On such a perfectly silent night, little pinpoints of light shining from the gradually darkening sky, the quaint town seems almost silent. If not for the occasional warm laughter coming from a few of the cottages, one might guess that it was uninhabited.

On such a perfectly silent night, the hybrid dragonet doesn't seem out of place at all, perched atop the strangely intact brick wall that fences in the garden next to what appears to be their house. They're picking the petals off of a flower, slowly but surely, and dropping them into the river that seperates them from the bustling city, ever so different from their own hometown.

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