03-17-2020, 12:38 PM
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He finds the north more tolerable in his nest of soot and ash, which he occasionally drags fallen branches into so that he might continue his destruction in earnest. The embers soothe him to sleep but they have since grown cold, leaving him to search for some other source of entertainment before he gathers more kindling. Ghaul pauses mid step like a hound on the trail of a fox when the scent of feathers finds him, one talon flexed open as he waits. The memory of the angel of Loess descending on him draws his attention upward and he lowers himself to the ground as she lands. He could pounce still, he knows, and rip the thin skin of her throat, but he remains poised.
She is entirely feathers and he traces the points of his teeth with a black tongue at the realization. But then she is changing and he responds with a snort as he stands upright at last. Now her meat will taste like every other creature he comes across, he thinks with a brief frown. The stars across his face dim with disinterest until she speaks, making him tilt his head curiously. Why would he not chase the prey animals?
“My mother is dead. Sacrificed,” he explains as she closes what little space remains between them. He doesn’t seem to take offense nor does he flinch when she snaps her blunt teeth at him, but he does snatch a loose feather from the air like a viper catching a songbird. Ghaul idly chews on the feather for a moment as the static of it tickles his gums, but he ultimately chooses to spit it onto the ground. “Do you live here in Nerine?”
His head turns as a single talon extends to flip the feather this way and that, lamenting that he did not strike when he had the chance. Perhaps an albatross will come near enough to this shore that he might pluck it from the air, he thinks. They are large enough to warrant the patience and effort required to catch them. Or maybe Brine will come home and he can take her wings? He chitters quietly as he considers his options, still toying with her lost feather.
She is entirely feathers and he traces the points of his teeth with a black tongue at the realization. But then she is changing and he responds with a snort as he stands upright at last. Now her meat will taste like every other creature he comes across, he thinks with a brief frown. The stars across his face dim with disinterest until she speaks, making him tilt his head curiously. Why would he not chase the prey animals?
“My mother is dead. Sacrificed,” he explains as she closes what little space remains between them. He doesn’t seem to take offense nor does he flinch when she snaps her blunt teeth at him, but he does snatch a loose feather from the air like a viper catching a songbird. Ghaul idly chews on the feather for a moment as the static of it tickles his gums, but he ultimately chooses to spit it onto the ground. “Do you live here in Nerine?”
His head turns as a single talon extends to flip the feather this way and that, lamenting that he did not strike when he had the chance. Perhaps an albatross will come near enough to this shore that he might pluck it from the air, he thinks. They are large enough to warrant the patience and effort required to catch them. Or maybe Brine will come home and he can take her wings? He chitters quietly as he considers his options, still toying with her lost feather.