HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun
[O] my brother boomslang [hatching] - Printable Version

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my brother boomslang [hatching] - Toulouse - 02-18-2017


Resolve is never stronger than in the morning
after the night It was never weaker


Basking in the sun; that's what a serpent did best.
after a lengthy morning of patrols, Toulouse had transformed his daily break into a sun shower session and laid lengthways atop the boulder enveloping his hilltop hollow.
The specter grimaced at the thought of working further, of tending to the leeches beyond their boarders and the threats that remained. But once again, those nightmares filled his thoughts. A chaotic Helovia would never be a grand one, and while he had seen Kisamoa toss Nyx aside like she was a feather he couldn't help but wonder if that kind of strength could be harnessed. The beast could not be trusted, yet Father Earth had neglected to mention anything about him. Why had he not warned them!?
Treachery was around every corner, stirring behind every tree limb and creeping between the vines of their home. Who they could trust and who they could not was not as obvious any longer.

CRACK
The violent sound, as vibrant as a bone break teased the geldings ear backwards in it's direction. Crackling, scratching and a struggle was heard in adjacent shrubbery - but what on earth made such a noise? It was not  a beast, nor any kind of predator. Eyes feeling their way around his sunbed, Toulouse's gaze finally narrowed on the wriggling grass at the foot of a weedy sapling on a boulder, the kind that wouldn't grow far at all given it's poor choice in ground.
An egg. A shaking, snapping and crackling egg.
Pushing himself upwards to lean on his side the specter watched with great awe as the leaf-coloured scales began to emerge, and soon a brilliant flickering tongue. A snake.
Toulouse grinned his devilish smile, eyes of ice cronning over the tonge-like creature as it slithered along the ground and coiled upwards over his leg.
"Boomslang" The man hissed to the little creature, giving it the name of a hostile and highly venemous snake from his homeland. A fine creature was the constrictor that now graced his back, twisting up his neck and wrapping its way around one of his horns. Boomslang took his place upon the crown and flicked his tongue, looking deeply into the eyes of his first friend.


ooc; Boomslang has hatched, Toulouse's green ratsnake companion! come say hullo if you like!


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