Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So far, it was another perfectly normal day at Jade Mountain Academy. It was a little over halfway through their third year of operation– more than four whole years since the war ended , Peril remembered with a jolt–and things were finally, finally, running smoothly for once. No students were trying to kill each other, the grade and age limitations actually made sense, and there were enough staff members so that not every one of them had to teach thirty-six or so different classes. Some of them didn’t even teach any classes at all, instead travelling the halls and helping out where they could.

Peril was one of those staff members, along with Fatespeaker and a couple other dragons she didn’t really know. There was only so much Peril could do with her firescales considered, but she still made herself useful. (At least, she hoped that was what she was doing.) Even if she could do more, the nature of her job meant there would always be periods of time when she was left to her own devices.

The present moment had turned into one of those times, and Peril wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. She was decent friends with Fatespeaker, but the NightWing was covering for some history teacher who was out with a head cold. If Fatespeaker was busy, then Clay definitely was, and so he wasn’t open to hang out with either. So she was sitting on the floor of the staffroom, door propped open with a brick to avoid giving herself carbon monoxide poisoning, dwelling on her own thoughts. They bumbled along like sparks in her brain, forming and fading out until she found something that would set ablaze.

What am I going to do for lunch today? I’d rather not eat charred whatever, but everybody seems too busy to help. I guess I could try spearing something on a stick again, that worked pretty good last time…

Will I die if I lick my own talon, or will I just burn my tongue real bad? A few dead taste buds and a sharp “OUCH!” later– Well, at least I’m not dead. That was a terrible idea…

Things have been pretty boring lately. Well, I guess Sunny’s mom the QUEEN OF THE WHOLE SAND KINGDOM showed up yesterday, but y’know, no big deal.

Unlike the others, Peril dwelled on that last thought a bit longer–stoking the coals, so to speak. She brought to mind the SandWing dragoness and her visit, picturing her tan scaled form. Thorn was a bit brash, even to Peril, who grew up as a gladiator for crying out loud, but as different as she and Sunny were… she definitely cared for her. Thorn might not have been the best dragon in the world, that was for sure, but she definitely loved her daughter. She cared about her a lot.

Did my mother care about me like that?

There it was. The train of thought had caught fire in her mind, tumbling down a path that would keep her occupied for the next hour or so. It was a bit of a heavy topic, sure, but it’s not like Peril had a say in the matter. Worse things had happened to her on a daily basis for the first eighteen years of her life, after all. So. Kestrel.

Peril sighed, looking up at the ceiling. She never knew her mother very well–her own hatching was a blocked-out haze, and Kestrel hadn’t exactly been open or affectionate in the few times she interacted with her since then. Peril’s guess on the subject was good as anyone else’s. Even those who did know Kestrel didn’t seem keen on saying much. So maybe Peril’s mother hated her, or maybe she loved her dearly, nobody would ever know. Kestrel herself was too dead to ask.

Wow. That’s really depressing… How about living parents? I have one of those, right?

A cold knot began to form in Peril’s stomach as the image of her father, Chameleon, came to mind. He had earned her trust, only to stab her in the back at the end of it all. She knew, logically, that she should hate him, but in her heart… she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Remember what Clay told you, she tried to remind herself, you don’t need anyone, especially not him. He’s not your problem anymore.

Well, she tried to follow that advice, she really had! But Peril had her own thoughts at the end of the day, and all of them reached out for her father like a needy dragonet. She wasn’t even sure why– last time she’d checked, Chameleon was terrible . Well, there were a couple reasons she could think of…

The first was a lot more obvious. Simply put, Chameleon was the only living family she had left. Peril had always wanted one of those; dragons she might not have otherwise known who were still there for her, and who all cared for each other. Sure, her family didn’t need to be blood relatives–the former dragonets of destiny, for example, were practically siblings, and none of them were even the same tribe . But for Peril… it just wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was all Scarlet’s fault. Growing up, the SkyWing queen had always dangled the idea of family above Peril’s head. When she believed her lies, it made Peril think of Scarlet as if she was her own mother. When she doubted them, Peril had some nebulous goal to long for. Even after she’d met Kestrel and left the palace, it still didn’t go away! It stayed with her, and it was what Scarlet used to fool her again.

That brought her to the second reason. It had been Scarlet who lured Peril in, Scarlet who fed her nothing but lies… Chameleon was just a microcosm of her greater scheme. Which brought to mind the question: did Chameleon want to do any of it? Peril knew what Scarlet was like firsttalon– feeding Peril her thoughts until she was convinced they were her own. She couldn’t help but wonder: had it been the same for her father? It’s not like he had anywhere else to go– shunned from his tribe for a disability he couldn’t control?

Peril sure as snakes knew what that felt like.

Peril's vision began to blur, and she hurried to dry her eyes before steam would rise from her scales. It was just in time, as two sets of talonsteps thudded towards the door just moments later. Peril stood up to greet them, brushing off the soot that had formed on her scales.

“Peril! Hey!” Fatespeaker was the first to greet her, but Peril could still see Clay standing a few paces behind her. “Me and Clay were going to break for lunch with Starflight in the library. Wanna join us?”

“Yeah, sure, sounds great!” Peril smiled and nodded with her response. It was fake at first, but it grew more real as she took in the light behind her friend’s eyes and the delightfully mushy smile on Clay's face. She fell back at his side when she joined them on route to the library, a tingly feeling going down her spine whenever his scales brushed against hers.

There was a comfortable silence as they walked down to the library, and Peril’s woes subsided for a moment. It was only broken by the swell of idle conversation, and Peril was more than willing to participate.

“Oh! I think I already told Starflight and Sunny about this, but I definitely haven’t told you guys,” Fatespeaker was beginning, a knowing grin on her snout. “It’s a really great story, but it’s also a really long one. You guys have time to hear it, right?”

“Do birds fly?” Peril asked rhetorically, a grin now plastered on her own snout. “Come on, you’re practically laughing already and I want to hear this! Spill.”

“Alright. ‘K, you remember Tsunami’s partner Riptide, right?” giggles broke through what was supposed to be a steady tone, and Fatespeaker had to pause for a few moments before starting again. If Peril’s interest wasn’t piqued before, it definitely was now, and it seemed Clay had taken notice as well, albeit with a bit more detached horror to his expression. “So, just earlier today, I was out catching myself some breakfast or whatever, right? Well, I guess I went a bit far out, and guess who I ran into? So we started talking, and…”

Fatespeaker continued on, and Peril was finally feeling better. She knew it wouldn’t last, and that she’d probably end up dwelling on her dad later, but there was no point in depriving herself from the momentary joy of her friends. She could deal with it later.

Little did she know, her problem was on the way to dealing with itself.

Mastermind sighed, opening his eyes only to see the familiar walls of his prison cell around him. It was better than the sandpit, he supposed, with enough of a window to let in the pleasantness of the outdoors, but it was far from an ideal living situation. That was the point, he supposed, but it was still dreadfully boring.

After looking around for a few moments, Mastermind noticed what had woken him up. In the time he’d been asleep, a tray of food (lunch, if the light levels were anything to go by) and a rolled up scroll had slipped through the slot under his cell door. Mastermind slid the food closer to himself, taking a few bites before unrolling the scroll and beginning to read its contents.

It was from Starflight, of course–nobody else ever really wrote to him. Not like Mastermind knew anybody else, anyways… Either way, it was a perfectly normal letter. He detailed how things were at Jade Mountain, mentioned how he and Fatespeaker ended up stuck babysitting his niblings–Fierceteeth’s dragonets–a couple weeks ago, and how they’d been lucky enough to get a short, mild winter this year. It was well written, as all of Starflight’s letters always were, and Mastermind couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of pride at the dragon his son had turned out to be.

Yet, beneath the joy the letter brought him, Mastermind couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off . It was a quaint letter, sure, but oddly impersonal. It didn’t mention how he felt or contain any cues for a response. It was only a step above the type of letter you’d send to a colleague, really.

Moons above, does the kid hate me or something? Mastermind hated the thought of it, but it wasn’t something he could just dismiss. Based on the last time they’d talked face-to-face… it was certainly plausible, wasn’t it?

Mastermind didn’t like the thought of that. Simply put, it made him feel bad. …which, in turn, only served to make him feel worse .

So what if he hates you? He’s within his right! Mastermind bit his tongue, claws trying to dig into the floor. It’s only fair. You know what you did.

Mastermind noticed his vision beginning to blur as tears welled in his eyes. He reached up with a paw to wipe them away. Looking down at where he’d left the scroll on the floor, Mastermind hesitated for a moment before making the conscious decision to flick it away with his tail.

I’m probably reading too much into it. He tried to reassure himself, but the conscious thought disagreed with his emotions on the subject. Any energy he had before was sapped away, and Mastermind wanted nothing more than to lay down his head and sleep for a bit. Hopefully he’d have forgotten about it by the time he woke up…

Still, Mastermind couldn’t bring himself to abandon his lunch. He’d spent more than enough years starving; he knew better than to let perfectly good food go to waste. He ate up what was left of the food, not caring to observe what kind of meat it was.

After finishing his meal, Mastermind curled up on his cot with his tail to his snout. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, only dozing. He slowly blinked them back open at the sound of a cell door rattling open. He’d set aside his glasses, and all he saw was a blur of green before a muffled thump and the sound of the door closing could be heard.

Mastermind sat up, putting his glasses back on and searching for the change in his environment. It didn’t take him long to find it. His ears pricked up as he noticed a RainWing slumped on the cell floor where there certainly hadn’t been there before.

They were certainly different from any RainWing Mastermind had seen previously. Most of the time they wore their scales in jewel-bright shades, with subtle patterns that constantly shifted. This dragon, however, seemed to be an exception. Their scales were a dull lime green, with the only variation being darker over-scales, lighter underscales, and a line of brighter scales going down their neck to match the scoot around their eye. The brightest part of their body was probably their wing and frill membranes, but even those were a desaturated sort of yellow.

After directing his attention towards the RainWing’s head, Mastermind already had a hypothesis about why this dragon’s scales were the way they were. They had a noticeable deformity on their snout, where it scrunched up over the bridge of their nose. Their fangs jutted out from their mouth at an odd angle, and a few more accessory teeth were also present. Based on the ragged sound of their snoring, it wasn’t hard to infer that their snout deformity was the reason for their atypically coloured scales.

It made sense if you thought about it, after all; RainWings processed light from the sun into energy, but they could only do so when they were sleeping. Without that extra energy to go around, the processes required for a RainWing’s colour-changing scales wouldn’t be able to function. It was interesting in its own right, but Mastermind was easily sidetracked, and he found himself thinking about whether or not the sleeping habits of RainWings crossed over with photosynthesis.

In fact, Mastermind found himself so lost in thought, he didn’t notice as the dragon across from him began to wake up. He missed a frill instinctually twitching in response to the dart still stuck in their neck, wasn’t looking when their eyes blinked open, and still wasn’t paying attention when they stood up and faced him.

It was thanks to this distraction that the first thing Mastermind ended up saying to his new cellmate, without any other context, was:

“Chlorophyll…”

Starflight sat back in his chair, letting the hum of conversation surround him, but never quite joining in. He laughed when somebody said something funny, and nodded like he was listening when the conversation got a bit more intense. He was paying some degree of attention, or at least he was trying to, but…

Starflight couldn’t quite put a talon on it, but something else was definitely pulling him away from the conversation.

“Oh, shoot, I haven’t gotten anything to eat yet. Peril, do you need me to get you something?” Clay’s voice broke up the conversation, and the sound of him getting up from his seat could be heard.

“It’d be nice, but you don’t have to…” Peril answered sheepishly, although Clay probably would have gotten her something even if she’d vehemently opposed him. “Er, could you please maybe avoid getting something with feathers, though?”

“Of course!” Clay said in response, his grin nearly audible. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

There were a few moments of near-silence as Clay headed for the door, only for the silence to be broken by a muffled shout from Fatespeaker.

“Ah, millipedes and moon rocks, I forgot to catch myself something to eat too!” She jumped up as she spoke, and Starflight felt the warmth of her body moving away from his side and towards the door. “Clay, wait for meeeee-!”

Starflight let out an amused huff as the sound of the two of them faded from his ears, leaning further back in his seat. If he could, he would have just sat back and relaxed.

Except today, he couldn’t. 

Because today, he was stuck in a room with Peril, of all dragons. Peril who hummed to herself and lashed her tail and was just too warm. Even worse, he could feel the warmth of her scales from all the way across the room; he was constantly reminded of the walking fire hazard in his presence. And that was exactly what she did, for a whole five and a half minutes, before suddenly deciding to stop all that and drop the heaviest conversation topic known to all dragonkind. Typical Peril, really.

“Hey, we kinda have the same parent situation,” Peril blurted out with unfitting casualty, “y’know, dead mom we never really knew, estranged dad, the works. That’s a weird coincidence, huh?”

“I…” Starflight wasn’t able to come up with a response right away. He bit his tongue, wings hugging his side as he curled up around himself.

The subject of his parents was one he preferred not to think about. His mother had died before he ever even met her, and from what he’d heard, she didn’t exactly seem like mother of the year material. Better than Kestrel, but she just let Morrowseer take his egg for the prophecy… At least he knew his father loved him, cared about him, all that. From what he’d seen, he was proud of him, more proud than Starflight was of himself. They had a lot in common, too, except… Mastermind had been involved with the experiment. Starflight wasn’t even sure how to feel about that whole situation on its own, let alone his father’s involvement in it. An uncomfortable mix of emotions tugged at his heart, and he wasn’t sure what would come out in his response.

“Why on the moons forsaken earth would you just bring that up!?” Anger ended up winning out in the end. “That’s some of the most depressing shit in my life–in both our lives–and you just bring it up like the weather or something!”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to strike a nerve or whatever,” Peril tried to speak casually once again, but there was an obvious hurt seeping through her words. It faded, however, when she drifted off topic to remark: “Wait, did you just swear!? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before. I mean, it’s not like Clay or Sunny, who are pretty much physically incapable of saying anything worse than ‘balls’ or whatever, but still.”

“...how do you manage to get sidetracked from stuff like that!? ” Starflight exclaimed in response, flailing his paw-like talons meaninglessly. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, but seriously…”

“Right, that. If you don't mind sharing, how are things between you and Mastermind?”Peril said with just a bit less tact than was befitting of the subject matter.

“They’re fine, I guess,” Starflight began noncommittally, “I write to him once a month, he writes back when they let him. He loves me, cares about me, says he’s proud of me and all that. It’s just…

“He did some really messed up things, you know? And sometimes, it’s just really hard to write to him, to enjoy talking to him, when I know what he’s done! So the letters get more and more impersonal, and then I feel even worse for just forsaking my perfectly good father, but it’s not my fault I don’t want to be associated with some… some monster! ”

Starflight was startled by his own words. He’d never said it out loud before, and now that he had, the words suddenly gained new weight. He scrambled over his own words, trying to figure out what they really meant…

Moons above, do I hate him? Starflight couldn’t come up with an answer to his own question. Peril was there to interrupt him before he sat around ruminating his statement any longer.

“You… Okay, for one, I’d say ‘monster’ is a bit of a strong word, but it’s better than using ‘sociopath’ as a pejorative, so I can't really fight you on that one.” Peril paused for a moment before giving an actual response. “Wow, I am definitely being too forgiving with my dad.”

“...you’re dad’s Chameleon, right?” Starflight asked, failing not to sneer as he said his name. He’d never met the RainWing in person, but he’d heard an earful through Clay. He knew the basics, of course: shapeshifting through stolen magic, lying to Peril, maiming Kinkajou, triple agent, all that. Maybe something about not bothering to resist the animalistic urge to hoard gold all dragons possessed, but that was small fry compared to everything else.

Basically, he was a complete deadbeat, and the amount of forgiveness he deserved was exactly none. Of course, Starflight knew enough not to say that out loud.

“Yeah… Clay told you about him, didn’t he? Kinda sucks, but y’know, he’s still my dad. ” Peril said, “I just can’t bring myself to hate the guy. Like, I know where he’s coming from! He was kicked out of the rainforest because of his scales being different, he has no friends or family, and he got stuck with Scarlet. I’m not some hypocrite, I just can’t turn tail and forget about that!”

Peril snorted, audibly lashing her tail. Starflight could smell smoke rising from her scales, signalling an increase in temperature. He felt a twinge of sympathy–Peril’s firescales only increased in intensity like that when strong emotions took hold.

“And I know you’ve never met him, but I have, and when he doesn’t really have an ulterior motive going on, the guy is just kinda pathetic?” Peril chuckled ruefully before continuing, “Like I can’t even tell if he’s looking for sympathy or if he’s just that miserable. And it sucks, because sometimes he seems like he wants to be a family, and so do I, but he’s a slippery little bastard and lets other stuff get in the way! But he’s still my dad! My mom is dead, my brother is dead, everybody is dead and he’s all I have left.”

There was silence for a few moments, with neither of them knowing what to say next.

“Maybe you’re right, I should just leave it be.” Peril broke the silence with a broken voice. She choked back a sob before continuing, “Moons, you’d think I would have learned to stop trusting people by now.”

Wow, this just got even more depressing! Starflight wrung his paws together for a moment, directing his non-existent gaze towards the ground. Come on, Starflight, do something! Backpedal before you have an overly emotional firescales burning down your library!

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Starflight blurted out, “or maybe we’re both a little bit wrong and a little bit right. Like I’m too mad at my dad, and you feel too sorry for yours, and we should ideally be somewhere in the middle. You know?”

“...you-” Peril sniffled “-you really think so?” Her voice was unbearably watery, putting more pressure on Starflight.

“Y-yeah. I mean, there’s no easy solution, I guess…” he trailed off for a moment before finishing, “this sucks, for both of us. But there’s other things in our lives, you know? We don’t have to let it get to us.”

“Yeah!” Peril’s usual enthusiasm was coming back, albeit not in full force. “That’s really mature of you, Starflight. You’re good at talking about stuff.”

“You really think so?” The flattery made Starflight’s ears burn–he wasn’t used to praise, let alone from Peril of all dragons. “Um, thank you, I guess?”

Starflight let himself smile, doing his best to ‘look’ in Peril’s general direction. There wasn’t really a point to miming out eye contact like that, but the sense of normalcy was nice, and it helped Starflight practice his directional hearing. After four years, he’d gotten pretty good at it, and even managed to glare at Tsunami one time when she’d done something particularly rash.

Behind his grin, however, was a slight sense of unease. Despite what he said, the whole Mastermind situation still weighed on him. Based on the way Peril had brought up the topic in the first place, her own father was clearly bugging her as well. Maybe it was time to take his own advice and not worry about it for a while. There were other things in his life, after all.

Somehow, it seemed a little bit easier after saying it out loud.

“Good talk, good talk,” Peril concluded in a partial mumble, probably nodding her head. “Guess we both needed to vent a little, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Starflight said back, not sure what else to say. Before he could think up a proper response, he was interrupted yet again by a pair of dragons bursting through the door.

“We’re back~!” Fatespeaker exclaimed in a sing-song manner, prancing into the library and diving back to her spot by Starflight’s side. He relished the feeling of her fur and scales against his, letting an easier grin slip onto his face. “You guys have a good talk?”

“I guess, yeah,” Peril responded, her attention fleeting with Clay walking up to her. He evidently passed her whatever he’d caught, as she cherrily exclaimed, “Oh, that’s my favourite! I didn’t think you’d remember…”

“Of course I did,” Clay responded with what had to be a smile, making a slight thump as he sat down on the ground beside Peril. “What were you guys talking about, anyways?”

“Uhhhh none of your business!!!” Peril jumped in before Starflight could stammer out a response, “just some stuff we have in common, I mean. You two wouldn’t really get it.”

Starflight couldn’t see her face, but he could sense the hidden message Peril sent him lingering in her voice. This was a tender subject, something best kept under wraps. Starflight gave a curt nod in response, before leaning back into Fatespeaker’s side and letting the hum of conversation surround him again.

It was a lot like before, but without the lingering tightness in his chest that had been bothering him previously.

Don’t worry about it for now, Starflight reassured himself, you’ll be alright. Just move on with your life and try to have a good time while you’re at it.

For once, it didn’t seem like too hard of a task.

Chameleon wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he decided to surrender himself to the RainWing kingdom. He certainly hadn't expected amnesty, so he didn't put up much of a fight when they arrested him and tossed him into a prison cell. It made sense: he had maimed that child, after all, and all the RainWings hated him. Everything else was either ambiguously legal or out of their jurisdiction, so at least he didn't have too much to worry about in the way of his sentencing. 

What he did have to worry about was the NightWing standing across from him muttering scientific jargon under his breath. 

“Chlorophyll,” he was saying, his voice barely raised above a whisper. He looked to be just a bit younger than Chameleon, albeit scrawny even for that age, with dark green eyes magnified by thick, rectangular glasses sitting on his snout. Evidently, he had been talking to himself, and whatever he'd been going on about made perfect sense to him.

But Chameleon had just woken up, and combining that with the slight high left over from the dart in his neck, he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

“What…?” Chameleon blinked a few times, not able to believe what he was seeing. The NightWing seemed more than happy to answer, although based on the tone of his response, it was clear he wasn't quite processing what was going on in front of him. 

“Oh, you know, with the potential display of photosensitive pigment, there’s room to hypothesise that photosynthesis may be the process involved in…” the NightWing trailed off mid-sentence, eyes widening as realisation dawned on him. “Shit, y-you're awake.”

“Yeah, I am,” Chameleon said plainly. He realised after saying it that it might have come off as a rude retort, but the NightWing didn't seem to pick up on it. “Who…?”

“Oh, well, I’m Mastermind,” he introduced himself, adjusting his glasses slightly. “And you are?”

Chameleon stopped for a moment, mouth frozen open, before closing it and looking towards the ground. Your name, he tried to coax himself, he wants to know your name.

His name. His stupid, hideous, moons forsaken name. The name that served as an ugly gash that reminded him of what he wasn’t, and an even crueller reminder of what he had become. Yet he couldn’t change it, couldn't leave that part of himself behind, because without it… he was just nothing. A traveller with no home to return to, a lump of clay that could never see a kiln. His name had been the only thing to keep him sane during his misadventures around the continent… but that still didn’t mean he was willing to tell this dragon his name.

Well, he could always lie to him. They’d just met, and it was apparent that Mastermind knew next to nothing about him. Chameleon had done that before: he’d told little white lies about his exact place of origin, and spun falsidical yarns of whole other identities with his shapes to support them. But the problem with lying, well…

That had gotten him here, hadn’t it?

Chameleon was reminded of the reason he’d come back here in the first place. Things had gotten bad, really bad, and he wanted nothing more than a second chance. But to try again, he needed to go back to where he came from, where everything went wrong. So he was back in the Rainforest Kingdom where he’d been hatched and banished, wearing the scales he’d always had. If he really wanted to start over… there was no point in lying about it anymore.

“My name is Chameleon,” he finally said after about a minute, only making eye contact after he’d finished speaking. He noticed a very particular look on Mastermind’s face, and without thinking, hissed back a response– “Yes, it’s a stupid name. Trust me, I know .”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, if I were you,” Mastermind said dismissively, his expression softening. That was odd–this was the part where most dragons either snarled back at him or chided him for being ‘nasty’ or ‘difficult’. This dragon, however, didn’t seem to care at all. “I’m a NightWing, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, so believe me when I say I’ve seen worse. Both in irony and aethstetics.” Mastermind paused for a moment, shaking his head before adding, “So, so much worse. …Still a bit unfortunate, though. I can see where you’re coming from.”

“Gee, thanks,” Chameleon snarked, but it seemed Mastermind either didn’t care or didn’t notice. He softened his tone before asking, “Hey, do you know what’s going on at all, or…?”

“Oh, I’m not quite sure, I’m afraid,” Mastermind said, shaking his head. Being a NightWing, he had purplish fur where most dragons had their underscales, forming a sort of beard on his chin. His pelt was a bit messy, but also looked incredibly soft. “It looks like they’ve just thrown you in here, but I’m not sure if it’s a temporary arrangement or a permanent thing. …although if it was something specific, I’d imagine they’d have said something about it by now. Anyways, it looks like we’ll be cellmates for the time being.”

Chameleon nodded, muttering a quiet ‘yeah’ under his breath. He padded off to the other side of the cell, facing away from him, but he still glanced at Mastermind through his peripheral vision. He had gone over and curled up on a cot Chameleon hadn’t noticed there before, although he didn’t seem interested in sleeping. Instead, Mastermind was picking at the edge of the mattress, tail lashing idly as he did so.

It was funny, in a cosmic sort of way–the first dragon to show any kind of kindness to Chameleon in three whole years was a fellow inmate, locked up after committing some heinous crime. The name rang a bell, and Chameleon was pretty sure he’d done something awful, but he certainly couldn’t remember what. Normally this was where he would examine his companion, figure out his motives and how to get what he wanted out of the situation. But, for whatever reason, Chameleon just didn’t feel the need to do that here.

Mastermind just seemed… nice. He was a bit of a dork, and maybe a little bit out of touch, but it certainly didn’t hinder his kindness. It was a bit early to say anything for sure, of course, but still… Chameleon had been on his own pretty much all his life. Nobody wanted to be friends with the green-scaled loner back when he was a dragonet, and nobody wanted anything to do with the suspiciously alien con man coasting through town as an adult. But he was trying to start over, and this was his chance, wasn’t it? A friend was always a nice thing to have.

Still, if he wanted to befriend this strange new dragon, he had to open up first. Mastermind needed to know about Chameleon just as much as Chameleon needed to know about him. For one, he needed to make sure he wasn’t a complete maniac–it would be pretty damn irritating to spend three years befriending a guy only to find out he was a cannibalistic serial killer, after all. And secondly… communication was a two way street, and Chameleon knew damn well how bad that could go if you messed it up.

So, Chameleon sat himself against the wall, looked over at Mastermind, and asked the dreaded question. When it came to prison acquaintances, it always happened sooner or later. It was an important question to ask–you learned a lot about their past, their motives, and got to make a half-assed moral appraisal while you were at it.

“So, Mastermind,” Chameleon began, wanting to get Mastermind’s attention before asking, “...what are you in for?”

Chapter Text

Chameleon woke up with his usual snort, awkwardly standing up as he attempted to regain his breath. All in all, he’d actually gotten a pretty good sleep–one consecutive hour wasn’t a lot, sure, but it was enough to at least feel like he’d slept through the night.

Looking across the prison cell, Chameleon was reminded of the… interesting conversation he’d had the previous day. He had gathered enough information to put together a short profile for the NightWing across from him, at least. 

Mastermind of the NightWings, imprisoned for seventeen counts each of scientific malpractice and unethical experimentation on a living subject, three counts of manslaughter, and one count of conspiracy. He was able to repeat his sentence verbatim, but didn’t seem too keen on explaining what, exactly, he had done. Already rotted away in prison for a little over four years, but only two of them had been in this complex. He hadn’t mentioned that exact length of his sentence, other than that it’d been reduced after trial.

However shaky some of the details might have been, it was definitely better than what Chameleon had told him in response. His ultimate response had been “I don’t know yet”, although he did pepper in the details of “injured some kid pretty badly in the heat of the moment,” and “some stuff with animus magic; not an animus, though,”. He had only felt the need to throw in that specification after noticing Mastermind freeze up at the mention of it.

At some point, Mastermind noticed Chameleon looking his way, and turned around to greet him.

“Chameleon! You’re awake,” he said, smiling, putting down whatever it was he was doing. “I’ve actually been awake for about an hour now, your snoring woke me up.”

Chameleon held his tongue for a moment, not knowing if Mastermind was being passive aggressive or just didn’t know how to hold a conversation quite right. Based on what he’d seen so far, things could go either way.

Be nice to him, Chameleon reminded himself, exhaling. He’d made a little promise to himself the previous night, and he wasn’t going to break it on the first day. It’s just one dragon. All you have to do is be nice to one dragon for at least a week. You don’t have to be a saint or anything, just a decent excuse for a dragon.

“Sorry, I guess, but it’s not like I can do anything about it,” Chameleon said in compromise to himself, “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“...I-I wasn’t complaining, so don’t worry about it,” Mastermind replied, a little confused. “Erm… did you sleep well?”

“‘Bout as good as I can, I guess,” Chameleon said with a shrug. He had been sleeping deep enough to dream, at least, but he couldn’t remember what it was about other than a vague sense of unease. He looked around the cell, searching for something else to catch his attention. He found it in a pile of parchment sitting in the corner of the room. “...what’s with all those scrolls over there?”

“Oh, those are just letters from my son,” Mastermind said, looking over at the pile as he addressed it. His expression saddened, however, the longer he looked at it. “The guards let me keep them around.”

Chameleon swallowed, not sure how to deal with the situation. He knew how to navigate a conversation, but at the same time, he’d never gotten good at it on anything past a superficial level. He didn’t really know what made a dragon tick, but he did know the best way to get somebody to stop crying– a distraction.

“You have a son?” Chameleon asked and–okay, maybe it wasn’t a complete change of subject, but he wasn’t trying to be too obvious with the redirect. It was more like carrying on the conversation, and… it was too late to change what he said anyways.

“Y-yes, I do,” Mastermind replied, looking back up at Chameleon. “His name is Starflight.”

“Oh, one of those Dragonet Prophecy kids?”  Chameleon said it like a question, but he wasn’t really asking anything he didn’t already know. He had intercepted the Talons of Peace, for crying out loud.

“Yes, he is. I’m quite proud of him, really.” Mastermind said before stopping to sniffle and wipe tears from his eyes. “I-I-I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“No, don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” Chameleon muttered as he took a step towards him, tentatively placing a talon on his shoulder. Mastermind looked up at him immediately, dark green eyes wide and watery and looking right at him. Chameleon felt his face flush and pulled his talon away. “I understand. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“...you have any family out there?” Mastermind asked, trying to regain his composure.

“I guess I have a daughter, yeah.” Chameleon nodded, trying to hide how he was racked by guilt. “She’s a nice enough kid, reminds me of a younger version of myself. Shame I messed things up as bad as I did, but it is what it is, I guess.”

That was a massive understatement, but Chameleon wasn’t in the business of spilling his guts out to random dragons he’d just met. If they ever really got to know each other, he could tell him then.

Although the conversation fizzled out, the two remained standing close to each other. Chameleon took the moment to observe the dragon across from him, more clearly now that the blow dart was out of his system.

Mastermind had dark, purplish black scales, although they tended towards indigo in colour. In place of the underscales of other dragon tribes, he had that indigo fur, a shock against the dark colours of the rest of him. It looked soft, albeit slightly grimey, and fluffed out the NightWing’s otherwise scrawny frame.

He had a certain something to him, that was for sure. A particular light behind his green eyes, an edge to his smile. He was certainly… interesting, was a nice way to put it. Still, he still caught his eye, and–

How desperate am I? Chameleon thought back at himself, biting his tongue. He’s some random NightWing I’ve barely, convicted of MANSLAUGHTER for crying out loud, could be a violent criminal– He stopped himself from thinking about it further. Not directly, at least. Then again, I’m not much better, am I?

Chameleon sighed, briefly looking back up at Mastermind to address him.

“You know what…?” Chameleon shook his head before starting again. “Nevermind. Good talk, I’m going to curl up in the corner and die for a few minutes.”

Chameleon stomped away to the corner, curling up in a ball with his face to the wall, so he couldn’t see Mastermind’s face when he replied.

“Just for a few minutes, right?” he asked meekly, his voice barely raised above a whisper.

“A few minutes, yeah,” Chameleon confirmed, closing his eyes as he settled into his spot on the floor. “Don’t worry about me, Mastermind, I’m not going anywhere.”

Peril sighed, letting her eyes remain closed as she slowly woke up. There was a dull ache in her back from the hardness of the stone floor underneath her, and Peril knew she would have to get up sooner or later. It was Thursday morning, and although yesterday’s talk with Starflight had helped her feel better, thoughts of her father still weighed on her mind.

They crushed her down more than sleep itself, the lack of closure making way for a spiral to form. Peril turned over, hearing her large orange wings flop on the ground in a new, splayed out position. She grimaced, clutching a talon into a fist. No matter what she did, the same few thoughts flooded her mind again and again and again…

Peril was interrupted by the sound of quiet pawsteps heading into the room, before stopping and sitting down with a muffled thump a few feet away from Peril. She blinked open her eyes, and they widened as she processed the dragon sitting across from her.

“Hey,” Fatespeaker said with a smile, although her eyebrows were downturned with worry. The torrent of purple fur that peeked out from under her scales pooled under her as she sat like a loaf on the ground, talons calmly folded together. “You overslept, Starflight told me to come wake you up.”

“Oh. Is he not feeling well or something?” Peril asked, shifting up from the way she was splayed out on the ground into a proper sit. Normally, if Peril was late for her job when he needed her, Starflight would come and yell at her to get up himself. Fatespeaker’s presence was both favourable and unusual.

“Nah, but… I just got the idea something was bothering you from the way he grumbled about it, is all.” As she woke up a bit more, Peril noticed Fatespeaker’s tone was decidedly softer than usual. “You seemed a bit off yesterday. What’s eating you?”

It took Peril a moment to process the question, but she got it eventually. Fatespeaker wanted to know what was bothering her.

“I've been thinking about my dad again,” Peril admitted, looking down at her front talons before meeting Fatespeaker’s gaze. The look in her purple eyes hadn’t changed, and so she continued on. “I don’t know, he kinda sucks, and I talked with Starflight the other day and that helped me get over it for a while, but…”

Peril sighed, not sure how to get out all the words in her head. They made up a very particular feeling, but she wasn’t quite sure how to get it off her chest. She could try, though

“I just feel like if it keeps bothering me, and I don’t get some kind of closure, everything’s going to boil over and I’ll freak out and I’ll do something I regret!” Peril managed, roaring just a bit. “Ugh… talking about it helps a little bit, but I’m only delaying the inevitable here.”

Peril kept the part about actually wanting her dad back to herself, but somehow, she felt like Fatespeaker knew that part, too. Her purple eyes filled with knowing, and Peril knew that she knew, you know? Somebody had said something about her being an empath or something like that…

“Sorry, yeah, I’ve been practicing and I’m better at the whole mind reading thing now? Not perfect, and it’s a tad unconventional, but…” Fatespeaker shook her head. “Sorry, I got sidetracked. Anyways, I know what you mean.”

Fatespeaker got a particular look on her face at that last part.

“You do, don’t you?” Peril whispered, her own worries briefly traded away for somebody else’s.

“Yeah… you know, I managed to find out some stuff about my parents. All I got was a couple of names and a couple of death certificates, though,” Fatespeaker said, her tone suddenly much more somber. “It kinda drives me crazy knowing I don’t know what kind of dragons my own parents are! I can see how that bothers you with your dad and all that…”

There was a moment of silence. A shared, solemn understanding of such a rare (yet so, so common) issue. Then Fatespeaker broke it, her head shooting back up and a smile spread across her snout.

“Oh! I know what you can do to find some stuff out about your dad!” Fatespeaker clasped her talons together and smiled, throwing her worries away (for now). “So there’s this funny new thing called a telephone, right? Well, Starflight got one installed to keep in touch with Glory! Maybe you could ask somebody to phone her for you and ask about your dad!”

A few key phrases stuck out in that jumble of words. One was ‘telephone’– Peril had seen the funny little box from the distance, and aside from Starflight’s vague rambling as it was installed, had no idea what it did. Contact people through some mysterious ‘calling’ process? The other two were ‘ask someone’ and ‘phone Glory’ . Those had some… interesting implications.

The first was that she would need to get help if she ever wanted some kind of closure. That would probably mean spilling her guts out to another dragon yet again, which Peril wasn’t exactly looking forward to. But it had gone well enough the last few times, and… Glory knew her stuff. She was a bit standoffish, and Peril was about 87% sure she still didn’t like her, but if there was anybody to ask about Chameleon… it was probably Glory.

“Yeah, that seems like a good idea… I’ll ask Clay to give her a call for me, and see how it goes.” Peril yawned, becoming aware of an itching, acidic emptiness in her gut. “Wow, I’m hungry. I should go get something to eat, huh?”

Fatespeaker nodded, and the two dragonesses headed out into the hall. Peril felt a lot lighter as she walked, knowing that maybe, just maybe, she could put this whole mess behind her.

It was later that same day in the Rainforest Kingdom Prison Complex, and the previous embarrassment had pretty much been forgotten. Mastermind and Chameleon were holed up in their respective corners, not talking, but not too scared to make eye contact. For now, Chameleon was contently lying with his tail to his snout. His eyes were heavy, signalling midday was near, and he was trying to get the little sleep he could.

Chameleon was jolted awake by the sound of a cell door rattling, and the feeling of somebody breathing down his neck. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a NightWing guard standing in the doorway. Chameleon turned around to face him, wings half-flared and frills pressed out. He didn’t snarl, although his snout was always scrunched up in a way that gave the impression of one.

“It’s noon,” the guard said plainly, his eyes dull and corners of mouth downturned. “Suntime? You want to eat, don’t you?”

“I- I can’t.” Chameleon was too taken aback to explain himself properly. “I’m not like that, I can’t sleep for long enough, I’d just starve…”

“Sure you can. You’re a RainWing , that’s how they work.” The guard grumbled, subtly brandishing his spear. Chameleon huffed, but not without folding his wings back in. “Besides, it’s the law. Now stop being so difficult and step out of the cell. Wings folded–you’re at spearpoint, don’t forget it.”

Chameleon sighed, not wanting the gleaming metal point anywhere near his throat. He followed the guard as he lumbered out the door, locking it behind them. Before they left, the guard shot Mastermind a sour look, and said:

“Don’t try anything.”

Mastermind winced and curled up more intently into his corner, not giving either the guard or Chameleon another glance. His only words were a barely audible murmur.

“I won’t, Darkfall.”

“Good,” Darkfall snarled, before whipping back around and beginning to walk down the hall. “Come on, RainWing , we have places to be.”

There was a fierce distaste in his voice when he mentioned the tribe by name. Chameleon knew that bitterness firsthand, but couldn’t help his eyes from hardening at Darkfall’s use of it. He had no personal qualms with the tribe, as far as Chameleon knew. Maybe he was upset over being ruled by a RainWing rather than a NightWing queen? Chameleon huffed at the mere idea of that complaint.

A queen is a queen, Chameleon thought ruefully, a dictator is a dictator. Nothing worth being so bitter about.

Then again, considering how many grudges he carried, Chameleon couldn’t help but think the thought was a touch hypocritical. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

In the time Chameleon had mulled over that statement, Darkfall had led him to a roofless room with moss growing over the stone brick walls. It was floored with grass instead of cobblestone, and there was a mat laid on the ground with a shackle next to it.

Ah, Chameleon thought to himself as Darkfall not-so-subtly nudged him into the room, they expect me to sleep here.

“I already told you, this isn’t going to work,” Chameleon grumbled, although he still sat down on the mat like he was told. He even lied still as his tail (his tail , of all things, just above the frills to make it harder to pull out) was put into the shackle, although he still growled when the guard came too close to his face.

“Stop complaining,” Darkfall snarled before walking away, leaning against the wall. He huffed before adding, “I don’t like this either, but it’s my job , and it’s hard to find any other employment down here. Suck it up and lay down for a minute. You’ll live.”

Chameleon scoffed before laying his head down. His stomach growled, and hunger was already starting to make him feel sick. Tears welled in his eyes, and he covered his face with his talons so Darkfall couldn’t see it.

The truth of the matter was, he’d been there before. It was something Chameleon had been used to, really, but that was so long ago, back when he was a dragonet… he’d forgotten what that passive, willful ignorance and neglect had been like. Now he remembered it, whether he liked it or not.

Four and a half decades ago, give or take. Memories displaced in time, but still remembered nonetheless.

“I’m so hungry,” he whined. It was annoying, sure, but he couldn’t have been older than five. For a toddler, it was the best he could explain the roaring, growling, nauseating pit in his stomach. “Why can’t I just eat something?”

“Ugh, just get back to sleep, okay?” said one of the dragons who was supposed to be taking care of him. A RainWing never appreciated having their suntime interrupted, after all. “The sun will fill you up in no time, just like the rest of us.”

That was a lie, not when he couldn’t sleep like the rest of them. It didn’t, and it never did, and the little dragonet’s ribs would show in a place where there was food all around him. He was only a child, a bit behind for his age at that, and he would continue to starve until he learned to feed himself. Not like the dragons around him would understand.

Memories of his dragonethood holding him in a chokehold, Chameleon fell into a fitful sleep. His breaths were ragged, and he could only doze off for thirty minutes at the most. The little sun he could absorb dullened the ache of hunger, but never cast it away entirely. It was like feeding a starved animal uncooked corn–food, sure, but not much they could digest.

The only thing stopping him from crying was the captive audience, there to ensure he didn’t try to fly away. Darkfall snarled, and all Chameleon could do was close his eyes and try to forget.

With students breaking for lunch, and a pile of tests to grade, Clay was left alone in his classroom for the time being. He was seated at his desk, going through the pile of papers in a trance. He would pick one up, mark through the right and wrong answers with an ink-dipped talon, and then move it into the other wire basket of papers he needed to hand back. Over and over, until he wasn’t thinking of anything but the papers in his talons. It was nice, really.

Clay was pretty solidly zoned in on the papers, to the extent that when Peril came strolling into the room, he wouldn’t have noticed her if it wasn’t for the heat radiating off of her scales. Even then, it took him a moment.

“Oh! Peril! Hi, I didn’t notice you there,” he greeted her once he finally noticed her presence, looking up from the paperwork to make eye contact. She stared right back at him with two glittering eyes of soul-piercing sapphire. They were a bit devoid of their usual zeal, however, with dark circles underneath. Peril managed a smile, but it had a distinctive weakness to it. “Um… do you need something?”

Peril’s face lit back up, just a little bit, as she noticed Clay’s ink-dipped talon.

“Stupid question, but why don’t you just use a pen?” Peril asked, pointing to his talon and the smudged ink on the desk. “It’s a lot less messy, and it keeps the ink off your talons.”

“That’s a great question, actually,” Clay responded with an easy smile, “it helps me to have it on my talons so I don’t forget what I was doing if I get up to do something else. I’ve been a lot more on-task this way.”

“Oh! That’s a neat trick, I guess.” Peril nodded, her expression falling again a few moments later. “Um, right, I came here to ask you about something…”

“Ask away,” Clay said before going back to absent-mindedly grading papers. He was still listening, of course. A dragon could multitask, after all.

“...so you’re in contact with Glory, right?” Peril asked, immediately bringing Clay’s full attention back up to her. That… wasn’t what he expected. He just started up at her for a moment, face blank. “On that telephone thing?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I am,” Clay nodded after a moment, still processing the question. “Um, what do you need from Glory?”

Peril’s face went a bit red, and her ears pinned back. She immediately turned away, only making eye contact through an aside glance.

“Uh, well… I was wondering if she knew anything about where my dad is?” Peril winced as the words came out of her mouth. “‘Cuz, you know, he’s a wanted criminal, and also a RainWing, so if anybody would have tabs on him…” Peril trailed off before she could finish.

Clay sat there, paralyzed in thought. Peril wanted to know where her father was. Her father Chameleon, who had lied to her face, cast a spell on her with ulterior motives, and helped lure her back to Scarlet’s grasp. Her father Chameleon who had at least four different ‘shapes’ to hide away as, assisted in the kidnapping and (bizarre) imprisonment of an IceWing prince, and had maimed one of his former students. That guy.

“Peril… are you sure that’s a good idea?” Clay asked, his voice low. His talon clenched into a fist and Clay’s heart felt like it was being crushed into a pulp. “I’ve heard what you said about him, and I just…”

“I’m a grown adult! I can make my own decisions!” Peril snapped, a brief flicker of flame radiating from her scales. She must’ve surprised Clay, or something like that, and her face (and scales) immediately fell. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“No, I get it,” Clay said, guilt overriding his fear. “I just don’t want you getting hurt…”

The part Clay didn’t say was about how, being unable to reach him, Peril was already hurting. He knew how that felt, being stuck at that ultimatum between heartbreak and a lack of closure. Cattail, Asha, Sora, Umber … Clay swallowed as Peril readied a response.

“I know… but I know what I’m doing,” she muttered, “if he tries anything, I won’t fall for it this time.”

“I’ll phone Glory, and I’ll ask her what she knows,” Clay confirmed. He looked up at Peril, but she wasn’t looking back. “...it’s not your fault. Scarlet was lying to you; if I were you, I’m sure I’d have fallen for it too.”

“Really?” Peril whispered as she looked back up, blue eyes glassy with tears. Her snout spread into a toothy grin, and her ears perked back up. “You’ll really call her? Thank you, thank you, thank you! I won’t let you down, I promise!”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Clay said, a faint growl in his stomach prompting him to get up from his desk. He wasn’t completely sure if Peril had caught that second part, but that was okay. He was more than willing to reassure her, again and again, as long as he could see her smile like this. “I’ve got to go get something to eat. Do you want to come with me?”

“Sounds great!” Peril chirped, falling into place right by his side. She kept on smiling as they walked out, looking at Clay with stars in her eyes. She just seemed so happy–moons above that felt good to see–and that was enough to make Clay happy too.

Clay decided, right then and there, that if something happened, he would be there for her. Peril had gotten through worse, and if things went awry here… he’d make sure she’d come back from this too. They were going to be alright, the both of them.

Mastermind sat in his cell, alone, picking at his food. Every part of  him, from his wingtips to his claws, was burdened by lethargy. There was nothing wrong with him, per se, but he felt weighed down nonetheless. If not physically ailed, then emotionally.

There was a certain familiarity when it came to Darkfall’s actions. They were something Mastermind had seen before, in dragons he knew (did he know himself?) and ones he didn’t. Either way, it made his insides squirm.

A few moments later, Mastermind was brought out of his dejected trance. His attention was piqued by the rattling of the cell door–open and closed–and the scrabble of claws against the cobblestone–not a thud, like last time. He turned his head around, seeing the tail end of a conversation.

“Ungrateful lizard,” Darkfall grumbled, “stop arguing and learn your place.”

He stormed away, leaving Chameleon in his wake. The green dragon tried to stay still, but he shook like a leaf, and tears welled in his eyes. He managed eye contact for a few moments, eyes blazing, before swiftly turning away.

“C-Chameleon?” Mastermind whispered, his voice as unsteady as the dragon across from him. “I, erm, it’s just… are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine. Great, actually!” Chameleon snapped, bearing his fangs as he spoke. “This son of a bitch didn’t get the memo, and so I had to sit around for four moons-forsaken hours under a useless sun instead of getting to eat anything. So now I’m going to starve here all over again!”

Mastermind was taken aback for a moment, ears pinned down and tail wrapped around himself. Then he saw the tears running down Chameleon’s face… a pang of guilt rang through his chest, and fear turned to rage in an instant.

“That… that imperious bastard!” Mastermind exclaimed, sputtering only a little. “Moons save me, he’s just as bad as I was!”

That last sentence stumbled out of Mastermind’s mouth before he could stop it. Immediately Chameleon’s ears pricked up in interest, his tears all but forgotten. Mastermind’s were pinned down in shame.

“You never did mention what put you in here,” Chameleon said, voice still a bit watery. There was a particular edge to it… prying for more information, perhaps.

“Don’t worry about it for now, I just…” Mastermind sighed, putting a talon to his forehead. After a moment, he looked across at Chameleon, and slid the tray that contained the remains of his lunch towards him. “Here, take what’s left of mine. I’m not really hungry.”

“Really?” Chameleon asked, eyes wide. Mastermind nodded, and without another word, Chameleon began to scarf up the food. Whatever it was, it was gone in a matter of minutes. A moment of silence, and then… “Thank you.”

Mastermind smiled, his insides warm and fuzzy. Whatever this feeling was, it was certainly pleasant, and he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Atonement, true companionship, the satisfaction of doing the right thing, or some combination thereof.

Whatever it was, this dragon somehow helped to bring it, and it was more than worth it.

“Anytime,” Mastermind muttered back, his smile not waning, even if it held some degree of sadness. He just looked at Chameleon, and kept smiling, and he managed the same.

Maybe, just maybe, these remaining years of his imprisonment wouldn’t be so bad.

Chapter Text

Clay stopped in the doorway to Peril’s sleeping cave, unable to push himself any further. He sighed, peering in the half open doorway. Peril was there, sitting peacefully on the floor, fiddling with a textured chunk of rock she liked. She hadn’t noticed him yet, too transfixed with the thing in her talons.

Okay, Clay, you can do this, he tried to reassure himself, but his talon still shook as he went to knock on the door. Peril looked up at the noise, but with the time it took her to put down the rock, it’d still be a minute. All Clay could do was sit there, waiting, the previous conversation with Glory running through his head.

Clay stood beside the wire-filled wooden box, earpiece to his ear, and mouthpiece resting on the wooden stand. This whole electricity thing was new, and weird, but having light bulbs instead of torches for the school was a lot less of a safety risk, so he’d take it any day. The telephone was definitely a nice bonus, too. It took a few rings for Glory to pick up, but eventually, she did.

“This is her majesty Queen Glory of the Rain- and NightWings, don’t forget it. Who is this?” Her voice was fizzy and decidedly different over the line, but Clay could still recognise his honorary sister’s voice.

“Glory? It’s me, Clay,” he picked up the mouthpiece and spoke into it, desperately hoping he wasn’t being too loud. Or too quiet. Or any other way he could mess this up.  “Sorry, I know I haven’t called in a bit, this whole ‘telephone’ thing is… um… weird.”

“Ha! Yeah, it kinda is.” Glory dropped whatever authoritative tone she was using before, her smile present over the wire. “How’ve you been doing lately?”

They caught each other up on their lives, but eventually, the conversation dried up enough for them to get to the point of the call.

“Yeah, Peril was asking me about it… do you know where Chameleon is?” Clay asked, dreading the words both before and after they left his mouth. Yet, for some reason, he kept on talking. “I, um… yeah, she wanted to know, and we haven’t exactly figured out how to fireproof this thing…”

There was a moment of dead air, then a response.

“Yeah, funny you mention it, actually,” Glory said in a very… particular tone of voice. “Chameleon, you said? Yeah, the guy’s been in prison here since yesterday.”

“Oh! That’s, uh, interesting timing, I guess?”

“I know, right?”

They continued to talk, sharing opinions and important details and–

Clay was brought back into the moment by Peril finally opening the door, greeting him with a tentative smile.

“Clay! Hey, how’re you doing?” She was trying to be cheerful, but… There was a certain lack of her usual zeal that keyed Clay into it. She was just as anxious to hear back from Glory as he was to tell her.

Might as well get it over with, he thought with a sigh, only managing a smile for about half a second.

“...I heard back from Glory,” Clay told her. He didn’t need to tell her what he’d heard about.

“Oh! Um… you wanna come in and talk about it?” Peril asked, taking a step aside. Clay nodded and walked into the cave without another word.

It was an empty, carved out cave, with vague impressions of furniture carved out of rock. There was a ledge with a slight dip in it for a bed, several stone shelves on the walls for storage, and a taller box jutting out from the wall as a desk. There were a few trinkets here and there, but most of them were equally grey– rock was the number one non-flammable thing, after all. It was kind of depressing, to be honest. Clay took a few steps in before sitting down on the floor against the only completely blank wall.

He sighed, staring off into space for a moment as Peril sat down beside him. He shot her a glance, looked away again, and tore the bandage off.

“Chameleon’s in prison.”

“Oh.”

“He’s been there since yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“...You probably won’t be able to see him anytime soon.”

“Oh…” Peril was silent, completely silent, and her face was nearly blank. Her jaw clenched, and she looked down at the floor.

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me, I–” Clay was interrupted before he could finish.

“Clay, why would I be mad at you? ” Peril exclaimed, jumping up onto her feet and flaring her wings. A few blue-tipped flames rose up from her scales. She growled before continuing. “It’s not your fault that stupid, pathetic, lying son of a bitch got himself caught and–”

“He turned himself in,” Clay blurted, and Peril was disarmed in an instant. “I don’t know why, but he did. He came back to the Rainforest and just let them arrest him. Didn’t even put up a fight.”

“He… he did?” Peril whispered, staring at Clay with watery eyes. He nodded, and within a moment, her face crumpled and she began to cry. Tears rolled down her face, filling with bubbles as they boiled before rapidly evaporating before they could reach her chin.

“Peril…” Clay muttered, wings falling to his sides. He looked over at her, not quite sure what to do with himself. “I’m sorry, I…”

“You big dummy, stop apologizing!” Peril managed through her tears, words accompanied by a smile. She sniffled before resetting her face and asking, “Can you just sit here with me for a little bit?”

Clay nodded, and soon enough, the two of them were cozied up by the wall in near silence. Peril leaned into Clay a little bit, and after a brief jolt, the heat from her scales settled into a manageable simmer. Clay was glad she’d chosen his right side to lean on–for whatever reason, it was a considerable amount more fireproof than the other. Then again, she did tend to favour it, so maybe his scales gained heat resistance with exposure? The membrane of most dragons’ wings were covered in tiny scales, so Clay’s wings themselves were fireproof too. Still, they stung a lot more than everything else when Peril brushed against them. Clay made a mental note to figure out why later, but the whole exposure thing definitely seemed likely…

He was dragged out of his posturing by Peril yet again, this time the sound of her voice. It was low, and shaky, but still undeniably hers.

“Turned himself in… what’d you think that means?” she asked, half to him and half to himself. “Do you think he wants to start over and try again?”

“I mean, yeah,” Clay responded, “like if I ever messed up horribly somehow I would go to, like, one of three places in the Mud Kingdom and just start over.”

“Ignoring how you phrased that like you have an escape plan,” Peril began with a giggle, prompting Clay to laugh softly in return. (He did have one, just in case.) “Do you think… nah, it’s stupid…”

“Sure it’s not,” Clay said with a faint smile, putting a talon on Peril’s shoulder. Out of all of his appendages, his talons were definitely the most fireproof by now. It didn’t even burn. “What was it you were thinking?”

Peril sighed, staring at the ground in silence for a moment before looking back up at him.

“Do you think he might change? For the better, just a little bit?” Peril whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she spoke. Clay felt a pit of dread form in his stomach. He… wasn’t sure he would.

Okay, Clay, let’s look at your options here, he thought at himself, trying to mask the expression crawling onto his face. You can lie to her, tell her how you really feel, or try to be optimistic about this. What’ll it be?

Okay, those were… options. Option one, lying. That was probably a bad idea. Clay already knew Peril didn’t like being lied to, and if he set her hopes too high… Okay, option two. Telling her what he felt, his gut instinct. Problem was, his thoughts on the matter were along the lines of ‘Chameleon sounds like a total douchebag, like Scarlet levels of bad, he’s terrible and I don’t think he’ll ever be any better than he is.’ That was, for one, awfully pessimistic (who was he, Dune?) and two, definitely 100% going to make Peril break down crying and not talk to him for a week.

That brought him to the third option. Try to be optimistic about it. Well, dragons could change. Peril had changed! …although, she really did lean more into the side of ‘horribly misguided’. Clay sat there, racking his brain for examples… Children didn’t count because they were, most of the time, just living under a bad example. The RainWing queens before Glory? They weren’t really changing, just giving up a hollow title. Okay, but, um…

Clay had been wrong before. He was very good at being wrong. He thought of the NightWings being integrated into the Rainforest, and how they had managed to unlearn their past biases and live peacefully with the RainWings. Clay had met some of them, even the civilians could be nasty , but… they had changed, hadn’t they? 

“Maybe,” he finally said, “I mean, stranger things have happened. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Yeah, we’ll wait and see…” Peril trailed off before adding, “Clay? Thank you.”

Clay smiled, letting Peril lean a little further into his side.

“Anytime.”

It had only been a week since Mastermind’s cellmate arrived. It hadn't been easy, but at the very least, Mastermind was glad he wasn’t alone. It was funny– Mastermind was terrible at talking to dragons, always wanting to avoid them, but then he was without conversation and he was depressingly lonely. 

Anyways, it was a week since Chameleon had arrived, and Mastermind was already starting to consider him a friend.

It had been a week and he still hadn't told him why he was arrested in the first place. 

Mastermind already knew he was a coward. Scraping at talons, following orders to the letters, not bothering to stand against the grain unless somebody else told him to. It had kept him alive then, and it was keeping his secrets in place now. But cowardice didn’t last forever, and it was bound to come out eventually.

It was late afternoon, and Chameleon had just finished eating what Mastermind had left for him. It was far from an ideal situation, both of them getting just short of what they needed, but it was better than the alternative. They hadn’t been making eye contact, not even when Chameleon began to talk from across the cell.

“You never did tell me what you did to get put in here,” he said plainly, gaze flitting up towards Mastermind. “And I'm not just talking about your charges.”

“...I suppose I haven’t,” Mastermind murmured, aware of green eyes searching for his but not looking up to meet them. “You want to know, don’t you?”

“It’s only fair,” Chameleon shrugged. “I told you mine loud and clear… But manslaughter is vague. You kill somebody, or’d you just let it happen?”

Mastermind’s jaw clenched. He has two options here, and both of them were far from ideal. Option one, he stood his ground and refused to tell him. That could sour Chameleon’s opinion, make him suspicious, maybe even accusing Mastermind of worse than he’d done. Option two was to tell him, and admit that he’d thrown ethics aside to perform an experiment on the very tribe Chameleon hailed from. They both put Mastermind at risk of losing the closest thing to a friend he’d had in years.

I'm a terrible liar, he thought ruefully, might as well go with the truth. It's easier that way.

Mastermind took a deep, shuddering breath, looked at the dragon across from him, and confessed.

“It wasn’t just me, for one. Everybody else involved died on the way out, and so somebody had to take the fall.” Mastermind chuckled darkly. “I still had my part, though. No denying that.

“It was an experiment on RainWing venom. Orders from the top. We were looking to annex the Rainforest at the time. Our home was a death trap, and we figured they’d be just as vicious as we were. That in itself wasn’t really the problem, but…

“We kidnapped our prisoners. Kept them in cages like animals. Less than dragons. Those three I was charged with, they died in captivity. Just because they were RainWings…” Mastermind’s voice broke, and tears welled in his eyes. “RainWings like you. ”

RainWings like Chameleon, who would talk to him more willingly than most of his peers. RainWings like Chameleon, who could spit out a joke that made him laugh until his sides hurt, even if it was a bit vulgar. Like Chameleon, who was quick witted and sharp tongued even for his grumbling. Like Chameleon, who he was willing to starve for if it meant they both got to eat something .

Mastermind wished he could say that part out loud, but he couldn’t. He just stood there and stammered, shame and regret keeping him in his place. Chameleon stood across from him, silent, just blinking at him.

“I… you think I’m a RainWing?” he echoed, as if that was the most unbelievable or abhorrent thing Mastermind had said. After a moment, he shook his head, freeing himself from the stunned expression. “Fuck, I mean…”

“I don’t know how I could ever be so stupid, ” Mastermind mumbled, unable to see with tears blurring his vision. Now he’d done it– Chameleon probably hated him, and they’d spend the rest of their time together glaring from across the cell. “I’m sorry…”

“Mastermind… I’m really not one to judge, okay?” The words were a shock to hear, and he found himself looking up at Chameleon. He was standing closer to him than he first thought, and Mastermind’s ears burned. “It might not be the stuff I’m in for, but I can promise you, you’re not the only one who fucked up like that.

“And even if you were!” Chameleon added, “even if you were, I wouldn’t really care either way. So you can stop crying, it’s not like I hate you or anything. That’s just not fair.”

“Crying?” Mastermind said out loud, a paw instinctually reaching up to his face. Sure enough, tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his face and soaking his fur. “Ugh, moons above, now I’m crying over nothing like an idiot…”

“Hey, no, don’t worry about it,” Chameleon said, scrambling to come up with something to say. “I don’t care, alright? It’s fine.”

The comfort was attempted, sure, but it didn’t land. Mastermind couldn’t help but feel bad for making such a fuss. He just covered his face in his paws, only looking up when he noticed Chameleon’s tail vaguely encircling his form. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, finally making eye contact.

“And I don’t care,” Chameleon retorted, “So what if we messed up? … You know the one good thing about rock bottom, Mastermind?”

Chameleon paused, a grin attacking his face before he answered his own question.

“Things can only go up from here.”

It was a Saturday, and with little work to be done around the academy, Fatespeaker was left with plenty of time on her paws. She normally would have gone on a walk, but winter was at its coldest point, and only an IceWing would enjoy the frigid breeze. She had been meaning to check up on him anyways, so instead, she was paying Starflight a visit.

“Hey, Star?” Fatespeaker called, looming in the library entrance. Starflight’s head instinctively turned in her direction, abandoning the braille scroll he was reading. “...can we talk?”

“Yeah,” Starflight said, nodding. Fatespeaker paced up to him, taking a seat beside his desk. “What is this about?”

“...you’ve been thinking about your dad lately, right?” The moment she asked, Starflight stiffened up. Fatespeaker frowned. “Um… do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Starflight said, his voice noticeably off key. He hugged his wings to his sides, picking at his blindfold. “Well… I don’t know?”

Fatespeaker could feel the anxiety coming off of Starflight in waves. It was almost as bad as when they first met, now that she knew what it was. It was funny– Fatespeaker always used to convince herself she was a prophet, just to cope, but she turned out to be a better mind reader (well, empath) than anything. The dreams about long-lost brothers and falling bookshelves were probably meaningless…

Despite saying he didn’t want to talk about it, Starflight, after a moment of consideration, began to explain his side of the situation.

“It’s complicated, with my dad… it’s a messy situation and I don’t know how to feel about it!” He exclaimed, punctuating his words with a flare of the wings. “I talked about it with Peril the other day, and that helped a bit…”

“Yeah,” Fatespeaker said, nodding, “well, if you want to talk about it some more, I’m always here.”

“Mhmm…” Starflight said, only to turn away. He was deep in thought, and with their physical and emotional closeness… Fatespeaker was able to catch some of it.

“You’re not being selfish,” she said, causing Starflight to jerk up in his seat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you…”

“You don’t think so?” Starflight asked, sounding far away. “It’s just… not everybody gets the choice, you know?”

“Starflight, you don’t have to reconnect with Mastermind if you don’t want to. Maybe it’ll be soon, maybe it’ll be a few years off, or maybe it won’t ever happen. All I want is for you to be happy, so do whatever makes you feel that way, alright?”

“Y-yeah.” Starflight went quiet for a moment, sniffling, before a slight flush came to his face. “Um… could I…”

Fatespeaker let a faint smile slip on to her face as she waited for Starflight to spit it out.

“Could I get a hug?” he asked meekly, the blush especially apparent on his scarred face where the fur hadn’t grown back.

“Of course,” Fatespeaker said, stepping closer to wrap her wings around Starflight. He leaned into her chest, wrapping his arms around her, and she did the same. She smiled, feeling his breathing and heart rate against her chest. It was more than pleasant, and she could tell Starflight felt the same way. He rested his head on Fatespeaker’s shoulder, leaning into her a bit more.

“Maybe someday,” he whispered, so quietly he must’ve thought Fatespeaker couldn’t hear him. He nuzzled a bit more into her shoulder, and she gently patted him on the back. “Someday…”

Chapter Text

Peril sighed, leaning on the edge of a windowpane. She was in an empty classroom, supposed to be incinerating trash, but it couldn’t hurt to procrastinate a little. Early March always made for a pretty landscape to look at, at least in her opinion. Sleet fell from the sky, gathering on the ground but melting just as quickly.

Wanting a break from the heat of her own scales, she ended up poking her head out the open window a bit, reaching out a talon to feel the cool breeze. It was nowhere near as bitter as it had been on previous days that season, and looking down at the landscape below, that wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

Huh, she thought, leaning out the window a little more to get a better look, the snow is starting to melt.

Peril huffed, turning back out of the window and returning to her work as a trash incinerator. She had gotten used to the winter chill, countering her scales and saving her from the relentless heat that attacked her skin. She got this awful, prickly sensation if her skin got too hot beneath her scales, and there wasn’t really anything that could counter it. 

Then again, spring had its benefits too. The rain could cool her down a bit, and thawing ice opened up new opportunities to take a swim and cool off that way. Besides, it was actually possible to burn snow, and Peril always found that unpleasant.

I guess I’ll just have to wait and see where it goes, she thought to herself, burning one last banana peel into ash. Finally, this room was done, and the garbage can was empty, save for the pile of embers in the bottom. Looking around, there was soot everywhere – on her talons, the outside of the bin, the floor, even some on the walls. Huh. Did Starflight seriously go and assign me a chore that makes more mess than it cleans up? Figures.

It was another day in prison, and so far, nothing interesting had happened. If Mastermind had been keeping track of the seasons correctly, it was probably spring by now, but the mono-summer of the tropics made it easy to lose track. He had more or less recovered from the other day’s shock of conversation, and was sitting placidly in his cell, more or less content with the present moment.

Chameleon was on the other side of the cell, still groggy from just having woken up, not seeming to notice Mastermind across from him. He got up onto his feet, grumbled a bit, took a sip of water and sat back down.

The peace was broken when a pair (or two?) of footsteps began to descend down the hall.

That’s odd, Mastermind thought, what is it, quarter to twelve? If that’s Darkfall, he’s awfully early…

Mastermind shrank away from the bars, finding a nice corner to cower in, when he saw the dragons coming around the corner. They were both RainWings, one with scarlet scales swirling with black and grey, and another with bubblegum pink scales being drowned out by blue-greys and swirls of lime green. Mastermind didn’t know either of them, but he’d seen them both before, and he almost knew the latter.

“Mangrove,” she hissed, “I know you’re upset, but this isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

Mangrove scoffed, and Mastermind could hear him taking a step towards the bars.

“I just want to see it for myself,” he muttered. “So they just tossed him in here? Should’ve left him in the sandpit…”

Mastermind remembered the sandpit. He’d been able to keep up appearances, but they left him in a year longer than they had to, and he nearly drowned when they forgot to account for pressure suffocation. It was fair, he supposed, but not exactly pleasant. In the present moment, he buried his head in his talons a little bit more.

“ Mangrove . Please, just be civil–”

“‘Be civil’? Orchid, none of this is civil!”

“Yeah, well, at least it’s ove,” Orchid said back, audibly lashing her tail. Mastermind closed his eyes, but he remembered her face, and everything before and after that…

How didn’t I notice? How didn’t I know what I was doing?

Maybe if somebody told me–

Who under this snake infested sky would have told me!?

Mastermind curled up in on himself, wanting so badly to be somewhere, anywhere else. At least he had remorse– it just came a couple years too late. Couple years too late to save a life or three.

“Orchid…”

“Listen. He’s behind bars now, and things are different now. We have a queen that cares about us, dragons are being looked after, and something like that won’t happen ever again!” she hissed, concluding her point. “I’ve already lived it, there’s no need to dwell. I’m more than happy to just move on with my life. Come on, let’s go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Mangrove muttered as they left, his voice low. Orchid responded with something, but they were already halfway down the hall and Mastermind didn’t catch it.

Once he was sure they were gone, Mastermind stopped cowering and sat back up, looking towards the floor. His wings wanted to fall limply to either side, but he forced them to stay above the ground. It wasn’t convincing up close, but if a guard walked by, they wouldn’t think anything of it.

“Mastermind? You alright?” Chameleon asked, taking a step towards him. He must’ve gotten up while Mastermind wasn’t looking.

“No,” Mastermind murmured, “but I think I’ll be fine.”

“Um, okay.” Chameleon nodded, stiltedly patting Mastermind’s side with an outstretched wing. “There, there?”

Mastermind chuckled, and Chameleon managed a slight laugh as well. He drew his wing away, although Mastermind had grown to like the lime-peel scales against his own. Shame rolled off of his shoulders, if only for a moment. They sparked up a conversation, and for the fifteen precious minutes before Darkfall came, everything was right in the world.

“So using Peril as a trash incinerator was a bad idea,” Starflight admitted, talking as he walked. He and Fatespeaker were going on a walk around campus, unpacking last week’s events. “I wasn’t thinking! It seemed convenient at the time!”

“It was also a bit demeaning, and gross, and all the other stuff she very kindly told you, but y’know,” Fatespeaker added, giving Starflight a teasing nudge with her wing. “It wouldn’t hurt to hire a janitor, just saying.”

“Yeah, well, I just need to get everything sorted with that new currency Ruby’s rolling out, and then we’ll do another round of hiring.” Starflight argued back, although it wasn’t much of an argument. They were both thoroughly enjoying the conversation. “It’ll be a lot easier than bartering a salary with treasure, that’s for sure.”

“Mm, treasure,” Fatespeaker said as if she was talking about a nice, juicy cow. “Hey, you’re smart. D’you know why dragons like treasure so much? And just hoarding stuff in general?”

“Well, I read a scroll on the subject a few years back, but there’s no solid conclusion.” Starflight began on his spiel, already recalling the information. “One theory is that it’s a paternal instinct, comparing a pile of gold coins to a nest, but that one has some holes in it. For one, you’d expect there to be some differentiation in the instinct between sexes, which there isn’t. And again, not all dragons like having their treasure in a giant pile like that– you know, like an urn full of jewels or whatever.

“There’s another that suggests it’s a subliminally psychosexual impulse, but the guy behind that one thinks everything is one of those, so it’s probably a load of crap.” Fatespeaker stifled a laugh. “It’s probably just some random chemical thing, like how chocolate has chemicals that make you happy in it, provided you’re of a tribe it isn’t poisonous to. Hoard types vary, although it’s suspected to either be a personal preference or an availability thing.”

“Huh! Remind me to pick up a geode or something like that for Peril one of these days,” Fatespeaker said, “she’s starting a rock collection, and she could really do with something sparkly to spruce up her sleeping cave.”

“Just be careful what type of stone you get her. Most types of quartz have a melting point around that of glass, since they’re both silica, and I know Peril can melt that with fire she breathes.”

They fell out of their conversation but continued with their walk for a few more paces, before finding a nice place to sit. Starflight leaned into Fatespeaker’s side, enjoying the warmth of her skin and fur, even if the temperature outside was finally rising.

“This is nice,” Fatespeaker muttered, putting a wing over Starflight’s shoulder. Besides their breathing, the only other sounds were the chirping of birds and the crashing of a nearby waterfall. “Starflight?”

“Yeah?” Starflight went on oblivious, unaware of the blush on Fatespeaker’s face.

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?” she asked, her voice a bit squeaky near the end. She was a bit flustered, and by the time Starflight processed her question, so was he.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, of course!” he said, words stumbling out of his mouth. His ears burned, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as Fatespeaker drew her snout closer to his.

She kissed him, just a quick peck on the snout, then pulled her head away. She kept her wing around him, and Starflight fell back into her side.

“...Was that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“This is a nice spot… we should go out here more often,” Starflight said, nuzzling into Fatespeaker’s curly violet fur. How he was able to manage a full sentence with all the emotion running through him, he didn’t know.

“We should,” Fatespeaker agreed, nodding, “We really should.”

Clay made his way through the hallways, leaning against the wall a bit more than they should have. His talons hurt and his head was throbbing, and all he wanted was a place to sit down for a rest… But he really didn’t want to worry his friends.

Thankfully, he knew a good spot to sit down for a few minutes. It was somewhere between a spare room and a storage closet. There was little to no lighting, and enough room for two adult dragons to sit without brushing against each other. Best of all, nobody else seemed to store anything there or even knew it existed.

However, when Clay got there, there was a doorstop holding the door open and a faint glow coming from behind it. Curious, he walked up to it, pulled the door open, and poked his head inside.

“AH!” the dragon inside yelped, and Clay found himself staggering backwards. He noticed the glowing scales and the warmth coming off of them, although he didn’t recognize her for a moment with her blue eyes tinted green by the firelight.

“Peril! Moons, I’m sorry. I’ll leave, I just–” Clay began to walk backwards out the door, only to stumble over the cinderblock and wince in pain.

“Wait no, you don’t have to leave,” Peril squeaked, frantically waving her talons. With their inherent glow, they left significant ghost trails in the dark. “I get it. You go here to cower too, right?”

“Y-yeah, I didn’t know you did,” he said, voice shaking, opening the door and entering the room. He sat down on the end opposite to her, a loose pile of blankets softening the ground beneath him. “Um, why…?”

“Oh, I just go here when I get wayyyy too overwhelmed and go here to chill out and maybe cry a little before I do something stupid and everybody hates me again!!” she said, her usual zeal barely concealing her words. Her voice was tight, on the verge of tears. Normally Clay would have jumped to comfort her from an outsider’s place, but as tired as he was, it only made sense to commiserate instead.

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” he sighed, looking up at the darkened roof. “I come here when my head hurts and my talons are sore and nowadays they’re even more sore because of compensating my leg but I don’t want anyone to worry–”

“Ohh, yeah, rock floors are a bitch,” Peril interrupted, stopping Clay before he could run out of breath. “I’m, like, 22 and my spine is already all crunchy from having to sleep on the floor. I’m surprised you guys decided to start a school in a mountain after growing up under one, actually. Why’d you do that?”

“Oh, I was actually kind of in the hospital when most of the stuff with the school happened?” Clay said, managing a sour laugh. “I mean, it’s finally gotten on track, and it was a nice idea, but I would’ve waited until around now to get things started up. And also had it in an actual building in a place with grass and mud and soft ground and stuff.”

“...huh,” Peril said before turning to the ceiling, zoning out. It was a calm silence, and this was his friend, and yet something about it made Clay a little bit anxious in a way he hadn’t been before. He was happy to be there with her, but he was also just very…

I’m probably just sore and tired, Clay decided, curling up into his own corner. He closed his eyes, rolled over, and tried to doze off for a few minutes.

He didn’t sleep very soundly, but it was certainly better than being on his talons.

It was fairly easy to tell when Mastermind was thinking about something. He would stop talking, and he would look just past where Chameleon was sitting. Not staring off into space, but looking with intent at nothing at all. Occasionally, probably when he thought up an interesting point or something, his ear would twitch, and he’d open his mouth slightly before closing it and biting his tongue.

It was… endearing, Chameleon supposed, but he couldn’t quite settle on the best descriptor. Something about Mastermind in general was just endearing, in his erratic, not technically a war criminal because neither party was formally participating in the war sort of way.

Still, as much as Chameleon liked watching him think, he couldn’t help but hold a little bit of fear. Mastermind thought very deliberately, usually looking for a conclusion, which he would then share. Very scientific, and Chameleon hadn’t seen him do otherwise. The problem laid in what would happen when he opened his mouth and began to speak.

Eventually, after a few painful minutes, Mastermind finally opened his mouth.

“You never did tell me what you were charged with,” he said, looking up at Chameleon with remarkable lightness. “We both traded brief summations, but…”

Chameleon raised an eyebrow at summation (one hell of an adjective, in his opinion), but he took in the rest of the statement just fine. It was true– Mastermind had opened up about his crimes, practically rended his soul out to him, while Chameleon kept his mouth shut.

“You do know what you’re being charged with now, yes?”

“Yes, I do,” Chameleon responded, the words bitter on his tongue. He had had it told to him now, loud and clear, although the exact sentencing was still up in the air. “I’ve done a lot of shit, but as I expected, the only one anyone can get me for is maiming a child. Other than that, I’m pretty good at committing crimes.”

The boasting brought a shimmer of not-quite-joy to Chameleon’s head, and he added with a distasteful glance at his surroundings, “I’ve never been in prison for more than a day or two.”

“Really, now?” Mastermind asked in deadpan, looking at Chameleon from afar and distinctly unimpressed. It hit Chameleon like a physical blow, taking the air out of his lungs.

He’d forgotten how easily he could put other dragons off.

“Either way, I think you’re evading the point a little bit there,” Mastermind continued, “could you focus on the child maiming, please?”

“Oh, come on. You already knew about it!” Chameleon retorted, trying to ignore the nagging part of his brain that told him he was only avoiding more .

“Your phrasing was vague! ‘Injured a kid’ could easily be taken to mean all you did was swipe at some teenage delinquent!”

“Like you’re any better,” Chameleon snapped, ears pressing down and frills flaring. He growled, baring his teeth, but only for a moment. If he really wanted to intimidate him, he’d put more effort into his stance.

“I–” Mastermind’s words cut off and his breath hitched. He clenched his talons and looked down at the ground. A pang of guilt socked Chameleon right in the chest, and he dropped his frills.

He sighed, taking a long, dragging breath in.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to,” Chameleon said, “it’s just… the first time I see a RainWing since they treat me like shit and kick me out, I panic, and I also happen to forget I’ve shapeshifted into a NightWing with super strength. Sue me!”

Mastermind blinked a few times, quite aggressively, wings half-flared in shock.

“You what? ” He said, eyes wide as saucers. Any upset in his expression was immediately replaced with terror and shock. He didn’t even rephrase his statement into a formal, vocabulrific bid for more information. Mastermind just stood there and gaped.

Right. Chameleon had forgotten that his whole life story was a bit… out there. He huffed, somewhat annoyed– Mastermind didn’t have to explain how he ended up in a situation where kidnapping random RainWings was totally acceptable.

“Right. Let me back up a little,” he said, leaning back on his haunches as he prepared to tell his story. He hadn’t told the truth, the whole truth, in decades, so he had to find a good place to start. “‘Mkay, so, I hatched in the rainforest, right?”

“I gathered that,” Mastermind said, nodding dimly. He’d managed to gather himself, simply looking on as Chameleon spoke.

“Right. I hatched in the rainforest, and I hatched like this. ” Chameleon swiped a talon towards himself to demonstrate, half-flaring a wing. “So, I’m sure in your lovely kidnappy scientific research you realised most RainWings can change colour.

“It’s related to how they display emotions, yes?” Mastermind said, perking up a little.

“Yeah, but they like to do other things with it, too. They make themselves pretty colours, they go invisible and through things from where you can’t see them, they play all sorts of games.

“And I couldn’t. I couldn’t join them in their little games, I couldn’t show off my feelings with strobe lights like the rest of them, and apparently , that was enough to make them so uncomfortable that the queen herself had to kick me out. She said that maybe there was a place I would belong, another tribe of dragons willing to take me in.”

Chameleon growled, lowering his gaze.

“I tried. Moons above, I fucking tried. Unfortunately for me, war-torn Pyrrhia wasn’t a very friendly place to some weird looking RainWing who’d just stumbled in.

“Anyways, I was in a bit of a scrape. I fell into the old abandoned NightWing kingdom– you heard of it?”

“Yes, I believe my son’s half-sister is establishing a homestead out there,” Mastermind said, nodding. Chameleon ignored the inherent word salad in that relation and moved on. (He could press later, when Mastermind had exited this firm, no-nonsense mode and was decidedly less on edge.)

“Yeah. So, I was laying low in the abandoned NightWing city-state,  jewel of the lost kingdom and all that. Found a concerning amount of bones, an abandoned house to camp in, and then I found it. The goldmine.

“The animus talisman– Darkstalker’s scroll. You, ah, might’ve heard of it,” Chameleon said casually, turning his gaze back to Mastermind. He was balking at him, again, blinking rather aggressively.

“You touched Darkstaker’s scroll, ” he said quietly, raising his voice as he spoke. “You willingly took up a relic of the dark king, and that was a good thing to you!?”

“Uh, yeah? And then I used it to make my shapes and pretend to be different dragons. Improved my living situation from ‘abandoned house with bones in it’ to ‘couch of guy who was teaching me how to write’. Pretty good thing, if you ask me.”

“B-b-but your soul, ” Mastermind said, “he was in a dormant slumber under the earth, and you just fed your soul to him!? ”

“Don’t think that’s how it works, buddy,” Chameleon said, deciding to continue on with his story regardless. “Anyways, ‘feeding my soul to the Darkstalker’ or whatever’ was pretty great. I had one for every dragon on Pyrrhia, pretty much, even if one of them was a piss-yellow SkyWing I made up when I was, like, 14.

“...maybe I did go a bit overboard with Shapeshifter, though. He was this gigantic fucking NightWing with, like, invulnerable scales and super hot fire and super-strength… he was the tank, essentially.”

“And you used your ‘tank’ to enact violence against a child.”

“Listen, it was the first time I’d seen another RainWing in years, ” Chameleon said, smooth as he could muster against Mastermind’s deadpan, “I… panicked, a little.”

Chameleon was taken back to that moment, looking down at the ground. It really had been a gut reaction. He still remembered the exact thoughts that went through his head afterwards, actually.

What did you just do

What did you just do

What did you just–

You did what you had to. Just move on.

“I mean, I did pay for it,” Chameleon said, “that kid and her friends jacked my shit, including my shapes , and left me in the same shithole situation I started in! Plus the kid hit me in the head with a brick, so yeah. I think we’re even.”

There were a few moments of silence, Mastermind doing the thing again as he sat in thought.

“...you would never have ended up here if they had let you be,” Mastermind said, slowly, “you’re only here because you managed to get yourself caught, while shapeshifting, on your own hubris. Yes?”

“...maybe,” Chameleon said, “although, maybe, it’s not my fault because the Darkstalker stole my soul, huh?”

Mastermind scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, I might have been erratic there. Still… metaphorically, I’d say so,” Mastermind said, grinning slightly, “you let your means of survival turn into a frivolous monument to yourself, yes?”

Chameleon blinked a few times. Had he really said that much?

Mastermind’s smile fell a bit, but he still barked out some kind of laugh.

“...funny how that always seems to happen.”

Chameleon scoffed.

“I know, right?” He exhaled, leaning back and looking towards the cell bars. There was a clock across the wall now, where there hadn’t been before, proudly announcing a time around 2:15.

Hopefully he hadn’t annoyed Mastermind too badly. He seemed to understand, and it was so, so nice to have somebody who listened for once.

Peril sighed, leaning back against the wall. She was forced to squirm, trying to find a way her scales didn’t brush uncomfortably against the rocks. The only one that existed sacrificed her shoulder blades, and so she settled for lying down on the floor again.

It was about 15 minutes later that same day, hiding out with Clay in that glorified closet. She felt a lot better now, her thoughts burning clear and the world making sense again. However, her stomach gnawed with hunger, and she knew she’d never feel all the way better if she didn’t get something to eat. That was just the way it was.

Some sharp, ingrained instinct told her to find some black rocks and wait for somebody to bless her with a plate of food once she earned it. But that was Scarlet talking, and Peril deserved better. She wasn’t a furnace, and she ate food, not random hunks of coal.

With a sigh, Peril got up onto her talons and laid a talon on the door. She turned to Clay, who was half asleep in the corner, and told him, “I’m, uhh, going out to grab something to eat.” Then, some sharp, painful, lonely, selfish feeling stabbed at her heart and she added, “do you wanna come with?”

To her delight (ugh, was she too delighted?) Clay looked up at her and smiled.

“I was just about to ask if I could, actually,” he said, getting up onto his talons and following her out the door. He smiled, just slightly, but it still felt like the entire sun had rudely pushed itself right into Peril’s chest. She padded after him with a smile as they headed outside to catch something.

Peril was happy, so happy, when he was around, but she still felt a little bad about it. She remembered his words, ‘I’m not going to be another Scarlet for you,’ and she took them to heart. She had a life now, why was she still like this?

Then, just around the time that they made it outside, Peril did a trouble take. She did have a life– she had a good friend in Fatespeaker, who was a bit like Sunny, just a bit more up her alley, and she was getting used to Sunny’s everything, she supposed. Turtle was busy a lot, running some animus council or whatever, but he was always nice to have around, too. She had her job, had her meager rock collection, had a few new routes to go flying in.

She had so much and more and she still had these feelings for him. That meant they were real, right? She had dragons who got her, but that didn’t mean Clay didn’t still get it in his own special way. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still be special to her, because he was, he really was.

Peril sighed, watching as Clay trotted off into the underbrush in pursuit of a catch. She smiled, watching him go, with the way his tail swished as part of his new, altered gait…

Clay would always be a part of this, wouldn’t he?

Peril was jolted out of her musings by Clay prancing towards her, a wild boar in his mouth. He dropped it in front of her, beaming.

“This…should…be…big enough for us to share,” Clay panted, nudging the boar towards her. Peril smiled, trying to ignore the way her ears burned and she felt like she was dying but in a good way!

“Thank you,” she said, looking at him and sighing. “I’d, like, love to hug you or something, but then that would probably hurt even if it wouldn’t kill you, and–”

“No it won’t,” Clay said, wrapping his wings around Peril in a hug– without flinching too. He squeezed her for a few seconds before letting go, smiling like an idiot as he dug into the boar. “So, fun thing about my scales, turns out they actually get stronger with time, or exposure, or both. Probably both.

“So not only can you touch me without it hurting or burning much, you’re also making me more fire resistant! Which is neat,” Clay said, taking a moment to realise Peril had stopped speaking. “You alright?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine,” Peril said, grabbing a bit of the boar and stuffing the gamey pork into her mouth before it could burn. “Just… appreciating this view, I guess. The mountains are nice this time of day.”

Peril was lying. She was really looking at Clay, with his brown and orangey-brown scales shining amber and gold in the afternoon sun. He might’ve noticed, but he certainly didn’t say anything.

It was a slow day in early April, and the JMA staff were all on their lunch breaks. It was also the day where the nice, convenient stove they just installed in the staffroom suddenly gave up and stopped working. Four dragons were in the staffroom at this time. Three of them were arguing.

“Hey, how about we just start a campfire or something?” Fatespeaker suggested, gesturing vaguely with her talons. She needed the stove to reheat the cold leftovers she brought for lunch.

“Oh, wow, that sounds like a great idea, aside from the part where it’s RAINING outside!” Tsunami retorted, lashing her tail. She had a pot of water to make macaroni with, and couldn’t be paid to go out and catch a fish in the rain instead. “What are we supposed to do? Start a fire here!?”

A beat passed, and Fatespeaker looked like she was about to say something.

“Tsunami’s right. That is not remotely safe,” said Clay, jumping into the argument for the first time. He didn’t really need the stove– he was more than willing to go out into the rain, could cook his food himself if he warmed up enough, and had already eaten besides that. He was just here to sit beside the fourth dragon, Peril, who wasn’t participating in the argument because she was sleeping on the floor.

“But–”

“Just because it’s well-ventilated and fireproof enough to have Peril and the stove in here doesn’t mean we can put in a loose fire.” Clay said firmly, doubling down on his argument. “Peril and the stove are both self-contained sources of heat, while the fire could spread anywhere and get out of control. Besides, it’s too hard to boil water over it anyways.”

There was a moment of silence, aside from a quiet “hmph!” from Fatespeaker.

“...what about Peril? ” Tsunami suggested, pointing towards the sleeping firescales. “I mean, you could probably fry an egg on her–” Peril squirmed a bit in her sleep, “–so just heating stuff up would be as easy as sliding it next to her!”

“Ooh, that sounds like a great idea!” Fatespeaker cooed, clasping her talons together before padding over to where Peril was sleeping.

“Wait, wait, hold on for a second,” Clay interjected, jumping in between Peril and Fatespeaker. “That’s not very nice! You’ve got to ask for her permission first.”

“Alright then! HEY, PERIL, WAKE UP!” Fatespeaker shouted, pushing Clay aside just a little bit. She stirred, groaning and opening a blue-black eye. “Hi! Can you do us a favour?”

“No,” Peril mumbled, saying something unintelligible before adding, “‘m sleepin’ and it’s comfy on the floor here. Le’me alone…”

“You won’t have to get up to do it,” she added, and Peril perked up a bit.

“And what is it you need me to do, exactly?”

Fatespeaker didn’t say much of anything. She just looked at Periel and smiled sheepishly, Tsunami staring at Peril from over her shoulder. Frowning, Peril looked over at Clay, putting a talon on his tail to get his attention.

“Clay… what do they want me to do??? ” Peril hissed nervously, keeping her voice low.

Clay sighed, taking a deep breath in and managing a slight grin.

“The stove is broken,” he explained, and there was no need to say anything more.

“Ah. Well,” Peril said, moving her tail aside and getting a little less curled up, “Pass what you’ve got over here and I’ll heat it up for you, but I can’t say I’ll do a good job.”

Despite Peril’s warning, Fatespeaker set her food down beside her. Peril brought it closer, resting it against her scales. First it was still, then it began to bubble and crackle beneath the lid. Fatespeaker reached in and pulled it back, trying to muffle her yelp as the hot glass touched her paw pads. She opened it up, poked at it with a claw, and…

“It’s warm! There’s water all over the lid for… some reason, but it’s all warmed up!” Fatespeaker exclaimed, clasping her talons together and grinning.

“Ooh, I bet that’s from the water vapor– it must’ve boiled the water in the food, and that’s part of how it was able to reheat it.” Peril said, smiling before looking up at Tsunami. “You wanna give boiling that water a shot?”

“Snakepit yes!” She agreed, walking over and sliding her pot of water over to Peril. “Clay, you look over that water for me. I gotta figure out where I left the macaroni…”

“Tsunami, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Clay said, or tried to say, at least. He was cut off by Tsunami leaving the room, and Fatespeaker nudging him with her wing. 

“Come on, Clay, can’t we have a little fun?” She said teasingly, “It’s not like anybody’s getting hurt, right, Peril?”

“Yeah! It’s more entertaining than sitting on the floor all lunch,” said Peril, nodding. “Besides, I think this is the best me and Tsunami have gotten along in years. ”

“Well, I guess I can’t say no to that…” Clay conceded, going back to sitting beside Peril. Just as he settled back into her side, Tsunami came bursting through the door, eagerly shaking a box of macaroni noodles (pre-packaged with cheese sauce mix).

“Water boiled?” She asked, and as if some hidden animus made the command, bubbles began to burst on the surface of the water. “All right!” Without another word, Tsunami sauntered on over and poured the macaroni into the pot.

It began to fizz and stir as soon as she did that, and although that was to be expected, it didn’t normally have the added complication of a living, breathing dragon being sprayed with boiling water. Thankfully, for Peril, this was merely an inconvenience– but it was also making a massive mess.

“What the- how is there macaroni on my face!?” Peril cried, swiping at the stray noodle. “Gah, maybe you were right, Clay, this is a terrible idea.”

“Sure it’s not!” Tsunami insisted, pulling the pot away. She yelped as the metal (nearly redhot, as was becoming clear as it moved away from Peril’s firelight) burned her talons, causing her to bring a claw to her mouth and suck on it to ease the pain. Clay raised his eyebrows to this, but she shrugged it off and said, “eh, nerve endings are for losers! Right, Fatespeaker?”

“...I really need to introduce you to oven mitts one of these days,” she said dryly, “they’re great for us paw-havers who don’t like having our skin melted off. I’m surprised you don’t use them considering the flammable webbing between your claws.”

“Tsunami, you owe me a bowl of macaroni,” Peril grumbled, still fighting with the (now burnt) noodle sticking to her scales like glue. “I don’t even care if it’s impossible for me to eat, I am chowing down out of spite. ”

Clay sighed, taking a deep breath in and preparing to say something before stopping entirely. Frozen, he was unable to alert the others in the room of the two dragons looming in the doorway.

“Um… okay, I don’t think this is a very good use of our staff kitchen,” Sunny said, rolling her eyes. She still held a smile, unable to be too angry at her friends– especially not for this. “I mean, points for creativity, but we’ve already been marked a fire hazard on three separate offenses.”

Starflight, standing beside her, had a much more decisive frown on his face. He sniffed the air, ribbed ears panning to take in even more information, before jolting upwards in recognition.

“Did you seriously try to use Peril as a moons-begotten heat source to cook with?” He hissed, lashing his tail and tilting his head accusingly. “What is wrong with you people!?” His ear twitched, and he added, “don’t answer that question.”

“Well, I was using our dear friend Peril as a cooking appliance responsibly, ” Fatespeaker said with mock-smugness, “it was Tsunami here who decided to be irresponsible and boil a pot of water.”

“Yeah, well, you encouraged me! ” Tsunami shot back, pressing a talon to her chest.

“For the record, I told you it wasn’t the best idea,” Clay chimed in, only to direct his attention to Peril after she nudged him on the shoulder.

“You sure didn’t stop her, either,” she pointed out, “and before you mention that was only because I convinced you, I do want you to consider that I am but a humble cooking appliance in this situation.”

“That’s besides the point–” Starflight tried to say, only to be cut off.

“Still, this is rich coming from the guy who tried to use Peril as a trash incinerator,” Fatespeaker said with a shit-eating grin. Immediately, Starflight was flustered, pulling on his ears in an attempt to hide his blush.

“I– uh– well– that was more than a month ago!”

“Doesn’t make it any less of a terrible idea!” Peril said, just as she finally got rid of that pesky noodle.

“Alright, guys, calm down,” Sunny said calmly, taking a step into the room and half-flaring her wings. “Let’s just focus on getting this cleaned up, alright?”

“Alright,” Fatespeaker echoed, although she seemed to ignore the words and just pad on towards Starflight. They intertwined tails, and she shot him one of the mushiest glances in the world. Tsunami raised an eyebrow, but refrained from saying anything. Peril just snorted in amusement.

Just as Sunny, Starflight and Fatespeaker left the room, Peril dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes. She yawned, giving herself a good stretch before curling up and preparing to continue her nap.

However, Starflight seemed to sense this, and from down the hall, he shouted:

“Get up! You have work to do!”

Peril sighed, getting up on her talons and shot Clay a look. He smiled and shrugged, and the two left the room, leaving Tsunami to clean up her mess.

Mastermind poked at his food, putting mouthful after bland mouthful between his teeth. He didn’t know what he was eating, and he didn’t care either, other than its slightly slimy texture. He was more focused on the dragon across from him, rubbing his eyes between bites of his food. He yawned, frills flaring out for a moment before falling back down.

“Are you alright?” Mastermind asked, sure to keep his voice from getting too loud.

“Eh, I just woke up, so I’m still pretty messed up,”

Blah blah blah

Mastermind was content with the silence– he always was. With his portion finished, he took the opportunity to simply sit back and observe Chameleon as he ate. He was a friend (was it too soon to say that?), and that was very nice, but beyond that, the green RainWing was just so fascinating.

Purely on a physical level, Mastermind had already made several new observations. Chameleon’s snout, if he was remembering correctly, seemed to be deformed in more than one place. There was the externally noticeable defect on his snout, but his nostrils seemed to be a different shape than that of most RainWings– most dragons, really. Based on his breathing, and how he often hacked his lungs out and sometimes discharged mucus after his (maximum two and a half hours of) sleep, there was likely some other abnormality in his sinus that Mastermind couldn’t see.

Part of him wanted to go closer, to stare up Chameleon’s nasal cavity and come at his snout with a ruler. Of course, he didn’t have the resources, and besides that… there was a companionship he didn’t want to just throw away. Dragons didn’t take too kindly to being experimented on, after all.

Then again, Mastermind was making his attempt to be nice to him. He shared his rations, he talked to him, he kept his mouth shut and tried to be normal.

That’s something, right? He thought, managing a glance over at Chameleon. The RainWing blinked out of sync, rubbing his eyes for a moment before returning to his meal. Mastermind sighed, allotting himself the opportunity to observe Chameleon’s scales.

Oh, moons, his scales! They just had to be coloured by chlorophyll, Mastermind was sure of it. The shade variance on the underbelly and over scales seemed to be a trait of all RainWings, likely a combination of scale thickness and pigment saturation. The lighter, yellowish scales around his eye and down his neck were likely that colour due to a lack of chloroplasts in general. If his theory was correct, that would certainly explain the slight browning–from dying chloroplasts, like autumn leaves–on his extremities.

“You lookin’ at me?” Chameleon asked, jolting Mastermind out of his thoughts. He felt his ears burn, and he was unable to spit out a response.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I–” To Mastermind’s surprise, Chameleon just shrugged and flicked a frill.

“I don’t mind,” he said, smirking for a moment.

If Mastermind wasn’t blushing before, he was definitely blushing now. With his face so hot his glasses began to steam, Mastermind was reminded of another factor in their relationship– that. It seemed that Mastermind had developed some sort of affection for Chameleon, and the dragon he was, a dragon nearly as interesting as his appearance. It was something, alright, and Mastermind wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it. He elected to push it aside, for now, keeping his interest, aside from simple companionship, as scientific as he could. Less things to mess up.

Mastermind just made a quiet noise and looked away from Chameleon, directing his attention to the cell door. There were talonsteps coming down the hall, and he wanted to see what that was all about.

Ice went down Mastermind’s spine as he recognised the greens, blues, oranges and reds of the Queen of the RainWings (and NightWings!)’s usually coat. She nodded to him, swirls of purplish black distaste moving through her frills like smoke.

Alright alright be normal don’t get yourself killed cooperate , Mastermind thought, straightening her posture and meeting her eyes. He only found it slightly terrifying that a dragon his son’s age was noticeably taller than him. RainWings are just tall and also slightly more able to kill you don’t worry about it you can run quickly no don’t run–

“Mastermind,” Glory said dryly, sliding her keys into the cell door, radiograph spikes of faded lemon lime shooting through her talons in response to the sound it made as it rattled open. “Step outside, will you? We have some things to discuss.”

COOPERATE COOPERATE BE NORMAL DON’T GET YOURSELF KILLED–

“Certainly, your majesty,” Mastermind said, calmly stepping out the door and following Glory’s steps.