Two Weirdos Looking at Stars

Ometeotl found Anomaly at the edge of the black meadow, where the grass thinned into pale stone and the sky opened wide enough to swallow every thought. He was already looking upward. The red dragon lay in a loose coil, his long body folded around itself like a ribbon of night and blood. His bone beaks were tilted toward the stars. Now and then they clicked together,slow, hollow, patient sounds, like stones tapping on each other.

Clack.

Clack clack.

Ometeotl lowered herself beside him with a soft rustle of leaves and heavy limbs. She was only a little smaller than him, though her shape seemed broader when she settled, her wings folding over her sides. Along her head, neck, shoulders, ribs, and flanks, at least a hundred yellow eyes blinked open and shut in thoughtful waves. Some watched the sky. Some watched Anomaly. Some watched the tiny white flowers shifting in the night wind.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.

Anomaly’s beaks parted slightly.

Clack.

Ometeotl smiled, she didn’t particularly understand him but that was okay. Above them, the stars spread in a thick, silver dusting across the dark. No magic moved through the meadow. No strange light came from either dragon, except the pale shine caught in Anomaly’s eyes when he turned his skull head. The world was quiet but not silent, the grass whispered, distant water murmuring, insects calling from unseen hollows. Anomaly shifted his coil, making room for her tail. His claws scraped lightly against stone.

He opened his mouth and slammed it shut twice. Clack Clack. When he turned to look back at the other dragon, he tilted his head and then glanced back up. “Are you asking which one I like best?” Ometeotl guessed. He held still and then nodded.

“That one,” she said, lifting her chin toward a cluster of seven bright stars. A dozen of her eyes narrowed at once to focus. Anomaly stared at the cluster for a long while.

Clack.

The red dragon’s tail curled tighter, perhaps in a comforting way, even though it wasn’t particularly needed. Though he rarely, if ever, spoke, Ometeotl didn’t mind. She found the clacking of his beaks almost soothing in a way. Ometeotl rested her head near his shoulder. Many of her eyes remained open, gazing upward. Others closed, not from tiredness, but from calm.

“Stars tell so many stories,” she said. “They watch scales grow dull, mountains split, rivers change. They watch creatures become stories. They have seen so much and yet we may never know the tales they could tell.”

Anomaly’s nearest eye turned toward her. His beaks clicked once, very softly. The wind moved over them. It tugged at Anomaly’s ragged edges but he didn’t mind. For a while, neither moved. The two dragons simply listened to the sky in their different ways.

Then a star fell.

It cut a white line across the dark and vanished behind the far trees.

Anomaly perked up, his heads clacking against each other in a way that might have been painful but he didn’t seem to react. His beaks snapped once, sharp and almost excited. Clack clack clack! Ometeotl lifted her head, and smiled. “Lucky.”

His voice was smooth, not ragged as one would think a dragon who spoke little’s voice might sound. It echoed, a chorus of two voices, to minds that thought the same and were the same. He stared at the place where it had disappeared. His claws flexed into the earth. Every single one of the dragoness’ eyes widened just slightly. She had not expected him to speak and she most definitely hadn’t expected him to sound the way he did. Then her eyes softened and she spoke.

“Lucky indeed.”