DoA - Drawlloween 2020: The Next Killer App

Spessartine just didn’t know what to write, she was so stumped. She laid on her belly, her flipper somewhat curled around a small piece of chalk, staring intently at the rock before her, glaring at it as if it could just magically manifest the words through her flipper. The warm sun against her back was the only comfort to her as she knew that she desperately needed to get something down. But no matter how much she tried, it just wasn’t coming to her. Already other dragons were put off by her spiked appearance, but she so desperately wanted to work in the nursery. She had to write something that would spark their interest enough to look past her rather intimidating appearance.

But that wasn’t coming easily.

Unlucky fish were swimming by the grumpy dragon and, with a quick snap of her jaws, she stole one right out of the water for a quick snack. She chewed it diligently, bones and all, growling softly as she tried to think of just something, anything, that she could write. But there was seemingly no point! Nothing was coming to her.

She whined softly, flicking her tail in frustration, disturbing the sand she was laid on, moving her head to rest her chin against the top of the boulder. She couldn’t think of anything to do. Spessartine just really couldn’t figure out what to write. But she had to do something!

“What on earth has you worked up so much?” Malachite asked, an eyeridge raised. Spessartine yelped in astonishment, spinning around to face him with her crimson eyes wide, dropping the chalk. She moved to position herself between Malachite and the half dozen words she’d already written down.

“Uhhh… nothing?” She replied with, trying to brush it underneath the sand as if nothing had happened. But Spessartine could tell by his reaction that she had inadequately answered her as he shook his head.

“Right… There’s no reason at all you decided to just snap up that innocent little fish? No reason at all? They were just an unfortunate victim of you being hungry?” He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She flinched.

“Not convincing?” She asked, rhetorically, already moving aside from the rock with a sigh while he watched, then saw those words written on the rock. Glancing at him, then to her, he frowned slightly, “What’s this meant to be?”

Instantly, she whined, loudly, “It’s meant to be an application for the nursery! They have a spot open, and I’d absolutely love to give them a helping flipper…”

Malachite looked to those words, noticing how poorly they were written, practically illegible. “You do realize that you’ll need to do much more than write out six words to look after young dragons?” He asked, eyeridge raised.

She just whimpered, looking down at her flippers. “I know, but how do I write a killer application when I can’t even write?”

Malachite grinned. “You get someone else to transcribe it for you – so move over, we’ve got some work to do.”