YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
He stands on the edge of a crumbling Pangean cliff and he wonders if he would actually die if he dove right off it. The sound of bones snapping like dry branches plays on repeat within his mind. His leathery wings spread and with a single flap, he is airborne. A second flap begins his ascent as he decides to leave his homeland for the day instead of teasing himself with the idea of death.
The burn wounds across his face are healing, albeit slowly. The scab itches and he can tell it’s nearly ready to slough away and reveal fresh scar tissue to match the other missing eye. As his wings skim across the tops of fat white clouds, he pulls his talons up against his body to make the wind glide smoother over him. He misses the way the wind still managed to make his blind eye cry all those involuntary tears, if he’s being honest. It was the only thing that made him cry at all, anymore.
With all these troublesome thoughts rattling around in his head, he almost forgets that he had a destination in mind until he sees the river snaking over the land beneath him. Yadigar tucks his wings and tips his head down to begin a sharp descent. (From this height, certainly, he would not survive.) He extends his legs and spreads his talons while his wings suddenly spring open and give one, two flaps to steady his landing.
The ground meets him with a heavy thud. The river mud forms a perfect imprint of his claws once he moves on. His spiked tail swings lazily behind him as he eases into the river current, a hissing breath catching between his teeth at the cold waters. He will gradually acclimate to this chill, he knows, so he continues on until the current runs across his back.
Then he sighs and enjoys the summer sun across his scaled face.
The burn wounds across his face are healing, albeit slowly. The scab itches and he can tell it’s nearly ready to slough away and reveal fresh scar tissue to match the other missing eye. As his wings skim across the tops of fat white clouds, he pulls his talons up against his body to make the wind glide smoother over him. He misses the way the wind still managed to make his blind eye cry all those involuntary tears, if he’s being honest. It was the only thing that made him cry at all, anymore.
With all these troublesome thoughts rattling around in his head, he almost forgets that he had a destination in mind until he sees the river snaking over the land beneath him. Yadigar tucks his wings and tips his head down to begin a sharp descent. (From this height, certainly, he would not survive.) He extends his legs and spreads his talons while his wings suddenly spring open and give one, two flaps to steady his landing.
The ground meets him with a heavy thud. The river mud forms a perfect imprint of his claws once he moves on. His spiked tail swings lazily behind him as he eases into the river current, a hissing breath catching between his teeth at the cold waters. He will gradually acclimate to this chill, he knows, so he continues on until the current runs across his back.
Then he sighs and enjoys the summer sun across his scaled face.