Darkstalker's Despair

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Darkstalker's Despair

Post by Sundrop on Mon Feb 20, 2017 1:55 am


His mother's enchanted necklace sat comfortably in her creaky rocking chairs royal-colored cushion. It's ruby center shining in the silver moonlight that bathed it. Darkstalker's blood ran cold as he realized how dangerous the situation became, how much danger his dear mother was in. Anger rose and his obsidian scales seemed to seethe with it as the dragon made his way back through the cavern's dull rocky hallway.

“It's all your fault.” he chocked out to his father through violent sobs that nearly racked his whole body. His father had his snowy brows furrowed and his aqua eyes reflected how troubled he truly felt, despite the cool-colored dragon's silence. He knows he's the reason she's gone. Darkstalker thought bittersweetly. Her blood is on his claws.

“If it really is...” The forsaken prince spoke lowly to Darkstalker. His voice cold like a winter's gusting wind as his eyes became dark and unreadable. The Nightwing noticed his father reaching across the table their family had shared dinner together only a night ago, his icy scales raking against the table's own texture. A silver glint visibly shone at Darkstalker from prince Arctic's claws; whatever he had grabbed had a blade on it.

Is he going to kill me, too? The Nightwing wondered. Mother isn't here to stop him now. He stopped himself from growling. Arctic fiddled with whatever was in his frozen talons as Darkstalker watched, not afraid of whatever his father might try.

“Take this knife and end me right here.” Arctic said with an angry snarl in his voice as he put his paw out towards Darkstalker. Darkstalker could see the frigid frozen scales his father had in great detail, how much darker they were due to the night kingdom's environment. Rolling around in some snow might have brought back the beauty in his scales that once was.

I can't kill him. Not yet. Darkstalker turned slightly so he could see his love, Clearsight, comforting his younger, fragile sibling Whiteout. Whiteout was letting out occasional screams and constant whimpers of pain; she was heartbroken to have lost her mother in such a way. Darkstalker's obsidian ears drooped at the sight of the two. His dark eyes turned to his father once more, a hardened glare staring right at him. Arctic's freezing talons still offered the Nightwing his knife. It was calling his name, telling the dragon to take the knife and paint the room blue with Icewing blood.

But I can't. He sighed mentally. I can't kill him in front of Whiteout.

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Animus Dragon
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