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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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"Oh, I see," says the reporter. "You're very precocious!"
Mial grins brightly. "You bet."
"Anything else you'd like to say before I go write my piece?"
He shrugs. "Nah. It was nice talking to you! Bye!"
And just for the sake of theatrics, he teleports back to where he left his mom's scoot when he went to pick up his token.
And just for the sake of theatrics, he teleports back to where he left his mom's scoot when he went to pick up his token.
A little while later there is a fluff piece in a regional newspaper about him. It includes mention of the word "dragonishes" and prompts four angry letters to the editor.
Mial is delighted about the fluff piece in the regional newspaper.
When the issue with the letters to the editor gets published, he reads all four of them in a state of slowly escalating rage and then takes that copy of the newspaper to the bottom of the world with him so that he can assume his natural form and burn it to ash.
When the issue with the letters to the editor gets published, he reads all four of them in a state of slowly escalating rage and then takes that copy of the newspaper to the bottom of the world with him so that he can assume his natural form and burn it to ash.
Finnah thinks he's being dramatic. This happens whenever dragons find that someone who is in a position to receive letters has acknowledged shrens.
"Yeah," says Mial, "and that ticks me off." He stomps up to his room, jingling faintly - when he shifted, he dropped about a pocketful of tiny silver scales, and he picked them up rather than leaving them on the bottom of the world.
Aurin comes over a few days later.
"What's got you in a mood?" he asks, when he observes that Mial is in a mood.
"What's got you in a mood?" he asks, when he observes that Mial is in a mood.
"Ugh," says Mial. "You remember there was a story about me in the newspaper? Well, a bunch of dragons wrote in being lizards about it. 'I don't think it's necessary to profile individuals with this affliction in a widely read newspaper'," he quotes, and scowls. "What a load of crap."
"Oh." Pause. "Um, well, you seem to be coping better than the last time there was a problem about it."
He snorts. "Yeah, I'm mad instead of lumpy. I guess that's an improvement. You know what," he adds, "I think I'm gonna get serious about this scoot-racing thing. See how many more articles they'll write about me. See how many more nasty letters to the editor I have to set on fire afterward."
"How does that help?" wonders Aurin.
Mial grins. It is apparently possible to grin angrily.
"By making it necessary to profile individuals with this affliction in a widely read newspaper, obviously. And if some lizard doesn't wanna hear about me doing cool stuff just because I'm a shren, well, too bad."
"By making it necessary to profile individuals with this affliction in a widely read newspaper, obviously. And if some lizard doesn't wanna hear about me doing cool stuff just because I'm a shren, well, too bad."
"You seem really hung up on that wording," remarks Aurin.
He growls.
"It's just so - ugh! Like just the fact that I exist is so awful that no matter what I do with my life, it can't be worth talking about where somebody might hear, because then they'd have to think about shrens for half a degree!"
"It's just so - ugh! Like just the fact that I exist is so awful that no matter what I do with my life, it can't be worth talking about where somebody might hear, because then they'd have to think about shrens for half a degree!"
"Maybe they just didn't want the paper to mention that you're a shren," suggests Aurin.
He growls louder.
"What are they gonna do instead, lie and say I'm a dragon? I mean, the fact that I'm dragonish was half the point of the article!"
"What are they gonna do instead, lie and say I'm a dragon? I mean, the fact that I'm dragonish was half the point of the article!"
"I dunno," says Aurin, looking away.
"Ugh."
He starts pacing.
"I'm not mad at you, anyway, I don't wanna spend this whole visit yelling about dragons. Let's - let's play a game, I dunno, pick something."
He starts pacing.
"I'm not mad at you, anyway, I don't wanna spend this whole visit yelling about dragons. Let's - let's play a game, I dunno, pick something."
Aurin picks something.
They play it, once Mial manages to sit still long enough to take a turn. He calms down gradually. By the end of the visit he is mostly back to normal.
But even once he's no longer actively mad - and he has a few more flare-ups over the following week, when he lets himself get worked up about it again - he maintains his resolve to get serious about scoot racing. He doesn't quite actively seek media attention... but he is the youngest-equivalency formal scoot racer in the world; he checked. And he's good. As he puts more and more of his time into practicing, he starts winning more and more often. That's the kind of thing people write articles about, isn't it?
But even once he's no longer actively mad - and he has a few more flare-ups over the following week, when he lets himself get worked up about it again - he maintains his resolve to get serious about scoot racing. He doesn't quite actively seek media attention... but he is the youngest-equivalency formal scoot racer in the world; he checked. And he's good. As he puts more and more of his time into practicing, he starts winning more and more often. That's the kind of thing people write articles about, isn't it?
For big races, yes, it is. Reporters talk to him. Some of them try writing the articles in ways that don't draw attention to his species. Others avoid this, and get letters to their editors.
He is never interviewed by anyone from the Chronicle. One of its editors is a dragon.
He is never interviewed by anyone from the Chronicle. One of its editors is a dragon.
Well then maybe he'll just have to become bigger news.
That isn't actually why he decides he wants to design his own scoot. He wants to design his own scoot because he's familiar with and tired of all the flaws in the design of his mother's, and it's an interesting challenge that might actually keep him occupied for a good long while. The fact that it's another way to be strikingly unusual in a public forum is just a very nice bonus.
That isn't actually why he decides he wants to design his own scoot. He wants to design his own scoot because he's familiar with and tired of all the flaws in the design of his mother's, and it's an interesting challenge that might actually keep him occupied for a good long while. The fact that it's another way to be strikingly unusual in a public forum is just a very nice bonus.
Well, it'll take a pretty long time.
In this pretty long time, Aurin discovers girls. It becomes pretty difficult to get him to talk about anything else.
In this pretty long time, Aurin discovers girls. It becomes pretty difficult to get him to talk about anything else.