Chapter Text
Dear Diary,
It's scorching HOT here. Sweltering.
Today was like no other, painful and arduous like always. The desert heat is constantly bothering me. Keeps seeping into my scales like unwanted worms. Dragons around me have no sense of what is right and what is wrong. There's always some cunning dragon around the corner, either asking for a fight or looking at me wih this seductive look in his eyes. I can read their minds, and it makes me shudder everytime I see them think of obscene and unspeakable thoughts of what to do with me.
it's irritating and terrifying. I hate it.
Where is Qibli when I need him? Ah yes, always servicing the queen every few seconds. His work is ALWAYS more important than his NightWing 'love', so much so anytime we have dinner and there's a political situation (which, by the way, can be handled by some other official), he jumps up and says "I need to go. Important matters blah blah blah."
Where was the Qibli I liked in Jade Mountain Academy? The one who would crack jokes, the one who would use logic to diffuse a situation, the one who would jump up and defend me? Where is he now?
And most of all, where was his 'going out of my way to help' personality? Or did he only reserve it for Queen Thorn?!
I think I've had enough of this… but I am a loyal NightWing. Not deceptive. Not cunning and evil, unlike what Winter says.
I think I should hold on a little longer. Be more patient, right?
Anyway, hope to write again, Diary.
I think I should hold on a little longer.
That's what she had been telling herself for the past few months. Still, she doesn't get anywhere with that attitude.
Moon sighs. She covers the inkwell with its designated lid, searching for her handkerchief to wipe her claws from the black ink. This diary… she meant to write down beautiful memories of her and Qibli's adventures through life, to document exciting and affectionate moments she would share with him, but now it is worn slightly from her frustration over the months.
She vents to that diary about the heat. The criminals of The SandWing Kingdom. The way Qibli thinks minor Queen matters are more significant than her happiness. The way he leaves for work for long hours while she stays at home alone. The fact she doesn't have friends here. No one to talk to. No new scrolls or books. The pain of constant dehydration.
She hates it. She wants to leave.
But Qibli seemingly and subtly won't let her. Those pleading, wide obsidian eyes you could always get yourself lost in. Pulling you in like a whirpool of darkness. She scoffs.
He wouldn't even let her out of the house for any wants or snacks without him accompanying her. All because a few weeks ago, a random dragon had injured her in the market (minor on the arm) because she didn't belong. True, but Pyrrhia shoud be a peaceful place due to all of the Queens at peace, and any tribe should be welcome in another. (Except IceWings; always so attached to tradition and superior thinking, but that must've been destroyed by Queen Snowfall.)
And quote: "Dragons here might want to take you all for themselves, to take you away from me, or to kill you, which I will not let that happen to you."
Moon understands that logical possessive-ness, but there was something - a missing puzzle piece - insinuated in the tone, that made the statement… seemingly forced and exaggerated. But she couldn't put a claw on it. She simply couldn't.
And even though Qibli said all thoughts were welcome to be said out loud, she couldn't help herself at that time to peer into his head. Unfortunately, he hasd worn skyfire. Weird.
And when she asked why, he had said, "Rumours of another mindreader here. Wouldn't want to risk it."
Again, hiding something.
Moon groans at the memories. Too nostalgic, protective yet… duplicitous in some way or another.
She shakes her head, attempting to clear it up, before walking to the kitchen. Her talons, hatched with rainforest grace, click softy and dully against the sandstone itiles of her silent home, that and her racing mind filling the lonely and deafening silence.
Her mind was never, is never and will never be quiet so long as she stays in the SandWing Kingdom. She barely does anything. No exploring. No admiring the 'nature' of the barren landscape surrounding her home. No new scrolls nor any new books. No canvas and paint to vent her pain. No nearby or SandWing female friends she could talk to.
Only two options were ever available for her mind. To either analyse and scruntinise her past memories of her and Qibli post-JMA and comparing it to the memories of her time in school, or go and risk it to even try and listen to the thoughts of SandWing lowlifes and criminals, and three moons, the option where she didn't go insane the fastest (yes, she checked it with her visions) was the first option.
And holy moons, Moon imagined that only a deranged dragon or dragoness would ever want to read the thoughts of these criminals surrounding her area. She shudders. Those cruel thoughts of killing, stealing and some other unspeakable and lewd actions… she'd rather eat those hallucinogenic frogs and have her scales filled with insects than listen to them.
And if she would be honest with herself, she would rather live in The Ice Kingdom than this nightmare of disturbing lowlifes and monstruous heatwaves. Even if she would be discriminated there, you were at least surrounded by dragons of honesty and with a basic sense of morality.
Moon sighs (again). When could she leave?
Again, those thoughts of leaving. Where do you want to go if you are loyal to Qibli and love him?
Always trapped in a vicious cycle of vicious thoughts.
She scans the shelves for a snack. No mangoes. Right. Maybe dried ones? There are… a few left before another packet. That's good.
She takes the remaining dried mangoes, puts them in a bowl and carries it off to the living room. Random thoughts take over her mind. She cannot be bothered anymore to push them away.
As she settles into one of the camelskin cushions around the living room, a knock is heard on her door.
Who could that be?
The door creaks open, and a familiar male's head pops through the crack of the door. The pale face, a scar of long since dried blood slashed across his snout, freckles scattering around his face like scattered stars, and of course, his obsidian eyes that could pull you in.
Moon's eyes widen.
"Qibli? Why are you home so early?"