@somebluebotsandbadjokes - [x]
Drogon’s optics light up, the dragonlet whipping his helm upwards, sending the metal flying off. In response to his neck being freed, Drogon promptly whips around, scorching the bands around his wings.
“Bad! Bad bad bad metal, no like! Want food.”
He grumbles, apparently not caring that he’s still in enemy territory.
“Bud, we’ll get you some fuel. We need to find your sister first.”
Turquoise says in the most unscolding tone imaginable.
“Easy, calm down and don’t--” Ironhide begins, only to huff in defeat. Apparently Drogon’s got the other bands taken care of. Hopefully the bitlet won’t burn himself.
Giving a groan, Ironhide rolls himself away from the hole in the wall and onto his back to look up at Turquoise. Sister. Right. Just how many kids does Turquoise have again? He should probably ask. Instead he rolls again, enough for him to pull himself back to his pedes with another groan. He’s too old for this scrap.
“Alright,” he says once fully upright. “What next?”