06-12-2020, 01:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-16-2020, 03:56 PM by Wysteria Fairy.)
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
He is terrified of his father. When the cruel king speaks of fire and death, he can see the way it delights him despite the way it sends the children cowering from him. Even when Cirilla tries to inspire a sense of peace within Ghaul, it finds no place to take root. Yadigar wonders if that is because peace, for a monster, is the slaughter. The hunt relaxes him in the way sunbathing might delight his offspring. How long will it be until a simple kill is no longer enough to sate him, though?
If no one is strong enough to rise up against him then he will become that opponent. He takes a deep breath and begins his ascent up the mountain, chin held high and wings tucked close to his back. Even if people shrink back from him and seem repulsed to see the son of an awful king, he will protect them from the fire. His small claws grip the dirt as he carefully zig-zags his way around boulders or crevices. When the dirt turns to snow, he breathes little puffs of fire to warm himself and keep his shivering to a minimum.
He could fly, he supposes, but the winds are too harsh to allow him any control over his flight. His thin tail swings back and forth to help him keep his balance when he nearly stumbles on loose rocks. When he nears the top, it is midday and he begins to notice how thin the air is. His fire grows weaker by the minute as it warms him less and less. A small whimper leaves his lips and then he comes to a stop.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he begins, shivering and shaking. “I’ve come to ask a favor. My father wants the world to burn but I think there’s still so much worth saving.”
He wonders if Ghaul would crush him for these words or just thrash him around again. Still, he continues.
“I just want to be able to stop him. I want to keep everyone safe.”
If no one is strong enough to rise up against him then he will become that opponent. He takes a deep breath and begins his ascent up the mountain, chin held high and wings tucked close to his back. Even if people shrink back from him and seem repulsed to see the son of an awful king, he will protect them from the fire. His small claws grip the dirt as he carefully zig-zags his way around boulders or crevices. When the dirt turns to snow, he breathes little puffs of fire to warm himself and keep his shivering to a minimum.
He could fly, he supposes, but the winds are too harsh to allow him any control over his flight. His thin tail swings back and forth to help him keep his balance when he nearly stumbles on loose rocks. When he nears the top, it is midday and he begins to notice how thin the air is. His fire grows weaker by the minute as it warms him less and less. A small whimper leaves his lips and then he comes to a stop.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he begins, shivering and shaking. “I’ve come to ask a favor. My father wants the world to burn but I think there’s still so much worth saving.”
He wonders if Ghaul would crush him for these words or just thrash him around again. Still, he continues.
“I just want to be able to stop him. I want to keep everyone safe.”
