{
  "$type": "site.standard.document",
  "canonicalUrl": "https://serpentsquiggles.neocities.org//posts/fiction/endless-stars/08",
  "path": "/posts/fiction/endless-stars/08",
  "publishedAt": "2019-01-12T00:00:00.000Z",
  "site": "at://did:plc:ivoe7cntxuy6at7uzmxzs2ft/site.standard.publication/3mfk6cpprzt2t",
  "textContent": "::: subchapter\nWould this day ever end? This entire adventure had passed in one day,\nin one evening. Yet, in my mind, in my aching legs, and in my\nrelationship with Hinte, a whole cycle might have passed. More had\nhappened today than in any other cycle of my life.\n\nRoutine dominated my days. Wake up before the second dawn ring, Kinri.\nCheck by the coutiers, maybe your brother finally sent a letter. Go to\nmoil at the Llygaid Crwydro every day, except (stars, don't forget!)\nnot on the purportedly-sacred crestdays and troughdays. Hope\nCthwithach-sofran has time to teach you anything, else you'll have\nnothing else to show the day wasn't waste. Let Uvidet-gyfar drag you\nout to play cards at the Moyo-Makao every other day. Check by the\ncourtiers again, you never know. If you grow bored of\nthings⁠ ⁠---⁠ when you grow bored of things⁠ ⁠---⁠ you can beg the\nguards at the south gate to let you out, and fly some laps in the pretty\nred ravines south of town. Then sneak out at night and look at the\nendless stars.\n\nAll of the excitement and terror of this break from routine had\nexhausted me... but it was worth it, to spend some time with Hinte that\nwasn't just phatic fumbling.\n\nWith that thought that my thoughts lighted back in the present, only to\nturn to a springing worry that maybe this all may just as well have\nruined my chance to be friends with Hinte. Worries like company, and it\nwasn't two breaths before my dewing turned to considering all big,\nimportant dragons around me and what they were thinking. Why was Adwyn\nglancing back at me? Why was Rhyfel walking so close to the orange\ndrake? What were Cynfe and the faer murmuring about? Why did it sound\nlike nothing related to the humans? Did Hinte feel as alone as she\nlooked right now?\n\nWith my heartbeat quickening and my feet stumbling forward as we\nfollowed the faer toward the meeting room I found myself planning my\nnext conversation with Hinte, searching long the face of the orange-eyed\nwiver, wracking my brain for something simple that might thrust us into\na nice tension-wringing exchange⁠ ⁠---⁠ but nothing came, even when I\nopened my mouth hoping anything would come out nothing came, and I\nclosed my mouth and licked my fangs⁠ ⁠---⁠ did anyone else smell my\nworry?⁠ ⁠---⁠ but maybe this wasn't so serious, maybe this wasn't worth\nall this worry?⁠ ⁠---⁠ and maybe you should slow down, calm down, and\nbreathe, Kinri, and--and with that you find yourself finally slowing,\nstopping to breathe, and breathing deep. I continued on, relaxing my\nshoulders, and curling my neck. I was fine. This wasn't anything to\nworry about.\n\nI didn't really know anyone here besides Hinte --- and I couldn't really\nhave a normal conversation with the military adviser or the faer,\nanyway. Maybe secretary or the high guard? But the blue-green wiver\npadded in front of us, murmuring beside the faer, and even the\nscarlet-scaled high guard's mere presence felt intimidating.\n\nThe atmosphere here sat so serious on my wings. My mindeye aimed\nsearching, longing glances to the silly side of things. But the gyras\nspent in the courts and parties of sky, of my family dragging me to act\njust like them, obscured my sight, and all I felt were old instincts\nreturning.\n\nKeep your tail down, hang it by your hindlegs. Do not raise it, do not\ncoil it. You are not some dewy-fanged slut or farm-wiver.\n\nClear your eyes when someone looks at you, keep your frills listening.\n\nKeep your frills by your neck. No one wants to see them.\n\nFlick your tongue if you must, but do not wave it. Nothing smells\nthat good.\n\nIf some sot's scent is so strong you can smell it, wave your tongue.\nThey clearly think they smell that good.\n\nKeep your fangs in your mouth, and keep your venom on your tongue. If I\ncan smell your dew, something is wrong.\n\nAnd hide your fangs, you are not some dewy-fanged slut or\nfarm-wiver.\n\nWe'd reached a single black bamboo door, and when the faer inclined her\nhead, Cynfe darted in front. The doors revealed a meeting room dim and\nempty. Light from the hall rushed forth, and met with the night sifting\nin from a wide window perched high at the opposite end of the room, a\ndance of moonlight, lamplight, and coy shadows cast by interminate,\nambiguous movements of unseen figures.\n\nCynfe slinked in, quickly lighting the lamps that circled at the\nfarthest fringes of the room. Now lit, those lamps reversed the flow of\nlight pouring in through the window; and, revealed a simple room\ncentered with a drab gray slab higher than my knee and orbited by soft\nmats, and further away, smaller and darker slabs. The triangle-like\ncenter slab was glaring with piercing yellow specks and brimming with\nlong, angular streaks of red. Around the slab sat the nine long mats,\nconcave and fit for lying in with some comfort⁠ ⁠---⁠ but not too much\ncomfort: this was a meeting room.\n\nVarious maps scattered around the walls and surfaces in a mess, and\nvague books lined a single bookshelf. But the center of the slab's\nsurface lay blank. The faer walked to the farthest corner of the three,\nand stood there.\n\nI watched the faer gesture Hinte toward one of the other slabs off the\nto the side. The black-cloaked wiver stepped over and dumped the bodies\novertop the maps and I copied her. As we stepped away I saw Adwyn\nglancing over at the bodies, the orange drake's features curling into a\ndisgusted sneer. I found myself thinking of the ornery musician on the\ncatwalks.\n\nThe faer had lain on the mat at the head of the slab, Cynfe beside the\nfaer, and Rhyfel beside Adwyn, those two lying at a different corner of\nthe slab, the orange drake brushing a wing against the other.\n\nWe could have lay beside the blue-green wiver --- she seemed\ninteresting, and I was doing a bad job of hiding my repeated glances at\nher scales or her black and gold robes. A secretary⁠ ⁠---⁠ maybe she\ncould tell me what I had to do to become one.\n\nI was stepping toward her when Hinte lay the last corner of the table,\naway from everyone else, and I didn't have much a of choice then.\n\nWith that, the faer spoke, brilles cloudy, pulling a stack of paperwork\nfrom⁠ ⁠---⁠ somewhere. She said, \"As we are all present and seated,\nCynfe will you review the incident?\"\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe secretary recited Hinte's account of this evening in rapid bursts of\ny Draig I had trouble following. The cliff tongue had always been my\nweakest, after Pteron, and the one I had used least until⁠ ⁠---⁠ a few\ndances ago.\n\nI didn't see need to listen, anyway. And I didn't need to think about\nhow I fit into all of this. It was easier to try to slip into the\nfacade of old Kinri, be a passive observer, try to learn what all the\ndynamics here were.\n\nAdwyn lounged on his mat. His frills twitched in listening, but it was\neffortless listening. Beside him, Rhyfel had a frown and frills spread\nwide, nodding at every word from the secretary.\n\nThe faer had said these two were the only two with anything worth saying\non the matter. Adwyn, I could more than see; in all my experience with\nhim, he'd never given an impression besides coiled, waiting\nintelligence. Rhyfel seem to have more to him than impressions, though.\n\nThe red wiver lay idly watching over the table. In front of her, she had\na stack of pages dense with text and held in her wings a glass pen. You\ncouldn't know what sat on those pages, but it was what had occupied her\nwhile the secretary recited.\n\nNow though, as her secretary's speech seemed to be cadencing, she\nwatched over the table with a certain intensity, even as her brilles\nremained deeply clouded, and even as she rubbed her eyes in apparent\ntiredness.\n\nMaybe it was the power you knew lurked in those eyes, maybe it was the\nharsh but balanced angles of her face. Whatever it was, her gaze hardly\nleft Adwyn and Rhyfel, and I was glad for that.\n\nFor their part, Adwyn frowned and Rhyfel nodded along.\n\n\"...and that is all.\" The secretary wiver set a wetly inked page on the\ntable and produced up another, this one blank.\n\nWhen she finished, the mysterious high guard whistled loudly and turned\nhis savage grin to Hinte. \"Nice acts, Gronte-wyre. Mighty impressive,\"\nhe said. Beside him, Adwyn gave a thoughtful hum, and the faer was\nglancing between them. Rhyfel continued, \"They must make 'em fierce in\nthose forests! I know your boy, Ushra, from way back. The resembalance\nis something.\"\n\nThe faer coughed then, and gave the high guard a pointed look. The high\nguard tilted his head, and she spoke low and casual, saying, \"Your\nfather knew Ushra. Your tongue slipped.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, Ushra and the ol' Rhyfel --- she knows the story, I reason.\nSuffer it to say I heard all the old drake's stories of that drafty old\nalchemist.\" His voice came loud in the room.\n\nThe blue-green wiver was glowering at him, frills wrinkling. She jotted\ndown Rhyfel's commentary with sharp jerks. As you glanced around, most\nwere looking at Rhyfel, but Adwyn glanced at Cynfe.\n\nThe military adviser said, \"The coordination and reaction of these\nhumans gleans interesting.\" He steepled his feet, and said to Hinte,\n\"You stood your ground well, Gronte-wyre.\" Hinte's frills were\ntwitching at the title. He continued, \"What is it you do? You must\nwork with Ushra in his clinic, correct?\"\n\nRhyfel laughed. \"If it's still a clinic when you got to wait till the\nstars align with both moons on the crestday 'fore he deigns to\novercharge you for an examination.\"\n\nAdwyn licked his eyes. \"I can see the reasoning.\" He waved an alula as\nhe continued. \"Ushra wants to keep his return to the cliffs a rumor.\nSeeing to anyone at all is going to reveal that in the long run. It is\nadmirable that he does anyway.\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah, he's a good fellow --- or was, maybe --- but it doesn't\nchange that he charges out the sky. It's not like he's starving for\npyrite, at all.\"\n\n\"Then seeing anyone at all would be a charity, would it not?\nIrregardless,\"⁠ ⁠---⁠ he looked back to the dark-green wiver⁠ ⁠---⁠ \"you\nmight have your claws full helpin",
  "title": "Reglaze"
}