charlie
It was uncharacteristically warm for late Leafchange, a day that made the Temple’s spires shimmer as if trying to pretend they were still in Longheat's gentle embrace. Atop the tallest peak of the roof, a black dragon sprawled, massive wings half-furled in a lazy stretch. Her claws—long and curved like sickles—dug into the ancient stone as if testing whether the Temple could hold her weight. It could, but only just. In this body, anyway.
All around her, bright-red blood trickled in thin rivulets, painting the roof tiles a shockingly vibrant hue. Charlie had dragged up a small collection of unfortunate creatures: two luxere and a handful of goats, each now spread out like grisly confetti. The odd warmth coaxed the blood into a sort of glossy paint that gleamed under the midday sun, an offering to Dygra more gaudy and beautiful than any stained-glass window could hope to be.
Shifting her bulk, the dragon’s ruby horns glinted mischievously, as if winking at the world below. Her tongue, dark and forked, flicked over her teeth with a sound that might have been a purr—or a stifled giggle, if dragons ever giggled. A low rumble bubbled in her throat, a playful greeting to the passersby who dared glance upward. Yet there was something oddly jaunty about the way she settled in, as though this violent display was more of a dramatic flourish than a dire threat.
The Temple’s gargoyles, carved and earnest, looked like stiff old neighbours too nervous to complain. The dragon gave them a teasing swipe of her tail’s spade-tip, as if daring them to comment on her décor. A sudden breeze made her wings ripple, and for a moment, the scene looked almost festive—if one squinted just right.
All around her, bright-red blood trickled in thin rivulets, painting the roof tiles a shockingly vibrant hue. Charlie had dragged up a small collection of unfortunate creatures: two luxere and a handful of goats, each now spread out like grisly confetti. The odd warmth coaxed the blood into a sort of glossy paint that gleamed under the midday sun, an offering to Dygra more gaudy and beautiful than any stained-glass window could hope to be.
Shifting her bulk, the dragon’s ruby horns glinted mischievously, as if winking at the world below. Her tongue, dark and forked, flicked over her teeth with a sound that might have been a purr—or a stifled giggle, if dragons ever giggled. A low rumble bubbled in her throat, a playful greeting to the passersby who dared glance upward. Yet there was something oddly jaunty about the way she settled in, as though this violent display was more of a dramatic flourish than a dire threat.
The Temple’s gargoyles, carved and earnest, looked like stiff old neighbours too nervous to complain. The dragon gave them a teasing swipe of her tail’s spade-tip, as if daring them to comment on her décor. A sudden breeze made her wings ripple, and for a moment, the scene looked almost festive—if one squinted just right.
so hey, let's be friends
I'm dying to see how this one ends
I'm dying to see how this one ends
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
