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07-28-2013, 01:11 AM
Flap. The great golden beast was accelerated through the skies. Flap. Her path followed the trail of testosterone and masculinity across the open air, her eyes drinking the sight before her with a hunger that gurgled up from the depths of her very soul. Flap. With a rumbling assent as her mate lead her to an area that would hold larger prey, the DragonHeart was a shining golden arrow of sinew and scales above her home. It was not the death that would result from this interaction that would cure, or aid to cure, her despairing grief. No, it would be the journey, the rush, the adrenalin and the thrill that would aid in washing away those dark, depressing thoughts. They would not disappear completely, no, quite the opposite - they would be brought to the fore of her mind, exposed for all to see - for all to destroy. They would feast on the flesh of a poor mammal today, something that Mirage the mare did not find any joy in - but Mirage the DragonHeart needed it, so that she could continue on living this life she had designed for herself. Flap. Akaith trilled as she led the hoardes of smaller dragons, a spurt of fire bursting from her maw as she grumbled some of the bolder followers into line. This hunt was not theirs - it was her bonded's, and her bonded's mate's. Bronze and gold will fly tonight, they will fly well, and true. They will be cleansed. Her thoughts reverberated through the strings of her heart, likely singing loud and clear to those sensitive to it within their own souls and mind. Flap. The smell of blood entered her nostrils. The sound of a many heartbeats - a herd, a flock? - thrummed against her scaly ears. The DragonHeart flew onwards, her shadow swallowing the forms of the prey that would run beneath it. The mare inside of her pleaded her to take the weakest, the sickest of the creatures below her - but she was Mirage the DragonHeart, and only by the direction of her mate did she fly right now. Excitement fuelled her bodice, as ripples of muscle cascaded down her aerodynamic form, and an impatient groan-growl rumbled from her once again, as she snarled at her mate, in a way that was surely affectionate in some distant, forgotten draconic language. |
