ORIGIN

Dragon grunted. He'd seen the thing, but he wasn't really sure if he should eat it. It was... well, it'd been sentient? He thought, anyway. And it probably tasted gross. Then again, he was absolutely ravenous.

"...I'll try it. Soon," he grumbled non-committally. The bird had apparently ignored both of his questions, so he settled back into the water, sulky. He'd wanted to know if Eve's cries had been voice or magic, and how Cetus was, but apparently his words had gone in one ear and out the other--or, rather, in two ears, and out both others. Damn birds.

"Thanks for bringing me the news. I'll come back just as soon as I've climbed the damn Spire." He huffed a little, dipping his head under the water and blowing bubbles with his nostrils, as if it were a way to pass the time. After a moment he popped back up again, blinking the water away.

"Let me know if you see Bog. Last I saw he was bolting off after you to be sure you were all right. Haven't seen him since."

Well, it was one question answered, anyway. He sighed, floating quietly, while he considered.

So the swamp was all right; Eve would see to Bog. Both of those were reliefs. He grumbled, entertaining himself by blowing bubbles under the river, watching them spiral up and vanish, illuminated by the Spire's distant glow.

He amused himself for awhile like this; eventually he used his jaws to carefully scrape and pluck a pebble from the rocky shore.

Then he tossed it, quickly submerging, staring up. As it fell back down he lunged up and caught it in his teeth again, feeling around with his tongue until he was able to toss it up once more. He did this four or five times before finally missing; the stone plummeted, falling into the river.

For another hour he simply lay there, impatient, antsy. Eventually he decided to go and look for the moth carcass--maybe he could find a stone to safeguard, or at the very least, try it on as a meal. It might be disgusting, but food was food.

Slowly, cautiously, the alligator began to drag himself from the river.

It took the alligator some time to find the dead moth; the creature didn't seem to be rotting, bar a little fluid leaking out of the back.

Dragon--still dripping, and limping heavily--nudged at the body here and there, searching for a gem. He couldn't find one, though; there simply wasn't one on its carapace, that he could see. Perhaps it wasn't a Gembound...?

Next he found himself staring at the wings. He wanted them--but more than that, he didn't want to damage them. Call it a strange sort of respect, but destroying the wings of their fallen ally just seemed wrong. He seized them carefully by their roots, pulling them away from the moth's body by bracing himself against it and tugging. Then he dragged them off, sneezing at the shimmer of moth dust that filled the air around him and smeared his snout and jaws. Laying them carefully on the rock, he then went back to the moth, again.

Powerful jaws squeezed the body; it was soft, furry, something like a cave deer, yet its skin seemed thicker, or perhaps more... hard? He squeezed harder, and when his teeth went through one by one they plumped in with tiny "pops." He could feel the liquid moth insides squeeze past his teeth, and it didn't taste good, despite his growling stomach.

A harder grip with his jaws and a tug, and suddenly there came a tearing snap, the soft and fur-scaled exoskeleton suddenly giving way. He winced as the stench and taste of week-dead giant moth filled the air. But food was food, and an alligator was hardly one to turn away from carrion; he'd eaten his share of insects, as a hatchling. And so, he ate. Not much; he wasn't really sure if this was poisonous. Hell, it would probably be better if-...

He backed off with a mouthful, tossing it up and gulping it down, then regarded the dead moth with a critical eye.

Fire. I'll cook it.

He inhaled slowly, jaw swinging open, a glittering glow filling his mouth. The fire that came, however, quickly ignited the moth-parts clinging to the alligator's jaws, and with a shout of alarm he felt the fire burn at him. Thinking fast, he plunged his face back into the moth's corpse, the fire sizzling out; now some of the guts were cooked, at least, but the last thing he'd needed was another burn.

With a sigh, the gator took a couple more bites and swallows--but the burning hurt, and made it hurt to eat. Leaving the majority of the dead moth for later--or for someone else--Dragon turned, waddling his way back to the river, grimacing each time his wounded leg touched the ground.

He'd rest, then come back, get the wings... and try to climb the Spire. It was about time, anyway, that he did something other than laze about.

Then... he would go home.