paint it black; any

[Lior]

I look inside myself

The dark creature finds himself in the meadow. There was a splendor of blooming wildflowers, framed by their pretty upturned faces. He is a dark shadow that chills their delicate petals. His features are blank and unaffected as gray mercury eyes float over the landscape without much interest. 

The soft birdsong draws him away from the hardness of his heart. Here he can clear the wicked rejection from his lungs. Here he can be realigned with the stars. Inky black scales of the dragon slowly melt back into his typical black hide,  mane sprouting from his crest and washing down the thickness of his neck. Tangled horsehair replaces the long scaling of his tail. Lior does not question his ability for Beqanna has given and taken from him before so why not now? Why not wake as a dark dragon in the damp blackness of a familiar cave? 

The tall male chooses to keep the pair of leathery dark wings at his spine, tucking them tightly against his skin. With a lifted skull, he scents the air, grasping for that of any known previously. There is some consultation in the lack of horses today but perhaps he wanted to find conversation amongst the tall green grass that grew with feverish rapidity.

What else did this day hold for him? 

And see my heart is black