The Hydrus Dragarth
Age: 3 years, 10 months, 3 weeks
Born: July 21st, 2015
Adopted: 3 years, 10 months, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: July 21st, 2015
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
name meaning: Strife
There's nothing like curling up in front of a crackling fire on the coldest day of winter in the cabin you built with your own two paws. I ought to know. This place was constructed by me, from the hand-sawed logs the make the frame to the nails I shaped and cut with no small amount of elbow grease. Let your soft, pampered city folk buy their cheap lumber yard timber that cracks in the cold and takes on the color of an old boot after a year. I'll never take shortcuts.
Unless I can find one to the wood pile outside. Have you stuck your nose out of doors recently? It's cold out there. I don't mean the disgustingly cute couple having a debate about whether she should spend the night. I mean the kind of cold that makes your ears burn as you slowly lose feeling in your fingers and toes.
The only problem with fire is its greed. It eats more than those pesky fledglings that always manage to make a home in that one corner of the roof where I can't reach with a broom to swat away forming nests. They never stop squawking for food to fuel them.
Fire is just the opposite. It ceases its merry crackling the moment you fail to meet its demands.
As soon as I start to uncurl my body, knowing full well it will take hours to get my comfortable position back, the giggling starts. Those blasted snow fairies always get in. I've tried fairy traps with gingerbread but it never does any good. Those pesky, annoying little glitter-bugs are always flitting around, waking me from my nap and leaving their trail of fairy dust to ruin a perfectly good steak dinner. Sometimes they even work up the nerve to try and get a holly necklace around my neck. It doesn't matter how I roar and snap my jaws. They know I would never actually eat one, if I could catch it. Each color of fairy has a unique minty flavor and I despise the taste of mint.
One time I worked up a good wind with my wings and send them tumbling in all directions just for spite. Unfortunately, they thought I wanted to play a game. A whole swarm of the things were perched on my windowsills, trying to figure out how to get in so they could have their turn. I've learned not to so much as twitch a wingtip in their direction since that incident.
There are only four flitting around my head today. Half the usual amount. I must be getting better at shutting the door before they can slip through the cracks. It doesn't matter how fast I am. A few always manage to sneak in. Sometimes I think they have a pact with the mice in the attic that like to thump around like bad ballet dancers when I'm trying to sleep. The mice chew holes in my beautiful walls to give the fairies more points of access and the fairies see to it the lock on my pantry comes undone every now and then to give the greedy vermin feasts from my food.
Snow slaps me in the face the instant I open the door. The fresh piles glow with thousands of lights. Fairies rise from the piles, dancing among the falling flakes as I slam the door and turn directly into the wind to get to my woodpile. My gloves are soaked by the time I've gathered enought to last me the evening and I can feel snow melting through the tiny hole in the back of my left boot. Dratted mice.
The fairies think they are helping as the gather around and attempt to bring their own additions to the fire. Half giggle so hard that they drop their loads in the snow, creating more work for me on a day that isn't quite so biting. The other half drop their logs on purpose, using them as centers for ridiculous snowmen with fancy wings formed by the use of a little fairy magic. These will stay frozen solid until the spring thaw, made useless for the season. I've learned to gather extra wood in the autumn, before the faeries awake.
My whole pelt is wet by the time I tumble inside. The wind is working against me, blowing a few extra faeries inside as I shove my body against the door to get it shut. I utter a few words I learned in the Omen Islands, turning the key and offering my best glare to a pair of violet fairies perched on the antlers of the stuffed antlephore head above the hearth. It takes a few tries before I can get a match lit on the triangle of kindling I've built. I should know better than to use cheap souvenir matches from Delphi. The fire takes on the third try, filling the room with welcome light and warmth.
I curl up in my former place, cracking an eyelid to glare at the timid red and green pair of faeries that dart behind the umbrella stand with nervous giggles. That holly crown in their hands had better not end up on my head. I don't even know how they manage to find fresh holly berries at this time of year but there they are, bright red and ready to smear sticky juice all over my scales the moment they make contact.
I just can't keep my eyes open as the warmth washes over me. Tiny hands and feet use my scales for ladders as I escape the annoyance with a welcome dream of spring. The snow shrinks and finally surrenders to green as the beautiful sun paints the forest with glorious streaks of gold. The promise of summer is on the warm breeze and there is not a single snow fairy in sight.
Coding: x x x x
Name meaning from Here
Overlay by Ankoku
Story by Pureflower
Profile by Shantal
Yellow Snow Fairy
Violet Snow Fairy
Pink Snow Fairy
Red Snow Fairy
Green Snow Fairy
Bluegreen Snow Fairy
White Snow Fairy