04-28-2020, 09:34 PM
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
Ghaul does not understand magic or the way the elements bend to someone’s every whim. He only knows the strength of his talons and the heat of his fire, the way he never feels cold even in bitter Pangean winter nights. He noses his eggs, rotating and adjusting them meticulously to ensure they are perfect incubated. But the sound of thunder attracts his attention. The hellbeast does not expect much more than perhaps a fallen tree when he lifts his head. But there is something there – some vague suggestion of a child. His head tilts and his small ears turn forward. Cautiously, he offers a few clicks.
This strange thing should not come too close to the nest though. He carefully steps out of the bundle of twigs and ash to slink closer to the girl. He lowers his head to her level and sniffs carefully. She smells like vanilla and nutmeg, things he does not enjoy, but they are pleasant just the same. Something about her outline is strange though. Ghaul would normally trace a new friend’s face to memorize them but something tells him to refrain from doing so this time.
“Your temperature is weak but warm, like mist,” he observes as he circles her loosely. “Why?”
His wings shuffle uneasily across his back. Something so small should not be perceived as so much of a threat, he tells himself sternly. Still, he cannot shake the feeling something is not right with her. Each time he edges a little closer to examine her, any lock of mane twitching in the wind sends him jerking back like a wary dog.
“My name is Ghaul, ruler of Silver Cove and heir of Pangea. Who are you?” he rasps as he comes to a stop in front of her.
This strange thing should not come too close to the nest though. He carefully steps out of the bundle of twigs and ash to slink closer to the girl. He lowers his head to her level and sniffs carefully. She smells like vanilla and nutmeg, things he does not enjoy, but they are pleasant just the same. Something about her outline is strange though. Ghaul would normally trace a new friend’s face to memorize them but something tells him to refrain from doing so this time.
“Your temperature is weak but warm, like mist,” he observes as he circles her loosely. “Why?”
His wings shuffle uneasily across his back. Something so small should not be perceived as so much of a threat, he tells himself sternly. Still, he cannot shake the feeling something is not right with her. Each time he edges a little closer to examine her, any lock of mane twitching in the wind sends him jerking back like a wary dog.
“My name is Ghaul, ruler of Silver Cove and heir of Pangea. Who are you?” he rasps as he comes to a stop in front of her.