11-19-2020, 08:12 PM
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
He watches Tarian’s reaction to his words and he notes the plethora of microexpressions that he wears as he processes them. His scaled head tilts and he hums softly in thought. Oceane was the only one left? Intriguing. There is a faint smirk etching its way across his face before the pegasus seems to get lost in the endless paths the eye shows him. It promises both greatness and calamity, without any indication as to which is more plausible. Yadigar has learned to never trust its sweet promises.
And then he poses a question of his own. If Loess managed to take him as her captive, what would he do? What a splendid notion. No one had ever dared to reach for him here, in the shadow of his father’s crown. But now Ghaul is gone and he has taken the role of the family patriarch for himself.
“I would meet your queen and learn her intentions for her home. Then I would identify her weaknesses and plan how to tear it all apart at the seams,” he admits callously. “Pangea exists to test the boundaries of this world and fortify whatever it finds worthy.”
He steps closer, then, turning his head so the mottled flesh of his missing eye faces Tarian now.
“I was born weak and soft-scaled, you see. My sister tore out my only good eye and so I learned to see in other ways. My survival relied entirely on my ability to adapt.”
Yadigar remembers how his father had held his face in his iron talons and cauterized the weeping wound. He painted the desert’s red dust in his blood and left him there to sob into the night. It had been cruel, but it had made him a greater hunter, and taught him he could survive even the trials that made him beg for death.
“Is that would you’d like to do, Tarian? Meet Straia and see if you can find where she bruises the best?”
And then he poses a question of his own. If Loess managed to take him as her captive, what would he do? What a splendid notion. No one had ever dared to reach for him here, in the shadow of his father’s crown. But now Ghaul is gone and he has taken the role of the family patriarch for himself.
“I would meet your queen and learn her intentions for her home. Then I would identify her weaknesses and plan how to tear it all apart at the seams,” he admits callously. “Pangea exists to test the boundaries of this world and fortify whatever it finds worthy.”
He steps closer, then, turning his head so the mottled flesh of his missing eye faces Tarian now.
“I was born weak and soft-scaled, you see. My sister tore out my only good eye and so I learned to see in other ways. My survival relied entirely on my ability to adapt.”
Yadigar remembers how his father had held his face in his iron talons and cauterized the weeping wound. He painted the desert’s red dust in his blood and left him there to sob into the night. It had been cruel, but it had made him a greater hunter, and taught him he could survive even the trials that made him beg for death.
“Is that would you’d like to do, Tarian? Meet Straia and see if you can find where she bruises the best?”
@[Tarian]