"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
10-17-2019, 03:30 PM (This post was last modified: 10-17-2019, 03:30 PM by Darkling.)
Darkling
His life thus far has been a simple one. One filled with days spent doing exactly as he pleased, largely ignoring what others did unless it suited him. No doubt his parents found him particularly burdensome, but he hadn’t the forethought to care overly much. Not when there were far more interesting things to do.
Things like meet strange and fascinating young women in dark forests.
Still, these are stories he keeps to himself. Not that anyone beyond his parents would be terribly interested. And likely, they didn’t truly wish to know what he was actually up to. Certainly the majority of the time, he wasn’t even entirely sure. Needless to say, it was often of the troublemaking variety.
Now though? He is less than pleased by how events had unfolded. Truthfully, he probably shouldn’t care so much, but that kind of logic has no place in Darkling’s young mind. Fortunately he is not one to hold grudges, and ultimately he finds himself more intrigued than annoyed.
Which is also very annoying.
He’d been following him. He’s quite certain of his success, though no doubt he has been far less successful than he might have wished. After all, he can’t see. How could he possibly know he was being followed?
This is the logic that sustains him as he creeps through the shadows he unconciously tucked so closely around him, narrowed gaze fixed on his newest half-sibling. The one he still hasn’t entirely decided whether or not he really cares for.
you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation I think that I could die for this revelation
do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?
Ghaul enjoys hunting the creatures who are used to being the hunters best. He chews on snakes simply because they lash out and desperately try to sink their fangs into his scales, only to find they are powerless against his armor. They smell like his little treasure girl, the child he snatched from her parents and now keeps safe here in Pangea. But these are weak imitations who wither and die in seconds between his teeth. Still, they are harder to hunt because their heat radiates so very little and he loves the challenge they provide.
He doesn’t even notice his brother trailing along behind him as he watches his target slither over old fish bones and between dried up coral. If Ghaul had eyes to admire the sandstone canyons, he might enjoy this area most of all. The way it twists and bends with the red and yellows accentuating every turn are beautiful in the dying light of the day. But for him, there is only ever the hunt – for meat, for blood, for that unmistakable tremble of death claiming her prize. That is, until he hears the little hooves stepping behind him.
The fledgling freezes, one talon still in midair as a small ear swivels to listen carefully. His smile full of crooked crocodile teeth fades into a snarl as he turns his head. Though he has no eyes with which to stare, it is evident he is watching Darkling as he slowly turns to face his sibling. Ghaul’s wings spread wide in an ancient threat display and he whips his thin tail angrily. An opponent? A friend? Some awful wretch come to take his Gospel from him and back to her awful parents? He snaps his teeth and steps forward.
The shadows do little to deter him as he lowers his head and sniffs curiously at the air. The bright yellow outline of his brother is hardly difficult to distinguish from the pale blue of the sandstone walls behind him.
“I am Ghaul,” he says bluntly, giving his head a little upward nod in hesitant greeting. “You are who?”
He tilts his head and anxiously drags the talons of his left foreleg against the stone, leaving deep claw marks in their wake.
ghaul
@[Darkling] verdict: maybe not eat? but maybe eat.
11-05-2019, 05:06 PM (This post was last modified: 11-19-2019, 11:42 PM by Darkling.)
Darkling
Whether fortunate or unfortunate, young Darkling hasn’t the sense to be intimidated by anything, much less the idle threats of his own younger sibling. Rather than retreat when he realizes the little half-beast had discovered his presence, he merely huffs irritably, ears flattening briefly. Of course, as is the way of fickle-natured boys like Darkling, his irritation lasts only long enough to silently mimic is brother as he announces his name and demands to know who he is.
In fact, that small, petty act serves only to bring out the impishness that never quite seems to disappear. Suddenly, a wide grin stretches his lips as he drops his head low, tail twitching, flicking with intermittent sharpness at his golden haunches. At his side, the shadows begin to bulge and grow, writhing almost painfully until a shape begins to coalesce. A shape that vaguely resembles the horn-eyed dragon. With a slow deliberacy, the somewhat shoddily crafted replica (he’s still learning, after all. Close enough) reaches up to drag claw marks alongside the first set.
“Are you?” he asks quizzically, his voice almost lyrical. “Are you Ghaul?”
To the casual bystander, it may appear entirely nonsensical. Indeed, it likely seems just as nonsensical to Ghaul. But that’s something Darkling hardly bothers to concern himself with. To his mind, it’s a cleverly hilarious joke. The fact that it is likely neither clever nor hilarious is not something he concerns himself with either.
Smirking, he turns to the shadow creature and introduces himself with a barely suppressed snicker. “You are Ghaul. I am Darkling. Hello.”
you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation I think that I could die for this revelation
do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?
He watches as the blur of his brother moves, his ears flattening and his tail twitching. The boy is unable to see Darkling’s hard work as the shadows slowly writhe into some intelligent shape that mimics the fledgling. There is an odd sound to it, though, and he tilts his head curiously as he listens to its dark claws dragging next to the marks he left moments ago. Yet, when he tries to turn his head to observe the source of the noise, there is only the same blur of the wall behind the clone. A strange growl forms in his throat and he finds himself drawing a slow breath through his nostrils. With a quick exhale, he sends a small plume of fire in the shadow’s direction in the hopes of catching the strange thing on fire. He can always see things better when they’re burning, he thinks.
“I am Ghaul!” he insists, small teeth gnashing in annoyance. The small boy takes a step forward and sniffs at his brother curiously, now inches from his shadow copy without realizing it. The strange thing gives off no warmth and no scent by which he may track it.
“Darkling. You are…” he trails off, lacking the words to describe his emotions properly for now. Instead, he makes a disgusting hacking noise as though he has phlegm stuck in his throat. But as is customary, he closes the distance between them and traces his brother’s face – or what he can reach of it – with his nose so that he might memorize his appearance. This one smells a bit like their father but he isn’t sure if that’s because of where they live or if there is in fact some relation there. Were he not blind as could be, he would see their resemblance rather easily.
Satisfied, he retracts his head and offers a snort, much as a dog does once it is satisfied by someone’s scent and wishes to deescalate a situation. His wings finally fold across his small back as he seems to consider Darkling for a moment, though it’s hard to tell without any eyes narrowed in suspicion or observation.
“We are.. friends?” he finally asks with another tilt of his small head.
ghaul
@[Darkling] is now his friend whom he may nibble on while darkling is asleep
Of course it’s impossible for Darkling to know shadows give no traceable signature to the blind. With the hastily crafted creature’s lack of scent or sound, it may as well be entirely non-existent to his confused sibling. Except, of course, for the fact that the claws that had swiped stone are as real and dangerous as Ghaul’s own.
It’s likely fortunate then, that Darkling hasn’t yet the sense to realize just how dangerous a weapon he could craft from mere thought. To this point, his nature had been nothing more than that of a flighty and fickle boy, and no clever or conniving mentors had as yet risen to take advantage of his unshapen future.
Instead, as Ghaul twists his head, sightlessly trying to determine what was happening, Darkling snickers, the shadowy twin twisting around to mimic Ghaul’s strange movements. When his brother presses closer however, Darkling snorts in suddenly perplexed annoyance, dark eyes nearly crossing as he tries to keep the half-monster in his sights. Ears flipping back, he leans back even as Ghaul leans in, neck wrinkling as his chin presses uncomfortably downwards.
The whuffles of Ghaul’s breath tickle his face, and he snorts again. Moments later, apparently satisfied with his investigation, Ghaul retreats, leaving Darkling pressed irritably against the rock as he eyeballs his brother with open suspicion.
Tail flicking against his haunches, Darkling snorts again. In his distraction, the shadow Ghaul had stopped mimicking it’s inspiration, but as he resettles, the creature creeps forward, placing itself ostensibly nearby. The uncertainly spoken words however, set Darkling aback, and he narrows his eyes at his draconic sibling.
After a brief moment of consideration, a faint, decidedly devilish gleam enters Darkling’s eye. “Play a game with me, and maybe we’ll see.”
you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation I think that I could die for this revelation
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
His small ears turn forward to catch the sound of Darkling’s laughter. The sound is unkind and that amorphous anger bubbles up in his chest, untrained and unrefined as of yet. Why does his friend laugh when he has said nothing funny? He grows self-conscious and he considers breathing fire across his brother’s face. But his flames are still small and hardly more than an intimidation tactic for the time being. He is easily dodged and extinguished at this age.
His new friend even tries to resist further investigation that may illuminate some secret about him, but Ghaul has decided to tolerate it for now. There is promise in this bond and he intends to nurture that little seed of fate between them. Play a game, Darkling demands, and the blind child chitters quietly to himself in thought as his wings shuffle uneasily against his back. But if he participates, maybe Darkling will stop resisting this friendship? A dilemma, to be sure.
“What kind of game?” he finally replies, talons clicking nervously against the stone and dirt beneath him. He remains blissfully unaware of the little shadow drake mimicking him. Still, his tail flicks from side to side. “Everyone else wanted to be friends.”
He pouts, though it’s to be expected at his young age. Only Greta had acted in any sort of way that displeased him but she quickly settled and became as enjoyable as most. It boggles his mind that Darkling isn’t equally eager to simply comply with Ghaul’s wishes the moment he demands it. Perhaps this friendship will be that much more valuable to him, then? He remains hopeful of this but he does not speak on it. Instead, he simply continues observing Darkling for a while longer.
Of the many things Darkling has not yet come to understand in his youth, friendship is perhaps one of the more perplexing. Unlike most children his age, he had not felt a particularly strong need to seek the approval of peers in the form of friendship. And so Ghaul’s questioning statement is as equally foreign to Darkling as his refusal is to Ghaul.
Without a solid understanding for the parameters of this supposed friendship, he is not at all certain what it might entail. In a way, his insistence that they play a game is his rather inept way of determining those boundaries.
Of course, Darkling had always had trouble boundaries, so perhaps it doesn’t matter anyway.
In the same way that Ghaul demonstrates his uncertainty in the clicking of his nails and shuffling of his wings, Darkling unconsciously displays the same in the unnecessary flicking of his tail. Ghaul’s words however, draw a wary expression to Darkling’s features, and he eyes his brother curiously, wondering just what sort of “friends” he had been making.
Unable to help himself, Darkling almost immediately snips in return, “Are they truly your friends then?” He pauses briefly, gaze narrowing speculatively. “Or did they just tell you that as a way to control you?”
In those few words is perhaps the real reason Darkling has no true concept of friendship. After all, such a thing requires a certain amount of trust he struggles to summon. Still, he doesn’t truly expect an answer to his riddles.
Suddenly, a grin tugging at his lips, he continues, “A fun game, I promise.”
you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation I think that I could die for this revelation
