153: Grass Butterfly Bells
Sentence: Breed a Dragon
Sentence: Breed a Dragon
Malcolm felt exhaustion wash over him as Fenrir led him and Maria back to The Refuge. Adrenaline was running out of his veins. Maria was leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked, clearly exhausted as well.
For once in his life, he didn't know if he'd have the energy to party.
"Congratulations, by the way," Fenrir nodded at the eggs Malcolm and Maria were carrying. "Or, at least, I assume a congratulations is in order. They do look... woven."
"Feywild magic," Malcolm shrugged, exchanging a look with Maria. Her past was her story to tell.
She smiled gratefully at him.
Malcolm found himself getting lost in her eyes, until he was interrupted by a squirming egg.
"Already?" Malcolm's eyes widened. "They're only 24 hours old!"
Despite all logical timeframes, the eggs were hatching. The fabric holding in the hatchlings was stretching to accommodate the squirming lifeforms inside. Soon, tiny claws were breaking through, tearing up the tiny weaving, and exposing the fluffy beings inside.
"They don't have seams, they aren't patchwork," Maria started crying tears of joy. "They're real dragons, they aren't dolls!"
"You are a real dragon," Malcolm reminded her. "Besides, I'm pretty sure they hold some of your traits." The nocturne pointed out some of the seams on the hatchling he was holding, and brushed his hand over his mane. It felt like a the kind of furry covering a plush toy may have. "And that's not a bad thing. They are beautiful."
Maria started to cry harder. "They're beautiful! I never thought- I mean, I didn't know if the magic I had was real enough-"
She hugged Malcolm, and the two of them held they sons between them. "Yours looks like a little lion," She laughed between tears. "We should name him Leo."
"I like it," Malcolm said, pressing his forehead to hers. "And how about Griffin for yours?"
"Perfect," Maria smiled, leaning down to nuzzle their sons.
"They're beautiful, may I offer another congratulations?" Fenrir grinned.
"you may," Malcolm grinned. "Let's get back, I'm ready to party now."
The pirates had not yet arrived, and it felt strange to have a party without their them or Malcolm, but it was a party nonetheless.
The entire clearing was covered in flowers. Fireflies darted around as the sun dipped below the horizon and light fell. Some of the flowers glowed as well, making a beautiful display whether night or day.
It was the first Greenskeeper Gathering since the founding of The Refuge, and Sage was pulling out all the stops. Food had been prepared, music was playing, games had been set up (most of them played by now). Most of the events had passed, but no one was going to bed yet. Dinner had just finished, drinks had been drunk, and everyone was dancing and celebrating. Laughter filled the clearing - the first celebration where they could celebrate as a clan without worry of eradication.
And Sage could finally let go of her need to protect, and truly enjoy the moment.
"It's good to see you truly let go," Burns grinned as he pulled her onto the dance floor. "You've put a lot of work into protecting this clan, it's time for you to let it thrive and enjoy yourself."
"I'll always have a duty to protect the clan," Sage said. "But yes, we are safe. I can trust them to look after themselves, for the most part. I don't need to be alert at any moment."
"Hey, guess what, the party has just arrived! And there's a lot to celebrate!" Malcolm's voice filled the clearing.
Burns and Sage broke apart from the dance to see Malcolm, Maria and Fenrir arrive. They were carrying two hatchlings with them. All three of them looked over the moon. Malcolm was flying around the clearing, hatchlings on his back, while Maria giggled and flew beside him, for once no longer in the sidelines. Fenrir made his way over to Sage, grinning.
"No sign of Mason or David yet, but they've always been adventurous, I'm sure they'll turn up tomorrow with all sort of stories," Fenrir said. "Have the pirates made an appearance?"
"Not yet," Sage sighed, her carefree spirit fading into concern once more. "I wonder what's keeping them."
"I don't know what happened! We were just dancing, waiting for Oregano to get back with the fireworks! And he just dropped!" Finnath sobbed into Tyrian's chest. Large, wet tears were falling from the bogsneak's eyes as well.
The bogsneak said nothing. There was nothing to be said.
"Hey guys, I got-" Oregano burst in. His face immediately fell, catching sight of the scene before him. "Right, I guess, party cancelled."
"No, go," Finnath shook her head. "The Refuge has had enough celebrations with doom hanging over their heads. We'll bring the news to them in the morning, say it happened overnight."
"Are you sure?" Tyrian looked surprise. "If you want the support of our clan, they are they for it. Especially if-" She nodded towards three eggs sitting in a nest to the side.
"They will be there tomorrow," Finnath sighed. "Besides, I think it's what Claude would want."
@Drachenschwinge @Dynami @Leopardmask @Sabariel @BarbaraFett @Disillusionist @Dakala @Wufflesnuff @Tirtouga678 @chippertowns @Aetherstorm @MisterMylez @cartographic @Calyrex @Gender @feleathion @queerkestrel @catmeow1 @Khyriana @CleverTrick @brandonjui @Crescentstar711 @sedge122 @Brasil @Lixue @DiamondDogg @GraceShelby1031 @VeniVidiVici @Jaspernoir @Glitchtrap @GingaSnap @aquaberyl @Pocketdog @lunarkismet
I'm sad to have to end the celebration on such a sad note, but such is the way of pinkerlockes.
I've made a google form to vote on who the next captain should be, if you want to vote! I'll tally up the votes in a day or two.
