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Ananas Dragon Cookie lounged on their throne, surrounded by gold and wealth. They petted the snoring Pineapplemur in their lap.
The geomancer couldn't help but find the cookies of this island so interesting to watch. They only saw the cookies as tiny crunchy worshippers who we’re entitled to respect their authority. But one young cookie stood out from the rest.
Mango Cookie.
The island was a tightly-knit sea of cookie's, though small, they were kind to anyone who stepped into the island - treating them as if they we're family and friends rather than stranger's who only came to sight see. It warmed their firey heart to see the cookies interact with each other, (though they would not admit it to save their dough). But..something stayed on their mind and sank in their stomach. That bludgeoning little boy. He would make trip's to Ananas Dragon Cookie more than anyone else on the island, carrying up pineapples and plums bigger than him each and everyday. Mango Cookie knew every grain of the island like the back of his hand, having toured cookie's thousands of time's.
Treating every palm tree as sacred like the Dragon themselves, even going so far as to send environmentally safe offerings of fruit and sweet's in the ocean as a thank you for the safe passage of his canoe and it's passengers. They couldn't help but respect the Cookie for his devotion, his time and energy spent making sure the island was clean and not a single stray of trash from tourists lay on their sands. And he chose to do all of this which surprised the Dragon more, he didn't actually have to put this much time and effort into everything he did —the passion for the stories and tall tales of the island embedded in his very soul.
Memorized like the paths of the island, like the rocky steps that led up to Ananas' adorned and luxurious pineapple house. How he cleaned up the forest ground after he delivered the offerings, how he prayed on his knees for all those who we're to passage through, taking everything the tourists and his own family gave him with the open arms of an onlooking religious sanctimony. He'd talk so much you'd think he'd run out of air and pass out, but he didn't. He just kept going, not seeming to know when, or how to stop when asked a question about the archipelagos and it's history—that boy could talk until the sun set and the moon rose if you let him do it.
Lately, the island had a heavy influx of tourists from the Cremé Republic the islander's weren't prepared for, the place flooding with cookie's talking—laughing and playing in their waters, eating juicy watermelons and other fruit that ran down there chin's in sweet delight as they bathed in the sun with visor's, enjoying each other's company. But something just.. wasn't right about these tourists, visitor's on their island they had so graciously allowed passage. It was a large island, but a quiet, comfortingly warm one, and they liked to keep it that way. After all, those cookies could get loud and disturb their work with the fun they had in the Pineapple Isles. But they'd always receive small handwritten notes from Mango, albeit not very good, it being barely legible and clearly was done on his palm and not a flat surface. Always with a little smiley face and a heart, his name haphazardly squiggled at the bottom in a subpar attempt at cursive to impress the dragon. They kept every single note, glazing their piercing claw's over it preciously like it was raw diamond's.
Ananas couldn't help but feel a primal rage inside of them whenever a tourist would yell at Mango to shut his trap. How dare a visitor of their island treat a native Cookie that way?! And one they cherished dearly at that! The audacity of these tourists was starting to aggravate them worse each day. They'd leave there trash everywhere for Mango Cookie to clean up, treating him as a hot commodity rather than a person in his own right. Yelling in this child's face when they didn't get there way. It was absolutely disgusting.
But the thing that irked them the most is that Mango had started leaving offerings less.
Of course, Ananas couldn't necessarily blame him, the trip from the bottom of their mountain to the top was grueling, especially to a small crunchy being like him who had been baked recently —and with a heavy fistful of fruit and sweet's to top it all off, in the hot sun after paddling for almost an hour, was grueling in it's absolute. But it was how tired he looked each time he got to the top and greeted them, damn near falling over each time he bowed in honor when he reached the center of the archipelago. But the boy still did not waver despite the warnings they heeded cautiously under their tongue. Those island's, and there tourists needed him after all. And he wasn't going to stop doing what he loved!
"I see. You are back with an offering again, this is the third time today you have paddled and climbed to my chamber's," The Dragon said, their yellow slits of pupil's narrowing down at Mango Cookie with a heavy sigh as they rubbed their temples. When would this boy learn this would only dig his own grave? They knew he wasn't stupid, either. It takes a smart, and resilient Cookie to remember all those stories, do all that paddling and still being so happy to just be. "I know..I just feel bad for all of the noise! I hate to see the Great Yellow Dragon so upset at the tourists," Mango Cookie looked up at Ananas apologetically with big purple eyes, holding his canoe paddle in his hands as he fidgeted with them anxiously. The tossing sounds of the ore pressing together in-between his palms and echoing the chillingly silent throne room.
"Please, just call me Ananas. You have no need for formalities, you have earned more than enough of my respect to do such," Their wing's flapped spastically, their tail swishing onto the golden floor as they sat with their leg's crossed, their cheek resting in their hand as they held their legendary staff in the other—clearly frustrated about something. "But I want to help! I'll get you more fruits and gold—" Mango Cookie nagged, his body felt so dizzy and his arm's throbbed with numbing pain. He could feel the color drain from his face as he wobbled, leaning on the obscenely large plum he'd brought with him, trying to strain a smile.
"Silence, boy. You have spoken well enough for me to know what's going on, don't think you'd get out of the eye's of a Dragon as great as I."
Mango Cookie looked in horror. His worst fear and biggest concern was upsetting the Great Yellow Dragon that sat before him—he loved them so dearly, wanting desperately for their approval to replace the void of his completely absent parents that was left.
As Ananas Dragon Cookie descended from their throne, standing before Mango Cookie with a look of pity as he shook like a leaf. Mango accepted his fate, prepared for death—the first, and only time that he felt the common as a penny fear for the Great Yellow Dragon. Ananas groaned and picked up Mango Cookie with a single swoop of their arm, carrying him to their nest. "What are you doing? You've left your offering out there!" Mango raised a brow, looking up at Ananas with confusion.
"Making sure you don't work yourself to death. You are a child, I think it's time you start acting like it and have some rest; you absolutely no business driving yourself up a wall like this! All your going to do is hurt yourself more than you already have with your negligence!" Ananas sounded like a parent right now.. caring about a Cookie? And like this? It was absolutely unbelievable to them, a crushing of their narcissistic ego that they'd rather die than endure – but it felt needed for the situation. And they knew that if they didn't step in, Mango would end up crumbling himself surely. Cookie's we're not baked for such extremes, and most definitely not with freshly cooked dough like Mango's.
Mango yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open as Ananas walked to their nest. A cozily large room with a beautiful bed inside, embroidered and handmade with gold intricacies inside of the african blackwood boarding the plush feather pillows and hand crafted mattress underneath the silk sheets. The room smelled of pineapples and salt water, a scent that soothed Mango Cookie as he leaned onto Ananas' chest, hearing the deep heartbeat of a legend which only lulled him deeper into a soundly slumber. Attempting to fight the drowsiness coming before Mango, but failing as they tucked him into the large bed similar to a grandma. It had to be the most comfortable and soft thing he'd ever laid on, or touched, in his life—the wool blanket that was thrown on him was fluffy and sheek, perfectly encapsulating warmth and coolness.
Soft snores came out of the Cookie, resting comfortably. Ananas took the paddle out of Mangos hand, placing it down next to the bed. Ananas gently kissed Mangos forehead, patting his head and ruffling his hair as they left the room and headed for the center of the island.
Those tourist's would not hear the end of it from Ananas Dragon Cookie if they had anything to say about it.
And perhaps a little visit from that “Custard Cookie” they'd heard so much about would do some good. After all—
Cookie's had a place, and they needed to act like it.