This Teacup Dragon lives in ditches and in the corners of old fields where coltsfoot flowers can be found growing right after the snow has melted. It is superb at hiding amongst the old damp leaves left freezing under the snow since winter and its thick hide shields it from the cold on the ground.
Based on this flower: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BePz4KWfXDg/T ... 143628.JPG
Congratulations Evelyne who is now the new owner of this Teacup dragon.
Evelyne wrote:Username:
Evelyne
Dragons name:
Marcus
Gender:
male (lil' manly man, with flowers on his tail) "don't use sarcasm on me!" (i will if i want to.)
Personality:
Innovative he can make the best out of a bad situation. using a few spare parts, he can create almost anything- and normaly ends up solving the problem entirely.
Clever at least, he thinks he is. well, he really is rather smart. however, some concepts are lost on him- mainly sarcasm, irony, and 'tough love'
sweet he's a kind hearted little sap. "sap?!" (see, this what i mean. i used the term endearingly, and he goes and get offended.) anyway, he is just the kindest little thing, fixing up the leaves he moves when he burrows down. marcus will tidy up anything, and goes out of his way to be kind to everything. unfortunately, if he talks to the wrong people, he can be walked all over.
curious he scavenges some odd things while he moves around- books, poems, trinkets. he learns little things, like a sentence, and repeats it later. sometimes, when he finds objects he doesn't know how to use, he takes them home and examens them. this normaly leads to him 'tinkering' with the toy... and destroying it completely. of course, he does build a new one out of the scraps... but it's not the same.
Short story about how you, or someone else, found this dragon (no word limit):the day was fair, for a spring day. the sky had a painted look- a swirl of blues and whites too delecate to be real. the temperature had finally broken above the fourty degree mark. i had only a light jacket on, a vibrant maroon fleece that was a bit short on the sleeves. it stood out against the dead, brown trees, and the robbin's egg blue sky. overall, it seemed like a fantastic day.
"i'm going on a hike," i shout to my family, before ducking out the door. my dad liked action, and it was either go on a walk by myself- or mow the lawn. he didn't care if i left with no warning.
before i leave the driveway, i tuck my paper and pencil into my pocket. i had been in an artists slump, and hoped something would inspire me. a Muse could strike at any time. after zipping up my pocket, i turn onto the street. my rubber shoes ate up the asphault, and i sped down the road, reaching the power lines.
the road was intersected by a feild of powerlines that spanned cities. turning onto the ground, i felt the terrain change. a few muddy puddles dotted the gravel road in the valleys, interupted by the tops of the hills that lurched along with the power line wires. the feild was filled with brambles, and tall grass all the same shade of yellow-brown. nothing. on the bright side, i wasn't even a quarter way through the walk. my destination was the woods, by the river shore. i was hoping to spot some flower bulbs, or maybe an Iron wood tree. they were my favorite- looking like liquid metal, and feeling harder than steel.
the gravel road became split in half by muddy grass- only visible due to tire tracks. a few rut's appeared along the side, full of something darker green than everything else.
i lean in, simultainiously unzipping my pocket for my paper. maybe there was a plant i could draw. looking down, it was a small patch of flowers. they looked like dandilions, but no such flower had bloomed yet. too early, too cold.
the flowers apparently didn't care- the pushed out of a patch of rotted leaves like a golden crown. or afro, the more i thought on it. it was better than nothing- i kneeled down for a quick sketch.
my one true regret was that i couldn't bring colors. the pencil captured the shape of the flower in seconds- but the grey color of graphite made it look like a poorly drawn explosion. frustrated, i fold up the paper and sit down on a patch of dry grass. i start picking through the leaves absentmindedly, maybe looking for something else to draw. i see a rustle out of the corner of my eye. i look at the leaf pile again. one leaf is too long. it's not even a leaf shape!
slowly, as if a fraid it might bite, i move my fingers to the long 'stem' of the 'leaf'. gently, i place one finger on it, feeling a tight bundle of muscle under my nail. not a leaf.
the pile explodes to life, and a tiny tornado springs to action in front of my hand. a small animal thrashes about, trying to free it's tail from my grip. i scream.
"sorry! sorry! please let go- i'll go away now!" a voice says.
i scream again, looking at the shape that had stopped writhing. it was a lean shape, with a long apendage i had eyed with envy- wings. it was a dragon.
the dragon was only the size of my hand- a few inches bigger in wingspan, and longer if you counted the tail. timmidly, i lift uf my finger. it stares at me for a few seconds. then, without further hesitation, it runs into the coltsfoot plant again.
"come back!" i say. "you're amazing!"
it sticks it's head out. "really?"
"thre aren;t many dragons that i see," i reply in earnest. my fingers fumble along my zipper with a mind of their own. i pull out my paper and pencil once more.
"what are those?" it asks. i can tell from the sound now, that the dragon is a boy.
"paper and pencil, i use them to draw. don't you know how to draw?" i ask.
he shakes his head, and inches closer to me.
"whats your name?" i inquire, already sketching out the harsh lines of his tiny face.
"marcus." he reply's, and i capture his neck in a few sweeps of the wrist.
"well then, marcus, i think we have quite a lot to talk about," i say, as he hop's onto my shoulder, and we continue on my walk.
