’s not trash but it sure ain’t worth much. Anyhow, I have no clue what to do with this story so I will just leave this here and see what happens =P
“Freya? what are you doing down here?” Her head moved, gaze focusing on the dragon in front of her holding an unlit candle.
“Cronus?” It was a question. a simple thought directed at the frosty Tundra watching her wearily.
“Yes… Freya… go to your room.” Cronus let out a long exasperated sigh. “It’s not safe down here with the sculptures.” Freya nodded her head slowly, as if she was engaged in deep thought.
“Cronus… Cronus?” her eyes flickered to life, widening in shock and horror. “You can’t let them escape! the Sculptures! he, he-“
“Freya, just come with me.” his paws where brought onto the frantic guardian’s shoulders to hold her down.
“No… nonono-“
“Freya!”
She looked down to him directly face to face, startled with his shout. it was a mixed fear and distaste with her second in command, but her battle of will was lost when she lowered her wings to the gold banded floor. Cronus showed no triumph in her display, he ignored it like something he refused to acknowledge.
“Go back to your room. I will take care of this mess.” he ordered.
Her gaze shifted like magic, every emotion draining from her face into a cold impassive stare. Cronus watched in fascination while her body shifted into a powerful stance, claws barely clicking the ornate stone floor. He knew exactly where she was going. She was following his command.
“Celestine, unshift.” Cronus placed the candle on the floor, watching it morph into a masked Tundra slightly smaller than him. “Celestine, lock 101 back up. and keep that Pearlcatcher from speaking to Freya.” Celestine didn’t show any recognition of the command, she simply turned and walked into the dark halls just like her majesty.
The candle’s paws wandered down through the web-like tunnels of the Place, loosing herself to the stone rooms. She followed 101 without relent until she could hear it’s heavy breath.
Her gaze locked with the frozen body of a Pearlcatcher, Ice spun into it’s scales like fungus growing and taking over.
“Majesty wishes you return to your room to be re-built.” the Pearlcatcher’s breathing turned ragged at the monotone voice.
Claws scrabbled on the marble, leaving jagged indents where the struggling dragon clung. Celestine pined her down, impassive to the thrashing wings and tail.
“Shift.” the body under her screeched and turned into a sloppy mess of snow, bubbling until it fused back into a scorpion.
Her claws delicately picked up the frozen bug and placed it in her pouch, trailing back down the way she came.
Frigid watched the clan move in silence from his window, contemplating their actions. His clan was different, an oddity compared to most. Dragons where always busy and rushing about, but never accomplishing anything. From day one, not one advancement had been made though the actions of others, and everything he had contributed had disappeared. He would talk to mother, if he ever saw her. His clanmates glorified her, told of how steadfast and strong the white guardian was, but Frigid always asked himself if she really existed.
Cronus had the answer. The loyal Tundra spoke with her regularly, gave the clan laws from her. Anyone who asked about her was politely shrugged off.
“Still watching the commoners?” Tundra laughed and rolled out of his bed, flapping his wings to ‘fluff’ them. Frigid’s brother had fully embraced their strange life. They where at least a few months old when the clan announced that their parents got sent to the Icewarden, making Tundra and Frigid the next of kin to Freya.
“Sure. Ever wonder what they do all day.” Their father had taught them how to convey emotions and feelings, but it didn’t mean Frigid had to use them. Again, Tundra had fully embraced it.
“Nope! I’m gonna go find something to eat in this food desert. I might let you join me?” Tundra’s eyes twinkled with mirth, his favorite emotion. Frigid gave him a void blank stare, twitching his ear flaps in vague amusement.
“It won’t be much of a search… after all you are named after a ball of fuzz with a nose.” to many, that would have come off as an insult, but as a fae his tease had been a satisfactory response to his brother’s banter. Many of the non-fae thought that the princes hated each other, not reading the fae body language. They just saw a twitching mess of fins.
“Well, have fun watching that mess of drakes.” Tundra was gone before Frigid could ask him to stay. His fins drooped a bit, tail flicking with worry. The Palace gave Frigid shivers, an uneasy cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. His brother was fine shifting into a small black-wing croaker and darting in and out of every place he went, but every time Frigid shifted into his humming bird form he was quickly encased in ice. It hurt.
Again, only Tundra could tell how much pain he was in. Everyone else saw a passive fae who didn’t care.
But today was different for him and everyone else. Frigid tried to explain what he felt to Tundra, but Tundra would simply revert back to his fae face in confusion. He could feel today creeping up on him, like a shadow stretching its soft fingers into his mind. As far as he could tell, only he could feel it and it drove him insane.
“What is wrong with this settlement?” his searching white eyes focused on the Ice sculpture in the center of the courtyard holding it’s palms out in acceptance, but it’s face was what disturbed him. He couldn’t quite place it in his memory of emotions.
Refraction drilled him on the regular emotions every day, trying to show him how to replicate them. So why couldn’t he remember what that emotion was called?
He gently unfolded his wings and pulled himself away from the glass window to the fancy doorway Tundra had disappeared into not long ago. If only he could shake the feeling of loss and ice away in his stomach. It was awful… it felt like… like guilt.
Leaving his room was the hardest part of the day, because as soon as he was out, he was just a small dragon and the ’odd’ prince. Not many even knew his role in the clan.
Frigid emerged from the outrageously obvious door way, flicking his tail in distaste. The entire wall was covered in tapestry and mosaic, gold and silver swirling around the indented doorway in the middle of the wall. White and blue plants spilled out of the cracks making a ridiculous show of ‘THIS IS THE PRINCE’S ROOM. AREN’T THEY IMPORTANT?”
Sure… sure they where.
“Frigid. Where is your brother?” his ears lifted at the sound of a whispery voice.
“Matrix. Remind me why you are in the castle.” Again, his dead voice lost most of it’s meaning if the dragon being spoken to was not a fae. Unsurprisingly, the blue pearlcatcher missed all hostility being thrown at him through subtle gestures.
“Looking for your brother… not obvious enough for you?” Frigid studied him carefully. What emotion was that? Was it a jeer or was it a polite ask?
Frigid let it slide, curling his fins inwards at the edges to show him he was pardoning whatever had been said. Who cared if it was a jeer or polite, the light dragon wouldn’t be able to tell his response.
He watched the only non-Ice dragon in the clan loose interest in him and crawl down the hallways, throwing his tail in large arks to purposely take up space. Never mind that… Frigid wasn’t even going that way.
He turned and darted through the halls, favoring the top right corner as usual. Being as small as most dragon’s paws was a bit of a setback, but it had a few perks as well. The biggest perk was flying over the heads of dragons and not having a single one notice, which would have been helpful if he ran into a lot of dragons. Sadly, the clan was mostly empty.
So far he had seen Matrix and Celestine, the two Palace creeps according to his mind. Celestine hadn’t spoken a word to him since day one while Matrix was always guarded and never very explanatory.
Sometimes Frigid wandered if Celestine could speak. and if she blinked under her disturbing wood mask, he could never tell. Did she know he was in front of her? more than likely not.
The Palace dinning hall was mostly empty as usual, but this time he easily spotted a white fae in a feathered cape sitting in a fruit basket chowing on a strange blue plant.
“Why are you eating that?” his ears flicked straight out, mocking and disgusted.
“I am a glorified royal, insects are the food of commoners. Think! fruits are hard to get in the frozen wasteland.” He tossed a round purple fruit into his mouth, taking way too big a bite.
“That’s why you should leave it for the creatures that need fruit.”
“Oho cohmmon! Where rohal!” he spoke through his full mouth, taking time to pronounce each word.
“I don’t understand you.” despite this, his ears flicked around in what would be compared to a laugh. “how does it taste?” the one thing about regular dragons he never understood was that they had to stop ‘laughing’ to speak. fae language was so much easier with the many ways to show feelings, and easy to communicate things accompanied by other emotions.
“It is wonderful.” He smiled, but folded his fins in distaste. before long, Tundra was laughing his heart out while Frigid made many gestures that any passing dragon would consider a seizure.
“Why do you laugh and smile like other dragons.” his tail curled in question, stilling his body. Tundra gave him a grin as if proving a point.
“Refraction says it helps with debate and negotiation when I rule a kingdom, but the real reason? I like it. It feels nice to laugh and be understood by everyone. do you ever get tired of dragons ignoring you because they just see a blank face?” Tundra’s smile faded a bit into sincerity, then into another emotion that Frigid didn’t know the name of.
“Sometimes. but I am a fae… I have no need.” he used a gesture called a ‘shrug’, letting his tail fall back into a relaxed stance. Tundra returned the shrug and spread his wings before flapping them and shifting mid-air into a black-wing croaker, darting down the hall leading to their study chambers.
“Ok. just leave me here… I’m fine.” annoyance radiated off him, but he refused to move. Why did Tundra smile and laugh? he attempted to pull his mouth upward, but kept showing his fangs in a menacing stance. never mind that… not like he needed it.
He launched himself into the air to follow his sibling, smoky gray wings catching the wind easily and skillfully moving him through the air.
Of course, Tundra was in the schoolroom. Frigid beat his wings several times, leaving them at full wingspan after he landed just to be rude.
“Ah. you showed up today.” Refraction’s long nose bobbed at him, light reflecting like a shattered mirror.
“Just curious.” flicking his tail, he crouched low on the table to find a comfortable position he could rest in.
“hmm. Tundra was learning the signals of fear and aggression in the Bogsneak.” Refraction turned and used his long snout to point to a clay model of a dragon with it’s teeth showing.
“Tell me the signal and emotion this model shows?” Frigid thought for a few seconds. The Bogsneak’s frills where ducked back, laying on the clay neck while the fangs shown at him.
Frigid puffed his wings, annoyed. Refraction was showing them a Bogsneak that was mocking him? The expression may be fear or aggression to the other dragons, but Refraction knew fae language… and the statue’s fins were leaning his direction.
This was insulting.
“It’s mocking me.” his monotones voice was the only sound. An expressionless face turned to the teacher, blinking slowly.
“No that is incorrect… Tundra, will you correct your brother?”
“That is the Bogsneak expression accepting a challenge. It’s the same for Coatls.”
“Very good.” Refraction glanced to Frigid, giving a disappointed glare. Frigid hummed in response.
He wasn’t staying for lesson two if Refraction was just going to show models of dragons mocking him crudely.
“This was interesting. I think I am done though.” Tundra quietly questioned him using wing motions, but dropped them when a response was never made.
The flight through the palace was quite, empty, and cold… like always. At least the library was warmer.
The library was around three imperial lengths, giving lots of room to Winter peak’s majesty, Freya. Many spoke of her massive stance, but again, it was just the testimony and rumors of other dragons. The only deduction he had drawn in the many years spent living in her home was the Majesty’s obsession with a dark-wood and gold-brown marble. The Palace breathed in the old-world style.
But the abandoned library had been claimed by none other than himself. It belonged to the fae prince as far as he was concerned, not her majesty.
The books themselves had been hard to read because the candles went cold centuries ago, and the lighting that remained originated from a massive window highlighting the dust drifting through the air. It was a dense forest of books, grey light filtering through the many shelves. Of course, smaller windows lined the halls making ovals of illumination on the floor where one could drag a book and read, but they had to be moved through the day until their book was being held against the wall and then said dragon could no longer reach the light.
The center of the library was a place he referred to as the forest’s ‘tangled wood.’ If one happened to wander in, they couldn’t see their own claws. blindly dragging books out and ‘rescuing’ them had become a hobby.
Today, however, Frigid felt like curling up and reading one of the many tomes he had collected.
Frigid flapped his tiny wings, reaching out to grasp a long wooden pattern carved from the bottom of the shelves reaching to the very top. The pattern had a few dusty nicks in it, perfectly sized to a young fae’s digitals. He was now very careful with the placement of his sharp claws, falling into a quick pace he had copied for years. crawling between several books, squeezing through nooks, and gliding across gaps, he looked for the big red Python as a landmark book before changing his direction to go upward.
Nothing had changed in his favored reading space. The Tome was still open, grey rabbit-fur skin in front. The shelf was bathed in light from a hazy round window that would be impossible to look through with the ice coating the glass. He shifted his fins in satisfaction.
Frigid’s claws brushed through the soft fur, curling up into a comfortable position. Taking a page of the large book propped up against the wood, he began where he left off.
The story followed a star, fallen to the earth and living among the dragons, trying to get back to the sky he came from. The dragon was impossible to imagine, described as a flaming light, wings of constellations. The only fire he could think of was the grand fireplace in the corridor.
But he tried his best to picture it. Somehow the image of a white light came to mind, almost like the bright sun reflecting the ground after a fresh snowfall.
This was his kingdom of books, not Freya’s. Freya was dead for all he cared, at least he saw Refraction. Even Cronus acted reclusive.
A sudden noise snapped his attention back, fins flaring in startled fear.
Someone else? in the library? he had never seen another dragon in the library before. A sinking feeling of unease began to gnaw at him, reflecting in the slight twitch of his tail.
A few moments passed before he slowly stood on all fours, head poking out from the shelf to examine the halls below him. nothing was out of place, but that feeling of wrong refused to leave. It felt like he wasn’t alone, and that feeling demanded to be satisfied.
Frigid took a deep breath and began his descent, wings spread to glide down onto the floor.
Why was he doing this? This was a waste of time… so what if another dragon decided to pick up some paper and educate themselves. but what if it was the Queen?
The uneasy feeling didn’t leave. Still, curiosity drove his claws further from his nook, barely aware of the darkening library as he ventured deeper.
Frigid’s foot received a sharp stab of pain, a quick, tender stab that erased any feeling of unease replacing it with frustration and a twitching mess of fins. Stupid…. stupid what?
He growled, claw swiping the dark floor for the offending object. his claws wrapped around it. expecting it to be sharp, the points didn’t surprise him, but the shape was something inscrutable.
huh. maybe a piece of wood had fallen from the shelves? No… the object was cold. cold and obviously meant to be something. He felt it some more, theorizing that it was ice, but it didn’t melt in his warm claw.
Frigid stuffed the object in his green coat, deciding to keep on his path.
“Young prince.” Frigid jolted with fear, leaping around to face a wooden mask.
Two impassive expressions looked each other in the eye. Only one was impassive.
So the quiet dragon could speak. She could speak like a fae, but her body was silent too. Frigid was unnerved by the slightly glowing eyes that displayed how every other dragon saw him. They couldn’t read his language. they saw this face.
“What?” Frigid’s flat tone responded. Celestine didn’t speak, just gestured him to follow with her tail. he did. he followed her all the way out of the library and accepted the silence from her… the unnerving emotional silence.
She stopped at his room, watching the entrance. He knew what she wanted. He obeyed and slipped into the door to escape her. It helped that the uneasy feeling vanished as soon as her eyes where no longer on him.
Shoving his claw into his pocket he retrieved the cold object, excited to see what he had salvaged.
It was a tiny ice sculpture… a scorpion
so yeah, If you have tips for writing or ideas I would love to hear them!
Freya was a marble statue… silky white smooth skin only broken by unnatural scars and a thin layer of frost. She was rooted to the ground, face impassive as a god, and eyes hollow like the trees of the tangled wood.
Empty halls held the Place together, twisting and dark. they where just like their majesty… marble and cold.“Freya? what are you doing down here?” Her head moved, gaze focusing on the dragon in front of her holding an unlit candle.
“Cronus?” It was a question. a simple thought directed at the frosty Tundra watching her wearily.
“Yes… Freya… go to your room.” Cronus let out a long exasperated sigh. “It’s not safe down here with the sculptures.” Freya nodded her head slowly, as if she was engaged in deep thought.
“Cronus… Cronus?” her eyes flickered to life, widening in shock and horror. “You can’t let them escape! the Sculptures! he, he-“
“Freya, just come with me.” his paws where brought onto the frantic guardian’s shoulders to hold her down.
“No… nonono-“
“Freya!”
She looked down to him directly face to face, startled with his shout. it was a mixed fear and distaste with her second in command, but her battle of will was lost when she lowered her wings to the gold banded floor. Cronus showed no triumph in her display, he ignored it like something he refused to acknowledge.
“Go back to your room. I will take care of this mess.” he ordered.
Her gaze shifted like magic, every emotion draining from her face into a cold impassive stare. Cronus watched in fascination while her body shifted into a powerful stance, claws barely clicking the ornate stone floor. He knew exactly where she was going. She was following his command.
“Celestine, unshift.” Cronus placed the candle on the floor, watching it morph into a masked Tundra slightly smaller than him. “Celestine, lock 101 back up. and keep that Pearlcatcher from speaking to Freya.” Celestine didn’t show any recognition of the command, she simply turned and walked into the dark halls just like her majesty.
The candle’s paws wandered down through the web-like tunnels of the Place, loosing herself to the stone rooms. She followed 101 without relent until she could hear it’s heavy breath.
Her gaze locked with the frozen body of a Pearlcatcher, Ice spun into it’s scales like fungus growing and taking over.
“Majesty wishes you return to your room to be re-built.” the Pearlcatcher’s breathing turned ragged at the monotone voice.
Claws scrabbled on the marble, leaving jagged indents where the struggling dragon clung. Celestine pined her down, impassive to the thrashing wings and tail.
“Shift.” the body under her screeched and turned into a sloppy mess of snow, bubbling until it fused back into a scorpion.
Her claws delicately picked up the frozen bug and placed it in her pouch, trailing back down the way she came.
Part 1
Frigid watched the clan move in silence from his window, contemplating their actions. His clan was different, an oddity compared to most. Dragons where always busy and rushing about, but never accomplishing anything. From day one, not one advancement had been made though the actions of others, and everything he had contributed had disappeared. He would talk to mother, if he ever saw her. His clanmates glorified her, told of how steadfast and strong the white guardian was, but Frigid always asked himself if she really existed.
Cronus had the answer. The loyal Tundra spoke with her regularly, gave the clan laws from her. Anyone who asked about her was politely shrugged off.
“Still watching the commoners?” Tundra laughed and rolled out of his bed, flapping his wings to ‘fluff’ them. Frigid’s brother had fully embraced their strange life. They where at least a few months old when the clan announced that their parents got sent to the Icewarden, making Tundra and Frigid the next of kin to Freya.
“Sure. Ever wonder what they do all day.” Their father had taught them how to convey emotions and feelings, but it didn’t mean Frigid had to use them. Again, Tundra had fully embraced it.
“Nope! I’m gonna go find something to eat in this food desert. I might let you join me?” Tundra’s eyes twinkled with mirth, his favorite emotion. Frigid gave him a void blank stare, twitching his ear flaps in vague amusement.
“It won’t be much of a search… after all you are named after a ball of fuzz with a nose.” to many, that would have come off as an insult, but as a fae his tease had been a satisfactory response to his brother’s banter. Many of the non-fae thought that the princes hated each other, not reading the fae body language. They just saw a twitching mess of fins.
“Well, have fun watching that mess of drakes.” Tundra was gone before Frigid could ask him to stay. His fins drooped a bit, tail flicking with worry. The Palace gave Frigid shivers, an uneasy cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. His brother was fine shifting into a small black-wing croaker and darting in and out of every place he went, but every time Frigid shifted into his humming bird form he was quickly encased in ice. It hurt.
Again, only Tundra could tell how much pain he was in. Everyone else saw a passive fae who didn’t care.
But today was different for him and everyone else. Frigid tried to explain what he felt to Tundra, but Tundra would simply revert back to his fae face in confusion. He could feel today creeping up on him, like a shadow stretching its soft fingers into his mind. As far as he could tell, only he could feel it and it drove him insane.
“What is wrong with this settlement?” his searching white eyes focused on the Ice sculpture in the center of the courtyard holding it’s palms out in acceptance, but it’s face was what disturbed him. He couldn’t quite place it in his memory of emotions.
Refraction drilled him on the regular emotions every day, trying to show him how to replicate them. So why couldn’t he remember what that emotion was called?
He gently unfolded his wings and pulled himself away from the glass window to the fancy doorway Tundra had disappeared into not long ago. If only he could shake the feeling of loss and ice away in his stomach. It was awful… it felt like… like guilt.
Leaving his room was the hardest part of the day, because as soon as he was out, he was just a small dragon and the ’odd’ prince. Not many even knew his role in the clan.
Frigid emerged from the outrageously obvious door way, flicking his tail in distaste. The entire wall was covered in tapestry and mosaic, gold and silver swirling around the indented doorway in the middle of the wall. White and blue plants spilled out of the cracks making a ridiculous show of ‘THIS IS THE PRINCE’S ROOM. AREN’T THEY IMPORTANT?”
Sure… sure they where.
“Frigid. Where is your brother?” his ears lifted at the sound of a whispery voice.
“Matrix. Remind me why you are in the castle.” Again, his dead voice lost most of it’s meaning if the dragon being spoken to was not a fae. Unsurprisingly, the blue pearlcatcher missed all hostility being thrown at him through subtle gestures.
“Looking for your brother… not obvious enough for you?” Frigid studied him carefully. What emotion was that? Was it a jeer or was it a polite ask?
Frigid let it slide, curling his fins inwards at the edges to show him he was pardoning whatever had been said. Who cared if it was a jeer or polite, the light dragon wouldn’t be able to tell his response.
He watched the only non-Ice dragon in the clan loose interest in him and crawl down the hallways, throwing his tail in large arks to purposely take up space. Never mind that… Frigid wasn’t even going that way.
He turned and darted through the halls, favoring the top right corner as usual. Being as small as most dragon’s paws was a bit of a setback, but it had a few perks as well. The biggest perk was flying over the heads of dragons and not having a single one notice, which would have been helpful if he ran into a lot of dragons. Sadly, the clan was mostly empty.
So far he had seen Matrix and Celestine, the two Palace creeps according to his mind. Celestine hadn’t spoken a word to him since day one while Matrix was always guarded and never very explanatory.
Sometimes Frigid wandered if Celestine could speak. and if she blinked under her disturbing wood mask, he could never tell. Did she know he was in front of her? more than likely not.
The Palace dinning hall was mostly empty as usual, but this time he easily spotted a white fae in a feathered cape sitting in a fruit basket chowing on a strange blue plant.
“Why are you eating that?” his ears flicked straight out, mocking and disgusted.
“I am a glorified royal, insects are the food of commoners. Think! fruits are hard to get in the frozen wasteland.” He tossed a round purple fruit into his mouth, taking way too big a bite.
“That’s why you should leave it for the creatures that need fruit.”
“Oho cohmmon! Where rohal!” he spoke through his full mouth, taking time to pronounce each word.
“I don’t understand you.” despite this, his ears flicked around in what would be compared to a laugh. “how does it taste?” the one thing about regular dragons he never understood was that they had to stop ‘laughing’ to speak. fae language was so much easier with the many ways to show feelings, and easy to communicate things accompanied by other emotions.
“It is wonderful.” He smiled, but folded his fins in distaste. before long, Tundra was laughing his heart out while Frigid made many gestures that any passing dragon would consider a seizure.
“Why do you laugh and smile like other dragons.” his tail curled in question, stilling his body. Tundra gave him a grin as if proving a point.
“Refraction says it helps with debate and negotiation when I rule a kingdom, but the real reason? I like it. It feels nice to laugh and be understood by everyone. do you ever get tired of dragons ignoring you because they just see a blank face?” Tundra’s smile faded a bit into sincerity, then into another emotion that Frigid didn’t know the name of.
“Sometimes. but I am a fae… I have no need.” he used a gesture called a ‘shrug’, letting his tail fall back into a relaxed stance. Tundra returned the shrug and spread his wings before flapping them and shifting mid-air into a black-wing croaker, darting down the hall leading to their study chambers.
“Ok. just leave me here… I’m fine.” annoyance radiated off him, but he refused to move. Why did Tundra smile and laugh? he attempted to pull his mouth upward, but kept showing his fangs in a menacing stance. never mind that… not like he needed it.
He launched himself into the air to follow his sibling, smoky gray wings catching the wind easily and skillfully moving him through the air.
Of course, Tundra was in the schoolroom. Frigid beat his wings several times, leaving them at full wingspan after he landed just to be rude.
“Ah. you showed up today.” Refraction’s long nose bobbed at him, light reflecting like a shattered mirror.
“Just curious.” flicking his tail, he crouched low on the table to find a comfortable position he could rest in.
“hmm. Tundra was learning the signals of fear and aggression in the Bogsneak.” Refraction turned and used his long snout to point to a clay model of a dragon with it’s teeth showing.
“Tell me the signal and emotion this model shows?” Frigid thought for a few seconds. The Bogsneak’s frills where ducked back, laying on the clay neck while the fangs shown at him.
Frigid puffed his wings, annoyed. Refraction was showing them a Bogsneak that was mocking him? The expression may be fear or aggression to the other dragons, but Refraction knew fae language… and the statue’s fins were leaning his direction.
This was insulting.
“It’s mocking me.” his monotones voice was the only sound. An expressionless face turned to the teacher, blinking slowly.
“No that is incorrect… Tundra, will you correct your brother?”
“That is the Bogsneak expression accepting a challenge. It’s the same for Coatls.”
“Very good.” Refraction glanced to Frigid, giving a disappointed glare. Frigid hummed in response.
He wasn’t staying for lesson two if Refraction was just going to show models of dragons mocking him crudely.
“This was interesting. I think I am done though.” Tundra quietly questioned him using wing motions, but dropped them when a response was never made.
The flight through the palace was quite, empty, and cold… like always. At least the library was warmer.
The library was around three imperial lengths, giving lots of room to Winter peak’s majesty, Freya. Many spoke of her massive stance, but again, it was just the testimony and rumors of other dragons. The only deduction he had drawn in the many years spent living in her home was the Majesty’s obsession with a dark-wood and gold-brown marble. The Palace breathed in the old-world style.
But the abandoned library had been claimed by none other than himself. It belonged to the fae prince as far as he was concerned, not her majesty.
The books themselves had been hard to read because the candles went cold centuries ago, and the lighting that remained originated from a massive window highlighting the dust drifting through the air. It was a dense forest of books, grey light filtering through the many shelves. Of course, smaller windows lined the halls making ovals of illumination on the floor where one could drag a book and read, but they had to be moved through the day until their book was being held against the wall and then said dragon could no longer reach the light.
The center of the library was a place he referred to as the forest’s ‘tangled wood.’ If one happened to wander in, they couldn’t see their own claws. blindly dragging books out and ‘rescuing’ them had become a hobby.
Today, however, Frigid felt like curling up and reading one of the many tomes he had collected.
Frigid flapped his tiny wings, reaching out to grasp a long wooden pattern carved from the bottom of the shelves reaching to the very top. The pattern had a few dusty nicks in it, perfectly sized to a young fae’s digitals. He was now very careful with the placement of his sharp claws, falling into a quick pace he had copied for years. crawling between several books, squeezing through nooks, and gliding across gaps, he looked for the big red Python as a landmark book before changing his direction to go upward.
Nothing had changed in his favored reading space. The Tome was still open, grey rabbit-fur skin in front. The shelf was bathed in light from a hazy round window that would be impossible to look through with the ice coating the glass. He shifted his fins in satisfaction.
Frigid’s claws brushed through the soft fur, curling up into a comfortable position. Taking a page of the large book propped up against the wood, he began where he left off.
The story followed a star, fallen to the earth and living among the dragons, trying to get back to the sky he came from. The dragon was impossible to imagine, described as a flaming light, wings of constellations. The only fire he could think of was the grand fireplace in the corridor.
But he tried his best to picture it. Somehow the image of a white light came to mind, almost like the bright sun reflecting the ground after a fresh snowfall.
This was his kingdom of books, not Freya’s. Freya was dead for all he cared, at least he saw Refraction. Even Cronus acted reclusive.
A sudden noise snapped his attention back, fins flaring in startled fear.
Someone else? in the library? he had never seen another dragon in the library before. A sinking feeling of unease began to gnaw at him, reflecting in the slight twitch of his tail.
A few moments passed before he slowly stood on all fours, head poking out from the shelf to examine the halls below him. nothing was out of place, but that feeling of wrong refused to leave. It felt like he wasn’t alone, and that feeling demanded to be satisfied.
Frigid took a deep breath and began his descent, wings spread to glide down onto the floor.
Why was he doing this? This was a waste of time… so what if another dragon decided to pick up some paper and educate themselves. but what if it was the Queen?
The uneasy feeling didn’t leave. Still, curiosity drove his claws further from his nook, barely aware of the darkening library as he ventured deeper.
Frigid’s foot received a sharp stab of pain, a quick, tender stab that erased any feeling of unease replacing it with frustration and a twitching mess of fins. Stupid…. stupid what?
He growled, claw swiping the dark floor for the offending object. his claws wrapped around it. expecting it to be sharp, the points didn’t surprise him, but the shape was something inscrutable.
huh. maybe a piece of wood had fallen from the shelves? No… the object was cold. cold and obviously meant to be something. He felt it some more, theorizing that it was ice, but it didn’t melt in his warm claw.
Frigid stuffed the object in his green coat, deciding to keep on his path.
“Young prince.” Frigid jolted with fear, leaping around to face a wooden mask.
Two impassive expressions looked each other in the eye. Only one was impassive.
So the quiet dragon could speak. She could speak like a fae, but her body was silent too. Frigid was unnerved by the slightly glowing eyes that displayed how every other dragon saw him. They couldn’t read his language. they saw this face.
“What?” Frigid’s flat tone responded. Celestine didn’t speak, just gestured him to follow with her tail. he did. he followed her all the way out of the library and accepted the silence from her… the unnerving emotional silence.
She stopped at his room, watching the entrance. He knew what she wanted. He obeyed and slipped into the door to escape her. It helped that the uneasy feeling vanished as soon as her eyes where no longer on him.
Shoving his claw into his pocket he retrieved the cold object, excited to see what he had salvaged.
It was a tiny ice sculpture… a scorpion
so yeah, If you have tips for writing or ideas I would love to hear them!
