{SE} Fool Me Once

I watch the dragon move to gather the grass I need, a light smile on my face. Now that I am less worried about it’s moods, it is easier to see the intelligence of it, the thought that had to go into the actions of such a large creature. It brings me back two great handfuls of grass, the tint of one greener than the other, and I pause to consider the work I’ve done already, to think about where this new depth might fit in. ”Thank you.” I say gently, sorting through each pile of grass quickly. I am back to my weaving in no time, the design on the basket taking shape as a great green dragon, coiled over itself once as it flew through the woven sky. It is so big around that I can’t close my arms around it, but it’s a near perfect size for a dragon. I smile at my work, holding it out to show off again, though not as long this time before I am furiously working again. ”Nearly done now.” I sing song, turning back to smile at the dragon. ”I just hope you like it.” A basket is nothing grand considering what a dragons hoard must be. There is not much better I could do though. ”I need one last thing. Well... three things. Sticks, young enough they’re still supple, for the rim and handles.” A smile at thee dragon, knowing it won’t fail me with this. Tarasha They are neither pink nor pale; And they will never be all mine;

Jigano blew a soft puff of chilly air teasingly over Tarasha's hair at the thanks, looking pleased with himself. He was even more pleased as he watched the Fae's skilled handiwork taking shape, the dragon emerging from the woven grasses as if by magic, and he crooned his approval and how impressed he was as he set his jaw on the ground to better see the basket from all angles while Tarasha held it up. It was, indeed, a work of art, and one he would treasure - for all that his 'hoard' was mostly books rather than gems or jewels.

He remained there, watching with growing excitement as it all came together, but he raised his head to let out an oddly musical trill of reassurance that yes, he liked it very much indeed! The mention of sticks had him tilting his head curiously, but Tarasha explained and his eyes widened in understanding. Indeed, if he tried to carry the basket in his claws now he might puncture the beautiful weaving of it. He rose with a snort and began pacing the edge of the clearing, seeking what his friend had asked for. Young sticks, green and supple... not the easiest things to find in Longheat, but he had developed a better sense for plants since gaining his earth magic and he sharpened his gaze as he prowled, bypassing several potential plants that looked too dry or thick.

In the end it was a young sapling that provided what they sought, not willow in this dry forest but dogwood, stripped of slender young branches by delicate claws (though the first few were a bit mangled in the process). He managed to procure three in good shape, and he carried them gently back to the artist, depositing them at the edge of Tarasha's reach as he settled back down to watch the final touches with eager blue eyes.

The cool breath is, well, a breath of fresh air in the Longheat sun, and I am glad to learn that my new draconic friend is not a fire breather. And even better than that revelation, it likes my work, letting out musical trills and notes. The design is all done, the basket large enough that I could wear it as an exotic dress, if it had the holes for it, and not be considered indecent, but still it needs a little bit more. Luckily, I have an extra set of claws, a pair of sharp eyes at my service, and the dragon is all too eager to help out. Incredibly discerning as well, judging by the time it takes to examine the plants in the clearing. I am presented with three twigs that will work absolutely perfectly for my intents, some of the spare grass wound around the two smaller twigs, and woven into each side of the basket, while the rim is given a similar treatment, a winding pattern of green and tan grasses. When it is complete, I hold it up, offering the finished product up to the dragon. ”For all your sun catching needs.” I announce, bowing slightly as I offer up my work. Tarasha They are neither pink nor pale; And they will never be all mine;

The dragon curled near Tarasha for one last stretch, watching avidly as the green, flexible twigs were turned into a rim and handles, well-anchored and artfully woven into the existing design. It was going to be quite a large basket for a human to tote around, but for a dragon it was perfectly delightful and he grinned a draconic grin of happiness as it was presented. Rising up regally, Jigano lowered his head and closed his eyes in a gallant bow to Tarasha. He wished he had something to offer in exchange... but perhaps at the Midnight Party he could return the favor!

With a low croon of joy he raised his head again so he could balance on his hind legs, then reached his foreclaws to curl gently through the handles. He shuffled awkwardly back a few steps so the Fae wouldn't get caught in the downdraft, then crouched and leaped upwards, wings snapping open and beating down in a rush of wind that swirled the grasses around the clearing as he rose above the smaller Woodland trees and spiraled up into the sky, basket held beneath him as he chased the sun with it, flying higher and higher until the air grew thin and his wings labored to catch enough to propel him further. He raised the basket to 'capture' the burning orb that looked no closer but burned more fiercely at that altitude before he arched back and began to fall back to earth, protecting the basket with his body from the wind of his descent until he was ready to flip over and turn his fall into a glide, letting out an echoing roar of triumph to let Tarasha know that their basket had worked perfectly!

The joy with which my gift is accepted surprises me somewhat, though really I shouldn’t be surprised by anything in this situation anymore. There is a moment of worry when the dragon lifts itself up, but I am presented with an elegant bow instead of anything worth worrying over, and I can’t help the laugh as I bow back. ”I am honoured you like it.” I watch as the dragon réorienta itself, takes a firm grip of the basket, then darts into the sky. I have to lift a hand to shield my eyes as the force of it rushes around me, grass and dirt and hair blowing. The hand stays up as I try in vain to follow the silver shape as it rises and rises, though before long it becomes impossible, the sun too bright and the sky too vast. After a moment, a roar quakes through the sky, drawing my gaze back up. The dragon glides through the sky, coming back down, apparently pleased with its catch of rays. I laugh, my own wings lifting my to the crowns of the trees so I can answer with my own whoop, excitement rushing through me. Tarasha They are neither pink nor pale; And they will never be all mine;

Like it? He loved it! So much, in fact, that he had to put it to use immediately, repaying Tarasha's kindness by hopefully capturing her a few more days of sunshine before LongNight. The basket was not simply elegant but also sturdy, and Jigano was delighted by its construction. If was a fine gift, fit for a prince, and as he dropped to the earth below he saw - and heard! - that Tarasha had risen to join him in the sky.

Jigano did not think he would soon tire of seeing Fae flying on their magnificent wings, and his friend was no exception. He circled her broadly, a croon of gratitude and delight lilting musically from his throat even as his shadow scared up a small flock of songbirds who darted and wheeled away from this strange new predator in their sky.

He couldn't hover the way a smaller-winged creature might have been able to; the best he could manage was to fly close enough to Tarasha to give her a mischievous wink before he gathered his pinions and headed off to catch another thermal, riding it back into the sky high above the Hollowed Grounds. He should have revealed himself to them... and he would, he promised himself.

Just... not yet.

But soon.

{Finished}