08-30-2019, 05:29 PM
[glow=#000,1,400]WE'LL SEE THE SUN COME UP AGAIN, WE'LL CLIMB HIGHER THAN WE'VE EVER BEEN[/glow]
The ground was hard to emerge from. It was tough, his feet scrabbling across the dirt. It was time to emerge from the dirt, where he had remained for seventeen years. Growing, developing as a nymph. All cicadas did such a thing. They grew slowly, steadily, biding their time. His feet tossed dirt overhead in a near frenzy. It was time, some deep instinct said. Who was he to refute such a thing? Instinct made him live, and the simple mind of an insect could not refute nor rebuttal nor question. Especially not when instinct had refused to fail him before. So he dug upwards, as he knew many others were.
Cicadas emerged from the ground in the depths of the night, when the ground hit a certain temperature. His feet met fresh air, and then the wood of a root that he had the day before been feasting upon the sap of. He began to clamber upwards, his movements a little shaky. There was the bumbling of other cicadas as they rose up against the bark of the tree. There was one last molt that awaited the group of cicadas, those that had all been laid in a similar time span. It was a safety in numbers sort of deal- who knew how long they would be safe from predators with their sheer numbers?
He continued to clamber until he reached a spot that he deemed comfortable. There he would sit and await for his last skin to harden, and for his body to emerge in it’s final, adult form. That was the only goal upon his mind, it was the only goal that mattered to him. Simple minded bugs had few goals, and they all surrounded the idea that survival was all that mattered.
Hours went past, as it was a slow process. It was boring and tedious, even to an insect. He didn’t know what awaited on the other side of this last shedding. What would happen? Would everything be okay? Questions were not formable in his simple mind. It was only to do, there was no questioning. Instinct gave it’s demands, and the insect followed.
Dawn breaking over the trees revealed his progress, and his change. He had crashed on the floor as his size and form changed, writhing, altering. Loud buzzes of wings turned into painful and deep bellows. Jaws stretched, membrane snapping. The body of a noisy bug grew into the form of a formidable predator. Antennae sprouted from his head as his exoskeleton fell off in it’s entirety. The pain was tremendous- and pain was such a fickle thing to the simple minded insect. Wings grew and stretched from his sides, and a long tail sprouted in a sudden spurt from his abdomen.
Astiar collapsed when the transformation was complete. Heat steamed from the energy required for such a drastic transformation. An exoskeleton to an endoskeleton. Lacking a working maw to having both that and mandibles. A forked tongue flickered from his mouth on instinct. Exhaustion weighed down his heavy body, coal black as it rested on the jungle floor. His wings would still need to fully harden before he would be able to achieve flight.
Slowly, six limbs scrabbled against the ground. He rose into a sit- a sit that would have never been physically possible for an insect. His head hung below his shoulders, exhaustion making him pant. Clear wings stuck out from his back, fanning in the morning air. His red eyes blinked open, and an unconscious bellow rumbled forth from the tall dragon. Astiar remained sitting, recovering, red eyes watching the smoke come from his coal black form. The barest notion of confusion had risen to his consciousness. Something about this felt foreign and wrong, and he could not define why.
Cicadas emerged from the ground in the depths of the night, when the ground hit a certain temperature. His feet met fresh air, and then the wood of a root that he had the day before been feasting upon the sap of. He began to clamber upwards, his movements a little shaky. There was the bumbling of other cicadas as they rose up against the bark of the tree. There was one last molt that awaited the group of cicadas, those that had all been laid in a similar time span. It was a safety in numbers sort of deal- who knew how long they would be safe from predators with their sheer numbers?
He continued to clamber until he reached a spot that he deemed comfortable. There he would sit and await for his last skin to harden, and for his body to emerge in it’s final, adult form. That was the only goal upon his mind, it was the only goal that mattered to him. Simple minded bugs had few goals, and they all surrounded the idea that survival was all that mattered.
Hours went past, as it was a slow process. It was boring and tedious, even to an insect. He didn’t know what awaited on the other side of this last shedding. What would happen? Would everything be okay? Questions were not formable in his simple mind. It was only to do, there was no questioning. Instinct gave it’s demands, and the insect followed.
Dawn breaking over the trees revealed his progress, and his change. He had crashed on the floor as his size and form changed, writhing, altering. Loud buzzes of wings turned into painful and deep bellows. Jaws stretched, membrane snapping. The body of a noisy bug grew into the form of a formidable predator. Antennae sprouted from his head as his exoskeleton fell off in it’s entirety. The pain was tremendous- and pain was such a fickle thing to the simple minded insect. Wings grew and stretched from his sides, and a long tail sprouted in a sudden spurt from his abdomen.
Astiar collapsed when the transformation was complete. Heat steamed from the energy required for such a drastic transformation. An exoskeleton to an endoskeleton. Lacking a working maw to having both that and mandibles. A forked tongue flickered from his mouth on instinct. Exhaustion weighed down his heavy body, coal black as it rested on the jungle floor. His wings would still need to fully harden before he would be able to achieve flight.
Slowly, six limbs scrabbled against the ground. He rose into a sit- a sit that would have never been physically possible for an insect. His head hung below his shoulders, exhaustion making him pant. Clear wings stuck out from his back, fanning in the morning air. His red eyes blinked open, and an unconscious bellow rumbled forth from the tall dragon. Astiar remained sitting, recovering, red eyes watching the smoke come from his coal black form. The barest notion of confusion had risen to his consciousness. Something about this felt foreign and wrong, and he could not define why.
TAGS 8/30/29:
[glow=#000,1,400]WE’VE GOT A FIRE THAT BURNS WITHIN, WE ARE THE DRAGONHEARTED [/glow]
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FULZANIN is a 19 year old content creator. Currently roleplaying as Beezlebub in the Pitt and Jotunhel in the Typhoon. Time spent outside of work and writing is typically done in Creatures of Sonaria. FULZANIN is also in a happy relationship, and is aegosexual/asexual herself.
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