04-26-2020, 05:30 PM
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He has been so busy nesting that he nearly forgot of the changing thrones in the south. The creature who had kept Clarissa from her true home has abdicated and left someone unknown to Ghaul in his place. Now, as his wife carefully coils herself around their brood, he decides it is time to turn his attention to more political matters. The dragon gently touches his nose to each of his warm little eggs and finally to his lover’s temple before stepping back with outstretched wings. With a single flap, he is airborne. One more and he’s watching the ground shrink beneath him.
The autumn air is crisp in his lungs and he finds himself uncomfortably cold at his soaring altitude. He gives an occasional puff of fire and allows it to roll down his sides to keep him at least a little warm. The summer days in Pangea are but a distant memory, but he tries his best not to complain so much. After all, it doesn’t take too long for the ground beneath him to turn to rolling hills and Loessian bodies. But which one is Lepis, he wonders? He huffs another small plume of fire and ash as he circles the kingdom once more.
They are each entirely foreign to him so he supposes there is only one way to find out. Ghaul tucks his wings for a quick dive, stretching out his talons to prepare for a landing. He gives a brief flap of his wings to slow his descent and then he lands with a light thud on dry soil.
It has been so long since he last ventured into Loess. He had been so small, so weak in those days that he snuck along the shadows to remain hidden. How strange it is to present himself so openly to them now, he thinks. This is no time to dwell on such fond memories, however, and so he lifts his chin to give a short call for their ruler. Ghaul manages not to be demanding or impatient, but rather gentle and curious in the cry.
“Lepis, Queen of Loess,” he begins in his rasping voice. “I am Ghaul, Heir of Pangea. I think it’s time we meet and discuss the relationship between our homes.”
He offers a smile that does not come across as kind or endearing, but what expression ever does when your grin is made of pointed fangs and scar tissue lips? Still, he folds his wings and his body language manages to convey a sense of calm. There are no tricks up his sleeve for today.
The autumn air is crisp in his lungs and he finds himself uncomfortably cold at his soaring altitude. He gives an occasional puff of fire and allows it to roll down his sides to keep him at least a little warm. The summer days in Pangea are but a distant memory, but he tries his best not to complain so much. After all, it doesn’t take too long for the ground beneath him to turn to rolling hills and Loessian bodies. But which one is Lepis, he wonders? He huffs another small plume of fire and ash as he circles the kingdom once more.
They are each entirely foreign to him so he supposes there is only one way to find out. Ghaul tucks his wings for a quick dive, stretching out his talons to prepare for a landing. He gives a brief flap of his wings to slow his descent and then he lands with a light thud on dry soil.
It has been so long since he last ventured into Loess. He had been so small, so weak in those days that he snuck along the shadows to remain hidden. How strange it is to present himself so openly to them now, he thinks. This is no time to dwell on such fond memories, however, and so he lifts his chin to give a short call for their ruler. Ghaul manages not to be demanding or impatient, but rather gentle and curious in the cry.
“Lepis, Queen of Loess,” he begins in his rasping voice. “I am Ghaul, Heir of Pangea. I think it’s time we meet and discuss the relationship between our homes.”
He offers a smile that does not come across as kind or endearing, but what expression ever does when your grin is made of pointed fangs and scar tissue lips? Still, he folds his wings and his body language manages to convey a sense of calm. There are no tricks up his sleeve for today.