The Molting Mark brass carried on the shift of

carried on the shift of air

worn on the wrist — an unspoken oath

Deposition gathers at the former bloom sites

and a reminder that strength and beauty could exist in perfect harmony

roots threading through mortar

The Molting Mark brass carried on the shift ofSera waits until the dragon settles into its slower breath, the kind that lifts the flank in long, even intervals. The scales along its side lie close and dark, each plate fitting into the next with a precision that leaves no room for doubt. She places her fingers at the edge of one that has begun to loosen, feeling where it has already lifted from what held it before. It comes free with a soft tug. Warm at first, heavier than it looks once it rests