- Whisperpeak Academy for Wayward Dragons - Ch.15 P.2 - Dying Tear

Instructions

(+)"Now, we figured you are beyond emergency guests at this point. We measured the elemental energies of multiple spots here and settled on this area for your new shelter." "It's closest to Oceane's top-secret house, pretty much right below it." Shortie added excitedly. I felt my whole body fuzz up at the idea. The Resistance, making us our very own monumental headquarters? It was like we earned a place here. I only noticed things weren't going as planned as we inched past the damp walls, a scowl forming on Shortie's face. Alex was no more than a lean shadow as he slipped in between crevices, and I began to wonder if this little hideout would actually be useful, speaking of how long it had been taking to get here. "Ugh. There must be been a flaw in the program. The walls were written to open at the presence of you guys- I recorded your voices; took figments of things you owned. Ridiculous." Shortie huffed angrily, flushed and embarrassed. "And I must've missed a screw! Maybe I sautered the circuit board in wrong. Ugh, I've been doing this for so-" John was only beginning to join Shortie's engineering vent when Alex blurted, "Hush up, you two. Have you thought about me turning it off for their own good? They should know how to get here manually." Shortie snorted in exasperation and snapped, "Do you think anyone has been keeping track of our rights and lefts?" I'll admit, I paid no attention to the winding maze before, but her comment definitely woke me up. Gosh, where did this team find these random pockets of time? "Here we are." Alex breathed deeply, about fifteen feet ahead where the stone thinned and bits of dirt and gravel caked its surface. My eyebrows raised at a puff of fresh air. We walked into a modest clearing that looked incredibly natural, with jagged brown walls and a weed-strewn path. But, just one glance at the bluish-green moss, or glowy lichen, was enough to declare this Resistance territory. In the middle of the patch, a cabin was placed messily among twisting hydrangea bushes and a small wistera. It reminded me instantly of when I first turned into a dragon, and from the way Oliver gave my hand a little pump, I knew he remembered too. Our new house was not what I was expecting. It had cobbled walls the color of dark ash and beige wood slats in front that were nicked and stained. The roof was a patchwork quilt of copper and driftwood, dripping with ivy and splotched with moss. It was uneven and low, but delivered an adventurous vibe I'm surprised to say I liked. The door was a rickety metal sheet with a scratched peeking lens, and it was basically glued to its rusty hinges. When we finally made it in, (Alex opened it a lot quicker once I brought attention to the "mysterious" bullet holes in the doorframe) I took notice to the singular bulb attached neatly to the low plaster ceiling, illuminating the room in a cloudy white glow. A few metal hooks lined the walls, to which Oliver eagerly whisked off his soaking hoodie. There was a thin mat of muted colors that led the way to a kitchenette and dining room, which was relieving after being constricted to the tight hallway. Despite feeling annoyed by the lack of space, I understood that even with our background we didn't deserve to waste any more than the other residents. The kitchenette had a faded mossy green fridge pushed into the wall, its doors slightly ajar. Unlike the one at my parents' house, no inviting pale lights beamed through the crack. It looked like one of the cheap coolers high school jocks would bring to their beach parties. Cabinets took advantage of the short unit, bending right over its shape and holding light wooden shelves within its frame. Bleak jars with pieces of yellowed paper filled the whole thing up, waiting for our exploration. The gas-operated stove looked the tackiest, black paint peeling and excess metal parts scraped off for scraps. The space behind the kitchen units was covered with a bumpy cobblestone backsplash. At least it matched the outside walls, and fit well with the blank canvas that was the faintly textured indoor ones. Our small dining table had a plaid tablecloth spread across it, its color matching the fridge and edges torn. I ran my fingers along the oak wood's grooves before retreating to the rest of the group. We proceeded into a darker hall where multiple doors sat in the gloom. "These are your rooms! Strategically placed to meet all of your needs." Alex's face was slack and pleased. Despite the used appearance, I saw the work and(+)