[private] now is the end of days

[yadigar]

i don't want anything from her
except her red apple heart.
something i can bite into quickly
without making a mess.

Yadigar and his siblings had been growing perfectly despite the winter chill, thanks entirely to their parents careful monitoring. Their father routinely tapped on their shells until one day a tiny set of fetal claws tapped back. The sound was so soft it almost went unheard. That was how Gar learned the sound of his parents’ voices, though, as they cooed and talked so sweetly to him through his shell. After that, Clarissa touched her lips to each egg and whispered their names in soft lullabies each night before she slept.
 
But tonight, he answers Ghaul’s tapping with a long scrape against the wall of his egg. He has grown claustrophobic. He tries to stretch his small legs and he is met with firm resistance. The baby drake continues his clawing and his stretching throughout the night. The colt grows tired and naps often between his attempts at escape. He can hear his siblings likewise begin the arduous process of hatching and his parents pacing ceaselessly around them. At one point, his egg spins onto its side and he can hear his mother commanding Ghaul not to crack the shells for them. If only he would!
 
But dawn arrives and, at long last, he feels the egg begin to give. He is exhausted by now, but the breakthrough replenishes his will to go on tenfold. Yadigar gives a little kick and his foreleg feels the crisp air outside across his skin. Chilly air comes rushing in and he takes his first breath, gulping it down greedily. He stretches and the egg splits, shards of it tumbling into the nest. He gathers his strength and stretches harder than before until he frees himself. His wings splay open wide and he cries out for his mother to warm him. Every pale scale across his body is still soft and his fire is hardly more than an ember for now.
 
Carefully, so gentle he nearly doesn’t touch him, Ghaul lowers his face to the boy’s and he traces the outlines of his small face. Yadigar lifts his chin and smiles at the feeling of hot breath spilling over him. When his eyes open, he stares into the stars splashed across curled horns and he bleats softly to them. He turns to see his sisters, long since hatched, and his thin tail whips excitedly back and forth. It is Clarissa he looks to last, and he knows her by her voice. A soft chirp finds his lips and he reaches his nose eagerly for hers.

YadigaR

when i close my eyes, i'm a statue
that she wants to run her tongue over.
when i close my eyes, i cut it off and keep it.

@[asphyxea] @[cirilla] @[clarissa] @[ghaul]

[cirilla]

Her earliest memories are the sounds of her parents’ voices and the warmth of the flames in their respective bellies that keep her and her siblings warm. She is smaller than her draconic siblings, though, and she knows that her parents fear that she will have trouble hatching - but the time has come for her to at least try. Ciri desperately hopes that she is strong enough; she doesn’t have claws or teeth or anything to assist her, only a small nub where a horn will eventually grow.

Their parents pace anxiously and when the egg-of-gold begins to rock, Clarissa murmurs encouragement under her breath. Yadigar has already begun to break free, and likewise Ciri can hear Asphyxea cracking through her shell. With a laugh, Ghaul echoes their mother’s command from earlier that night not to help the children struggle free. This is their battle, and if their parents help strip the shells away, they will never learn to grow strong.

Finally, there is a crack, and Ciri thrusts her head through the small opening, eagerly drinking in the frosty air. Foal-soft hooves shove at the weakened membrane and her egg shatters, sending her tumbling into the cold. Surprisingly Gar is still trapped in his egg, though, and the small filly nickers to him as a clawed limb finally emerges, hardly even registering Clarissa and Ghaul hovering above them as her brother breaks free. In her excitement she turns to her sister who is also freed, and a shrill, excited whinny escapes her.

Above them, Clarissa looks at Ghaul and leans into the stallion, her white scales shining like an angel’s in the morning light. “They’re so perfect,” she whispers as their hatchlings begin to find their hooves and attempt to stand for the first time. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

@[asphyxea] @[yadigar]