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Aurin holds his mother's hand as she leads him from the street to his aunt and uncle's house. He's been here only a couple of times, and can't remember most of them distinctly; they're sort of awkwardly related, his dead father's half-brother and the wife thereof. But now they have a baby parunia, and that means there is a dragon related to Aurin who is not too far from his age, only thirty-one years younger. This is apparently the sort of relation that it will be particularly enriching for Aurin to meet. They can do this now instead of waiting a month, because parunias don't die when they're babies; this one is safe, unlike the miscellaneous cousins on his mother's side he's never met because they are all in too much danger to get attached to (and have all succumbed to that danger). So here they are. Even though it was a very long flight and he couldn't ride his mother for takeoff and landing when she had to be a heron, only for the middle part.
Alys knocks on the door.
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He squirms. "What if you're squishing me," he says, "with your too-bigness."
"I am not though."
"Bah."
But he snuggles her. Even though she is too big.
But he snuggles her. Even though she is too big.
Snuggle! Purr.
greatcomposure
Purr snuggle.
Shren growth is very regular, the same as dragon growth. Slow but steady.
When Mial complains to his mother that Finnah is too big, she gets both of them to sit still for a tick and be measured. And she looks up the numbers.
Finnah is the right amount of bigness.
Mial is noticeably lagging.
She digs into the literature - and yes, there are reports coming in of slowed growth on this drug. None of them quite this dramatic. It shows no sign of stopping after the potion is discontinued, though.
Damn.
Shren growth is very regular, the same as dragon growth. Slow but steady.
When Mial complains to his mother that Finnah is too big, she gets both of them to sit still for a tick and be measured. And she looks up the numbers.
Finnah is the right amount of bigness.
Mial is noticeably lagging.
She digs into the literature - and yes, there are reports coming in of slowed growth on this drug. None of them quite this dramatic. It shows no sign of stopping after the potion is discontinued, though.
Damn.
Indeed. Well, nothing for it, apparently.
It's not like Mial will be using this form once he's twenty anyway. It doesn't matter how big it is.
Aurin can't really see the difference. Mial is bigger than he used to be and smaller than Aurin, which seems about right. But this doesn't mean that when he picks up on Mial's disgruntlement he is above saying:
"You're so teeny!"
It's not like Mial will be using this form once he's twenty anyway. It doesn't matter how big it is.
Aurin can't really see the difference. Mial is bigger than he used to be and smaller than Aurin, which seems about right. But this doesn't mean that when he picks up on Mial's disgruntlement he is above saying:
"You're so teeny!"
greatcomposure
Mial scowls at his cousin. "Shut up!"
(Koridaar tries not to laugh. Oh, she loves her affronted little menace so much.)
(Koridaar tries not to laugh. Oh, she loves her affronted little menace so much.)
"Teeny tiny little small, um, miniscule, um -" Aurin has run out of Leraal adjectives. "Aw, and it's rude to speak other languages in front of people who're not - uh -"
Inspiration strikes.
"Dragonish?" he suggests.
"Dragonish?" he suggests.
Aurin looks at him dubiously.
"Dragonish! Dragonish," Mial says triumphantly. "We're dragonish. That is the thing we are that speaks languages and turns into things except I'm not old enough yet but when I am I will. Dragonish."
"I don't think there's supposed to be a word for that," says Aurin. "Or there would be already."
"Well, but you needed it, and I made it, and now it's there," says Mial.
"It is rude to speak languages in front of people who do not speak them," Alys says. "That doesn't require a new word."
"That's not an are not, though," Mial points out. "That's a do not. He said people who are not a thing only there wasn't a word for the thing so I made a word for the thing and now there is one."
Aurin looks dubious. "Maybe I ought to've said 'do not', though. Or, um."
"Are not speakers of those languages," suggests Alys.
"Are not speakers of those languages," suggests Alys.
Mial scoffs. "What's wrong with my word? It's a good word."
"There isn't supposed to be that word," says Aurin. "It doesn't mean a thing, it's. It's like having a word for socks and hats together."
greatcomposure
"Who says there's not supposed to be that word?" he demands. "Mom, how's my word sound to you?"
"It seems like a perfectly respectable addition to Leraal," she murmurs.
"See!" says Mial. "Because it is! It does too mean a thing, we are a thing, I was a dragon and now I'm just one thing different I am dragonish."
"It seems like a perfectly respectable addition to Leraal," she murmurs.
"See!" says Mial. "Because it is! It does too mean a thing, we are a thing, I was a dragon and now I'm just one thing different I am dragonish."
"It's like socks and hats," says Aurin. "I'm sorry you aren't a dragon but you still aren't."
"Socks and hats are both clothes," says Mial. "If they were the only two kinds of clothes they would still both be clothes. We have way more stuff in common than socks and hats, and there aren't even other things that are more like just one of us than we're like each other, if we were anything else there would already be a word but I guess everyone just hates talking about shrens that much!"
Aurin shrinks and goes over to his mother.
greatcomposure
Mial growls and climbs his mother, who administers soothing snuggles.
"Did you mean to yell at your cousin like that?" she asks him quietly.
"...no," he says.
"Is there something you want to say?"
Mial sighs. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Aurin," he says sincerely. "...But I'm still right."
"Did you mean to yell at your cousin like that?" she asks him quietly.
"...no," he says.
"Is there something you want to say?"
Mial sighs. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Aurin," he says sincerely. "...But I'm still right."
"Well, don't yell," says Aurin.
greatcomposure
"If I find somebody whose fault it is that there wasn't a word I'm sure gonna yell at them," Mial mutters. His mother pets him.