Colchicine

Colchicine was not happy when they woke up. Their tongue tasted the air, and they frowned as their eyes slowly opened. Gone...He was gone. Of course he was. “Where is that awful boy?” they grumbled, almost despairing, as they uncoiled.

“That awful boy” was their young son, Cytidine. The hatchling was at that stage in his life where he was ready to leave his mother’s side and discover the joys of independence. It was a mixed blessing for the clan. On one hand, his boldness and cleverness assured them of yet another helpful clanmate; on the other hand, there was such a thing as being too bold and clever, and it seemed he was leaning in that direction. At her clanmates’ behest, Colchicine had taken to watching their son more closely. But more of than not, he managed to slip away—he was a Bogsneak like themselves, after all.

The lair was not an ideal place for children. Colchicine frowned as they peered at the door. It was latched, but Cytidine was growing fast, and by now it was no trouble for him to undo the lock and then slink out to play...among the corrosive chemicals, the unstable equipment, the poisonous fumes....

“Cytidine?” Colchicine called out as they lumbered away. One of Cytidine’s favorite hangouts was the clan garden. If it turned out he wasn’t there, well, some of Colchicine’s own friends were bound to be nearby. They could be pressured to help. They hoped.

The Bogsneak passed through the lair. Their neck and tail wove sinuously as they adroitly dodged the many things that made up life in clan. Springs bounded loose, shards of glass tinkled across the floor. There were chemicals splashing, clouds of smoke roiling....Dragons looked up as they passed.

“Colchi!” — “Hey, Colch.” — “Good morning, Colchicine!”

“Morning, morning, and good morning to you, too.” Colchicine didn’t lose their preoccupied air. At the end of the hall, they faintly muttered, “Where is that incorrigible boy?” They paused, looked back at the other dragons with a glittering green eye. The other scientists mumbled to themselves and spread their paws. Their chorus solidified, more or less, into, “We dunno.”

With that, Colchicine unlatched the door and continued on their way.

The lab was mostly made out of metal. The ply-steel walls were sterile, cold, and strangely resistant to rust. Which was just as well, for the lair existed in a patch of foliage. This part of the swamp was unusually vibrant, perhaps because of the fumes and magic leaking out from the lair. The laboratories rose in the center, gleaming silver in the middle of the swamp; from there, the greenery spread out, sculpted by the dragons and held in place by a mysterious sort of truce between vegetation and dragonkind.

There were many places for an inquisitive child to play in...and many places to get into trouble, too. Colchicine paused at the garden and cast a quick look around. There were a few visitors, mostly couples who were looking to spend some sweet time alone together. The crash of a Bogsneak breaking through the undergrowth put a damper on these plans.

“Have you seen a little Bogsneak, about so high? He’s our son.” Colchicine held a paw off the ground to illustrate. The nearest visitor, a Nocturne, shook his head. “No, ma’am. It’s just been us in the garden since this morning.”

“Yes, he’s right,” his mate agreed eagerly. And then, as Colchicine moved away, she muttered, “Our son? But there was only one of her.”

Indeed, Colchicine had heard that before. But that wasn’t important now. They left the Garden behind them and moved into the Growth of the lair. “Cytidine? Cy? Son, it’s too early in the morning for—”

With a great rustle, the branches ahead parted. A long neck extended down, and the Shadow Imperial’s eyes blinked curiously. A gleaming grin lit her dark face.

“Here, Colchicine, what’s the trouble?” Corosolic inquired. As Colchicine breathed a sigh of relief, the Imperial slowly detached herself from the tree. She slid down and folded her wings. Pouches of plants, medicinal and otherwise, hung heavily against her flanks.

“Cytidine’s gone and moseyed off again.” Colchicine huffed and stamped a foot. “This is the third time this week....”

“He slipped away as you were taking breakfast?”

“No, he left the room while I was still asleep.”

“Mm.” Corosolic nodded idly. “Good boy.” She noticed Colchicine’s withering glare, but only laughed in response. “Now, cheer up, Madam Grumpy-face. We’ll find your boy. He couldn’t have gone far with those short little legs of his.” She waggled her own toes to illustrate.

“I swear, if he’s gone and fallen into Cacodyl Creek—”

“It’ll be an entirely different problem. But the point still stands. Have you checked the garden? —Good, that’s one place done. It’s great to meet new visitors, but I’m not a fan of mush.” She pulled a kissy face. Colchicine snorted in spite of themselves, and a few of the visitors cast disparaging glares in their direction.

“Come on. Let’s go back inside, ask the others. Hmm, maybe Calico...I hope she hasn’t eaten him. He’ll go right down her throat like a candied morsel.”

The search seemed to go a lot faster then. Colchicine could calm down with someone else to help them, and Corosolic’s gentle voice opened up more avenues for them. They eventually narrowed down the little Bogsneak’s location.

“Cytidine? Hmm...He did look like you.” The old dragon blinked curiously at Colchicine. “Saw him a while back, bustling down the hall like he owned the place. He went into that room.”

“Maybe he’s still there. Thanks, Gunther,” Corosolic replied. Colchicine was already moving; they couldn’t shake Gunther’s words—“like he owned the place”—from their head.

And there he was. Cytidine had always been more interested in plants, so it was surprising to see him in Colchicine’s lab, with its metal walls and its long tables of enigmatic equipment. He had climbed onto a bench to look at a row of peculiar jars, and he gasped when his mother loomed up behind him. “Mama...!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Colchicine hissed through clenched teeth. Their tail thumped angrily on the floor. Gunther peered in quickly through the doorway, and then he sighed and pattered off.

“I’m sorry.” The hatchling hung his head. “But it’s just...You were asleep, and I knew you would go to work. So you would find me here.”

“Couldn’t you just stay in the garden again?”

“No,” Cytidine said flatly. He scowled. “I don’t like mush.”

Corosolic couldn’t hold back a laugh. She appeared in the doorway then, smiling hugely. Cytidine’s eyes lit up when he saw her.

He swarmed off the stool and bustled over to her, sniffing curiously at the pouches. The Imperial asked him, “So you like flowers, don’t you?”

“Flowers are nice. All plants and leaves...They grow.” The hatchling spoke as if it were the most obvious thing. His emerald eyes shone in wonder.

Colchicine found themselves softening—well, he was their son, after all. Grudgingly, they told him, “You might as well stay here. I’ve spent too much time looking for you, and now it’s time for me to work. You’d better behave, though.”

Cytidine bobbed his head.

“I mean it. You’d better behave, or I will ask Corosolic to take you outside—”

“Really?” He seemed very pleased by that.

“—and you’ll stay in the garden the whole day.”

His face crumpled. “Oooaaaww, Moooom!” Behind him, Corosolic smothered a laugh again.

“I’ll bring you breakfast,” the Imperial promised, and away she went. Cytidine sniffed at the plants that had fallen from her pouches. He gathered them up and then retreated to his mother’s side.

Colchicine had been preparing to throw more rules at him, but instead, he sat quietly, carefully separating, classifying the plants he’d picked up. They didn’t doubt that he would stay still this time, prior misadventures notwithstanding. He was right where he wanted to be, after all. Someday, he would have to get a lab of his own—this room was too small to contain his intellect as well.

Deep within Colchicine’s mind, two souls conferred with each other: “We’ve done a good job with him, haven’t we?” Blue inquired. They looked down at the little Bogsneak, at how interested he was. Occasionally his tongue flicked out, sampling the air, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he worked.

“Yes,” Red replied, “I suppose we have.” They looked at the budding young scientist beside them, and finally, together, they smiled.

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users