do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?
This one does not squirm away or flinch at the sight of him, he notes with keen interest as he draws closer. Perhaps she is confused by him but she does not recoil from his attention like others have in the past. In fact, she doesn’t say one unkind thing. There is something like a purr in his throat when she begins to reply, even as she’s tumbling over her words and trying to piece them together. Is she confused, he wonders? Or will she need to be named as Gospel had done for him? He thinks he would have to find some sound that suited her.
Greta, she says, and his small ears perk up to catch the sound. This one is called Greta. He nods, slowly, and repeats the name under his breath like he might lose the memory in a second. Then she affirms that, yes, she is here now. The little drake seems to perk up and gibbers happily, a throaty noise framed by his smile while his legs dance in place.
“Here?” he repeats, tilting his head like a small bird before glancing around. This is the only place that matters. It is the kindling for a great fire, he thinks. When he reaches maturity, it will burn all other nations to the ground. “Here is the beginning. Here is Pangea.”
And his smile grows, teeth clicking together excitedly as he edges closer, just barely touching his side to hers. His scales are rough but they are warm from the fire that churns within him. The child even flares a wing over her, sharing in his little makeshift blanket with her. He decides he will not eat her. Instead, maybe this one can be a friend. Clarissa had told him he should make many of these friends but there are so few that he finds himself drawn to. Or, likewise, drawn to him. Others hesitate and find him vile. He cannot see the look of repulsion on their faces but he can hear it in their voices when they speak so lowly of him.
“Here, fire will only cleanse. Others, it will consume.”
The words make sense to him and so he does not think to expand any further for her. Ghaul does not know that others do not worship the wild or the feral chaos that drives him. In fact, it has never occurred to him at all. How could they enjoy tranquility like the midnight air around them when it only makes him feel so hollow inside? How could they worship at an altar of loneliness and quiet when destruction roars for them?
He sighs contently now with someone to share in his warmth as he listens to the crickets chirping happily.
@[greta] theyre officially friends now.