This is a clay piece inspired by an odd dream. Translation of 'Aqua Voche' is 'Water Voice' and I wrote down the part of the dream which this fellow appears in.
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The Star Dragons, most rare and powerful of the Water Dragon Tribe, were long and sinuous, with beautifully arcing fins instead of wings. They had horns like a stag’s and long, trailing frills around their heads and down their backs. Slim, supple builds and long tails were accented with gently curved legs and long, graceful fingers. One elder walked up and perched on the rock in the center of the clearing. His fins were old and frayed in somwe places. His scales, though slightly dusty, still shone blue in the torch light. All eyes turned to him and conversation died away. “Welcome, my brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. Welcome to the summer Festival of the Moon!” A tub of water was brought out and placed in front of him. “Tonight, we remember the legendary Air Dragon Tribe and the Moon Dragons.” He began to sing softly, his voice deep and soothing, like the quiet trickle of water over pebbles. He leaned back on his haunches and held his hands above the water. As he moved his hands in circles and sweeping motions to the beat of his tail against the small hill, the water rose and twisted in front of him, into the form of a dragon, beautiful and graceful. Its frothy white fur shone with an inner light as its blue eyes danced. Spreading its shimmering feathered wings, it soared elegantly around the clearing, guided by the ancient’s hands. It opened its mouth and cried out, a haunting, sad echo of a moon dragon’s bell like ringing roar. Soon, the crystalline dragon returned to the elder and he slowly came to the end of his low, ringing song. The water fell back into the bowl and the crowd applauded. I think I made his nose too big.