Work Text:
A sea of dusty and squirming dragonets lined the path, each one molding the walls of a new community center using their talons. The ruddy color of the adobe hid many of the dragons’ odd traits. Although most of them were hybrids, the work and material united them visually and physically.
Condor glanced at the dragonet next to him. She was a dark color, ashy due to the heat and dust. He couldn’t figure out exactly what she was. His best guess was Nightwing mixed with something else. Interesting, since Nightwings weren’t known for being adventurous enough to drop kids willy-nilly. Her dark coloration along with the light speckles under her wings gave her night dragon history away. Her lighter eyes and lack of spines are what confused Condor; that could be due to either Seawing or Rainwing history.
She flashed her teeth and snarled. “Do I got something on my face?”
He ignored the chunks of red clay dotting her snout. “No.” Condor turned back to the lump of adobe he was forming into a roof tile.
The warm color of the adobe nearly blended into Condor’s own scales. As a hybrid himself, his Sandwing looks were muddled by a bright red complexion that faded into orange along the length of his body. His wings were too large compared to most sand dragons, and unlike either of his parents, he couldn’t breathe fire. Assuming his other parent was a Skywing, that is. He wasn’t sure. Growing up in the Scorpion Den orphanage hadn’t given him a lot of clues as to who his parents were. He knew that he was at least half Sandwing. The frills that crested his head and black barb on his tail were dead giveaways.
The sandy and bleach-bone colored scales that ran in a line down his neck and dotted his shoulders and tail were the only colors on his body that looked appropriate for the desert. As the old matriarch of his orphanage used to say, “There’s a Sandwing hiding under there somewhere!” The headmistress used to cackle and raise a claw to her face every time she said it. Condor rolled his eyes at the memory of her piercing shriek, which gained another dirty look from the dark dragonet beside him.
The group of dragonets whipped their heads towards a cacophony of shouts and growls. One of the burlier Outclaws pinned a black and yellow dragon to the ground, his pale wings flared out in anger. Red clay was smeared on his face and snout.
“I’d rip your wings off and mail you to Burn’s palace if I was the one calling the shots!” the larger dragon hissed.
The smaller dragon, probably a few years older than Condor, stayed still and maintained eye contact with the guard. Yellow frills behind his cool gray ears had orange dancing at their tips, which was the only emotion the dragon displayed on his body. An oversized barb hung off the tip of his tail, slightly raised toward the underbelly of the guard. The guard’s own poisonous tail was raised and aimed at the smaller dragon’s forehead.
When the hybrid didn’t say anything, the guard jabbed his claw harder onto the dragonet’s windpipe in warning. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Last I checked, adobe doesn’t move on its own, and I sure as the three moons don’t think any of you are animus!” He swung his head around at the dragonets staring at him.
The pinned dragon let out a few choking sounds before the guard released a little bit of pressure. “Honest mistake. I—” he coughed “The clay on top of that tower over there fell off ‘cause it was unbalanced. I’m sorry.” His head fell to the ground in submission, but his ear frills had only grown warmer in color. His tail hadn’t changed positions either.
The guard bent his snout close to the other dragon’s to check for any signs of rebellion, and having found none, side-stepped to let the dragon up. He snorted a jet of fire at the dragonet, then returned to staring at a different line of laboring dragons. To Condor’s surprise, the dragonet stomped over to where he was working and flicked his barbed tail at the guard, frills now a deep orange.
“I cannot wait to get out of this tar pit,” he said. Upon closer inspection, he had a tawny gold frill on his head and slimmer build than most of the other dragons working. Condor was almost certain this dragon was a mix of Sandwing and Rainwing. The dragonet gave Condor a one-over and narrowed his eyes. “What’s with the stare? You’re no Nova yourself.”
The Nightwing mix next to Condor piped up. “He did the same thing to me. Guy needs to mind his own business.”
Condor put the piece of adobe he was working with down. “Hey now, I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just nice being around other hybrids, is all.” He resisted the urge to go on a ramble about how he found different mixes endlessly interesting.
“Huh,” the slimmer dragon said. “Well, anyway, the second I get a chance to leave, I’m out of here.”
The Nightwing nodded in agreement. “You and me both. You’d think at least here we’d be free from prying eyes.” She shot a glare at Condor. “Maybe after the war other dragons will stop seeing us as mistakes.”
The other dragonet gritted his teeth. “I’m not sticking around long enough to find out.”
“What?” The night dragon sneered. “You gonna go ballistic and join one of the gangs around here?”
The sand dragon narrowed his eyes and dug his claws into the ruddy clay in front of him. “You can’t blame me for thinking about it.”
The smug expression dropped off the other dragonet’s face. All Condor knew about the hybrid gangs in the Scorpion Den was that they were bad news, and that they were highly selective despite being a minority in the den. He’d heard horror stories of some of the initiation rituals that took place.
“Yeah, well,” the night dragon started. “You may have a better shot than I did.” She moved her wing, and Condor saw a large slightly raised scar that trailed from her shoulder all the way to her hip. “I heard they’re partial to sand mixes.”
Leo furrowed his brow and nodded. “Me too. And I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Don’t be.” She curled her lip at his pity. “I knew what I was getting into.”
Leo went back to his pile of adobe and began shaping something or other. Condor took quick note that Leo wasn’t the best at sculpting and seemed to be looking at other dragonets for examples.
After a moment, Leo spoke up again. “What about you?” He nudged Condor with the backside of his barb. “Think you’d ever try for one of the groups?”
Condor caressed the adobe tile to finish it off while he thought of his answer. “No. I don’t want anything tying me to this place.” He put his tile on a mat in the sun to dry.
Leo made a whistling noise. “Think you can make it out of the desert? Big dreams.”
Condor snorted and shot a glance at the other dragon. “Just ‘cause you gave up on it doesn’t mean it can’t happen. I will make it out.”
“I didn’t mean it as disbelief or anything,” Leo countered. “I just hear that a lot, is all.”
Condor sat up straighter and put another glob of clay in front of him. “Well I mean it. One day, when I’m old enough to make it—” he sliced a chunk off the block “--I’m gonna fly to the ocean, and the rainforest, and the sky kingdom, and I’m gonna find somewhere better than here. With water.”
Leo seemed interested now. “How do you know if you like water?”
“I’ll never know if I don’t go,” Condor said. “That’s why I need to leave.”
“You got the biggest wings out of all of us,” Leo remarked. “You could do it sooner than you think.”
Condor looked at Leo in surprise. It was the first time another dragon had ever encouraged his pipe dream. “Yeah?”
Leo nodded, looking from his own malformed tile and back at Condor’s. “Yeah.”
Condor had to stop himself from smiling like a giddy idiot. “I hope you get into whatever group you want to, then. You definitely got the guts for it, what with the guard and stuff.”
Leo smiled back with a chuckle. “Thanks, I know I will.”
The two resumed working in peaceful silence.