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![Aquarius Colored Sketch [Gift]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/614fd721-1f62-4406-976e-de44301c33a1/dbtle38-cd23b23c-15f8-4ceb-a264-d93a3a055686.jpg/v1/crop/w_184,h_184,x_0,y_7,scl_0.184,q_70,strp/aquarius_colored_sketch__gift__by_deepershallows_dbtle38-92s-2x.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTAzMCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzYxNGZkNzIxLTFmNjItNDQwNi05NzZlLWRlNDQzMDFjMzNhMVwvZGJ0bGUzOC1jZDIzYjIzYy0xNWY4LTRjZWItYTI2NC1kOTNhM2EwNTU2ODYuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTkwMCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.HjcPFvGDAG4q4N3OiBdHsQGyoi7_XmPGceMPhO6Uw-8)
![Aquarius Colored Sketch [Gift]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/614fd721-1f62-4406-976e-de44301c33a1/dbtle38-cd23b23c-15f8-4ceb-a264-d93a3a055686.jpg/v1/crop/w_92,h_92,x_0,y_3,scl_0.092,q_70,strp/aquarius_colored_sketch__gift__by_deepershallows_dbtle38-92s.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTAzMCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzYxNGZkNzIxLTFmNjItNDQwNi05NzZlLWRlNDQzMDFjMzNhMVwvZGJ0bGUzOC1jZDIzYjIzYy0xNWY4LTRjZWItYTI2NC1kOTNhM2EwNTU2ODYuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTkwMCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.HjcPFvGDAG4q4N3OiBdHsQGyoi7_XmPGceMPhO6Uw-8)
Description
Dark blue paws paced, leaving deep, angrily smeared tracks in the previously perfect snow. Even last night’s drift and the unblemished landscape that lay around Roenden, which typically brought the strange vay as close to happiness as anything, couldn’t calm the blue vayron, his brows were drawn together and his lips peeled back against white teeth in a furious scowl. A bird tweeted somewhere off to his left, and his large head swiveled in its direction quickly, mouth snapping as his growl increased in warning. His antagonizer’s cries stilled, for the moment. The damnable creature had been going on for the entirety of the time he had been out here, and though he’d warned it many times over, it didn’t seem to be overly worried about him. It was as though it knew he had other, more pressing things that called for his annoyances and fits of rage. His eyes clouded for a moment as he thought back, mind propelling him into the early hours of a grey, clouded morning. A morning of bad news, horrid tempers, and concrete, albeit misplaced, resolve. Antigone had stood before him, her face set in a stubborn scowl, her eyes regarding the injured child at his paws with distaste.
“I don’t do humans, Whittaker.” she’d said, her voice unbelievably short and cold in light of the dire situation. He glowered at her, his expression commanding more on this statement, though he already knew what she would say, the reason she would give. “Not after what they’ve done to us, after these past years. They may be mellow now, but I won’t aid them in strengthening their numbers for another oppression. No.” The child coughed, she winced- then her face quickly masked over again, from a second of worry to disgust.
“And what of Tobias? Is he not one among the ranks of humanity?” Whit had commented, his voice calm yet. Their handler was a kind man, and a talented one. He commanded the respect of all his vayrons and paid them the very same in return. He raised a brow, not taking the situation too seriously at that moment. Antigone could be a pain in his arse, but she always came around. She always listened- healing was in her blood, whether she liked it or not. She had never wanted to go into the medical field, she’d have much rather gone towards thievery or taken a job as an escort- but she’d been in possession of the experience needed and the opportunity couldn’t have been passed up. Since, she’d made tremendous bounds forward, come into successes that amazed even he.
“Tobias is the exception.” she stated, brows drawing down over her pretty eyes. She refused to explain this further, merely kept calling their caretaker the ‘exception’. Why, though, he’d asked, if the good doctors and nurses have the power to relapse from their kindness and acceptance, how could their handler, a hunter and thief in a previous life, not? Out of all people, he seemed the most likely to revert, so why not? She refused to respond further, however.
Her expression was that of set resolution, but Whittaker proceeded- for another hour. Antigone did not move in her decision, though the child’s cough grew ever worse during their conversation, his skin a sickly translucent tone. Whittaker had found the cub wandering the forest days previous and had yet to be able to find its parents. From their, the child, which he thought was a male, had grown worse. At first it had been talkative, babbling and giggling in ways that only a young mancub could, a bright smile never leaving its face. Mere hours later saw a quiet child, and that night he had been in bed earlier than even Whittaker had- and Whit slept early. The next day the cough had began, he’d waited the span of three days in hope that the sickness would fade before finally giving in and seeking out Antigone. Though early in her journey, the spotted green female was a talented healer… when she wished.
He’d made a plea to Tobias next, shoving the child at their handler’s feet. He understood, and he tried to help- but healers in their near vicinity were scarce and the child couldn’t travel. In the end, he’d had to give up- but not before he’d supplied the child with any and all healing herbs he could in the form of a dark tea. His eyes were sad, regretful, but the blame was not his. If it was anyone’s, it was the child’s parents and Antigone’s.
Given her past, he could understand her mistrust towards the humans. Given the heart he knew she had, he could not understand her indifference towards the child’s plight. This morning, Whittaker had woken to find the boy cold and blue, his eyes glazed, tears streaked down his face. Dead.
The bird called again, and his muscles tensed as he shot a glare at it, reaction barely contained. It does no good, it does no good. The creature knows not what it does. Another call. No good, no good. It had been working at the dam that held his rage all morning, and there was so little left.
When the animal shrieked for what must have been the hundredth time that morning, Whittaker couldn’t bar down the stones any longer. His lips peeled back as far as they could go and he hurled himself into the air, jaws inches away from the bird’s soft body before it flew from its branch and began to make wide, uneven circles around him. His eyes stones, his shoulders quivering, he didn’t even notice when the snow beneath them started lifting, ribbons of storm gathering around his hips and rising ever higher. In moments the wind was howling, whistling through the long fur that graced his lower ears as his eyes pinned the bird, who was now having difficulties staying its path. As he took in breaths of the icy air and blew them back out, they frosted over and joined that of the maelstrom going on in his midst. Why could Antigone have not just listened, he thought, the words hard in his brain. The snowy whirlwind responded, growing in size. The child would have lived if only she’d obliged! And this damn bird, this antagonizing creature! Why could things just not go the way he saw them, didn’t they realize that his plan would be the most beneficial one? The most well thought out one? The wind screamed, and the blue vayron opened its mouth in an accompanying call.
Whittaker 1178
4(fb colored shaded) +5(1099WC) +3(cooresponding bg) +2(handler) +1(personal) +2(awakening) = 17
“I don’t do humans, Whittaker.” she’d said, her voice unbelievably short and cold in light of the dire situation. He glowered at her, his expression commanding more on this statement, though he already knew what she would say, the reason she would give. “Not after what they’ve done to us, after these past years. They may be mellow now, but I won’t aid them in strengthening their numbers for another oppression. No.” The child coughed, she winced- then her face quickly masked over again, from a second of worry to disgust.
“And what of Tobias? Is he not one among the ranks of humanity?” Whit had commented, his voice calm yet. Their handler was a kind man, and a talented one. He commanded the respect of all his vayrons and paid them the very same in return. He raised a brow, not taking the situation too seriously at that moment. Antigone could be a pain in his arse, but she always came around. She always listened- healing was in her blood, whether she liked it or not. She had never wanted to go into the medical field, she’d have much rather gone towards thievery or taken a job as an escort- but she’d been in possession of the experience needed and the opportunity couldn’t have been passed up. Since, she’d made tremendous bounds forward, come into successes that amazed even he.
“Tobias is the exception.” she stated, brows drawing down over her pretty eyes. She refused to explain this further, merely kept calling their caretaker the ‘exception’. Why, though, he’d asked, if the good doctors and nurses have the power to relapse from their kindness and acceptance, how could their handler, a hunter and thief in a previous life, not? Out of all people, he seemed the most likely to revert, so why not? She refused to respond further, however.
Her expression was that of set resolution, but Whittaker proceeded- for another hour. Antigone did not move in her decision, though the child’s cough grew ever worse during their conversation, his skin a sickly translucent tone. Whittaker had found the cub wandering the forest days previous and had yet to be able to find its parents. From their, the child, which he thought was a male, had grown worse. At first it had been talkative, babbling and giggling in ways that only a young mancub could, a bright smile never leaving its face. Mere hours later saw a quiet child, and that night he had been in bed earlier than even Whittaker had- and Whit slept early. The next day the cough had began, he’d waited the span of three days in hope that the sickness would fade before finally giving in and seeking out Antigone. Though early in her journey, the spotted green female was a talented healer… when she wished.
He’d made a plea to Tobias next, shoving the child at their handler’s feet. He understood, and he tried to help- but healers in their near vicinity were scarce and the child couldn’t travel. In the end, he’d had to give up- but not before he’d supplied the child with any and all healing herbs he could in the form of a dark tea. His eyes were sad, regretful, but the blame was not his. If it was anyone’s, it was the child’s parents and Antigone’s.
Given her past, he could understand her mistrust towards the humans. Given the heart he knew she had, he could not understand her indifference towards the child’s plight. This morning, Whittaker had woken to find the boy cold and blue, his eyes glazed, tears streaked down his face. Dead.
The bird called again, and his muscles tensed as he shot a glare at it, reaction barely contained. It does no good, it does no good. The creature knows not what it does. Another call. No good, no good. It had been working at the dam that held his rage all morning, and there was so little left.
When the animal shrieked for what must have been the hundredth time that morning, Whittaker couldn’t bar down the stones any longer. His lips peeled back as far as they could go and he hurled himself into the air, jaws inches away from the bird’s soft body before it flew from its branch and began to make wide, uneven circles around him. His eyes stones, his shoulders quivering, he didn’t even notice when the snow beneath them started lifting, ribbons of storm gathering around his hips and rising ever higher. In moments the wind was howling, whistling through the long fur that graced his lower ears as his eyes pinned the bird, who was now having difficulties staying its path. As he took in breaths of the icy air and blew them back out, they frosted over and joined that of the maelstrom going on in his midst. Why could Antigone have not just listened, he thought, the words hard in his brain. The snowy whirlwind responded, growing in size. The child would have lived if only she’d obliged! And this damn bird, this antagonizing creature! Why could things just not go the way he saw them, didn’t they realize that his plan would be the most beneficial one? The most well thought out one? The wind screamed, and the blue vayron opened its mouth in an accompanying call.
Whittaker 1178
4(fb colored shaded) +5(1099WC) +3(cooresponding bg) +2(handler) +1(personal) +2(awakening) = 17
Image size
1000x997px 1.49 MB
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