🔪— With that he zoomed off on his 3dmg. What he was attempting to do was swing around a few branches, swing around meaning 360 degrees. He knew he could do it with three, but this time he was going big. He was going for five. Successfully he made it around the first three, and the fourth as well. But, as he grew overly confident, he anchored his maneuvering gear in the wrong tree and ended up hitting his crotch right against the branch.
ツ = Does the character steal the covers or has the covers stolen off them?☯ = Any odd sleeping habits?
As long as she’s covered up enough, she won’t pull them off of her bed mate. However, she will get up and fight for them if her bed mate pulls them from her. She can’t sleep unless she’s covered up. If she doesn’t feel covered up enough, she can’t sleep.
Drabble? Uh Fantasy AU - DragonShifter Reiner and Bertl the lil villager that is fated to be Reiner's Rider. Uuuuuh prolly has lil dragon kids here n there cuz #reproduceinstinct? Go~
He hadn't expected him to look normal. He hadn't been wrong in his expectations.
His eyes were a sharp gold, narrow and searching, the heavy crease of his brow telling of wars and bloodshed of a magnitude Berthold could only fall into in the deepest of troubled sleeps. He was old, he knew, they'd told him. They'd told him exactly, and it terrified him. He terrified him.
Two riders had previously shouldered the task. He would be the third. No matter how much he felt the scream rise inside him, unreleased and thrashing, how much he ran over his selection over and over, it was him.
Standing at just over six feet tall, he looked more beast than man at present. That too would change, he'd been informed, when they made their pact. The proper one. The one that held the true power, not the worded promises and the trade of flesh he was currently bound under. Glancing down at his left hand, he flexed the stump of his little finger, straining the raw pink flesh that was still trying to knit as he did so. What they'd done with the finger after his oath had been sealed, he didn't know. It hadn't been at the forefront of his mind at the time, clouded with pain and screaming anxiety as he had been. Thinking back on it, a wave of nausea crashed in his stomach, tightening his fist in a bid to quell the rising panic.
"You look like my first." It was the first time Berthold had heard him speak, and the low rumble of his voice caught him off guard in his heightened state. "He was from your town, also." Unsure of how to respond, Berthold instead forced himself to look at him. If he was beautiful or horrifying, he didn't know. Both perhaps, or maybe he just happened to walk a thin line between the two. Golden scales, curved and polished like fine armour, covered the back of his neck and jaw, traveling up over temples and brow to meet over his nose. They fanned out over his cheekbones too, all the way up to the very edge of his eye. This perhaps was where they were most discomforting, for as the patch of glowing gold traveled down his cheek, invading the softer, fleshier part, they had come loose, leaving in their wake a series of elliptical marks; pitted and pink against the otherwise unmarred skin. A few glistened gold as new scales grew in, as if someone had embedded a grain of rice there. It was disquieting.
From his town? But they hadn't produced a rider in over fifty years, and she had been bound to a female. Unless- He looked Reiner over again, searching for any sign that he had once been anything other than male. It wasn't unheard of for a shifter to change gender if the bond with their rider was right. This didn't seem to be the case with Reiner however. How long had he been unbound? The way he smiled, the sharpness of his teeth, the way his irises were slightly too large to be normal- the distinct lack of human nature, as if it had been learned, not practiced. No, Reiner had been rouge for a long time. How he had he presentable humanity that he did... Berthold didn't want to think about.
He could see nothing but the flickering fire at his feet, illuminating nothing, but still dancing in some unfelt breeze. In, around, beyond him, the darkness pressed further into him, forcing it's way into his skull in silence as the horror in his chest started to build.
"Are you prepared to give yourself?"
No
"To surrender freely what years remain to you?"
No
"Do you give your heart, for humanity?"
No
Reiner's eyes, far bigger than they had any right to be, too close, yet still at a horrifying distance from him, loomed in the darkness. Golden, alive, old, slit pupil'd. Inhuman. Berthold hear his own voice in the darkness, although he never felt his lips move. The word echoed in their infinite space. His true name. Unwilling and unbidden, he reached up to place his hand over his chest. His left one, the one they had mutilated in order for him to make this pact. His palm flat against his chest, he could feel his heart beating rapidly against his ribs, hammering for release. He allowed it.
Easily it slipped from him, leaving no wound or mark to acknowledge it's passing. It pulsed in his grasp, blue and faceted, still warm with his life's blood, like cut glass heated by the sun. A chasm opened up on the other side of the flame, hot, red and sickeningly organic. With a sigh, something small and withered tumbled from deep within the putrid space. Her name had not been Annie.
He knew that to offer his gift, he must step forward, through the flame, not around. And so he did. The dancing yellow tongues licked at his nakedness, cold, unreal and unfriendly, but he knew at once that they would not harm him. Not any more. Reaching forward, he offered Reiner all he had, knowing it would never be enough to quench a need too old for words or understanding; that he was merely one more sea smoothed stone on a shore of thousands, and somehow it was comforting.
As Reiner took his heart, swallowing it deep within his chest, he allowed Berthold to exact his payment. A single word, his own true name, thereby gifting his rider with the knowledge and power to command him, to own him.
Nanaba kept to herself mostly. it worked out fine, most people avoided her as well, it was something she had expected. Even if you were a refugee, she was still from the fire nation, still seemed warmer to the touch, still in many ways the enemy. It wasn't all bad, They didn't really hate her and Nanaba respected their bias, the young woman never pushed their boundaries, she didn't push to be heard. The city got a lot of refugees from all walks of the earth. The Northern water tribes even had a few of their own living within the comfortable mercantile town. Nanaba had known of a few water benders that came from the damaged countryside, gutted by the fire nation. Nanaba didn't know them all, but the most prominent would have to be Mike Zacharius.
She had only been in the small down of Jinae for too long before she realized he seemed to easily help anyone. He was a strong character for most of the people here, a supporting man who helped many who came for help. She couldn't help but admire him for that. Sidestepping a pot hole forged in the thick rains the night before, she looked over to him, biting into the steamed bun she had made for herself that morning. Nanaba didn't approach him, she had been introduced when the blond moved there, a shake of his hand, a greeting, But perhaps she worried him....Nanaba had looked too long into his eyes, trying to remember his face and couldn't...he couldn't be from...No. She looked away from him quickly and nodded, "Sorry, it's very nice to meet you."
That was almost two months ago, she had still barely spoken more of a handful of words to him. No, sitting across the large park like square, nanaba tucked her legs under her as she sat on the stone bench, continuing to eat the warm bun and idly watch the young children laughing and chasing dragonflies in front of her, only occasionally would her gaze drift back towards him and the group that laughed beside him.
"Are you going to do anything for the New Blossom festivals Mike? Seems everyone has a job they've been assigned to do but you and a few others, your not trying to duck out of responsibility right? Everyone chips in!" One of the villages slapped him on the shoulder, snickering.
"Who's idea was it to have kids again?" Not his, for sure. "Can't you handle her?" Strictly speaking it was his turn, but he was hopeful that Mike might have forgotten.
