.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
05-25-2016, 03:01 PM
Crimson orbs eventually moved to scan closely over his draconian form, scaled and horned head curves to look over ivory tinted claws, the crests upon his neck and spinal column rippling with the motion. The spines raise, and the fleshy membranes bare themselves like proud banners. He is small, but there is greatness and potential within his small frame. Now the wolf is dead at his feet, it's blood pooling out of the teeth shaped gashes marking it's matted neck, amber eyes wide open with lingering expressions of horror and fear within it's feral gaze, he can take the time to better acquaint himself with it. While it was crude instinct which spurned the magic to roar to life in an explosion of fire and ash, in later life it will be his will and his fury which ignites his body to take the form of a King. Now it is small, summoned by necessity to ensure that the colt survived, it will grow. Grow and blot out the sun as he soars his aerial dominion, the small horns upon his head will crown him as royalty. If he had known about his older siblings, siblings which had done nothing to warrant their fathers pride and lure excitement from his bones, his own gut would of swelled with smugness and pride of his own that he had beaten them at something. For now, he is the only one within his world that is his father's son. When he encounters the others, which no doubt he will, the dragon-child will accept them, with a healthy dose of competition. Tyrath's examination of himself is paused when his father speaks, his attention immediately shifting back to the leviathan in front of him and his dragon's. The question is a simple one, and horned head tilts as he nods. "Yes." It's an equally simple reply, though his youthful voice is tainted by the guttural lilt brought on by his draconian form. "I didn't know I could do it. I felt it though, I think, when I looked at your Dragon's." Eyes go from red to gold, and back again. "A sort of humming, in my blood." Scythe like tail curled towards his equally sharp taloned feet, the sail like membranes shifting against the grass and dirt. "I like it." He liked the power, is the unsaid tag-on, but it coats his words like a warm blanket on a cold night. It raises new questions, tied in with his desire to know about Volterra's dragons. The savage red and the regal gold. He is gold as well, he can turn into one of them. "Could you tell me about Dragon's, pa?" No doubt his father has a wealth of information upon them, and he's eager to learn it. The desire to have dragon by his side has tripled, imagine! his own form heralded by the very beasts themselves. "talk talk talk" from the ashes of the sun I arise
a herald of ruin and damnation |
@Volterra
![[Image: tyrath_by_bronzehalo_d9yw5wg_by_arahvir-d9yx9ov.png]](http://orig07.deviantart.net/1336/f/2016/104/9/c/tyrath_by_bronzehalo_d9yw5wg_by_arahvir-d9yx9ov.png)
