Ama Pomingo
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The Billough War
There weren't always dragons in the valley. I remember the day they arrived in all their pompous and supposed glory. Caravan after caravan came floating in the sky in every conceivable color and adorned with gold embellishments that wove from the edges to the center and culminated in various family crests. As if any of the Fae would have recognized them. Us "blue flies" as the upper-class kin so kindly refer to us don't care for stores of valuables; in our experience, riches like that are a curse. I've never met a wealthy kin who wasn't miserable with paranoia or pride. Still, seeing so many vibrant colors flying overhead our little corner of the Billoughs was a captivating experience. Like a flock of huge exotic birds. If that had been the only experience of Dragonkin I'd had, I'd have held them in a much more gracious view. Unfortunately, those beautiful caravans carried hundreds of entitled, powerful kin who were no doubt looking down at us and speculating about how we could best be put to use in their service.
By Ama Pomingo4 years ago in Fiction
