One-shots of Vernada

[Ranger of the North]

Tēnā koutou!

Welcome! In September of 2015,
Wren and I started out on an epic
adventure; a collaboration, a book
we called Misfits of Vernada.




Now, over two years later, since we're
both in especially-write-y moods, we've
decided to revisit old friends with
drabbles and short-stories.




All entries will be canon, unless
specifically stated.



Feel free to post! Image links to the artist.

Table of Contents

Origins
The first fragment — Flare
Whispers
The second fragment — Moon
The third fragment — Zappy
Stars

[Ranger of the North]

Reserved

(Moon = #250033

Zappy = #8F6F07 & #AD8708)

[Woogwoo Wren]

reserved.

[Ranger of the North]

Begun: 23/03/18. Completed: 25/03/18.

xxxxxWhen he was six months old and the world was a network of caves that unfolded like a blossom beneath his claws, and he was too innocent to understand how twisted and ugly the world could be, the little dragon escaped.
xxxxxIt wasn’t far, of course. He was too young for that. But for him it was enough.
xxxxxWith a sidekick watching his back and adventure in his heart, he made his way through the mountain’s winding tunnels unobserved, and suddenly the big wide world spread like a painting below his rock, and his jaw almost dropped from the cliff.
xxxxxIt was beautiful. A storm hung low to the horizon, lightning flickering in a deadly dance from cloud-to-cloud or cloud-to-tree. The forest burned golden-green below against the dark rock of the mountain, and his eyes grew and grew — and grew — until he thought they would surely swallow the world whole. Glistening spears flew from the clouds’ swollen mass, and the dying sun burnt hotter than the brightest fire.
xxxxxHe couldn’t breathe. Oxygen stuck fast in the chest that would one day bring roaring infernos to life in a single breath, and he gasped.
xxxxxLater, after the two had snuck back furtive as thieves, the blinding image of the World refused to be dimmed. It seared his brain like a hot coal, haunted his dreams as he slept, and flared to life in all its beautiful, blazing glory when he blinked.
xxxxxIt was love at first sight and would not be denied.
xxxxxFinally, desperately, after what seemed weeks of restless nights and empty days, he tore through the picture-archives. Plants, animals, monsters, rocks — he tossed them aside like offal. Astrology, winged creatures, beasts of the sea — he would have torn them up with eager claws had there not been repercussions.
xxxxxAt last he found it — treasure, at least to a mind of few adventures and fewer months. A simple illustration in a scroll titled ‘Storms’ — although the scrawl was meaningless to him. Clouds loomed mountain-high, hugging the earth desperately with blinding white fingers. Two words wound flower-quaint beneath the image, and the hatchling’s heart leapt.
xxxxxEagerly, he dragged the page to one much older than him, one bleached of colour and near featureless, but unique inside.
xxxxxShe didn’t understand him at first, until he was ready to incinerate the page with frustration — if only his tongue would obey! But at last:
xxxxx“Ah!” He would remember the way she spoke to the day of his death. “That’s a storm, my pet.”
xxxxxHe crowed wildly, nearly flipping over his tail in sheer delight. Moon, his nest-sister, stumbled back in alarm. With trembling gestures, he made the mentor-under-the-mountains understand that that was who he wanted to be — that it was who he was.
xxxxxHe would be able to keep the reminder of his first outside experience close to his heart forever.
xxxxx“Are you sure? But small one, you’re so young,” she protested doubtfully, at first reluctant to concede. But the little dragon was adamant and the little dragon was stubborn and he refused to back down.
xxxxxFinally, she sighed and conceded, and lay on the floor beside the smaller colourless ones to examine their book. She laughed softly at the rapt attention on their faces.
xxxxx“These ones here? They’re clouds,” she explained with one claw. “They make lightning.”
xxxxx“Lie-ng!” Moon exclaimed happily. It was fun to say.
xxxxx“Yes, baby one — zap-boom!” The hatchlings giggled, and she flexed her claws suggestively. They danced out of reach, nearly tripping over their own snouts and tails as giggles poured out in ceaseless waves.
xxxxx“Zappityzap — kaboom!” She leapt, tail lashing, and caught one to tickled him relentlessly for a moment or two.
xxxxx“Zappityboom!” Unfurling her wings in one lightning-fast movement, she flew across the otherside of the room and snagged the other, dragging her to the ground and tickling for all she was worth.
xxxxx“Zappy-zap!” He squealed in excitement, and scuttled across the room as fast as his stubby legs would go to tackle the larger dragon.
xxxxxHe never forgot that day. When he saw the NoColour he zappy-zaped explosively, and when the notion struck him with Moon, he zappy-zaped and tickled — but that never ended well. He took to ambushing other dragons in the caves, bursting from hiding with an ear-splitting, “Zappy-zap!”
xxxxxSurrounded by little ones who didn’t know any better, and big ones who didn’t care, he soon became known as simply Zappy, and ‘Storm’ was soon forgotten.

[ArtsheepNZ]

[Ranger of the North]

XD hello again!

[Ranger of the North]

25/03/18

The first fragment — Flare

xxxxxShe was a dragon with fire in her eyes and flames on her claws. She was fire with hot blood running through living veins and she was fierce and she was a predator and she was beautiful.

[Woogwoo Wren]

Whispers

xxxHe was surrounded by whispers from the day he had hatched. The dragons around him, muttering that he was a half-breed, a hybrid - a freak.
xxxWhen he was younger, he didn’t care. He wrestled with his sister, he listened to stories, he played with the other dragons who had hatched with the Misfits. No one cared that he was different at that age - no one could see how different he was. To the other hatchlings, he was one of them, a featureless, white dragon who would laugh and play with his friends.
xxxBut as he grew older, he noticed the whispers more. He noticed the sidelong glances he was given. He heard the soft mutters among the adults as he passed.
xxx“Am I different?” the young dragon asked his mother, as he curled up in his nest one evening. His colour was just beginning to show, a deep, dark green taking over the pure white of youth.
xxxHis mother was silent for a long moment, then she sighed, moving forward and wrapping her tail around him. He curled close to her, enjoying the warmth she radiated.
xxx“You are different - you’re special, Darkfire,” she said quietly. “You know that your father and I aren’t the same?” Darkfire nodded - his mother was a small, pale green Sharpshooter and his father a large, loud and playful deep blue Stormrider. “Well,” his mother continued. “Some dragons don’t think we should have mated.”
xxx“Why not?” he asked, his childhood curiosity aroused.
xxx“Because outside, in the world, our tribes are at war. Some dragons think that just because we’re different we shouldn’t be friends, shouldn’t be mates.”
xxxDarkfire frowned, rolling onto his back and staring up at his mother’s wings, spread out above him. xxx“That’s silly,” he said.
xxxHis mother chuckled, nuzzling him affectionately.
xxx“I know baby, but that’s just the way the world is.”

xxxThe whispers grew even more as he got older and his body began to change. He was as excited as his peers when they began to change, to colour, to receive the attributes of their tribe.
xxxBut Darkfire was different. At first, when he began to grow blades along his tail, he thought he would look like his mother. Then, when a horn began to appear on his head, he thought he would look like his father. But as the whispers grew with him, he realised he was different. He was new.
xxxHe pretended he didn’t mind the whispers as he laughed with his friends and learned the tricks of flight. He pretended he didn’t care about the odd looks as he wrestled with his sister and learned to fight like a warrior. He pretended he didn’t mind that he was different as he played like a child and learned to be a dragon.
xxxThen the war arrived, and he forgot he was different for a moment.
xxxIt was a normal day, and he was sitting on a tree branch with the other young hatchlings, listening to their teacher as she taught them how to breathe their fire the hottest and furthest they could. Then suddenly, with a woosh and a burst of flames, the world exploded.
xxxDarkfire found himself under his sister’s wings as she sheltered him from the fire and claws of the invading dragons. He didn’t see much, fire, scales, claws. Then they were inside, sheltering in a small hollow tree.
xxxHe pushed himself away from Primrose’s pink wings and slowly crept towards the entrance. He had to see - had to know what was happening. More young dragons were rushing into the tree, NoColours and those with colour alike. Darkfire found himself pushed to the back, where he crouched beside Primrose.
xxx“What’s happening?” he asked, looking up at his older sister. She would know. She would protect him.
xxx“I-I don’t know,” she whispered. Her tail and wings were curled around her and suddenly Darkfire felt even more terrified. “I - I think the Stormriders have found where we live. Popa’s always been saying we shouldn’t live so close to Militia.” She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. “Sorry,” she said softly. “I -it’ll be okay, okay?”
xxxDarkfire nodded, but he had seen the fear in her eyes. It wasn’t going to be okay.
xxxThey stayed there, the young dragons huddled together in fear, listening to the roars and bellows around them. Darkfire pressed himself into Primrose, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing more than anything that the roaring would stop and the whispering was all that he feared.
xxxThen he heard it - a bellow in pain he knew. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes locking with his sister’s. That was their mother.
xxxThey pushed their way through the crowd together, leaping out of the tree. Darkfire froze once they left the relative safety, staring around him at what faced him. Dragons were snarling, snapping at each other. Fire was licking at the trees. The sharp smell of blood filled his nostrils. He was unable to move, staring around him at the chaos.
xxxThen he heard the roar again and tore his attention away from the battle to find his mother. She was lying pinned under a huge red dragon. Darkfire couldn’t think, didn’t have time. He launched himself forward, roaring as loudly as he could and letting fire flicker in his chest.
xxxThe Stormrider turned to face him, and a scornful snarl covered his face.
xxx“What are you?” he demanded. Darkfire landed before him, dwarfed by the much larger dragon. He swallowed his fear, trying to stop his shaking.
xxx“I’m a dragon,” he said shakily. “And you’re hurting my mother.”
xxxThe other dragon laughed harshly, stepping forward.
xxx"You’re a child - a halfbreed. Weak. Pathetic. The spawn of betrayal.”
xxx“No,” Darkfire said, his voice shaking slightly. “I’m the spawn of love. And - and I’m not going to be ashamed because I’m different. So stop it. Stop this war - or at least leave us out of it.” He felt tears prick his eyes and blinked, trying to keep them back.
xxx“Ha! A weak, stupid hatchling.” The Stormrider opened his mouth and a burst of warm air flooded over him. He flinched, fighting the urge to stop back - to run to safety. “I won’t kill you - you’re just a child - but maybe I’ll give you something to remember me by.” And he leapt forward.
xxxDarkfire dropped to the ground, curling his tail around him and squeezing his eyes shut. There was a sickening slash, a thud, then suddenly warm wings were wrapped around him.
xxxHe slowed opened his eyes, facing his mother’s worried expression.
xxx“You shouldn’t have done that, baby,” she whispered. Darkfire didn’t answer, the tears beginning to fall now. He burrowed into his mother’s scales, feeling her warmth and crying softly.
xxxThe invaders were soon driven off with limited casualties. Darkfire remained close to his mother, not wanting to leave her warmth and safety. But as the tribe began to move deeper into the WildWoods, looking for a new home, he noticed the whispers again.
xxxThis time, however, they weren’t about his looks. They weren’t about his parentage. They were about him.
xxx“Did you see how he stood up to that Stormrider?”
xxx“He could have been killed.”
xxx“It was a stupid thing to do, but brave.”
xxx“Little Darkfire there saved his mother’s life.”
xxxHe was unsure how to react to the different kind of whispers. Primrose, seeing his confusion, curled up beside him as they rested for the night.
xxx“They’re proud of you,” she said softly.
xxx“Why?” Darkfire asked. He was still scared, still expecting huge dragons to burst out of the silent night sky. But, nestled between his mother’s sleeping form and his sister’s comforting shape, his father keeping watch nearby, he felt safe.
xxx“Because you did something amazing,” she said. “You stood up to a dragon twice your size - and won!”
xxx“I didn’t. He - he would have killed me.” He sighed, dropping his eyes. “I’m only still alive because Mama saved me.”
xxx“You saved her. I couldn’t do anything - I was frozen. But you, you were brave. You saved Mama.”
xxx“I wish they would stop talking about me,” he whimpered. Primrose sighed.
xxx“You’re different - other dragons want to be a part of that. So they talk, they whisper. But they’ll forget. One day, you won’t be the only Stormshooter. One day, they’ll forget how brave you were. One day, you’ll just be Darkfire.”
xxx“I want that,” he said sleepily. “I hope there’ll be peace in my lifetime.”
xxxPrimrose smiled, looking down at her brother as he began to drift off to sleep.
xxx“Maybe you’ll be the one to bring the peace,” she said softly.

[Ranger of the North]

25/03/18

The second fragment — Moon

xxxxxShe was dark and light in a never-ending battle; she was stars gleaming hope in the blackest of night, and she was the dark ash of depression on a sun-kissed day. She was blood and she was fury and she was regret and she was strength and she was love and she was true.

[sparrow;]

I read MoV ages ago and I don't remember all of it, but I'm definitely reading these anyway c: Good so far!