I know nothing. I’m like John Snow on the wall, figuring out how not to die. I didn’t say a successful John Snow either. I would probably be the last person to recommend my advice. There are far better resources about human interaction. So, here’s what I am going to do. I am going to explain who I am, my storied (and not necessarily always a good way) romantic life and my evolving gender identity.

Hazriel and Arigale Hazriel hated Arigale. They were primordial dragons, brothers and born from starstuff. They were destined to be locked into an eternal struggle to provide momentum to the universe. The gods created them from that purpose. Bred generation after generation until they selected for every malevolent trait. They shared the same fate of all siblings born into fire and dark places. They crawled forth from Obsidian eggs which was a test of strength given even before birth.

“You will drink your tea.” said Warden Basho as Prison 88 stared down at the lacquered tea cup and refused to drink. This was the nine-hundred, ninety, seventh time they had performed this ritual. Prisoner 88 had plenty of time to think, plenty of time to count the days and plenty of time to remain in stoic, silent rebellion. Enumerating his refusals had become the object of his fixation. How many more days could he perform the only act of defiance left to him?