12-12-2019, 12:04 PM
decisions to decisions are made and not bought
Biting into a branch was both easier than harder than sinking his teeth into the flesh of a tree. It was easier to break. The branch was far more brittle and easy to snap with his jaws and mandibles than the hard bark of the trunk of the tree. Easier to break was both a blessing and a curse. It snapped when he tried to chew on it, splintering. His wings buzzed and twitched briefly. Slowly the insect tried to curl his sharp claws around the branch to keep it from being nudged away. It snapped, again, and a soft hiss of irritability came from the cicada. He could try to pin down the branches, and tear away another limb, but it was just becoming a horrific tangled mess of snapped branches to deal with. Astiar was not about to give up his attempts, though. Hunger was his motivator, it demanded for him to feast upon the food that he had already felled before even allowing the notion of searching for other sustenance. His energy was drained, and his body was situated in a manner than suggested unfamiliarity with the body he possessed as well has his utter exhaustion. Fear, too. Occasionally the bug lifted his head, looking at the smoldering lava. He was afraid that the heat would get close. He was afraid he would be pushed off of this scrap of a meal, too. Then he would have to find another branch to eat, and likely be pushed off that one as well. In the Pitt he had once offered his food to Kydobi, under the impression that the jaguar too was capable of eating the pulp of trees just as he could. He hadn't been made aware that the other was incapable. Was that why he had been pushed away from his food? Because the lion that could create lava wanted the trees for himself? It was hardly a concept able to be grasped in his basic mind, one that made sense to his lackluster sentience. Food was food, food was important, food was worth fighting over - if one could even fight in the first place. Astiar had already proven that he did not fight. When attacked he had only shook his attacker off and backed away.
The branch that Astiar had snagged was not exceptionally large. It wasn't long before he finished crunching down on the brittle limbs of the tree. The cicada remained positioned there, the equally brittle cogs of his simplistic mind turning. He was still hungry, a small series of branches was not going to sate his hunger in full by any means. His attention was ensnared by approach. His head raised from where previously Astiar had briefly laid down, a swift buzz of his wings sounding. The dragon lifted his body slowly, wincing at the use of his injured foot. It nearly led him to fall back down, but hard flaps of his wings helped him stand. Slowly he shuffled, the antennae flicking slowly from his head. There was food. It was a small branch, but food was food, food was important, food was worth fighting over. A chattering noise sounded from his mandibles and jaws. Red eyes looked down at the child that had approached him. His head lowered, and carefully his mandibles ensnared the offered branch. Astiar crunched down on the branch, chewing briefly before swallowing down the small limb. A small, lighter noise came from the cicada. A rumble of some sort. He was not capable of saying thanks to the one that had presented him with food - he hardly understood presenting gratitude in the first place. It was a brief surge from the draconic side of the beast, the body that the cicada had been thrust into. The light noise was as close as he could get. He was not about to offer food as thanks when he was starving. Again the cicada raised up his head, moving his weight so that it better compensated for his injured front leg. It remained lifted and curled, raised from the ground and rendered useless. His red gaze turned to inspect his injury again, as if Astiar expected for it to suddenly be healed from briefly resting.
His mandibles clicked together again. Uncertain was his stance. As absent minded as he was, he knew what he wanted. The tree that he had knocked over was untouched. No one else was eating it. Perhaps if he was more in tune with his draconic side he would feel cheated for being shooed from a meal that was now going to waste. He was not capable of such thoughts. Another whine sounded from the cicada as he shuffled on his feet again. There was the burning heat of the lava between him and the tree. He didn't want to risk more lava coming his way and rendering another one of his legs useless. Noise, again, noise from the creature that briefly Astiar deemed reoccuring. He had mostly dismissed kidnapping from his mind upon the taste of flesh becoming distasteful to him. The kidnapping had been his first attempt at hunting, and had not resulted in any form of nutrition being bestowed to him. He had munched upon the flesh of already deceased mammals and had found the taste lackluster and the feeling in his gut terrible. The sight was familiar, though - that much he knew. From what, he didn't know. He couldn't process thoughts deeply enough to think past the brief feeling of familiarity. There was noise, too, speech. Stuttered, not that Astiar could truly understand speaking in any form. Hunger again whisked away his brief confused chatters that had ensued without any thought given to them. Slowly the cicada began moving forward towards the tree he'd felled. He stepped around the pools of lava, not wanting to be remotely close to them. Astiar's pace was slow, and his wings were raised to prepare himself to fling backwards should he have to back away once again. The cicada's tail dragged behind him and his head was lowered, soft whines sounding from him as he carefully trudged forward towards the felled tree.
The branch that Astiar had snagged was not exceptionally large. It wasn't long before he finished crunching down on the brittle limbs of the tree. The cicada remained positioned there, the equally brittle cogs of his simplistic mind turning. He was still hungry, a small series of branches was not going to sate his hunger in full by any means. His attention was ensnared by approach. His head raised from where previously Astiar had briefly laid down, a swift buzz of his wings sounding. The dragon lifted his body slowly, wincing at the use of his injured foot. It nearly led him to fall back down, but hard flaps of his wings helped him stand. Slowly he shuffled, the antennae flicking slowly from his head. There was food. It was a small branch, but food was food, food was important, food was worth fighting over. A chattering noise sounded from his mandibles and jaws. Red eyes looked down at the child that had approached him. His head lowered, and carefully his mandibles ensnared the offered branch. Astiar crunched down on the branch, chewing briefly before swallowing down the small limb. A small, lighter noise came from the cicada. A rumble of some sort. He was not capable of saying thanks to the one that had presented him with food - he hardly understood presenting gratitude in the first place. It was a brief surge from the draconic side of the beast, the body that the cicada had been thrust into. The light noise was as close as he could get. He was not about to offer food as thanks when he was starving. Again the cicada raised up his head, moving his weight so that it better compensated for his injured front leg. It remained lifted and curled, raised from the ground and rendered useless. His red gaze turned to inspect his injury again, as if Astiar expected for it to suddenly be healed from briefly resting.
His mandibles clicked together again. Uncertain was his stance. As absent minded as he was, he knew what he wanted. The tree that he had knocked over was untouched. No one else was eating it. Perhaps if he was more in tune with his draconic side he would feel cheated for being shooed from a meal that was now going to waste. He was not capable of such thoughts. Another whine sounded from the cicada as he shuffled on his feet again. There was the burning heat of the lava between him and the tree. He didn't want to risk more lava coming his way and rendering another one of his legs useless. Noise, again, noise from the creature that briefly Astiar deemed reoccuring. He had mostly dismissed kidnapping from his mind upon the taste of flesh becoming distasteful to him. The kidnapping had been his first attempt at hunting, and had not resulted in any form of nutrition being bestowed to him. He had munched upon the flesh of already deceased mammals and had found the taste lackluster and the feeling in his gut terrible. The sight was familiar, though - that much he knew. From what, he didn't know. He couldn't process thoughts deeply enough to think past the brief feeling of familiarity. There was noise, too, speech. Stuttered, not that Astiar could truly understand speaking in any form. Hunger again whisked away his brief confused chatters that had ensued without any thought given to them. Slowly the cicada began moving forward towards the tree he'd felled. He stepped around the pools of lava, not wanting to be remotely close to them. Astiar's pace was slow, and his wings were raised to prepare himself to fling backwards should he have to back away once again. The cicada's tail dragged behind him and his head was lowered, soft whines sounding from him as he carefully trudged forward towards the felled tree.
control yourself and take only what you need from it
TAGS 9/4/19:
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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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