K O A
and they will shake their heads
and wag their bony fingers
and wag their bony fingers
"You gotta just do it, Pip."
Koa stands at the edge of the Falling, wind artfully tousling his thick black hair. He's barefoot, wearing loose green joggers with a floral button-down, and the evening sun has cast a rosy glow upon his sandy skin. Below him a sea of clouds and cliff and floating stone create a backdrop of fantasy and beauty unrivaled anywhere in Caido.
It would be an incredibly artful and serene tableaux, if not for the dragon wrapped fiercely around his outstretched arm, squawking righteous indignation to any who'd care to hear.
It's been like this for weeks, now. Ever since Pip hatched at the beginning of Flowerbirth she's stoutly refused to fly. At first Koa figured it was due to youth: her wings were small, her bones were weak, she'd figure it out in time. But time passed, and the dragonling remained perfectly content to ride on Koa's shoulders like a living feather boa, or to nestle in his backpack like a rock, or to otherwise generally use the Dragoon as a personal travel device, and frankly, enough was enough.
So, flying lessons. It started with some basics, which Pip was fully disinterested in. Then birdwatching, but Pip seemed more intent on hunting the poor beasts when they landed. So now Koa has resorted to this: holding the dragon over large spaces, hoping primal instinct will take over and the little monster will become one with the air. So far, all attempts have ended with gouged arms and a triumphantly sequestered lizard, but hey, ninth time's a charm.
"C'mon," Koa half-moans, shaking his arm in an attempt to dislodge Pipsqueak that only has the dragon digging in harder. He's got a leather bracer on this time, which is good, because the needle-sharp claws are already threatening to shred it apart as Pipsqueak shrieks her protest. But Koa only grits his teeth, determined to win this battle of wills. "Pip. You're a dragon. Just let go and fly."
Koa stands at the edge of the Falling, wind artfully tousling his thick black hair. He's barefoot, wearing loose green joggers with a floral button-down, and the evening sun has cast a rosy glow upon his sandy skin. Below him a sea of clouds and cliff and floating stone create a backdrop of fantasy and beauty unrivaled anywhere in Caido.
It would be an incredibly artful and serene tableaux, if not for the dragon wrapped fiercely around his outstretched arm, squawking righteous indignation to any who'd care to hear.
It's been like this for weeks, now. Ever since Pip hatched at the beginning of Flowerbirth she's stoutly refused to fly. At first Koa figured it was due to youth: her wings were small, her bones were weak, she'd figure it out in time. But time passed, and the dragonling remained perfectly content to ride on Koa's shoulders like a living feather boa, or to nestle in his backpack like a rock, or to otherwise generally use the Dragoon as a personal travel device, and frankly, enough was enough.
So, flying lessons. It started with some basics, which Pip was fully disinterested in. Then birdwatching, but Pip seemed more intent on hunting the poor beasts when they landed. So now Koa has resorted to this: holding the dragon over large spaces, hoping primal instinct will take over and the little monster will become one with the air. So far, all attempts have ended with gouged arms and a triumphantly sequestered lizard, but hey, ninth time's a charm.
"C'mon," Koa half-moans, shaking his arm in an attempt to dislodge Pipsqueak that only has the dragon digging in harder. He's got a leather bracer on this time, which is good, because the needle-sharp claws are already threatening to shred it apart as Pipsqueak shrieks her protest. But Koa only grits his teeth, determined to win this battle of wills. "Pip. You're a dragon. Just let go and fly."
in all the wrong directions—
and by daybreak we'll be gone
and by daybreak we'll be gone
