Dragons' Day
First Day of the Fourth Month 293 AC
At Lya's suggestion you had taken a break from swimming against the tide of ink and parchment to spend some time with your wards, to see how they are doing and listen to any concerns they may have which are not urgent enough to come to you with, but still important to their minds. At least that had been the plan to begin with. Alas that you had not accounted for one crucial factor: babies. Your three youngest wards are now eight months of age and beginning to take their first toddling steps, engaging in the age-old pastime of lap-jumping, thus rendering any chance at discussion moot in all the babbling and baby-talk.
Perhaps the rest of you might have lasted longer before succumbing had these particular babies not had a unfair advantage over most of their kind, the ability to change their form to just what any given playmate would find the most adorable, a skill they had been practicing on their nursemaids for months now.
A pudgy little fist pokes at your chest, reminding you of the giggling bundle you were currently playing host to. The child, who seems to somewhat prefer being a girl over a boy unlike her two siblings, is currently sporting milk-pale skin and almost impossibly vivid crimson hair. She stares as you imperiously then points to where Dany is currently entertaining one of her brothers by flying about in hatchling form.
"Do dat!" She echoes the words with a much clearer mental sending, obviously still dubious about this talking business, though she seems to be picking it up with uncommon speed.
"I can't. I wouldn't fit," you explain. You concentrate on an image of looking back at your full draconic bulk with other people nearby to give her a sense of scale.
That gives her a rather different idea: "Wanna go up! Big Up!"
Eight months is a little young to go on dragonback, so you fulfill her wish a different way. With a thought you grant her the power to fly like a feather on the wind.
Peels of joyous laughter echo around the room as she bounces up and around the room, her features twisting and changing until her hair is silver and her eyes violet: "Me Dwagon!" she shouts, waving her arms dramatically.
"I don't think Dawnfyre will ever forgive me," Valaena confesses, laughing. "I'll never be able to look at a dragon the same way again."
Moments thereafter her brothers ask to fly too and then the three 'dragons' chase each other around the room occasionally making huffing sounds to 'breathe fire'.