#baronyofthesilverwolf

"You could try licking radium paintbrushes? That's a pretty awful way to go young, there was a book..."

"Ahem" A look to Mr Aberdeen "Anyway, Mr. Aberdeen, we thought maybe you could identify it's ...type? we might at least know what to feed him"

Elias looks over Fornax - after glancing to Thistle to ensure it is okay, he uses the tip of narrow fingers to touch the dragon lightly, feeling his skin, and the slender point of a fountain pen (clean of ink) to spread the crumpled hint of wing that hangs off the left 'nub'. Gently, he pulls back, and dips the pen tip into an ink well, starting to jot a quick series of notes on crisp paper.

Fornax lifts his head, tiny nostrils flaring, and gives a piteous creel. Shoulders twitch, if it had proper wings they might flap.

Thistle retrieves the dropper from a pocket. "Hold on.."

She fills the dropper with Marigold's mixture, and offers it to the lopsided little draconet.

Fornax doesn't respond until it lightly brushes his snout, but then turns his head away from the dropper.

"A moment, if I may. Mm, perhaps." He holds out his hand and moves it from side to side, in slow, then quick motions, before the Draconet. Fornax does not follow them, though when he snaps his fingers, his head moves towards the sound.

"He may be mostly, if not entirely, blind." Elias observes.

"Oh" Gwen's heart softens

"I have a theory." He considers. "If I may? It will not injure the small one." Asking of Thistle.

Lizbet looks like she might coo over it, even more enchanted now.

"...Blind?"

"Is that... a.. breed thing?"

"Blaine damaged the poor guy I bet"

"It IS a dragon, of that I have no doubt. However, he looks not unlike a premature chick, broken from an egg that was not fully formed. See how his eyes are sunken, and the fourth and fifth claws are almost connected, rather than distinctly split? And here, the wings, most clearly. It is my presumption that his growth was stunted by the Cold One's presence. Only the presence of the dross that surrounded him managed to maintain any hint of a spark. It is a miracle that he hatched at all."

Thistle's spirals dull towards grey. "Or I fucked it up."

A shake of his head. "You give yourself too much credit, Miss Thistle. The harm that was done here was not something you could have affected. Not unless you possess the means to travel through time, and even I have not heard of any cantrip to do so, apart from in vision form. No, you did not do this to young Fornax. Though assuredly without your intervention, he would have perished unborn."

"No you didn't... Art put in the dross, and that helped him live. You didn't fuck up you... what the wise elder says'

Lizbet bounces slightly on her toe tips. "Uncle. Uncle. Please, may I?"

Elias starts to respond, "No, we do not need a jar."

"No, I wish to try something. Miss Thistle, may I? I promise, I shall not hurt your wee monster." Lizbet pleads.

"The clay wasn't fired. The egg was clay - greenware, and was crumbling. Greenware's real delicate, it should have been fired years ago..."

"I trust Lizbet" Gladiola says to Thistle "She's well, spooky, but she's true"

A wary scowl, looking between the two sluagh.

The young sluagh is too eager and cannot wait for more specific approval, and slips behind her uncle's desk and runs a finger along the shelf behind him, which is lined with books. The titles, such as they can be made out under a thin layer of dust, seem to be censuses, birth records, tax records, town meeting minutes, a folded pamphlet that is a guide to cemetery plots. She shakes his head, frowning. "Uncle, your books are so dreary. It seems we must make due." Pulling out a small stack of the slender volumes, she places then on the desktop next to Fornax.

The dragonet's head rises, and he turns his towards them, though his eyes are still filmy and seem to have some trouble focusing, he crawls a bee-line towards the pages, with more energy than he has shown in the past.

Gladiola looks surprised

Elias blinks, "Ah, perhaps?" And he opens one - 'The History of Carthage Town, Vol. II', and Fornax falls forward onto the page. He rubs his snout against the binding and rests his head atop the page, blinking - but he cannot focus on the printed type, and cries once more, a pathetic sound.

"Miss Thistle. If you would be so kind as to read aloud, from the second paragraph?"

"Uh... 'The village was chartered in 1869. It is one of only twelve villages in New York still incorporated under a charter, the others having incorporated or re-incorporated under the provisions of Village Law..."

Fornax looks rapt in the sound of her voice, crawling up now to sprawl upon the page, which makes it a touch difficult to read. His head raises and tilts, listening, and he complains when she pauses for a breath! His voice has a little more energy in it, and his tail twitches. "Screee??"

"Carthage sits northwest of the Adirondack Mountains along the Black River. The village was rebuilt three times before the publishing of this map, as it was plagued with numerous fires; the last of which, in 1884, spread to West Carthage and destroyed over 150 buildings. This map captures the town as it appeared just four years after that fire and we can see extensive rebuilding efforts with foundries, mills and factories running at full steam..."

"Is he a bookwyrm?"

Gladiola traces her memory, then "Oh my gosh. THistle..Fornax is a bookwyrm or was meant to be"

Seeing the girl has the right of it

Elias looks thoughtful. "He might have been, had he hatched hale and proper. What he will be now, I think, is yet to be seen. I have not made a study on their habits. I would hesitate to conjecture, but would they not be born literate? I seem to recall hearing that they absorb language and knowledge through the very shell, and even hatchlings are able to speak."

Thistle's eyebrows scrunch. "He should be Art's, then."

"Art had the vision about him."

"Maybe he was meant to be" A nod 'Art was there at the start of Fornax's emergence too. I wonder if Mr Tiberius relating stories to Fornax would help?"

"Art's chrysalis was at the library."

A brow raises, and Elias taps on a chimerical volume, checking a page quickly. "Ah, as I thought. So too, Miss Thistle, was yours." He points out.

A faint frown, spirals shifted to green.

"Uh. Yeah, I got caught up in the blast zone."

"What I can tell you, Miss Thistle, is that he will be work. The raising of any infant creature is not a simple task, and this Fornax has been dealt a poor lot, and has odds stacked against him. It will likely be more than a single fledge can devote. Even were he a perfectly formed and hatched bookwyrm, he would need care, and those you can often engross with a new novel to buy downtime. Are you able to take on such a task?"

"Art and you could do it together" Gwen says "You two are a good team"

"I've been feeding him."

"It has not harmed him, not that I can see. I would continue to do so, as much as he will easily consume, and with glamour infused as well. Read to him, if he cannot read yet. And, I would advise seeking the counsel of the Librarian of EarthRunes. She is a foremost expert in the subject of many things, not the least of which is care and rearing of bookwyrms."

Lizbet whispers, "Oh, she is quite terrifying. I admire her so. She can freeze a man's blood with a whisper."

"I could set up a speaker for audiobooks while I'm at school..."

"That's genius" Gwen nods to Thistle

"Art was planning to go to see Madame Scary-an the Librarian."

"Sorry."

"Mistress Zara."

Lizbet looks a little offended, but then nods in approval. "I will escort you, if you wish. She IS my cousin, you see." Clearly eager to visit.

A sly glance to Gwen, and she whispers, "I even have something to trade, in exchange for passage through the trod under Sunlit domain."

"Are all sluagh related? Jeez..."