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.)

6. Current

6. Current

"Have you heard the news from the Night Kingdom?"

"No."

Water rushes over my scales. I like these tidepools. We have to come here more often. Nobody else has discovered them yet. The beach is ours! I smile. The water is lovely today.

Skinny palm trees stir slightly in the breeze. A seagull is squawking. The tide tumbles in just out of sight. I like the splash and murmur of the waves. Glancing up, I see that the sky's colors are almost as rich as the ocean's.

She touches my shoulder with her wing. That light tap. I know it well. I know it means Current, don't drift off again.

Can I help it if everything is wonderful?

Flapping her wings, she scatters shining droplets. Her scales glow briefly. She is thinking hard. Random patterns light up, gibberish to an Aquatic-seeking eye, beautiful nonsense to me. I wonder why she is tense. Is she worried? Is her news distressing?

Now I am distracted. The Night Kingdom. That is where Fathom was sent to check on a dragon. That dragon, there were many discussions about him. Many closed doors. They say he has the curse of the animus. They say he is like Queen Lagoon's brother, my uncle, Albatross...

No, stop. No, don't drift. Everything is wonderful. I can't drift away.

The sound of a wave breaking brings me back. The ocean rises as high tide approaches. I like the patterns. I like predicting how the sea will move throughout the day. It helps me focus. It helps me remember how happy I am.

Current, don't drift off again.

That's just me, isn't it? Always drifting in and out with the tide. Sometimes I feel happier than ever, like I am now, or I was just a moment ago. Sometimes I feel like I'm at lightless depths, trapped by the criss-cross of the currents, drowning in the memories. I never leave that night, not really.

The tide does not rest. It carries me in and out. Whenever I reach for the golden shores, the rip-current yanks me back to sea, and I cycle through it again. Maybe, one day, I will pool myself on the sands, and stay there and catch my breath. Maybe I'll stop jumping at loud noises, and seeing blood in the seafoam. Maybe. But I know how the ocean works. I know that, though patterns may shift, the tide never stops.

I watch the waves break. They sputter and crash. Their roar fades into familiar music. They haven't pulled me back yet.

"Well, what is it? What's the news?"

She pauses, then says, "Nothing, really. Never mind. Let's go look for shells, and we'll talk later."