The Colour of a Soul

Author's Note
For the love of writing
This fanfiction is for Wings of Writing.
Please comment below! It lets me now that people are reading my stories and if there are any problems.This particular story is based around the prompts 'Flowers', ' Torch', and 'Armour'. I hope you enjoy it!
Yours in writing, Shøck.
Part One: As We See It
Emotions are fickle things. They are a vital part of our life, but we must remain in control if we wish to live well.
It was a sun blessed day.
The sky, bright and blue, was free of any clouds, and the sun shone brightly down on the top of Bloodworm Hive, where Lady Bloodworm's gardens lay, sprawled out in an elegant design that reminded thoses who flew above it of a spiral. As it was, not many dragons did so: only Lady Bloodworm's guests and children could enter her gardens.
So it may have seemed unsusual, to the flying passerby, that two dragons were there, despite the heat, walking along on thier seperate businesses.
Walking hurridly along the path was a bright blue SilkWing, clutching a packet of seeds and a blue glazed pot. The pot shone in the sun like the body of a dragonfly, rippling with blues, greens, and hints of purple.
She was a small dragon, with a fine boned face and elegant talons. Around her neck was a bronzed beaded necklace, and a thin brown pouch.
Like the pot, her scales were blue, but with purple and hints of orange. Some would say she was beautiful; but most couldn't see past the horrible disfigurement they all knew she had.
The other dragon was a tall HiveWing, delightedly wandering through the gardens in a distracted, happy kind of way. He was a mix of pale orange, light yellow and peach.
It happened that they were on the same path. Odd how fate ends up: two dragons, one blue, one yellow, finding the threads of thier lives tangled together.
Odd.
---
Thump!
She fell roughly to the ground as a dragon crashed into her with a cry, her body entangled with his.
The packet of seeds she had been carrying skidded across the path, and with a sickening crash the new pot shattered, shattered into a great jagged pieces.
Furious, bruised, Ghost struggled to untangle herself from the other dragon. Her pot! The new one, the beautiful blue pot that Verdent had made her, was lying in a dozen pieces on the ground, broken by a clumsy, ant-brained, toad-licking....
"Ow.Ow. That hurt. Oh dear," said a voice. A warm, soulful voice.
Ghost turned from her broken pot, ready to tell that idiot exactly what she thought of them. She bared her teeth.
Her scowl deepened when she saw that he was a HiveWing. Black hate filled her even as he looked mournfully down at the remains of the pot and the bruises on her side.
"I'm so sorry! Clearsight help me, I'm such a dimwit, watching the clouds instead of the path. Are you hurt?" Gingerly he picked himself up, brushing the dust from his scales.
He was very beautiful, for a HiveWing, with warm peach and orange blending into pale yellow sunshine, as if his scales couldn't decide what colour to be. Little specks of black pattered down his scales like ant tracks, and he had a golden monocle on his left eye, shaped like a curled snake.
But it didn't matter what colour scales he had or how nice his snout was. He was a HiveWing: a lying, overbearing, traynnical HiveWing.
Concerned, he peered into her angry face. "Are you okay?"
The HiveWing reached out, and Ghost lept back with a strangled hiss. Fumbling with anger, she reached around in her pouch for a carved box made of elephant bone. 
She took it out, and opened it. Inside were many, many little white cards, with black words and phrases written on them. Expertly Ghost selected one.
Written on the card were three words.
I cannot speak.
---
Leafcutter blinked.
She can't speak? Why? What happend?
He couldn't imagine not being able to talk. What would it be like, to not be able to express yourself, to live in silence for all your life?
"I'm sorry. I didn't know." That sounded so lame.
She seemed to think so too. Or maybe she was still angry at him. Angrily, she glared at him with cobalt eyes, elegent face pointed proudly.
Slowly, carefully he asked, "How did it happen?"
Her reaction was swift and unexpected. With a strangled sound she clawed at him, and he lept back. Growling, the blue SilkWing brought out a crumpled notebook and wrote in jagged letters:
Why don't you ask Lady Bloodworm?
Leafcutter was taken aback by her fury toward him, as if he personally was responsible for her condition. There was a lot of hurt under those scales, he guessed. 
"I..I..Please, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just..I really...I'm not from this Hive, I -"
She snatched up her seeds and darted away, leaving him alone with the shattered shards of the pot. Confused and upset, he watched her go with deep, mournful brown eyes.
Leafcutter didn't know what happend to her, but he was going to find out. 
---
The day faded into night like a piece of flamesilk slowly losing its fire.
Dragons hurried home, not wanting to be out past curfew, not wanting to be Lady Bloodworm's next 'example'. The lights dimly lit the streets of the Hive, and the faint sounds of cooking, laughing and roars mingled.
Ghost's home was near the gardens, and she walked through the door, staring at the floor, breathing slowly.
The HiveWing - she should have known he'd be here today. She knew a sculpter was coming. 
You idiot. You could have avoided him.
"Ghost? Is that you?"
Verdant poked his head out from the doorway of his room. Green scales with orange dots greeted her as he smiled and tapped her wing with his. 
Verdant was a potter, and her roommate. Bright, gentle and kind hearted, he was almost a brother to her.
As dragonets they had been friends, and after the....thing happend, Verdant had sheltered her.
"What happened today? You look...upset." He handed her a bowl of fruit and a familer sheet of paper.
There was a HiveWing there today.He crashed into me and broke my pot. I think he's the sculptor Lady Bloodstains commissioned to sculpt the statue of herself, the arrogant fly.He's an idiot.
Verdant sighed at the words. "Ghost, that's not very nice."
Seeing her look, he added "Don't worry, I'll make another pot."
There was a silence as Ghost ate the food awkwardly. It hadn't always been like this. Once, eating and talking, laughing and singing had been second nature.
But not now.
---
Days passed. A large chunk of marble was brought to the Gardens, and Ghost found that the HiveWing was there every day, cutting and muttering and putting dust everywhere. 
Most of the time she could avoid him, but every now and then she'd bump into him, or have to tend the gardens where he was working.
At one such time, Ghost had looked up to find him watching her. Irritated, she turned to leave.
"Wait! Please, don't go." The HiveWing came up beside her and gently took the tools from her talons. He looked down at the ground, then at the tools, and finally at her. "It's really...lonely, working alone. Would you...will you talk with me?"
You idiot! I can't talk! And why would I want to talk to a HiveWing!!
But there was something in his voice that Ghost had heard -felt- in her own life. The pain that she had felt for the last few years, reflected in his caramel brown eyes.
So she stayed.
---
It was so wonderful to have someone to speak with.
Leafcutter worked with renewed vigor as Ghost sat in the sun, twisting leaves in her pale white claws. He spoke about his upbringing, of how he was frowned on in his family for being an artist, of how he had been transfered against his will, of how lonely and cold his house was with no-one but himself.
Sometimes she would tip her head; once, he swore that she looked...sad. Like she knew how he felt. No-one had ever looked at him like that before. Leafcutter had been so alone in this new Hive: but now, now he maybe had a friend.
And when Ghost gave him a odd, but not unpleasent, look as they left, Leafcutter felt his heart soar.
Part Two: A Change in Season
It was maybe a month since Leafcutter had first seen her. 
He knew her name now: Ghost. An odd name, but pretty. Most days he waved to her, and sometimes they would 'talk' - she would write in her notebook and he would talk, filling the empty space with words and songs. 
He still hadn't learned what had happened to her voice, but Leafcutter didn't push her. Content to enjoy her company, he was aware of how lucky he was to know her. Ghost was filled with a raging anger at HiveWings, and Leafcutter was sure he was the only one she spoke to without scowling and making rude gestures behind their backs.  
One day he found Ghost sitting by the fountain next to his half-finished statue. From what he could see, she was seething with rage, and there were scraps of paper lying about her feet.
"What happend?" Leafcutter asked, sitting down beside her. In vain he tried to piece togeather the scraps into something readable. 
Ghost leaned forward and wrote in the dust.
There were HiveWings in the gardens. They insulted me. I'm going to shove tulips down their throats.
Leafcutter tipped his head. "That's...not a great idea. You could be punished badly for attacking a HiveWing, even if they were rude."
Snorting, Ghost snapped her teeth, giving the strangled hiss that meant she was upset. He immediately wished he had said something else. Why couldn't he find the words that were right?
You really don't know, do you? I've been punished already. Next time I'll be killed.
Hesitantly, carefully, Leafcutter leaned close. What he was going to ask...he was walking the knife edge.
"Ghost, what...what happened to you? I know that Lady Bloodworm had something to do with it, but..." He had guessed, of course, but he wanted to hear it from her. Maybe saying - writing- it would help ease the pain. Maybe it would help her heal.
Ghost stiffened, was quiet for a moment. Then she began to write, with slow, hesitant strokes.
I was always a fiery dragon. I hated Lady Bloodworm and the way she and her Hive stepped all over us. I wanted to help my tribe, to fight.
One day I...addressed her during a ceremony. I demanded the reason why the SilkWings were treated like dust. 
She didn't like that.
"Rebellious SilkWings must be made an example of." And then...she had my tongue cut out.
Horrified, Leafcutter drew back. He had guessed, but it still came as a nasty shock. Poor Ghost! Poor, poor Ghost. He reached out a wing, then drew it back. She wouldn't like that. 
He suddenly felt so angry, more angry than he had ever felt in his life. Without even being aware of it, Leafcutter was on his feet and baring his teeth. "It's not fair!" he roared. "They shouldn't have done that to you. They shouldn't do it to anyone!"
Tears bubbled up and poured down his cheeks. Ghost looked up, matching tears in her own eyes. 
Category:Content (Queen Bluefire)
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Category:Fanfictions
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