Title: True Secrets of Blue Dragons (or "Why Galen Doesn't Live On the Excalibur.")
Author: Iocane
E-mail: Iocane@crosswinds.net
Summary: Just the author being irreverent with Galen.
Rating: PG-13 I'd say.
Disclaimer: Galen and the Excalibur and all related stuff belong to TNT, JMS, WB, and many otherletter-groupings. None of it's mine.
Note: This story is not meant to be taken too seriously, okay folks? Please don't get offended by it, as it's not intended to be insulting or anything. I'm just having some fun with the characters, and I hope you will have fun reading it. Drazilskin is supposed to be drazilskin, it's not Draziskin.
Archiving: WWOMB, Crusadefic archive, anyone else, please ask.  

I'm really really nervous about posting this (Despite the reassurances of my wonderful beta reader!) so any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated.


True Secrets of Blue Dragons
(or "Why Galen Doesn't Live on the Excalibur")


Galen sat back on his ship and thought about he was going to wear. "Dancing Queen" by Abba filled the small cabin.

The technomage decided on a blue dragon motif this time.

Selecting first the dark blue panties and garter belt, Galen held them for a moment, remembering when he'd gotten them. It had been his sixteenth birthday party, and his best friend, Enacoi, had given them to him.  He fondly remembered thanking his friend all that night, and well into the next day. They were still his favorite set.  Standing, he slid the sheer lacy panties up his legs, molding them against his crotch and hips.  Next, the garter belt was pulled snug against his waist.

Next came the shimmery, scale-patterned stockings. Sitting down, he raised his well defined leg and wiggled his toes into the bunched up stockings. Slowly, carefully, he smoothed the tehcnomage silk against his leg, expertly fastening it to the garter belt. He lowered his leg, his hands caressing the silken clad skin, causing him to shiver slightly with pleasure.  Galen repeated the process with the other leg, savoring the feel of his legs clad in silk that was more than silk. As he stood, the stockings clung to his leg like a second skin, shimmering with each tiny movement of his muscular legs.

Slipping his feet into drazilskin shoes with a six inch spiked heel, Galen reached for the corset.

The corset was silver, and shone blue in certain light.  The material was a technomage secret, passed on through the generations.  As the sealers pulled the material taut across Galen's lean chest and stomach, he sighed softly.  It was at times like this that he most missed having a companion to share this part of his life with.  Nothing could replace the irregular tug of being laced up by another person, no matter how inexpertly they did it.

He knew, however, that such a thing would be impossible.  No one outside the Order was to know of their cross dressing tendencies.  And since Galen was no longer a member of that Order ...

Once again resigning himself to a solitary cross dressing life, Galen seated himself at the dresser.  The dresser, a gift from Alwyn, came with many small compartments for cosmetics, jewelry, accessories, and a wonderful three angled mirror.  There was also a delightful magnifying mirror for closeup work.

After searching for the perfect base color, he found what he was looking for.  In the jar, it seemed white, but when applied to skin, it turned a very, very pale and muted shade of blue.  It set off his eyes beautifully. Next came the blush; a dark blue that accented his cheekbones and elongated his face.  To further enhance the dragonish look, he picked a blue eye shadow that complimented the other cosmetics.  Closing one eye, he smoothed it over the lid gently.  After coloring both lids, he continued to spread the color.  Finally he arched line, blending it with his  eyebrows, nearly to his temple.  After applying a small amount of blue shading to his nose, he washed his hands and checked his appearance.

His face had the look of a young dragon, with a lean, hard body to match. Just two more touches, and he would be complete.

First, the gloves.  They were another closely guarded technomage secret.  Delicately, Galen tugged them onto his hand, working his fingers into them quivering at the sensations. He flexed his fingers, molding the material to his long fingers.  Smiling, he extended and retracted the silver-blue claws.  Like the stockings, the gloves shimmered with the smallest of movements.

The final - and most important - touch was the wig. Ideally, his whole skull would be painted with a scale design, beginning at his face and extending down his back and arms.  Again, Galen missed having a companion - someone to help and be helped.  Galen could of course do it all himself, but it just wasn't the same.  Without that personal element, it just wasn't worth it.  Even so, the wig was a masterpeice in itself.

Passed to him from Elric, the wig had been the envy of every technomage for years.  For one, the coloring was incredible - impossible to pin down. The strands seemed to absorb the color from its wearer. If the person was wearing red, it accented it perfectly; if blue, the same.  It had been handcrafted by Elric himself. Aside from the color, the length was also impressive.  Even on the tall Galen, it fell well below his knees.

Studying himself in the mirror, Galen posed.  He looked at himself from every possible angle, recording it all.

Finally, the weariness of the past weeks aboard Excalibur caught up to him and he decided to sleep.

Removing nothing, Galen curled up on the bed. He reached under the pillow and retrieved his beloved Gundle (a large, pink and green flop eared stuffed bunny). Sticking his thumb firmly in his mouth, Galen fell promptly asleep.