A young human who could tell the gnome Bribrid was actually a dragon asked in a soft whisper. "Could I please have two small scales? I want to make my moms necklaces for their birthdays." He showed several very small pieces of metal already shaped similar to a butterfly's body. "My mom's wife has silver wings." The other necklace was already done, this one was a small blue and yellow agate shaped like a kitten. "And my mom loves cats." -- Anon Guest
For all wanderers who find it necessary to travel in some form of disguise, the worst thing they can encounter is someone blessed with Truesight. There is also Soulsight, which can be worse for all parties involved. Most who have such vision attempt to keep their impressions to themselves. If they must say something, they try to remain discrete.
Zarid knew to keep things quiet. It was clear that the Dragon visiting town didn't want to be known as one. She had a perfect opportunity to complete her gift all the same.
It never hurt to ask politely.
Zarid had to squint a little to see what other eyes saw, and thus move through the phantasmal image of the Gnomish figure's truth. It would not harm her, and had not interacted with anything else. Nevertheless, with her eyes open, Zarid found the truth of the Gnome difficult to ignore. At least, not until she got within conversation range of the Gnomish disguise.
"I beg your pardon, sir... I believe you might be able to help me gather some silver scales?"
Instant suspicion. "And how did you gain that belief?" he asked.
"I mean no harm, sir, but I can see." The emphasis let him know that Zarid had the sight. "If you find that disturbing, I will be on my way."
"Please leave me be," said the Dragon guised as a Gnome.
Zarid took care to bid a polite farewell in the Gnomish style. "Steady and fine work Artisan." She took her leave to a table outside the local tavern. Sat with a tankard of ginger ale and a small conciliatory cake, and considered her options. So she didn't get Dragon scales. There were other... less amazing options. Trading for glossy shells from the wandering traders was going to be expensive. Finding the right kind of stone via the local D'varuh might end in diplomatic failure. Making something out of mica and tree resin would yellow over time. The same with shellac. And the white pigments might end up poisoning Mom.
"All right," said the not-Gnome. "What's the need of them?"
"A heartfelt gift." Zarid took the carry-box out of her poke. Showed him the incomplete works. "My moms stole me from a terrible place when they were Adventurers and I wanted to show my gratitude. I don't remember much of the Dungeon, but... I do remember they were going to feed me to the spiders. And what else good could come out of a cocoon but a butterfly," she touched one figure, "and a moth?"
"Well met underground?" guessed the Dragon in disguise.
"Mom's a Hellkin from the Och'lmexa area and Mama's a rebel Dark Elf from a strict and dictatorial group. Hot and cold, you know? And they brought me here even when they didn't have to." Whoever made put her genes together, didn't count. What she remembered of the old place hadn't been nice. "The other Halfbreds from down there got other places to belong. They kept me and gave me a home."
"And that's important," said the Gnome. "A family made with love is a true treasure." He briefly hovered his fingers over the missing pieces, and then unfurled a handful of pearly silver scales. Exactly the number that Zarid needed. Exactly the size she needed too. "They will bring prosperity and health to your household. And... I am sorry I was so brusque earlier. I've had... bad experiences with people who have the sight."
"I understand, and I thank you for these. May your path forward hold less woes."
"My name is Bibrid," said the Dragon. "Thank you for giving me hope."
"I'm Zarid. Thank for giving me joy."
[Photo by Олександр К on Unsplash]
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