FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Cropping his large, pale wings in tight against his tan-scaled body, Meegi committed to the dive. Below, and almost halfway across the Dragonball stadium, the Warblers’ number two claimer was making a beeline toward their team's closest nesting pole after having shaken off Looran's tackle. Under the harsh white lights of the stadium’s floodlights, the dragon’s forest-green body seemed to absorb the light rather than glimmer like Meegi's polished tan scales. The claimer in question was a slippery yet strong drake called Maalkorm, known for his flaring temper even by Warbler standards. This was no exhibition game where the goal was to build hype and showcase the sport; this was for real. Since the first game of the season, the Coastal Cresties had been plagued by bad luck, bad weather, and fierce competition, resulting in them not scoring as many championship points as any of them would have liked. Unfortunately, the Warblers had so far been winning every game they'd played this season. The combination of being matched against lesser teams, games at their home stadium, and a new coach had given them a newfound confidence in the air, which led to this game becoming a critical match for both teams. The Cresties needed every point they could to stay in as contenders for the finals, meanwhile the Warblers now stood poised to possibly take them down and knock them out as serious competitors for the championship. If the Warblers succeeded, it would be the first time in the history of the Cresties that they had failed to make it to the finals.

The wind rushing over Meegi's scales and through his mane of hair felt charged with tension. The scores were six to three in the Cresties’ favor, with them having scored four goals in the first fifteen minutes. However, the Warblers had adopted an ironclad defense that had slowed any progression, and while Fiital, Looran, and Meegi had been busy trying to break through their brooders' defenses, they hadn't been able to stop the Warblers from scoring points. At Fiital’s and coach Yaaneh’s instructions, the Cresties had changed tactics to support their brooders and ensure they didn't lose any more points. It wasn't a plan that Meegi completely agreed with, as he was more talented at stealing eggs and avoiding interceptions, than he was at trying to tackle another player out of the sky. However, he followed his leader's instructions and moved to intercept the fleeing claimer.

Tucking his forepaws tight against his chest and stretching his hind legs to trail alongside his tail, he kept his profile as small as possible to minimise drag and shed altitude in exchange for speed. Having just successfully rebuffed a tackle from Looran, Maalkorm was still slow and was beating his wings hard to regain altitude and speed while holding the egg-shaped ball against his body. Looking under and across the stadium as he fell, Meegi spotted Fiital focusing on the Warblers' other two claimers, who had both entered the nesting zones in an attempt to steal more eggs. The fact that Maalkorm had managed to shrug off Looran's attempt at an intercept so easily didn't sit well with Meegi. The graphite grey colored dragoness was a force to be reckoned with in a scrap and wasn't afraid to use her tail to whip around and strike a claimer’s spine or drive headfirst into their wing joints to intercept a ball.

The distance between them closed rapidly as Meegi swooped down, lifting his folded wings into the rushing wind to give himself some more control. He continued until he came close enough to make out the individual scales on the drake's back and then coiled his head back while extending his forepaws ahead of him. Maalkorm hadn’t seen him yet, and that was the only advantage Meegi would be able to leverage to try to get the ball out of the drake's grip. His opponent was significantly larger than him, by a couple of feet in length and wingspan. Additionally, Maalkorm was built for raw strength, with thicker legs, tail and flight muscles that put Meegi’s lean and athletic body to shame. Their size differences made it clear to Meegi that he wouldn't be able to last in a prolonged grapple, and if he was going to succeed, he would have to be quick and nimble.

With only a dozen feet between them, his shadow swept over the drake, causing Maalkorm to tilt his head and look up at him. The breakneck speed at which Meegi was shooting down didn't allow much time for Maalkorm to evade; however, with his wings folded, Meegi also couldn't change his course quickly. He had been aiming to drive his forepaws into the middle of the drake's shoulders in what would have been a textbook tackle. The force should have knocked the wind out of the drake and, if timed while their wings were extended mid-flap, used their drag to ensure maximum force was delivered. Instead, Maalkorm twisted his body and managed to retract one wing in an attempt to roll out of the way, and instead of crashing into the middle of his shoulders, Meegi’s forepaws punched down onto the meat of his folded wing’s shoulder. Crashing into the folded wing only helped spin the drake around, and Meegi flared his wings to full extension to try not to glance off the drake, but it was too late. His covered claws failed to find any purchase on the drake's scales or pads, and although he managed to rake the tip of his talon across the leading edge of Maalkorm’s wing, he overshot and fell past. Meegi's wings caught the air, slowing him to the drake's speed, and as he heaved them around to propel himself closer for another, albeit much slower, attempt at a tackle, the larger drake whipped his head around mid-roll.

“Little fuck!” Maalkorm snarled, his ivory teeth flashing like daggers behind his helmet’s metal-barred mouthguard. Performing a full rotation, the drake spread both wings and flapped down to try and make space between Meegi and himself. The rush of wind pinned Meegi's mane against his neck, but didn't stop him from pumping his own wings in quick succession.

Meegi surged back up at the drake, his lighter body allowing him to accelerate quicker than the heavier drake, and this time crashing chest-first into the drake's underside while extending both forepaws to try and pull the ball out of the drake's grip. Without the speed and momentum of a full dive, and coming from below, Meegi was fighting an uphill battle. Opting to use one paw to latch onto the drake's harness, he folded his wings to use his weight to upset the dragon's center of gravity and lashed out with his other paw to try and knock the ball out of Maalkorm's grasp. He might as well have punched a wall with how tightly the drake had it clutched against his chest, but it didn't stop him from swiping again and again. Even when Maalkorm rotated a wing to smart him across the head and then drove his thigh into Meegi's chest, Meegi let the wind be driven out of him and maintained his grip on the green drake's harness. Lashing his tail up and around the drake as far as he could, Meegi struck the drake across the rump before taking another firm kick into his lower belly. He felt the dig of the drake's talons skate across his smooth scales and hissed as they drove into his inner thigh but stubbornly refused to let go.

Meegi's vision went dark and the world turned over itself as Maalkorm wrapped a wing around his head and neck, and together they began to fall out of the sky. It was a dirty move, but one that Meegi had come to expect from a Warbler. There was, of course, a strict yet invisible altitude window that players were allowed to fly in. Players carrying the ball were forbidden to fly above the lip of the stadium ceiling and weren't allowed to drop below forty feet off the grass. However, unladen players were allowed to fly as low or as high as they dared, on the condition that no tackles continued below thirty feet. In the event that the ball carrier was dragged below the safety height, the player deemed at fault would receive a penalty. By wrapping his wing around Meegi and blocking the camera mounted to his horn, Maalkorm was deliberately making it difficult for any referee to determine who was hanging onto who, and as they tumbled over one another in a tangle of limbs, Meegi wasn't even sure if he was still holding onto the drake's straps or not. An errant hind leg crushed Meegi's right wing against his side while they raced toward the ground and, while bucking his body against the drake, Meegi yanked as hard as he could at the larger drake's muscled foreleg to dislodge the ball. He had no idea how low they were but took some comfort in the fact that the drake would want to avoid hitting the ground himself, and judging by the sense of speed, even if they dropped below the penalty line, he would still have time to pull up. The pressure of the drake's wing was becoming impossibly strong, as if the flexible membranes were somehow becoming solid and pressing down around Meegi's neck. It started as a dull pressure, but after a few moments became unbearable and difficult to breathe.

Adrenaline flooded Meegi's body as they tumbled again and again. Time lost all meaning, and panic flared as he began to realise he couldn't breathe nor get away from the drake. A wave of cold fear gripped Meegi's mind, and in panic he thrashed in the drake's grip. He didn’t know what part of the drake was clamped around his neck and lashed out at anything he could with his forelegs. His lungs burned and his throat ached as the crushing pressure intensified before he managed to angle his head down to bury his snout under the drake's wing. Then, after wedging his head forward, Meegi sharply pulled back with his neck, and the force against his throat suddenly vanished while he heard the other claimer roar in agony. Regulations dictated that horns must not be sharp and their tips conformed to the specified radius in order to reduce the risk of them piercing scale or goring a player. However, driving his horns backwards, Meegi felt them both pierce the softer and unarmoured trailing edge of Maalkorm’s wing membranes. The drake's roar was scathing, however Meegi paid no attention to it and jerked his head backward to force Maalkorm to unfurl his wing. Light from the stadium's floodlights caused Meegi's pupils to contract to slits, and he clenched as he felt Maalkorm tuck both of his hind legs up between them. Dangling under the drake, Meegi lunged as best he could to wrap both paws around the white oval-shaped egg and held on tight as the drake flared his wings and kicked Meegi in the gut as hard as possible.

Meegi's eyes bulged, and a pained hiss escaped his clenched jaw as his softer scales were split by the drake's half-covered hind talons. Thanks to the claw guards, he wasn't disemboweled, but the pain of softer keratin plates being sliced and parted made it impossible to maintain his grip on the ball, and in an instant he felt the smooth texture of the leather slip across his pawpads. Upside down, with the ground only a dozen yards below him, his instincts kicked in as Maalkorm pulled sharply upward. Flicking his tail around in a circular, whip-like motion, Meegi used its momentum to pull his body around, and even before he had fully righted himself, he flared both wings out and downward in a powerful stroke. With only two feet to spare, Meegi only just missed the manicured grass and pulled up to the roar of approval from the spectators. He couldn't tell if they had dropped below the penalty line when they had parted, but given that the referees hadn't sounded the buzzer, he continued to pump his wings in rapid flaps and climbed hard.

Inhaling in large gulps, he could still feel the echo of the drake's strangling hold on his neck, but he forced a breath through the pain and gave chase. In the brief few seconds Meegi had needed to recover, Maalkorm had already made good ground toward his closest nesting pole. From behind, Meegi could clearly see the tears he had created in the green drake's wing. Neither was larger than two feet long, but they weren't clean and sawed from side to side in uneven gashes. Because of the motion of flapping, blood had begun to cover the trailing edge of his right wing but caused the drake to move slower through the air. They looked far worse then they actually would be and Meegi guessed that after the game he would have them stitched or glued back together so that he was right to fight another game.

Ignoring the burning pain from where Maalkorm's claws had dug into his scales, Meegi inhaled through his mouth and gave chase. The lean and corded flight muscles that wrapped his chest burned as he drove his wings down hard, each pounding beat cupping the air and forcing it behind him. Compared to the other Cresties, only their team captain was faster than Meegi and that was only in a straight line. When it came to tight turns and rapid changes in direction, no one was able to bank, turn and retain speed as well as he could slice through the air. However, this was no smooth and controlled method of bending the wind to help him turn, nor was it graceful, sweeping flaps to perform calculated rolls through the air, this was pure desperate speed. His heart hammered in his chest as he pulled himself through the sky toward Maalkorm's tail, the gap becoming shorter and shorter with every stroke. The speed at which he would intercept wouldn't be quick, and a tackle might be just as futile as before, but Meegi wasn't about to give up hope.

Maalkorm kept as low as he could without being penalized and moved as fast as his torn wing would allow him toward his nesting pole while the crowd screamed louder. Every yard closer to the goals seemed to turn up the volume of the crowd, the tension of the chase possessing them and driving their cheers to a deafening white noise. By the time Meegi had come within a few feet of the drake's tail, he was almost in the nesting zones. With only a foot before the drake made it into the goal zone, a flash of grey movement in the corner of his eye caught Meegi's attention, and he almost didn't recognise Looran as she dove down into Maalkorm's side. In the time he had been tussling with the drake, Looran must have been gaining height to use to take him on yet again. Now she collided with him chest first into his side and her forepaws extended to wrap and grab the base of the dragon's neck. The deep thud of scale impacting scale hammered like a drum, and with her momentum she pulled him off course and away from his goal. Both of them careened off to one side, and with his wings held at the wrong angle to manoeuvre, Meegi failed to turn as tightly and overshot into the nesting zones. The moment he crossed the invisible barrier, the lights all along the tall spire illuminated yellow, signifying that he was making an attempt to steal an egg. It hadn't been his intention, nor part of their strategy, but Meegi committed to it when he saw the ball slip from Maalkorm’s grip as Looran struck him under the jaw with her helmet-covered head. Angling his wings, Meegi swept around the spire in a tight turn and looked up toward the brooder who stood atop the small platform.

He wasn't going anywhere near as fast as he would have liked, and now with a limited amount of time to steal the ball, he hastily ran through a dozen plays in his mind while skirting the outside of the zone. He kept his turn as wide as possible without leaving the zone and focused on getting as much speed as possible, all while climbing up higher and higher. Above, the brooder was tracking him with her head while looking down over the lip, but other than mantling its wings, the brooder dragoness didn't leave the platform. Once he was six feet under the platform, Meegi arched his tail and swept both wings forward while twisting his neck to rapidly change direction. Turning ninety degrees almost on the spot, he shot under the platform while making sure to close his wings just enough to miss the support tower beneath it. Darting out the other side, Meegi pulled up and used his speed to climb above the platform and the brooder. The crowd gasped in unison, and Meegi grinned from horn to horn as he saw the back of the brooder. Clearly his change of direction had caught the dragoness off guard, and was too surprised to react when Meegi sailed up high and still the brooder hadn't turned. Instead, the dragoness seemed fixated on the ground below and where Meegi once was. Standing with her forepaws on the rim of the platform and her hind legs bracketing the ball in the middle of the nest, the dragoness had completely lost track of where he was. Capitalising on her error, Meegi swooped around to keep behind her and did not hesitate as he raced down behind the dragoness. Overshooting the ball with his body, Meegi swung his tail out to punt the ball off the platform. It was humiliating to a brooder to have the ball taken from them in such a flashy and brazen way, and yet the crowd didn't seem to roar in approval.

Cropping his wings, Meegi dove after the falling ball and caught it with ease; however, as he glanced backwards at the brooder with a cocky smile, he noticed that something wasn't right. The brooder was still fixated on the ground, and when he followed his gaze, he saw Looran and Maalkorm on the ground. The dragoness was sprawled on her back, writhing in pain while clutching her throat, while the drake stood a few yards away snarling at her while holding a paw to his shoulder. The whole time, his eyes remained locked on Looran while she looked as though she was being strangled. The entire stadium was silent as they watched before the referee's buzzer screamed out across the stadium in a single long blast that continued for a full ten seconds. In the absence of cheering, the buzzer was deafening, and Meegi flared his wings to slow to almost a stall while turning around. The siren was a clear call for the game to come to a halt, which only ever happened if there was a serious injury, and Meegi watched as a medical team rushed onto the field. Curiously, two of the referees and six dragons wearing harnesses marked with security also dove down to the scene, however they made a beeline toward Maalkorm.

Whipping his head around, Meegi saw Fiital at the other end of the field circling in place while tracking the situation with a hawk-like stare. A rumble began to grow amongst the crowd, their silence morphing into an uneasy growl from all sides. Whatever had happened was not normal, and Meegi could feel it in his gut. Whenever a player had been downed in the past, it was common for one half to cheer while the other would boo, but whatever had happened had unified both teams. A brief squeal of feedback whined through the speakers across the stadium before the announcer's voice came through. “Attention everybody, we ask that you please remain in your seats at this time,” the human’s voice became muffled as the angry shouts from the crowd drowned them out.

Looking back down to Looran, he saw that the medical team had rolled her onto her side while Maalkorm was being stiffly escorted toward the edge of the field. Movement from the Warblers’ nesting poles pulled Meegi's attention away, and he watched as all three brooders abandoned their goals to fly toward the large cage that separated their players from the audience. Looking back toward Fiital and his team's brooders, all of them were moving quickly toward the Cresties’ cage. The roars of anger and frustration from the crowd became deafening, and half-full cups began to be thrown onto the pitch in disapproval.

Still holding the ball against his chest and now feeling very much alone in the middle of the angry stadium, Meegi folded his wings to dive a few feet and then began to beat them quickly. Flying across the field, he looked back at Looran and further toward Maalkorm. The green drake was clearly the source of ire for both teams, and as they came within a few yards of one of the stadium's service doors, cups, wrappers, and anything not bolted down began to rain down on the green drake.

Tearing his eyes away from the scene, Meegi focused forwards when someone called his name and saw both Fiital and Haanith waving for him to come quickly while standing at the entrance to their team's cage. The look of confusion and fear in their eyes was not missed by Meegi, who tried to push through his burning muscles and raced as fast as he could. Coming close, two dragons wearing security harnesses emerged from deeper in the team's cage and took up posts at its entrance. Flaring his wings only briefly to shed speed, Meegi landed at a gallop and overshot Fiital and Haanith. Turning his head to look backwards, he was surprised when he saw the security guards pull down a folded barrier to segregate them from the crowd, and he suddenly found himself being pushed by the rest of the team deeper into the stadium’s bowels.

“What's going on?” Meegi asked as he became flanked by Haanith and one of the team's reserve brooders. Their bodies pressed tightly against his and he had to trot to keep up, as they moved quickly into the network of service tunnels. The concrete seemed to almost vibrate with the angry crowd above them, as if the entire stadium was a wounded animal lashing out.

“They had a fucking freak on their team,” Haanith hissed in disapproval. “Fucker did magic and just tried to take Looran out, cameras caught everything!” He added this in a furious growl that sent a shiver down Meegi's spine. A series of notifications rang out in a constant stream from the phone Haanith kept strapped to his foreleg. Haanith, being the club's owner, was no doubt receiving requests from every news network asking for comment. In truth, Meegi had a hundred questions himself, but he thought quickly about how it might look.

“Is Looran okay?” asked Fiital from behind Meegi. Glancing over his shoulder as they rounded a corner, Meegi saw that he was being flanked by two of the primary brooders while the rest of the team took up the rear. Somewhere along the way, half a dozen human security guards had joined their entourage, and jogged to keep up with the athletes' quick strides.

“She's alive, her heart rate is still going strong,” Haanith replied while doing a small hop to look down at his phone's display. “Medical has her now, she should be right. But Riian, you better be ready for the next game, just in case,” Haanith called this back toward the reserve claimer. Hearing him talk of replacing the dragoness felt abstract to Meegi, considering he had just seen her flying so brilliantly. “This game is over though, they will be kicking the Warblers from the championship after this,” he continued with a small scoff of amusement. “How they let someone like him play at our level…” The drake's words drifted off as they approached a large double-door exit. “Okay, security will be taking you back home, we will regroup tomorrow at 0800, and don't be late,” Haanith added before dipping his head down to press into the crash bar with the bridge of his snout.

The cold evening air washed over Meegi's scales and he continued to march forwards into the cluster of waiting dragons and humans. Each one wore the same style of black harness with silver reflective lettering that spelled out security. Additionally, Meegi could see the small LED lights mounted on the intersections of the straps that could be illuminated to flash yellow and amber if needed. At the end of every game, security would always escort them back to their homes or hotel in case a fan tried to ambush them, but this felt different, and the air carried with it an urgency that made Meegi's chest tighten.

In addition to the harnesses, chest-mounted cameras, and flashing lights, each dragon wore a saddle for a rider. This was not uncommon, as it was normal for the security detail to carry humans who could assist where a dragon's size and strength could be a liability. However, Meegi noticed that each of the riders had their legs strapped to the saddle to hold them in the seat instead of riding untethered like they usually did. They were taking this evacuation seriously, and while Meegi still wasn't sure if their departure was completely necessary, in the back of his mind he knew that some spectators could devolve into an unruly bunch when their team lost. To have the entire game cancelled midway through due to magic use was a recipe for chaos.

Lights to his side caused Meegi to look, and he hurried as he saw a throng of reporters and camera crew rushing toward them. “Go, I'll handle this,” Haanith growled at the team, and one by one they took to the sky with their security detail flanking them.

==Page break==

Despite the news’s attempts at pixelating the footage captured by both Maalkorm’s and Looran's horn cameras, the internet had become awash with footage from spectators who had either filmed the big screens in the stadium as the attack happened or had somehow recorded the game before the broadcast cut away to the presenters. Meegi's eyes narrowed as he watched the footage again from another angle in disbelief. One moment Looran had managed to get the ball out of the drake's grip, the next she was falling while gagging for breath that would not come. Any doubt that it was all just an act was quickly dispelled by the images of her throat pressed flat against itself as it was being crushed by an invisible force. The only saving grace was that the pair had been flying so low that the dragoness had managed to crash-land without breaking anything, and she had quickly gotten to her feet to try to get distance away from Maalkorm. Likewise, the drake had landed and continued to snarl at her, making the scene even more gut-wrenching to watch as she collapsed and heaved for air.

The memory of the pressure Meegi had felt against his throat while trying to tackle Maalkorm sent a phantom burn through his neck, and he couldn't stop his forepaw from scratching at the scales there while he watched the video again on his phone. Having taken a cold shower to clean his horns of the drake's blood, Meegi now lay on his front with his wings draped across the large padded sofa while Tiiphani sat across from him on her own phone. She had been watching the game at home and had seen the events unfold in real time. Since he had arrived home, Meegi had only received a few words in greeting, as she was now engrossed in sending messages to other staff in the team. He dared not interrupt her, as she was Haanith's executive assistant after all, and he knew that the whole management staff would be busy tonight dealing with the events of the game.

“...It's an absolute disgrace, these players represent the best of the best both on and off the field. They have spent decades making themselves the best they can be for this sport and they rely on the rules and safeguards to get them home each night,” Haanith's firm voice played out from one of the many hidden speakers beneath the large flatscreen TV that dominated the living room. Looking up from his phone, Meegi refocused on his boss and watched as the crimson drake fielded the flurry of questions from the dozens of reporters. “As much as we might have our disagreements with how other teams are trained and managed, All of us, the real teams, we would all agree that this level of blatant, careless negligence almost cost a player her life, and has no place in the sport,” he continued with a bite in his voice that made Meegi's wings tuck closer against his sides.

“And what do you say about the Warblers being removed from the championship,”

The reporter had hardly finished her sentence before the drake scoffed. “After what they just tried to do, they should be cut completely from all future championships. The Cresties, the Nixies, Nymphs, all the rest, our team's athletes represent the best there is. All of them got to where they are with hard work and training, not through tricks and foul play!” he continued and held up a paw to halt the next question, “People look up to these athletes as role models. What does it say if someone is able to trick and cheat their way into the championships and tries to kill a competitor?”

“Are you calling it attempted murder.”

“What else would you call that? He had lost the ball and lashed out. You saw it the same as I did. It was a valid tackle, and that runt Maalkorm couldn't handle being beaten. I don't know if it was because he lost to a dragoness or not. That sort of thing wouldn't surprise me from a Warbler. But it is clear that he couldn't control his anger and used magic to try and end a dragoness’ life.” He snarled, his crimson scales briefly going white with a series of camera flashes. Taking a breath, he composed himself and continued more calmly. “I understand that sometimes a player's anger gets the better of them, and we have come to expect that from a team like the Warblers. We train to evade and de-escalate situations like this to ensure that everyone has a safe and good game, but when someone can choke you out or stop your heart without touching you, it is why my security advised the team to leave as soon as they did. Who knows if there was a Warbler fan who wanted to finish the job and could do magic. Maalkorm has shown us that you can never be too sure, and it is not something anyone can really protect themselves against, is it?” The drake let his words hang in the air as a series of interviewers' voices overlapped.

“Are you saying that magic users should be easily identifiable?” one of the louder interviewers asked, which caused the drake to recoil his head back as if stung. Meegi likewise lifted his head and listened more intently. Magic users were incredibly rare, and in the few instances that someone with the gifts had committed a crime or was suspected of foul play, it was not uncommon for the argument that magic users should be registered to resurface. Thankfully, it was not a popular opinion, but Meegi was curious to hear what his mate’s father had to say.

“I didn't say that, no.” Haanith retorted stiffly and shook his head. “Look, let me make this abundantly clear. I have nothing against magic users as a whole, some of my closest friends have magic in their blood, but they cannot help that they hatched with those abilities. But there is a time and place for their abilities, and then there is Dragonball.” He explained this while using a forepaw to gesture at two separate groups. “Just as this sport is not suited to wingless folk, it is not for those who can physical hurt a player without touching them. And what you have seen today highlights why they are not welcome on the field.” Haanith continued and went to move to another question before turning back to the reporter who had asked such a pointed one. “Likewise, I do not want to give the impression that magic users in the crowd are not welcome. This sport is to be enjoyed by all. But my players are expected to play by the rules, and the rules are very clear about magic being forbidden. Ask anyone here,” he added while gesturing with a folded wing toward the stadium. “All of them paid good money to see an honest game between rival teams, not a circus show with an added execution.”

“They should totally be registered,” a voice murmured from the other side of the room, causing Meegi to tear his focus away from the drake on the screen. Tiiphani lay with her phone cradled in her forepaws and her head dipped down, but she too had been looking over her device to watch the television. “It would stop a whole bunch of crime, that is for sure,” she added when she glanced toward Meegi and saw she had his attention. “You cannot tell me there are not some freaks that use that shit to do things because it is hard to get caught.”

“I don't…” Meegi started and tried to force a lungful of air into his tight chest. “I don't think there are that many of them, and I doubt they are all that bad.” He continued, although he found his own defence lacking. Of course there would be some who used their gifts for ill-gotten gains or simply to survive, but the ability to wield magic was a one-in-a-however-many chance, and he suspected that many users never honed their abilities to anything more than minor acts of convenience. “Besides, if I had the gift, I would use it for work. So I don't think you need a register, just look for the local dragon locksmith or whatever. They usually even advertise that they can do magic.”

“Gods, you are naive…” Tiiphani scoffed while shaking her head in disbelief. “I am not talking about the ones with jobs. I am talking about the ones that get up to no good. You know the type, hanging out in alleyways at two in the morning. The kind that pick locks on people's houses, ATMs and parcel lockers. Or other stupid shit, rigging the roulette tables, spiking drinks from across the bar, that sort of thing.”

“Oh right, I thought you were including those with real jobs, like Dragonball,” Meegi replied stiffly while pretending to look back down at his phone. He genuinely did not want to start an argument and knew he had overstepped when he saw, in the corner of his eye, Tiiphani arch her neck back and glare at him. However, he was compelled to speak up for those like him, even if it made him sound overly sympathetic. “Besides, if you start putting them on a list, they will only hide their gifts harder, right? Maalkorm probably would not have hidden his gifts if he was not playing a sport where he would not be allowed to—”

“You're defending him? He almost killed your teammate?” Tiiphani retorted loudly, causing Meegi to look up from his phone again. Her lips were half lifted in a sour look of disdain, and Meegi knew that his next words had to be chosen carefully. He was exhausted from the game and frustrated by what he was hearing to the point that he could feel his heartbeat in his ears. However, things could get worse, as they had done in many of their disagreements.

“Of course I'm not sticking up for Maalkorm. The guy is a monster,” Meegi started, unwilling to call him a freak. Her expression did not seem to ease, and he found it easier to look away from her and back at the television screen, which was now showing footage of hordes of people leaving the stadium. A part of him wanted to have a rational conversation with her, where he could talk about how he really felt about magic without revealing his own gifts, but he knew she was far too riled up and narrow minded to have a rational conversation with her. Her mind was made up, and it would take far more energy than he had to change her opinion, and, ultimately, it was too risky to appear interested or knowledgeable in the subject. Inhaling deeply again, he held his breath for a beat before slowly exhaling through his teeth and shaking his head. “Ignore me, babe, sorry. It's been a long day and you're right,” he murmured, and in his peripheral vision saw the dragoness shuffle her wings in victory.

Closing one of the few apps on his company-issued phone, he tapped on his emails and scanned through the list of correspondence he had been included in. His eyes drifted down the list of new appointments that had been added to his calendar for interviews with news networks. His stomach tightened, knowing he would be faced with a barrage of questions about what he thought of the Warblers’ attack. Scrolling up, he saw an email from the head of marketing and public relations which included a press briefing for him. He did not open it, but he knew it would contain a host of recommended statements and carefully curated responses to spin the narrative in the direction the team was aiming for. Above that, an email had been forwarded by Tiiphani to all of the players on behalf of her father to confirm that they had won the game by default.

It did not really surprise Meegi that they had been declared the winners, given that they were multiple points ahead at the time the game ended, but it was disheartening that Tiiphani had not said anything to him while he sat on the couch across from her. Flicking his eyes in her direction, he saw that she had returned to her tablet, and for a brief moment he contemplated asking why she had not mentioned it. Still, he could tell by her stiff posture that it would likely end in another argument. Retracting his wings from being sprawled across the couch, Meegi folded them against his sides and let their leading edges rest on the soft cushions. Glancing back at the tablet-like phone, he forced himself to drop the question and read through the contents. There wasn’t any substance to the email that the headline had not already captured, and after double-checking that their next game was still scheduled for the next weekend, he marked the email as read.

The familiar face of the Warbler claimer on the television caused Meegi to refocus on the screen, and he watched as the drake was being escorted by police. Meegi was no longer focusing on the words of the broadcaster, as they seemed to be filling airtime with the same message. The Warblers had been removed from the championship, and Maalkorm had been instantly dropped from his team due to the obvious contract violation. Meegi's jaw clenched as the broadcasters continued to berate the actions of the drake and discuss the need for an investigation to determine how he had been allowed to play in the first place. Footage then filled the screen of a fan's discarded flag with Maalkorm's number on it, bunched up and shoved into an overflowing trash can, which captured the sentiment of the broadcast perfectly. The officials of the sport, the Warblers, and even the fans had turned on the green drake in an instant, and it left Meegi with a sour taste in his mouth and tore his mind in two directions. What Maalkorm did was wrong, and something he would never do, but the dialogue seemed more focused on the fact that he could do magic rather than the attack on Looran itself. Not once had the news reported on the dragoness' condition, and he was fearful that she might have been left crippled or maimed in some sort of permanent way. He wasn’t sure what had happened to her after the game and the only good news was that they kept referring to the attack as an attempt on her life rather than her being killed.

“Any word from Looran? Is she doing okay?” Meegi asked out loud while scanning his emails. Refreshing the screen, the tablet vibrated as a new email arrived from Tiiphani with the heading stating the dragoness was okay. Grunting in acknowledgement, Meegi read through the contents. Looran was apparently in a stable condition, and the marketing team had advised her not to leave the hospital until the next day to ensure that the correct messaging was signaled. The words made Meegi clench his jaws, but he understood what was happening. The Cresties were clearly angling their narrative of the attack to ensure that the officials’ decision to kick the Warblers was upheld. He doubted they would change their mind, but there was still an appeal process, and he could imagine Haanith using every card he had to ensure their competition was disqualified.

A new face on the television screen caused Meegi to look up briefly before sighing louder than he expected. The news anchors were clearly trying to fill airtime, which he guessed was because the game had been cut short. However, when he saw that they had brought a body language expert on to overanalyse Maalkorm's arrival at the stadium and determine if he was walking like a killer, Meegi grew bored with the channel. “Could you change the channel? I think we get the gist,” he asked and looked toward the flat plastic remote nestled beside Tiiphani’s forepaw.

“No, I need to see this. There could be an angle we are missing,” Tiiphani replied, putting down her tablet to focus on the television more diligently. Meegi wanted to question what possible angle they could be missing, given that they had already won the game, but he felt as though she was only interested in the screen because he had asked for something different. It felt petty, something she was doing only to annoy him, but he refused to take the bait and simply nodded before pulling himself forwards on the couch.

“Okay, let me know if you see something. I’m gonna go stretch,” he lied and slipped his tablet-like phone into its holster attached to his foreleg. Stepping off the couch, he let his hind legs stay on the padded cushion as he continued to walk forwards in a slow, deliberate stretch. Only when he had fully extended his lean body and held it for a second did he step down with his hind legs and pull his wings closer to his body. Flashing an attempt at a smile toward Tiiphani, he saw that she was still engrossed in the screen and continued to walk out of the media room and into the tiled marble hallway that bisected the penthouse. Something was clearly upsetting his mate, but he did not have the mental capacity to try and draw out what was troubling her, and instead mentally went through the obvious things as he padded his way down the hall. It was not the anniversary of them dating or the first time they had actually become mates. Her birthday was not for another six months, and her cycle had ended four or five weeks ago, during which he had kept his distance as requested. As far as he could recall, he had not forgotten anything, but still the dragoness felt more cold and distant than usual.

Rounding the corner of the kitchen, Meegi’s eyes flicked to the bowl of fruit that stood in prime position on the large island. Arranged by one of the staff, a singular pineapple stood proud in the middle while surrounded by an assortment of plump peaches, passionfruit, dragon fruit, and apples. From every angle it was symmetrical, and as Meegi had learned early on in their relationship, the fruit was not for eating. It was a façade for guests to believe that they lived a lifestyle of health and fitness, which was only partially true. Meegi ate a controlled diet that had been specially prescribed by the team's nutritionist, while Tiiphani and the rest of the family ate as they pleased. Their diet was not particularly unhealthy, and the family’s chefs always prepared meals from fresh ingredients, however Meegi would be lying if he said he did not find mealtimes a somewhat awkward affair as they enjoyed honey-glazed meats while he ate his own meal of chicken, rice and steamed vegetables.

Like the fruit bowl, the rest of the kitchen was functional, although more for display than anything else. Large stainless steel appliances were built into the sleek modern cabinetry, all matching and imported from overseas, however they were only used by the family sparingly, as the actual kitchen used by the chefs was on another floor of the building. Pushing open a door with the bridge of his snout, Meegi stepped into the walk-in pantry and ignored the rows of various cereals, biscuits, and snacks as he approached the tall stainless steel cold room that was used as a staging area when catering dinner parties in the penthouse. Looping the talon on his folded wing under the thick polished handle, Meegi tugged the door open with the help of the gas strut mounted at the top of the frame. A wash of cold air spilled out of the room like an arctic winter's night, carrying with it a soft fog of dense, damp air. Illuminated by a series of sterile white lights built into the ceiling, the space was larger than his bedroom growing up and had room for multiple wheeled trolleys of food if needed. Exhaling as he stepped inside, Meegi welcomed the cold on his scales as it eased his sore joints and the bruises beneath his cracked scales from where he had been struck and kicked. With his tail, he guided the door closed behind him and relaxed his wings at his sides as the hum of the cooling system dominated his senses. This was not the first time he had enjoyed the solace of the cold room, and he doubted it would be his last. He didn’t mind the cold either; it was a small price to pay for solitude. In an open-plan penthouse where Tiiphani and her family could walk in on him at any time, or question why he was in the bathroom for so long and whether he was feeling well, Meegi found the closed-off nook bliss. Inside this insulated box, no one was judging his performance, or what he said, or asking him questions.

Lowering his body down to a crouch, Meegi then let his hind legs slip out on either side and pressed his sore underside against the cold tiled floor. The burning sting of where Maalkorm's talons had caught and raked his belly flared momentarily, but after a few seconds began to fade to a dull numb sensation. After the team's medical team had visited the penthouse to tend to him, the broken scales had been glued together although the underlying flesh was still tender. Curling his neck back over itself into an S shape, Meegi relaxed his head and let the joints of his neck suspend it, as he closed his eyes. Breathing through his nose in long, deep breaths, he cleared his mind of Tiiphani's mood and the game; instead, he focused on his breathing and sprawled his wings across the floor.

Adjusting his tail, he felt it brush against something lumpy and opened an eye to look behind him at what he had disturbed. Tucked under one of the shelves, a large bag of some sort of produce lay forgotten and crammed against the wall. Curious, but not wanting to get up and collect it, Meegi instead used his tail to pry the bag from the wall of the room and dragged it across the floor toward his wing. Leaning to one side, he reached back with a forepaw to collect the mystery goods and brought them to his front to inspect the package. Whatever ink had been used on the plastic had deteriorated significantly, but the picture showed an image of golden fries with steam rising from their crispy goodness. Resting his forelegs on his elbows, he turned the package over in his paws and kneaded the bag. After who knew how long, the fries had frozen together into one solid lump, and as he turned it over, Meegi saw that it had long since expired. Tapping it against the tiled floor to try to break it apart, the bag made surprisingly loud thuds and the contents refused to separate. After rolling it over in his paws for a few minutes while reading what remained of the text, the drake tucked it between the keel of his chest and his foreleg and held it against his body. Its cool contents felt good against his scales and helped soothe the sore and tired flight muscles that wrapped around his front.

Between the icy air, the white noise of the cooling system, and holding something against his chest, Meegi began to truly unwind, and his mind began to wander toward his future. From such a young age, he had always dreamed of playing Dragonball professionally, and being a Crestie was an honour he did not take lightly. However, having accomplished his lifelong goal so quickly, he felt somewhat empty as he thought about what his life might hold for him. He had flown with the Cresties as a primary when they had won the championship last season. Likewise, he had already scored dozens of points against other world-class teams. Aside from becoming team captain, there was not much more for him to achieve in Dragonball, which sat heavily on his mind.

What was next for him? What should he do now, that he had achieved everything he had ever wanted? The idea of having kids drifted into his mind, but was silenced quickly at the thought of having to handle Tiiphani while she was gravid. The dragoness had made it very clear that she was not ready for eggs, to the point of paranoia around her cycle. Which Meegi respected, of course, and if he was honest, he was not sure he would want to bring others into their chaotic life anyway. His schedule was already busy enough as it was with training, photoshoots, and media tours, and he doubted he would have any time left to dedicate toward a hatchling. It was not uncommon for players, especially dragonesses, to take a season break and come back after having eggs. However, letting Tiiphani raise a child without him was not something he was interested in.

A small vibration from his phone refocused his wandering mind. The cellular reception inside the cold room was non-existent, however the phone still managed one bar of the home's WiFi, this was slow, but functional. Sliding the phone out from its holster, Meegi set it down on the tiles and unlocked it. Tapping at the screen, he scanned the title and dismissed the notification, as it was only an adjustment to his schedule for the next day. When the phone vibrated again with another message, Meegi's chest tightened and he began to feel the peace he had found in the cold room starting to escape him. Swiping a digit down from the top to bring up the settings, Meegi mashed the mute button and silenced his professional obligations. His eyes lingered on the screen as he went to lock the phone. Despite being a heavily restricted and managed device that had been issued by the team, a few areas of the phone's original software seemed to have made it through. This included the default news application that infected different areas of the phone with clickbait and other useless marketing. Tonight, however, looked to be a rare instance in which actual news had managed to make its way onto his phone. The thumbnail showed a cluster of dragons and humans standing behind a green dragon in a formation Meegi had seen a few times during political cycles. Splashed across the image was a cramped message to try and entice the reader to click.

“Spain accepts mixed marriages, what does this mean for you and your human/dragon?”

The heading was clearly clickbait, however Meegi's attention remained fixed on the cluster of humans and dragons, and more in particular, a sky blue dragoness standing in the wings. His finger moved on autopilot and tapped on the screen to open the article. Due to the poor reception, the article opened first before a flurry of ads began to dominate the screen, offering only a close button that was a few pixels large to dismiss them. Taking care to scroll within the postage stamp sized area of visible text, Meegi read what he could. The title was surprisingly not misleading, and indeed the Spanish government had just legalised marriages between dragons, as well as dragons and humans. The latter made Meegi's eye ridges rise in surprise. The matter of dragons not having the same legal rights during mateship had been something Tiiphani had been quite enthusiastic about. Being the daughter of Haanith, if anything were to happen to her father, the entire estate would go to her rather than her mother. Seeing now that a country had allowed mateships to be recognised, and also between human and dragon, meant that wills and last-minute transfers of assets were not as necessary. Likewise, it gave the other party in a relationship legal standing to argue for estates in the event of an untimely death.

Scrolling past the dozens of offers for flights to Spain that blocked sections of the article, he flicked down until he saw the picture that had been used as the thumbnail and continued to read. It was from an interview with an organisation that was lobbying for the same legal protections for dragons and mixed couples in their own country. Led by a green drake who at first glance looked as though he was holding his wings oddly, but after a second look Meegi realised the drake was missing both of his front legs and sat with his wings lowered to the ground to support his front. Reading the text below, the green drake was the leader of the organisation, and Meegi guessed that the rest were members of his staff who were positioned there to nod along and show support during the media event. Scrolling the image to the side, Meegi was just able to make out the sky blue dragoness he recognised and found himself smiling a lopsided smirk as he confirmed it was her. Reeva's crimson frill was lying loosely against her neck and she wore the same focused expression he had seen on her face when the teacher was talking. She looked good, not in a sleek, supermodel-who-starved-themselves sort of way, but her body carried a healthy shape, with her chest only being marginally narrower than the other dragons in the frame. Other than Tiiphani and some of her friends, Meegi had not spoken to anyone from his old school since graduation, but he felt both a jolt of surprise and a small pang of nostalgia while looking at the image of Reeva. It was heartwarming to see that she was doing something meaningful, and his eyes lingered on her for so long that his phone screen began to dim from inactivity.

Tapping on the phone to stop the screen from fading, he accidentally tapped on one of the countless ads, and in an instant the image of his classmate was gone as he got redirected to another page and then bounced to another. After a few seconds of trying to escape the loop of sites, a security warning with the Cresties logo filled the screen, advising that the sites had been blocked by the company's network.

Closing the app, Meegi then went back to the screen where he had seen the article, but found that it had been replaced with offers of holidays and getaways to Europe. Lifting his head up and closing his eyes, Meegi exhaled slowly in a low, frustrated growl and tried to ease the tightness in his chest. Leaning to one side, he fetched the bag of fries that had now become more pliable after being pressed to his body and moved them to the other side. He knew that the tension in his chest had nothing to do with his sore muscles, but he found it relaxing and breathed in slow, deep breaths. Seeing his classmate doing something meaningful left an impression on the drake that he could not quite place. He had done many things for the Cresties off the field, but now posing for photographs and having his image used to sell everything from fragrances to anti-chafing harnesses felt hollow and meaningless compared to what Reeva was doing. He was far from jealous at seeing the dragoness do something meaningful, and instead he felt a genuine sense of pride to have been taught alongside the dragoness. If he had his old phone, he would have sent her a message to congratulate her, however her number, along with the rest of his old life, was now managed by the Cresties media team. He could ask them to send something on his behalf, however he knew that whatever he said would then get twisted and professionally spun to remove all sincerity from the message so that it complied with the team's guidelines. For a brief moment he considered leaving the apartment and flying down to the adjacent spire where she had grown up, however it had been years since he had seen the green planters her father had installed on their balcony, and he had not seen her coming or going in what felt like ages. She had likely moved somewhere else, and it would be a both risky and creepy move to land on the balcony of some stranger's home and ask where the previous occupants had moved to. Especially if the new occupants were Dragonball fans and recognised him. The idea of starting a scandal over something so trivial as saying hi to a school friend silenced the idea completely.

Looking back down at his phone, Meegi tapped on the browser icon and searched for the name of the foundation. It was not hard to find, but there was a small red icon next to the URL that indicated it was blocked by the corporate firewall. Thankfully though, when he searched for the name of the organisation's founder, the search engine still fetched some information about the drake and presented it without requiring him to click the link. The company, or non-profit, looked to angle itself as a hip and welcoming start-up style organisation. The sort where the foundation's contact information was allegedly the CEO's work email so that members of the public could contact him directly. Meegi did not believe it for a second and knew there would be a team of admins who managed the mailbox and replied to inquiries appropriately and in a timely manner. However, the naming convention of the email address was just their name followed by the domain of the organisation. An idea began to form in his mind, and without much second guessing, Meegi opened his email and composed a message. Reeva was not a particularly common name, and he hoped that her email followed the same format as he tapped in his guess at her address.

He skipped over the subject line for a moment and pecked at the screen with his talons. He kept the message short, saying that he had seen her in the news and, more importantly, explaining that he was glad to see that she was doing something meaningful. Once he had finished, he scanned it back over and fixed a few mistakes, before tapping back into the subject line and pausing. He was not certain that he had her email address right, or if her company allowed externals, but typing out what he wanted to say to her seemed to lift a weight from his shoulders. Looking down at the blank subject line, he wanted to write something meaningful, something that only the real Reeva would recognise, for his sake more than anything else. Something that she would know that it was from him, and not something one of the countless marketing team members would concoct after message testing it with a sample group. His talons hovered over the keys for almost a minute until a smirk pulled at his snout and he tapped away with confidence.

“I bet our teachers would be proud of you”