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Sep. 22nd, 2014 05:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
little_lady_dsequel to the self-indulgent dragon story --
Sofita had heard of a dragon's haughtiness, of their slow-burning disdain for those who've insulted them, but never had she witnessed a dragon's sulks and a dragon's tantrums. (Those, she felt, more legends should mention.) Her dragon huffed towers of smoke, paced and clawed the mountainside, and whined in that once-sibilant voice. "But why."
In Sofita's experience, such moods were to be weathered with crossed-arm immobility and a placid expression. "When you approached me as a curator," she said (and even that was charitable, "approached" and not "abducted"), "you couldn't have expected me to leave your collections in stacks in a dusty cavern --"
"In my home!" the dragon roared. "You want to deprive my home of beauty. You want to leave it joyless and barren! I won't, won't, won't allow it!"
"So you've said. But you approached me. You entrusted me with the establishment and curation of your own gallery -- a gallery that will be larger than any I've yet overseen as adjunct curator --"
"And you relish it."
It was enough to send a ripple through Sofita's stance of placidity, to make her stare in startlement and (nearly) uncross her arms. "I relish it?"
"Come, now! I see in your eyes, in your tiny human eyes. Human emotion is no more nuanced than dragon emotion."
"No more nuanced than stomping and shouting until you've gotten your way?" asked Sofita, irritation curdling her voice.
"And why shouldn't I?" The dragon unfurled her wings for the height of them, drawing herself up to match. "It's my way to have."
"Because if the artifacts you've donated are going to be preserved for exhibition, they'll need a separate collections facility," Sofita explained. "The way you store tapestries is appalling."
"Appalling! Everything I do is appalling. The way I gather beauty to myself, appalling! The way I keep it, appalling! From the moment we met, I've heard nothing but criticisms."
Understanding dawned in Sofita's eyes, however tiny the dragon thought them. "I see," she said. "You've the human habit of picking fights when something else is bothering you."
Wings aflutter, the dragon craned down her neck from her heights. "Is that a term of praise, from a human?"
"No," said Sofita. "It's a term for a common, comprehensible flaw. I'd prefer it if you were direct with me -- but you feel I'm overcritical?"
The dragon curled in on herself, and Sofita noticed how slim, how serpentine she was -- she was not small, yet she seemed fragile. "I thought we would be kindred spirits, you and I, fellow devotees in the house of beauty. But now my house will be impoverished to your idea of enrichment. You tell me I must do this, and I mustn't do that, and you never ask what I should like."
"I thought you wanted my professional opinion --" Sofita stopped herself. "But I shouldn't wield profession as a blunt instrument. You have passion, and I value it, more than I value your collection. It's impressive, what you've built -- and I want to see you share it. It would be a tragedy if the objects of your devotion crumbled to nothing before the first exhibition. That's my thinking, and I'll say what I think, but I'm sorry for having said it unkindly."
With a thud, the dragon flopped back against the broad mountainside, and began to roll about on it, throwing up dust. "Unfair!"
Sofita sneezed, squeaked. "What?"
"When you apologize so thoroughly, I've no choice but to forgive you! It's unfair."
"Of course you've a choice. You've always a choice. And you can choose not to have a separate collections facility -- your home is dry, dark, and in other ways ideal for storage. But I might suggest bringing in more hands to conserve and catalog what you have. Preferably not," she added, "the way you brought in me."
"Then," the dragon asked, lifting her head, "I can keep my beauty around me?"
"Yes, yes, of course. And we can rotate exhibits."
Dragons didn't smile, quite, but they made a low, vibrating sound between a hum and a purr when they were pleased. It still surprised Sofita how she could feel it in her bones. "Oh, beautiful! Beautiful," the dragon said.
In her bones, Sofita felt it was so.
Sofita had heard of a dragon's haughtiness, of their slow-burning disdain for those who've insulted them, but never had she witnessed a dragon's sulks and a dragon's tantrums. (Those, she felt, more legends should mention.) Her dragon huffed towers of smoke, paced and clawed the mountainside, and whined in that once-sibilant voice. "But why."
In Sofita's experience, such moods were to be weathered with crossed-arm immobility and a placid expression. "When you approached me as a curator," she said (and even that was charitable, "approached" and not "abducted"), "you couldn't have expected me to leave your collections in stacks in a dusty cavern --"
"In my home!" the dragon roared. "You want to deprive my home of beauty. You want to leave it joyless and barren! I won't, won't, won't allow it!"
"So you've said. But you approached me. You entrusted me with the establishment and curation of your own gallery -- a gallery that will be larger than any I've yet overseen as adjunct curator --"
"And you relish it."
It was enough to send a ripple through Sofita's stance of placidity, to make her stare in startlement and (nearly) uncross her arms. "I relish it?"
"Come, now! I see in your eyes, in your tiny human eyes. Human emotion is no more nuanced than dragon emotion."
"No more nuanced than stomping and shouting until you've gotten your way?" asked Sofita, irritation curdling her voice.
"And why shouldn't I?" The dragon unfurled her wings for the height of them, drawing herself up to match. "It's my way to have."
"Because if the artifacts you've donated are going to be preserved for exhibition, they'll need a separate collections facility," Sofita explained. "The way you store tapestries is appalling."
"Appalling! Everything I do is appalling. The way I gather beauty to myself, appalling! The way I keep it, appalling! From the moment we met, I've heard nothing but criticisms."
Understanding dawned in Sofita's eyes, however tiny the dragon thought them. "I see," she said. "You've the human habit of picking fights when something else is bothering you."
Wings aflutter, the dragon craned down her neck from her heights. "Is that a term of praise, from a human?"
"No," said Sofita. "It's a term for a common, comprehensible flaw. I'd prefer it if you were direct with me -- but you feel I'm overcritical?"
The dragon curled in on herself, and Sofita noticed how slim, how serpentine she was -- she was not small, yet she seemed fragile. "I thought we would be kindred spirits, you and I, fellow devotees in the house of beauty. But now my house will be impoverished to your idea of enrichment. You tell me I must do this, and I mustn't do that, and you never ask what I should like."
"I thought you wanted my professional opinion --" Sofita stopped herself. "But I shouldn't wield profession as a blunt instrument. You have passion, and I value it, more than I value your collection. It's impressive, what you've built -- and I want to see you share it. It would be a tragedy if the objects of your devotion crumbled to nothing before the first exhibition. That's my thinking, and I'll say what I think, but I'm sorry for having said it unkindly."
With a thud, the dragon flopped back against the broad mountainside, and began to roll about on it, throwing up dust. "Unfair!"
Sofita sneezed, squeaked. "What?"
"When you apologize so thoroughly, I've no choice but to forgive you! It's unfair."
"Of course you've a choice. You've always a choice. And you can choose not to have a separate collections facility -- your home is dry, dark, and in other ways ideal for storage. But I might suggest bringing in more hands to conserve and catalog what you have. Preferably not," she added, "the way you brought in me."
"Then," the dragon asked, lifting her head, "I can keep my beauty around me?"
"Yes, yes, of course. And we can rotate exhibits."
Dragons didn't smile, quite, but they made a low, vibrating sound between a hum and a purr when they were pleased. It still surprised Sofita how she could feel it in her bones. "Oh, beautiful! Beautiful," the dragon said.
In her bones, Sofita felt it was so.