Dragons At Sea

As he looked around the room, a faint wisp of smoke trailed from his nose. Noticing that distracted him a moment, which he took to close his eyes and count to ten. Rein it in, he thought. I haven’t lived this long among them to be discovered by someone’s incompetence now. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and, while the view still made him want to roar, the only physical sign of his anger was the tightening of his shoulders. The wheelhouse was still a mess. His territory had been brutally invaded, and those who had come seeking didn’t even care enough to bother to clean up. It was as if they had wanted him to know they had been there.

There were maps scattered, and papers littering the floor. There was, inexplicably, some foul smelling liquid drenching the table, as well. Great; I’m going to have to clean up, before I can even clean up. He started feeling the fire in his body start burning hotter again, and clamped it down, before another smoke trail could escape. He sighed and gathered the nearest absorbent cloth he could find – someone’s uniform shirt – to wipe off the table. He stared at the shirt for a moment, wondering just what had happened in the room, before balling it in his hand and forcibly throwing it in a corner. His crew would have to wait until he was calmer before he attempted to find out what they thought they’d been doing. For now, he had to make some sense of the course schedule.

Assembling the maps, he slowly made progress, first noting which maps were pertinent for this particular haul, and putting the rest in a pile. Looking down at one – Aruba? Someone was dreaming big, buddy – he shook his head and decided they could definitely wait to be put away. Right now, he had to make sure they were on track.

Tackling the loosely strewn sheets of papers, he finished the clean up. Now to figure out where they were and where they were going. He grimaced. His crewmates should have known better. It might not look it, but this was a vital part of the ship. Plotting out the course was a vital job. To have had a party in here was not only against the rules, it was stupid. And, it was decidedly something mortals would do. He arched his back, in the vain attempt to sooth wings that yearned to fly away from the idiots – wings he hadn’t physically had in centuries. Unrelieved, he scowled at the paperwork in his hand, as if it had something to do with his foul temper, and threatening it would make everything better.  It didn’t, of course, and he sat down to do his job.

A bit of static on the radio distracted him, some few hours later. There was, apparently, another ship in the area. A ship sending out a mayday. A ship they were going to attempt to go help, as they were the closest in the waters. He blinked at that, and then looked at the warning for the area they were in – Pirates.


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