12-05-2019, 10:09 PM
Fear.
Fear is nothing new to Dreamscar. It colors each step he takes in this world and Draco is simply throwing sticks into what is already a blazing wildfire. The knot of ice in his stomach, the clenching fist of his heart - he lives with his fears every single day, and when the red glow of the horned youth's eyes reaches out to him, he feels the stretch of his anxiety reach back in response, two fingers of flame twisting together. The flat amber of his eyes flashes and a low growl rumbles again in the back of his throat.
Whatever his plan, it is interrupted immediately by the wriggling of the eviscerated rabbit. The growl cuts out, black-tipped ears sweeping forward and his head tilting in a distinctly avian sort of way.
That has never happened before.
If he has noticed the segmented pill bug that lingers nearby, he ignores it, the insects always come to him. The love inducement draws them in, like pheremones, moths and crickets, beetles and pill bugs and mantids. This is as much a reason why the crows follow him as the small bodies left in his wake, and they - noisy, watchful sentries - are waiting in the bare trees and lining the cliff edges. They, too, watch the dead rabbit lope clumsily along, leaving a blood trail behind it in the sand. For half a moment, Dreamscar lets a tendril of his power drift across the creature, brushing... something, but not the consciousness that was there before. He would remember the feeling of her, but this is unfamiliar, this is something with no love for him, and he cannot grip the slippery thing that inhabits his rabbit's body so he pulls away for different prey.
Draco draws the mare's attention to the shuddering corpse and Dreamscar takes the opportunity to return the favor of boundary crossing. He croons softly as the heartsick rush of his power snakes out arrow-fast, seeking to press into the young stallion's dark chest, to make the heart skip in his breast. He rubs either side of his beak nonchalantly against the sandy edge of his perch, wiping away the dried bit of blood and hair that remains, then leans forward slightly to see what, if anything, happens between mare and stallion and rabbit, but does not leap down among the trio. He prefers the advantage of height.
Fear is nothing new to Dreamscar. It colors each step he takes in this world and Draco is simply throwing sticks into what is already a blazing wildfire. The knot of ice in his stomach, the clenching fist of his heart - he lives with his fears every single day, and when the red glow of the horned youth's eyes reaches out to him, he feels the stretch of his anxiety reach back in response, two fingers of flame twisting together. The flat amber of his eyes flashes and a low growl rumbles again in the back of his throat.
Whatever his plan, it is interrupted immediately by the wriggling of the eviscerated rabbit. The growl cuts out, black-tipped ears sweeping forward and his head tilting in a distinctly avian sort of way.
That has never happened before.
If he has noticed the segmented pill bug that lingers nearby, he ignores it, the insects always come to him. The love inducement draws them in, like pheremones, moths and crickets, beetles and pill bugs and mantids. This is as much a reason why the crows follow him as the small bodies left in his wake, and they - noisy, watchful sentries - are waiting in the bare trees and lining the cliff edges. They, too, watch the dead rabbit lope clumsily along, leaving a blood trail behind it in the sand. For half a moment, Dreamscar lets a tendril of his power drift across the creature, brushing... something, but not the consciousness that was there before. He would remember the feeling of her, but this is unfamiliar, this is something with no love for him, and he cannot grip the slippery thing that inhabits his rabbit's body so he pulls away for different prey.
Draco draws the mare's attention to the shuddering corpse and Dreamscar takes the opportunity to return the favor of boundary crossing. He croons softly as the heartsick rush of his power snakes out arrow-fast, seeking to press into the young stallion's dark chest, to make the heart skip in his breast. He rubs either side of his beak nonchalantly against the sandy edge of his perch, wiping away the dried bit of blood and hair that remains, then leans forward slightly to see what, if anything, happens between mare and stallion and rabbit, but does not leap down among the trio. He prefers the advantage of height.
Dreamscar
Carnage x Hippogryph
@[Set]