Decertare shivered in the damp autumn afternoon, squinting through green and rustling shadows. Blast it, Alucinor, where are you? She growled as a dry prickly weed tried to cling around her ankle, shook it off and started walking again, picking her feet up high to avoid the unkempt tangles. ALUCINOR! WH- there you are! What the heck are you doing out here in the middle of nothing in this weather? It's going to rain on your silly head and get you sick!
Alucinor, sitting in the middle of a wide and clearing, looked up in surprise. I'm sorry, Dec. I was just playing with my garden.
Decertare snorted and made a face, looking around confusedly for this 'garden'. All she saw was dying grass, crisp brown leaves curling up on themselves, scraggles of prickly weeds- and, wait. There, below all the plant debris, the frost wilted and dead remains of spring flowers.
This isn't any kind of garden, not anymore. I'm sorry to break this to you, buddy, but this is fall. Your flowers are gone until next year.
Alu looked at her with a wondering headtilt. What do you mean it's not a garden? My flowers are right here.
Oh, I get it, I get it. Are you going to use your Turning Leaf's ability to bring the flowers back? Even Decertare would have had to admit that a splash of lively spring colors would help ward off the overhanging chill.
But Alucinor just looked more puzzled, and slightly worried, uncertain that he was understanding. Why would I do anything like that? There are plenty of flowers here already. And as if to prove his point he gently, so careful, used his tail to tilt a white puffheaded dandelion toward himself, and blew. The tiny white seed specks flew from the top like snow, whirling in the wind. Alu giggled delightedly as if they tickled him and flapped up into a low whirl to fly with the tiny white flurry for a few brief moments before it disappeared
Decertare groaned and hung her head, embarrassed on her silly relative's behalf. Those are weeds! You're not supposed to grow them on purpose, you're supposed to pull them up!
Why would I do that?! The butterflies like them.
But Alu, the butterflies have gone already.
Oh! Oh! And look what I found! Before she could manage a protest Dec was being dragged and pushed over to a tall weedy spot. Alucinor landed delicately next to it and pointed at a leaf as excitedly as if it were veined with real gold. Look!
There on a leaf, not two inches long, a little line of black and orange fluff. It shuffled slowly and obliviously toward the plant's stem while Alucinor tenderly nudged it and tried not to giggle again. Isn't it funny, how fuzzy it is? He wrinkled his muzzle and chirped delightedly.
Decertare squinted down at the little caterpillar, then up at the purple clouded sky and it's threat of rain, around at the field of dying leaves and grasping tangles of tiny powerless thorns clambering at her feet-
She took a hurried shoving step in front of Alucinor, blocking his view of the field Okay, look, you can keep your garden however you want, but now it's time to go home.
But the fireflies-
NOW Alucinor! You need to get home right now. Off under the thicker trees with you. I'm not going to have you getting sick in the cold rain and leaving me to take care of you while you sniffle.
Alucinor nodded sheepishly, slithered and then flew away home. The garden would still be there tomorrow, there was no need to fight over it. Besides, there were lots of fun crunchy leaves under the trees, and he'd loved jumping in those ever since he was a wyrm.
Decertare stood stock stiff in place until she was certain Alucinor had passed. Only then did she relax with a sigh and step away from the patch of dirt she'd hurried to stand over- and it's tiny sad form of a deceased butterfly. It's white wings were ragged, now, no telling whether it had happened before or after it fell.
I told him they were all gone, and he knows they are, but I'll be cursed if he actually realizes what that means. Probably the silly thing thinks they go away to vacation somewhere. She snorted. Well, that disaster was averted, but only temporarily. She'd have to get rid of it, or Alu would notice eventually. Decertare took a deep breath and got ready to spit a tiny ember, a briskly improvised cremation- but stopped.
So frail, those wings. Like paper. To think that something could fly on them and survive on it's own.
Decertare followed Alucinor home a few minutes later, trying to wipe the dirt off her feet on the damp grass while she walked. The tiny spot of disturbed dirt hidden behind a rock beyond the edge of the field would go unnoticed forever, as planned.
Name: Not yet known
Gender: Male
Age: Full Bishen (and then some)
Mutations: Portal mutations; very old dragon, probably even predating the Great War. This, of course, leads to some interesting questions about the past of Bishel Dragons in general.
Abilities: Passing Time -- he can cause aging in anything he chooses, to the point of disintegration or death; however, he cannot reverse the aging process.
Searing Gale -- he can breathe large waves of deep orange fire
Once more becomes known about this unique dragon more will be written about his personality, history, and overall story. This little plot-less page is not his final destination.
The Bishen Realm