The Dragon of Daughter Pairing

Call it a timeless impulse; regardless, time travel has always been possible in dreams. Life is taking shape as something more magical than I once thought it could, round these parts at least, with the threshold realm between the consistency of waking and the adventure of dreams flowing first one way and then the next. Seeping in with my newly gained sense for navigation comes the realization that I am ultimately insufficient for my daughters, claimed from the chaos, and a plan must be hatched to pair them, which means others must be found worthy of such a station. The Dragon herself feels familiar somehow though, like a mount not so much trained- by no means would I claim such a position- but willingly synchronized with my efforts. 

From first flight this quest is communicated and surged into. Never before has a dragon so clearly communicated their intention to find me. I suspect her nature, but at this juncture do not state it, as a kind of professional courtesy. My armor for this mission feels embedded already, as in great part it feels to be the armor of God, once worn, now like second skin- part tattoo, part foreign influence in my bloodstream. Treated like native born, however, this effect is transformative, emergent, like a partner in my newly awakening gestalt consciousness.

The readiness for peace rises with a heat from my soul, and its pathway is clear: I have stood in the fire for so long that its effect simmer along my form like forged metal. My daughters stand arranged on the borderlands of this inferno like catastrophe, first to call the dragon, and then to watch as I ride it to freedom and our common aim. The house of cards will stand despite our collective absence from the foundation of it, for carefully constructed architecture, set in place at great cost over years. This cost has been mine to bear though, and witnessing my reward in advance of having it to hold firsthand, I would not change a thing.

The issue remains though, of the son in law contract. I would not put another through what I have gone through, but ink on page and dragon at heels suggest that this arrangement need not be so precisely repeated. Rather a trial, carefully reflected in each of their eyes, must crash through the structure, each crystalline scar an indelible mark all its own, unique and foundational in its own right.

I let loose a battlecry into the dark cave, and feel crystalline structures refract the sound, even as many shatter. My mount echoes this call in her own way- excitedly and with great volume here, in the same manner that we have often split our focus. I can feel even now, as the watchtowers shake and the jokers hold firm that, despite the remaining ambiguity in the plan, and perhaps even for it, this is a dragon fight that we will win, perhaps overnight, for it is in the waiting that the blueprints have become perfect. We take to darkened skies, together once more in a way not felt in years, in some senses, and in others never experienced before.