★ -- Exodus only knew of the warmth of her siblings and mother's quiet, but strong and powerful gentleness.
She knew that there were others hat roamed the island. The youth cared little for them, though they intrigued her, their very existence sending a curious little spark igniting her veins like fire.
They were not prey, as she had come to learn. They were not friend or foe either. They were just there.
And Exodus did not know what to make of them.
Her curiosity was more dismissive than anything; Exodus did not linger on the existence of strange, twisted creatures with vibrant pelts and horns and wings that looked nothing like prey or like mother or her family. The inquisition burbling underneath her skin churned until she allowed herself to force it back down. Perhaps they were prey in the end? Strange prey-- prey that Exodus did not eat but she knew if the safety of her family was compromised, no love would be held for these foreigners and their ways.
She had, ignored them, for the most part.
But this one was hard to ignore.
Vivid yellow in color, speaking in the same babbling language that she had heard so many times, but couldn't care to understand. It was not as if she could, anyways. There was almost a barrier between them, the typhooners and the newborn creatures of old. Their eyes gleamed with an intellect Exodus knew she could not match, and it almost disturbed her.
But why would a predator be unsettled by prey? Prey that she would not eat, but prey nonetheless. She did not know of what else to call them.
It was on this fine day that Exodus had decided to follow her brother, slinking a good few yards behind them. As her body was preparing itself for moult in the days to come, thin, needle like quills pushed it's way past her skin, ready to make way for a sleeker set of feathers. She did not know what to make of it, other than the fact that it hurt and she itched and ached and felt as if all her skin were to peel away. The feathers upon her little frame felt loose somehow, and Exodus would have become uneased at the prospect of nakedness. To be without her feathers was simply ridiculous. But then she eases herself with the thought that this new burn was to give way for a metamorphosis; one that would make her more akin to mother. One that would strip her of her feathers and expose patches of skin and scales that would harden into sable midnight armor. Her baby quills were growing spines and her feathered arms would elongate into webbed wings. It had to be so. She was sure of it.
The stranger before her was approaching her brother, speaking in an unknown tongue that sent a trill of wonder down Exo's spine. He did not radiate ill intent, but rather something far more diluted. Exodus found it was still something she did not quite like.
Exodus did not know what to make of it, and as always, a test was afoot. The utahraptor would see if this strange feline were friend or foe. Her bites was always foolproof. How he reacted; with mild annoyance, fear, or anger, would determine if he was worth noticing or considering a threat.
Waddling behind Caesar on ungraceful limbs, the child would attempt to extend her neck and aim to nip the officer, right on the butt, letting loose an obnoxious cooing sound as she did so, almost as of she were laughing.
But Exodus could do no such thing, right?
// dkrirbrj I'm sorry it had to be done
She knew that there were others hat roamed the island. The youth cared little for them, though they intrigued her, their very existence sending a curious little spark igniting her veins like fire.
They were not prey, as she had come to learn. They were not friend or foe either. They were just there.
And Exodus did not know what to make of them.
Her curiosity was more dismissive than anything; Exodus did not linger on the existence of strange, twisted creatures with vibrant pelts and horns and wings that looked nothing like prey or like mother or her family. The inquisition burbling underneath her skin churned until she allowed herself to force it back down. Perhaps they were prey in the end? Strange prey-- prey that Exodus did not eat but she knew if the safety of her family was compromised, no love would be held for these foreigners and their ways.
She had, ignored them, for the most part.
But this one was hard to ignore.
Vivid yellow in color, speaking in the same babbling language that she had heard so many times, but couldn't care to understand. It was not as if she could, anyways. There was almost a barrier between them, the typhooners and the newborn creatures of old. Their eyes gleamed with an intellect Exodus knew she could not match, and it almost disturbed her.
But why would a predator be unsettled by prey? Prey that she would not eat, but prey nonetheless. She did not know of what else to call them.
It was on this fine day that Exodus had decided to follow her brother, slinking a good few yards behind them. As her body was preparing itself for moult in the days to come, thin, needle like quills pushed it's way past her skin, ready to make way for a sleeker set of feathers. She did not know what to make of it, other than the fact that it hurt and she itched and ached and felt as if all her skin were to peel away. The feathers upon her little frame felt loose somehow, and Exodus would have become uneased at the prospect of nakedness. To be without her feathers was simply ridiculous. But then she eases herself with the thought that this new burn was to give way for a metamorphosis; one that would make her more akin to mother. One that would strip her of her feathers and expose patches of skin and scales that would harden into sable midnight armor. Her baby quills were growing spines and her feathered arms would elongate into webbed wings. It had to be so. She was sure of it.
The stranger before her was approaching her brother, speaking in an unknown tongue that sent a trill of wonder down Exo's spine. He did not radiate ill intent, but rather something far more diluted. Exodus found it was still something she did not quite like.
Exodus did not know what to make of it, and as always, a test was afoot. The utahraptor would see if this strange feline were friend or foe. Her bites was always foolproof. How he reacted; with mild annoyance, fear, or anger, would determine if he was worth noticing or considering a threat.
Waddling behind Caesar on ungraceful limbs, the child would attempt to extend her neck and aim to nip the officer, right on the butt, letting loose an obnoxious cooing sound as she did so, almost as of she were laughing.
But Exodus could do no such thing, right?
// dkrirbrj I'm sorry it had to be done
im like a bull in a china shop
knocking off a knock off .
"cause i got no culture of mine" — exodus — typhoon — feathered raptor — info