Sioni

Scrolls are strewn across the high of the grassy field and each one is fitted in with its neighbors and held in place with stones at its corners. The scene laid out on so many scrolls is a puzzle of meticulously drawn white specks overtop a ground so indigo it seems black. The space between the stars is not black, after all. Rather it is a deep, velvety blue and it's just this shade Sioni has sought to capture in his star maps.

The imperial sits before a crude wooden easel (he is no carpenter, but the attempt is fair) with his wings held same as his breath and his tail curled about his seated rump. With great precision and many glances at the sky to ascertain each star's precise location, he replicates the night sky with a finely pointed squirrel hair brush in one hand and a jar of bonewhite pigment in the other.

He pauses. Looks around him and watches as the wind that cuts up the hillside tugs at the corners of the scrolls around him. The hill has, for the moment, been transformed into a mirrored replica of the heavens and if he turns his head just so it seems that the stars are all around him and he among them.

"Sun's coming," murmurs the bear at his feet. His great square head is lifted, but he does not move to stand up.

At the farthest edge of the sky, Venus begins her ascent and with her comes a faint, feathering of light.

"So it is." But there's no rush in the dragon. No rush at all.

~Bio done by jillbobill