caitlin and i revamped a roleplay that captivated our hearts. in february of 2017, i opened an appless roleplay that was sort of an off-brand game of thrones / lord of the rings / eragon. i didnât think it would go anywhere, really. especially when all the apps i was getting were female characters. ( no tea, no shade. ) until i got our very first male application, for the king of bearoria: nathaniel robert winnell. from then on, caitlin has proven to be one of my best friends. and stuck through me with everything that went down. two weeks after sovereignty first opened, i asked her to be a fellow admin. a great decision but come two weeks later ( a month after sovereignty opened ), my laptop breaks down.Â
that was the end of sovereignty 1.0. but after a small revamp and a fixed laptop, sovereignty 2.0 was born. we were excited to get our characters + the plot going again. while we didnât know if previous members would return ( we messaged every single member to come back ), we welcomed the new ones with open arms. & five months later, here we are with an even larger family and still, an active dash.Â
caitlin and i have put a lot of work into this roleplay but really, this group wouldnât be standing if it werenât for our amazing members. so itâs because of you that we have been one of the longest appless roleplays in the tags ! thank you so much for never losing muse, never giving up on your admins and just being ultimately amazing members. we appreciate you guys so much and love you like our own children. words cannot amount to how much yâall mean to us so please.. take this as a token of our love and gratitude.Â
some of you have seen the survey so.. YES !! we are bringing back new abilities ! consider this our anniversary gift to you all ! weâve listened to you guysâ ideas about what abilities youâd like to see and decided to add them to our list. for any new members, this is how it goes down: you like the post if you wish to participate in our random drawing. weâll be randomly picking several characters ( while taking into account their activity as well ) and gifting them some abnormal abilities. recipients are required to write a self paragraph on their character developing such abilities ( tag it as: sov.task ). if you need any ideas on how they discovered their abilities, let us know !
as of right now, we already have some: adrian calvierri ( animal bond w/ a gryffin ) brynjolf mallory ( retrocognition ), charlotte rowe ( elf ), purnelle hawthorne ( siren ), and sybil beaumont ( necormancy ).Â
KEY NOTE: THESE ABILITIES ARE FOR NON-ROYALS ONLY !
with that being said, the following abilities weâre giving out are:
ANIMAL BONDING
this ability depends on the animal; the animal will be able to understand your thoughts, wishes, and wants. while the said person doesnât have the ability to control the animalâs actions, itâs more of an abnormally close friendship between the two. think of eragon and saphira, except the animal wouldnât be able to speak back to said character. while this is a controlled ability, please remember that this is a BOND, meaning it happens over time. for example, the said animal wouldnât be able to fully understand everything said character wants on their first introduction. itâs a budding friendship so it grows within time. please note that this isnât with an entire species but one special creature. message the main with what animal you desire from the creatures page. this character is HUMAN so they can perish the same ways a human can.
DREAM MANIPULATION
the ability to alter or manipulate oneâs dreams. think of pitch from rise of the guardians ! this ability would need to consult with their targetâs mun before application because we do not allow any god-modding whatsoever. the techniques range from entering oneâs dreams to giving their target nightmares. but like the many other abilities, this dream strengthens with every application. so said chosen character may only be able to enter a dream at first before progressing into a more advanced technique. however, please take note that doing such an act would take a lot of energy out of the user-- especially if theyâre new to the ability. this character is HUMAN so they can perish the same ways a human can.
MAGICAL ITEMS
there are some items throughout zenan that have sold for exceptionally high and can only be found on the black market. there are tall tales of these items, two that are notorious: the invisibility cloak and ebony steel.Â
THE INVISIBILITY CLOAK has been a myth for centuries. floating in and out of the black market and being owned by many owners. the cloak, while worn, gives the allusion that the wearer is invisible to the rest of the world. despite being invisible, if touched by someone, they will be able to feel said person underneath a cloak. ( think of harry potter and his cloak. )Â
EBONY STEEL is the rarest of steels throughout zenan. in fact, thereâs not many swords left that have been crafted by it. ( i.e. literally no swords left. ) but perhaps your character found some and has decided to have a sword made from it ?? giving them one of the strongest swords in all of zenan and teshayra. ( think valyrian steel from game of thrones. )
the bearers of these items are HUMAN so they can perish the same ways a human can.
4 lucky characters will be chosen for the abilities above. the abilities will be given in order as shown. so the first person the generator chooses will get the animal bonding, the second would get dream manipulation and so on. SO WITH THAT BEING SAID, if you wish to participate, please like this post + respond with your charactersâ names if you have multiple !Â
one again, happy 5 month anniversary, sovereignty family ! we love you all so much.
          HER FATHER STANDS AT THE HELM OF THE SHIP, looking out to what will soon be his. she does not recognize the look on his face. itâs something so ugly; borne of anger and and jealousy. a year ago, when she was nothing but a princess of pretty gowns and heavy crowns, his expression wouldâve sent a shiver up her spine. now, she almost mirrors him.
          â land ho !! â
          she lifts her gaze to glance up at the man in the nest. â father, â she says gently, a hand on his arm. â we grow near. â
         he nods. she wishes she could be like him â unfaltering in his decision. so⊠resolute. she had her doubts â here they were invading the land of those that freed them from the pirates â but, ultimately, pandora had decided her father was right. they had to take zenan for themselves. thereâs nothing left for them in teshayra; nothing left of them in teshayra. there was ash and rubble and corpses.
         â look, â he says as he gazes outward. his voice is menacingly low. if he hadnât exuded the power of that of a seasoned king, one mightâve thought he was mumbling. â we give them onewarning shot. â
         she turns over her shoulder to ensure her fatherâs will is done. pandoraâs eyes meet that of a crew member. she recalls his name is ali, or abrahim â something like that. the man nods immediately before running off with a shout, â run a shot âcross the bow !! his highness commands it !! â
         seconds after, a loud boom is heard. the sounds is deafening. she almost stumbles at the cannon fire but her father catches her arm. he gives her a stern look. â donât, â he warns. donât give them a reason to turn against you.
         although shaken, she nods. then, pandora looks. she almost voices how similar it seems to teshayraâs coasts. the coast on which their castle once stood. how the water resembles the waves she and hector gazed longingly upon once. but she doesnât. not for the fear that she sounds like the frivolous little girl she once was.
         from the corner of her eye, pandora notices that abrahim / ali / whoever he is has returned. he stands surprisingly close to her fatherâs side. pandora sends him a dirty look. he seems not to care.
         â drop anchor. â her father commands to the pirate. â ensure the other three follow suit. â both pandora and the man turn over their shoulders to look at the three other warships that trail behind them. their flotilla is small â their numbers had suffered after the year in which she and her father were held â but her father insists itâll be enough to take their first country.
if this is to end in fire then we should all burn together
an emeline siobhan mireen self para.
the mood is somber tonight. it has been, for more than a fortnight. and despite the responsibilities resting on her shoulders-- the promises she carelessly promised to people. emeline is lost. sheâd accepted refugees into her kingdom, people with the potential to harm her or her people and yet-- she needed to leave. get out of dracborough, leave the heat. itâs too much, now. the gods have yet to give her a sign of what she should do, she hadnât even met with king henry on how to fix the mess that nathaniel ( may he rest in peace ) left the world in. though, she supposes, she cannot blame him. but because of this conclusion, she feels angry with him-- for leaving her with the burden of fixing everything or giving her the option to watch the world burn.
the latter seems tempting but she knows what he would want-- she knows what the right thing to do is. and yet, here she stands across ysellian who looks at her warily. never had she visited him at such a late time. but she itches to leave. having not heard much from the kradaecans or the bearorians, perhaps she ought to see it for herself. it takes her but quick time to straddle the back of the charcoal colored dragon and soon, she is off into the night.Â
itâs a peaceful ride, slow and quiet. almost as if ysellian knows of her clenched heart, how pained sheâd been. and sheâs grateful that the beast can read her so well, perhaps even better than her own advisors who speak the common tongue. green hues peer down at the ground, ignoring the cloud that whisks passed them. itâs dark, making it difficult to see. her hands grip the spikes along his back tightly, urging him lower to the ground. without much protest, he lowers himself, giving her a better view of the land before her. thereâs trees that they loom above and it takes her but several seconds to recognize the forbidden forest.Â
soon enough, she catches the small torches that light up the kingdom of bearoria. sheâs careful to keep them at a considerable distance, hoping no guards or scouts spot them. the ride is silent, nothing to be heard but the whoosh of ysellianâs wings. it feels odd, sheâd expected burning of the huts and anarchy but instead, it looks normal. as if there had been no invasion to begin with. which all the more angers her and with a push of her legs, she pushes her dragon to fly west, in hopes to leave bearoria, or what looks like bearoria.
her hair breezes in the wind and her eyes water from the speed. suddenly, the flapping of ysellianâs wings can no longer be heard, instead theyâre being overlapped by the rush of waves from the great black sea. the smell of salt reaches her senses that cause her to reminisce of her times back in teshayra and she wonders, what is to come with the mess of the teshayra king ?
suddenly, the bow that hangs on her back seems awfully heavy as she approaches the familiar castle. she thinks of how frequently she would visit as a little girl, coming with her father to meet the royals at every kingdom and prepare herself for her queenly duties. sheâd come to know the castle inside and out, even before adair was even born. ysellian circles the castle numerous times before they settle near a balcony that overlooks the pitch black ocean. his flapping of wings causes the grass to shiver underneath which serves as a ruckus. and itâs only at that ruckus does the king emerge from his chambers, stepping onto the balcony.Â
her bow is in front of her now, an arrow dipped in flaahvra ( a poisonous flower from the lands of teshayra. ) juice aimed right at the manâs head. there are no words exchanged between them. they know what is to come. it feels hours have passed as she sits atop ysellian, an arrow pointed at the usurper whoâd come to disrupt their peace. thereâs hesitation from emeline, to which the king notices and the slightest of smirks is what triggers her. what pushes her to the edge. her fingers release the string, watching as the arrow swiftly flies through the air, effortlessly, silently and impales the man who falls on his adairâs balcony floor immediately.Â
there are no words left to be said, she feels no remorse for the death she caused. for the murder sheâd done. she feels nothing as ysellian takes off into the night once more, heading south to their home in the fire.
âYes-- We will be rid of these pirates and take back our home.â
It happened so quickly. The man was witnessing his daughter being beaten repeatedly. A scene he was far used to after being the piratesâ prisoner for a little over a year ( or so it seemed ), he could hardly tell how much time has passed since the pirates ransacked their three kingdoms. Soon there was a shout that seemed to catch his daughterâs abuserâs attention. The pirateâs scarred face whipped up in curiosity before he exited the tent hastily.Â
âAre you alright, dear?â But all he could get was a grunt in response.Â
He did his best to listen in on the commotion going on outside while his daughter laid in pain. Though his hearing was strained from the many beatings he took, he managed to catch several words that stood out: king, escaped, wolf, dead.Â
He was far too aware of the Zenan royals that traveled across The Unforgiving Ocean ( the black sea ) to avenge their people. Was it possible that the people of Zenan were winning this war? Would they be saved?Â
As many charging footsteps ran near their tent, the man crawled close to the opening, peering outside to feed his interest. There was a lack of guards by their tent and suddenly, a sliver of hope appeared in his heart. His hands were still bound but he quickly nudged his daughter awake.Â
âWe have to leave now. Before they return. Hurry, darling.âÂ
Perhaps she was obedient or perhaps she was far too weak to even question her father but the young woman stood up anyway. His daughter leaned majority of her body on him to which he struggled with but managed to get them out of the tent. As he noticed the clear absence of pirates, he tugged his daughter towards the woods, following the roaring sound of those familiar waves.
Their pace was slow, cautious. And there was something in him that told him to turn back, go back to the tent and do not tempt death more than he already had. Though his gaze reverted to his daughter whose face was swollen from the prior abuse she endured. Seeing her in such a state fueled him to pick up the pace. Not to mention the various shouts that resonated from the camp behind them.Â
They were running now, sprinting. His eyes were focused on the view ahead of them, ignoring the trees that sped passed them, his daughterâs jaded grunts, and the hurried steps following them. His vision blurred with tears of relief as he recognized the castle just a few yards in front of them.Â
âWe are nearly there, I promise,â he reassured his daughter, tugging her harshly as they emerged from the forest.
Though their victory was short-lived as guards of Zenan surrounded them. Swords at the ready, nothing but anger and hatred covering their features. The man raised his bounded hands in surrender, peering behind him in hopes that the pirates hadnât followed them this far.
âPlease! Kill us not!â
A guard speaks for the rest, his voice muffled from his armor. âWho are you? State your business!â
âI am the King of Teshayra and this is my daughter. We are the rightful rulers of this land!â
â the flowers on the cliff shall save us all. â
self-para.Â
IT WAS STRANGE being in a four-poster bed again. bryn hadn't slept on anything but a straw mattress --- and sometimes just straw --- since his title had been stripped all of those years ago, and being under feather-filled blankets with his head on a down pillow was like heaven, and he was sleeping better than he had in years. he dreamed of the future rather than the past, and the undertones of his dreams were not negative as they used to be --- for once, brynâs future was BRIGHT, and he looked forward to waking up rather than dreading it.
but soon his dreams began to mingle with reality, and the line between what was real and what wasnât began to blur and twist with an uncontrolled fervor. bryn woke with a start, but he did not feel afraid of the emptiness in his chest --- for he was not himself. just as he had done so many times before in the past months, he realized the skin he was in was not that of his own body, and as he stood from the bed without thought or control, his inner mind SCREAMED to be released from the prison it had been locked in, his mind choosing instead to inhabit one of the past. but there was only one thing to do, and bryn knew it --- he had to wait it out, and witness whatever his gods-forsaken curse ability had in store for him.
his hands were soft and supple, not anything like his own rough ones, which were callused and hardened from years of work in the harsh elements; his hair was short and trimmed, and there was none of his usual stubble on his face. his muscles didnât feel sore, but his mind --- or whoeverâs mind from the past he was inhabiting --- was rife with stress and dread.Â
he lifted his gaze, and saw a man in the doorway of the lush bedroom; seemingly, he was the reason he had gotten up so quickly. the man was dressed in raggedy, unwashed robes, and his hands were stained and blotted with grass and other signs of the forest or wood, as if he had been rummaging through the wilderness in search for something. a healer, in search for ingredients.
â ser! quickly, you must come --- we have finally found something! â the man proclaimed excitedly, his voice lilting with a clear kradaeca accent. bryn felt himself stand and rush towards the door, accompanying the healer outside of a castle he didnât recognize. as they exited the walls of the castle, the air was thick with the smell of salt water, and the further bryn followed the healer it became increasingly obvious that they were near the shore.Â
â over here, ser, by the cliffâs edge! â the healer said breathlessly, rushing towards the edge of a sharp stone cliff that cut off steeply, displaying the deadly waves crashing against sharp rocks that sat far down below. the wind was chilled by the edge of the cliff, but the sun beating down still caused a bead of sweat to roll down the back of his neck. he felt himself reach up and wipe his forehead with a strangerâs hand, and the sound of his breath catching in his throat was unfamiliar. bryn felt a pang of excitement fill his stomach, though he did not know why the man would be excited over what the healer was showing him.Â
there was a cluster of flowers on the very edge of the cliff, nearly on the down slope of the rocks. as bryn felt himself step closer to examine them, they became clearer --- blindingly WHITE flowers, with slightly wrinkled petals that gave the flowers a wilted look, though they all seemed to be in full bloom.
â are these the flowers? â bryn felt himself ask nervously, his voice completely foreign. â rhosthon, tell me --- are these the flowers that will cure the land of the plague? â
â yes, ser, â the healer, now known as rhosthon, said with a wide smile that revealed broken teeth and blackening gums. â we finally found it! â
rhosthon said something else, but bryn could no longer hear him. the world around him swirled with a white fury, the cliff breaking off into the air and the healer rhosthon disintegrating with a FLURRY of robes and smoke.Â
bryn woke up screaming, his mind in his own head again. he was covered in a cold sweat, and his hair stuck to his face as he panted, trying to catch his breath --- but there was no time to waste. the newly appointed duke flung the covers from his legs and ran from the room, wearing only his sleeping trousers; but he didnât care. bryn ran as fast as his legs could take him, his bare feet padding through the hallways and corridors that lead to the infirmary. he could think of no where else to go, no where else the information could be so highly valued.
bryn stormed into the bed-lined room, and several healers and nurses gasped at the sudden intrusion. he took a moment to catch his breath, and took a few steps into the room that smelled of tonics and smoke from the fires that supposedly kept the sickness from the air. he took one last steadying breath.
â i know how to cure it, â bryn said breathlessly, his tone reminiscent of rhosthonâs voice from before. â i know how to cure the plague! â
after emeline had asked henry about nathaniel, he had wanted nothing more from the conversation. through no fault of the queenâs, her mention of the bearorian leader had brought to the surface many feelings that henry did not wish to sift through over breakfast â or at all. the mixture of jealousy, love, lust, and longing had become the main occupant of the kingâs mind and heart, and the last thing he wanted was to say something to accidentally jeopardize the secrecy of their relationship. and so he had made an excuse â but a good one, for he had to have a good reason for leaving so abruptly.
he had wanted to make sure lyannaâs night had not tired her too much or made her ill in some way. she was still so young, and her shifts were bound to still scare her more than anything. and so he had begun his trek to her chambers, taking the long way to avoid bumping into too many royals or nobles on their way to breakfast. he needed to think things over, and he couldnât do that and small talk at the same time.
henry had been too involved in his thoughts to notice the group of pirates moving towards him until it was too late. they grabbed and pulled at him forcefully, and although he tired to fight back, it was useless without a weapon or companion. he tried to yell out â to curse or to scream, he didnât know â but a hand cupped his mouth and prevented any loud sound from escaping. he was already weak from his shift, and he knew he had no chance against such a vehement group. a cloth gag replaced the hand, and some other piece of cloth fall over his head. he could only see the pattern of the fabric, some sort of burlap, and nothing was visible through it. he gagged and tried to scream, but the only thing that came out was a struggled grunt, and his throat constricted as the gag did its job a little too well. he was jostled roughly enough to cause bruising, and soon he was thrust into a darker setting â perhaps the woods? he could only smell the remnants of whatever rotten food had occupied the burlap sack, and his stomach churned.
his mind was still in the castle, though his body was being taken from its walls. his family was there; his childrenâŠÂ were they safe? his heart fell into his stomach, and the wine threatened to come back up at the thought of his children being injured in any way. perhaps if the pirates were only taking him hostage, he could barter a deal and make sure his children were not harmed. they hadnât killed him yet, so they obviously had a planâŠÂ he had been so easily targeted, so it would seem that royals, and perhaps nobles, were at the center of the attack. did that mean the other kings and queens would be taken as well? did theyâŠ
nate. the kind eyes of the other king swam in henryâs blurring vision as his legs gave out beneath him, causing the pirates to begin dragging the tall king of norden along with no large amount of grace. if nate was harmed⊠gods. henry didnât even want to imagine what the pirates would suffer from at his hands.
soon he was thrown to the ground, and the burlap was ripped from his head. the gag was cut, and his vision cleared. around him was a sizable group of pirates, all around a central fire pit, with several tents surrounding the outlying area. they began asking him questions, as expected, and he closed his eyes. he did not plan on answering any of them, and the weapons turning towards him told him that were not going to make a deal. soon the pirates grew impatient, and henry felt the hilt of a sword hit the side of his head with considerable force. instantly he fell fully to the ground, and his vision faded to blackness. his last thought before he lost consciousness was that of his children, of nate, and of all of the innocent people in the castle walls. if he could manage to stay alive until dusk, he could return in the morning, and see for himself the damage the pirates had caused.
the interrogation was brutal, but he survived the knife points in the tender parts of his skin, the flats of swords bruising large parts of flesh, and the harsh words spat into his face. he snarled back snide remarks every once in a while, sometimes teasing at an answer to make sure they kept him alive. they got irritated and took a knife to his hair, cutting it jaggedly and leaving him with the hair of hot youth â the hair of a prince and not a king. and then the sun sank below the tree line, and henry felt his bones begin to ache with transition immediately. having kept the wolf at bay the previous night, he was able to let it free early â the gods were smiling on him, it seemed, if only just a little. soon he lost control, his screams turning into howls as he desperately tore at the pirates with a premature revenge.
it was late dawn when he woke up, shivering with cold and fright, drenched in sweat and blood â both his and the pirates, whose entrails could be traced back to their camp. he quickly scrambled away from the scene, his empty stomach churning with stress and disgust. his mind reeled, and with only his torn underwear as coverage, he stumbled back to the castle, guided by the sun and tall towers of the building in the distance.
According to myth, elves only meet death through the clash of swords, the stab of flesh, the spill of blood. (According to myth, even halflings live far beyond the years of normal man.) They watch kingdoms rise and fall. They watch children be born, then grow old and die. They stand vigil over the lives of men, the silent sentries of history.Â
Immortality is a gift not given to the faint of heart, and fate has a way of weeding out those unworthy of it...Â
For weeks, Astrid had been feeling unwell - dizzy, nauseated, so worried she couldnât sleep. She could barely stomach food, and yet her belly still seemed to swell. Paranoia set in, the kind where she could feel her heart beating ragged and thready in her throat.Â
There was a potion Aunt Margaret used to make back at the brothel, and when she was young, Astrid would make herself of use by picking all the ingredients out in the woods. Not for the faint of heart, Margaret used to say, but for those who were strong of will, it could make their troubles go away.Â
Astrid could use that now, and with all the court in a frenzy, it was easy enough to sneak away to the woods. She hardly had reason to fear for her safety now - not when the worst had already happened.Â
Back in her chambers, she followed the recipe by memory alone, and the resulting mixture was just as brown and mucky as she had remembered it. It was bitter going down, and she had to suppress the urge to vomit, but she managed to swallow down every last drop.Â
It only took two hours for her to begin to bleed - faster than she remembered it being, but time seemed to drag in youth, and she thought nothing of it. The cramping was something terrible, but she told herself the pain would absolve her of her sins.Â
Still, time passed on and the pain didnât cease. It got worse, in fact, until it felt like it had seized her entire body. The aches panged with the beating of her heart, a constant throb. Thud thud. Thud thud. Thud thud....
And then the pain started to lessen, to come slower, and crash over more like the whitecaps at shore and less like the tidal waves.Â
Thud thud...Â
...
Thud thud....
...
Thud....Â
Thud...
....Â
Thud.Â
Until suddenly, it stopped. Until suddenly, all of it stopped. No more pain. No more hurt. No more weak heart.Â
Immortality is a gift not given to the faint of heart, and fate has a way of weeding out those unworthy of it...Â
Even in his chambers, attempting to read a book, Adrian was interrupted every five minutes by the sounds of people passing by his door. When it got to the point that he had read the same sentence fifteen times, he decided enough was enough.
Abandoning the book, he made his way down to the stables, having decided that a solitary ride through the wilderness of the new world would be time better spent.
The heat of the sun beat down against his skin as he charged through the fields, and after a long hour of riding, he decided to take shelter in a dense copse of trees to give both himself and Ash a break from the heat. Sunlight dappled through the woodland in emerald fractures, but the shade was much cooler, and he even came across a small brook where Ash could drink. It was as the horse was taking gulps from the stream that Adrian heard a high-pitched screeching noise close by.
It was a sound he had never heard before that he could barely describe. It was somewhere between a squawk and a roar, and yet not quite either of those things. Curiosity got the better of him, and he started traipsing through the forest undergrowth to find the source of such an unusual noise.
The last thing he had expected to find was a creature straight out of a book.
It was a young one, definitely, since it was roughly about the same size as a puppy - maybe a few weeks old? He couldnât believe his eyes, but the combination of eagle and lion was unmistakable. He was looking at a baby gryffin, one of the rarest creatures in the world. He knew from reading about them that the mothers were fiercely protective of their young, but were known to abandon the runts of the litter, and he could only assume that was what had happened here. He was frozen in surprise at the sight. Gryffins were so rare that a lot of people thought they didnât exist at all, and yet here was one before him, crying out for a mother that had abandoned it to the wild.
He felt a strange connection to the creature. It was almost as if an invisible string was threaded between them, bonding man and beast. When he took a step closer, the gryffin looked up at him with wide, curious eyes but made no attempt to flee. He inched closer, doing his best to remain calm and quiet so he didnât scare the young beast. It did cower away from him the closer he drew towards it, but yet it was not fleeing through the undergrowth, which Adrian took as a positive sign.
Finally, he was so close to the gryffin that he could reach out a hand and touch it, but instead he reached into the satchel hanging at his hip and took out one of the chicken legs he had swiped from the kitchen. He had read that gryffins mostly ate meat, although he wasnât sure how one this young would react to it. For all he knew, it still might need milk. But he tossed the chicken leg in front of the creature and watched as it tentatively craned its head and sniffed at the offering before devouring it so quickly that Adrian fell backwards in surprise. Only a picked-clean bone remained, and the gryffin stood up and started to pick its way slowly towards Adrian. It took a moment for him to realise that it wasnât trying to attack, but could smell the rest of the food in his satchel. He reached in again and pulled out another chicken leg, holding it out towards the beast. âDo you want this?âÂ
It titled its head, and he threw the chicken leg towards it, a small chuckle escaping him as the gryffin plucked it out of midair and wolfed it down.
He sat there for a while, throwing food for the gryffin to gobble down in seconds until his satchel was empty. âNo more.â
The gryffin tilted its head again, but this time in the direction of the empty satchel, as if telling him to pull out more food or at least check if he missed anything.
âIâm not lying.â He lifted the empty bag and held it out towards the creature so it could see for itself that all of the food was gone. âSee? Empty.â
The gryffin leaned towards the bag, probably trying to scent any leftover scraps, and then to Adrianâs surprise, it hopped into the satchel.
âWhat are you doing?â He reached a hand into the bag, but the creature snapped at his fingers and he withdrew them quickly. It watched him with a way eye for a moment, as if warning him not to do it again, and then curled itself into a ball and nestled into the lining of his satchel. All he could do was watch in amazement as the mythical beast slowly closed its eyes.
Adrian had two options. One: he could leave his satchel out here for the gryffin to leave whenever it pleased and live out his life in the wild; or two: he could take the gryffin home with him. It was the runt of the litter and judging by how fast it had wolfed that food down, it had been a while since it had last eaten. He didnât know how well such a young creature could survive on its own in the wild. On the other hand, bringing it home would mean accepting responsibility for caring for a creature he had a very limited knowledge of. A creature that was so rare it had a mythical status, and a creature that was not known for being friendly - the nip at his fingers confirmed that.
And yet when he looked down at the ball of feathers and fur curled up in the bottom of his bag, Adrian felt a pang in his chest. It was more than just sympathy for the gryffin - it was as though something was compelling him to take it home and care for it. He wasnât sure he would physically be able to abandon it. And so Adrian settled upon following the more ridiculous of the two options, and carefully fastened the flap of the satchel down before hiking it up onto his shoulder and making his way back to Ash.
