Loose Threads

by Fatespeaker

Darkstalker's story leaves us with a lot of questions. Who exactly was Queen Pearl, sister of Fathom? How much did the seer Allknowing really know? What happened to Thoughtful and Whiteout? Where did Clearsight's friend Listener go? These are the loose threads, the forgotten dragons. Let their voices be heard at last. (Collection of soliloquies from different perspectives.)

3. Thoughtful

3. Thoughtful

First, find the glass. The unwanted shards, the broken bits. Anything will do. Pieces of puzzles that have never quite fit.

Love isn't the problem. Our love isn't what hurts us. The IceWings and NightWings can hurl whatever they want at us, ostracize us, wipe us out of their history. I will stand beside her.

We were given fair warning. We knew what we were getting into, Whiteout and I. My friends told me to stop visiting her. My family threatened to disown me. I didn't listen, thank the moons. I chose to stay and struggle.

"She's Darkstalker's sister. There's a world of trouble ahead for you two."

Yes, Listener. I know.

Insults. Outrage. Judgement. We've been through it all. And there's more up ahead.

Maybe love is fragile. Maybe once our warm, molten hearts cool down, they become brittle and breakable. But you know what? That same love also makes us tough. It's strange and rare and precious. It's worth fighting for.

Melt the glass. In the absence of a proper furnace, several strong breaths of fire will do. Then gather it all on the blowpipe and shape it on the marver.

I still stare at all of her drawings in awe. She still laughs at the glass baubles I hang in her room. We say silly things to each other and discuss our feelings with creative adjectives. I forget about everything that's happened - all the tragedy and all the hatred - and I am happy.

Every time I see her face, I smile. I love how she glances back, waiting a moment before she grins. I love her soft voice, the way that she sometimes speaks with unusual emphasis. I love the odd little poems that she mutters in the morning.

Blow the glass with the pipe. Continue adding to it until it looks about right. Cut the score lines. Finally, use the punty rod to open the glass and finish the piece.

She sits by the window, painting. I am at my furnace, working on my glass ornament. I think I will etch snowflakes on it.

"We are a beautiful disaster."

Yes, Whiteout. We are.

She shows me her canvas. The colors are splattered and smeared, mixed up and perfect. It's wonderful, Whiteout. It's beautiful. I don't understand it. I don't have to. I adore it anyway.

We haven't changed that much. After all these years, we are still the same dragons. She loves me, and I love her. I love the life we've chosen. Thank you, Whiteout. Thank you for this beautiful disaster.

Let the glass cool and harden. Once that's done, there you have it. Hold it to the light. A work of art: new, different, and beautiful. Be careful. It's delicate.