everyone write more mech horror right now, I want to hear about how your pilot is surgically fused to the inside of the mech, with tubes moving blood from its body to the strange biomechanical heart of the machine as it twitches in pain - we need more fun stuff like that
some bands require nuance however. while it would be wonderful to have a lizard wizard in my house my doors are never open to royalty so i do not want to see king gizzard. similarly i would love to have a few gecs in my home maybe a dozen. but 100 is just too many
they might be giants? well. i have to say 'no' just in case they are. bc there wouldn't be enough room. maybe this wouldn't have been a problem if they were more clear about their giant status :|
The end of the semester is celebrated, and Selin gets some answers to her questions. 6.7k words.
(This is a continuation of Upon Further Examination, which you should read before this!)
Carlton Abernanth is a man of middling stature, skillful oration, and absolutely horrendous taste in furniture, but since he is Penrose Academyâs current headmaster and therefore my direct superior, I am required to regularly subject myself to what may very well be the most garishly upholstered sitting room in the entire continent. Dandelion-yellow leather is a crime to both the eyes and whatever poor creature it came from, and there have been many times over the seven years heâs held this position that I have come within a hairâs breadth of bringing one of my own chairs to these meetings, decorum be damned. Itâs almost enough to override the respect I have for the man and his runework, built up during the time that he was a fellow professor and now being the only thing saving six armchairs and two sofas from a sustained bout of concentrated dragonflame.
Goddess above. Yellow leather.
"So!" he says brightly, pouring and offering me a cup of tea from the ornate tea set that seems to live on the table here. "I take it you had an interesting round of final examinations?"
I take a sip, not bothering to test the temperature first. Itâs one of the blends that Ember enjoys serving me, not prepared up to her standard but still leagues better than the stuff he used to stock. Iâm sure the fact that he switched over shortly after I offhandedly complained about it to Ember is purely a coincidence. Iâve never asked her, and she would never say anything unless I did.
"'Interesting' hardly seems like the right term," I respond. "Some imaginative work, of course, like we get every semester, but the median grade was only in the low nineties. Inscription precision was the most common deduction, so Iâll look to adjusting the curriculum to spend more time on it in the future."
"Itâs still nothing to scoff at," Carlton replies, and I almost want to scoff at that. "Neither is the fact that students are coming out of your class better-prepared than any other secondary program on the continent. Do you know how many attempts to poach you Iâve had to fend off?"
"Dozens of letters a day, Iâm sure," I wave him off. "And you know itâs not a competition to me. I donât care about the other schools; I care that Iâm bringing my students to their fullest potential. Something that reflects poorly on me if they donât reach that point."
"Fair enough," he concedes, before burning his tongue on his own tea and playing it off in hopes I wonât notice. "Clearly you had at least one student who did, though."
I hide a soft smile with a sigh. A full week has passed since Selinâs demonstration, and thinking about it still fills me with a swirl of varied emotions. Of course, Iâm not at all surprised that heâd bring it up.
"Selin Letteaâs ritual work was the best Iâve seen in two decades of teaching, and that includes the other faculty as well as almost all of my own work," I state, without exaggeration. "Not only that, but she demonstrated levels of professionalism, tenacity, and adaptation Iâve been forced to learn are too much to ask from seasoned court magicians, let alone students. I fully believe the grade is justified."
"And Iâm not saying I donât believe you!" he reassures me. "But a full twenty percent on top of a perfect score, for an end-of-semester project? I think I can count on two hands the number of perfect evaluations Iâve seen you give out, let alone greater than perfect. I know better than to suggest itâs solely because sheâs one of your mentees, but please, Iâd love to be enlightened."
I slump in that horrendous yellow chair, just barely, but Iâm sure Carlton picks up on it.
"There were⊠extenuating circumstances at play."
He raises an eyebrow but doesnât speak. I sigh again, genuinely this time.
"In my eyes, Selin earned perfect marks from the very beginning, flawlessly executing her ritual as designed and correcting the induced errors almost as soon as I made them. I wouldnât call the ritual itself groundbreaking by any means, but it shows a comprehensive understanding of the principles I taught as well as a knack for efficient and reproducible design, even without taking into account the constraints of the situation."
"Constraints?"
"Apparently," I start, then pause to take another sip of tea, "she has mana instability as well."
The second eyebrow joins the first, turning from questioning encouragement to surprise. As was the case with his predecessor, Iâve had to paint a slightly different picture of my identity with Headmaster Abernanth than I do with the rest of the faculty. Nothing explicit, of course, but over the centuries you pick up a thing or two about misdirection. In this case, the occasional offhand comment or reaction that implies I had a much more direct involvement with the Abrestan-Junal War some two decades ago now than the average noblewoman would have at the time. Pair that with the fact that Leora of Afton, frontline combatant for Abresta and one of the most notorious sorceresses in the continent, disappeared close to the end of the conflict after very publicly taking a curse to the chest, and you have a simple little deception that makes people think theyâre so clever for figuring me out and neatly cuts off any further curiosity right there.
The fact that Leora was really just a way for me to express my criticisms of the Junal ruling class in a somewhat constructive manner makes the whole thing a bit easier to sell.
"And no, I donât know the cause, though I sincerely doubt itâs the same reason as mine," I lie, preempting the natural follow-up question. "It could be entirely natural for her, for all I know. But because I didnât know about it, I failed to account for it, and due to no fault of her own, the ritual failed. She remade it perfectly, then tried again. And again. It was only on the twenty-third attempt that I identified what was happening and fixed the issue. In my eyes, the level of dedication and perseverance she expressed in spite of what was happening is nothing short of astounding. If that grade isnât deserved, then clearly I should be failing all my other students for their relative performance."
"No, no, Iâm not pushing back," Carlton assures me, then drinks, finally satisfied with the temperature. "Based on what youâve told me, she sounds like one of the most promising students of the year. Do you know if sheâs planning to specialize? Those results would certainly suggest a promising future in ritual work."
"Not yet, butâŠ" I hesitate. I know this is the right call, but that still doesnât prevent voicing it from making me feel oddly⊠vulnerable, in a way? "I was thinking of offering her an actual apprenticeship. Holistic."
"Really?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Which I canât blame him for; I havenât ever shown an inclination to take someone on in that capacity. "Full-time?"
"Goddess no. At least, not during the school year. If she didnât keep her studies well-rounded Iâd fail her myself. But I see potential in her, and I plan on making sure it becomes fully actualized."
Iâm almost mildly surprised to realize Iâm telling the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but even discounting Selinâs nature, thereâs a chance I might have decided to make this offer anyway. Isnât that a thought.
The conversation winds down with a much briefer discussion of the results some of my other students managed to achieve, and finally I am freed from that awful room with its awful furniture. With classes over and final examinations winding down, the academy halls carry a much more relaxed atmosphere than the weeks prior. Students making preparations to head home, celebrating (or lamenting) grades, and generally enjoying the figurative weight off their shoulders. My own schedule for the immediate future is much more self-directed, but it's not yet time for me to fully relax. Iâve got centuries to do that, and a hatchling to teach right now.
Selin is, as requested, waiting for me when I get back to my rooms. I havenât actually seen the girl since her final project a week ago, distance I imposed myself in an attempt to at least try to get her to focus on the rest of her finals rather than the newfound revelations of that day. A somewhat futile attempt, of course, even with threatening to wipe her memories of the entire examination if she were to not perform up to the standards I know sheâs capable of. Still, from what Iâve heard from the rest of the staff, sheâs performed admirably. All for the best, I suppose, since my experience in mental magic is barely more than theoretical and I would never actually think to take this away from her, no matter what her results were.
"I hope you two are ready to get out of here, because I am in desperate need of fresh air," I declare as soon as I walk in, breaking Selin and Ember from their conversation. "Ember, is everything packed?"
"Yes, my lady!" she chirps, holding up a picnic basket.
"Okay, that answers one question," Selin comments, "but also hi, hello, Iâm still not entirely sure what it is weâre doing today?"
"Picnic lunch," I say. "To celebrate the end of a very eventful semester, or, well, the very eventful end of a semester. Because I think we all need some time to unwind, and Iâd rather have the discussions weâre going to have away from others."
The promise of a discussion seems to placate her for now, her eyes sparkling like they did a week ago when I gave her that massive gemstone from my hoard. The felt bag that went with it now rests on her hip, tied to her belt, bulging with the rough-cut corundum inside. Itâs probably a bit awkward to carry around like that, but I could never fault her for doing so. I have a feeling itâs going to be a while before sheâs fully comfortable with letting her small hoard out of her sight. I know it took me a good amount of time, at least.
"Right, then," I continue. "Did you have breakfast?"
"Um, a bit, yeah?"
"Clear your lungs, take a deep breath, and hold it," I instruct, striding forward to place a hand on Emberâs shoulder and Selinâs sternum. "Ready? Three, two, one."
Despite her visible confusion, Selin does as I ask and inhales, just in time for me to pulse a bit of magic through her torso, paralyzing her diaphragm, intestinal, and abdominal muscles. Her eyes barely have time to widen before I force us all through space, bringing them both with me through a teleport not quite so long-distance as the trip to my cave. Itâs over in an instant, and I move both my hands to catch Selin under the arms, taking the weight off her buckling legs while her body tries to process what the hell just happened. She entirely fails to vomit, because I know what Iâm doing, thank you very much, and I restore control to her after only a few seconds. She immediately exhales and takes a big, shuddering gulp of air, then another, while I wait patiently for her to recover.
"W-what the hell?" she finally manages to say.
"Teleportation," I state. "Weâre about two daysâ trek east. I like to get out of the city for an afternoon sometimes, and this is a rather good spot to do it."
"Is it always this bad?" Selin asks, to which I shake my head.
"First timeâs the worst," I tell her. "It only gets better from here, once your body gets more familiar with the sensation. Itâll also be vastly smoother when youâre the one doing it yourself. Are you alright?"
"I will be," she says, taking deliberate, measured breaths. "Maybe a little warning next time, please?"
"Once youâve learned not to tense up."
Selin recovers remarkably quickly and I let go of her once she seems to be able to balance. Ember, having been fine after only a couple of seconds, gives her a once-over and a flask of water, which she downs rather quickly. Only then does Selin actually take a look around at our surroundings.
"Woah. You⊠were not kidding."
The meadow the three of us are standing in is rather idyllic, in my opinion. Itâs absolutely blanketed in wildflowers, which gives the incredibly fresh air a pleasant floral note. The temperature is perfect too, helped by the fact that weâre far into the middle of a mountain range here and the early spring heat is cut down by a bit. And, as best as Iâve been able to identify during my trips here, there isnât a trace of civilization around for miles. A wonderful location for a picnic.
Laying out a blanket and getting things unpacked is quick work with six hands helping, and once Iâm sitting down I close my eyes and finally, finally let myself relax a bit. A lot, actually. Even with all my experience, both with teaching and beyond it, thereâs no easy way to just magically block all the stress that naturally builds up over the course of a semester from getting to you. Iâve looked, but it doesnât exist. Not unless youâre willing to get pretty far deep into mind-altering substances, and thatâs a bit much for my tastes. No, even though I love teaching, thereâs a reason I look forward to breaks. This particular summer might be a good bit different from the others, but I have a feeling itâll be rejuvenating in its own way.
"Professor?"
I tilt my head up and open my eyes, looking at Selin. Sheâs looking back at me with a slightly hesitant expression, and uses one hand to gesture to her cheek.
"Youâve got aâŠ"
I lift up a hand to touch my own face, and⊠oh. Ha. Well, thereâs a reason I normally donât let myself feel this loose around others. Glancing over at Ember, I see sheâs barely managing to hold in a giggle, impertinent creature that she is.
"Nothing you havenât seen before," I say, leaning back again and gazing up at the sky. Giving my body a bit more mental slack, consciously this time, the smattering of scales that had slipped onto my face bloom into patches, not fully covering me but enough to ease some of the barely noticeable tension that lives in the back of my head whenever Iâm keeping to a human form. "A consequence of letting myself enjoy the environment, so to speak. Not usually a problem, but just something to keep in mind depending on the current company at the time."
"Ah," Selin responds succinctly. She doesnât say more, but I can feel the unspoken questions anyway. Well, no point in delaying.
"Alright," I say, pushing myself all the way back up to a sitting position and facing her, a slight smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Be honest. How much time did you spend reading about us while you should have been studying?"
"Thatâs⊠a subjective measure," she answers, affronted. I say nothing. "But⊠maybe six hours?"
I raise a ridged eyebrow. Selin squirms.
"Okay, more like⊠twelve-ish. But itâs fine, I had to take breaks from studying anyway, and Professor Aldebaran literally had us make sleep-substitution potions as the last assignment before finals."
"Which I tell her is a horrible idea every year, and yet here we are," I say, pinching the bridge of nose to disguise itching it. Letting my scales come in leisurely like this is nice, but they have a tendency to tingle. "But I digress. I wish you hadnât, but unfortunately I canât say I wouldnât have done the same, were I in your position. What have you gotten through so far? Iâm very familiar with the contents of the academyâs library."
"Um, most of Draconis Magnificens, the relevant portions of Thorneâs Feather, Scale, and Aether, Children of the Sky-Fire was well-written but more about weird dragon-worshipping cult stuff than usable information, and one of the librarians recommended Blackwoodâs Spark to Shadow for soul stuff. It felt like more of a think-piece than practical information, but apparently itâs hard to find anything on the topic that isnât written from a primarily religious perspective."
"Spark to Shadow isnât bad, but I doubt itâll have what youâre looking for," I hum. "Iâve got some relevant works in my library at home that you might enjoy. I have⊠somewhat of a personal interest in the matter."
This earns me a small laugh from both girls, which is nice.
"The Scale of Feather, Scale, and Aether isnât bad either," I press on. "Aris Thorne doesnât make many assumptions, which is nice, but he still takes a rather human-centric approach to his presentation. Draconis Magnificens is so inaccurate itâs basically fiction, Iâm sorry to say. Sky-Fire is a mostly accurate account of a period of my life I donât love dwelling on, so letâs just skip that one, shall we?"
Selinâs eyes open a bit wider at that little revelation, but thankfully she doesnât press.
"I found a bit more, research papers and whatnot, but there wasnât really anything I could confirm as credible," she says, shrugging. "So I eventually figured it would be best to just⊠ask you."
I nod slowly, accepting my second cup of tea for the day from Ember almost without thinking. Selin gets one too, and knowing Ember, the temperature will be right on the upper edge of what she can currently handle. Weâll have to take some time to get that up.
"Never a bad conclusion to come to," I say. "Do you have specific questions, or would you like a more general overview of things?"
"I do have specific questions," Selin starts, "but I think Iâd like to hear your overview. You probably have a better idea of whatâs immediately relevant than I do."
"In that case, then, weâll start with the soul," I state. "If youâll recall, at our last meeting, I mentioned a⊠mismatch, so to speak. Being born with a soul not befitting of the body."
Selin nods, so I continue.
"Itâs a technically accurate statement, and conveys the general idea well enough, but itâs not specific. Your soul is, fundamentally, what holds you. Your identity, your personality, your consciousness, everything that makes the girl sitting in front of me right now Selin Lettea and not some zombified husk of habits and automatic responses that merely playacts at being a person. Your soul, working in tandem with your brain, to give you life, shape your thoughts, and make you who you are. The soul serves other purposes as well, of course, the channeling and control of mana being one of the major ones, but thatâs not really what weâre focusing on here. The quality of the soul more relevant to us is what happens when youâ"
I point one blue-speckled finger at her.
"âstart to push up against the bounds of this."
I lean forward and tap her on the forehead. She blinks, then refocuses on me as I sit back.
"Iâm not sure I follow."
"Iâll try to illustrate. Imagine your soul as⊠as⊠Ember?"
"A plant, my lady."
"A plant, yes, thank you," I nod affirmatively. "A flower, ivy, whatever, it doesnât matter for the metaphor. You, Selin, that spark of life and identity and consciousness, are a plant contained within a decorative pot. As you start from a metaphorical seed at birth, you grow, putting down roots and sending up sprouts and all those good things plants do. Things are fine for a time as you mature and thrive, but thenâŠ"
I hold up the same hand I used to poke her in a closed fist, slowly spreading my fingers before abruptly stopping in place.
"You find that you have run up against the edges of the pot. Your roots have permeated every bit of soil, your leaves are eking out every bit of sunlight they can get from the shelf the pot is placed on, and every drop of water you get is quickly sucked up, leaving you dry and wanting more. And yet, there is still so much more left for you to grow. Are you following me so far?"
"I think so, yeah," she answers.
"Right. For most people, this is a non-issue. They have been planted correctly, with a pot adequately sized and shaped for their needs, to let their roots grow comfortably and soak up all the nutrients they need for a lifetime. But for others, like us, they are quite literally a different kind of plant. Some need a different climate, some need more nutrients, but in this case⊠to put it simply, youâve been planted in the wrong pot, and itâs choking you. Youâll live, yes, but you wonât thrive. Your leaves will wither, your roots will dry, and eventually you will find your soil and your pot have nothing left to give you, and your life comes to an end. Tragic, preventable, and most people who this happens to donât even realize that it is the case."
Selin slowly nods, and I can tell from the look on her face that she seems to be understanding. Itâs not a perfect metaphor, but I think it serves its purpose.
"There are ways to mitigate this, of course. We can refer to this as adding more soil to the pot, if youâd like, giving you a bit more room to expand. Frankly, just acknowledging the problem for what it is does wonders; thatâs a rather large added scoop right there. But, unfortunately, this only works to an extent. Eventually youâll run up against the rim of the pot and you canât add any more soil. I should say, when Iâm referring to a pot, Iâm not talking solely about your physical body. Itâs an extremely significant factor, yes, but things like your family and social environment, hobbies, personal fulfillment, the expectations placed upon you, and more all come together to form the bounds of expression and existence you fit within. Thereâs a bit of wiggle room there, but I hope it conveys the idea properly."
"It does, yes," Selin says, looking contemplative. "So, adding more soil only does so much. What do you do when youâve added all you can, and itâs still not enough?"
"The answer to that, my dear, is up to you," I inform her. "Tell me. Do you feel fulfilled?"
"What, in life?"
"In life, socially, academically, whatever. I suppose, if we want to get more specific, do you feel as though the paths you are currently on will lead to personal fulfillment in those aspects? Take your time."
"I⊠uh⊠wow, okay, wasnât really expecting this sort of question in this talk." She actually thinks for a minute, which I appreciate. "I⊠donât think I have any good reason to believe that they wonât?"
"Thatâs not what I asked," I counter. Selin looks at me, eyes roaming over my face, taking another moment before she responds.
"Passion and certainty. Confidence and contentment," she says. "Is that what youâre asking about?"
"It is if you think it is. I acknowledge that thatâs frustratingly vague, but personal determinism is sort of the name of the game here."
"Then⊠I think I donât know. It feels like the kind of thing thatâs impossible to know ahead of time, which might speak more to myself than any sort of objective truth of the sapient experience, if thatâs what youâre getting at. I have friends, I love my family, I have a feeling Iâm at the top of at least one of my classes, I have a lot of promising options for a career. Discounting what weâve been talking about, shouldnât all of that be a recipe for personal fulfillment?â "Perhaps," I say. "ButâŠ?"
Selin glances away, taking in the meadow, the mountains, the cloudless sky. She looks down at her teacup, and the bag resting at her hip. When her eyes meet mine again, thereâs a depth to them, a touch of intention that wasnât present before.
"Should. Itâs what should be fulfilling."
A small smile starts sneaking its way onto my face again.
"What would fulfill you, Selin?"
She takes a breath.
"I said it before. I donât know. But⊠if I break the pot, I might find out."
There she is.
"So," Selin says. "How do I do this?"
The intention in her eyes is resolve now, a fiery determination that I could lead her towards but never outright give her. If, for whatever reason, I were to walk away at this point, I think she has the fuel to figure out the whole thing on her own, like I did. It only serves to reaffirm my decision to help her, though.
"Onto the second topic, then," I smile. "You, Selin, are a dragon. I hope the events of last week proved it well enough for the idea to take root, and in any case thatâs something weâll be working on. That fact is going to be your lifeline and your guiding star. I used to be in the same situation you were, though without anyone to help me through it, and it took me the first eighty precious years of my life to get to the point that I expect youâll be at in three months. At times, the only thing that kept me going was clinging to that fact like it was the foundation of reality itself."
As I talk, I push more and more of my body into inhumanity. Cerulean scales bloom over every inch of my skin, claws replace nails, and a few blinks see my pupils slitted and much sharper. Each change feels like unclasping a weight from my soul and dropping it, letting myself feel freer and indisputably me. Itâs not hard to notice Selin watching me a bit more intently than she was before, though the expression on her face is less than scrutable. My wings neatly fill in the space where the ever-present phantom limb sensation tells me they should be, and I give them a quick stretch and let out a small sigh of relief before continuing.
"The real challenge lies not in knowing who you are academically, but knowing who you are internally. How you think of yourself, what you expect from yourself, what you know to be true and not true about what you are. You need to be able to see yourself in the mirror and know that there is more to you than that shape that you see, and rather than lament what you are not, be proud of what you know you are."
"Is that it?" Selin asks dubiously.
"Oh, of course not," I scoff. "If that was all there was to it, this whole thing wouldnât be nearly as much of a problem. But it is the first step, and I think youâll be surprised by just how much It helps. Just give it a try. Say it out loud."
Sheâs quiet for a moment, lips pursed.
"I donât⊠it feels silly."
"Of course it does. You havenât internalized it yet. But thatâs not going to happen unless you say it. What are you?"
She sighs and pulls in on herself a bit.
"Iâm⊠a dragon."
"That wasnât so hard, was it?" I smile.
"Still felt silly."
"Yeah, but soon it wonât. Here," I say, gesturing to the felt bag at her hip. "Pull out your stone. I think it might help."
She doesnât push back on this, at least, uncinching the drawstring holding the bag closed and reaching a hand in to pull out the glittering purple corundum I gave her a week ago, grasping it with her other hand as she does. The shift is subtle, of course, but to me the way she sits up just a little straighter while she looks at the large gemstone is as telling as anything. When she meets my gaze again, she looks just a bit more sure, which is all we really need.
"What is that?" I ask her.
"Corundum, you said. The same thing that rubies and sapphires are made of."
"What is it to you?"
"I donât think I⊠Oh! Itâs my hoard," she says, needing a moment to realize what Iâm asking. Looking at her face, it takes a full second and a half after saying that for her to remember that some part of her thinks she needs to feel embarrassed about saying it out loud.
"Why do you have a hoard, Selin?"
"Because you gave it to me?" she tries, with a joking smile that doesnât reach her eyes. I raise a brow, and she wilts a little. "Because⊠Iâm a dragon."
"Selin, Iâm afraid that the lady is incredibly old and therefore very hard of hearing," Ember assists me unhelpfully. "You might need to say it again for her to hear it properly."
Selin rolls her eyes, and I only barely manage to keep myself from doing the same. At the end of the roll, though, her eyes land on the gem in her hands, and her knuckles pale slightly as she takes a deep breath and grips it just a bit tighter.
"Because Iâm a dragon."
She has so much further to go, but thatâs the first step. Actually acknowledging it. Itâll take a long time for her to fully believe it, of course, but her voice has the hint of confidence I was looking for, the seed that will grow into something strong enough to shatter that pot into a million pieces. Some small part of her believes in who and what she is, and that makes all the difference.
The three of us settle a bit, actually lying down on the picnic blanket to enjoy the environment and take in nature for a change. Itâs so radically different from city life, with the only sounds being the breeze gently ruffling the foliage around us, the chirping of birds off in the distance, and our own breathing. I donât know whatâs going through Selinâs head at the moment, but I donât have to wonder for long.
"Can I ask what might be a silly question?" she says after some time, staring up at the sky.
"If you want to know the answer, then of course," I tell her.
She shifts a bit on the blanket, perhaps in contemplation, perhaps just finding a more comfortable position.
"What does life⊠look like? After you figure things out. How does it change, I mean?"
I donât respond immediately, because this isnât the type of question that should be answered immediately. Despite how she prefaced it, itâs not a silly question at all. Itâs important, because I can tell she wants to know what to expect from life, to try and understand the situation sheâs found herself in that will have such far-reaching effects. So, how do I answer? What did my life look like, during that century of exploration and obsession? I could describe it for her, sure, but⊠no.
"I hate to say this again, since I doubt it will be the assurance youâre most likely looking for, but once again I think the answer to that is up to you. Itâs your life, Selin, and nobody can tell you how to live it, especially not now. I can say youâll hopefully go through things with a bit more confidence, at the very least, sure in yourself, your capabilities, and your identity. But beyond that⊠I canât divine the answer for you. Your life wonât look like mine, and I wouldnât recommend it either way. You have so many options ahead of you. Stick to your studies, find something new, do some original research into the nature of the soul, if thatâs what interests you. Travel a bit, find ruins, piece together what was lost to history. Start a cult, end a war, go into teaching. Hells, if you really wanted you could go the classic route, find yourself a cave, amass a hoard greater than the wealth of some nations, and terrorize some poor innocent townsfolk. Itâs up to you, Selin."
I have to take a breath after that, preparing my thoughts before continuing.
"But⊠would you like to know what I would advise?" I ask, and Selin nods. "Take your time. Finish your degree. Make friends and spend time with them. Allow yourself to have normality. Donât⊠throw yourself into things, and donât think that everything has to change simply because you figured yourself out. Time is something youâll have a lot of, in the long run, so donât rush it now and miss the opportunities you have just because youâre chasing something greater. Youâre young, and you shouldnât let anything take that away from you. Least of all yourself."
"I canât just⊠ignore all this," she says, but in a way that tells me itâs more of a prompt than a counter.
"And I doubt itâd be healthy to, so donât," I tell her. "But that shouldnât stop you from living the life that you might have, before all this. That you might still want to, just with a bit more clarity. You might be figuring out what you are, but that doesnât change who you are."
"Poignant," she says, her voice carrying a soft smile.
"Well, Iâve had a bit of time to reflect on things," I laugh. "Think about what I wish had happened differently. I doubt Iâd be a very good teacher if I didnât feel some desire to share that insight with someone who might need it."
The rest of the afternoon is pleasant, a nice, idyllic picnic in the mountains, the perfect way to wind down at the end of the semester. Ember did a wonderful job with the preparations (overlooking the fact that the cheeky imp decided to bring dragonfruit for an accompaniment), and it seems as though Selin enjoyed herself too. She looks more⊠settled, perhaps, than she did. Her journey has only just begun, and she clearly knows it, but she also knows more of what it will entail, and maybe she feels a bit more confident in her own ability to complete it. Itâs a good look on her.
"It would most likely be a good idea to head back to the academy sometime soon," I say after another long period of quiet enjoyment. "I wouldnât want to abduct you for so long that the school starts sending out search parties."
"Not unless it turns out Iâm somehow a long-lost princess, too," Selin laughs. "Hey. Earlier, you mentioned the point you expected me to be at in three months. Does that mean you have stuff you want me to do over the summer?"
"Ideally," I respond, "weâd be doing a lot over the summer. Truth be told, I havenât actually done something like this before, as a pretense or not, but, conditional on your interest, I intend to offer you an apprenticeship. It would be significantly more holistic than just studies of a draconian nature, of course, but I think the pretense would also serve as a good opportunity to further your explorations in a setting where privacy is less of a concern. As far as I know, you donât have any preexisting plans for the break, correct?"
"I, uh, wow, yeah. I mean no, I donât," Selin stammers. "I⊠I was just going to stay at home, so Iâll have to talk to my family, but⊠holy shit yeah that sounds amazing, thank you!"
Well, that seems pretty definitive.
"Youâre very welcome," I smile. "I think it will be a good experience for all of us."
"Itâll be nice to be home again for a while," Ember remarks as she begins to clean up.
"Oh goddess, please donât remind me," I groan. "Having the three of you in one place again is going to be bad enough even if I wasnât going to be devoting much of my time and attention to teaching Selin."
"Weâll be good, I promise!" Ember chirps with a smile much too puckish for her human face. "Best behavior."
"I donât believe you for even a second."
"Past performance is not indicative of future results!" she declares. "And besides, would you really deny me this? The city can be so stifling, you know."
"I definitely get that," Selin mutters, pushing herself upright so she can give Ember a hand. "Wait, is that a dragon thing?"
"In all likelihood, yes," I say. "But to be honest, I think itâs a pretty widespread sentiment. In any case, I think youâll enjoy the estate, even with three fountainheads of mischief running around."
I push myself up as well, climbing to my feet and giving my wings one last good flare and stretch before I fold them up and start the transition back into a more human-standard form. Itâs been a long time since Iâve gotten a proper flight in, and they ache to be used, but now is not the time, unfortunately. Though, who knows? I might end up needing to teach Selin to fly before the summerâs over, if she makes enough progress. That would certainly be something.
Cleaning up is quick with many hands once again making light work of things, though I think we all are at least a little reluctant to leave. Selin expresses this by falling back onto the flattened patch of wildflowers where the blanket was, sighing with contentment after an initial small gasp from landing.
"Wow this was wonderful," she says. "Thanks again, for⊠everything."
"You are very welcome, my dear," I tell her. "But stay like that and youâll stain your clothes."
"Oh please, Iâm not an infant, I know how to use prestidigitation," Selin giggles, starting to move her arms and legs like sheâs making a snow angel in spring. She seems to be enjoying herself, at least. "And it is so nice out here. I think Iâd love to come back sometime, if itâs not too much trouble."
"Iâm not the one who isnât accustomed to teleportation," I smirk. "But yes, itâs one of my favorites for a reason."
She eventually stops with her limbs spread wide, getting in a bit more rest before she has to get up. I donât have to take such a long time changing back into my human guise, but itâs nice to spend as much time as close to my real body as I can get. Plus, transformation is such an interesting sensation. And itâs only because I save my draconic eyes with their better-than-human perception for last that I spot it. Or, given that there looks to be a few, them.
"Selin," I start, "out of curiosity, how practiced are you with illusion spells?"
"Not very much at all," she answers, looking up at me quizzically. "I know theory, of course, but it always felt kinda weird to use, so I havenât really used it since second year. Why?"
So, itâs not her doing it as a somewhat odd way of trying things out. Fuck. Thatâs⊠is she even trying to do anything? Or is it just happening, somehow? That would be⊠unimaginable. I kneel down to her left, heedless of dirtying my own clothes, and slip one hand under her elbow, lifting it slightly.
"You might want to brush up," I tell her, gazed locked on her arm. "Goddess above, I thought it was a mole at first. But⊠here."
I touch the space slightly above her inner elbow with my free hand, then guide her arm upwards for her to see. She brings her arm over her face herself, squinting slightly as she does her best to focus with her eyes currently accustomed to the strong light from the sky. Then, they go wide as she sees what I saw.
Seven tiny scales sit on her arm, arranged in a circle with one in the middle. The little cluster is maybe half the diameter of a ten-cent coin all together, the scales in soft areas like joints always being smaller to allow for greater flexibility, but theyâre there, each one a brilliant, rich purple. Perfectly matching the gem I picked out for her, chosen for her favorite color.
I peer through the glass into the holding chamber. The specimen within paces aimlessly, without purpose or direction, interacting with nothing inside.
âWhatâs wrong with it?â I ask.
âSheâs been restless and agitated like this since we separated her from the others.â
I glance over at my partner. ââShe,â huh?â
He shrugs, looking self-conscious. âI mean, look at her. She looks like a woman, doesnât she?â He gestures vaguely into the chamber. âOr like she used to be one. Weâre working on saving her, making her a person again anyway, right?â
I suppose we are trying to save it, but I certainly canât think of this thing as a person the way it is now. Especially so utterly directionless with its connection severed to the rest of its Swarm.
It is a pretty thing, though, I must admit, vaguely person-shaped as it is.
Its skinâor carapace, rather, rigid and chitinousâis a lovely jade green, its limbs elegant and many-jointed.
The dark, hair-like structures on the top of its head are similarly striking. Theyâre probably some kind of setae; Iâll want to collect a sample for study.
It looks right at me through the glass, and I exhale softly in an involuntary expression of wonder. Its multifaceted eyesâtwo perfectly cut rubies of immaculate shine and impossible depthâgrip me with something like longing until, an eternity later, it resumes its pacing.
âDoctor Klein? You catch that?â My partner interrupts my momentary lapse of concentration.
âHm? Oh yes, remarkable eyes. I should document the observation.â
âEr, no. I was reminding you that I will not be staying to join you on your overnight observation.â
âRight. The wedding. Good luck on that. Or congratulations? Iâm never sure what to say about these things.â
He laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. I flinch at the unexpected touch and hope my tight-lipped smile reads as genuine.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves.
âMaybe I am the opposite of you,â I confide to the creature through glass. âYou barely function without the company of your kind, and I barely function while in the company of mine.â
I settle down and get to work. âPerhaps with just the two of us, weâll make good progress.â
I review my notes. When it was captured, the creature was observed to be patient, intelligent, and confident. It threatened several researchers and nearly escaped a half-dozen times before it could be brought to this facility.
And then it abruptly stopped trying.
We predicted some kind of reaction, of course. This facility had been specially constructed to isolate those inside from theâstill poorly understoodâmental connection between members of the Swarm.
We expected it to show signs of agitation, but not thisâŠlistless melancholy.
Its behavior remains unchanged as the hours pass, even as I try various forms of stimulation. It acknowledges nothing, not even recordings of others of its kind. Its eyes focus on nothing in particular, with only one occasional exception.
It watches me observe it sometimes.
I visit the glass-walled room with a fresh mug of coffee, and I catch it looking at me again. I move, and its eyes follow.
Yes, I manage to be a figure of interest even when nothing else is. Because I am the only other living thing in here, perhaps?
I approach the speak-through grill and attempt to open communication.
âHello, my name is Dr. Klein.â
I did not think this through and find myself at a loss without a script. âCan you even understand me?â
It stares at me, unanswering. I fidget with my skirt uncomfortably.
There is something so compelling in its eyes. Though it does not emote like a person, it somehow projects a sense of deep sadness and longing.
âYouâre lonely, arenât you?â The insight strikes me with the force of lightning. I can practically feel its loneliness myself.
Why do I feel like I understand this creature better than my own family or coworkers? Their moods could be inscrutable, but I read this creatureâs melancholy as plain as day.
I press my hand to the glass, and to my surprise, it approaches the window to mirror the gesture.
To hell with the study protocols. I want to understand these creatures, and this is the furthest anyone has gotten.
I override the security on the holding chamber and enter, hoping to reinforce whatever this tenuous connection is. I am more determined than ever to save it.
âDoes this help?â I ask. âThereâs no Swarm here, I know, but Iâm here with you, and Iâm on your side.â
One step at a time, it closes the distance to me. It moves slowly, as if to avoid startling me. The whole time, its beautiful eyes stare into mine.
Soon itâs inches away.
So close, I cannot help but acknowledge to myself that it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I am utterly entranced by it.
When it reaches its hand-like appendage to my face, I lean into the touch.
So smooth. Cool to the touch. Oddly sweet and comforting.
The affection I feel for this thing surprises me, but I do not care to debate myself about the validity of those feelings.
I probably should interrogate my willingness, however, when it pulls my lips to its mouth in a kiss.
The taste is sweet, like honey. Its tongue is almost human, though alien ridges and protrusions along the sides tickle my own tongue in novel and exciting ways.
It pulls away. The experience leaves me feeling gently fuzzy headed and with a welcome euphoria.
The creature opens its mouth to speak at last. âYou save me?â
I recognize, somehow, that it pulled the thoughtâand maybe even the words themselvesâfrom my mind. Something about that kissâŠ
I nod. âOf course. Thatâs the most important thing. May I exit the room?â
It permits me to leave.
I do not bother to reactivate the security.
What I need is fresh air to clear my head, I decide. I make my way through the facility toward the exit, flashing my badge to the overnight guards at the checkpoints.
I need to think clearly if I am to come up with a way to save this creature. And I will save it in a way that is kinder than my partner intends.
No, he would force it to be a person again. Thatâs a cruelty Iâve had to live my whole life with, and I now know of another way.
The lock cycles. As I take my first step outside, the fuzziness in my head clears. It focuses into distant chatter, into light and life and song andâŠ
The Swarm floods my mind. The sudden connection nearly drops me to my knees, but I maintain my outward composure.
Knowledge, thought, and desire floods me in a way that nearly overwhelms.
The feeling of connection and belonging is so beautiful, I nearly cry.
I donât. A precious member of the Swarm is still held captive.
With our combined knowledge, we make a plan to save it.
Not my best work for a sheet but itâll do đ Iâm putting my commissions for my fully rendered pieces on sale for the summer so do feel free to reblog and spread the word :)
Not my best work for a sheet but itâll do đ Iâm putting my commissions for my fully rendered pieces on sale for the summer so do feel free to reblog and spread the word :)
âI canât be a dragon!â He insisted, throwing up his arms in frustration.
âAnd yet, here we are,â the dragoness purred, adjusting herself atop her hoard. Treasure glinted as she shifted her weight in the dim cavelight, catching the tiny creature's eyes.
It was true, the little man thing before her looked nothing like her majestic kind. He walked on two spindly legs, unbalanced and feeble. His skin was soft and pink, rather than the glittering armor of proper draconity. He had no fire in his belly nor fangs in his mouth.
And yet she could smell the dragon in him. The richness of brimstone, the tang of copper and blood. It was weak compared to the oily stench of human, but it was unmistakable. It clung to his furs and coverings like a blanket, holding him tight and warm. If only he could open himself up to it.
âYou made a mistake! If youâre not going to eat me, just take me home!â He insisted, crossing his arms stubbornly.
The dragoness put a talon to her chest, aghast. âI would never eat a hatchling! Iâm not a monster!â
âAnd Iâm not a hatchling! Iâm a thirty year old human man. I have a job and car payments and rent and--â
The human suddenly stopped, gasping in exasperation. He dropped to his knees on the cave floor, clutching his head.
âGod, itâs so much,â he mumbled, all semblance of resistance melting away. âI have so much going on in my life. I canât deal with this right now. I just canât.â
âWould you perhaps like to come back another day?â The dragoness offered.
âWhy wonât you just take me home? Why canât you just accept that Iâm not a dragon, or a hatchling? Iâm just a regular human guy!â
âBecause you are not. Whether you can see it or not, it is there,â the dragoness explained, in the same calm tone she took when rearing her own hatchlings. The poor little dears could be so precocious in their first century, they often needed a guiding claw to keep them on the right path.
The human sniffled loudly and wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve. His prim and proper business casual attire was ruined, both from a combination of the environment and the dragonâs own ministration. Attempts at forcibly bringing the dragon out hadnât worked, and instead merely left him with charred clothing.
âPlease,â he whispered, his voice hoarse in his throat. âPlease just let me go.â
The dragoness cocked her head curiously. âLittle one, you are not my prisoner. You are free to come and go as you wish.â
âBut why wonât you just take me home?â
âWhy will you not simply fly home?â The dragoness offered.
âBecause I canât!â The human shouted, rising to his feet again. âLook at me! Really look at me! Iâm human!â
The dragoness crooned softly as she stared at him. She could see the faint outlines of his soul, aching to burst free. The shadow of a hatchlingâs wings stretched behind the human, longing to hug the sky. An irritated tail lashed angrily, while ears pointed to the ground. Even if the human couldnât see it, it was all so plain to her. She only wished he could see himself the way she did.
âAs much as I wish I could be, I canât be a dragon,â the human whimpered, in the voice of a pained hatchling.
The dragonessâ ears perked up. âYou have a sense of it, donât you?â
âNo!â The human said, defensively. âItâs just a fantasy. A fun fantasy. Itâs not real. It canât be real.â
The dragoness softened. Carefully, she guided the poor misguided hatchling to the edge of her hoard with the curl of her tail. He stumbled forward a few steps, before surrendering and allowing her to pull him up. Gently, she set him down against her warm side, draping her wing over him like a blanket. Slowly, so as to not scare the poor thing, she stuck her snout beneath her wing until her nose was pressed against him.
âNot all eggs have a hard shell,â she said in a quiet purr. âSometimes, eggs are born to the wrong mothers. Or in the wrong form. Itâs sad, when it happens, but it is nothing so unusual as to be unheard of.â
âBut Iâm--â
âShush, little one. Let me finish.â
The human bit his lip and nodded slowly. The dragoness held back a smile, watching the shadow of his ears perk up at her motherly tone.
âYou can feel it, canât you? The way the sky calls to you? The wind sings your name and whispers secrets in your ears?â
The human took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His silence spoke volumes, and the shiver rolling down his back said even more.
âHow treasure beneath you is more comfortable than any cushion?â
The human ran his fingers through the dragonessâ hoard, sending golden coins tumbling with a sound like ringing bells.
âBut I canâtâŠâ he whimpered, opening his tear filled eyes.
âWhy not?â
âIâmâŠâ he paused and shook his head. He held his hands out in front of him, unaware of the claws that yearned to burst from them.
âThese are not your worries, little one,â the dragoness assured him. âThey donât have to be.â
âBut my friends⊠my family⊠my job!â
âIf they truly love you, they will recognize the real you. Souls have a way of connecting, like that. Iâm sure many of them have already realized what you are, even if they could never put a name to it.â
The hatchling shivered, the shadow of his wings and tail twitching nervously. As he wrapped his arms around his chest, so too did his wings. The dragonessâ heart ached at the sight, knowing the poor thing couldnât yet feel the comfort of his own wings. Soon, though. She would help him bring them out.
He breathed deeply of her scent, his human nostrils flaring like a proper hatchlingâs. He leaned harder against her side, pressing his cheek into her soft underbelly. She could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as he finally gave up his restraint. So many emotions were contained in such a frail, little body. The human heart struggled to contain the depth of dragon emotion.
âWould I be leaving everything behind?â He asked her.
âYou donât have to. There is no rule that says you must stay away.â
âBut would I still be me?â
âOh my poor little dear. You are barely yourself now. You are a shadow of your truest self.â
âI would be more myself,â he mumbled.
âAnd free to learn what it means to be you. The real you. Without the weight and burdens of the world holding you down.â
The human sniffled loudly and made a pained whining noise. Definitely not a sound a normal human could make. âIâm scared,â he admitted.
âThatâs okay. Itâs normal to be scared. Youâre about to hatch from your egg of thirty years.â The dragoness let out an infrasonic trill, a sound only dragon ears would be able to hear. The humanâs pulse quickened at the noise, his ears and their shadow perking. âSometimes the comfort of the known feels better than the unknown. There is safety in your world, in constraining yourself to this tiny little shape. But itâs not you. It cannot make you truly happy.â
âI know,â he whimpered.
âYou are beautiful. You just canât see it yet. But you will, when you are ready.â
The human closed his eyes and sobbed softly against the dragonessâ side. She allowed him to empty all the emotions built up over decades of struggle. There was nothing more she needed to say. Her words resonated so deep within the poor little thing that his soul was already taking on a more solid shape. The shadow of his wings and tail already looked so much more tangible. He would hatch soon, she could tell, but not today. He still had struggles to weather before he cracked his human shell.
âAre you ready for me to take you home, little one?â She asked him.
âYouâre taking me home now?â He rubbed at his eyes with a pain stricken face.
âYouâre not ready to hatch yet, but you will be soon. When you are, you will know how to find me.â
The human clung to her side and breathed deep of her scent. âOkay,â he whispered. Shakily, using her wing for balance, he pulled himself up to his feet. He slipped down her piled treasure before stumbling to the cave floor, looking longingly up at her. "When will I be ready?â
âOnly you will know best, dearest,â the dragon purred.
The hatchling rubbed his neck sheepishly, his human cheeks turning bright red. âThank you,â he mumbled. âI didnât realize how badly I needed that.â
âIf you ever need it again, I will be right here waiting for you,â the dragoness crooned.
As the human turned to stride out of her cave, the dragoness chuckled. His footsteps sounded distinctly like talons scraping on stone.
âI canât imagine he will be waiting long,â she purred, reclining on her hoard.
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