To sail away on a scrap of paper

I sit in the room and I think, if some maniac came in here right now, how am I going to save everyone? Minimal casualties would need a quick wipe out. Maybe I could throw a desk? Am I strong enough to throw a desk? I glance at the conjoined 5 desk workspace. Probably not  im not an elf of Du Weldenvarden. I can barely lift the bar at the gym. Ok, weapons, what kind of weapons do we have. How long did it take ancient warriors to learn any sort of martial arts. What did they eat? How did they even have energy? It drops below 70 and im shivering, miserable and lethargic for the next 4 months. My mind continues to race in circles, circling made up animals, holding debates about the practicalities of magic, siege techniques, the easiest way to make a made up language.

I walk home from class. What if I had a dragon? What color would it be? Would the scales be smooth or like sandpapers. Are they like in Loreth’Aran or Pern. Can it reach into my mind and speak to me? How would I feed it. How long before I can fly on it? Would it let me fly on it? Would that be disrespectful. Maybe if I carried it around on my shoulder when it was little it wouldn't mind so much. What if the government found me. Would they take me away for experiments. Would they separate me from my dragon? How would i break out of my cell and find the lab they would be holding him. What if there was already dragon riders. Would they send us overseas to some secret training facility? I bet that's what area 51 really is.

I walk through my door. My house is so small, like a fairy cottage. Its stuck back into all the other houses on the street like a hobbit hole. Or some back street shop in foggy London. My dog runs up to me, dancing on his legs. What would he sound like if he could talk. Or if he was vastly intelligent and just chose not to use it because his overruling happiness at having a friend was all he really wanted. What if he could grow to the size of a bear if we were on the run or in trouble. That would be so cool.

I run through the lists of elven families in my head as we walk to my room. Our team sets out next week. We still need to assign two players a role and nobody wants the orcs  on this quest for some reason. I start playing with the numbers. If we set out to the first town and encounter the first dragon at least what number or higher do we have to roll for the team to proceed without sacrificing at least one pack animal. I sign and my eyes fall on the sagging bookshelf.One day Ill have enough for a library. Like the Delaunay's did before Melissande wrought her evil schemes. I plop into the shag covered cradle chair that makes my butt numb after sitting for more than 20 minutes. Bills first. Always bills. What if it's always just bills? What if i will never get my gigantic overstuffed wing armchair the color of chestnut and smelling of rickly oiled leather. Or have the roaring fireplace with the intricate carvings on the mantel. And a butler bringing me small crunchy snacks on a platter. Will i never swish down a marble staircase in a marvelous silk dress and pout out a foggy autumn window before going for a ride in the countryside? My heart pines for the wonder and luxury, for the intense smells and tastes and experiences. But I am stuck here. In this tiny room with too much work to do and too much to feel terrible at. I get up. I walk over to the shelf and my hands glide over the covers. Rough, smooth, think, thin, yellowed, and fresh. I don't even need my glasses to find the one i want. Nested in the top right corner, it sits above my favorite trilogies, lying on its side, waiting for a shelf with enough space for it. I put my cup on y desk and steady myself on the stack of books by my waist as I reach for the corner to tip it in my direction. It falls into my hands and I run my fingers over the smoothness of the page as aI flip it open. A familiar scent hits me and I spot the faint mark of graphite Id left years ago with my pencil, while reading in secret when I should have been studying. A calm settles over me and I don't really care about the world. In a good way this time. It can wait. I settle in and i don't notice how cramped and tired my body feels. I don't notice that I'm hungry, I dont worry about the workload ahead of me, or the hours im going to spend ripping at my hair trying to figure out the next round of equations. I am the Pirate King, and my motley crew is about to set of on a raid. My ship is mighty, and strong, with a broad deck and exotic trimmings. My men are powerful and hold terrifying weapons. I sip my tea, my eyes fall to the first sentence, we lift anchor, and sail into the horizon.