Amun’nara…

Amun’nara took herself to have, at the very least, some useable intelligence in her skull, but as she soon discovered, her inability to see the obvious was one day going to be the end of her. In fact, her faux pleasure seeking had nearly cost her hide on multiple occasions, but the creature herself found very little displeasure able about questioning Neon at every decision, snarling at the councils outdated and cumbersome propositions and slaughtering the birthmother of the Alphess (the bitch, had, after all, deserved it in full). The clan, however, saw things so very differently…

‘As the Arkin populace reminds you daily.’

In truth, had the ivory-black dragoness wanted to first, accept, then digest such a sentiment, she would have admitted that after all these years, living amongst and along the stiffened spines of Arkin mountain dwellers had perhaps…grown upon her? No. Or at least, not quite. While the relationship the dark femme had created with the unsuspecting peoples of the mountains had certainly changed since her early morning arrival, Amun’nara had yet to learn the most basic of functions, what those creatures of the dirt and slate clutched so tightly and gave so rarely; trust. But, she had come some distance, to the point where she could travel the intricate marble halls and staircases without so much as a passing rumble to the forms that passed her, though her thoughts raced and her organs seemed to twist and her skull pound against the blunt force of her paranoia. There were times, in her darkest of despair, when the hollowed eyed beast would wish for the damp seclusion of the caves she spent so many years dwelling within; not because such a place was a comfort, but because there was never a need for emotion, only the instinct that to survive called for no such thought, only action without consequence.

The rules seem to change once forced to mingle with the mainstream.

Perhaps, it was such; only instinct that the half-breed would seek such a scarred mass to attempt to temper the equal turmoil of her mind. Amongst the dust and framed by the rejection of time would seem to many as a profound and perhaps even queer way to begin to mend a shattered patience, but these Ruins all but flaunted the monotony of broken promises and unreachable dreams.

‘Such dreaming only wounds the heart.’

Dream. Dreams. Dreaming. Dreamless, how Amun’nara preferred. They slipped from ones mind and past their claws, no matter how pathetic the desperation…oozing past from ones skull in a more grotesque fashion that the foaming layers of salvia at her maw. A sickly tongue passed from the depths of her jowls, not to cleanse the bubbling secretion along her lips and the hook of her bottom jaw, but thrash about like a rabid mutt. And, in a stark truth, not a stance of even a feather along her crown could betray such an observation. Serpentine neck sloped along her hunched shoulders, wolfish snout angled parallel to the earth, water wash gray hollows peered forward, a slight crease at her ebon brows as if the Arkin Deltess was in pursuit of some invisible force. Her shoulder blades jutted from her thick hide as she paced between the crumbling debris, violet spattered plumage erect along her hunched back, tail whipping against her haunches as she flowed, as graceful and unseen as a shadow from between the dragon-made structures (or, at last, what was left of them). The dragoness had seen very little life since her arrival, though she had remained up-wind of any possible threats of passerby’s. The most dangerous thing that she had caught sight or smell of had been a small group of rather ugly birds, which, coincidentally, tasted just as delectable as they appeared. Though a pathetic tid-bit compared to such a behemoth, it did well to awaken the dark beasts hunger and a one of her most favored set of draconic instincts.

As sudden as her chipped intake of breath, Amun’nara arched her neck upwards along her spine, extensive sickle ears curving forward as she searched the grounds before her, jaws snapping together, then apart again in a silent contemplation. Stilling herself, black-ivory lips peeled back along her gums, revealing a healthy set of beautiful canines.

‘My, my, what do we have here? Wonder if it’s alive…But, what a queer colour.’

‘When did that ever stop you?’

With a useless flare of her nostrils, she crept forward, wings rustled against her midnight haunches, in the case that flight was necessary. What laid before the Arkin Deltess was quite possibly the oddest colour she had ever bared witness to. It was as brilliant as the sun, its colour, but quite a small sun at that. The creature was curled up along itself, as if it was attempting to disappear altogether, a tight curl of golden string amongst a tapestry of decay and disgust. While Amun’nara could blend in with such tell-tale surroundings, this tiny sun could not. Tiny sun? Yes, that would a suitable calling until this forms calling, though giving a possible meal a name may seem insensible, but…many things she did could be categorized as such. As her approach came to a halt, her crown lowered, breathe causing a swirl of dust to paint her muzzle in a dull gray, equally dulled eyes locking onto the object of their intention. Saliva drizzled from past her parted lips on the reflex of a possible feast, worm-like tongue slipping from her jowls, wetting her dark scales, “Tiny,” Amun’nara paused, passing her wetting her lips once again, her voice ruff, as she was attempting to talk around a wad of sandpaper, “Tiny sun?”

There's a hole in your soul like an animal,
With no conscience, repentance unknown,
Close your eyes, pay the price for your paradise,
Devils feed on the seeds that are sown.

Amun’nara…

At the ebon beasts grounding murmur, Tiny Sun, as she had dubbed it, began to unfurl from the golden tendrils of its frame. It looked very much to be a miniscule sphere of liquid flaxen, though it’s unflattering…flopping amongst the dust was contrary to such a statement. Mum? It was immediately obvious that this unnatural animal was still in a state of dreamscape, though such rational did little to erase the queer look of guilt that softened her pronounced features. It was mistake, the Deltess certainly was able to understand (and did, you see, constant paranoia does that to you), but when was the last instance in which she had been dubbed as anything but a devil? Beast. Murderer. Sinner.

‘Well, NeoN.’

Hah. That dragon was far to trusting for his own good. Hell, he had let creep her way into Arkin’s belly, so there wasn’t all that much playing in his favor. Either way, it left the dusky skin across her shoulders to tight for comfort.

Back to reality. Rather quickly, Amun’nara noted sourly, did her potential lunch began to take on a more recognizable form; that of a spindly dragoness. Though, this dull amusement had no connection to the sharp squawk that was emitted from her maw, which cracked together with a minute explosion of spittle at her gray gums, before drizzling by force of gravity to the parched earth. Hunkering backwards, weakly hued hallows peered at the small creature, feathered sails spread defensively at the speed in which it turned to face her. Thin lips peeled backwards upon themselves, saliva secreting down along her jaws in a mask of animalistic surprise, thick violet plumage erect over her skull in a silent threat. As if in a stressful attempt to make the situation as outrageously awkward as possible, the fae turned that slickly hued crown her, large, sapphire shards serving for eyes as they gazed into her own with barley concealed, nearly sparkling mirth. The contrast between the two femme’s expressions must have been so stark that it could have struck a lesser creature blind.

‘Maybe Tiny Sun has been struck with heat sickness?’

‘Perhaps it’s just damn stupid. Or insane. My bet goes to both, dear.’

It was then, when Tiny Sun decided it proper to introduce…herself that Amun’nara glared around her, wry skull swiveling about her vertebra, in attempts to find a reason for this creatures jubilant appearance. Had some other dragon lost their pet? It was ridiculously apparent that she had no ability to take any reasonable care of herself. If she, this tiny golden fae of the sun, could not comprehend the danger of a salivating beast, many times her size, staring her down with canines plainly bared, then she had no business even breathing outside of her hollow. But, then again, Amun’nara came to these ruins not to engage into a conflict with harmless pests, but to manage her temper.

Unfortunately, the black-ivory Deltess restrained her from any action that to simply breath deep and attempt to listen.

In, what seemed to be the same quip, Amun’nara gleaned a few aiding facts in the survival of…Zabby’s company. But, it seemed she didn’t have the ability to close that fragile maw once they had been opened. It would be, nearly ironically simplistic for her to tear that jaw from her faceplate...Then again, it would also be rude. She meant very little harm, it seemed, and was rather elated that one was actually within her company. The pure innocence of this dragoness nearly seeped from the gaps among her glorious scales, in which she had a difficult time labeling as either sickly endearing, or enough to drive one to insanity. The feeling of actually having a choice in which emotion to act upon was a blessing in itself. Rather pleasant, really. At the juvenile expectance of Zabby’s gaze, Amun’nara grunted, crescent-carved ears laying flat against her crown, “Rude? Nonsense, I woke you,” Shifting her weight, the Deltess’s tongue slapped at her lips, drawing them into a tight sneer of displeasure, “Count yourself lucky…Zabby? I was about to eat you.” There was nothing but an absolute in her tone; the statement of facts as they unfolded, no guilt or regret that they nearly occurred.

The difference must have been startling, that one could take something as minute as the colour of these two creatures; the tints of their hides could nearly match, quid for quos, the translucency of their souls. Amun’nara, the shade of black-ivory, had a heart as dusky and hueless as so; she had slaughter dragons of all ages and intelligences, mocked them as they witness their children’s skulls shatter from between her jaws…her paranoia ruled every breath and passing though that knocked about her head. She was as loyal as a lion protecting his Pride, and as unstable as a dormant volcano, her anger as heated as her victims blood, which flowed as freely and fluidly as lava from the earth’s core. Understood what it meant to taste the seduction of freedom, but somehow longed for the companionship of bondage. If nothing else, Amun’nara had mastered how to survive, but failed to ever live. An inaudible sigh passed from her flaring nostrils, gray hollows half-lidding as she peered from beneath her onyx scales, “Did I frighten you? If so, I would be the one guilty of being, as you said, rude.” Settling herself back upon her body haunches, the Deltess tipped her muzzle to the smaller female, violet plumage stilling slightly along her spine, “I am Amun’nara of Arkin.”

‘My Gods, what is she talking about?’

It was, as if some switch had been trigger within the tiny gold’s mind, one that prevented her to shut her mouth. Amun’nara, would have naturally been annoyed, or, on her worse days, absolutely furious that someone dare ruin her silent moment, but it seemed, that this day, the sweet winds brought their share of surprises. You see, those who even dared to speak with the Deltess did so because they had to, for some monotonous political reason or another, and those who did so out of curiosity were soon so startled by her…well, they were just scared shitless. But, Zabby did so without even a batted eyelash and disclosed such simple pleasures that many would never retell. Amun’nara nearly felt obliged to answer her question, though it was unknown if it was anything more than rhetorical, “Many hatchling’s colour shifts after their first molting. I had always been told that I had hatched with whiter hide than snow.” A chuckled shook her ribcage, though it felt worn against the aged ivory of her bones. The laugh (if that’s what you wish to dub it) wasn’t a partially comfortable sound, in fact; it had the quality of hoarse cackle, like a further aged Wicked Witch of the West from Ozian folklore.

Snorting, Amun’nara frowned at the young golding, “Stop with your damn apologies, if you came to chat with high class idiots, you certainly chose the wrong dragon to speak to.”

There's a hole in your soul like an animal,
With no conscience, repentance unknown,
Close your eyes, pay the price for your paradise,
Devils feed on the seeds that are sown.