09-24-2019, 12:19 PM
You’re uncontrollable
and we are unlovable
and we are unlovable
The clear, hyaline lake is a joke. A contrast: a mocking image of what should be, would be, good and transparent in this world.
The frosted draconic male stands belly-deep in the winter-cold water, that is still made of melted glaciers. Honestly, he could care less about the icy cold. Ice runs through his veins, and had become visible on his body long before it reached his heart and soul. Now, now it is finally visible - the icy blue of his eyes no longer quickly change to shades of various green, the spark lost and replaced with a more solid gleam. No longer does he grin so easily and then crack a joke to prevent people seeing the teeth. No longer does he bother to try to keep a largely vegetarian diet.
Around him, little ice cubes float - the fish trapped inside are mostly already dead, frozen with a desperate look in their bulging eyes. Some are still alive, the little scaled bodies gasping for oxygen that is in the frozen water, right in front of their noses and gills - within grasping distance, but unable to be reached and used. Some ice cubes have been crushed already, whatever meat inside swallowed with the ice - a fish slushy.
Now, it’s only the ice cold eyes that stare back at him from the water’s surface. The lake is still, as if waiting for something worse to happen.
As if it knows that he can do way worse than torturing fish.
It takes time - long time, short time, who knows - before he moves again. He submerges, water added to the ice on his scales and leaving it just as quickly as the new lake monster cleaves through the lake’s cold waters.
Whereto, he wonders briefly. But he already moves to the southern end of the lake, emerging every now and then to breath, then sink again. But the river is less deep, and so he swims like any normal dragon horse when he exits Hyaline and enters the riverland.
It will be some time before his dead fish minions will have followed him here, he supposes. He figures there is still time.
For what, he doesn’t know.
He only knows that he’s bored, and that’s no longer a good sign. Who knows what can happen when he’s bored, these days?
The frosted draconic male stands belly-deep in the winter-cold water, that is still made of melted glaciers. Honestly, he could care less about the icy cold. Ice runs through his veins, and had become visible on his body long before it reached his heart and soul. Now, now it is finally visible - the icy blue of his eyes no longer quickly change to shades of various green, the spark lost and replaced with a more solid gleam. No longer does he grin so easily and then crack a joke to prevent people seeing the teeth. No longer does he bother to try to keep a largely vegetarian diet.
Around him, little ice cubes float - the fish trapped inside are mostly already dead, frozen with a desperate look in their bulging eyes. Some are still alive, the little scaled bodies gasping for oxygen that is in the frozen water, right in front of their noses and gills - within grasping distance, but unable to be reached and used. Some ice cubes have been crushed already, whatever meat inside swallowed with the ice - a fish slushy.
Now, it’s only the ice cold eyes that stare back at him from the water’s surface. The lake is still, as if waiting for something worse to happen.
As if it knows that he can do way worse than torturing fish.
It takes time - long time, short time, who knows - before he moves again. He submerges, water added to the ice on his scales and leaving it just as quickly as the new lake monster cleaves through the lake’s cold waters.
Whereto, he wonders briefly. But he already moves to the southern end of the lake, emerging every now and then to breath, then sink again. But the river is less deep, and so he swims like any normal dragon horse when he exits Hyaline and enters the riverland.
It will be some time before his dead fish minions will have followed him here, he supposes. He figures there is still time.
For what, he doesn’t know.
He only knows that he’s bored, and that’s no longer a good sign. Who knows what can happen when he’s bored, these days?
and I don’t want you to think that I care
I never would, I never could again
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Bruja]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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