Post by Lone Dancer on Sept 9, 2021 2:28:54 GMT
"Who am I? Who am I?" The nightwing with the purple hat look affronted. The lanterns hanging from the stone walls flickered in sync. He shook his claw, before tossing hit hat to a clone of himself. The dragonets suddenly found themselves almost surrounded by copies of this strange nightwing with a purple hat.
Somehow snapping his claws, the nightwing spoke;
"I am [undecipherable gibberish]!" The last part was in discordance, jilted, as if the word that was his name was not meant to exist, much less be heard by mortal ears. The stone walls began to shift, and the all clones faded away into the shadows, but shining purple eyes still rested within, staring. The scenery shifted, to that of a serene beach.
On the soft warm sand, the same nightwing -but somehow younger- strode, leaving only faint impressions in the extremely fine crystalline grains. As he seemed to reach the end of the beach -the dragonets not quite a part of this scene dragged along-, the beach shifted to that of a meadow. Flowers rustled in the breeze, and still, the nightwing continued his trek, yet appeared much more worn, older. He plucked up a petite daisy to smell it...
And he was in a desert. Only faded scales clung wearily to thin structure, his form almost withered away from time and age. His journey was still continuing, his destination not yet reached. He reached an oasis, and took a sip of water. With those few sips, some strength returned to his old bones.
A cave deep set within darkness, only the shivering flame of a quaint candle holding the abyss at bay. In the middle of the crushing blackness, was a small door made from marble and obsidian. The candle's flame was mirrored off its polished reflective surface, a soft amber dot in the middle of the door that held its own pressure.
The nightwing reached for the simple handle, the dragonets' breath held tight. With a c-r-e-a-k, the door swung both inwards and outwards at the same time, the marble outwards, and the obsidian within. The nightwing, more frail bone than mighty dragon, smiled, and mouthed some words the dragonets could not guess. He stepped through the barrier of the strange door.
With a lurching feeling, they were removed from their bespelled state, suddenly back within the simple stone hut. However, there was no nightwing. No hat. No staring eyes. Only a note.
And a map.
Somehow snapping his claws, the nightwing spoke;
"I am [undecipherable gibberish]!" The last part was in discordance, jilted, as if the word that was his name was not meant to exist, much less be heard by mortal ears. The stone walls began to shift, and the all clones faded away into the shadows, but shining purple eyes still rested within, staring. The scenery shifted, to that of a serene beach.
On the soft warm sand, the same nightwing -but somehow younger- strode, leaving only faint impressions in the extremely fine crystalline grains. As he seemed to reach the end of the beach -the dragonets not quite a part of this scene dragged along-, the beach shifted to that of a meadow. Flowers rustled in the breeze, and still, the nightwing continued his trek, yet appeared much more worn, older. He plucked up a petite daisy to smell it...
And he was in a desert. Only faded scales clung wearily to thin structure, his form almost withered away from time and age. His journey was still continuing, his destination not yet reached. He reached an oasis, and took a sip of water. With those few sips, some strength returned to his old bones.
A cave deep set within darkness, only the shivering flame of a quaint candle holding the abyss at bay. In the middle of the crushing blackness, was a small door made from marble and obsidian. The candle's flame was mirrored off its polished reflective surface, a soft amber dot in the middle of the door that held its own pressure.
The nightwing reached for the simple handle, the dragonets' breath held tight. With a c-r-e-a-k, the door swung both inwards and outwards at the same time, the marble outwards, and the obsidian within. The nightwing, more frail bone than mighty dragon, smiled, and mouthed some words the dragonets could not guess. He stepped through the barrier of the strange door.
With a lurching feeling, they were removed from their bespelled state, suddenly back within the simple stone hut. However, there was no nightwing. No hat. No staring eyes. Only a note.
And a map.