there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters
It's a still and snowy afternoon within the Wildwood, and Ronin has no business being a dragon, really. And yet, as he'd come across the clearing and its perfectly crisp, untouched snow, something within him wants to tear it up and disturb its peace. Before he knows it, he has unsheathed wide and leathery wings, and his considerable bulk is thrashing at the trees and the snowfall and ruining the perfect Deepfrost scene.
When he's finished, Ronin flumps onto his starry belly, snorting a flurry of snow into the air and burrowing into it. Coal black, he's about as obvious as it gets in terms of camouflage, and yet it doesn't seem to matter to the dragon. Because as he settles in to enjoy his (relatively minor) carnage, a jingling fills the air.
With a growl that almost seems to hum from his throat, he glances around. There's a further jingling - unbeknownst to Ronin, a jingle bug has just landed on his snout.
When he's finished, Ronin flumps onto his starry belly, snorting a flurry of snow into the air and burrowing into it. Coal black, he's about as obvious as it gets in terms of camouflage, and yet it doesn't seem to matter to the dragon. Because as he settles in to enjoy his (relatively minor) carnage, a jingling fills the air.
With a growl that almost seems to hum from his throat, he glances around. There's a further jingling - unbeknownst to Ronin, a jingle bug has just landed on his snout.
ronin
