02-09-2020, 10:35 AM
Dreamscar is always on the edges. Nobody puts him there anymore, it is simply where he stays, accustomed to the solitude except for the quiet murmuring of his dam, speaking nonsense to the sandstone walls around them. Her voice blends into the whisper and moan of the wind that forever twists between the canyon caves. Sometimes Dreamscar wonders if the indecipherable voices on the wind are words that have been stolen from wagging mouths, or if they are just a trick. Sometimes they sit in his ear and he knows he should understand them, but he can't. Sometimes they curl over his shoulder and make him wheel about with a snarl to find nothingness, or his dam, sleeping off the high of the strange plants she has just eaten, ignoring their acrid flavor.
Sometimes, the voices are real and true, ones he recognizes. One of them, anyway.
Ghaul's gravelly proclamations are familiar and ludicrous, but he feels a curiousity for the meaning behind them today. Captives? From his lounged position Dreamscar can see little so he eases to his feet, shaking red dust from his pelt and stepping around the bend that brings him closer to the border where a small crowd is gathering.
Fear.
He growls softly, taloned feet pressing into the hard-baked sand, making it crack. One dragon shines, the other is grisly and unkempt, bloodied. The blood no doubt belongs to the loudly color young stallion leaning broken nearby, but it is the youngest that grabs his attention. His voice is tremulous, but there is bravado in it as he pushes back against Ghaul and the shining dragon mare. The mimic's ears turn back against it, then forward, and he wonders...
He has never tried it this way before, and his brow furrows with the effort of navigation, head cocked, birdlike, he hums a trill. His magic reaches out for the colt and perhaps it makes him dizzy for a moment, if he notices it at all, a warm rush like falling headlong into feathers, a gentle burn in his belly, or perhaps it feels a different way entirely. Love them. he wraps the other end of his magic round Clarissa and Ghaul, attempting to tether it there, to connect the colt to them as he has done with his mother to himself.
This is your family. This is your home.
He cannot tell if it will work, or if it does, if it will only be temporary, if it requires him to stand there, holding the Love in place. As he is finishing, a second colt charges in, finned and bold and strange. He threatens to undo what has just been created. A sudden boldness overtakes the young stallion, unwilling to see his experiment snapped apart so quickly, and he strides forward with his strange bobbing gait, pressing himself into the fray. This colt shifts from topic to topic and the beaked beast takes the advantage of the distraction he causes. One taloned foreclaw reaches out to grasp the colt firmly- it is designed for reaching, for grasping, in a different way from Ghaul's own - the claws curl and grip without breaking the strange finned boy's skin.
"This one. Noisy." His flat amber eyes glitter hard as stone, staring into the curled horn where eyes should be on Ghaul's towering head. "Mine."
Perhaps he can eat the boy.
Sometimes, the voices are real and true, ones he recognizes. One of them, anyway.
Ghaul's gravelly proclamations are familiar and ludicrous, but he feels a curiousity for the meaning behind them today. Captives? From his lounged position Dreamscar can see little so he eases to his feet, shaking red dust from his pelt and stepping around the bend that brings him closer to the border where a small crowd is gathering.
Fear.
He growls softly, taloned feet pressing into the hard-baked sand, making it crack. One dragon shines, the other is grisly and unkempt, bloodied. The blood no doubt belongs to the loudly color young stallion leaning broken nearby, but it is the youngest that grabs his attention. His voice is tremulous, but there is bravado in it as he pushes back against Ghaul and the shining dragon mare. The mimic's ears turn back against it, then forward, and he wonders...
He has never tried it this way before, and his brow furrows with the effort of navigation, head cocked, birdlike, he hums a trill. His magic reaches out for the colt and perhaps it makes him dizzy for a moment, if he notices it at all, a warm rush like falling headlong into feathers, a gentle burn in his belly, or perhaps it feels a different way entirely. Love them. he wraps the other end of his magic round Clarissa and Ghaul, attempting to tether it there, to connect the colt to them as he has done with his mother to himself.
This is your family. This is your home.
He cannot tell if it will work, or if it does, if it will only be temporary, if it requires him to stand there, holding the Love in place. As he is finishing, a second colt charges in, finned and bold and strange. He threatens to undo what has just been created. A sudden boldness overtakes the young stallion, unwilling to see his experiment snapped apart so quickly, and he strides forward with his strange bobbing gait, pressing himself into the fray. This colt shifts from topic to topic and the beaked beast takes the advantage of the distraction he causes. One taloned foreclaw reaches out to grasp the colt firmly- it is designed for reaching, for grasping, in a different way from Ghaul's own - the claws curl and grip without breaking the strange finned boy's skin.
"This one. Noisy." His flat amber eyes glitter hard as stone, staring into the curled horn where eyes should be on Ghaul's towering head. "Mine."
Perhaps he can eat the boy.
Dreamscar
Carnage x Hippogryph