Thumbnail Credit to rinpin.tumblr.com
There's some cussing, but nothing that would make me change the rating just yet. Mostly background building.




~~~
He had lost her.
He had lost them centuries ago, let her down, but the failure hit fresh all over again sometimes, when the weather was cold and the icicles that were suspended around his chosen den sparkled in moonlight. A lover dead, the little Treasure they had created stolen by short lives.
It hit him all over again sometimes. When he held the shards of a shell long since turned to cold stone, remembering the look on his lover’s face when the little one tumbled out. When he looked at his lover’s portrait, another image of her holding his little one securely for the first time as their hatchling crooned at them would oft times gleam, shimmering in his mind.
Lost. All lost.
She woke up, as she always did, right when the anger of the old Dragon in her nightmare reached its peak. Frosne Menninghar (Pronounced FrozNay MINingHAR. Fros for short, and it did not sound like the plural of afro, thank you.) wanted to bang her head against the wall, but thought better of it. A headache first thing upon waking would really do nothing but make it worse. Dreams were, after all, nothing but dreams sometimes, and inexplicable connections to Elder Ones too much to contemplate before coffee.
Frosne had been having these dreams for all her almost seven hundred years. She did not understand why she was connected to the Fire based Dragon. An Ice and Water Dragon such as herself had little in common with such one as he, despite their natural scaled forms. It was true though, especially for the Elder Ones, like she suspected the Dragon in her “dreams” was that Dragons chose their Element while still in the egg, so parents could be a Stone Dragons, but a single clutch could have Fire, Wind, Metal, and any other type of Element among the hatchlings. The possibility of deviation from the parent Dragon increased dramatically if one parent was not Dragon.
Much was Frosne’s own predicament. She had no idea who her Dragon father was/had been, but her mother was Other. Neither Dragon nor human (or “short lives”, as some Otherkyn referred to them as), Frosne’s mother had been as secretive about her own species as she had been about who Frosne’s father was. Back in 1369, when Frosne had been hatched, any hint of being a non-human could be dangerous. True, it was both easier and harder back then to hide, but if you were found out today, early in the year 2013, there would be no mobs, no pitch forks, none of that “kill it before it eats our virgins” nonsense. (Which, really? Really humans? Virgin might taste different to a vampire –maybe- but a Dragon? Who the fuck cared, as long as the stomach was filled?). True, there were still those who would denounce any Otherkyn as monsters, and Dragons more oft than not were on the list of “Just keep quiet, it’s not worth the attention” sort of people. But these days, most people knew about the “supernatural”, or the “paranormal”. They might not readily acknowledge it out loud, appearances to upkeep and all, but if an average human being were to see an Elf having a rather heated conversation with a were-Tiger in a partially shifted form walking down the street, they’d know it was a blithering Elf and Tiger shapeshifter. No real mystery there. Sometimes Frosne thought humans just preferred to act like they were the only bipedal dominant species. Something about the idea must comfort their minds or some other such drivel.
Oh well. Fuck it. She needed to get to work.
~~~