He'd woken from his chrysalis with the slow shattering of obsidian, the black volcanic rock an apt metaphor for the dragon's entire being. A flex, a stretch, a yawn; then he'd pulled himself free, looking expectantly back over himself. As expected, he was longer again: by now, finally proportional, with a long and sweeping tail that would serve as a true rudder instead of a short keel. Dread had been satisfied with this, turning this way and that to admire himself. The rings were retrieved, put back on his horns with careful maneuvers--the other horn, this time, for some variety.
Then, he had looked over the flint chrysalises. Both were still silent, and still, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps they would simply mar his den forever. If they were never going to wake up (and he was seeing them more and more as irritating rocks, rather than sadly unhatched eggs), he would have to move his nest, or get rid of them somehow. For now, he still guarded them, though without the fervor of before. He went back to spending his time soaring the skies, skimming the surf, hunting and patrolling. Blight had left shortly after he'd awoken--off to help with something in some water-place, caves knew where. And now Dread was alone again, bar his single visiting fish-child. He didn't mind.
Bone found him napping, resting atop the "sun"-warmed sea stack, curled over the larger of the two flints. All else aside, it trapped heat well, and it was nice to bask on; maybe he could keep it-? He was shifting from one position to the next when the incoming thuds of distant wingbeats half-woke him. The black dragon lifted his head, turning bleary emberglow eyes to the horizon.
posting Bone, then Dread again, maybe Bone a second time then will tag