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sprixyn
Grima:
Grima stood still and politely, smiling just ever so slightly, despite all the stares directed his way. The clan leaders listened to their petitioners, whose voices echoed against the high, gnarled walls and ceiling of the audience chamber, and Grima listened to the clan leaders.
Not listen with his ears, understand. No, not through body language, either. Grima didn't face the clan leaders to watch their shifts in posture, the changes in expression, where their gazes moved. Whenever they spoke, the words passed over Grima like water rolling down an oily leaf, becoming faraway and unimportant. No, he had more important work to do.
He
listened, with the strange senses that had first stolen his attention away that night as a hatchling, lying with his friends at night gazing up at the stars. He'd been laughing, happy, content and with a full belly, his eyes lazily wandering from constellation to constellation above--until the sky went blank. Not blank. Empty. Complete, utter blackness, a void, that
pulled at the young skydancer--until something inside him SNAPPED, and the pull rebounded, the darkness suddenly rushing into him,
pushing, filling him up whether he wanted it or not. When he'd blinked awake next, the stars were back, the sky just the same . . . but he no longer was.
The veins of blackness still itched sometimes, reminding him of that night. Even when they didn't itch, other dragons' stares and whispers did its job.
You are not one of us. You do not belong here. And yet here he stood, beside the clan leaders, up on the dais, raised above the ranks of the rest of the clan. Here, he could hold his head high and smile, pretend pretend pretend to belong. As long as no one else heard the whispers that tugged at his consciousness when awake and invaded his dreams when asleep, he still belonged.
And, well, if he did his job. Grima refocused, ignoring the eyes upon him, and listened using that other sense, tossing it out across the crowd like a fisher with their net, before gathering it back in. He . . .
tilted, recentering the direction of the other sense. Centered the net on himself, and lifted the ends of it up, so all the caught fish came falling down on him.
He swam amid a thousand different thoughts, feelings, half-conscious impressions and quick, fleeting judgements. He braced himself for the sudden rush of awareness, of knowledge, of the clan's distrust and hatred for him--he was used to this now, yes, yes he was, yes he could tell himself that, still--and pushed past it until he found the prize he sought after: the petitioner, and the clan leaders. Thanks to the strange dark magic traced like a web across his skin and feathers, he now had access to these dragons' true, unfiltered intentions. Not mind-reading, really, there was no clear stream of thoughts. Mere impressions of what they were really feeling--shadows, it could be said.
And Grima knew what he had to say. Knew what the shadows wanted him to say--for the good of the clan, of course. Of course. He was the leaders' advisor; everything he did was for the good of the clan. Yes.
One leader glanced his way. Grima was already leaning their way, having felt the tug of desire from the shadow-tell, and, still smiling, so quiet and polite, and
thoughtful was he, he knew the leader was thinking, he whispered in the leader's ear what they ought to do.
When he moved back, the shadow-tell died down slightly, the constant push and pull on his mind and body eased, and Grima was able to relax just that much. All for the good of the clan. And, hopefully, if he listened and obeyed well enough, long enough, he could get those cursed veins to stop itching.
He wasn't so sure about the stares.
~~~~
that was fun! what a pretty derg. hope this lore works for you!
Kazuki:
"Thanks, Kazu!" the young nocturne chirped, the shiny stone clutched tight in their claws as they zipped away.
Kazuki smiled and hummed happily to himself as he moved back into his den, bustling about putting away the tools he'd used to cut and polish the hatchling's lucky find for them. He always liked it when kids came to him for help, so was always willing to set aside whatever he was working on at the time, but he really
ought to catalogue the last of last week's trade into the clan's official records . . .
He moved to his desk and sat down amid the nest of cluttered papers, looking at the disorganized mess with just a hint of pride and self-ironic humor before digging through it find the proper reports. When he found them, he lit a new candle--the sun was going down, he saw through his den window--and settled down to finish up the last lines.
Ah, but his quill. His quill, where did it--oh, he knew. "Silly, silly," he muttered, shaking his head in amusement as he hurried away from his desk. "Of course it's just--"
He blinked down at the far edge of his nest, where, yes, there were the couple of books and the stack of notes he'd been taking last night during some late researching, but no quill. He frowned. "Really, now," he huffed. "That's just rude." Had his kelpie come through and made a mess . . . ? No, everything else in his den was, well, not in
order, but at least familiar in its usual disarray. Nothing seemed out of place . . .
Oh! He'd lent it to . . . no, no, they were out on vacation. Hm.
Kazuki reached up to scratch his head--and his claws touched a feather that was
distinctly not his own. He slowly pulled it down and held it before him, eyes squinted suspiciously. When he figured it out, he gaped in surprise, then couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head wryly.
Maybe he was getting too old for this if he was losing his quill in his own feathers . . . but, well. The day he
couldn't find it again, maybe that day he would retire. Until then--he moved back to his desk to finally, finally get those trade records complete, happily humming the same tune before.
Huh. He'd just noticed. He knew this song by heart, remembered it from his earliest days. But, at some point, apparently, he'd forgotten the words.
~~~~
love his outfit! the idea for this was inspired by the time i forgot where my glasses were and they were, in fact, right on my face. xD
thanks for sending in dergs! if you decide to put these snippets on their bios or anywhere, please credit me! :D
