@
xwarangelx @
iycerose@humanaleph @
lasttyme (There is so much symbolism in his meal! XD I can't believe my mind works like this! I keep forgetting dragons use telepathy. XP)
The Cauldron stirs with life and heat. Magma churns in her belly and rolls spiking to the surface of her jagged toothed maw. Rock, red from her light bathed in her heat flicker with shadows. “D*** it!” A few of her spines crumble, falling down down down into the abyss of her belly.
“F***!” Beads of sweat like crystalline tears roll down his bare back, his face, his everywhere. Full dark lashes flutter in futile attempt to keep the stinging salty beads from his eyes. He grinds his teeth and glares at the ledge only a scant four feet from him. The adjoining segment now gone into the fluid rock below.
“Hah!” It is less a cheer and more an exhalation. Cracked, chipped, broken nails bleeding from work ingrained with grit that will never leave scrabble for purchase as he has now thrown himself across said gap. They will never be pretty again, never be delicate as they once were yet still are capable of such gentle craft.
“Hahhhh Hahahhh” Panting, Feet brace sharp cliff, his face scrunches in a feral snarl against the world today. But the trial is over, for now it would seem as he edges sideways along the cliff face and leaps fearlessly to an iron ring. Dangling from one arm he swings to the next ring and so on and so forth. Over all a massive bell toll, it is time for supper and all would be gathering in the Grand Hall.
---
With a thund Zayit lands on flat, safe, earth, dripping sweat and panting from the effort of simply getting to supper. His stone blacked feet pad softly as he maneuvers around another igneous bend. Dozens and dozens of massive reptiles trot, walk, and gallop into the main hall. Fire light turns the entrance gold from this angle and for a brief moment the human smiles imagining the entrance to be an incinerator of sorts.
Burn, all of you burn in the pits of Hell. Sadly the effect is ruined as thousands of voices all cheerfully gay banter with one another from inside. He takes a step then another and the makes a dash for it.
Fetching food can be as perilous as simply reaching the Grand Hall. Dragons docile by nature are not always so clever and when one ‘Ooops I didn’t see you there.’ Delivered in the kindest possible tones meant death by crushing...well better to play it safe.
The grand hall is massive structure. A hollowed out cavern filled with row and rows of long table, dotted with benches at the sides and all light by chandeliers and hanging lantern torches in ornate iron crafted vases. It is the second main hub of dragon activity even though the kitchens are only open three times a day. However as is everything if one simply wished to open a kitchen or use a stove the room is a community shared and could be accessed by anyone.
Weaving grumpily around Zayit keeps to the sides of the Hall edging towards the human sized tables. For a brief moment he looks up, some tower like castles others smaller than he, all scaled or skinned or feathered with not a care in the world save for the company the share. His stomach rolls equal parts sickness and hunger.
Ghost green eyes stop mid way to the tables a pang of sorrow flairing up. Scanning hesitly about he confirms his suspicion, no Lila.
Alone it is then. For all his hatred and all his disgust ZAyit is a lonely creature. Fighting a solo mission against the world is not a jovial path nor is it one with more friends than enemies, Lila being the primary source of his companionship. Something else tugs at his mind and he brushes it away. An instinct natural and driven, primary to all thought.
I should not have shifted last night. The desire to hunt down one of his own and claim kin and mate is something that has been gnawing at the man but not so strong as to sway him.
I can’t let myself becomes one of them THEM. Images flicker into his thoughts about his choice last night. His brother’s insistence, begging the older to come just for a quick cool flight in the high county. Just the two of them some family bonding, away from the noise and the others. Kimchi knows how greatly his brother treasures time spent with him and how appealing the cold and peace would be to Zayit...And it was...a truly lovely night.
Tossing the thoughts away and moving at a shaky trot the young male knocks into someone, another human who? It doesn’t really matter. “Sorry Sorry!” Zayit’s voice is troubled but has effort enough.
They have soft cloths. Raising a hand but not his head Zayit continues wearily to one of the smaller buffets. He gathers a plate and shuffles along the line. Like all dragons his stomach functions in similar and different ways than before. Fae as he is require a high protein diet. He could, being a man and having the teeth and bowels for it, consume any number of meats, fishes, plants....however he found insects being the most satisfying and sustaining to his diet.
Initially it was a disgust to him, so many legs, the way the crunch, the fact they were still biting as they went down. Zayit carelessly tosses six fat, writhing, centipedes into his bowl then a cluster of grapes. A smirk plays over than male’s lips as he effortlessly glides the bowl into his left hand. His feet play in the clever steps of a dancer catching both a flagon’s handle and a cup’s stem with a twirl and sauntering to his empty table head held high. This is ‘fun’ for Zayit. This is the limit of ‘fun’ one could have while truly alone.
Eyes flow the peculiar motion of the man, skin bronzed from the caverns heat. He resists the urge to snarl at then and sliently prays his skin will lighten in the coming days.
Almost done with this area.Then Up we go. Travel in Home was less a directional North vs South as it was A moving Up the mountain vs Down the mountain.
A stream of water flows from the flagon in his cup and laughter like chiming bells echoes in his ears. A shiver runs down the man’s bare spine, frills raised with alertness and his eyes can with diminished hope. “Bro-”
He catches sight of light skin and dark panda like eyes, a heart melting smile reminiscent of summer’s warmth. Then Zayit’s blood runs cold, a purple speckled mane, a large rounded face and equine eseque teeth. Sinking down the fae looking absolutely haunted, pincers scrap at his jaw as his meal tries to escape, too bad, vicious pointed teeth crush the insect it’s vital juices dripping down his chin.
Don’t notice me. Do Not notice me. Feeling hollow Zayit cleans his face and stews miserably. Sure he COULD go and sit with his brother BUT what was the point? He would make a fool of himself merely
climbing to eye height. The dragons would 'talk' with roars and churrs unintelligible for him unless he opened his thoughts. Like that would ever happen. His brother would try and forcefully drag him into conversation a Zayit could not hear and the the younger would looks so sad when other elder did not reply. Climbing atop his brother may give him the ability to hear but in the noisy dining hall with such small vocal chords Zayit would need to screech to be heard...no...no tonight he Zayit would be dining alone. He casts one final look to his brother enterating the company of many even one of the massive sky lords(An Imperial Kim and Zay would be Asian in heritage) from ancient traditions....Turning back to his solitary meals Zayit glooms collecting a grape and the another crushing the sweet red juices in his mouth.
Might as well be sawdust. His eyes drift half lidded in lonesomeness unfocused to the world around him.
