01-27-2020, 03:18 PM
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He drifts in the open skies on warm air currents, his leathery wings spread wide with his talons tucked close to his chest. A blur of red marks someone crossing the border into Pangea and he follows from a great distance above them. Is this one Brine, he wonders? He can’t quite tell from here and so he circles them for a while like a vulture eyeing a pitiful creature nearing death.
When he had stolen her from Nerine, it had been her feathers that drew him. The memory of another’s wing crushed between his teeth is fresh and he is eager to learn if all of them taste so sweet. His vile tongue runs along the pointed edges of his teeth before he tucks his wings in halfway to begin his descent. Ghaul’s forelegs reach forward for the ground rushing up to meet him and he lands with a heavy thud near the stolen stranger. Brine’s scent confirms her identity and he feels a wide grin smear across his face.
His talons claw into the earth with each step, leaving a clear trail behind him as he closes the gap between them. Personal space has always meant so very little to him and so he is quick to let his sides press against hers. Her body is smooth and unscaled, as he had guessed, and some secret piece of him is disgruntled at the discovery. But her wings are soft and he runs his lips along them with a chuckle of delight. He can’t see her, but he thinks she is beautiful. It is a dangerous thing, to be beautiful in Pangea.
“I am Ghaul, prince of Pangea. You are mine for one year,” he explains in his rasping voice. The drake traces his nose from her shoulders and up her neck until he reaches the curve of her jaw. He memorizes her features and croons softly against her ear. But he wants to draw this out, to savor every moment with a captive plaything. Jenova had died too quickly to really relish the flavors of her death and such mistakes cannot be tolerated now that he has matured.
When he had stolen her from Nerine, it had been her feathers that drew him. The memory of another’s wing crushed between his teeth is fresh and he is eager to learn if all of them taste so sweet. His vile tongue runs along the pointed edges of his teeth before he tucks his wings in halfway to begin his descent. Ghaul’s forelegs reach forward for the ground rushing up to meet him and he lands with a heavy thud near the stolen stranger. Brine’s scent confirms her identity and he feels a wide grin smear across his face.
His talons claw into the earth with each step, leaving a clear trail behind him as he closes the gap between them. Personal space has always meant so very little to him and so he is quick to let his sides press against hers. Her body is smooth and unscaled, as he had guessed, and some secret piece of him is disgruntled at the discovery. But her wings are soft and he runs his lips along them with a chuckle of delight. He can’t see her, but he thinks she is beautiful. It is a dangerous thing, to be beautiful in Pangea.
“I am Ghaul, prince of Pangea. You are mine for one year,” he explains in his rasping voice. The drake traces his nose from her shoulders and up her neck until he reaches the curve of her jaw. He memorizes her features and croons softly against her ear. But he wants to draw this out, to savor every moment with a captive plaything. Jenova had died too quickly to really relish the flavors of her death and such mistakes cannot be tolerated now that he has matured.