GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He hovers over Pangea, watching all the little blurs go about their day. They seem so distant and insignificant from way up here. Most importantly, he watches his young ward as he wanders in his attempts to sneak around the kingdom that Ghaul knows so well. Even if he could not track the boy on his own, the aliens would hunt him in a heartbeat. Maybe less. But the colt is heading for the border where someone he does not recognize is waiting patiently. His lip curls up and he considers diving for them.
But Ripley and Nostromo are already on them, looming over Alcinder protectively. Should he still approach, then? Draco’s outline intrigues him enough to tuck his wings to his side so that he plummets down toward them. Their shapes grow clearer and larger until he stretches out his talons and spreads his wings once more to slow his descent until he lands with a light thud. The leathery appendages remain away from his sides as he offers a brief series of clicks from the base of his throat to the aliens. He had learned from Fiorina that they shared a few noises.
Slowly, his wings tuck against his sides and he leisurely strides closer to the guest. Draco explains that this one is not welcomed here and Ghaul’s small ears perk at the words. A faster cluster of clicks emanate excitedly from him and he glances at the hunting pair, shivering at the thought of a kill alongside them. What if they accidentally bit each other in their frenzy? He grins.
“Steal? From us? A grave mistake,” he laughs, the sound like thunder that shakes the earth. “Or just an overgrown child, come to play?”
He circles Ilma, and maybe his horns glimmer a little brighter as he surveys her. His smile is made from crooked fangs as he takes his place beside Alcinder, towering over the boy and his apparent friend.
“Alcinder, our year together has barely begun. How can I be a good father if you won’t be a good son?” he hisses, still grinning as he leans his head down so the boy is eye level with the base of Ghaul’s horns.
But Ripley and Nostromo are already on them, looming over Alcinder protectively. Should he still approach, then? Draco’s outline intrigues him enough to tuck his wings to his side so that he plummets down toward them. Their shapes grow clearer and larger until he stretches out his talons and spreads his wings once more to slow his descent until he lands with a light thud. The leathery appendages remain away from his sides as he offers a brief series of clicks from the base of his throat to the aliens. He had learned from Fiorina that they shared a few noises.
Slowly, his wings tuck against his sides and he leisurely strides closer to the guest. Draco explains that this one is not welcomed here and Ghaul’s small ears perk at the words. A faster cluster of clicks emanate excitedly from him and he glances at the hunting pair, shivering at the thought of a kill alongside them. What if they accidentally bit each other in their frenzy? He grins.
“Steal? From us? A grave mistake,” he laughs, the sound like thunder that shakes the earth. “Or just an overgrown child, come to play?”
He circles Ilma, and maybe his horns glimmer a little brighter as he surveys her. His smile is made from crooked fangs as he takes his place beside Alcinder, towering over the boy and his apparent friend.
“Alcinder, our year together has barely begun. How can I be a good father if you won’t be a good son?” he hisses, still grinning as he leans his head down so the boy is eye level with the base of Ghaul’s horns.