Abandoned! (Open)
Toothless made an indignant sound as he was hauled up by his scruff, instinct paralyzing him into a limp compliance. The moment his feet settled into the warm pocket between two mighty wings, he was began chirping in alarm, jabbering soft noises and pacing, trying to find a way down. Not only had his plan been foiled, but now he was far higher up than he’d ever hope to get down on his own, wings still too underdeveloped for anything but fluttering.
A small shift in posture, and the hatchling was pressing his belly to the heated plating, claws digging into whatever cracks and crevices they could find. And then the heat started seeping in to his tender underside.
An involuntary purr found its way out of his throat, and before he knew what he was doing his body had curled itself up in a perfect ball, soaking in the hothothot wafting from the creature’s metal form.
Predaking kept up his rumble, even as he shifted in discomfort when the organic dug claws into sensitive seams. Still, the claws were not large and the organic soon desisted. Apparently, such small organics enjoyed the heat produced by such a large-framed Predacon as he in the same fashion that youngling Predacons enjoyed it.
While no Predacon had ever been larger than he, those who chose to go to the Well and have a creation given over to their care tended to be larger than those who did not, and concomitantly gave off more than the usual amount of heat. He supposed he could have gone to the Well himself, but he had never felt the need.
Still, the youngling appeared to have settled in nicely, judging from the vibrations now emanating from it. Standing, he shifted and flexed his wings to ensure that the hollow was not going to be shifted unduly if he flew. When he was satisfied, he crouched and pushed off, flapping heavily for the sky and freedom.
Toothless chirred, interest immediately aroused by the sudden lift-off. He was too young to fly, with thin, under-developed wings, and his mama had never settled him on her back this way. Finnials perked and sleepiness forgotten, the hatchling swiveled his head this way and that as the metal beast cut gracefully through the night air.
A happy set of noises -something between a bark and a chirp- left his throat as he clamored about on in his spot between those great wings, and he stretched his own outwards, relishing the cool air whipping past them. He was flying!
Mouth open in an almost-grin, he swished his tail in pleasure, before ducking down and rubbing his head against the metal plating like a cat. The warm surface was pleasant, and he pressed his belly to it, scrubbing as much of his body as he could into the heated surface, the way squirmy younglings were wont to do with anything that struck their fancy.
