Insane theater (birthing) - any.

[Killdare]

no matter what we breed we still are made of greed

If anything about her was soft, it was lost on him. As lost as maternal instinct appeared to be on the woman. Nothing passes between the group that suggests they are all strangers, that suggests they are as unfamiliar with each other as a newborn babe is to the world.  The children on the other hand melt into their dam, pressing their young forms into her body for protection. It’s a sight he’s seen a time or two, one that reminds him of his sons, of Engelfors and he shakes the thought away.

The misshapen boy scents, nostrils prying at the air for something to grab on to. For something to hold with a sense that had not been robbed from him, this Killdare can understand. Often he considered just how much more important one’s sense of smell was compared against the others. He shifts slightly, lifting a wing from his side and waving it forward. A rush of air to follow, like the waving of a fan on a summer day. Throwing his own smell at the child, one filled with musk and pine. With a faint reptilian base, soot and ash as well. Killdare knew he smelled mainly of the Chamber, he so rarely left it.

The woman then greets him, hello, his eyes wander from the boy to the red again. Remembering her presence as she shoos the child forward, the dim light leaking through the pines playing on his features. His mess or lake thereof anyways, he would never be handsome that’s for sure. Not in the sense that Killdare regarded the word, yet he cannot fault the colt for it. No one ever chooses their fate, let alone their appearance. They simply play the hand they are given, and take what they can with it.

“Interesting. If you say.” He comments, voice deep baritone and coarse. In truth the foal was like a train wreck engulfed in flame, and he was unable to revert his eyes from the horror. Remembering his manners for a brief moment he tethers his name to their ears, “Killdare.” His brow furrows as he looks them over, glassy green eyes passing over each form with a sense of study.

KILLDARE

this is my kingdom come

The Dragon Lord & Colonel of the Chamber