A month later, Nrararn peered at me oddly. “Jyothky? Why didn’t you tell me you were a lesbian separatist?”
“I’m afraid it slipped my mind, Nrararn,” I said. “What on Hove are you talking about?”
He gave me a small booklet — not many pages, I mean, but sized for a dragon’s paws. ”‘The Black Curse is a Vicious Dyke’ What a title! The book is clearly meant for dragons, but uses an offensive nickname and an offensive concept that come from Trest. No dragon would call me the Black Curse. They’d just call me a black girl.” My coloration is boring, both in being a matte monochrome, and in being one of the common female colors.
“Read it!” my husband commanded in imperious tones which brooked no disobedience. Or made me giggle, at least.
I admit to not reading the whole of the booklet. It was rather confusing, making the points that (1) I copulate with many dragons I am not married to, (2) I only actually desire females, preferably female hovens or even animals, and (3) everything else about me is horrible in all sorts of ways.
“That’s not too inaccurate. I’ll concede two of the three points,” I said.
“But you’ll leave out (2), like always,” said Tarcuna.
“You read it?”
“I read it,” she said. “I think I know who wrote it. The style reminds me of certain tracts that religious and civil authorities required me to read when I was first discovered to be lesbian.”Support this project! Show that you’re reading it by exchanging notes with the characters, other readers, the writer, and occasional other entities at sythyry.livejournal.com. And/or buy Bard Bloom’s books on Amazon, especially Mating Flight and World in My Claws, the prequel to this story. Also: Glossary and Dramatis Personae.