XYLIA
Just as another was, I was woken by the faint presence, a presence heavily reminiscent of the immaterial spiritual invaders of the body; not a ghost, or spirit, but a god, a divine immortal being who saw little but a good pastime invading the body of a creature, no matter how withered or youthful the said creature might be. Yet the thin line seeming to twist my consciousness was certainly not a god, as it didn't keep the passionate feeling of arrogance reminiscient in them all, regardless of who they were. Rain gods were quiet, thunder gods brutal, ocean gods unpredictable, sun gods good-natured, earth gods logical, and river gods strange, but they all had the sin of vanity. Never was there an exception to their egoistic ways.
It was something one simply learned to suffer through when seized by the gods. Their arrogance, their pride, their hardly sufferable all-knowingness; the exploding dams of memories that flooded the mind upon possession. Possession was no concept to me- it was (had been, not that I was aware of it) a very real, very dangerous thing that could swiftly kill you within a heartbeat or two, or even worse. Shred your mind for example; incinerate you; one could always implode through the force of the memories; stop breathing. Whatever you thought of.
But this sense I cautiously felt out was just a thread over the obliviating powers of the gods, a delicate thread still being woven. Blind, deaf, and lost, I rose to my feet, long slender tail brushing the sand undoubtedly turned milk-white from the lack of the sun, and stepped forward, wings searching gently for the orb I had found many weeks ago, the orb I thought was an egg, and imagined as a creamy white. In my silence to the world, every delicate touch and scent portrayed an image to me, a clear vision that I filled in with my own touches of color and hearing.
I did not see, nor smell, the mare far away doing the same, in the desert home. I had hidden my pale egg by the wet sand shores of the ocean, buried it with painstaking slowness, and now, out of some intuition, had removed it the day earlier. I tilted my head down to it, let my soft, long-whiskered muzzle rove over it, the satiny smooth eggshell.
Eggshell?
I hissed in a breath, and searched around for the small animal in it with increasing desperation, until I found it through the delicate thread weaving between us. I felt it, the smooth dampness of a wiry coat, broad hind legs, a thick rudder-like tail, a dog-like face, in mild surprise. I didn't think dogs hatched from eggs. Who knows what games the gods do play, however? Perhaps they fool with me. I just wish I could see this small animal, beyond just feeling it, and just like that a flare of color bursts up in my blinded eyes. Pale tan fur. White stripes. Black stripes. A massive jaw. Then the image fades, despite my desperate attempts to cling to it. How? Did the animal, whose connection to me tentative, send it to me? Had I finally found a way to cheat the gods out of stealing my senses?
"Ildiko," I breath, with a slight grin. I didn't have to fumble around in the dark looking for a name- I knew. The boy, the pup or cub, liked it. I could feel it. Ildiko, a deraritive of Iris, the goddess of vision, and Dirko, the king of life. It was perfect.
Ancient || Dragon Throat || Pegasus
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Little one. [Companion hatching thread, open]
