“Deacon…? You’re up late.”

The waves of water within the Grand Pool lazily splashed against the structure’s walls, uncharacteristically devoid of life swimming through it. Illuminated by the moon, the restless and pure waters of Tlalocoatl reflected in the glasses of the young, aspiring snake priest. Its beauty and silent song was soothing, and even the startling, gravel-deep voice of his own Father could not take away from it.

“Ah, yes,” He said, mustering a small smile to his Father. “I was…feeling restless. Couldn’t sleep. I decided to come here and meditate.”

The Bishop, a tall, imposing Dragon of the Sea, crosses his arms under his chest and lays a scrutinous eye upon his Son. “They say ‘No rest for the wicked’, but you are one of the purest souls I know. What could be ailing you, my Son?”

“...I suppose it’s the future.” Deacon says, taking his attention off his behemoth of a Father and looking towards the Grand Pool.

“The future?” parroted the Bishop. “But you’re still so young. Why would such a thing perturb you?”

“...I know it shouldn’t, but…I can’t help but think about it. Sure, I can support myself with my job at the gym, and sure I can transition to full-time work, but when it comes to matters of faith, I feel like I preach to a choir of corpses.” Deacon’s hood lowers as he chuckles at himself. “...No, that’s inaccurate. Corpses have the decency not to laugh at me when I preach.”

The seated Deacon felt the ground ripple as the Bishop took a seat next to him. Even seated, Deacon felt small next to his towering Father. For a moment, the only sound between them was water crashing upon stone…it was a serene sound compared to the thoughts of inadequacy roaring within Deacon’s mind.

“Deacon,” The Bishop finally said. “Why do you want to be a priest?”

Deacon’s hood perked at the question. He looked at his Father incredulously.

“Wh- Why?” balked Deacon. “I want to spread the word of Tlalocoatl, like you have! He’s done so much for us all that I want others to feel the Love of our Lord as well!”

The Bishop looked at his son. Rarely did his face ever stray from that focused gaze, but Deacon could see his father curve his mouth into a smirk before he spoke.

“...I’ve always known you were a devout follower, but never in my life had I expected you to be so brash.”

“B-brash?” asked a clearly hurt Deacon.

“I’m not sure what else I would call ‘Preaching to a world from His ivory tower’. Your vigor is admirable, but I am fairly certain you’ve not had enough experience to take on such a task.”

The tip of Deacon’s crescent tail slapped the ground as Deacon side-eyed his own father. “...Does operating a cell phone count?” sniped the younger reptile. “If so, I can say that is something I know better than you.”

The Bishop chuckled as he continued. “Deacon, do you remember the Three Principles of Tlalocoatl?”

Deacon unfurrowed his brow as his mind returned to his God. “ ‘Be generous with the River's Gift, Purge evil from body and mind, and Guide the Misguided,’ ” he recited perfectly. “...Father, what does this have to do with being a Priest?”

A large arm reached around, and hugged around Deacon’s shoulders, pulling him closer to the Bishop. A wistful sigh escaped the elder reptile as he looked at the water at their feet.

“...I know that, to you, and everyone here, I may seem invincible. Through size and experience, I’ve guided many through terrible turmoils both internal and external. This was not always the case. Long before I took up the robe, faith in ANY God was the furthest thing from my mind.” Another chuckle escaped him, this time it felt much more melancholic than before. “Being ‘generous’...I was more generous with booze than I was with anyone’s gift, let alone Tlalocoatl. I was the misguided one…and yet, here I am.”

Deacon looked at his father incredulously. The thought of The Bishop, a dragon known only by his title and the leader of this great Faith could have been anything less than devoted was more than shocking. As much as Deacon wanted to question this, The Bishop continued, watching his past through the unrestful waters before them.

“My path was never set for me. The love you are surrounded with was…absent in my life. To say that I found Tlalocoatl is incorrect. Tlalocoatl found me in my darkest hour, and has found many others before us, after us, and with us now.”

The Bishop’s head turns to Deacon’s, locking eyes with his son.

“I have done my best to give you a Home I’ve never had. I’ve imparted my teachings to you time and time again…but I am not you, Deacon. There are some things you must learn yourself.”

The silence between them was louder than the fluctuating waves within the Temple for the younger reptile. His mouth attempted to find the proper words, and he failed every time. Eventually, Deacon decided that there were no right words for this, and spoke from his heart instead of his mind.

“...What if I never find out what I’m meant to be?”

The water of the pool’s endless movement finally ceased. The splashing against the pool ended, leaving both father and son truly alone together for the first time tonight.

“...The path to finding oneself is seldom easy,” mused the Bishop, his eyes locked on the calming body of water. At sea, in my lonesome I often thought to myself: ‘Am I good enough?’, ‘Can I even do better?’, ‘Is this a lost cause...?’, “What’s the point…?’ ” The Bishop’s voice trails off, leaving Deacon to wait in a stunned silence for his Father to regain his train of thought. “...Even now, I struggle to put away my fears. But when I look at you, Deacon…I see something I could never have.”

“I do…?” Deacon asked, his eyes widening as he waited for the answer.

“Opportunity. Your path may not be visible to you now, but believe me - it is only because every way you walk will end in a future so bright that it’s blinding.”

The Bishop. Deacon’s Father. A Dragon as large, intimidating, and scar-ridden as he commanded respect with a mere look from his stern gaze and booming voice, when he decided to raise it. Many considered him to be the Rock holding the Holy River Covenant together, including Deacon himself. And yet, the Bishop sat here, unveiling the insecurities that his stony demeanor kept well hidden, to a son who had yet to understand what surrounded him.

It was funny how things worked in this World.

“...I can’t even imagine you drinking.” Deacon finally said.

The Bishop paused, then offered a small smile. “Neither can I, anymore. Guess I never learned my limit before I stopped.”
“Maybe that’s how you got all those scars…?”

The Bishop was silent, before breaking out in laughter. “Just maybe.”

Deacon smiled too, breathing out a sigh of relief. He glanced at his Father, lost in the water with a gentle look on his face. He was a man of few words, but everything he said came from the bottom of his heart. Deacon knew that if his Father believed in him, then perhaps he really had nothing to fear.

Everyone needs a break, right? Even powerful Dragons need a break from the ills of life. The problem is that there's always someone barging into their life to cause a problem. Will Sable be able to get rid of the problem before it's back to work?

A small story featuring one of my new OCs, Sable the Dragon, in my setting Charlottesburg. It's more of an intro to her, and showing you all what she's about, so enjoy!

can be read here, my FA, or my AO3

~ ! ~

If there was anything that Sable enjoyed, it was coffee. Forged from the blood of beans and mixed into a drink that fooled the brain into thinking it provided the energy it deserved. In that aspect, the long-lived Dragoness was a Jester in the sense that the concept of ‘rest’ was a recurring joke. And the coffee? Merely a courtesy. She had found a way to stave off sleep long before she stepped into this cursed town.

To call Charlottesburg cursed is, sadly, the most apt descriptor. The air and weather was the perfect mix of hot and humid to make her magnificent brown scales glisten in the warm Sun. The gentle breeze kissed her hair, causing her tail to glide softly on the ground. The people walking by on the Beach boardwalk offered smiles to her coffee-sipping self, and she offered a wave in return. For all of its beauty, however, Sable did not smile. For the Dragon, the little splendors that shed sparkles over the image of a perfect resort town was nothing more than golden paint on a well-crafted turd.

---

Another sip of her coffee. The bitter taste assaulted her tongue, and raked its claws down her throat. She didn’t bother to wince. Her tired eyes, decorated with the black bags of exhaustion, blinked slowly. When did I start drinking coffee black, thought the pretty reptilian parked in front of a local coffee shop. As she pondered, she then felt a shadow blocked out the sun she loved bathing under.

“Hello, there,” said a voice not her own. “Enjoying the sun, I see!” Turning her head to the culprit responsible for breaking out of her ritualistic silence, her eyes - or eye, as only her left was not covered by her puffy hair - scrutinized the unwanted guest. A sheep, with snow white fleece and a grin far too wide was leaning forward to speak with her.

“Liking it, huh? Yep, that’s Rian’s specialty blend! You won’t find coffee nearly as good anywhere else! Starbucks? Get the buck outta here! I wouldn’t dunk any donuts into that slop! By the way, miss? You look absolutely STUNNING! If you were a cup of coffee, you’d be a Mocha Latte~!”

Tristan. That’s what the name tag said on this wooly leech’s apron. The poison of Charlottesburg was dripping from this person’s maw: dripping in sweetness to hide the killing agent within. If it was merely promotion for this shop, which was in no trouble of failing, she would have brushed him off as a desperate salesperson. However, the compliment to her body had tipped her off to a hidden motive. It then occurred to her why she started to drink black coffee: she’d rather suffer the unmodified roast than to ever choose an artificial sweetener.

“...Mocha Latte?” Sable purred. “So I’m a sweet treat to you.”

“Ooh! More than that! You’re a 5 star dessert! I couldn’t get enough of you even if I was lactose intolerant!”

Disgusting, but Sable was thankful for his honesty. It was a confirmation of her presence. For her, it wasn’t the fact that she was of a rare species in this world that gave her a sense of presence; anyone could be a 7 foot tall combination of brown and sable scales, lounging in front of a small coffee shop and clash with the bright whites and blues that made up the color scheme of the exterior and interior. For Sable, presence was about the respect you commanded, and her instructions were VERY clear. She could see his eyes through his painted-on smile following every word uttered by her dulcet voice. His attention was…elsewhere, but she was assured that that somewhere was still on her. She hadn’t the energy to be offended, so Sable took his vying eyes to congratulate herself on her wardrobe.
Naturally, this sheep’s eyes took to their closest target located on her chest. A sleeveless sweater, blessed with a keyhole to show the heft of her mocha-hued bosom, was her trendy way of looking good and keeping cool…However Sable had a feeling that it, and the Ankh necklace resting comfortably in her cleave, was not appreciated as much as her body. Tristan was a lucky one - all it would take is a sliding of the silent dragoness to pull her arms through the sleeves of her gray jacket draped over her shoulders to seal away the objects of his desire. She decided against it, and brought attention to her long, luscious legs by crossing them over the other. Her beige skirt protected enough of her legs to keep everything underneath hidden and to keep this sheep’s mind racing with his unquestionably perverted desires.

“If I’m a 5 star dessert,” parroted Sable, her sultry voice dancing on the edge of sounding playful. “Then you’re selling yourself as a candy bar. You’re out of your league, Tristan.”
That bleat of shock that she just heard was likely the only truthful thing to crawl out of this sheep’s mouth. Seeing him sputter wildly in a mad scramble to put words together almost made it worthwhile to keep the charade rolling. Sable’s unflinching gaze stayed vigilant even as the sheep found his words and smiled again.

“W-well, you know what they say,” Tristan said, rubbing his hands together. “ Don't knock a good coffee until you try it! You never know what good stuff lies under the fluff!” Those clumsy words were followed by a magic trick - he slipped his hand through part of his wool, sliding out a small piece of paper with 10 digits scribbled upon it. If there is one thing Sable could give him credit for, it was his preparedness to make a fool of himself. Raising her coffee to her lips, she sipped the bitter coffee to suppress the urge to grab a cigarette.

“Besides,” continued the talkative creature. “I’m a pretty good cuddle buddy! Ladies tend to enjoy the warmth I give~.” Sable waited for the hint of innuendo behind those words, and those bouncing eyebrows of the sheep did not disappoint.

“Smothering someone in wool and words is not cuddling. It’s annoying. So please, Tristan, save it for someone else.”

There was only 15 minutes left in her lunch break. Time would continue, and soon she would be away from the all encompassing sun and it’s warmth, and back into a building, stifled with incompetence and insanity under a false, fluorescent star. As fun as this sheep was, the sound of silence was far more favored than a failed attempt to bed with her.

“Hey now,” said Tristan, refusing to take the hint. “Don’t be so crass lady! Dunno what your problem is, but if you wanna have a good time, how about you slide that stick out your ass so I can fill ya with somethin’ better? I’ll let ya snuggle me, and I’ll even throw in a coffee to boot...~” By now, Tristan was in her face, forcing her to look into those insistent eyes of the smiling sheep.

There it was. The bitter aftertaste after Tristan’s sweet words. The frustration was clear as day as his fake smile struggled to keep up the facade. Much like everyone else in this damned place known as Charlottesburg, the beautiful are preyed upon by the opportunistic. It’s a circus that repeated itself ad nauseam, and no matter where she went the clowns always seemed to follow her. How unfortunate for Tristan that he had decided to say the wrong joke to the wrong audience.

“...Tristan, was it?”

“That’s right~!” he grinned, feeling a sense of triumph from god knows where. “Thought it over?”

Sable slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her irises became razor thin slits that locked onto the sheep, who noted her change with a meager bleat. Without looking away, she laid her tea cup onto the table, before lifting her hand into the air. The confused sheep watched her hand raise, and his curiosity became shockingly great as a mist gathered in her palm, shrouding it in that mysterious fog. Before his very eyes, a waterfall of black, hot liquid fell into the coffee cup.

“Do you know why I’m here? I’ll give you a hint: It’s not because of your coffee, of which, declined significantly since Rian’s passing,” she paused, keeping her eyes trained on the sheep who began to shudder, and step back from the magically blessed dragon. “I’m here because this spot is perfect. The sun warms my scales, the sound of the crashing waves soothes me, and I’m far away from work.” The rain of coffee continued well past the surface tension, spilling upon the table as Sable’s smooth voice dripped with audible poison. Tristan’s frightened silence answered her.

“I have about 10 more minutes left. I can enjoy my coffee in this spot in peace, and then leave. If you want to continue pestering me…”

The fog of the coffee-fall dissipated, and with it the flow of ethereal espresso. Tristan’s mouth opened, but his voice was taken away as the world around them suddenly flashed purple. The sheep’s survival instincts were kicking in. Death was here, and it was all around him. The dragon sought to make the situation clear, and pulled that aura back to her, holding all of it within a volatile little light dancing on the tip of her index finger.

“Then I will silence you for good. Is that clear?”
The fear emanating from this sheep was so pungent that a mere hint of his wool-layered perspiration was as good of an answer as any. Finally, her gaze broke away from Tristan, who was scurrying back into the Coffee shop, to focus on her coffee. Her snout fights the urge to snarl as she imbibes more of this fresh, bitter taste.

Bee-Bee-Beep! Bee-Bee-Beep!

That damned alarm! She knew it would come at any moment, but she still found herself choking on her coffee from the surprise. Hurriedly grabbing napkins from the table, Sable made sure to clean herself thoroughly; having your chest stared at due to a stain was much more humiliating than a mere lustful gaze. With a clearing of her throat, Sable brought herself back to reality of paperwork mountains to move a pebble, bleatings of the parents and teachers warring about the fate of their children instead of helping one another, and the kobold-shaped piece of excrement known as their Mayor deliberately making life worse for her.

To know that her presence brought the bumbling Mayor Goldtail, among others, to a seething rage was enough to crack a small smile on the dragoness’ face. She stood tall knowing that, despite the powers that be conspiring her downfall, she is a superintendent that was going to make sure her students come out the door smarter than yesterday. No government official, overly concerned parent, or Deity of Fortune will change that.

“Back to work.”

With a swipe of her arm, Sable’s jacket flowed from the movement. The business jacket resting on her shoulders came alive, morphing from a serious-yet-sexy piece of clothing to membranous wings powerful enough to give the Dragoness the gift of flight. With one flap did she leap into the air, leaving bystanders speechless and tumbling to the ground as she ascended gracefully into the skies. Barrel-rolling towards the city, Sable rights herself up as she heads back to the Hell that was the Charlottesburg Board of Education.

An old piece by Jiji, including my handsome snake, Deacon and furryyoyoer's Makani. This is before she became a Mongoose!

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