there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters
The sun has made its cycle through the sky and has disappeared again, sinking away beneath the horizon and leaving Ronin alone. It suits him well enough - the world boils around him, and there is nothing but the world beneath his wings and the horror that tears out of his throat. It isn't fire, not quite - too silent and too bright for that - but it's hot enough to blast the sands of the desert to glass.
His size and comparative grace are at odds with the storm that roils within - reptilian blue eyes ever seek new destruction, and at the sight of a few travellers winding along the road below, Ronin wastes no time. He is all but invisible against the stars, such that those he hones in on don't see him coming until it's far too late. Something bright and deadly lights up in his throat, and as soon as his jaws open, it will be too late for them to run.
His size and comparative grace are at odds with the storm that roils within - reptilian blue eyes ever seek new destruction, and at the sight of a few travellers winding along the road below, Ronin wastes no time. He is all but invisible against the stars, such that those he hones in on don't see him coming until it's far too late. Something bright and deadly lights up in his throat, and as soon as his jaws open, it will be too late for them to run.
ronin
