01-16-2020, 06:20 PM
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He was born small and sickly, all ribs and feral uneasiness as he skittered about Beqanna. He feasted on rodents and abandoned carcasses until he grew strong enough to take on larger prey. Now, his scales have hardened into armor that will know no defeat and his baby teeth have been traded in for rows of curved, crooked fangs. Ghaul’s talons leave deep tracks in the spring mud as he travels to the river in the middle of a heavy rain.
There is a restless ache building between his ribs that he tries his best to ignore. He knows it is because Clarissa is not with him as often as he would like, but he gives her all the space she needs. The young monster has taken to needless hunts in an effort to sate his mood but to no avail. The throbbing emptiness that she leaves remains all the same. He snorts and a few small embers flitter from his nostrils before dying on the cold wind.
His wings fold over his back in a pitiful attempt to shield him from some of the downpour. Ghaul has decided he hates spring but there is little he can do about it other than sulk. A slow, sad croon escapes his throat as he comes to a stop beside the river. He likes to watch the blue rippling and flowing that marks the water’s path, even if he can’t see it quite as well as others. The tall grasses reach up to his broad shoulders where they rustle against his body in the breeze. The world is bright and green and bursting with life, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
His thin tail flicks from side to side before finally settling into a soft stillness. For now, he will count the hours until one of his few friends come back to him.
There is a restless ache building between his ribs that he tries his best to ignore. He knows it is because Clarissa is not with him as often as he would like, but he gives her all the space she needs. The young monster has taken to needless hunts in an effort to sate his mood but to no avail. The throbbing emptiness that she leaves remains all the same. He snorts and a few small embers flitter from his nostrils before dying on the cold wind.
His wings fold over his back in a pitiful attempt to shield him from some of the downpour. Ghaul has decided he hates spring but there is little he can do about it other than sulk. A slow, sad croon escapes his throat as he comes to a stop beside the river. He likes to watch the blue rippling and flowing that marks the water’s path, even if he can’t see it quite as well as others. The tall grasses reach up to his broad shoulders where they rustle against his body in the breeze. The world is bright and green and bursting with life, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
His thin tail flicks from side to side before finally settling into a soft stillness. For now, he will count the hours until one of his few friends come back to him.