Jarzyl Mintaka

Author note: One of my oldest stories. Did my lexicon and sentence structure really use to be so predictable? Anyway, this is another short slice-of-life story featuring Jarzyl Mintaka, a young dragon in the City of Wings.

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The dragon hatchling stared intently at the tip of her tail, watching it flick from left to right. "Grrr!" she growled, though the noise coming from her throat sounded more like a childish purr than the deep rumbling growl of an adult dragon. The more she watched, the more excited she got, which in turn made her tail twitch faster.

"Rrrrr...hah!" Finally all her pent-up energy exploded outwards as she attempted to pounce on her own tail. The young dragon flipped, twisted, and somersaulted in a burst of motion as she tried to chase the appendage. "I'll...get...you!"

Zilarin Mintaka glanced up from her paperwork and noticed her daughter's display of childish energetics. Clearing her throat, the drakka looked across the room to where her mate was sitting. "Galon? Jarzyl seems bored. Do you want to take her out for a walk?"

"Hmm? Well since you ask, I'm indifferent but unopposed to the idea," replied Galon Mintaka without looking up. The drake was busy using his stone magic to carve a small block of stone. It was going to end up as a cup, but for now it still looked like a cube of rock. Carving was delicate work; it took great patience and concentration as he slowly chipped away at the stone with his claws, scraping away thin layers with each move. Strictly speaking, it was still possible to carve stone even if one didn't have stone magic, but nevertheless his mate had never shown much interest in picking up the hobby for herself. In Galon's opinion, Zilarin didn't know how much fun she was missing out on.

Jarzyl was still spinning in circles, twirling round and round endlessly as she tried to catch her tail. She wasn't watching her surroundings as she spun, and she ended up crashing headfirst into the wall. "Oh!!" exclaimed the hatchling as she dropped to the floor. Zilarin looked over to her daughter in concern, but Jarzyl just blinked and rubbed her nose with her paws. "Ow, ow, ow. I'm okay. I meant to do that. I did!" She jumped up from the ground, before leaping onto and somersaulting off from the wall, flinging her wings open in a flamboyant gesture. "Ta-dah! Take that, wall!"

Then she resumed whirling and chasing her tail. "RRRrrrRRRrrrRRRrrr!"

"Outstanding." Zilarin nodded, and then she stood up and walked over to the other side of the table. She cleared her throat again, louder this time, and gently took the stone cube from Galon's paws. "Let me rephrase. Jarzyl seems rather bored. We're going to take her out for a walk."

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. That's a great idea." Galon took his stone cube back from his mate and carefully placed it up on a shelf that jutted out from the wall, just high enough that a curious young hatchling couldn't reach it even by tiptoeing on her hindlimbs.

Noticing that her parents were standing up, Jarzyl whirled over in their general direction until she smashed into her mother's side. The hatchling wavered from left to right as she fought a wave of dizziness, then she shook her head and launched herself at her father's tail. Jarzyl still had at least a few years to go before she would hit the fledgling growth spurt and learn how to fly, so her whole body length was still barely a fifth of her parents'. Yet her miniscule size didn't stop her from trying to sink her teeth into her father's tail and endeavouring to tug him to the ground.

"You're...going...down!" she exclaimed, between unsuccessful attempts to pin down her father's tail with her forepaws. Galon started walking out of the living room and Jarzyl ended up pulled across the ground. She tried to hold on to her father's tail with her jaws and dig her claws into the floor, but without enough traction she ended up being dragged across the room behind him, sliding along on the tiles. She released his tail and scampered up onto his back, opting to switch tactics. "Ha! You're running away, so that means you're losing! I win!" declared the hatchling triumphantly, deciding to settle for a psychological victory.

"Yes, dear, very good. Now we're going to go for a walk, okay?" said Galon.

"Okay! Where we going? Are we going to the pools? Or the aerodrome? I like watching the airships fly."

"How about we just go visit the market?" Galon glanced to his mate for confirmation, and got a nod of agreement in reply.

"That works," said Zilarin. "We can look around the marketplace and find dinner. What do you think of that, Jarzyl?"

Jarzyl jumped off her father's back and trotted beside her parents as they entered their bedroom. "Okay!" chirped the hatchling. She liked the market. There were so many interesting things to see, and all sorts of strange smells and sounds to experience.

Galon started putting on his flight harness, which was a grid of leather straps and pouches that helped a dragon to carry things whilst walking or flying.

"Oh, hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!" Jarzyl jumped up and down excitedly. "Should I wear my harness too?"

"You don't have to," replied Galon. Flight harnesses were worn for convenience, not modesty, and if Jarzyl needed anything carried about she could just pass it to him or Zilarin.

That answer didn't satisfy the energetic hatchling. Jarzyl's neck frill drooped down around her head, and she turned to her mother, who was pulling on her own harness as well. If her parents we wearing their harnesses, she wanted to do so as well. "But I want to! Can I? Please? Please, please, plea--"

"If that's what you want, go ahead."

Jarzyl jumped onto her father's side and used his flight harness to clamber onto his shoulders. The hatchling flipped onto her back and pedalled all her legs forward and back. "Yes. Yeeesss!" She flipped back over and leapt off his back and across the room, bouncing off her mother's furled wings to land on the floor. The two adult dragons watched as their daughter scampered out of the room.

"How is it possible for one hatchling to have so much energy? Is there a medical condition for having extreme amounts of energy and being completely unable to sit still?" Galon asked.

"Yes, it's called being young," replied Zilarin. "One day Jarzyl will be all big and grown up, and you'll miss the days when she was small enough to climb on your back."

Jarzyl zipped back into the room, fully equipped with her own miniature harness in record time. "I am back! Did you guys miss me? I missed you," she chirped.

Her father patted Jarzyl affectionately on the head, ruffling her neck frill. He reached down to his flight harness and took out a pair of triangular flags made of cloth--his wing pennants--which he then attached to the tips of his wings. The pennants were dyed to a blue colour.

Jarzyl reared up on her hindlimbs and tried to bat at the pennants dangling from her father's wings. "Why are you wearing those? You only wear them when you're with mother."

"He wears them because I gave them to him, all those years ago." Zilarin reached over to a shelf and snatched up her own pair of pennants, which were coloured yellow-gold. "And then he gave me this pair of pennants in return. Can you guess why?"

Jarzyl tilted her little head as she considered the question. "Were you swapping presents? Pennants aren't good presents. You can't do anything with a pennant except wear it. That's boring."

Zilarin chuckled and swept her wing across Galon's back, letting her pennant slide over his scales. The triangular flag matched the colour of his scales exactly, just like how Galon's blue-coloured pennants matched her scales exactly. "These are mate pennants. We wear these as a symbol to the world that we're mates." The drakka swept her wing shut and looked at her daughter thoughtful. "Maybe one day when you're all grown up, you'll give someone a pair of orange pennants."

Jarzyl glanced down at all the orange-coloured scales covering her hide, then she shook her head. "No way! I don't want to be someone's mate. I amself-motivated! I can make it all alone!" she decided.

"That's what I thought when I was young too, until I met your mother and she stole away my illusion that I could be happy with solitude." Galon flicked his neck frill. "But you don't you worry about all that, Jarz. The future can wait."

He filled one of the pouches on his harness with money for the outing, which made Jarzyl nudge his leg with her nose. "Hey, what's that? What are you carrying? I want to carry something too!"

"Alright, here you go. This is for you," Galon said, giving her a single small coin that was minted in the shape of a hexagon. It was far from a fortune, but Jarzyl took it like she'd been handed all the wealth in the world.

"Gold! It's shiny! It's mine now. Allmine!Hehehe," cackled the hatchling. She clutched the coin to her chest, and then carefully slipped it into the harness pouch on her left shoulder. "Uh, is there anything else I can help carry?"

Zilarin chuckled at their young daughter's enthusiasm. She took Galon's stone cube from the shelf and handed it to the excited hatchling. "Why don't you carry this?" she suggested.

Jarzyl took the stone cube and carefully tried to squeeze it into one of harness pouches. It would only just barely fit into the largest pouch on her back. She appeared happy to carry the cube, even if it was just dead weight. "Okay! What is it? Is it a rock? It looks like a rock."

"It's one of you father's very important rocks--anartisticrock," explained Zilarin.

Galon didn't mind the playful jab about his enjoyment of artistry--it certainlywasan artistic rock. And the point of taking Jarzyl for a walk was to give her an outlet for all her energy, so letting her carry more weight would help. "Just don't lose it. It may just be a rock, but even a simple cube has aesthetic appeal."

"Huh? What's 'aesthetic appeal'?" asked Jarzyl.

Galon cocked his head and raised his neck frill as he thought about that question. "Aesthetic appeal means...being artistic and beautiful. Think about this: A cube is simple, symmetric, and the most basic building block. It has six different sides, all the exact same size, and each side has four edges, but they are all of the exact same length. It's symmetry within symmetry. That's art."

Imitating her father, Jarzyl tilted her head and raised her own neck frill. "Okay! Yes! I don't understand. How does that make it art?"

"It's very hard to explain exactly what art is. Even some adults still don't know how to fully appreciate art. But not me! I've got an eye for beautiful things," Galon replied, casually unfurling a wing and wrapping it around his mate's back.

Zilarin chuckled and licked the side of Galon's muzzle. "Speaking of which; after this walk and dinner, you and I should do some mutual appreciation of thesensualarts."

"I completely agree," said Galon, exchanging a lewd look with his mate.

"I still don't understand," said Jarzyl, looking very confused.

Galon smiled at her innocence. "It's a grown-up thing. All you need to know is that if you want to carry that cube, go ahead. Now, let's go."

Then the three of them set out, walking to the city centre and the marketplace.

---

Jarzyl pranced between her parents as they walked, taking five quick steps for every one of their strides. Far overhead, an airship flew above them, its thrusters making the air shimmer and distort around its metallic hull as the craft powered its way through the air. Jarzyl sprinted ahead excitedly as she tried to stay under the airship's shadow.

As she rushed ahead a bit too far, Galon used his magic to tug on the stone cube Jarzyl was carrying in her harness--just a gentle pull to remind her not to get too far from them. "Slow down, Jarzyl! Wait for us."

Jarzyl turned around obediently and trotted back to her parents, but as they approached the marketplace she jumped up onto her mother's back so she could see through the growing crowd. "I can smell the market! It smells like tasty. I like it. Tasty! Mmm."

A common sights in residential districts all across the City of Wings, the market square here was a large open-air area filled with stalls selling various goods. Jarzyl bounced up and down on her mother's shoulders. It always amazed her how the world could be so interesting. Commotion and activity everywhere! So many dragons! Traders were loudly hawking their wares, while merchants excitedly showed off their products. It was so noisy and crowded and colourful.

Dragons of all colours were walking around or browsing, looking at everything from food to healing crystals. There was so much to see! Tiny glittering gems embedded into jewellery. Intricate clockwork mechanisms that clicked and spun. New flight harnesses, boasting the latest designs and fashions. Snack food, freshly cooked and ready to be eaten. Puzzles, toys, games, newspapers, stationary, books, cleaning products, fresh produce, groceries, cakes, candy, soap--there was so much ofeverything!

Jarzyl jumped down and ran over to watch a street performer who was spinning a baton around his tail. The performer tossed the baton high in the air, ignited both ends with a precise blast of firebreath, and caught it with his tail again. Without a pause, he continued twirling the baton and spun it around with his forepaws as well, and then he flung it into the air again and hit it with a blast of frost, extinguishing the flames with an exhalation of icy magic.

"Wow! I want to learn how to dothat!" exclaimed Jarzyl, pointing as her parents came up behind her. She was still not even a fledgling, and dragons didn't develop their magical affinities until they reached at least thrice her age, but that didn't stop her imagining how fun it would be to breathe fire. She'd burneverything.

"Yes dear, perhaps if you get fire affinity." Zilarin turned to Galon. "It's my turn to cook today. I'll go look for groceries, and you can keep taking Jarzyl around the square?"

"Sure. See you back here in a while," agreed Galon.

Zilarin licked his neck affectionately. "What do you two want for dinner? Any opinions?"

Jarzyl was happy to express her preference for food. "Fried fish! Or fried chicken! I want to eat something fried. I'm hungry. Fried breakhorn. Fried cloud-whale."

"You can't eat fried food all the time. It's unhealthy and you'll end up fat," replied her mother.

"I need to get fat!" replied the hatchling, turning to stare at her own sides with a critical gaze. "I'm too thin--I'm not like you."

Zilarin raised an eye ridge. "Oh, you're saying that I'm not thin like you? So I'm fat?"

"No, you're not fat! You'remedium!" insisted Jarzyl, with the sort of innocent enthusiasm that only a hatchling could pull off. "Except maybe here...this part is a bit fat..." she added, pointing towards her mother's belly.

Galon did his best to keep a straight face, but his neck frill stood all the way upwards as he tried to avoid laughing. He hurriedly picked Jarzyl up and let her rest on his shoulder before she could point out more supposed flaws with her mother's figure. "Jarz! No, you're not allowed to say that! Don't call people fat."

Zilarin shook her head in an amused, exasperated manner. "Alright, I guess we're eating lean meat and extra healthy vegetables for dinner."

Galon responded by affectionately licking the side of his mate's snout. "Just so you know, I think you're perfectlymedium."

"Thanks. Your adoration keeps my self-esteem reinforced. I'll see you two later." Zilarin licked the side of Galon's snout, then she leaned over to Jarzyl and licked the little hatchling's whole neck, much to her embarrassment.

"Don't lick me! Being licked is for little hatchlings! I'm a big dragon! I can clean myself!" Jarzyl insisted. She raised her wing and waved goodbye as her mother vanished into the crowds.

Jarzyl kept watching the street performer twirl and throw his batons for a few minutes, but then she grew bored. She bounced up and down on her father's shoulder to get his attention. "Let's look at something else. Go that way, full ahead!" ordered the hatchling, pointing a tiny paw in the direction of another stall. Galon had recently bought her a children's book that talked about airships and how they worked, and Jarzyl liked to pretend that she was captain of one of the huge, floating, metallic craft.

"Full ahead means going straight ahead at full speed. We'll need to turn before we go straight if you want to go that way," explained her father.

"Oh, okay. Energize port thrusters!" declared Jarzyl.

"Isn't port to the left? Don't we want to go to the right?"

"Yeah! You energize the left thrusters to go right. Onwards! Ahead! Go!"

"Onwards." Galon turned and started walking towards the stall Jarzyl was pointing at. He sped up until they were going at a slow jog, smoothly bouncing between his four legs. Their target was a balloon stand with a large bundle of balloons floating in the air, each tied down with string. "We're getting close now. Don't you think we should slow down?" he asked as they approached.

"What? No...?! Never! No slowing down! Engines to ramming speeds! All crew brace for impact!" insisted Jarzyl. "Hehehe..." She giggled softly, and Galon felt her tiny claws prick his shoulder as she held on tight.

Despite Jarzyl's orders, Galon slowed down to a stroll and then stopped completely so he didn't walk right into the stand. "Sorry, the airship doesn't want a crash."

"Mutiny!Iam the shipmaster! Shipmaster says ramming speeds! Onwards, onwards!" ordered Jarzyl. When her father refused to ram himself into the stall, she jumped off his shoulder and trotted up to the stand. She put her forepaws up on the table and gazed up at all the balloons floating above the stand.

"Wow. Colours!" she chirped, staring up with a fascinated expression. Jarzyl started identifying the colours of each balloon, proudly demonstrating her knowledge of colours to everyone within earshot. "Red! Blue! Purpule...? No. Purp--purble...whatever. Indigo. Greeeen!"

The elderly merchant chuckled and bent his neck to smile at her. "You're a clever little one, aren't you? And what colour is this one?"

"Yellow! It's yellow." Jarzyl turned back to make sure her father was giving her his full attention. "Look, look! It's yellow, like you!"

"That's right, I've got gold scales," agreed her father. "Now which balloon is the same colour as your mother?"

Jarzyl paused for a moment, and then she pointed a claw towards a different balloon. "There, that one! It'sazurejust like how she is. It's not exactly the same colour, but almost."

"Yep. Now, which balloon is the same colour asyou?"

Jarzyl pointed her paw again. "That one! It'samber. I'm amber," declared the hatchling, proudly spreading her wings to show off her orange colouration. "I'm orange, like pumpkin and sunsets. And carrots, and carrot cake, and carrot juice. I'm hungry. There are so many colours! I want one. Can I have one? Please? I'll use my coin."

Galon flicked his neck frill and nodded his head. "Alright, Jarzyl, but only one."

"Yes! I want, uh..." Jarzyl ran around the stand, looking over the cluster of balloons to choose her favourite. If she only could have one balloon, then it had better be the best balloon. "That one!" she decided, pointing at a specific balloon that was a suitable orange and also pleasingly large.

The merchant untied the balloon, but he hesitated before handing it too her. "This one's a bit big for you. Maybe a smaller one? We can't have you floating away."

"No, I want that one. I want it." Jarzyl turned to her father for support, but disappointingly he also had an unsure expression on his face.