Demon, Death Himself. Grim set his mind to the task he had set himself. Every day now he had come to this room, practicing his flight, stretching and strengthening his wings. He flitted from shadow to shadow, taking advantage of the complex gusts moving through the cavern. He now looked straight at the whirlwind at the center, he would master this. He would master his flight and become a shadow himself if it was the last thing he did. As he dove toward the center images flashed through his mind. A dying fox, lifeblood draining from its' neck in small spurts, a deer, looking almost dead, worshipping a tree that would never answer back. ”Fools” he thought bitterly, as he felt the strong gusts of the twister tugging at his wings. He felt overcome quickly, his heart skipped several beats as he felt himself being pulled inward toward the twister, trying to gain speed to escape by twisting around and following the wind but quickly being caught in the midst of it. He tumbled end-over-end as he flapped his wings uselessly, he felt his wings strain and almost snap with the pressure of the wind, his body being bent in ways it never should be, feathers being ripped out.

It seemed to be an eternity before he was spat out and thrown against the wall of the cavern. He was bleeding in several places, sore in every inch of his body. He had failed.. he would practice more, before attempting this again.

”Thoughts”

The falcon let a gargled sound of pain out as he picked himself up. Yes, he had failed, but he would never give up if it was the last thing he did. He stared at the whirlwind in stony determination. He lunged himself forward toward the base of it. He felt himself get knocked around by the battering wind, feathers being ripped out as the gale snatched at them, his wings being overstretched to the point of scorching pain screeching through them. But then.. he realized something, he saw himself soaring up, farther and farther until he flew out the top of the tornado, before making limping glide toward the nearest ledge he could. "I did it... I DID IT!!!' If the little falcon had a voice, he would have shrieked in happiness, the corners of his mouth were curled up, his eyes watering. "Now just to master it" He knew if he could master this twister, then he could fly through anything.

Notes: He will continue to attempt this until he either gets a critical success, or somebody intervenes btw.

The little falcon puffed up his chest now, emboldened by his feat, before diving off the ledge and into the midst of the twister again. He struggled again, feeling his body aching, strained and stretched painfully, before once again shooting through the top of the twister. He landed on the same ledge, his body screaming in pain, his breath heaving. He was ecstatic, all his practice had been worth it, he just had to keep practicing.

Notes:

Heavy wingbeats signalled the dragon's return. He banked around the tornado, half-ignoring it, absent: his mind was on his meal-to-be, a small cave deer clutched in the talons of his hind legs. Ember eyes were fixed on his ledge high above, a den full of shiny gems, baubled objects, and old bits of tattered armor he'd gathered, among other things. His treasure hoard awaited, as did his food, and a good, healthy bit of sunning himself under the orb-lights, to boot.

Life was good; the dragon was, for once, fairly happy and relaxed.

His tail lashed behind him, steadying his flight, and he swept past the maelstrom and toward the wall without a second glance. He hardly noticed the bird that had been practicing flight with it--not at all uncommon here, regardless--nor did he see that it had flown off toward its own ledge.

The dragon's body rocked back and up, heaving into a vertical position, as he reached the stone. Wings beat heavily to stop his movement, and the feet pitched forward to lob the carcass onto the stone before spreading claws to take his weight. Dread's body then rocked forward, balancing on his wings, and he took a couple of swift steps forward, digging into his meal.

He filled his jaws with meat, and tossed it back, head tilting as he gulped it down. Between bites he turned, peering about curiously to see where the bird had gone, and wondering in a vague sort of way if it had been his friend, the eagle Glory.

"BIRD?" he bellowed, his voice a deep rumble but his tone childishly inquisitive. "WHERE HAVE YOU GONE?"

@Grim

Grim was so exuberant in his victories over the tornado that he didn't even care to avoid the voice of the other creature, flying down to the shelf below to eye level, before realizing the size of the massive reptile in front of him. He made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat as he tried to screech, pressing himself into a crevice in the wall, his eyes wide with fright. "Please don't eat me Please don't eat me Please don't eat me I'm small! I'm not even a full meal!"

"Thought is all I have so here's what it looks like"

Notes: @Dread

The dragon lifted his head, staring at the falcon that had flown to his ledge.

He didn't need to eat it; it'd be barely a mouthful, with feathers, and anyway he had a decent meal here. But it was not Glory--that much he could see. Still, from Glory he had learned that birds of prey were apparently friends, and after a moment of staring he tore loose the smallest scrap of meat--still probably too large for the falcon to swallow whole, by any means--and with a toss of his great head he lobbed it to skid over the dusty, charred stone and land near the bird's feet.

He wasn't sure why it was hiding. Was it afraid of him? He was too reptilian, too indifferent, to take any pride in a tiny stranger's cowering, and so he spoke instead. His voice was deeply bass, with a rumble, and as he shook his head afterward (like a dog shaking off water, perhaps to rid himself of some itch), his spines all rattled and clattered.

"I am not going to eat you! You are too small. Just do not touch my shinies," he warned, a narrowing of his ember eye fixing on Grim.

And indeed the den was full of them.

The ledge tilted back, meeting the roof of the cave at a slight angle, so that the edge of the rock jutted out into the "sun" light. The rear, however, was darker, a cavern of its own, full of treasures. It was a true dragon's hoard. A great crystal gave off a constant, soft chiming sound where it lay; scatterings of armor scraps, baubled gems, shining gemstones that had once perhaps belonged to living Gembound, and even simple shiny rocks all covered the ground. The dragon edged toward them protectively, even while taking another jawful of meat to swallow down.

For all his size and even with Grim's proximity to his treasure, though, he just didn't seem all that aggressive. Watching the falcon with one eye, he continued eating: obviously his current priority.

@Grim

Grim edged towards the meat uncertainly, dragging the hefty steak back to his crevice before the dragon mentioned "Shinies". As he was curious what these shinies would be, he waddled over to the edge, gripped on with his claws, and swung upside down to see them, his eyes widening as he saw the hoard in front of him. "So these are his shinies, that's.. a lot." He made a gurgled sound in the back of his throat that would have been a laugh before he flipped himself up, hopping back over to the meat and taking a beakful.

"Thought is all I have so here's what it looks like"

Notes: @Dread

Dread edged closer to the shinies, which lay at the back of the ledge where the ledge met the ceiling, as the bird peered at them. He stared warily at the bird from the corner of one eye--it looked like it'd be fast, and should it snatch one and go, he might have a hard time catching up. A soft hiss escaped him, but when Grim went back to feeding, so did he.

Once he had taken his fill, he plodded back to his treasure at the rear of the den and laid down upon it, curling with a loud exhale to coil over the gems and crystals, the armor, and the baubles. He curled his wings over his body, hiding his long, spiked tail from sight, and peered over at the bird.

Maybe it was just a lesser. It wasn't talking--perhaps it was like the bats. Memory of the illness he'd gotten eating them struck him, and he winced mentally, then shook himself again like a dog. The spines clattered.

Well, he could let it stay here, he supposed--as long as it didn't take his things!--and it could eat his scraps. Maybe it'd be useful, actually. "Do you understand words?" he asked, a little more irritably. If it didn't, it might be tough to communicate, but maybe it could learn, anyway. "If you find things for me to kill I can feed us both. And you can tell me if things come to take my shinies, and wake me up, while I am asleep! But don't take my things," he added again, hastily, curling over the hoard with a narrowing of his eyes.

@Grim

The little falcon dropped down to the lower ledge, still eating at the hearty steak that the dragon had given him. He nodded at the dragon asking if he could speak, then drew a talon across his own throat and made a gargling sound in the back of his throat, trying to convey that he couldn't speak himself. He nodded again when the dragon gave him the offer of food, he couldn't bring down large creatures like the dragon, and it seemed that very few smaller creatures hung around Monoceros. He thought it was a good deal, food for helping protect the dragon's hoard.

"Thought is all I have so here's what it looks like"

Notes: @Dread

Dread watched, relaxing over his hoard, and thinking.

So this thing could understand, then--it wasn't a piece of prey, a Lesser--but it couldn't speak..? That was a new category, to him; everyone he'd met thus far either spoke and understood, or not. Maybe it was just a really smart Lesser?

He didn't care, too much; he was curious, but more than that he was lazy, and as a dragon who had just eaten and was now curled on his hoard, he didn't have much to say, anyway. Dread was not a talkative type.

So he lay there, and watched the falcon, his eyes drifting ever closer to closing. For a long moment it appeared that he might just fall asleep right then and there.

Then, he remembered Glory.

His head came swiftly up, and tilted, and his voice rumbled forth again. "Have you met Glory?" he asked, still not bothering to introduce himself.

@Grim