Oh, these little eyes || Scorch, Drustan, Any

[Drustan]

Content. At first his little bubble had been quite comfortable: it was warm and safe. He had been content like that, his consciousness barely registering those key elements of security. However, before too long, his little bubble had become constricting. He had grown, and while the bubble expanded, it never grew large enough to give him more space. In an unconscious haze he moves, kicking out against the sides of his bubble, but it only results in moving towards an even tighter place. He wants out.

Cold. It is the first thing in this much bigger world that he experiences, and it hits him hard. The shock makes him draw in his first breath, only to find his nostrils covered by some kind of membrane. It does not only cover him there, his entire fluffy coat is all slimy and wet. Instinctively he snorts, trying to clean the stuff out of his nose, but it is a gentle touch that effectively gets rid of it.

Affection. Blinking, his unfocussed gaze (the bright light hurts his eyes) moves to meet a dark face. Softly he whinnies at her, his little neck expanding to ghost after her touch. She does not hesitate to give him what he wants, and like any child, he contently leans into his mother’s touch. His head rests against her lips, unaware of the bumps on his head that she’d found, and how remarkable they are.

Ache. He does not know what the unfamiliar, aching feeling in his stomach is, nor does he know what it is caused by. It stands in contrast to how comfortable he’d felt before, but it is strong enough to drive him too his feet. Cramped from the time in his bubble, they refuse to cooperate. His first attempt to stand is clumsy, he crashes down back against his mother and the ground the moment he manages to get his weight lifted off the ground. The ‘oof’ sound leaving his lips is soft, and to him distant, he does not yet link the sound to his own voice. His ears twitch, and move around, in an attempt to determine where it had come from. It definitely isn’t the sweet voice that belongs to the dark face he’d seen the moment he had opened his bright blue eyes.

Satisfied. His next attempt to stand goes much smoother. Though unsteady, he manages to keep his dark body up in the air. Instinctively he presses close against his dam, small muzzle affectionate against the round curve of her belly, before pushing further underneath her. He takes what his instincts tell him. The creamy taste is more than anything he could have ever imagined to taste. His eager – and demanding – drinking has him full, and content, in no time.

Drustan.

if the sky could dream, it would dream of dragons

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<3

@[Vi]
@[Scorch]
@[Hestoni]