Maybe I didn’t really get out of bed today. Maybe I’m still sleeping and all of this is just a dream. Maybe I actually rolled out of bed, catching my head on the sharp corner of the nightstand and this is all some sort of delusion caused by trauma and blood loss as my body lays dying on the floor. There is no possible way that this is a dragon.
The animal on the floor finally sits down and looks at me. Then, it burps a perfect smoke ring.
Given the events of the day, I feel it’s completely reasonable to turn the sign on the door to ‘closed’, sit on the floor, and allow myself a round of hysterics. It seems completely within my rights. The sign is hardly going to do much good with the door wide open, but given that it’s a weekday, foot traffic should be slow enough for me to complete my breakdown in relative peace. If I ignore my weird audience of one.
The second I sit down, the odd little dragon – no, lizard – that acts like a cat, climbs up into my lap. After turning three circles, it lays down on my lap and sighs, happily. Now that it is making itself comfortable, I can examine it more closely. As the man had said, its scales are all shades of blue, which I had seen before. Up close, however, it's obvious that her scales range in many shades — aqua to sapphire — and they seem to shimmer, shift and change in the sunlight. Her tiny wings are folded in and she’s wrapped her long tail around herself. Her eyes are a striking silver, making the black slash of her vertical pupils stand out. She looks up at me and cocks her head as if to say, “What’s the problem?”
Hesitantly, I reach up with my hand and use two fingers to touch her head again. She closes her eyes,leaning into my fingers and makes that weird purring sound again.
Surprised, I look up at the man, who is watching us, smiling.
“Told you. Her one.”
“Who, exactly, is she? Like… What is her name? What’syourname, for that matter?”
I have been alone with an unknown, muscle bound man for at least twenty minutes without even getting a name. Not very badass, true crime loving, feminist of me, I know. Given the events of said twenty minutes though, I think it’s understandable. He hasn’t tried to abduct me or kill me or stuff me in a freezer.Yet. I guess the day is still relatively young, although it feels like an eternity has passed since I left home this morning.
“She is Calida,” He pauses. “I’m Flint.” He offers another bow, much like the one he used on Betsy.
“What is with the bowing? Where the hell are you from?”
He blinks at me, slowly. “As a warrior, it’s expected that I bow to females.” His eyes sharpen on my face, like he’s looking for something. “I’m from Goira.”
It feels like the world has just tipped on its side. Maybe Iambleeding out on my bedroom floor from a head injury. My head does one slow, sloshy spin.
“That’s not possible,” I whisper, absolutely horrified. “Goira doesn’t exist.”
He frowns, making to kneel down next to me. When I hold my hand out to ward him off, he huffs out a breath.
“Of course it exists! I should know. I was born and raised there, trained as a warrior there, defended it in battle.”
“No!’ I insist, my voice rising. “No, no, no. It’s not possible.”
“What do you mean? It’s more than possible — it’s fact.”
“Goira doesn’t exist.” My voice is continuing to rise, but I can’t seem to make it stop. The small dragon jumps off my lap and walks towards Flint, probably to try to get away from the crazy lady who is yelling and rocking back and forth on the floor.
“Goira doesn’t exist because I MADE IT UP!”
CHAPTER SIX
I’m still on the floor, rocking and crying, struggling to breathe. Part of my brain stands back, horrified, thinkingLovely, Casie. You’re having a complete breakdown and panic attack in front of this incredibly hot guy. Perfect. Pull yourself together! Tits up, for fucks sake!But the rest of my brain is understandably reeling from the idea that said hot man is from a fucking world I made upfor a story.
Goira is the power capital of the EnchantedRealm, the Fae realm. The Fae realm exists parallel to the mortal realm, accessible only if you have powers born of the Fae. Goira is full of artists and dreamers, quaint shops and museums. It’s surrounded by forests and mountains, full of dragons, wild game, alicorns and faeries. The power comes from being built on the land surrounding The Three. Separate, yet together, as they intersect repeatedly and, from the air, look as though they are braided together. A mesmerizing spectacle, each flowing with its own hue — crimson, azure, and emerald. The rivers’ surfaces shimmer under the light of Goira’s triple moons, casting ethereal reflections that dance across the banks. All begin in separate peaks in the Misty Mountains and wind through the diverse landscape, before meeting at a central point, where they form a natural boundary for the heart of the Fae — Goira. When you’re close, the air is filled with the sound of gentle rushing and melodic whispers, as if the rivers themselves sing ancient songs. A fair aroma of wildflowers and fresh rain pervades the area, no matter the weather, mingling with the cool mist that rises from the waters.
It’s easy to see my town in the origins of Goira. The shops, the flowers, the sense of community were borrowed straight from here.
Goira, home of… well, I’m not even sure yet. I see the place in my mind– whispering rivers and beautiful red weeping willows. I can almost hear the waterfalls in the distance, but I haven’t fully fleshed out that scene yet.
I simply haven’t seen enough.
Goira, where Princess Aisling is currently battling emotionless hybrids. Where she may or may not ride a dragon to fight some psychotic cat. Where she battles,side by side, with a handsome Fae warrior, who looks like…
Fuck.
Who looks a hell of a lot like the guy currently watching me like a train wreck he can’t look away from. He looks like he wants to comfort me, whilst simultaneously looking like he would love nothing more than to run for the hills and never look back at this display of uncomfortable emotion.
“Water,” I croak, gesturing to the small mini fridge behind the counter. “Please.”
