How to Make a Sinner Sleep

70 | plea; never made to be

"I apologize. I assumed he would've been out, as he often was." said Noah with a collection of books stacked high in his sturdy arms.

They'd spent a good amount of time browsing the titles, and for every one that interested Kaden, Noah would place onto the pile while also adding in his own recommendations at the same time.

For some, Kaden would flip to the synopsis and inch closer to the dragon, allowing the other to read the description and approve or disapprove.

Today was a time to learn Noah's reading tastes, after all.

They settled in the far corner of the small store, unconcerned about being disturbed. Noah's grandfather revealed no signs of returning—escaping somewhere with his precious teapot. As for other customers, Kaden believed there wouldn't be any for another month.

They organized the books into towering stacks,, sitting beside each other by a sunlit window.

"Your grandfather, right? He looks young."

"The older they get, the younger they can choose to appear. For some dragons, at least. He takes joy in being perceived youthfully and startling people who assume him to be a child." Noah shook his head helplessly. "I haven't seen him in a long time."

A sly grin crept on Kaden's lips. "Kicked out, right? What a troublemaker."

"I took a nap beside one of the shelves." deadpanned Noah. "When I woke, I was lying outside on the streets with cold rain washing my body away."

"Figuratively, or literally?"

"What?"

"I'm picturing a baby Noah pathetically floating in the torrents of rainwater."

"...do remove that image from your mind."

Kaden leaned back comfortably, and laughed. There was something about being in a space isolated from everything else where all facades dropped.

Or perhaps that space was the air beside Noah Bellamy.

He cleared his throat and stretched a hand to grab the first book—a picture book. On the cover was a majestic lion, brushed strokes painting its features, as a small cat sprawled on its head.

He raised it, covering half his mouth as his eyes peered over. "Why don't you tell me about this one first, Bellamy?"

Taking hold of the picture book, Noah flipped to the first page, brushing his fingers against the introductory picture. The lion and the cat, two similar creatures yet different in many ways. The familiar pages of the tale that he hadn't read since his childhood.

"I encountered it by chance when I was a child."

Children of the dragon species were secluded in the Dragon's Treasure, precious existences that were rare and to be protected. Things that were sought for their blood, making them a merchandise to those outside of their home.

Noah had an older and two younger siblings. That alone was rare, for a second child much less four. Many dragons sought independence and lived it until their death.

For some, death came after centuries of history. For others, decades.

For a few, years.

The dragon was raised by his eldest brother, and a mother in his earliest years that he could hardly recall. It was assumed that she'd been hunted, murdered while searching for treasures. There was a detachment that made death foreign and accepted.

It was the expectation that another dragon would either disappear or die due to unforseen incidents.

"Books are a human craft. And all things human were forbidden."