|
micah
he/him don't touch me I will lose my powers be kind to everyone you will play half life now λ |
Creative Corner
Share your own art and stories, or ask for critique.
TOPIC | Aether Umbra - Nuzlocke
[img]http://i.imgur.com/0o3rtTR.png[/img]
[size=1]@Maddiebird@skyeset@wakener@Adriel@Fuurin[/size]
[right][font=book antiqua]Chapter 3
Firmament[/right]
[font=book antiqua]On the second day, the egg hatched.
It started as a tiny, tiny noise, so small that Vieve thought it was coming from outside, far away. Then the egg emitted a squeal, piercing and harsh, and she knew.
She had been indescribably bored and lonely over the past two days, wallowing in grief for her lost clanmates, and confusion as to why she alone had remained behind in the world as a ghost. She was sure the only thing that kept her from going completely bonkers was the egg, and the promise of the clan’s resurrection.
She had founded that clan, carved it a place in the world with her bare claws and teeth, and a little thing like death wasn’t going to stop her from keeping it alive. Even if only one living dragon, namely that little hatchling, made up the clan, they by the Shadowbinder [i]it was a clan and it was alive and Vieve had succeeded.[/i]
The hatchling roared, a savage little noise, though muffled by the shell, and Vieve wanted to roar back at it. Every dangerously loud sound that creature made proved that it was strong and it was a fighter.
The actual hatching of the egg was a long and nervewracking process. The hatchling inside struggled furiously, thrashing around and creating an ungodly amount of noise. Vieve, long past being proud of the hatchling’s ferocity, now cringed inwardly at every squeal, terrified of the return of the fox, or perhaps something even worse. How she longed to be able to help it, to quiet those cries, but she couldn’t. In life, she had felt helplessness quite often, of course. Who hadn’t? Running a clan was stressful business, and hard choices had to be made. In death, though, she couldn’t even [i]make[/i] a choice in the first place. She couldn’t even scream in frustration.
She was stuck.
The hatchling was patchy and dark, feathers damp and sticky. As it emerged, Vieve could see that it was a female. She seemed to be healthy enough, and strong. Vieve watched in happiness as the little thing finally pulled itself free of the shell and wiggled there in the leaf litter. Her mottled wings blended perfectly with the dirt, her patchy feathers breaking up her form. She would be able to hide easily.
As Vieve watched the hatchling squirm, worry began to seep into her head. Who would teach the hatchling how to survive? Who would protect her if the serthis returned? Vieve knew how to raise a child like she knew how to breathe, but now? Now she couldn’t do a single thing to help this poor creature. Chances were she would be stuck watching the thing bumble around the forest and starve to death. Then where would she be? Her clan would be dead, and that couldn’t happen, not on Vieve’s watch.
Even if watching was all she could do.
Meanwhile, the hatchling was grooming herself busily, licking her way up her leg like a little feathery cat. For a while, Vieve became absorbed in the hatchling’s graceful movements. Just out of the shell, and so beautiful, at least after her feathers dried out and she stopped looking like a half-drowned chicken.
[i]A name.[/i] As stupid as it was, the poor girl needed a name. It wasn’t like she would ever know the name, but it felt too strange to keep calling her [i]the hatchling.[/i]
Candice had planned out her names, Vieve knew. Hawilton and Warsha. Warsha was immediately discarded; much too sissy. The egg that was supposed to be Warsha was nowhere to be found, likely dead. That left Hawilton, which wasn’t much better, but it was a male name. Vieve loved male names on a girl; they spoke of toughness and spunk. She looked down at the little thing biting its own tail in the churned up leaves.
Hawilton.
[img]http://flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=25&bodygene=9&breed=12&element=7&gender=1&tert=127&tertgene=5&winggene=4&wings=70&auth=7f3c76a31b550a03a05cb548c4aaf3171a521b7b&dummyext=prev.png[/img]
[font=book antiqua]Nothing and no one in Vieve’s life had ever looked less like a Hawilton.
~
Darkness swooped like a great bat over the wood, and Hawilton was alone.
(Not completely, of course, but she didn’t know that.)
She didn’t know her name was Hawilton. She didn’t want a name. She didn’t know what a name was.
She just wanted to hide away forever.
Somewhere in her chest, there was a strange coldness that she couldn’t place, a hole. She wanted her mother, but she didn’t know what a mother was. So many instincts that conflicted with her surroundings, a clamour of emotions.
A root tripped her. She fell, rolling down a small incline, squealing loudly all the way. At the bottom, she started to cry, little injured bird squeaks. It was so unfair! And stupid! She was cold and hungry, and she hated the leaves! They smelled, and they were wet and horrible. Everything was horrible!
When she finished her crying, it was completely dark. She decided that the best course of action was to stay put until the sun came back. She huddled in the ditch, shivering, completely unaware of her guardian hovering close, trying to put some warmth into damp little Hawilton.
@Maddiebird@skyeset@wakener@Adriel@Fuurin
Chapter 3
Firmament
Firmament
On the second day, the egg hatched.
It started as a tiny, tiny noise, so small that Vieve thought it was coming from outside, far away. Then the egg emitted a squeal, piercing and harsh, and she knew.
She had been indescribably bored and lonely over the past two days, wallowing in grief for her lost clanmates, and confusion as to why she alone had remained behind in the world as a ghost. She was sure the only thing that kept her from going completely bonkers was the egg, and the promise of the clan’s resurrection.
She had founded that clan, carved it a place in the world with her bare claws and teeth, and a little thing like death wasn’t going to stop her from keeping it alive. Even if only one living dragon, namely that little hatchling, made up the clan, they by the Shadowbinder it was a clan and it was alive and Vieve had succeeded.
The hatchling roared, a savage little noise, though muffled by the shell, and Vieve wanted to roar back at it. Every dangerously loud sound that creature made proved that it was strong and it was a fighter.
The actual hatching of the egg was a long and nervewracking process. The hatchling inside struggled furiously, thrashing around and creating an ungodly amount of noise. Vieve, long past being proud of the hatchling’s ferocity, now cringed inwardly at every squeal, terrified of the return of the fox, or perhaps something even worse. How she longed to be able to help it, to quiet those cries, but she couldn’t. In life, she had felt helplessness quite often, of course. Who hadn’t? Running a clan was stressful business, and hard choices had to be made. In death, though, she couldn’t even make a choice in the first place. She couldn’t even scream in frustration.
She was stuck.
The hatchling was patchy and dark, feathers damp and sticky. As it emerged, Vieve could see that it was a female. She seemed to be healthy enough, and strong. Vieve watched in happiness as the little thing finally pulled itself free of the shell and wiggled there in the leaf litter. Her mottled wings blended perfectly with the dirt, her patchy feathers breaking up her form. She would be able to hide easily.
As Vieve watched the hatchling squirm, worry began to seep into her head. Who would teach the hatchling how to survive? Who would protect her if the serthis returned? Vieve knew how to raise a child like she knew how to breathe, but now? Now she couldn’t do a single thing to help this poor creature. Chances were she would be stuck watching the thing bumble around the forest and starve to death. Then where would she be? Her clan would be dead, and that couldn’t happen, not on Vieve’s watch.
Even if watching was all she could do.
Meanwhile, the hatchling was grooming herself busily, licking her way up her leg like a little feathery cat. For a while, Vieve became absorbed in the hatchling’s graceful movements. Just out of the shell, and so beautiful, at least after her feathers dried out and she stopped looking like a half-drowned chicken.
A name. As stupid as it was, the poor girl needed a name. It wasn’t like she would ever know the name, but it felt too strange to keep calling her the hatchling.
Candice had planned out her names, Vieve knew. Hawilton and Warsha. Warsha was immediately discarded; much too sissy. The egg that was supposed to be Warsha was nowhere to be found, likely dead. That left Hawilton, which wasn’t much better, but it was a male name. Vieve loved male names on a girl; they spoke of toughness and spunk. She looked down at the little thing biting its own tail in the churned up leaves.
Hawilton.
Nothing and no one in Vieve’s life had ever looked less like a Hawilton.
~
Darkness swooped like a great bat over the wood, and Hawilton was alone.
(Not completely, of course, but she didn’t know that.)
She didn’t know her name was Hawilton. She didn’t want a name. She didn’t know what a name was.
She just wanted to hide away forever.
Somewhere in her chest, there was a strange coldness that she couldn’t place, a hole. She wanted her mother, but she didn’t know what a mother was. So many instincts that conflicted with her surroundings, a clamour of emotions.
A root tripped her. She fell, rolling down a small incline, squealing loudly all the way. At the bottom, she started to cry, little injured bird squeaks. It was so unfair! And stupid! She was cold and hungry, and she hated the leaves! They smelled, and they were wet and horrible. Everything was horrible!
When she finished her crying, it was completely dark. She decided that the best course of action was to stay put until the sun came back. She huddled in the ditch, shivering, completely unaware of her guardian hovering close, trying to put some warmth into damp little Hawilton.
|
|
micah
he/him don't touch me I will lose my powers be kind to everyone you will play half life now λ |
[img]http://i.imgur.com/0o3rtTR.png[/img]
[size=1]@Maddiebird @skyeset @wakener @Adriel @Fuurin[/size]
[right][font=book antiqua]Chapter 4
Ghost and Egg[/right]
[font=book antiqua]Hawilton was getting hungry.
Vieve could tell from the way the poor thing walked, sort of hunched in, trying to make the hole in her stomach smaller. Vieve had seen that walk plenty of times in her life, but it was especially heartbreaking in Hawilton’s case. Coatls ate fish, Vieve knew. Vieve also knew exactly where to find fish. She had grown up in these exact woods, explored every bit of the territory, and she knew everything.
If only there was a way to tell Hawilton about it.
Many, many times over the past several days Vieve wondered whether it was really worth it, to try and make her clan live again from beyond the grave. What exactly could she do? Aside from the fox incident in the nesting cave, she couldn’t do a single thing to influence the world. She might as well be trying to change the ending of a book as she read.
Then she looked at Hawilton, oh so [i]alive[/i] and young and innocent, rolling in the leaves and chuckling with laughter despite her hunger, and vowed that she would stay with the hatchling even if it was useless.
If only Vieve could figure out how to feed the little cherub, not to mention protect her from predators and educate her.
Stressing about this occupied the long nights when Hawilton was sleeping and there was nothing to do or see. In the daytime, Hawilton became Vieve’s escape, enrapturing her with every pawstep, occupying her thoughts with those pretty mottled feathers, but in the night, while Hawilton slept, Vieve was idle. She didn’t sleep, nor did she seem to need to, so worrying was the only way to fill the hours.
The best place to fish, Vieve knew, was a deep pool, west of the nesting cave. Of course, Hawilton had wandered off in a more northwesterly direction. At least, Vieve supposed, she hadn’t been curious about the snake scents and followed the serthis tracks. That would have ended in a hurry.
She sighed inwardly and turned her attention to Hawilton. She was investigating a cockroach scurrying across a log, staring at it with huge eyes. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth curiously, smelling it. It skittered sideways, nervous, over the side of the log. Hawilton clamped a paw over it, two legs sticking out and waving frantically. Vieve laughed in her head, proud of the little huntress.
In one swift movement, Hawilton chomped it down and licked her chops. She pawed at the log, scaring more out of hiding, and pounced. She laughed, a funny trilling sound, at her own genius as she snatched at bugs. Vieve didn’t know exactly what to think; she had never known a coatl to eat anything other than fish. Did it hurt them to eat bugs?
Hawilton didn’t seem to have any precautions about the insects. She scurried after them happily, tearing up clouds of leaves, digging in the dirt and tearing through bark in search of her food in a frenzy. She looked so happy and innocent, completely perfect.
Vieve wished with all her heart that she could keep the little one safe and alive.
~
In the night, Hawiltion made a discovery.
Many clans considered this a sign of incredible luck. Vieve wasn’t quite sure. Was this a sign from the shadow goddess that Vieve would succeed in her mission to restore her clan? Or was it trick, from the queen of tricksters herself? In any case, it added a whole new layer of complexity.
And one more dragon.
[center][img]https://i.snag.gy/t0qUD8.jpg[/img][/center]
[font=book antiqua]It had happened like this:
Hawilton was looking for a place to spend the night. Vieve watched her with pride as the hatchling snuck her snout here and there, poking hollow tree trunks, searching for a shelter. Honestly, she didn’t get why the hatchling didn’t just find one place and [i]stay there[/i]. It would make things so much easier-
Hawilton cried out, a shrill sound, and Vieve was filled with fear.
She darted down in her weightless state, to hover right next to the hatchling’s feathery head. Nestled in the tree trunk was a glowing mushroom- no, more than that-
[img]http://flightrising.com/images/cms/trinket/580.png[/img]
[font=book antiqua]An [i]egg.[/i]
Vieve gasped in her head. A new clan member? To join Hawilton? What?
The egg twitched.
Hawilton screeched confusedly, sniffing the egg all over. She sat back on her haunches, unsure what to do with this strange object. She touched it once, twice and seemed to make up her mind; to Vieve’s delight she curled herself around the egg protectively. Her small, chubby snake body barely wrapped around the egg once; it was a big one.
They must have made a strange sight; a ghost, an egg, and a feathery little dragon, curled in a hollow log in the twilight.
@Maddiebird @skyeset @wakener @Adriel @Fuurin
Chapter 4
Ghost and Egg
Ghost and Egg
Hawilton was getting hungry.
Vieve could tell from the way the poor thing walked, sort of hunched in, trying to make the hole in her stomach smaller. Vieve had seen that walk plenty of times in her life, but it was especially heartbreaking in Hawilton’s case. Coatls ate fish, Vieve knew. Vieve also knew exactly where to find fish. She had grown up in these exact woods, explored every bit of the territory, and she knew everything.
If only there was a way to tell Hawilton about it.
Many, many times over the past several days Vieve wondered whether it was really worth it, to try and make her clan live again from beyond the grave. What exactly could she do? Aside from the fox incident in the nesting cave, she couldn’t do a single thing to influence the world. She might as well be trying to change the ending of a book as she read.
Then she looked at Hawilton, oh so alive and young and innocent, rolling in the leaves and chuckling with laughter despite her hunger, and vowed that she would stay with the hatchling even if it was useless.
If only Vieve could figure out how to feed the little cherub, not to mention protect her from predators and educate her.
Stressing about this occupied the long nights when Hawilton was sleeping and there was nothing to do or see. In the daytime, Hawilton became Vieve’s escape, enrapturing her with every pawstep, occupying her thoughts with those pretty mottled feathers, but in the night, while Hawilton slept, Vieve was idle. She didn’t sleep, nor did she seem to need to, so worrying was the only way to fill the hours.
The best place to fish, Vieve knew, was a deep pool, west of the nesting cave. Of course, Hawilton had wandered off in a more northwesterly direction. At least, Vieve supposed, she hadn’t been curious about the snake scents and followed the serthis tracks. That would have ended in a hurry.
She sighed inwardly and turned her attention to Hawilton. She was investigating a cockroach scurrying across a log, staring at it with huge eyes. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth curiously, smelling it. It skittered sideways, nervous, over the side of the log. Hawilton clamped a paw over it, two legs sticking out and waving frantically. Vieve laughed in her head, proud of the little huntress.
In one swift movement, Hawilton chomped it down and licked her chops. She pawed at the log, scaring more out of hiding, and pounced. She laughed, a funny trilling sound, at her own genius as she snatched at bugs. Vieve didn’t know exactly what to think; she had never known a coatl to eat anything other than fish. Did it hurt them to eat bugs?
Hawilton didn’t seem to have any precautions about the insects. She scurried after them happily, tearing up clouds of leaves, digging in the dirt and tearing through bark in search of her food in a frenzy. She looked so happy and innocent, completely perfect.
Vieve wished with all her heart that she could keep the little one safe and alive.
~
In the night, Hawiltion made a discovery.
Many clans considered this a sign of incredible luck. Vieve wasn’t quite sure. Was this a sign from the shadow goddess that Vieve would succeed in her mission to restore her clan? Or was it trick, from the queen of tricksters herself? In any case, it added a whole new layer of complexity.
And one more dragon.
It had happened like this:
Hawilton was looking for a place to spend the night. Vieve watched her with pride as the hatchling snuck her snout here and there, poking hollow tree trunks, searching for a shelter. Honestly, she didn’t get why the hatchling didn’t just find one place and stay there. It would make things so much easier-
Hawilton cried out, a shrill sound, and Vieve was filled with fear.
She darted down in her weightless state, to hover right next to the hatchling’s feathery head. Nestled in the tree trunk was a glowing mushroom- no, more than that-
An egg.
Vieve gasped in her head. A new clan member? To join Hawilton? What?
The egg twitched.
Hawilton screeched confusedly, sniffing the egg all over. She sat back on her haunches, unsure what to do with this strange object. She touched it once, twice and seemed to make up her mind; to Vieve’s delight she curled herself around the egg protectively. Her small, chubby snake body barely wrapped around the egg once; it was a big one.
They must have made a strange sight; a ghost, an egg, and a feathery little dragon, curled in a hollow log in the twilight.
|
|
micah
he/him don't touch me I will lose my powers be kind to everyone you will play half life now λ |
[img]http://i.imgur.com/0o3rtTR.png[/img]
[right][font=book antiqua]Chapter 5
Aurulent [/right]
[size=1]@Maddiebird@skyeset@wakener@Adriel@Fuurin[/size]
[quote=”Redwood”][font=book antiqua]The spiral whirled sporadically through the twisted, gnarled trees, happy to be back in the Shadowbinder's domain, happy to be somewhat closer to where she was born.
She spotted a tiny shape curled in the shadow of one of the trees and, distracted by her mission, darted down to investigate.
"Hmm?" she murmured aloud, sniffing at the hatchling. It was a coatl, much younger than she, protecting a quivering, glowing egg with her body.
"Perfect!" the spiral grinned, beaming down at the coatl. She pulled a scrap of scroll from her knapsack and read the carefully inked words that marked its surface.
[i]Find a clan in need and give them the mouse I sent with you.[/i]
The spiral chirruped in delight and decided that this was definitely a clan in need. She carefully took out a sleeping, dim-boubled pocket mouse and placed it by the sleeping hatchling. Its boubles glowed brighter as it leaned into the coatl's warmth.
"Wild'll be pleased!" the spiral declared as she started to depart. When she was a few kilometers away from the hatchling and the egg, it occured to her that maybe a motherless, fatherless hatchling should be taken care of.
She sighed melodramatically and turned around. She landed in a pile besides the young coatl and curled up next to her.
"Hatchlings," she muttered as she drifted into sleep.[/quote]
[font=book antiqua]Vieve almost died [i]-again-[/i] when the spiral came crashing out of the sky. Then flew away. Then came back, [i]again.[/i]
[i]Make up your mind, won’t you?[/i]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=9854656]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/98547/9854656_350.png[/img]
[/url]
[font=book antiqua]Then the spiral curled up around Hawilton, and that was the last straw, so to speak. A whole cocktail of emotions bubbled up in Vieve’s -not chest, certainly, as she didn’t have one anymore. Soul? Brain?
She felt fear, obviously. Life in a realm of tricks and illusions had taught her that things are very rarely what they seem, especially concerning strangers that turn up out of nowhere and claim good intentions. A familiar taste of helplessness, too; if the spiral wanted to, she could do any number of dreadful things to Hawilton, right in front of Vieve’s face, while she watched, unable to help.
Still, she also felt a sense of relief, in a way. Here was a dragon who could help Hawilton survive, a dragon who could teach the coatl everything she needed to know, just the dragon that Vieve the ghost and her tiny, pathetic clan needed. Maybe not wanted, but still needed.
A scratch and a scruffle in the nighttime quiet; something was near.
It took Vieve a few breathless moments to realize that the sounds had come from; a small creature, huddled near Hawilton’s sleeping form. Vieve stared at it, unbearably tense, as she waited for it to do something. It didn’t move, aside from a few flickers of bioluminescence.
[img]http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/flightrising/images/1/11/Glowing_Pocket_Mouse.png[/img]
[font=book antiqua]She didn’t like this.
She didn’t like the spiral.
She didn’t like the glowing creature.
She didn’t like the egg.
Did [i]not.[/i]
~
Hawilton was cold.
Then she wasn’t.
It was that simple.
It wasn’t until later (much later) that she was warm enough to be alarmed; even then, her alarm wasn’t great. In fact, she felt better than she had for quite a while in her short life. The hollow loneliness in her chest was gone, filled by this warm presence of snakelike dragon. She sighed and went back to sleep.
An indeterminate amount of time passed, and slowly she became away of something small stabbing her belly. It wasn’t until dribbles of hot wetness began to stain her feathers that she squawked sleepily and pushed away. The pile of dragon around her collapsed, coils sprawling across the ground. It made a sleepy, annoyed sound and wiggled away.
It was the egg, hatching, sharp bits of eggshell falling away. Hawilton looked down at her belly; a small shard had pierced her fur and skin where she rested against the egg. Even though she had felt pain before, she had never seen blood. It was hot and sticky and crimson like the sunset, with a salty metallic flavor when she tried to lick it off.
“Ooh!” The spiral chirruped. “How exciting! A hatching!”
Hawilton cocked her head and squawked. She didn’t understand the words.
“Oh, hi! Do you have a name?”
Squawk.
“Is this your little sister?”
Squawk.
“No?”
Hawilton was growing frustrated with this dragon and her funny sounds. She trotted over to the egg, pawing it as it shook and glowed.
“Egg?”
SQUAWK.
“Calm down! It’s just hatching.”
Hawilton didn’t know what that MEANT. She didn’t understand, and it was [i]frustrating.[/i]
Meanwhile, the egg (rather, the dragon inside) whimpered. Hawilton returned the whimper sympathetically. The shell was falling away in a somewhat dramatic way, the glow fading as it fell. It was almost hypnotic, and Hawilton stared. It looked like blue fireflies.
The spiral hurried to the egg, cooing at the hatchling as it emerged. The hatchling was purple with blue wings, brightly colored and garish against the dim, twisted trees. Hawilton had never seen such bright colors, and she chirped happily, running a paw over a bright wing in wonder. The scales shimmered like stars, and the wing twitched away.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=29519011]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/295191/29519011_350.png[/img]
[/url]
[font=book antiqua]The hatchling bit her tail and chuckled.
“Tiamat!” Hawilton looked up. The spiral was talking again. Hawilton wished she wouldn’t. She couldn’t understand the noises.
“Hey, little dragon, look! Her name’s Tiamat!” Hawilton cocked her head. “Tiamat, Tiamat! Tia!”
Something clicked.
The noise the spiral made, [i]Tiamat[/i], was the little guardian dragon, somehow. [i]Tiamat[/i].
“Golden Sun,” said the spiral. She pointed at herself with a dark talon. “Golden Sun. I’m Golden Sun.”
Golden Sun. Tiamat.
Hawilton had barely woken up, but already it had been a strange, strange day.
((Thanks to @Redwood for giving Hawilton a nice spiral friend!! I'm sure Vieve will come to appreciate her too eventually))
Chapter 5
Aurulent
@Maddiebird@skyeset@wakener@Adriel@FuurinAurulent
”Redwood” wrote:
The spiral whirled sporadically through the twisted, gnarled trees, happy to be back in the Shadowbinder's domain, happy to be somewhat closer to where she was born.
She spotted a tiny shape curled in the shadow of one of the trees and, distracted by her mission, darted down to investigate.
"Hmm?" she murmured aloud, sniffing at the hatchling. It was a coatl, much younger than she, protecting a quivering, glowing egg with her body.
"Perfect!" the spiral grinned, beaming down at the coatl. She pulled a scrap of scroll from her knapsack and read the carefully inked words that marked its surface.
Find a clan in need and give them the mouse I sent with you.
The spiral chirruped in delight and decided that this was definitely a clan in need. She carefully took out a sleeping, dim-boubled pocket mouse and placed it by the sleeping hatchling. Its boubles glowed brighter as it leaned into the coatl's warmth.
"Wild'll be pleased!" the spiral declared as she started to depart. When she was a few kilometers away from the hatchling and the egg, it occured to her that maybe a motherless, fatherless hatchling should be taken care of.
She sighed melodramatically and turned around. She landed in a pile besides the young coatl and curled up next to her.
"Hatchlings," she muttered as she drifted into sleep.
She spotted a tiny shape curled in the shadow of one of the trees and, distracted by her mission, darted down to investigate.
"Hmm?" she murmured aloud, sniffing at the hatchling. It was a coatl, much younger than she, protecting a quivering, glowing egg with her body.
"Perfect!" the spiral grinned, beaming down at the coatl. She pulled a scrap of scroll from her knapsack and read the carefully inked words that marked its surface.
Find a clan in need and give them the mouse I sent with you.
The spiral chirruped in delight and decided that this was definitely a clan in need. She carefully took out a sleeping, dim-boubled pocket mouse and placed it by the sleeping hatchling. Its boubles glowed brighter as it leaned into the coatl's warmth.
"Wild'll be pleased!" the spiral declared as she started to depart. When she was a few kilometers away from the hatchling and the egg, it occured to her that maybe a motherless, fatherless hatchling should be taken care of.
She sighed melodramatically and turned around. She landed in a pile besides the young coatl and curled up next to her.
"Hatchlings," she muttered as she drifted into sleep.
Vieve almost died -again- when the spiral came crashing out of the sky. Then flew away. Then came back, again.
Make up your mind, won’t you?
Then the spiral curled up around Hawilton, and that was the last straw, so to speak. A whole cocktail of emotions bubbled up in Vieve’s -not chest, certainly, as she didn’t have one anymore. Soul? Brain?
She felt fear, obviously. Life in a realm of tricks and illusions had taught her that things are very rarely what they seem, especially concerning strangers that turn up out of nowhere and claim good intentions. A familiar taste of helplessness, too; if the spiral wanted to, she could do any number of dreadful things to Hawilton, right in front of Vieve’s face, while she watched, unable to help.
Still, she also felt a sense of relief, in a way. Here was a dragon who could help Hawilton survive, a dragon who could teach the coatl everything she needed to know, just the dragon that Vieve the ghost and her tiny, pathetic clan needed. Maybe not wanted, but still needed.
A scratch and a scruffle in the nighttime quiet; something was near.
It took Vieve a few breathless moments to realize that the sounds had come from; a small creature, huddled near Hawilton’s sleeping form. Vieve stared at it, unbearably tense, as she waited for it to do something. It didn’t move, aside from a few flickers of bioluminescence.
She didn’t like this.
She didn’t like the spiral.
She didn’t like the glowing creature.
She didn’t like the egg.
Did not.
~
Hawilton was cold.
Then she wasn’t.
It was that simple.
It wasn’t until later (much later) that she was warm enough to be alarmed; even then, her alarm wasn’t great. In fact, she felt better than she had for quite a while in her short life. The hollow loneliness in her chest was gone, filled by this warm presence of snakelike dragon. She sighed and went back to sleep.
An indeterminate amount of time passed, and slowly she became away of something small stabbing her belly. It wasn’t until dribbles of hot wetness began to stain her feathers that she squawked sleepily and pushed away. The pile of dragon around her collapsed, coils sprawling across the ground. It made a sleepy, annoyed sound and wiggled away.
It was the egg, hatching, sharp bits of eggshell falling away. Hawilton looked down at her belly; a small shard had pierced her fur and skin where she rested against the egg. Even though she had felt pain before, she had never seen blood. It was hot and sticky and crimson like the sunset, with a salty metallic flavor when she tried to lick it off.
“Ooh!” The spiral chirruped. “How exciting! A hatching!”
Hawilton cocked her head and squawked. She didn’t understand the words.
“Oh, hi! Do you have a name?”
Squawk.
“Is this your little sister?”
Squawk.
“No?”
Hawilton was growing frustrated with this dragon and her funny sounds. She trotted over to the egg, pawing it as it shook and glowed.
“Egg?”
SQUAWK.
“Calm down! It’s just hatching.”
Hawilton didn’t know what that MEANT. She didn’t understand, and it was frustrating.
Meanwhile, the egg (rather, the dragon inside) whimpered. Hawilton returned the whimper sympathetically. The shell was falling away in a somewhat dramatic way, the glow fading as it fell. It was almost hypnotic, and Hawilton stared. It looked like blue fireflies.
The spiral hurried to the egg, cooing at the hatchling as it emerged. The hatchling was purple with blue wings, brightly colored and garish against the dim, twisted trees. Hawilton had never seen such bright colors, and she chirped happily, running a paw over a bright wing in wonder. The scales shimmered like stars, and the wing twitched away.
The hatchling bit her tail and chuckled.
“Tiamat!” Hawilton looked up. The spiral was talking again. Hawilton wished she wouldn’t. She couldn’t understand the noises.
“Hey, little dragon, look! Her name’s Tiamat!” Hawilton cocked her head. “Tiamat, Tiamat! Tia!”
Something clicked.
The noise the spiral made, Tiamat, was the little guardian dragon, somehow. Tiamat.
“Golden Sun,” said the spiral. She pointed at herself with a dark talon. “Golden Sun. I’m Golden Sun.”
Golden Sun. Tiamat.
Hawilton had barely woken up, but already it had been a strange, strange day.
((Thanks to @Redwood for giving Hawilton a nice spiral friend!! I'm sure Vieve will come to appreciate her too eventually))
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micah
he/him don't touch me I will lose my powers be kind to everyone you will play half life now λ |
@AmTim
Aw, man, you depicted her perfectly! I forgot to ask earlier, but may I be added to the ping list?
Aw, man, you depicted her perfectly! I forgot to ask earlier, but may I be added to the ping list?
@AmTim
Aw, man, you depicted her perfectly! I forgot to ask earlier, but may I be added to the ping list?
Aw, man, you depicted her perfectly! I forgot to ask earlier, but may I be added to the ping list?
this is the one that cycles through the different elemental festival familiars because i like all of them :]
@Redwood
@Shadeofchaos
@kryptica
Okay! thank you all ^w^
(edit: I pinged somebody called Shade by accident from autocorrect, sorryyy)
@Shadeofchaos
@kryptica
Okay! thank you all ^w^
(edit: I pinged somebody called Shade by accident from autocorrect, sorryyy)
@Redwood
@Shadeofchaos
@kryptica
Okay! thank you all ^w^
(edit: I pinged somebody called Shade by accident from autocorrect, sorryyy)
@Shadeofchaos
@kryptica
Okay! thank you all ^w^
(edit: I pinged somebody called Shade by accident from autocorrect, sorryyy)
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micah
he/him don't touch me I will lose my powers be kind to everyone you will play half life now λ |