Mother
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When the Coatl awakens, he notices he is tucked into the crook of the neck of the Mirror from before. Power rolled from the older dragon in waves, and, curiously, Hatchling nudged his face against the Mirror's shoulder.
Twin pairs of eyes blink open, and the Coatl squeaks in shock when a finned ear, much softer than it's horn like appearance led to believe, gently flapped over his head.
"Unnamed little one, I am Ghira. From this moment, I will be your Leader, and today, we will meet with who will be your mother, she who will also be your name giver." Could Ghira really decide this? Apparently so, while Unnamed was not very keen with his sense of smell, there was still an abundance of scents from different dragons and different elements, all overlayed with the scent of water that so strongly came from Ghira. Ghira must then not be a self-proclaimed leader, he simply just must be.
Unnamed cooed under his breath, feathered mane lowering flat down his skull and neck, as he twisted his head upside down. Curious, but afraid. A burst of low, rumbling laughter came from Ghira, and Unnamed could not help but to squeak, indignified from this. Though he knew not why the Leader was laughing.
"Easy, no need to flare your feathers at me. Come, we will meet with the one to be your mother." Electric blue eyes blinked, reluctantly standing on shaking legs, he had not walked before, though Dragons aged quickly to reach their prime, the first steps were regardless, always the most difficult thing to master.
But it came, stepping cautiously to rise, wings dragging in the ground like a blanket, shrouding his garnet-colored hide. Instinctively, he could not help but feel proud, of the blues and reds and violets marking his body. Colorful, with a range that melded well together. He was pretty. That was good, at least it felt that way.
But he could not focus for long, as Ghira moved on ahead, his shoulders rolled back, bat-like wings folded precisely along his spine. Curious, Unnamed tried to mimic his actions, clumsily folding feathered wings to his spine.
Feathers stuck out oddly, and he felt incredibly off balanced. Maybe he was doing it wrong. Probably. Ghira peered back, met with the sight of the little hatchling with his wings bundled much like an oversized coat wrapped around his shoulders. Oh dear.
Lowering his muzzle, he nudged the hatchling's wings into a proper fold, eliciting a happy trill from the hatchling. If Zircon were not so protective of Stella, Ghira would have liked to leave the unnamed hatchling with him. But as it stood, the Unnamed was young, freshly hatched and barely making it past his first day. Young one bounded about his claws now, muzzle open wide, revealing small fangs as he laughed and squealed. So young, so young to be left, and for what reason?
The question burned in Ghira's flesh, but he pressed on. A violet Skydancer eventually made way into his focus, and Ghira called out to her, deep azure eyes peering about to his direction. Black wings closed, and she lowered her head, bending to the will of her Clan's leader with practiced ease.
"Ghira. What do you require of me?" The unnamed Hatchling peered up now, and he curiously flicked his tongue out, testing the air. Another Skydancer. Feathered mane lowered again, uncertain.
"You lost your clutch, I was aware Zahira. Another Skydancer came, and she left this little one here. Perhaps, you would be willing to watch him? He hatched just before she abandoned him-"
There's a low snarl, long tail lashing, annoyed.
"Replacing my hatchlings will not make me-" Ghira's wings suddenly unfolded, spreading wide as his finned ears stretched out, intimidation, silent, with an unwavering, withering glare.
"Yield."
Zahira almost instantly fell back, making herself smaller, eyes averted as she picked her clawed talons along the sandy grounds. "I yield, Leader." Were all Clans like this? Fighting until one was made the leader? The thought was not a pleasant one, though it did happen to be intriguing.
"Now... to the matter of the hatchling. He is Unnamed, was abandoned to our Clan. I offered you a chance to be a mother. Whether you take it or not does not matter, you will be raising him." A single nod and Ghira uses a wickedly clawed nudge to the unnamed's back, prompting a tiny growl of frustration. Unnamed didn't want to go anywhere anymore.
"Go on." A low whine and he does, wings wilting along his back.
When the Mirror left, the Skydancer lowered her maw, hooded eyes glaring down at him.
"You will be called Sibilum, and never, will you refer to me as mother."
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