decisions to decisions are made and not bought

His scales had  been troublesome the past few days. They felt odd, like there were ants crawling all over his tan and black and blue and orange scales. Astiar had lifted his limbs to check for his fellow insects but had been thoroughly disappointed. He had not the slightest idea as to why his scales were signaling odd feelings to his mind. Itchy. The feeling was itchiness, the word prompted to him when he'd been sitting and feeling frustration clamber up from the depths of his being - something that his simple mind had no idea what to do with. Usually an insect could be seen using their front legs to wash their head, clean antennae and things of the like. Astiar had done this back when he was a youthful nymph. Having disregarded the practice until now, his skill set was absolutely terrible. The dragon wound up half collapsed with his hind legs keeping his body hoisted, while his other four legs furiously rubbed at his head. Scales flaked off from the furious clawing motions that accompanied the scratching session. Eventually the itching faded, and Astiar went on with his day.

Or, so it would have been if the itching had not returned. The dragon's scales had been paling over the past few days. Midnight black scales had faded to a pale grey, and cracks had been able to be seen over them. Even his burn wound had begun to pale and flake up. Insects and reptiles both underwent a procedure that currently was plaguing Astiar: molting. He had underwent such a thing back as a nymph, but this was the first time that he had done such within a gargantuan body. Size was not his only issue. Sharp claws meant that he easily could scratch himself - and instinct realized such a thing. He didn't have the patience to go out and find a sturdy burned tree to rub against until the itching faded. The dragon practically charged towards the nearest building, furiously pressing his form against such. Usually the process, for reptiles, would take a few weeks. Insects molted their exoskeleton simultaneously, and such seemed to be another trend that Astiar carried over from his cicada roots other than his tree diet.

Still, it would take any creature of his size a while to fully get rid of the useless scales that had covered him. In addition to rubbing the dragon had continued clawing and swatting furiously at where the itching was the worst. It did not sate the twitchy and near tingling feelings, but it granted Astiar with brief moments of relief. From his horns to his tail was the lumbering idiot molting, and for a good while did he spend clawing and rubbing to rid himself. Eventually his fitful scratching and rubbing came to a halt. The old exoskeleton, the old layer of scales - whatever it was to be called - now laid discarded next to him. Astiar was breathless, near exhausted from all the work in addition to the hunger that often plagued him due to the lack of food. His scales were cleaner, back to their bright and luminous state. The dragon collapsed near the near intact skeleton of his external form, soft chittering noises sounding from him. His eyes and antennae, truly, were the only two things to not be included within the shed model of the cicada. Astiar wasn't sure what he was going to do with it, and at the time he was too busy being tired and eyeing his shiny black claws to care.

control yourself and take only what you need from it

© LEXASPERATED

decisions to decisions are made and not bought

While other's couldn't understand due to a difference in language, it was mostly an intellectual barrier that kept Astiar from being able to grasp any and all words that came his way. He felt far better and more content now that his itchy, tightened skin had been shed from his body. A few flakes remained, grunts sounding while talons raised up to remove one of those patches. It was tiring, but certainly refreshing now that fresh scales were meeting the air for the first time. Astiar's blue antennae flickered above his head, untouched by the molting process. They would grow continuously, much like his scales spare the difference of shedding. They fell still as Astiar's head turned, inspecting the first to come over. The noise of speech was mere noise, no matter the language. His head tilted, and a chatter came from him in response. There was no attempt to speak, the cicada exhausted past being able to screech into people's minds by the ordeal. He turned a little more, watching the other nudge the shed husk. Mostly it remained intact - dense and formidable shed scales. The chatter turned to chitter, curious of a new face.

His body gave a small shake, allowing ease and for some of the remaining lose debris of his old exterior scales to fall. Clicking his mandibles, his red gaze turned when Caustic approached. The odd hive member, the one that had leaves made of unedible air around him. His wings twitched and a faint yet sharp buzzing noise solidified as a result. The other's question was quite simple, and it was of the tongue that steadily Astiar had been beginning to pick up on. Bit by bit, a few sounds were beginning to click in his mind. He'd come to begin to recognize his name - being addressed had been what had warranted a sharper turn of his head and the lowering of his form down to eye level. The other's attention was on the shed husk that Astiar had discarded. Something nonverbal that allowed for a better grasp. 'Take'. His antennae curled a little, lights flickering in his pupil lacking gaze. "HIVE TAKE," Astiar screeched into the other's mind after a good moment of having to figure out how to properly use the word 'take' within his near nonsensical way of speaking. The insect sat upright, rubbing where his new scales had yet to properly harden. It was a manner akin to insect shedding rather than draconic shedding, another notable oddity that summarized Astiar well.

control yourself and take only what you need from it