04-29-2020, 04:39 PM
i feel
a bad moon rising
a bad moon rising
There is something not quite right about Ghaul.
Lepis knows the emotion his presence elicits in her chest, and it is not one she is fond of. It is easy to forget in their civilized world that there are dangers beyond the occasional stray bear or wolf. Ghaul reminds her of this, as does the surge of adrenaline that comes with facing down a hunter. Lepis had been able to ignore it until he violated the space she’d put between them, and as he circles, her movements become increasingly more agitated. A stamp of hooves, resettling feathers, twitching tail. Pteron had not learned his patient, polite calm from his mother, that much seems clear.
Her false idol? Castile. Clarissa must then be the white dragon that Lepis had seen him with from time to time. Ghaul’s mate, Lepis knows. It would take another monster to love the creature in front of her, Lepis thinks as the horned beast finally pulls away, or even to find him attractive. There’s nothing at all appealing about the Heir of Pangea that Lepis can see, except perhaps that were his head not exaggerated by those nauseating horns, he would be a nice height. Lepis’ type is decidedly more equine, and preferably with far less dried blood around the edges of their mouth.
Her heart has not slowed its pace, not even when he’d pulled away, but her face has retained its pleasant smile until this moment. Not that Ghaul could even see it. Her action has revealed her discomfort, but she does not let it into her voice when she answers.
“Some things are more important than an uninterrupted succession.” Lepis tells him. She does not add that she was told by Castile’s chosen messenger that she was to rule as Regent, or that Castile has lost his mind, likely gone as feral as Ghaul. (That is the thing about dragons, she thinks, they are predictably unpredictable at the very worst of times.
"I have unfinished business with a former lover." She tells him. "I need a way to trap him, and keep him until he faces justice, and ruling a kingdom gives me that power." Lepis considers adding trust to her words, not enough to seem suspicious, but just enough to cause him to sway in her favor. She doesn’t, in the end. He’s dragonkind, and monsters do not always react to her emotions the way that equines do.
"However, your kingdom’s steals have made it difficult to pursue my other goals of late." Her brows raise, and there is a bit of disappointment in her voice for those unable to see. It is past time they stopped, her tone implies; she is growing tired of them. Not that she’d ever enjoyed them in the first place, of course; there is a reason she’d ended her people’s part in it as soon as she’d taken the throne. Well, tried to end it, anyway. Castile had denied her, untrustworthy as monsters so often are.
She watches Ghaul in front of her, blue-grey eyes darting occasionally to the brightly colored talons, the ridge of thick scales along his neck, and the odd protrusions at the end of his leathery wings. Perhaps Clarissa is blind too, she thinks.
Lepis knows the emotion his presence elicits in her chest, and it is not one she is fond of. It is easy to forget in their civilized world that there are dangers beyond the occasional stray bear or wolf. Ghaul reminds her of this, as does the surge of adrenaline that comes with facing down a hunter. Lepis had been able to ignore it until he violated the space she’d put between them, and as he circles, her movements become increasingly more agitated. A stamp of hooves, resettling feathers, twitching tail. Pteron had not learned his patient, polite calm from his mother, that much seems clear.
Her false idol? Castile. Clarissa must then be the white dragon that Lepis had seen him with from time to time. Ghaul’s mate, Lepis knows. It would take another monster to love the creature in front of her, Lepis thinks as the horned beast finally pulls away, or even to find him attractive. There’s nothing at all appealing about the Heir of Pangea that Lepis can see, except perhaps that were his head not exaggerated by those nauseating horns, he would be a nice height. Lepis’ type is decidedly more equine, and preferably with far less dried blood around the edges of their mouth.
Her heart has not slowed its pace, not even when he’d pulled away, but her face has retained its pleasant smile until this moment. Not that Ghaul could even see it. Her action has revealed her discomfort, but she does not let it into her voice when she answers.
“Some things are more important than an uninterrupted succession.” Lepis tells him. She does not add that she was told by Castile’s chosen messenger that she was to rule as Regent, or that Castile has lost his mind, likely gone as feral as Ghaul. (That is the thing about dragons, she thinks, they are predictably unpredictable at the very worst of times.
"I have unfinished business with a former lover." She tells him. "I need a way to trap him, and keep him until he faces justice, and ruling a kingdom gives me that power." Lepis considers adding trust to her words, not enough to seem suspicious, but just enough to cause him to sway in her favor. She doesn’t, in the end. He’s dragonkind, and monsters do not always react to her emotions the way that equines do.
"However, your kingdom’s steals have made it difficult to pursue my other goals of late." Her brows raise, and there is a bit of disappointment in her voice for those unable to see. It is past time they stopped, her tone implies; she is growing tired of them. Not that she’d ever enjoyed them in the first place, of course; there is a reason she’d ended her people’s part in it as soon as she’d taken the throne. Well, tried to end it, anyway. Castile had denied her, untrustworthy as monsters so often are.
She watches Ghaul in front of her, blue-grey eyes darting occasionally to the brightly colored talons, the ridge of thick scales along his neck, and the odd protrusions at the end of his leathery wings. Perhaps Clarissa is blind too, she thinks.
@[Ghaul]
