11-27-2019, 11:50 PM
we'll see the sun come up again, we'll climb higher than we've been
Astiar was not capable of many things. He could not speak. He could not think. He could not calculate. He could not believe. One thing the insect could do, though, was remember. That was how he knew where these trees were. That’s how he knew where to find food. That’s how he knew where the camp was. Memory and trial by error were the two biggest tracks that ran in the insect’s mind. It was the way of mental processing for most lower species. Astiar was no exception. The words and sounds that formed speech were lost to him. They were only noises. He could only recognize them by their tones and the emotions that were behind them. His wings twitched and the bug’s head raised for a moment. His kidnapping stunt was mostly gone from his mind, not deemed important to him. He’d messed up, and now he was doing his search for edible material in the right way. The dragon had learned that meat was not his favorite and had no need to attempt snatching more persons. The blue colored antennas that Astiar possessed twitched. The tone was foreign to him. It wasn’t as if people were regularly scared of him in the Pitt. He, after all, was just the bare minded dragon who ate trees and did little to nothing else. He didn’t know what to make of the tone and so he lowered his head and attention back to the tree that he was eating. There was no clicks or chatters that came from the dragon. Hunger prevailed over that concept. He was starving and weakened from hunger, and sinking his teeth into the pulp of a tree to regain his strength was more important than the ideas of instinct.
Someone else arrived, after. More noise, random noise that Astiar was not able to comprehend. He didn’t understand grudges. Insects were not capable of such levels of thought. If he was more in tune with his dragonoid body then, perhaps, he would have been able to understand. Astiar could not. The noise’s meaning sailed right over his head, not able to be distinguished into words of meaning. What Astiar could understand was shouting. He had been shouted at before. Yelled at. The tone was associated with bad. It was associated with submission. Yet Astiar had no time to link the two together, because Aurum was already charging him. The insect was a slow thinker, after all. Barely able to think at all. Things were loosely associated with each other. Heat, fire, and a creature he had never seen before was not something he easily comprehended. Astiar felt sharp teeth pierce through his thick scales, and there was hear. Fire. His mind remembered fire. It was what had driven him to search for food here. It was what had burned down all the trees and left him starving. Astiar was subjected to a surge of panic. Fight or flight was instinct. Astiar obeyed his instincts over anything else. Loudly his wings buzzed as he reared up. Astiar rapidly shook his bitten and burning limb, trying to shake Aurum off as best the panicking cicada could manage. Pain, pain flashed in his mind, just as it had when he had bitten into a flaming tree. Pain! Pain! He had six legs to use, and his balance fell off kilter when he rested up onto the hind two.
The cicada did not fight. That was not what insects such as cicadas did. They were low on the food chain. The dragon did not strike back against his flaming opponent. His feet shuffled, his weight teetering. Shouting meant submission, and loud whines and whimper like chatters sounded from the insect as it stumbled. Something had to get the pain to stop. He was not able to understand what had been shouted at him, or what he had done to Roy to be wrong. He was not able to complete such reasoning. When Astiar could no longer remain on his hind feet he slammed back into the ground, wincing when his injured leg had weight to be supported. Lava being spewed into a bite wound burned. He did not know what to do about the sizzled, burnt, and molten flesh. He lifted the leg and issued another absolutely pathetic noise, shuffling backwards. Astiar could not comprehend the demand to leave. All he knew was the loud noise was not something pleasant, and that the burning feeling that surged through his arm was less than pleasant. His wings buzzed, helping him continue backpedaling away from the tree that he had knocked over, the kid that he had kidnapped, and the angry father that sought to protect his home.
//mobile and I’m sorry if anything is conflicting; the fever is back >.>’
Someone else arrived, after. More noise, random noise that Astiar was not able to comprehend. He didn’t understand grudges. Insects were not capable of such levels of thought. If he was more in tune with his dragonoid body then, perhaps, he would have been able to understand. Astiar could not. The noise’s meaning sailed right over his head, not able to be distinguished into words of meaning. What Astiar could understand was shouting. He had been shouted at before. Yelled at. The tone was associated with bad. It was associated with submission. Yet Astiar had no time to link the two together, because Aurum was already charging him. The insect was a slow thinker, after all. Barely able to think at all. Things were loosely associated with each other. Heat, fire, and a creature he had never seen before was not something he easily comprehended. Astiar felt sharp teeth pierce through his thick scales, and there was hear. Fire. His mind remembered fire. It was what had driven him to search for food here. It was what had burned down all the trees and left him starving. Astiar was subjected to a surge of panic. Fight or flight was instinct. Astiar obeyed his instincts over anything else. Loudly his wings buzzed as he reared up. Astiar rapidly shook his bitten and burning limb, trying to shake Aurum off as best the panicking cicada could manage. Pain, pain flashed in his mind, just as it had when he had bitten into a flaming tree. Pain! Pain! He had six legs to use, and his balance fell off kilter when he rested up onto the hind two.
The cicada did not fight. That was not what insects such as cicadas did. They were low on the food chain. The dragon did not strike back against his flaming opponent. His feet shuffled, his weight teetering. Shouting meant submission, and loud whines and whimper like chatters sounded from the insect as it stumbled. Something had to get the pain to stop. He was not able to understand what had been shouted at him, or what he had done to Roy to be wrong. He was not able to complete such reasoning. When Astiar could no longer remain on his hind feet he slammed back into the ground, wincing when his injured leg had weight to be supported. Lava being spewed into a bite wound burned. He did not know what to do about the sizzled, burnt, and molten flesh. He lifted the leg and issued another absolutely pathetic noise, shuffling backwards. Astiar could not comprehend the demand to leave. All he knew was the loud noise was not something pleasant, and that the burning feeling that surged through his arm was less than pleasant. His wings buzzed, helping him continue backpedaling away from the tree that he had knocked over, the kid that he had kidnapped, and the angry father that sought to protect his home.
//mobile and I’m sorry if anything is conflicting; the fever is back >.>’
TAGS 9/4/19:
we've got a fire that burns within, we are the dragon hearted
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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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