The feeling of the teeth around his throat, shark-like ridges cutting deep - it never seemed to go away. Phantom sensations of that plagued him, yet - those and a heavy, constricting weight atop him. Keeping him from moving even as he lay awake, knowing that he was safe and sound with his family sleeping around him. He could feel the heat of Monoceros around him, the natural hotness that Dread and Bone seemed to enjoy so much. And yet, icy-cold seeped into his back and furious breath, roaring, hatred billowed into his face.
He blinked, then screwed his eyes shut with a soft groan of "stop..."
Everything went numbingly still, algid magic flooding out from his back and moving flush against his hide. His mind cleared with the assurance, and he peeled the curtains off. His tail unfurled from about himself, wings billowing gently. Blight made a soft noise next to him, nearly stirred awake by the motion.
Svartis paused, and waited until all was still again.
just spamming some rolls, but anyone's welcome to join at any time
Quiet.
His head swung tiredly towards the entrance of their clifftop den, wings carrying him to the very edge of it. Cloying heat blasted into his face, rattling his fins. For a moment, he was tempted to just dive straight off the edge; it would certainly bring back the exuberance of being young and learning to fly. Asimona had taught him that.
She hadn't taught him how to deal with this unfamiliar sensation of - something that sat knotted in his chest... that made him hesitate to go out on his own. His stone was subdued, exhausted of passive stores of magicka usually spent on keeping himself cool. Monoceros was home, but the vents and stifling warmth wasn't fixtures he enjoyed. Svartis felt tired, sick - but was that because of the heat?
He shifted where he'd laid down, snout supported on a wing.
He was deflecting from himself, hiding the harsh reality of his emotions, their culminating point -
He...
He didn't like to feel weak.
Svartis closed his eyes again, a headache forming.
Sleep came again, restless as the raging twister in the distance.
His mind resurfaced groggily, eyes opening blearily to the same sights. Shaken out of a deep sleep by... something (acid, teeth, screeching) Svartis took a moment to himself. One of many already, and one of many to come.
Coolness lost, the black dragon sighed - though it was more of a huff that shook his conscious free of fog coating it.
Proactivity replaced it. If he hated feeling weak so much, he should work against it.
Simple as that.
Magic thrummed unfamiliarly between his eyes, but otherwise acted little as he steeled himself, shoved off of the cliffside, and hit the open air.
His wings moved out instinctively, if a bit unsteadily.
At least he could now blame just the wild winds of Monoceros. Any storm moving through Orion or Pisces's skies was nothing compared to the day-to-day weather in this cave. False moves could send him pinwheeling into any number of dangerous-looking stalactites.
Svartis glided along, overcompensating here, underreacting there. If he moved just right, he'd have to flap maybe once or twice.
Even with the air roaring in his ears, it was peaceful; enough that he nearly forgot why he'd come out in the middle of the night. Icy eyes blinked, scanning below. No sights of toxic green, and he'd settled into a wide circle.
His chest swelled with a great breath, but nothing but a scant few flakes instantly vaporized by Monoceros's heat sputtered from his jaws. No -
- no. You will listen, he hissed to his magic, his stone, all that he was.
Svartis sighed mid-air, taking another swelling beat before coasting down a straightaway thermal. Think about Dread, Bone, Mom - Blight, he urged himself, steeling himself with every name like he were a blade. Protecting them, supporting them, keeping them safe from those things.
His breast swelled, and he let loose a sputtering wave of sleet. It traveled a scarce few feet in front of him, and most of it wound up just smacking into his chest and wings as he flew ahead.
He bit down a frustrated roar.
Focus.
He was trying. Svartis tilted his head down towards the ground, and swept down to nearly meet it.
Breathe.
He tried. Svartis's chest swelled with all the breath he could take.
Go.
He would. Svartis slammed his wings out, mouth opening to release a blast of sleet guttering for the ground. Vapor rose, twining from every broken chunk that scattered. Given a specific target to focus on, maybe he could... ?
His wings flared out, tail glancing against the ground as he climbed back up. That'd been better, enough to bolster his bravado, his faith in himself; but not good enough. The consistency wasn't enough. Slush wouldn't impede those beasts aside from making them slip and slide.
Svartis gave himself about ten meters of height, sweeping into a tight spiral that whirled closer to the ground, and went to take another shot.
A solid column of permafrost thundered from his maw, crashing straight for the ground in a tinkling fury. As soon as the spray hit the earth a sizable menagerie of spines sprouted. They interwove as they rose to lengths of five or more feet, sparkling in the dim glow of the orbs.
The dragon couldn't help the victorious crow that echoed from his throat, and he curved out of his circling flight.
He'd managed to throw ice across the floor, form it into a wicked series of spikes that might've warded off that beast if he'd been able to do such a thing against it in combat. A protective wall, maybe; or a set of deadly knives to strike into it. Brute force would've been the way to go.
Intense cold would've stopped the Alpha better than that measly little puff of steam. How could he have expected it to get through that impenetrable hide?
Svartis climbed again, abandoning the ice for a moment and focusing elsewhere - perhaps the opposite. Turning steam to ice, thick and cloying. Unavoidable. His magic thrummed, echoing in his wingbeats and stirring a light mist into being.
His fins snapped out, tail ruddering sharply to the side as he pulled a fairly rough one-eighty towards the mist.
Svartis pumped his wings a few time, jolting through the fog before Monoceros could snatch it away and disperse it all. All the while, magic thrummed and thrummed, dancing through the air.
To no effect - but he chuckled nonetheless, as he dove through his makeshift cloud.
Svartis careened towards the wall, mist trailing after him like the streams of a jet's engine. Aiming at the floor had worked swell, but what about a sweeping dive for the more vertical surfaces of Monoceros... ? They were certainly more like targets he might meet in the air.
His throat seemed to expand with his breath, shrinking abruptly as he fired a column of ice and permafrost at the wall, sweeping up with powerful wingbeats so that it traced a curving path up the rock face.
That's more like it! he crowed.