Once upon a time, there was a fairytale kingdom that had no air in it.
This could have been a charming and intriguing idea for a magical world where people don’t need oxygen.
Or it could be a lovely mermaid tale (might we, as people in a hypothetically-modern era, create a treaty of mutual destruction, wherein we no longer even suggest that a story about mer-persons be a “mermaid tail”, just as no things-of Halloween ought be “spooktacular” in a caring Universe?) – wherein we speak of the curious and wonderful life beneath briny waves.
But no. This fairytale world was simply at the whim of the sinister Narrator, who decided, one day, to suck all the air out of the entire Realm (and, one presumes, the whole World).
And everyone died. Unpleasantly, if truth be told, though (since this is a charming fairytale) – we shan’t dwell too long upon that.
Some things are the work of wrathful Gods, some things are the work of uncaring physics, and some things are simply awful and make no sense.
This wasn’t any of those.
For though the actions of the Narrator were both cruel and arbitrary, it turns out that Dragons are not like other beings, and don’t need air. They don’t even require it to fly; the wings are for other purposes altogether, though we shan’t tell you precisely what those are, as you do not have a need to know certain details of Draconic anatomy (and amatories, if truth be told.)
Thus it was that whilst all the silly beings of land and sea were lying about as ridiculous corpses, the Great Lizards buzzed and spun and dived and danced all their secret dances and told all the stories that they never let outsiders hear, and in general, had a marvelous time.
And they all lived happily ever after, if by “all”, we mean “all the Dragons”, and if you know me, then you know that’s the only thing that counts.
As for the humans, they probably would’ve killed each other off, or turned the castles into condominiums, and so, who cares?
