Dragon Scene I Wrote Then Forgot About.

Sometimes there are scenes for various books or stories in my head. Most of the time, I want said scenes out of there so I can make room for other things. This was apparently one of those times, because I found it in a folder with 80 or 90 other such ramblings that I probably planned to use someday and never did. If I find any other good ones, maybe I’ll put them on here. 

There are two of them. The smaller one, a female, has an opalescent hide of iridescent blues and greens—each individual scale an icy looking-glass that reflects back the glittering gems upon which she rests. The ridges above her steel-blue eyes are rounded in appearance, like those on a turtle’s shell, but her gracefully curving horns above the brow and between the crest that falls upon her neck are dagger-sharp and stained a darker color than the rest of her. The crest is made of the same snow-colored flesh as her wings—the bluish tint to them just barely noticeable in the firelight. She looks at you from beneath heavily-lidded eyes before laying her head back down on her talons with a gentle huff, wrapping her long, finned tail around to cover her face. She does not look at you again, as indifferent to you as you would be to a dandelion puff. The differences in power scale are about the same, and she knows it.

Her mate, however, is of a different sort. He rears upward, the red scales blazing in the firelight, his black, barbed wings lifted behind him with an arrogant dominance. The ridges on his brow are barbed, and pull down across the yellow eyes with slit pupils and an angry, hate-filled stare. His sharp, jagged horns gleam like obsidian under the steams of fire that spurt from his nostrils when he exhales, and his black gums peel back to display gnashing, razor-like teeth.

This is a fury and strength that somehow offers a harmony against the peaceful apathy of his ice-like mate. As with all things, the two complete each other. Blues and reds. Whites and blacks. Ice and fire. Balance.

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