“You could have been a skydancer.”
They are sitting together amid the reeds in the warmth of a kind sun. After the long week of hunting beyond the lair’s boundaries, they have earned their rest. One of them is an elegance, all long iridescent white limbs and shining feathers; the other is small and modest and dark. It is this one who answers.
This gives the larger dragon pause. She says, after a moment, “You have earned it many times over. Any one of us would have been glad to give you the scroll. I would have been proud to recite the magic, even. If you had chosen me to do so.”
“I would have been honored,” the smaller dragon says.
“Except I am not a skydancer, Reina.”
Reina looks down at her lairmate, who is her oldest clan-sib, save Argos. Argos came to be her mate and has since become, far more importantly, her wing-brother in battle. Aspasia glided in on his slipstream, and now none of them can imagine the fight alone.
Like many of the others in the lair, Argos has allowed himself to be changed, has subjected himself to the magic that rewrites blood and bone. But little Aspasia, alone among them, has rejected time and again the magic that might have made her a more beautiful dragon, a larger one, a dragon more valuable in the eyes of others.
“No,” Reina says at last. “You are not a skydancer. And we like you just as you are.” She leans over and slides her longer nose along Aspasia’s face. The other dragon smiles and rests her scarred cheek against the smooth.
Part of the fun of playing mini-games is that it gives my story-brain fluff fodder. A few of you expressed interest in my dragon fluff fodder, so while there’s interest, here’s some micro-fiction! If people seem to enjoy it, I’ll throw some more up here. :)