// I've been trying to fix my pride //
She'd be wrong about him not wanting to hear more monster stories. He'd appreciate any and all stories, and is currently still letting his imagination run wild about what terrible things these bones once belonged to that they're wandering around and under like any regular organic forest. "Some of these seem bigger than sand sharks," he muses, "but I suppose they eat something, so maybe there's a whole buried ecosystem." It's intriguing, but not enough to dig further, not that either of them have the answer regardless.
Though, he will dig for this turtle shell, and is actively doing so. He's got enough uncovered now that he's using his whole forearm instead of just his palm, smoothing sand away like it's nothing more than the grit of something polishing secret treasures. "Oh yeah, this is gonna be great!" Excitement hums through him as more of the ground is flung and carved aside. He doesn't need to excavate the entire creature, just enough of the shell that he can see the pattern of different bones fusing together in massive bony scales and plates along the carapace.
One is enough of a shield for him, to fit along his arm and rise above and below it well. Grinning, he conjures flame to his side, thin and white-hot as he sets it like a heated scalpel against the border of bone. Each fused connection where the plates join is the line he traces with the precision of fire, a welder's tracing. Smoke rises where bone shears apart, yielding to the extreme temperature and lick of flame. Sand curls and shimmers into glass near the edges, catching sunlight in brilliant displays as it tumbles free with new weight and shine.
Though, he will dig for this turtle shell, and is actively doing so. He's got enough uncovered now that he's using his whole forearm instead of just his palm, smoothing sand away like it's nothing more than the grit of something polishing secret treasures. "Oh yeah, this is gonna be great!" Excitement hums through him as more of the ground is flung and carved aside. He doesn't need to excavate the entire creature, just enough of the shell that he can see the pattern of different bones fusing together in massive bony scales and plates along the carapace.
One is enough of a shield for him, to fit along his arm and rise above and below it well. Grinning, he conjures flame to his side, thin and white-hot as he sets it like a heated scalpel against the border of bone. Each fused connection where the plates join is the line he traces with the precision of fire, a welder's tracing. Smoke rises where bone shears apart, yielding to the extreme temperature and lick of flame. Sand curls and shimmers into glass near the edges, catching sunlight in brilliant displays as it tumbles free with new weight and shine.
Iskra
// But that shit's broken //
