（ love is the only reason sasuke doesn't get the most sarcastic answer alive, actually. ）
I think it's because people tend to look for things in the natural world that could resemble something supernatural, you know? If you've ever seen a river from far away, you might mistake it for a long, twisting snake. Or maybe a dragon.
（ he prefers creatures associated with water, by and large. the element is innate to him in a way little else feels to be. ）
But with these ones it was literal. They were sentient, but their style of communicating was like nothing I'd ever encountered. It was like... empathy, almost. They communicated with colour shifts in their scales, but... if you touched one, you could feel its emotions like a colour. Blue for water, for tranquillity. Yellow for warmth and joy. That sort of thing. The colours would bleed together to impart more complex emotions. But it wasn't... ah, it wasn't distinct. Their colours would change when encountering yours. Like sadness was a dull grey, like a bleak sea — but if you touched one of the little ones when it was happy, you'd borrow from each other. That's how their communities helped each other. If enough of them touched you, bad emotions would dilute until everyone carried just a little, and the burden was lessened.
They had these vast, underground caverns where they lived, but they'd come up on the land to sunbathe and play. They'd lay eggs in the sand, and they'd incubate for centuries until they hatched. I showed up during one of their seasonal beach vacations. The little ones just sort of came up and rubbed all over me — green was curiosity, by the way — and they tried to get me to play. The oldest dragon is called, ah... 'She Who Encircles The World As If It Were A Living Pearl', I think that's how it would translate. She's massive, couldn't even begin to fit on the beach, and she displaced enough water to raise the shoreline by fifteen, twenty meters. I'm not entirely sure that the tidal phases on that planet weren't just caused by her — we're talking miles, and miles long. But once she heard that there was some weird dude on two legs hanging out, she wanted to talk to me. She rested her head on the beach and sort of burrowed into it until I could see her eyes if I was standing. Her ability to communicate was more advanced than the younger ones. It was almost like talking.
（ he remembers the way her scales had glittered, flickering like something electric, colours he'd never seen before or since, that have no name he knows. how the sheer scale of her had seemed so alien. impossible. illogical. what did she eat to survive? and what the hell had she eaten to get to that size in the first place? then again, he doesn't need food or water or air to live either — so perhaps it's not so singular as all that. ）
I'd never met anyone older than me up until then, save the other gods. It was humbling. And every time I felt... any time I was scared, or overwhelmed, or hurt, or angry she'd just — rub against me, or lick me, or give me a nudge — I literally cannot overstate how massive she was, by the way, so this would've been hilarious to witness — until she'd blotted out what I was feeling with these mellow blues or soft yellows or pink or orange. Orange was love, you know?
（ he doesn't remember the name sasuke had given him, of the boy he'd loved. but he does remember the colour. ）
She's still alive, Pearl. I go back every once in a while. I got to see one of their broods hatch, all these tiny, newborn dragons aglow with one of two emotions: hunger or play. I'd play music for them on the beach and they'd turn into a glittering fuchsia wave as they listened, rapt. They had music too, but it was different. Underwater, sounds like singing. They'd pick their caverns based on how much they liked the acoustics.
（ there's a bit of a laugh, then: ）
Pearl let me ride her exactly once. It barely felt like moving — she told me I felt like some sort of sea louse squirming around on her back, which is almost the worst thing I've ever been called. It's one of the only worlds I've been to where there's no war, no conflict that isn't just animals needing to eat. It's another place I'd love to take you one day.
here there be dragons
I think it's because people tend to look for things in the natural world that could resemble something supernatural, you know? If you've ever seen a river from far away, you might mistake it for a long, twisting snake. Or maybe a dragon.
（ he prefers creatures associated with water, by and large. the element is innate to him in a way little else feels to be. ）
But with these ones it was literal. They were sentient, but their style of communicating was like nothing I'd ever encountered. It was like... empathy, almost. They communicated with colour shifts in their scales, but... if you touched one, you could feel its emotions like a colour. Blue for water, for tranquillity. Yellow for warmth and joy. That sort of thing. The colours would bleed together to impart more complex emotions. But it wasn't... ah, it wasn't distinct. Their colours would change when encountering yours. Like sadness was a dull grey, like a bleak sea — but if you touched one of the little ones when it was happy, you'd borrow from each other. That's how their communities helped each other. If enough of them touched you, bad emotions would dilute until everyone carried just a little, and the burden was lessened.
They had these vast, underground caverns where they lived, but they'd come up on the land to sunbathe and play. They'd lay eggs in the sand, and they'd incubate for centuries until they hatched. I showed up during one of their seasonal beach vacations. The little ones just sort of came up and rubbed all over me — green was curiosity, by the way — and they tried to get me to play. The oldest dragon is called, ah... 'She Who Encircles The World As If It Were A Living Pearl', I think that's how it would translate. She's massive, couldn't even begin to fit on the beach, and she displaced enough water to raise the shoreline by fifteen, twenty meters. I'm not entirely sure that the tidal phases on that planet weren't just caused by her — we're talking miles, and miles long. But once she heard that there was some weird dude on two legs hanging out, she wanted to talk to me. She rested her head on the beach and sort of burrowed into it until I could see her eyes if I was standing. Her ability to communicate was more advanced than the younger ones. It was almost like talking.
（ he remembers the way her scales had glittered, flickering like something electric, colours he'd never seen before or since, that have no name he knows. how the sheer scale of her had seemed so alien. impossible. illogical. what did she eat to survive? and what the hell had she eaten to get to that size in the first place? then again, he doesn't need food or water or air to live either — so perhaps it's not so singular as all that. ）
I'd never met anyone older than me up until then, save the other gods. It was humbling. And every time I felt... any time I was scared, or overwhelmed, or hurt, or angry she'd just — rub against me, or lick me, or give me a nudge — I literally cannot overstate how massive she was, by the way, so this would've been hilarious to witness — until she'd blotted out what I was feeling with these mellow blues or soft yellows or pink or orange. Orange was love, you know?
（ he doesn't remember the name sasuke had given him, of the boy he'd loved. but he does remember the colour. ）
She's still alive, Pearl. I go back every once in a while. I got to see one of their broods hatch, all these tiny, newborn dragons aglow with one of two emotions: hunger or play. I'd play music for them on the beach and they'd turn into a glittering fuchsia wave as they listened, rapt. They had music too, but it was different. Underwater, sounds like singing. They'd pick their caverns based on how much they liked the acoustics.
（ there's a bit of a laugh, then: ）
Pearl let me ride her exactly once. It barely felt like moving — she told me I felt like some sort of sea louse squirming around on her back, which is almost the worst thing I've ever been called. It's one of the only worlds I've been to where there's no war, no conflict that isn't just animals needing to eat. It's another place I'd love to take you one day.