Dali glanced toward the gaping maw that was the entrance to the depths. Dali was reluctant to even think about it, reminiscing on a past disagreement, with a sweet and scaly girl three years his junior. Her canvas skin was so soft, and her tail so smooth, slender,
delicate. He recalled her openness, her warmth, and felt a pang of guilt deep inside. His heart hurt. He'd been quick to forget, but just as quick to remember. Her brother had a stronger memory, and if he were still alive, would likely kill Dali if he saw him. Dali still bore a scar beneath his scales, the remnant of a brutal avulsion, an attempted amputation of his tail with a large and jagged rock. Her brother was huge, with claws like a monster. Like a velociraptor, he thought. He shuddered with post-traumatic fear and guilt, and his thoughts raced. Saiorse said something. Dali didn't even notice.
I wonder how she is-
I wonder if she's even still alive-
Or if her brother is-
Or if our hatchlings still are-
Hatchlings? It's been three years-
Three years is a long time in the Mourning Quarter-
Three years is a long time in exile-
He was jolted from his stupor by a shrill scream bouncing from the tenebrous abyss, echoing and distorting, crashing like waves against the rough stone of the doorway, warping into a mutant shriek that turned Dali's shudder to a shiver. He tugged his coat around him, and put a hand on his knife. His left was behind him, tugging the loop of the leather cord that held his chain and hook to his bag. He wrapped it around his arm like a snake, forming a snug vambrace of thick chain, gripping the hook in his blunted fingers. One eye turned toward Saiorse, the other was trained on the source of the noise. "You heard that too, right? Guysss?"
His old scar ached. One of his feet tapped involuntarily, clicking softly against the ground. The tip of his tail flicked back and forth, a twitch from his younger days. He glanced at the Grumbler, certain that it was part of all of this. He caught the eye of Chao, the white-haired warrior from a distant land, determined to find out what secrets the strange soldier withheld. But the wizard. He was sincere, If just a bit stupid.
Something heavy thudded deep below, echoing up like a thousand dull impacts, though Dali was no stranger to underground acoustics. He knew exactly what sort of things made that sound. Dead things. Dead things that weren't dead until recently. Normal, wholesome things don't sound like that, and long dead things can't scream. Saiorse seemed as disturbed as he was. Out of all of them, she seems the most... Not trustworthy, but... I don't know, honest? Another, softer rustle floated up from the deep, and Dali prayed that the sound wasn't what his gut told him it was. I gotta go down there, don't I? He answered himself instantly. Well you have to know, don't you?
delicate. He recalled her openness, her warmth, and felt a pang of guilt deep inside. His heart hurt. He'd been quick to forget, but just as quick to remember. Her brother had a stronger memory, and if he were still alive, would likely kill Dali if he saw him. Dali still bore a scar beneath his scales, the remnant of a brutal avulsion, an attempted amputation of his tail with a large and jagged rock. Her brother was huge, with claws like a monster. Like a velociraptor, he thought. He shuddered with post-traumatic fear and guilt, and his thoughts raced. Saiorse said something. Dali didn't even notice.
I wonder how she is-
I wonder if she's even still alive-
Or if her brother is-
Or if our hatchlings still are-
Hatchlings? It's been three years-
Three years is a long time in the Mourning Quarter-
Three years is a long time in exile-
He was jolted from his stupor by a shrill scream bouncing from the tenebrous abyss, echoing and distorting, crashing like waves against the rough stone of the doorway, warping into a mutant shriek that turned Dali's shudder to a shiver. He tugged his coat around him, and put a hand on his knife. His left was behind him, tugging the loop of the leather cord that held his chain and hook to his bag. He wrapped it around his arm like a snake, forming a snug vambrace of thick chain, gripping the hook in his blunted fingers. One eye turned toward Saiorse, the other was trained on the source of the noise. "You heard that too, right? Guysss?"
His old scar ached. One of his feet tapped involuntarily, clicking softly against the ground. The tip of his tail flicked back and forth, a twitch from his younger days. He glanced at the Grumbler, certain that it was part of all of this. He caught the eye of Chao, the white-haired warrior from a distant land, determined to find out what secrets the strange soldier withheld. But the wizard. He was sincere, If just a bit stupid.
Something heavy thudded deep below, echoing up like a thousand dull impacts, though Dali was no stranger to underground acoustics. He knew exactly what sort of things made that sound. Dead things. Dead things that weren't dead until recently. Normal, wholesome things don't sound like that, and long dead things can't scream. Saiorse seemed as disturbed as he was. Out of all of them, she seems the most... Not trustworthy, but... I don't know, honest? Another, softer rustle floated up from the deep, and Dali prayed that the sound wasn't what his gut told him it was. I gotta go down there, don't I? He answered himself instantly. Well you have to know, don't you?
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