I wasn't planning on getting a new character, but Ryu was showing off a cool kinda design and all I could say was "ryu i'm buying this dragon". She asked if I was for real, and of course I was! I said something like "yes i want it, i love that design, i am buying that dragon". She wasn't convinced so I had to double down: "i am BUYING THAT DRAGON" I pleaded, on metaphorical hands and knees. Luckily Ryu is a big softie, so she'd give me her, but was kind enough to ask: "want me to add details". Turns out those details meant a whole-ass reference sheet!!

So now I have a cutie patootie. (And a character prologue written below)

Juno -  Venusium
Art -  Ryukiri

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It always strikes me as odd how the monotony of everyday life goes unnoticed when you work your tail to its bone. Every single day’s the same. The doors swing open, and in flock the late-night boozers, the rise-and-grinders, and the lonely retirees who just need someone to talk to.

Come evening, the crowd isn’t any different, really. Some drink to forget their day, some eat like they haven’t had food in weeks, and others partake in both. After a while, you learn to mind your own business and keep your paws busy.

I sat behind the counter, polishing the same glass over and over, trying not to fall asleep. Moments before the mindless grumbling of the patrons lulled me to sleep, the diner door swung open with the distinctive chime of its bell.

“‘Ey, Teeto.”

I look up. It’s one of my most frequent customers, Arden, a burly dragon. As he thunks down onto a barstool, rock dust billows off his scales—a sign of a long day’s work. Arden’s smile is warm, but there’s always a profound sadness in his eyes. Nobody signs up to slave their youth away in this mining town, yet everyone finds themselves here for a reason. Arden’s no different, and neither am I.
“Regular pour or something stronger?” I ask. He cocks his eyebrow at me. We both know the answer. Arden taps his talons rhythmically against the countertop as I turn to grab his beloved whiskey.

“Ya don’t always need t’put it back on the top shelf, y’know. Saves me havin’ t’watch ya wobble on that ol’ rackety stool.”

“And serve dinner without a show?” I reply with a smirk, pausing for dramatic effect.

Arden doesn’t dignify me with a response, just a dry chuckle—the highest compliment you get from a guy like him.

He isn’t exactly easy to talk to, but fortunately, a gaggle of guys stumbling into the diner breaks the silence.

“TEETOOOOO!” one shouts as he leans onto the counter.

Arden rolls his eyes and moves to a corner seat, clearly not in the mood to deal with the riffraff. I can’t blame him.

It’s obvious these guys are new to the scene, both from the light in their eyes and the stench of alcohol on their breath. They order a few flights of beer, but it’s clear these aren’t their first drinks of the night, nor do they intend for them to be their last. Despite their early enthusiasm, their orders dwindle quickly as the lightweights drift off to a booth. I certainly wasn't going to complain.

Glancing out the window, I can tell it’s about time to resign myself to the nightly fate of mopping up the drinks dragons can’t hold down. It isn’t glamorous, but it’s part of the job. I drag a wooden mop bucket under the tap and stare into it as ripples distort the faint reflection of my face. I don’t have time to ponder some poetic meaning before the door chimes once more.

In walks a new dragon, odd for this time of night. She sits down at the stool Arden had vacated, looking uncertain. Back to the polished glass routine, I think. The dragon looks at her paw, up to the menu, back to her paw, menu, paw, menu. It’s unbearable.

“You must be from Terrathall,” I say, breaking the awkward silence.

She looks up at me, surprised. Her glasses sit firmly between the thick green scales of her snout—a clever design.

“Yeah... How’d you know?” she asks, her tone cautious but curious.

“Where do I begin? Your scales are way too clean to have been working the mines, and most dragons around here can recite their orders in their sleep. But the biggest giveaway?” I nod toward her paw. “You’ve been staring at those coins like they might sprout legs and run off.”

She blinks, then chuckles softly. “Wow. That’s… thorough. Do you always analyse your customers like this?”

“Only when they’re as interesting as you,” I jest, trying to lighten the mood. “But honestly, Terrathall’s the only place I know that doesn’t use those coins. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

Her shoulders relax a little, and she blushes. “I guess I’m not exactly blending in.”

“No, not really. So, what’ll it be?”

“Oh—uhm, just a green tea, please.”

“Coming right up,” I reply.

An unusual order for an unusual dragon. Solid metal cup, fill with water, fire ’til boiling, drop in the teabag, and serve. Easy as that. As I place the cup on the counter, long streaks of steam catch the overhead light.

“Careful, love, it’s hotter than you’re used to.”

She doesn’t heed the warning and instead wraps both paws comfortably around the cup.

“I appreciate the concern, but these paws were built for digging—they’re tough,” she says, pausing to slide a lump of coins toward me. “Is this enough to cover it?”
It’s easily enough for a dozen teas, let alone one. It would be so easy to just take it, but it wouldn’t be right. I hook a couple of talons into the centre hole of the coins, dragging them along the counter until they drop into a shallow glass tray alongside previous payments.

“A free piece of advice from me: be careful to whom you flaunt such wealth. A lot of dragons around here aren’t fond of new money but will happily play you for a fool.” I push the rest of the pile back toward her; it’s still slightly warm to the touch.

“I appreciate that. I’d love to stay but it’s already much too late, I should be heading out and sleeping through what’s left of the night. It’ll be a long day tomorrow,” the green dragon says as she makes her way to the door.

“Hey, thanks for making this night a little more interesting,” I say. “But I never caught your name.”

“It’s Aspen. And yours?”

“Well, my name’s Juno, but everyone calls me Teeto. He used to run this place before me. I don’t really like it, but I guess some dragons don’t like change.”
“You don’t have to settle for the way things are, you know.”

I sit there and ponder it, but before I can respond, the door’s bell chimes again, and she’s gone.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about her, but days turned to weeks, then months, and I couldn’t get the image of her and that line out of my mind. You don’t have to settle for the way things are, she said. So nonchalantly too!

Maybe she’s right.