C. Martin Thornton

Saccades

In spoken Romancy, the word "dragon" in its most literal definitions, means "non-living", or "un-alive". This was a fact that somewhat perplexed Iris, as she didn't recall feeling particularly "un-alive". As far as she was concerned, she was more alive than anyone. Especially, she was more alive than the little mortal things that defined her that way. The peoples of Roma, always so quick and desperate to define. Everything always had to be dangerous, or ancient, or foreign. They loved their definitions, even for the things they didn’t understand. Things like Iris. She was older than them, stranger than them too. A piece of the old world itself. But the peoples of Roma had their ways and Iris had hers. She was not one of them, of course. She was, as they say, a dragon; one of only four. Moreover, she was the oldest dragon, the first one. That made her the oldest thing of all things. However the little mortals chose to define her, that was their business. She knew what she was, and she knew her mission. She was blessed with it, burdened with it, even before her first moment in this world. Those misguided mortal things that so misunderstood her were actually under her sworn protection. Yes, that was her mission. They were her mission. Her blessing and her burden. She was created, just like her sister and two brothers, to cradle and protect mortal life. A weighty design to be sure, but one she was more than capable of fulfilling. She had a purpose. It was something she carried in her bosom with pride, even if the little people on the ground didn’t know it. It was enough for her to know.