Just Call Me What I am
Disclaimer: The story below is a mix of noemata strung together with assumptions and personal flare to make a cohesive narrative. I’m writing it this way because it feels like easier avenue to share how the noemata feel to me and it’s just more fun! - Hortense
Just Call Me What I am
1,052 words
5 Minute Read
“What are we doing again?”
“Picking your name! You said dracomon was your species, I can’t just call you that!”
“Why not? It’s not like Draco is even that different.”
Humans and their names.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“How about Saphira? Falkor?”
“No. Nope.”
“Draco?”
I sit up from my position lying on the floor. It turns out eating like that is harder than it looks. My claws fumble with the crinkly wrappers of the mystery food the human’s given me. Huh. This one is a weird sand color too. Why do they make the outside paper bright orange if this is what it really looks like? It’s just false advertising!
“Hey, what about Draco?”
“Ugh! Why are they all so sticky?” I hiss, downing the “protein bar” in several gulps before starting the task of removing the remaining residue from my paw. Giggling is the only answer given and when I look up to glare at the human girl it just gets worse. She’s busy tapping her pencil against her desk that’s littered with lined paper and colorful tools. Even the pencil she’s holding is covered in the likeness of some cheery yellow cartoon. The smoke accumulating in my nostrils dies as I exhale sharply and turn to dig through the boxes of bars again to hide my embarrassment.
“What are we doing again?”
“Picking your name! You said dracomon was your species, I can’t just call you that!”
“Why not? It’s not like Draco is even that different.”
“Ok but like…what did you do back home? What did the other dracomon call you when you were all together?”
“Other dracomon?” I scoff, pausing to take a bite of a different sand-colored bar and savor the rush of pride at the thought of my answer. “I was the only dracomon brave enough to make the mountains my home. Any others stayed on the ground, too scared of falling to go anywhere.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer because the girl’s expression doesn’t match my own.
“You mean you lived alone…?”
“Yes?” And it was a good thing I did—I used to visit others, but they’re gone now—it’s the only reason I’m still here. The possible additions swirl around my brain like angry bees but die before they can escape my jaws. I start absentmindedly thumping the end of my tail against the carpet. She must notice my mood souring because she jumps in suddenly to break the uneasy silence.
“That’s ok! Because you’re not alone anymore…Ghidorah?”
That one’s not bad. “Absolutely not.”
Her chair creaks with protest as the girl flops forward onto her desk. She even picks up her head and lightly thuds it against the pressed wood several times for good measure. The motion causes the piece of paper filled with all her brainstorming–and what appears to be a drawing of myself—to fly free and drift to the floor. Huh, the art is pretty good.
Saphira, Falkor, Draco, Ghidorah…What is it with humans and their names? The memory of how irritated she’d been when I called her “human” over and over plays on loop. I’ll never understand. It doesn’t make sense. But, maybe it doesn’t have to.
I stand up and stretch, deciding to take pity on the girl who’s still hunched over in defeat. This time I’m even careful not to hit my spiked shoulders or back on the furniture. The marks from earlier when I was less careful still a mar the nightstand. It’s important to her, I don’t have to understand beyond that.
“Alright, alright…how did you come up with these names?”
“Oh, um…” She peeks up over the edge of her arms to glance at the sheet. “I just listed all the dragons I could think of.”
“Uh-huh…so you wanted to give me a stolen name?”
“Well, no! But…” Did I just make her feel worse? “I didn’t even know dragons really existed until I met you. I don’t know what else to say!”
I click my tongue and pretend to read over the list to buy myself time to think. “Hm…dramon-type Digimon—ahem, ‘dragons’ like metals. Like blue diamante which was my favorite. Wait no, forgot that. I’d hate that as a name. …Maybe something powerful! Our type is ancient so something that has that in it too.”
“Something old and strong…sounds a lot like we expected dragons to be.” She giggles lightly.
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it!” She giggles again, more of her good cheer coming back into her voice. Fine keep your secrets.
“Try again.” I grunt, walking over to place her paper back on her desk. Being built for humans, I have to lean up precariously on my toe claws to reach. Extra papers and pens are pushed to the side as my wing membranes shove anything close-by to the side–there’s only so far I can tuck them in!
“We’re learning about space in school and that’s pretty old…” she trails off deep in thought. “Nebula, cosmos?”
I tilt my head to the side in thought, but barely have a chance to open my mouth before she answers her own question.
“Hmm…no, you don’t seem like either! They sound like big, flowy names and you’re…” Our eyes lock and she lets it trail.
…
“I’m not small!”
“I didn’t say that.” She adds, far too smugly for my liking, but I let it slide this time.
…
…
My claws twitch as I watch her scribble things down in silence. Damn, are there any more of those weird food bars left? Is it weird if I’m just watching? It feels odd to just do nothing--
“How about Nova?”
“What?” Good job, now she’ll definitely know I was paying attention.
“It’s a type of star explosion! It happens when one small old star gets super-charged by a companion star and ka-bam! It’s a million times brighter than before.”
“I like explosions.” I say, a small smile making its way onto my muzzle against my will.
“I know right! Sooo what do you think?” Ugh. To delay the inevitable, my eyes flicker to the side, suddenly finding the play of shadow and light on the blinds interesting.
“Fine. You can call me Nova.”
Just Call Me What I am
1,052 words
5 Minute Read
“What are we doing again?”
“Picking your name! You said dracomon was your species, I can’t just call you that!”
“Why not? It’s not like Draco is even that different.”
Humans and their names.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“How about Saphira? Falkor?”
“No. Nope.”
“Draco?”
I sit up from my position lying on the floor. It turns out eating like that is harder than it looks. My claws fumble with the crinkly wrappers of the mystery food the human’s given me. Huh. This one is a weird sand color too. Why do they make the outside paper bright orange if this is what it really looks like? It’s just false advertising!
“Hey, what about Draco?”
“Ugh! Why are they all so sticky?” I hiss, downing the “protein bar” in several gulps before starting the task of removing the remaining residue from my paw. Giggling is the only answer given and when I look up to glare at the human girl it just gets worse. She’s busy tapping her pencil against her desk that’s littered with lined paper and colorful tools. Even the pencil she’s holding is covered in the likeness of some cheery yellow cartoon. The smoke accumulating in my nostrils dies as I exhale sharply and turn to dig through the boxes of bars again to hide my embarrassment.
“What are we doing again?”
“Picking your name! You said dracomon was your species, I can’t just call you that!”
“Why not? It’s not like Draco is even that different.”
“Ok but like…what did you do back home? What did the other dracomon call you when you were all together?”
“Other dracomon?” I scoff, pausing to take a bite of a different sand-colored bar and savor the rush of pride at the thought of my answer. “I was the only dracomon brave enough to make the mountains my home. Any others stayed on the ground, too scared of falling to go anywhere.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer because the girl’s expression doesn’t match my own.
“You mean you lived alone…?”
“Yes?” And it was a good thing I did—I used to visit others, but they’re gone now—it’s the only reason I’m still here. The possible additions swirl around my brain like angry bees but die before they can escape my jaws. I start absentmindedly thumping the end of my tail against the carpet. She must notice my mood souring because she jumps in suddenly to break the uneasy silence.
“That’s ok! Because you’re not alone anymore…Ghidorah?”
That one’s not bad. “Absolutely not.”
Her chair creaks with protest as the girl flops forward onto her desk. She even picks up her head and lightly thuds it against the pressed wood several times for good measure. The motion causes the piece of paper filled with all her brainstorming–and what appears to be a drawing of myself—to fly free and drift to the floor. Huh, the art is pretty good.
Saphira, Falkor, Draco, Ghidorah…What is it with humans and their names? The memory of how irritated she’d been when I called her “human” over and over plays on loop. I’ll never understand. It doesn’t make sense. But, maybe it doesn’t have to.
I stand up and stretch, deciding to take pity on the girl who’s still hunched over in defeat. This time I’m even careful not to hit my spiked shoulders or back on the furniture. The marks from earlier when I was less careful still a mar the nightstand. It’s important to her, I don’t have to understand beyond that.
“Alright, alright…how did you come up with these names?”
“Oh, um…” She peeks up over the edge of her arms to glance at the sheet. “I just listed all the dragons I could think of.”
“Uh-huh…so you wanted to give me a stolen name?”
“Well, no! But…” Did I just make her feel worse? “I didn’t even know dragons really existed until I met you. I don’t know what else to say!”
I click my tongue and pretend to read over the list to buy myself time to think. “Hm…dramon-type Digimon—ahem, ‘dragons’ like metals. Like blue diamante which was my favorite. Wait no, forgot that. I’d hate that as a name. …Maybe something powerful! Our type is ancient so something that has that in it too.”
“Something old and strong…sounds a lot like we expected dragons to be.” She giggles lightly.
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it!” She giggles again, more of her good cheer coming back into her voice. Fine keep your secrets.
“Try again.” I grunt, walking over to place her paper back on her desk. Being built for humans, I have to lean up precariously on my toe claws to reach. Extra papers and pens are pushed to the side as my wing membranes shove anything close-by to the side–there’s only so far I can tuck them in!
“We’re learning about space in school and that’s pretty old…” she trails off deep in thought. “Nebula, cosmos?”
I tilt my head to the side in thought, but barely have a chance to open my mouth before she answers her own question.
“Hmm…no, you don’t seem like either! They sound like big, flowy names and you’re…” Our eyes lock and she lets it trail.
…
“I’m not small!”
“I didn’t say that.” She adds, far too smugly for my liking, but I let it slide this time.
…
…
My claws twitch as I watch her scribble things down in silence. Damn, are there any more of those weird food bars left? Is it weird if I’m just watching? It feels odd to just do nothing--
“How about Nova?”
“What?” Good job, now she’ll definitely know I was paying attention.
“It’s a type of star explosion! It happens when one small old star gets super-charged by a companion star and ka-bam! It’s a million times brighter than before.”
“I like explosions.” I say, a small smile making its way onto my muzzle against my will.
“I know right! Sooo what do you think?” Ugh. To delay the inevitable, my eyes flicker to the side, suddenly finding the play of shadow and light on the blinds interesting.
“Fine. You can call me Nova.”