Post by Dragon NPC on Apr 1, 2008 20:30:39 GMT -4
There was a breeze, and the grass swayed in its presence, and there wasn't even a breath of sound; no one usually ventured forth to the gate of the Umbra. It was a place of little disturbance, with the sun shining and birds flying overhead. In the distance, a gryphon could be seen flying with its young, guiding them and teaching them.
The Dragon to be seen over the skies was very rarely seen at that; he was sure, even as he made his rounds, that no being would have seen him, not even those far off whom he had seen.
On visible for a second, the old Dragon took another quick look around, and knowing--not by seeing, but by his feelings on the inside--that everything was well, he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, as quickly as the name Thyone had faded from the memory of the inhabitants.
Ripples bubbled to the surface of the large body of water; mermaids and merman jumping up to play. There was a father and son, learning how to fish, learning to feel the creatures under the waves and developing the instinct to aim and kill the creatures without so much as a though. Such was the way of the world. Prey were caught and predators feasted...if their skill was great enough.
Suddenly, the son cried out, "Father, Look!"
And as the father turned, his peripheral vision reeling, Locaste could be seen above the waters, but only for this instant--nothing was the matter, and there was no need to linger.
Sooner than the father could blink and get a good look at the shadow at the corner of his eye, it too was gone.
Mneme walked freely in the night, her tail swishing as she did so. There was no need to hide in the shadows--the night did the work for her. She could see all the lights in the distance--the caves and cities, the groups and clans and families all getting ready to either celebrate some events or rest in sleep.
Scurrying up the side of a cliff, she was grasping tightly to a wand, one of her own, whose purpose she was not going to tell any being. Once on the cliff, she could clearly see the flames that belonged to Dragons and the ones that did not; the difference was the light of a true flame, one that would last for hours or until the Dragon willed it from existence.
While in darkness her eyes could catch the smallest of things. The insects and specs and things that no one in the Realm played any attention to were things that she glared at with the most fierceness. But even after studying the things in the night left alone by all she grew weary of such activity. And one by one, each of the beads of light on her forehead turned themselves out, until there was only darkness. And if any one strained their eyes enough to adjust to the darkness, they would realize that whoever had been there was no longer.
The Dragon to be seen over the skies was very rarely seen at that; he was sure, even as he made his rounds, that no being would have seen him, not even those far off whom he had seen.
On visible for a second, the old Dragon took another quick look around, and knowing--not by seeing, but by his feelings on the inside--that everything was well, he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, as quickly as the name Thyone had faded from the memory of the inhabitants.
Ripples bubbled to the surface of the large body of water; mermaids and merman jumping up to play. There was a father and son, learning how to fish, learning to feel the creatures under the waves and developing the instinct to aim and kill the creatures without so much as a though. Such was the way of the world. Prey were caught and predators feasted...if their skill was great enough.
Suddenly, the son cried out, "Father, Look!"
And as the father turned, his peripheral vision reeling, Locaste could be seen above the waters, but only for this instant--nothing was the matter, and there was no need to linger.
Sooner than the father could blink and get a good look at the shadow at the corner of his eye, it too was gone.
Mneme walked freely in the night, her tail swishing as she did so. There was no need to hide in the shadows--the night did the work for her. She could see all the lights in the distance--the caves and cities, the groups and clans and families all getting ready to either celebrate some events or rest in sleep.
Scurrying up the side of a cliff, she was grasping tightly to a wand, one of her own, whose purpose she was not going to tell any being. Once on the cliff, she could clearly see the flames that belonged to Dragons and the ones that did not; the difference was the light of a true flame, one that would last for hours or until the Dragon willed it from existence.
While in darkness her eyes could catch the smallest of things. The insects and specs and things that no one in the Realm played any attention to were things that she glared at with the most fierceness. But even after studying the things in the night left alone by all she grew weary of such activity. And one by one, each of the beads of light on her forehead turned themselves out, until there was only darkness. And if any one strained their eyes enough to adjust to the darkness, they would realize that whoever had been there was no longer.