02-15-2021, 06:06 PM
The manticore shifts where he lay amongst the vegetation of Tephra, more than half hidden beneath the rubbery, broad leafed plants that once provided shade from the sun. Now they just create hiding places, pools of dark shadow where he can curl up and listen to the sounds of a world thrown into blind violence. There are no stars to see, no sun, no moon, only that silver iris in the sky that always seems to stare back.
At first it had only seemed like an eye. But in this unending nightmare, a world without light or edges or relief from the eerie shrieks that take the place of where birdsong used to be, he is certain it is an eye.
Something is watching them.
His leonine head lifts slightly at the sound of approaching feet, and he wonders if the little bird he had been watching is about to meet death. He had of course checked to make sure the downed thing was not his sparrow sister, but even upon discovering it wasn’t, he hadn’t left it. There was nothing he could do, of course. It was battered and broken, and just the mere sight of his feline form had driven it to a frenzied panic flapping around on the ground. But it didn’t mean he liked leaving it there. He just hadn’t the heart to end it’s suffering, not when it reminded him so much of Splendora.
He tenses, and his golden-brown eyes dark like burnt honey sharpen to pick out the silhouette that pauses above the little creature. But it’s just a girl. She’d be invisible if not for the glowing markings across her slender body, or the wings at her withers that remind him of the color of the tropical Tehphran plants. He watches her silently. She reaches down and he can hear the ragged thump-flutter of wings again, can picture how the little bird must be struggling to escape. Does she mean to harm it?
But then the whisper of her words reach his ears, and curiosity tethers him to her with an invisible rope. He rises, and though the thought of shifting to something less frightening does occur to him, it feels foolish to surrender the form that provides him so much protection in this new world. He has the head of a lion, though his mane is not yet filled out and there are a pair of horns that lift forward like weapons from the top of his skull. His body is that of a lion as well, but for the exception of two things. First, the leathery wings that lift and unfurl from his shoulders. Second, the armored scorpion tail hanging quietly behind him.
“I think more than the wing is broken.” He says as he climbs from his dark hiding place, the tone of his voice something between the rumble of a growl and purr, though there is no pleasure to be found in his stoney expression. “It hadn’t the sense to be still.” His leonine eyes settle on the bird as he comes to a stop beside the girl. “Can you heal it?” His voice is still carefully blank, his heart viciously guarded. She needn’t know how much it bothers him that the only thing he can do to help it is a swift death to end the suffering.
At first it had only seemed like an eye. But in this unending nightmare, a world without light or edges or relief from the eerie shrieks that take the place of where birdsong used to be, he is certain it is an eye.
Something is watching them.
His leonine head lifts slightly at the sound of approaching feet, and he wonders if the little bird he had been watching is about to meet death. He had of course checked to make sure the downed thing was not his sparrow sister, but even upon discovering it wasn’t, he hadn’t left it. There was nothing he could do, of course. It was battered and broken, and just the mere sight of his feline form had driven it to a frenzied panic flapping around on the ground. But it didn’t mean he liked leaving it there. He just hadn’t the heart to end it’s suffering, not when it reminded him so much of Splendora.
He tenses, and his golden-brown eyes dark like burnt honey sharpen to pick out the silhouette that pauses above the little creature. But it’s just a girl. She’d be invisible if not for the glowing markings across her slender body, or the wings at her withers that remind him of the color of the tropical Tehphran plants. He watches her silently. She reaches down and he can hear the ragged thump-flutter of wings again, can picture how the little bird must be struggling to escape. Does she mean to harm it?
But then the whisper of her words reach his ears, and curiosity tethers him to her with an invisible rope. He rises, and though the thought of shifting to something less frightening does occur to him, it feels foolish to surrender the form that provides him so much protection in this new world. He has the head of a lion, though his mane is not yet filled out and there are a pair of horns that lift forward like weapons from the top of his skull. His body is that of a lion as well, but for the exception of two things. First, the leathery wings that lift and unfurl from his shoulders. Second, the armored scorpion tail hanging quietly behind him.
“I think more than the wing is broken.” He says as he climbs from his dark hiding place, the tone of his voice something between the rumble of a growl and purr, though there is no pleasure to be found in his stoney expression. “It hadn’t the sense to be still.” His leonine eyes settle on the bird as he comes to a stop beside the girl. “Can you heal it?” His voice is still carefully blank, his heart viciously guarded. She needn’t know how much it bothers him that the only thing he can do to help it is a swift death to end the suffering.
sorren
i'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat
@[Cheri]