Skip Navigation
Horrible Little Brats [Hatching]
|
|
Post by Scorch on Sept 25, 2013 4:39:28 GMT
The fog was thick, curling around Bellonath in a cold parody of an embrace and laying over the eggs in a thick shroud. The faint light shimmering from the top of the cavern failed to penetrate the fog, turning the clutch into a loose grouping of gray shapes with only the looming bulk of Ancient Terror standing distinct. One of those little lumps twitched a bit and Bellonath turned her head to investigate it.
Calm down. She told her offspring, her eyes whirling a slow green. There will be plenty to eat when your time comes. She lowered her head to investigate the egg, her tongue flicking out to rasp away a few grains of sand. Though eating that will give you a stomach ache. Especially now.
A cloaked figure hovered at the edge of the sands, ignored by Bellonath and ignoring her in kind. The crimson figure seemed happy to merely watch the eggs, shrouded in fog and shade as it was. They folded their hands inside the folds of their robes.
A loud crack interrupted the temporary peace of the moment, drawing Bellonath's attention to the clutch. Ah. I knew you would be the first. Always the proud one. Very well, you impatient creature. I will call your human. The eggs hatch! Candidates, to the sands! Other humans, to the stands! If you get lost, you will not be helped! Bellonath folded her paws primly against her chest, drawing her head high and watching the eggs with pride.
The egg continued to shudder and rock, heavily thumping against the sand as its occupant fought for freedom. With a great heave, the dragonet inside rolled into the fresh air. They took a great gulp, sucking in the stale air of the Neath greedily and rising shakily to their feet.
The dragonet shook his forepaw, scattering egg goo and only succeeding in gathering more sand on his cloudy gray hide. The Trophy Hunter Gray dragon stepped from the remains of the Hidden Threat egg, his eyes gleaming a dull red. He stumbled in the sand, letting out a low groan as he tried to find his footing.
The gray turned his attention to the gathering humans, baring his teeth and drawing himself into a crouch. His tail lashed like that of an angry feline and his eyes deepened to a red close to black. He was a stocky thing, with a powerful, broad head even with all the baby chub on it.
You're a good one. Bellonath announced. You'll be a fine Enforcer.
Her son snarled back at her.
Mind your manners. She scolded.
|
|
|
|
Post by Scorch on Sept 25, 2013 4:41:34 GMT
Hidden Threat - Trophy Hunter Gray - Unimpressed
Deadly Purity - Unhatched
Flea Bitten - Unhatched
Rotten Teeth - Unhatched
Perfect Imitation - Unhatched
Playing God - Unhatched
Ancient Terror - Unhatched
Shaking Earth - Unhatched
|
|
|
|
Post by giftwrapped on Sept 25, 2013 4:54:12 GMT
The call interrupted nothing in particular, though its arrival in its intended's head caused her to jerk instinctively, crossbow shot going wildly awry and startling off the rat it had been aimed at. Ah well. Such was life, she supposed. The miss was lamented briefly before the shooter actually took a moment to realize exactly what had startled her.
The realization ran cold through her body: eggs were hatching.
Eggs.
The cold of the realization turned into a shiver of horror. Kennes wasn't ready for this, not after the horrific experience that had been the Touching. Whatever animals were locked inside these shells, they weren't something she wanted to be around for any length of time. They were trouble and she knew it. But...still, she had signed the papers. Her life was moving in the right direction, for once. It wouldn't do to say no to the Enforcers or the Masters, not now that she had signed onto...whatever this was. She didn't like it, anymore. But a promise was a promise, and she'd honor that promise.
And a dragon that would hurt her mind couldn't possibly Impress her, right? That didn't happen?
She hoped not.
As she filed onto the Sands, unable to see much beyond the fog and the general darkness, and unsure of what had and hadn't hatched yet. Which egg had split? What was that snarling dim shape in front of her? She wished, idly, that she had brought her crossbow, but that would have been in bad form. Didn't take weapons to Hatchings, did you? Was it actually a rule, or did she just think it was one? Could she have come onto the Sands armed? Had she made a terrible mistake by not doing it?
Only time would tell, she supposed.
And so Kennes stood quietly, with her hands clasped at her sides in tight fists. If anything came too close to her, she'd fight it. At least then she'd go down swinging.
|
|
storm
A New Face
Posts: 17 
|
Post by storm on Sept 25, 2013 5:08:39 GMT
Couldn't she just... not go?
Morrigan weighed the option for a moment dully, the memories of the eggs still fresh in her mind. And the hunger still gnawing faintly, something she hadn't been able to get rid of no matter how much she'd eaten. She didn't want to venture onto the Sands, risk mauling or Impressing to one of those -
But at the same time, she owed the Bazaar this. She liked the Neath, as much as her parents had feared it. Some of the eggs hadn't been too frightening - only the worst had been.
Of course, it was the worst she feared. Still, the thought of the Bazaar, the duty she had to it - and that she had already agreed to this. Backing out now - it wasn't even possible. She knew that, didn't she? Besides, nightmares or not, it wouldn't change anything.
She was still bad luck - she had that certainty to comfort her.
Shoulders hunched and already settled into that particular stance to make herself seem small, meek, barely anything to look at, Morrigan headed onto the Sands with the rest, heart beating unpleasantly fast, as if to remind her that she wasn't some spectre of the Neath, but someone quite mortal and quite easily killed right now. But death didn't frighten her half as much as the thought of being clung to and eaten away by the hunger and greed of the eggs she had touched. But the whole point of what she was that she was misfortune. She brought it with her. It billowed outward from her like a cloud one couldn't see, with her safely at the epicentre, unable to be touched.
In this, it had to be the same. She would Impress, and it wouldn't be unlucky for her.
For everyone else? She didn't know. Could dragons be affected as people were?
She now had the unwelcome chance to find out.
|
|
|
|
Post by Scorch on Sept 25, 2013 5:30:03 GMT
Trophy Hunter is sulking, coiled in the sands and biding his time. He certainly seems distressed about something, sometimes snapping at the air as if fighting off invisible demons. He flaps those small, undeveloped wings and stirs up the sand as he grumbled miserably to himself. His mother is unphased by his unusual behavior, instead turning her attention to the next egg to begin rocking.
Deadly Purity is already well into hatching, nearly split in half by the crack running down its surface. The dragonet pushes its way up from the top, bursting head first from the egg and stumbling onto the sand. She's a scrawny thing with legs that are too long for her bony body, covered in an oily sheen that makes her look as if she's been dipped in grease. The black dragonet hisses, her hide gleaming in sick green overtones in the gloomy light of the Neath.
The Hive Queen dragonet wavers, trying to figure out how to do this walking thing. She manages to get her feet under her and stretches up to that full, impressive height... only to fall over to her side. She's back up quickly, huffing and sorting out her wings. How did one do this walking thing? Alright, head up. Pretend to have some regality. She half-struts, half-stumbles to her brother and greets him with a musical chirp.
He greets her with a snap and a low hiss.
The pair regard each other for a second, evidently speaking quietly between themselves. It's Hive Queen that strikes first, knocking her smaller brother into the sand and clumsily pouncing upon him before he can get up. She goes from friendly and regal to violent quicker than her brother could predict and they're quickly rolling through the sand, howling in fury and splatting ichor everywhere.
Trophy Hunter gets a good grip on her wing and she's chewing futilely on his thick throat when Bellonath intervenes. She effortlessly plucks Hive Queen off of her brother, setting her to the side and nudging her roughly into the sand. Trophy Hunter growls, giving his sister a red eyed glare and quickly retreating to the candidates.
He leaves droplets of ichor behind him as he makes his way to the candidates, passing by them without stopping to investigate the potential choices. A boy who reaches to him loses a finger for his presumptions. A girl is bitten on the calf for not backing up quickly enough. It's less intentional violence and more lashing out in anger over his own hurt. The humans are soft and squishy and good for sinking his teeth into.
Hive Queen sits on a mound of sand and watches him, her eyes whirling a smug green and her tail folded neatly over her paws.
Stop! He calls, his voice more akin to a lost child then the violent beast that had clashed with his sister. It's lonely and frightened and he pushes his way through the crowd of candidates to the one that doesn't want him at all. He finds his way to Morrigan, desperately pressing his bloody muzzle against her legs.
Stop running from me. Don't be afraid of your Hith. It's less a demand and more of a plea as he turns his head up to gaze at her with rainbow eyes. I want you. I want you, I want your bad luck, I want your happiness and your sadness. I want to hunt the biggest beasts with you and... please stop running from me, Morrigan. He ducks his head back against her legs. I love you.
|
|
storm
A New Face
Posts: 17
|
Post by storm on Sept 25, 2013 14:36:03 GMT
Somehow, seeing the dragons was a little less frightening than the eggs themselves. They had been strange and frightening and nothing she could understand - but now they were alive and breathing and clumsy. It took away from the fear, just a little - even if the savagery with which the newly hatched black and grey fought was startling. Clearly, they held no love for each other.
But then Bellonath split up the fight with almost envious ease, and the grey strode amongst the candidates. Morrigan found herself tensing a little, watching as it bit at one hapless girl, but she was bad luck, that was just how it went. It wouldn't touch her, but it would maul others -
And then she was proven wrong in part, because something large and wet abruptly shoved itself against her legs, a forlorn voice that didn't hurt so much as Bellonath's had sounding in her head. Stop! Stop running from me. Don't be afraid of your Hith.
Numbly, she looked down, into eyes that were no longer red with fury, but shimmered with every colour. I want you. I want you, I want your bad luck, I want your happiness and your sadness. I want to hunt the biggest beasts with you and... please stop running from me, Morrigan. For a moment, the words couldn't quite match up with what she remembered, with the black and silver egg that had clung to her, dragging her down into it - but those memories had less power than the dragon in front of her. She faltered, not sure of what to think, what to say.
I love you.
But she hadn't heard those words with such sincerity in such a long time.
"Hith," she said in acknowledgement, testing out how it sounded. It felt right - as if she had been waiting to say it. There was something more she had to say, though, to reassure him....
"I won't run from you." And she carefully placed her hand on that stocky, blunt head, so overwhelmed by what she was feeling that she paid no mind to the blood on him. Besides, it was fitting - that the dragon of someone who was bad luck had brought more upon another candidate. Now she had her answer - he was part of it too.
|
|
|
|
Post by giftwrapped on Sept 25, 2013 17:31:57 GMT
Kennes watched the dim shapes in the mist, the first hatchling moving on the Sands, snapping at nothing - shapes in the fog, probably. Movement. They were animals, after all, she reminded herself. It made her feel a little better...though not much. And then another egg cracked, another dark shape in the fog - this one darker than the first, though she couldn't tell by how much.
That clumsy dark form in the mist, the chirp met by a snarl - and then the two were attacking one another, the Sands exploding into violence that made Kennes stand even stiller, drawing in on herself and giving a little involuntary shudder. Faranth - so suddenly, too. She had been prepared for dragonets mauling humans, but the fight between the two of them - she had seen canines fight, before, and it was as dangerous for bystanders as for the combatants. Would this be the same thing? The thought made her shudder and back away slightly.
And then Bellonath was separating them, the clutchmother depositing the thin, darker shape on the Sands. The first hatchling (thicker than the second, with a larger head and lighter hide) had snarled and started in the direction of the Candidates, and Kennes took another involuntary step backwards. It - he, she could tell it was male, now that she could see that grey hide - was lashing out at Candidates left and right, and Kennes again removed herself from it. She would fight if she had to, but if she could avoid the confrontation then she wouldn't need to.
And it seemed that she had managed, when the grey suddenly found what he was looking for, curling around a thin girl Kennes thought might have looked vaguely familiar.
Whatever. It was safe again. Her gaze turned again toward the thin black on the Sands, expression pulling into a doubtful frown. She didn't trust that hatchling in the slightest.
|
|
|
|
Post by giftwrapped on Sept 26, 2013 14:10:10 GMT
It wasn't Ralley's first Hatching. She'd been around the block a time or two since she had signed up as a Candidate, and though no dragon had been interested in her (could people who had died once even Impress? she didn't know) there had been...interesting moments. She was ready for this clutch, she thought. Or maybe she wasn't, you never could tell with dragonets, but Ralley certainly wasn't as nervous a some of the faces she saw. The young ones, in particular, seemed...afraid. She didn't blame them. The thick fog, the dim light...Hatchings were stressful at the best of times, and it didn't help that this clutch had been rumored to be...less than ideal.
She stood at the fringes of the group of Candidates but toward the front, to get a better look at what was coming, and so that inadvertent maulings by dragons heading directly to Theirs were less likely to happen. At least this way if something lashed out at her, she'd know she deserved it. And hopefully that wouldn't happen at all. The first dragon to hatch, of course (something deep inside her rolled its eyes) was bound and determined to prove her wrong as it hissed and started its move toward the Candidates. Ralley watched impassively.
But it was the second dragon that seemed to be cause for concern. Large for a hatchling - and quite tall - it (was it a black? she?) moved in a way that...wasn't quite the regular clumsy of a dragonet. And then her soft, musical chime to the other hatchling was met with a snarl, and all hell broke loose. Ralley swallowed, crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to mask anxiety. It had been so quick - an instance of greeting turned immediately to malice.
And then a large, dark muzzle separating the pair, pushing Hive Queen into the Sands and allowing time for Trophy Hunter to escape. Ralley's lips twitched into a fragile smile. She understood it, the need for motherly intervention. But Bellonath's actions were not reprimand so much as they were...well, simply separating the two. Had it been her children, Ralley would have...well, it didn't matter. These weren't children, and besides, Ralley didn't have a say in raising her own get anymore. That was what being dead did to you.
The thought was unpalatable, so she shoved it down, instead glancing in the direction the grey dragonet had gone. He seemed to have found his in a confused, tiny thing (slip of a girl, how old even was she?) and left a trail of carnage in his wake. Ralley sighed softly, looking at the bleeding Candidates. This wasn't an auspicious start to the theoretically-happy occasion of a Hatching. And yet...it seemed to make sense. It was a good way to make Enforcers. She looked at the crimson-robed figure in the fog only briefly, eyes narrowing at it. The Masters were watching this. No doubt they were enjoying it.
The thought of those strange, alien intelligences holding so much power over the people of Igen made her skin crawl, and she suppressed an involuntary shudder, tearing her eyes away from whichever Master that was and returning it to the dragons. The Hive Queen hatchling hadn't moved yet - still perched imperiously on her little mound of sand. Ralley's gaze remained fixed on that bony black silhouette in the fog. The dragonet had gone from disinterest to violence so quickly, so impossibly quickly. She was dangerous, but the fear that crept through her at the thought of an animal so easily moved to attack left a shuddery sort of curiosity in its wake. So young. SO dangerous already.
Why, little one?
|
|
|
|
Post by Chill on Sept 26, 2013 22:06:19 GMT
Hayyel was quite certain that he was never going to get used to having dragons suddenly talk directly in to his brain. Well, he wasn't going to for a while, at least. He was sure he'd eventually get used to it if he Impressed, but- oh! Impression! That was what the dragon was talking about, and that meant he needed to get to the Sands right now!
Unfortunately, he wasn't so good at that 'right now' thing, and the eggs were already cracking when he got there. Oh no. That was absolutely no good. He bowed quickly to Bellonath, desperately hoping that she was so focused on her babies that she wouldn't be bothered by how very slow his running had been. Soon enough, though, he was done focusing on the clutch mother, and turned his attention to the newly hatched grey. It didn't seem to be a very happy baby, being nasty to its mother and all
But hey, maybe that was how dragon babies were. Hayyel didn't know. After all, this was the first time he had seen baby dragons! And goodness, wasn't that exciting? Even if he had heard some very bad things about what happened at hatchings, they were still baby dragons hatching! Baby dragons that could love and care and talk! Baby dragons that would grow up and keep order! Baby dragons, with sharp claws and big teeth! Baby dragons that could maul and scratch and bite! Oh. Oh dear.
Another baby was on it's way, though, and that drew his mind away from all of the terrible things that could happen. She was lovely, in a strange way, with the odd sheen to her hide. For a second, he looked back to the sulking grey dragon. Was it okay? Could it be sick? That'd be no good! As the black dragon approached her sibling, however, his concern lessened. She was going to check if he was okay, right? How nice of them!
Except, oh, she wasn't checking on him. Hayyel watched the fight with growing horror, though he was certain not to take a step back. That'd be bad; then he'd be seen as super scared and weak, and not Impress any of the dragons. Still, he couldn't help but be concerned by the fight. At least it was over soon enough, and the pair backed away from each other. Not...that it was much better when the grey went and bit people before he finally Impressed.
That wasn't a very good way to start things off, was it? Oh, oh dear. Hayyel was starting to worry.
|
|
|
|
Post by Scorch on Sept 26, 2013 23:43:02 GMT
The little black didn't seem in any hurry to Impress despite the fact she was surely starving. She just sat on her little sand pile, her tail curled around her paws and her eyes focused on the candidates. Maybe her rider hadn't arrived yet. Maybe she was just being a little shit. It could go either way, really. Bellonath didn't seem all that concerned.
Playing God seemed less willing to be all mysterious and patient. The egg was rocking wildly, one green foot already sticking out of it. With a wild jerk, the dragonet freed herself and burst into the stagnant air of the Neath. She let out an indignant squawk, rolling in the sand and encrusting herself with shell fragments and sand. The bright dragonet pulled herself up, trying futilely to shake herself free of the debris. After a moment, she gave up and looked around the sands with orange eyes.
The Speedy Thief dragonet noticed her sister first. With a strange, bark-like noise she set off to meet her sister. Hive Queen didn't budge, looking over the smaller dragonet as she sniffed at her feet. They looked each other over, exchanging a few chirps, before bumping noses and pleasantly rubbing their heads against each other. With that, the now ichor-smeared Speedy Thief set off towards the candidates.
She stopped to look over one of the injured candidates from her brothers prior maulings, carefully looking over the wound with green eyes. She sniffed at a few green-tinted spots of sand before slowly continuing into the crowd of candidates. She swiped experimentally at Kennes and then stopped to stare at the rips in her clothing. Then she was off again.
She stumbled into Ralley's legs, hooking her claws onto her clothing and pulling herself up onto her haunches. She's not that interesting. The dragonet sniffed in a disinterested manner. Quit thinking about her, Ralley. Think about your Liensith instead. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. There are things I want to know. Like... oh, everything. Let's start with the things about organs.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chill on Sept 27, 2013 2:43:04 GMT
Hayyel let out a sigh of relief as the green and black interacted with zero issues. In fact, they seemed downright friendly to one another. Maybe the grey had just been particularly violent and the rest of the hatching would go fantastically! How great would that be! All of his worry was pushed aside in favor for hope for the future, especially as the green Impressed without hurting anyone.
Less maulings was better, after all!
--
"Oh, Barresk. The poor babies!" The distressed cry was far too loud for a simple conversation- especially when that conversation could be had mentally. However, Barrett didn't seem to much care that he was being noisy with his worry, turning to the wher next to him and frowning horribly.
So much hurting. Need good doctors!
"I know, sweetheart, but they don't want us there. They want their weyr healers- and who knows how dirty their hands are? All of those poor hurt candidates." Despite how concerned the words sounded, he didn't seemed too worried about the candidates dying or anything. Just concerned that they weren't the ones taking care of them.
And dragon babies!
"And the poor hurt dragons! Oh, Barresk, why do we do this to ourselves? It's a terrible thing, for healers to have to stand idly by." The wher nodded solemnly, resting her head against her handler's shoulder as he stared at the hatching going on. "It just isn't fair. Why would they reject our offers of help? We're such good doctors." Was it because Barresk had a job outside of the weyr? Would they pass up the very best medical help just because of that? How shallow!
He ripped his eyes away from the hatching, focusing on the wher next to him for a moment. "It's good for dragons to hurt and fight and all- I mean, they do have those sharp, lovely claws for a reason, but they just need good, proper doctors after trying them out. And we're good enough, aren't we?"
Yes! Decided not to let us help, though. How silly. The weyr should let us make decisions.
"They should. Everyone should, but they won't. And these poor babies aren't getting the best care because of it." 'Poor babies' seemed to be a favorite phrase. "How awful. Just awful."
|
|
|
|
Post by Scorch on Sept 27, 2013 3:23:19 GMT
Shattered Earth exploded. There was really no other word for the shower of eggshells, the sudden cacophony of mournful howls and Bellonath's concerned croons. A pale brown shape writhed in the sand, stirring up clouds of sand and mixing ichor and egg fluid into the grains liberally. The large dragonet hissed, swiping at his mother when she tried to help him to his feet and rolling away from the black dragon.
The Walk Softly Brown wailed, pushing himself to his feet. He shuddered violently, shaking his head back and forth and making more of those awful, terrified noises. He stumbled forward, trying to find balance on the sand and failing. He completely ignored his sister as he made his way to the candidates, pushing a small boy into the sands and thwacking a girl with his thick tail. Another reached out to try and steady him and she received a violent bite to her leg.
He stumbled again and whined, reaching out with one of his wing-fingers to try and steady himself. The claw hooked on Hayyel's clothing and the brown turned his head to follow its path. The dragonet stared for a moment, blinking rapidly as if trying to make his vision focus.
Hayyel? He tried. Is that you? Everything is blurry. I hate this. I hate this! It's not right! Your Devoniath will fix it with fire! After you feed me, of course. Please? Yes, that word. Food, Hayyel! He whined, still shuddering as he pressed his head against Hayyel.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chill on Sept 29, 2013 0:01:50 GMT
Squinting, Hayyel tried to peer through the thick cloud of sand that the newest hatchling had stirred up, a deep frown on his face. Was something wrong with the baby? That'd be terrible! The fact the wailing noises continued even as it stumbled to its feet and made its way to the candidates worried him deeply. Would it be okay? He sure hoped so.
Fear suddenly cut through that sadness as the little dragon approached, still screaming to the heavens. Hayyel was quite prepared to be in pain and nearly flinched a bit before, suddenly, something quite miraculous happened. Hayyel? He looked down at the dragon, eyes wide. Is that you? Everything is blurry. I hate this. I hate this! It's not right! Your Devoniath will fix it with fire! After you feed me, of course. Please? Yes, that word. Food, Hayyel!
The dragon -no, not just 'the dragon', Devoniath- was talking to him, and it was so much different than any dragon ever, and it was so fantastic. "I- h-hi, Devoniath. It's- it'll be okay. We- fire? No, that's- I-...Let's- let's just get you food, okay? Hi, Devoniath." He wasn't even sure what he was saying, just babbling at the dragon. After a moment, he crouched down to hug the little brown's thick neck.
Yes! Food! Where's the food!? I can't see it! This isn't right! The dragon struggled out of his rider's grip so he could swing his head around, trying to locate the buckets of meat. He let out an angry screech for a moment, stomping a foot in the sand before Hayyel got to his feet and put a hand on Devoniath's head.
"I-It's okay! I'll show you where it is, alright? It's okay!" His dragon didn't need to see, because Devoniath was perfect and wonderful. And the Neath was so dark anyway! Who needed sight? He'd just lead him around! And so the pair set off for the food, Hayyel occasionally reaching out to make absolutely positive that the brown was going the right way.
|
|
|
|
Post by rawrmonster on Oct 1, 2013 17:24:38 GMT
Teowyn was among those gathered to stand for the clutch. She had not stood before, and she was not so sure about standing now. The eggs mildly interested her, but what peaked her interest most was the others standing with her. Many of them looked like children to her- for though most of them were only 5 or 6 turns younger than she. Teowyn in her arrogance, thought of teenagers as developmentally in the children stage. Their maturity, their bodies were still in that strange, between place were they held many of their childhood thought patterns, but she found that change in human life fascinating. At what point did a child become a man? And what is more suited for Impression? A teenager, who is still changing and would enter adulthood along with the fast maturing dragon? Or an adult man already stuck in his ways?
Teowyn rather thought a young dragon was meant to grow with their rider, and for that reason she assumed that a dragon would not pick her. She had noticed though, that many ages stood in the ranks, even young adults with a few turns on herself. Interesting... She thought and it was about this time she had noticed she missed the first egg hatch.
A grey dragon. He seemed proud, and almost indignant as he reguarded his dame. Teowyn glanced down the candidate line. Which would it choose? Could she guess? It was hard to say, since she didn't know all of the candidates really personally. Of course it's always been known as an gamble. It might be an interesting experiment.
The queen had hatched and there was a little brawl. Instead of lusting over the regal little creature, she started to wonder if aggression grows out of a dragon, queen or otherwise in truth, even though he lived in the Neath, she had had very little to do with dragons.
As candidates started to Impress, she searched their faces, hoping to see some great post-Impression change, but the most she ever saw seemed to be astonishment or concentration, as if they were privy to some private concersation- well, she supposed, that would be right.
She sighed inwardly, how long was this going to take? She was really hoping she would be able to record some of her observations right after the Hatching. Maybe interview some of the new riders.
|
|
|
|
Post by giftwrapped on Oct 7, 2013 19:40:39 GMT
And then, there was the sudden feeling of claws catching in her robes (Faranth, she hated the robes), and weight as the dragonet pulled itself up to its full height and looked at her.
She's not that interesting. For a moment, Ralley didn't understand the voice in her head. It was sudden, intrusive, not something she had been expecting. Quit thinking about her, Ralley. Think about your Liensith instead. And then Ralley understood. A dragon - she had Impressed a dragon. A curious, clever dragon who was already rifling through her thoughts. It - she - wanted to know and see everything in her mind - which wasn't good, as far as Ralley was concerned. But even as she was desperately trying to shut the prying little mind out of the secret corners of her own brain (for the good of the dragon, as much as Ralley's peace of mind), she was beginning to ease into the sudden wonder of having another part of her soul. She had thought it would be impossible, having lost Holley. She was quite sure there would never have been anyone else that could make her feel happy and complete.
For her part, Liensith seemed almost oblivious to her new rider's thoughts. They were strange human things, and she was quite sure Ralley would explain them in time. So instead of trying, she calmly soldiered on. There are things I want to know. Like... oh, everything. Let's start with the things about organs.
"...Organs." Ralley blinked for a moment.
Yes. Organs. I'm hungry. I want meat - and I know where it comes from, and I want to know how the animals we eat work from the inside. Especially if I get to eat them.
"Pretty sure you only get meat scraps this early on. But I dunno. Maybe there's liver or something." Ralley was already headed for the table where other Impressees had gone. Liensith was following behind her, though the green's attention was already wandering. She cast a snide rumble at her black sister, still on the Sands. Ralley tugged at her. "Hey, stop."
Why? I want her to know that I'm the best - and anyways, you're not telling me about organs.
"...Okay. Well, I'll see what I can do." Ralley shrugged. "You should have picked someone who cared about that sort of thing if you wanted a rider who could teach you about that.
Fine. I'll just ask the Masters, then.
"Yeah, that'll go well."
Do you have a better idea?
Ralley shrugged. The dragonet snorted quietly.
|
|
|
