Pixel Dragon ficlet

I was tired and needed some words.
This is Penny.


Penny liked working with the hatchlings.

It wasn’t a particularly true-to-type thing for him, he supposed. Breed nor flight were inclined for such soft pursuits, yet when Sernade had assigned him to the hatchling cave, he’d found himself exactly where he needed to be.

Right now, he was up to his haunches in fur, three brand-new tundra babies curled up against him as if longing to be back in the egg. A youngling fae perched on his shoulder, his mother already having gone to serve the Gladekeeper.

Hatchlings left the nest. Penny understood that. He’d left his own nest, his own flight, his own life, long ago, and come here, never looking back.

But sometimes Penny hated the times when they’d be preparing for some big gift to the Glade. Not that they hadn’t done the same thing back home, more times a year than Serenade’s lair did now.

Watching the juvenile dragons, barely past hatching and already bearing battle scars from their hurried lessons in the arena, Penny wanted to bring them all back into the hatchling cage. He worked the little Gladekeeper puppet as he told the story, yet again, of the history of their lair.

Take this story to the Glade, he told them, for we all go there in the end. Remember for the end of your days - and they will stretch on for a very long time, little ones, by the Glade-keeper’s side or here in your mother’s lair - how we came to be.

He petted soft sapphire fur with a claw and wondered, somehow, if there was a way to keep them all.

And A piece about tea

@DialMforMara prompted me
Write about the sensory experience of drinking your favorite tea or coffee.


Comfort.

If it’s my mug, it’s the best. I tested every mug in the craft festival until I found one that my hands wrapped around perfectly.

The pain in my joints fades. Any chill - there is often chill - is banished. I put the mug against my sternum and breath in the steam and my breathing is easier, my chest hurts less. Everything is calm.

The taste, when it cools enough to drink, is slightly bitter, a tannic brew that clears my throat and wakes my brain. The smell is lighter than the taste - it smells mostly of the steam, most days. Even with the cool enough to drink, the mug is comfortable, nice against my hands. Thick ceramic, it holds the heat for a long time.

Coffee is a drug and a calorie delivery system. Tea is slower, clearer, feeling more like clearing out, cleaning out. My lungs feel more open. My brain feels more open. I take another sip. I take another moment to hold the mug.

Comfort.