Sprocket the Bronze Dragon

I squinted at the book before me, its lines blurring into a frustrating mess of squiggles. Gripping my talons into my palm, I blinked the blur away and tried to refocus on the tables in the old tome.

Gollum-Arm-Plus part inventory, driver spells, and optional components volume XI wasn’t the catchiest title ever, but it was useful for the task at claw. I needed to make progress on my third year thesis project, but my mind was having its way with me. I grabbed another book from my bag, one with the scintillating title of Kinetic/Mana Conversation Tables, Physical Constants, and Artificer Formulae.

My thoughts lingered on last night. On the play.

I sat on my haunches in one of the Artificer’s workshops. Tools hung from the walls and disassembled constructs sat everywhere that had room. Reference manuals and scrolls with deconstructed spells filled the remaining space. Fortunately, we had work desks that were kept clean for writing or working on small parts. The TAs required these desks to be clean, with grave penalties for violators. I chuckled, remembering the pranks we pulled on careless first years. A favorite was to replace the mana gems in unattended parts with colored glass.

I sighed. No reasonable dragon would be awake so early, but this project was a large part of my total grade for the semester, so I needed as much alone time to focus as I could muster.

With a glum sigh, I put my forelegs into my “hoodie’s” stomach pocket, which is a comfortable bit of clothing unabashedly stolen from human and Elven fashion. They needed to be modified with horn holes and such for optimal wear, but tall human garments would fit most dragons here. If you didn’t mind your neck being cold, you could wear them unmodified.

Despite our culture, the temperature up here made clothing non-optional. I took an even breath and snuggled further into my hoodie, resting my chin on the workbench to continue studying the book. I turned the page and sighed. I finally found the table I’d been looking for. It took almost an hour.

The partially assembled construct sat in the center of the room. I circled around it, inspecting its crystal arrays and the gold and platinum wiring connecting its components. It was a mechanical arm mounted to the floor, which I’d designed several “claws” for that were optimal for specific tasks. That was my thesis project: these attachments.

I sat staring at the machine as I gave in and let my mind return to last night’s performance.

Memories painted themselves across my glazed vision, and I was back to where all this trouble began. A little white dragon entered my mind. Moonstone. The image of his opalescent scales and bright green eyes brought a smile to my face. We had been in the theater club together since my first year. He was a year older, so he took me under his proverbial wing.

Moonstone, usually quiet and soft-spoken, had this incredible charisma on stage that just pulled you into your own character. As opposed to actual theater students, who focused on important plays and immaculate performances, amateur theater was for drinking, fun, and often raunchy plays.

Last night, we did the last performance of Tyrannicide: Harmony and Gafol.

Moonstone and I played the eponymous assassins, two ill-fated lovers who died to free the people from a tyrannical monarch. It was melodramatic to the max, filled with love-struck monologues, big fight scenes, and many scenes that faded to black as two performers convincingly made out on stage.

I wondered how much of that was acting. Half our little troupe was building nests together, as it were. I didn’t judge, obviously, as I myself had a one-night stand with a lighting guy after a party last year.

As my thoughts meandered back to last night’s performance, the memory took over.

***

Backstage, Moonstone and I did one another’s costume checks. I’m sure he could feel me trembling under all the costume armor. He wore a simple, yet elegant cloak held in place by a silver brooch. He looked incredible.

“Did you know that this play is based on human history?” Moonstone said.

I stood on my back legs, letting him inspect me, and responded. “No, I thought it was just fictional.”

“Yes, two lovers actually did assassinate a tyrant, which brought on the human golden age.”

He pulled on one of the loose straps, cinching my helmet over my horns, and continued.

“Obviously the story was modified for dragon sensibilities, and more drama.”

I breathed in, centering myself. The play wasn’t the sole cause of my stomach’s knots. I wanted to have a conversation with Moonstone, but before a big play wasn’t the time.

“You ready, my beloved Harmony?” I asked.

“Of course, Lord Gafol. I would follow you to Hades itself.” He quoted. We snickered as a green dragon with a clipboard rushed in.

“Positions, everyone!”

A few moments later, I entered-right with the confidence and swagger of a general. Three other dragons sat around a table, and Moonstone stood gesturing at something upon it. I began my monologue.

“Fellow dragons of Wisdom City! Comrades in freedom and liberty! Lover and friends! Bend thine ear to me, and hear my noble scheme to rid our fair city of this despot, this demagogue, this… tyrant!”

The crowd roared their approval as I lifted my spear with the last word. This was a lively crowd. I felt my confidence swell.

***

The workshop’s TA walked in, his heavy footsteps jolting me back to the present. Suddenly aware again, I rubbed my eyes to refocus on the room. The TA was a burly gray dragon with a gruff voice. He, too, bundled up for the chilly morning, wearing a tunic that tied under his chest and an overcoat that ran over his tail and haunches.

“Morning, Sprocket.” He grumbled, throwing the overcoat under a desk before sitting at it.

“Morning.” I chimed. I tried for a cheery demeanor, but I couldn’t hide the distance in my voice.

I walked back to my desk to stare through my book.

A satisfied smile accompanied the memories that followed. The crowd delighted at every cheesy monologue, cheered through the barely choreographed fight scenes, and swooned at the performance of my beloved Moonstone… I mean Harmony.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

***

I stood on my back legs, leaning on my spear.

“Lord Gafol! This may be our last night before our ferry departs.” Moonstone put his claws on my chest-plate and looked into my eyes. “I will not go to Lord Hades’ house without another night in yours.” He put his head against my chest, and I held his face with my free claw.

“Beloved, have I ever asked you to depart from me? Have I ever denied you my bed?” Someone whistled loudly. “No, my dearest Harmony, tonight we celebrate the revolution! If tomorrow we live, then we have earned our twain commemoration. If we die then we have our own garland to bestow. Our own feast to attend. Our own night to not rest.”

In every other performance, Moonstone looks up at me, and we kiss. This time, though, he pushed up, lost his balance, over-corrected, and slipped. I tossed my spear aside to catch him, but I failed and ended up over him. Belly to belly, and snout to snout. I didn’t skip a beat as I took his face in my claws and kissed him deeply. The lights didn’t fade for a few moments longer than usual, and I stroked his cheek as our intimate kiss continued on for several quickening heartbeats. Eventually the fade to black happened, and Moonstone and I scurried off stage.

The crowd lost their minds. A cacophony of whistles, cheers, and applause saluted the climactic scene. My ears burned, and I felt my erection pressed into the costume armor. When I next caught Moonstone’s eye, we were back in the coordination area. He embraced me while twisting his hips away.

“By all the Gods, thank you Sprocket.”

I knew I was blushing fiercely, but pride swelled in me. After nuzzling my cheek, Moonstone ran off to get into costume for his next scene. I snuck out with the stagehands to retrieve my discarded spear.

***

Maybe that was too far. Guilt pulled at my heart as I wondered if that bit of improv crossed a line. After the show, my heart still fluttered and the knots in my stomach became nautical rigging. It was enough that I couldn’t summon the grit to have the conversation I wanted with him. Even though I was in character, how I’d kissed Moonstone that time… it felt different. The second it started, I wanted it to never end, and how he held me; It didn’t feel like acting.

“Sprocket?” A voice came from the entry of the shop. It… it sounded like Moonstone. I blinked and walked over to the entryway.

“Morning Moonstone!” I mustered as much excitement as I could, happy to see the cute white dragon. He was a welcome distraction from my work, and ruminations, so I pulled the cloth doorway open. He was in his mage robes, which ran elegantly over his back, haunches, and tail most of the way to the floor. It had a brooch in the front, with a moonstone as its centerpiece. He had unfurled his wings to carry two paper cups with each of his wing’s thumbs.

“I have coffee and tea. Which one would you like?” His quiet, but musical voice said.

“Oh, the coffee please. It’s been a rough morning.” I stepped aside, inviting him in.

He gestured, indicating the coffee, and after I grabbed it, he entered the shop. I took an immediate sip, and it was life bringing. Glancing at the TA, I saw his longing look at the cup in my claws, but he didn’t seem to disapprove of the visitor.

“Thank you so much!” I said. Moonstone was already perusing the book I had been reading, and studied it with a focused pout on his face.

“This is barely correct, and the higher values are just wrong.”

“Is that so?” I asked.

“Yes. This is a mana to torque table right?”

“That it is.” I said.

“Here, it is actually really simple to compute.”

I grabbed the coffee in my maw and set it next to his tea. He pulled out a piece of paper and an inkwell and began writing with his talon as I watched over his shoulder.

Moonstone was a mage candidate. Most students here could stop at various points in their education and still qualify for careers. For example, I could stop next year and still be an employable engineer or Artificer. They call it “having a profession”. If I continued, as I planned, I could pursue mastery or a doctorate.

Mages weren’t like that. There were no stops. It was, in effect, doctorate or bust.

Naturally, they’d still be incredibly qualified magic users, the kind that hired swords pay top coin for, but the kinds of people in mage programs wanted careers that not only needed the full education, but ranking in said program. Moonstone was number three in the school. Number one was a silver dragon who was exceptionally severe, and spoke in terse, maximally effective sentences. People seldom saw her outside of class. The hundreds of other mage candidates desperately clawed their way into “top 50” or “top 100” ratings for their own career ambitions.

He looked at me, smiling, and I glanced at the page.

“Hey, wait. Isn’t that just the regular torque equation?” I asked, studying his writing.

“Yep!” He said. “Here, mana is just like any other kind of physical work. The version of the formula for mana to torque conversion just has mana-work multiplied in. The reason it looks so different in textbooks is because the mana term causes a bunch of other terms to cancel out.” He pointed with his ink-tipped talon at the equations he’d written.

“Wow.” I turned and grinned at him. “I oughta keep you around as an engineering assistant.”

“You could not afford my services.” He teased back.

“So, what? This little lesson was just from the kindness of your heart?”

“Oh yes, I thought my… magnanimous generosity was obvious.” he raised his claw and looked down his snout at his talons, rolling his wrist lazily.

I couldn’t keep my composure any longer and laughed into his neck. He froze for a moment before chuckling with me.

A bell chimed overhead. Class was about to start.

“We’ve gotta get out of here, the first year class is starting in about ten minutes. Do you have anything after this?”

“I do not.” he said.

“Do you want to wander around with me?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

After re-shouldering my bag and grabbing my coffee with my wing, I followed Moonstone as he left the workshop. Once I joined him, he spoke.

“I - uh, like your… shirt?”

“Oh, thanks! It’s called a hoodie. I got a few made last time I went to a town with humans. It’s soooo cozy. I’ll lend you one some time!”

“Oh, you don’t - I mean - yes. Yes, I’d like that.”

We chatted amicably as we wandered and finished our drinks, milling through the stone halls of the mountain and stretching out on the various balconies. Whenever we stopped, I fidgeted and paced like I was about to go up on stage. The knot in my belly that usually accompanied pre-performance jitters was also there.

Moonstone talked animatedly whenever we were alone in a hallway or on a balcony, but was his usual soft-spoken self whenever we were not. I smiled, appreciating the comfort my presence apparently brought him.

Before long, we stumbled upon a familiar, heavily adorned entryway.

“Oh, it’s the theater.” Moonstone said.

“Do you want to go inside?” I asked. I couldn’t keep the mischief from my tone.

He grinned. “Yeah, sure!”

Inside, we mounted the wide stage and reprised our roles, performing just for one another. Butterflies danced inside me, and my heartbeat quickened. We still needed to have that conversation, and I was just distracting myself. I looked out at the rows of seats, empty now, and visible because of the extinguished limelights. I shuddered and turned to Moonstone, who was also gazing out.

“I have grave concerns about Plinth’s loyalty.” I said, rising to my back legs to gesture theatrically.

“Why so, dear Gafol? I have heard no such things.” He stood as well, holding onto my foreleg. I put my claw on his shoulder and responded.

“I have seen him leave in the night, and go with neither lamp, spell, nor torch. I pursued him this very morn’ and saw him speak with a dragon, cloaked in shadow and a black hood. When Plinth departed I stayed and watched. The stranger eventually stepped into the light. I did not know their face, but they wore the scars and chipped horns of a soldier.”

“Say it isn’t so!” Moonstone dramatically leaned, performatively near to fainting. “The festival is near upon us!”

“Fear not, love. No liar’s dagger will pierce your scale, and no treacherous blade shall bite… thine flesh…”

I grew quiet as I finished my line. During the play, this is a moment where I would kiss him. I looked at Moonstone, who was still leaning in my forelegs. His grin disappeared. He straightened, and we were eye to eye.

Should I kiss him? He hadn’t separated from me. He leaned in. That’s a good sign, right? Gods, I was terrified of scaring off my best friend. What if this ruined -

“Can… can I kiss you?” I asked, my voice absent jest.

He blinked, seeming to register the question, and responded just as sincerely as I.

“Please do.”

I bridged the distance between us, and my lips met his. We turned our snouts perpendicular, and our tongues met, one another’s forks playing with and caressing the other. His claws found my chest, and I held him under his wings. I tasted the spices from his tea and felt the warmth of his breaths on my cheek. I could have stood there forever, letting the moment linger on for eternity. A dam broke, and everything fear had held back flooded into my chest. Eventually, we broke the kiss and gazed into one another’s eyes.

“I have wanted a genuine kiss with you for so long now. Every performance, I could tell we were doing it for the audience. Last night, when I fell… that one felt so much more real.”

“I - “, I lost the words, so I smiled at him and started again, bringing my claw up to caress his jaw. “You can have as many as you desire, Moonstone.”