ORIGIN

Aurelle didn't much mind being sniffed. She wasn't a saint. She'd snuck a good whiff of lizard-smell once or twice in her life, often while Lichen was dead asleep and the elf was curled up next to her. It was a struggle to keep her hands to herself, though-- she was a touchy person, especially with people she liked, and she wanted nothing more than to pat and hug Lichen.

When Lichen spoke next, Aurelle said, "you should settle for a little longer." More a suggestion than a demand, really-- she didn't know how Lichen was feeling, and she didn't want to push her, either. "We can just sit and talk for a while if you'd like. There's no rush," she further assured.

Then, she gently tapped Lichen's nose. She wasn't a saint, after all.

Aurelle smiled, genuinely-- and even though it'd never been seen, it was heard in her voice. "I've never really had anyone around so often and so closely before you, either," she said. "I'd meet some others in passing, say hello, share some food and water, but they'd always go somewhere else eventually."

"And..." she faltered, humming softly as she considered how to articulate what she felt. "I suppose... I'd never met anyone who was like me before I met you."

'Differently abled,' some might say. Aurelle didn't name it at all, because she was fairly certain Lichen knew what it was like. To have people not understand you and what you need: to have them be frustrated when you have to do things differently, or that you might not have enough energy to do the things that the sighted can do, because you've spent all your wakeful time trying to navigate your own den.

Some people had even tried to 'fix' her. Like there were something wrong with her, instead of just accepting that her needs weren't the same as their own.

"I don't think it'd be the same if I hadn't met you, either," she said softly. "Even if I'd met someone else who was blind. They wouldn't be you. I don't think I'd be friends with them the same way that I'm friends with you."

I wish I could hug her, came a bitter thought. She kept her hands to herself, though. "Do you remember what the people you met before were like?"

Aurelle let out a soft, bubbling snrrkk of laughter. "They're all missing out," she agreed. "We're great." She meant that, too.

The idea that Lichen had been anything other than Lichen-sized was, to Aurelle, also a little preposterous. That said, she had no idea how large other dragons tended to be on average either, and she might have pestered Lichen (good-naturedly, of course) about always being short otherwise.

When the dragon nosed her shin, Aurelle reached out on instinct, cracking a pin feather on the back of Lichen's head out of its keratin sheath and gently twisting it free for her. She hummed thoughtfully.

"I met a dog, once," she said. "They said they turned on all the lights in the cave and saved everyone from murderous geese, I think. It's a little hard to remember, too, because it's been so long. I thought they were lying about the lights, though-- until someone else told me that when they woke up, the caves had been engulfed in total darkness."

A beat. "I wonder if they were telling the truth about the geese, too," she added, and then continued chattering softly at Lichen. "I've heard a lot of stories, I suppose. I heard from someone who lived in, ahh... I think it was Canis, that there was a dog that lived through a rebellion long ago, too. That she and her friends had to hide from people in the dark."

Aurelle blinked. "I'm rambling a little, sorry. What was the one smaller than you like?"

"I think it's over now," Aurelle quickly reassured. "And there are lights. They switch on and off sometimes, but apparently back then they were off all the time until someone put them back on. I saw them when I'd first woken up as a kid, before my eyes stopped working."

They were pretty, but hard to look at. Even now, Aurelle could just about make out when it was light or dark in a room, and she much preferred when the lights weren't burning into her eyes.

"The rebellion was a really long time ago," she reassured again. "I think we would have heard if it were still going on, wouldn't we? People would be hiding, or coming by to ask where people were hiding. People just leave us alone to live, so it must be okay."

It was sound logic, according to her, at least.

She cracked another pin feather on Lichen's crest. "I do wonder what they were rebelling for, though," she said. "But we haven't done anything bad, I think, so no one will be angry that we're sitting here."

"Well, whoever they were rebelling against didn't like it, I suppose. Maybe the violence was why they rebelled," Aurelle offered. When Lichen ground her beak again, she added a second hand into the fray: gently coming through the back of Lichen's skull through her crest until her fingertips found a dry pin and gently twisting the keratin off.

She hummed. "It's never too late. If you really regret not knowing, then maybe we can do things to get more involved with other people, so that we don't regret it in the future," she said, wisely. "Maybe doing little jobs and eating for coins is a good start. Maybe we'll meet more people that way."

They weren't exactly socialites, being cooped up in Orion most of the day.

Aurelle didn't quite hesitate as much when Lichen asked her next question. "I didn't really like it," she admitted. "It's so... hm. I don't know, it's just a lot. The only times I miss it is when people talk about the pretty things they saw, but I think that's more... it feels like they're bragging and I don't like that feeling it gives me, I suppose."

When she found a still-soft pin feather, she smoothed down the feathers around it to let it grow. "I wouldn't go back, though. You couldn't give me all the food in the world to give me my eyes back. I like the way I am, and I quite like the way you are, too. I hope you feel the same."