Wings Of Fire Oneshots

Listener ew (💔🗯)

Whiteout was all by herself in the art room, painting a landscape. It was coming along quite nicely as well. She remembered visiting the Sky Kingdom with her mother and brother when they were both young, taking in all of the sights and smells. It was unforgettable to see the tall spires that pieced through the clouds or the trees that spouted like mere weeds from the ground.

She was inspired by it, wanting to make it a permanent memory. Even after the school day was finished, she'd stay in and work on her project. Her teacher, Lightweaver, was perfectly fine with it all. Whiteout was a good dragonet.

While she didn't enjoy school all the time, it was safe in the art room. She wouldn't be bothered for how she would speak and how loud the others could be at times. She adored painting at home, but with... recent events happening she found it being more peaceful here.

It was perfect. Alone and completely absorbed into her work, doing everything to make everything as neat and tidy as possible-

"Uh, Whiteout?"

A new voice. She recognized it, her mind immediately covering that pitch and tone into a taste. A lemon, acidic and not too great on its own.

Ignoring her knee-jerk reaction, she looked over towards the NightWing.

"Good afternoon, Listener," she greeted.

The dark red dragon looked around the classroom. "Wow, is it always this empty?"

Whiteout titled her head, confused by the question. "It's... after school hours, is it not? I'd be the only dragon in here."

"I know, but there's nothing of note. No books, signs, anything. Kind of bland, except for the paintings, of course."

The two dragons stared at each other, both not daring to make a sound. It was awkward and tense for the hybrid, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

"So, Clearsight wanted me to ask something from you. It's Darkstalker's hatchingday and all that's coming up."

"And my own," she said.

"Yeah, I know, but Clearsight asked about Darkstalker. For some reason he couldn't ask him herself and wanted me to come to you for these questions. Makes no sense, right? She could just ask him for what he wants."

"Clearsight likes surprising him," she said. "I would also say that she likes having choices chosen for her at times rather than stressing over what to say to get my brother what he wants. It would ruin the surprise too if he was asked for what he wanted."

"Yeah yeah, right. You say that as though both of them could be surprised by anything."

Whiteout turned from her work, fidgeting with the paintbrush in her talons. "So... you came to ask me what he wanted for his birthday?"

"Just anything he likes, that's what she asked for. You're the dragon he knows the most after all, more than his own girlfriend. Surprising for how he's constantly hovering around her and his need to be there for every choice she makes."

Whiteout let out a small sigh, hoping she wouldn't notice. "My brother likes wearing jewelry from time to time. Earrings, rings, I believe he's told me about liking crowns."

"As expected with him..."

She bit her lip. "He also likes blankets. Him and I get cold a lot and he feels comfortable under them. He describes it like getting a hug."

"Alright, blankets and jewelry? Is that it?" Listener asked.

Whiteout wanted to say more, but what she wanted even more was for her to leave. "That's about it."

"Dragon of few tastes, huh?" She scoffed. The two stood silently once more, Listener leaning over to observe Whiteout's painting.

"Wow!" she whispered. "Are those the Claws of the Clouds?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, she looked back at it as if to confirm. "Yes. It is."

"That's really cool," she said, walking over to admire it more. "It's like it's really there."

Delighted by the compliment, yet confused by how she was acting. "Thank you," she mustered.

"Though, it looks like there's a couple smudges here and the trees aren't the best... Plus those dragons don't really have eyes or scales yet."

"It- it's still in progress... I'm not done with it yet."

"Oh, sorry! You're super talented though. You're a very special dragon."

"With... my painting?"

"Yeah yeah! W- with your painting and such. Really great artwork, mh-hm. Is there... never mind it's a dumb question."

Whiteout just looked at the ground. "Well, uh... thank you."

"Yeah no problem! Thanks for the question. Now you can get back to... drawing your thing."

She stared at her paintbrush. "Thanks..."

And with that, just as quickly as she came, she was gone. A small conversation, yes, but one of many with her that felt... off.

Disingenuous, even with her compliments. She had an aura to her that radiated a certain feeling, one that told her that she didn't exactly see her as one another.

Then again, being called 'Weirdout' a lot when she was younger made her true feelings more clear.

That same lemon-like feeling with her never faded or gotten sweeter. Perhaps she gotten better at hiding her feelings.

But, she was used of it. It stung, but she's come to accept it now. This is who she is. She's the dragon who speaks weird and, despite not talking about it much, thinks and perceives things in 'abnromal' ways.

So, with a heavier heart, she turned back to her painting. The unfinished flaws were more apparent now, but she felt less motivated to fix it. A part of her almost wanted to just... scrap it entirely.

Yet, she held up her brush and began to paint again. Just like everything else in her life, she pressed on, hoping for something better to happen by the end of it all.