decisions to decisions are made and not bought

The political issues of the group he normally resided in were lost on him. It made sense. His mind was simple. It required little to function. He didn't think deeply. His mind was on the surface. He was only concerned with his necessities and not a thing greater than that. Sure, sometimes curiosity broke through that simple mind. He had previously offered gifts of sorts to the other dwellers of the Pitt, but had not as of late. After all, the jungle was burned. Food was scarce for the cicada. He ate trees, and now they were burned down. It was his sole food source. He could ingest flesh. He had proven such before. The cicada had discovered that flesh was far from his favorite source of nutrition. He had briefly eaten an article of prey that another dweller had brought back, and had swiftly given up and discarded the rest of the corpse. Astiar was, after all, incredibly herbivorous. He was a cicada in the body of a dragon, and cicadas did not eat the prey that most mammals did. They ate the pulp of trees, they ate roots, they ate leaves, and other smaller bugs. That was their niche. A small creature that used their numbers to keep their population alive. Astiar, of course, was no ordinary cicada. His body was that of a dragon, but his mind was bound to it's cicada origins. It was why he craved trees over flesh. It was why his mind was so simple. Dragons could think in complex ways. A small insect, a cicada, could not.

Astiar had left the territory before in search of food. With the jungle burned, there was certainly not enough food left to sustain him. What little plants there were, the cicada tore up from the dirt and crunched down upon with his mighty mandibles and sharp teeth. He ate plant matter more than he ever would be able to stand the taste and feel of flesh. It was surprising how his gums were not littered with splinters. Perhaps his gums were simply hardened against bark, or he was just horrifically lucky. Considering trees were his main food source, it would be equally as horrific if he was not able to eat his main food source without winding up in severe pain. His approach was signaled by the ever present buzzing of his wings. Astiar was a noisy creature. His wings were constantly generating noise. The rare moment that his wings were still, his mandibles were clicking in rapid succession as if to replicate the effects of the buzzing noise. There was no deep meaning behind his noise - or at least, the buzzing of his wings. There wasn't any reasoning behind the noise, seemingly. Astiar made noise all the time. Especially when he was approaching events that upheld his curiosity.

Hearing the announcement wasn't what attracted him. The cicada was unable to understand speech. No, instead, it had been the sight of a tree that warranted his approach. Astiar was so used to everything being barren and without a source of food for him that suddenly seeing a tree present warranted his approach. His wings buzzed loudly and in a near feverish manner. His mandibles were clicking too. Trees were food. The summoning had been to decorate the tree, but Astiar would do no such thing. His mind demanded sustenance, and trees were his selected prey. The large dragon strode forward with his recently present limp accompanying his gait. The cicada was starving. Trees were food. He clicked his mandibles rapidly. Food, he was hungry. The tree had to be food. Why was it suddenly here? Perhaps the cicada would have been able to question that had he been a little further away from being near absolutely bound to his instincts. Why was not a question that entered his mind. Questions were for more intelligent persons, and the cicada was not a part of that mentality. Astiar tried to grab some of the branches with his mandibles if he was even allotted to get that close in proximity to the tree. His tail hung limply behind him and his large wings continued their ever dreadful and noisy buzzing.

control yourself and take only what you need from it

[align=center]— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —