Qián was not a social dragon, by nearly all measures. She spent most of her days up in the Singing Mountains, fraternizing with the harpies and other winged beasts that made the air their home, if any creatures. Though this world was richly populated, so full of life that most days he swore it was close to bursting, Qián spent most of her days alone.
But today was not one of those days.
Today he sat in their human form, not in the towering peaks of their birthplace, the ancestral home of the clockwork dragons, but on the edge of a beach. Her tail swished lazily behind her, sending up small plumes of sand with every action.
And in front of them, laughing as sand speckled their smooth, glistening skin, was a fish folk.
Its skin was a deep emerald green, with bioluminescent patches of violet and dark markings the color of ink alternating across their sleek form. It’s eyes, slitted and half closed with laughter, were a pink hue a few shades lighter than it’s glowing scales. Their lure, which connected to the line of webbing spanning their entire body, swayed back and forth with the movement of their shoulders.
It spoke, its voice a slick rasp.
“It’s been a while, Zhīqián xiǎo. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.”
Qián watched their tail swish back and forth in the shallow surf, sending up waves with its power. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the old nickname. She supposed it was fitting. After all, Nitella was barely fully grown, yet it towered over them at a height of 9’1. Even the shortest of the fish folk had a few inches on Qián, though, so they were used to it. As the runt of their hatching, she could withstand a certain amount of teasing about his small stature.
“Yes, I’ve been… preoccupied.” If you could call dehabilitating visions of the world tearing itself apart preoccupied. “And you? How has the young Prince been acclimating?”
Nitella sighed, rolling onto its back with the grace of an aquatic creature. Its lighter underbelly glimmered in the sun whilst dark horns scrapped lines into the sand beneath their head. It out webbed hands behind its head and crossed its legs in a manner reserved exclusively for when Qián was about to receive the latest undersea gossip.
Many would speak on the gossiping nature of cloud sprites and saytrs, wood nymphs and bridge trolls alike. But one could never underestimate the gossiping potential of a recluse dragon and a bored courtesan fishfolk.
“Ugh! It’s been a nightmare. Not that he’s bad, of course, he can hardly speak loud enough to be heard most nights-“ He snorted, plenty aware of the young princes shyness. “- but the Princess has been a nightmare! Apparently, her royal bitchiness can’t suck it up and fake a smile long enough to even feign a positive relationship. It’s been ghastly! Of course, Aurita has all the details- being a palace worker has its perks!”
Aurita, the fishfolk who Nitella claimed held the title of its second closest friend, worked in an entirely different court than it did. She was a servant in the royal palace while Nitella had been born into a nobles life. Yet still, the two were close friends, much to Qiáns astonishment. They could hardly maintain friends she saw semi-regularly. Yet Nitella made it seem easy. They envied them, for that.
“Y’know… you could come visit someday. I know you aren’t aquatic, but with your-“ it gestured vaguely at Qiáns everything, though specifically the ticking clock that swished on the end of his tail, “time bullshit, I’m sure we could figure something out.”
They huffed a laugh, to Nitellas annoyance. It’s wide mouth pulled into a pout.
“I’m serious! It would be so cool for you to see the Palaces and the courtyards and the…”
It trailed off, a dreamy look in their eyes. Qián knew better than to ask.
“Anyways, just think about it, m’kay? I have to go, my parents might just kill me if I’m late for dinner, but we’ll talk soon!”
And though it felt as though they had just arrived, and his friend was already leaving, Qián forced a smile.
“Of course. Tell your parents I said hi.”
It beamed. “Will do! They love you, you know. They think you’re a “great influence”, whatever that means.”
Nitella gave one more lopsided grin, clearly excited with how Qiáns eyes alighted in laughter, before diving back into the surf. She could watch its faint glow sink deeper into the depths. They smiled fondly, watching their good friend go home.
-
When Qián awoke from the familiar dream, they were crying. He was always crying after those kinds of dreams.
Memories were always the most painful.
She pulled herself up, clockwork tail swishing in time to the beat of the tower. This world was so unlike their own. Here, he was the Hermit. Here, she was a god.
And here, they were so crushingly alone.
