12-07-2017, 09:12 PM
The needle points of her fangs loom above the skin of his neck, threatening to come down on him, to draw blood. Castile’s pulse quickens, pounding in his ears, roaring. It’s nearly the only thing he can hear as his mismatched eyes dart back and forth uncertainly. This is a baptism by fire. The help he anticipated has slipped through his fingers. It receded the moment she inched toward his neck with her mouth agape. He could’ve avoided this; there was time to run, but he rooted himself here as though his options were limited.
Karaugh had shifted so easily, so thoughtlessly. That’s what he wants for himself. It would make father proud, surely, but the ability has escaped him for years. It had seemed almost a lost cause until now.
Until her.
Her fangs are pressing against him, edging closer to his jugular. Her eyes are starved, her own heart beating with a sick thrill. Admittedly, Castile is afraid but he conceals it behind the growling rumbles that vibrate through his body. He doesn’t know what is to happen, or if this is the conclusion of his life’s adventure. An image of spilled blood flashes across his vision and startles him just as Karaugh bites down.
Everything turns white.
It’s like poison in his blood, his veins scalding as her saliva pours itself into him. It branches to his legs, his wings, his heart, lungs, and mind.
Fuck, his mind.
The poison almost seems to bite deeper into the crevices of his thoughts, drawing them out like a rabbit from its hole. A deep groan breaks the painful silence between them as she tastes him, and he wonders if she enjoys it as much as he hates it.
More blood dribbles into her mouth while more pain flashes through him, blinding him.
And then there’s fire.
It doesn’t pour out of him, but it douses his soul, soaking him in an inferno. It surfaces as hardened scales and spines, as talons and jagged teeth. Bones crack, muscles tear, and skin splits. Blood seeps from between scales as his body lengthens, his wings reaching to their full expanse. Castile quickly jerks from Karaugh’s bite, but his elongated muzzle slithers toward her, his teeth slapping shut next to her face. His talons churn the soil underneath his armored body as he inches away from her, his muscles rippling with every movement. When their eyes meet, it’s as though his reality is falling farther and farther back into the dark recesses of his mind. A blood-curdling roar slices through the air and echoes across the open meadow for miles, branching in every direction. With a final shift in movement, Castile first looks across the grassland, then to Karaugh, no longer seeing a mare, but instead prey.
Karaugh had shifted so easily, so thoughtlessly. That’s what he wants for himself. It would make father proud, surely, but the ability has escaped him for years. It had seemed almost a lost cause until now.
Until her.
Her fangs are pressing against him, edging closer to his jugular. Her eyes are starved, her own heart beating with a sick thrill. Admittedly, Castile is afraid but he conceals it behind the growling rumbles that vibrate through his body. He doesn’t know what is to happen, or if this is the conclusion of his life’s adventure. An image of spilled blood flashes across his vision and startles him just as Karaugh bites down.
Everything turns white.
It’s like poison in his blood, his veins scalding as her saliva pours itself into him. It branches to his legs, his wings, his heart, lungs, and mind.
Fuck, his mind.
The poison almost seems to bite deeper into the crevices of his thoughts, drawing them out like a rabbit from its hole. A deep groan breaks the painful silence between them as she tastes him, and he wonders if she enjoys it as much as he hates it.
More blood dribbles into her mouth while more pain flashes through him, blinding him.
And then there’s fire.
It doesn’t pour out of him, but it douses his soul, soaking him in an inferno. It surfaces as hardened scales and spines, as talons and jagged teeth. Bones crack, muscles tear, and skin splits. Blood seeps from between scales as his body lengthens, his wings reaching to their full expanse. Castile quickly jerks from Karaugh’s bite, but his elongated muzzle slithers toward her, his teeth slapping shut next to her face. His talons churn the soil underneath his armored body as he inches away from her, his muscles rippling with every movement. When their eyes meet, it’s as though his reality is falling farther and farther back into the dark recesses of his mind. A blood-curdling roar slices through the air and echoes across the open meadow for miles, branching in every direction. With a final shift in movement, Castile first looks across the grassland, then to Karaugh, no longer seeing a mare, but instead prey.
[so, I went ahead with him shifting into a dragon for the very first time and feeling his mind sort of open up because of their new telepathic bond
]