03-06-2020, 12:28 PM
You’re uncontrollable
and we are unlovable
and we are unlovable
At first, the near-emptiness of the New Isle is fine with the ice dragon: after all, it means people leave him be. Neverwhere hadn’t bothered to come scowl at his taking over, which suggests the bald-faced mare isn’t very interested nor invested in the island to her north. She is, of course, very much playing favourites, but not with him.
His stomach wins it, in the end. The once frozen place has been turned to a less-frozen version of itself, and the transformation turned ‘little food’ into ‘hardly any scraps at all’. Animals that had died had also been turned to dust, and even Leilan, or perhaps just Leilan as a dragon, decides that he is not stubborn enough to live out his days in hunger -not just to claim a territory that nobody else wanted.
His wings carry him to the Field, but his dragon shape does not attract any visitors; what animals he sees all leave the scene. He wonders if Castile is still around; if he made Beqanna into a fearful bunch of horses and lands; with the exception perhaps of the magicians, who mostly would be enjoying the show.
He turns back, to see if the Meadow or Forest perhaps hold a deer for him - and then he spies the familiar form down below. Sabra.
She hadn’t been in Hyaline when he last visited; the ice had been broken from the inside out, so he knew she hadn’t been eaten or taken away, but woken by herself. Part of him had been sorry he hadn’t been around when she woke, part of him had been very, very glad he wasn’t there to be the subject of her anger.
He lands in the grass, and his wings retreat to his back and his body sits in a cat-like manner. Whatever the type of bird had been singing, unfortunately falls dead-silent. As if such a bird would be any type of useful meal - in fact he would welcome one if they’d like to rid his scales if littler insects. ”Sabra.” he names her, his tail swishing in the grass until it meets his front paws. ”You finally made it back, I see.” Part of the reason that he hadn’t been there when she woke, was that waiting was the one thing that bored him the most.
His eyes squint at her and the javelin piercing her. ”Not unharmed though? Did you walk into a tree?” he tilts his head at her, blinking fake-innocently.
His stomach wins it, in the end. The once frozen place has been turned to a less-frozen version of itself, and the transformation turned ‘little food’ into ‘hardly any scraps at all’. Animals that had died had also been turned to dust, and even Leilan, or perhaps just Leilan as a dragon, decides that he is not stubborn enough to live out his days in hunger -not just to claim a territory that nobody else wanted.
His wings carry him to the Field, but his dragon shape does not attract any visitors; what animals he sees all leave the scene. He wonders if Castile is still around; if he made Beqanna into a fearful bunch of horses and lands; with the exception perhaps of the magicians, who mostly would be enjoying the show.
He turns back, to see if the Meadow or Forest perhaps hold a deer for him - and then he spies the familiar form down below. Sabra.
She hadn’t been in Hyaline when he last visited; the ice had been broken from the inside out, so he knew she hadn’t been eaten or taken away, but woken by herself. Part of him had been sorry he hadn’t been around when she woke, part of him had been very, very glad he wasn’t there to be the subject of her anger.
He lands in the grass, and his wings retreat to his back and his body sits in a cat-like manner. Whatever the type of bird had been singing, unfortunately falls dead-silent. As if such a bird would be any type of useful meal - in fact he would welcome one if they’d like to rid his scales if littler insects. ”Sabra.” he names her, his tail swishing in the grass until it meets his front paws. ”You finally made it back, I see.” Part of the reason that he hadn’t been there when she woke, was that waiting was the one thing that bored him the most.
His eyes squint at her and the javelin piercing her. ”Not unharmed though? Did you walk into a tree?” he tilts his head at her, blinking fake-innocently.
and I don’t want you to think that I care
I never would, I never could again
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Sabra] she knows her way around dragons I’m sure
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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