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 Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2008 5:45 pm
Over... under... around... swing... don't stop moving.
It was strange, perhaps, to think of what one might be doing, thinking such an erratic pattern of thought... but let's observe further, shall we?
Alright--let yourself go... NOW!
A loud, thunderous impact with the ground announced the presence of one dragon amidst the many living upon the isle of the SandPainters. Rising from the rather harsh-looking landing the lithe male took, a flicker of sunlight glinting from both a chocolate-and-tangerine scale, he shook the sweat from his brow as he allowed his wings a rest from the strenuous exercise they'd been formerly put-to.
Some ways from the Forbidden Forest, in a clear plains setting near the camp that belonged to the legendary Kitxoone, the young Painter seemed bound-and-determined, one way or the other, to accomplish something...
And so, from his perch on the ground, he again took wing, beginning his aerial training once more; shock-blue eyes focused with ardent precision.
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Posted: Sat Mar 22, 2008 10:11 pm
The sky was a beautiful, almost cloudless blue, and the songs of birds were the only sounds that penetrated the peaceful silence of the wood. The female painter sighed, settling her head onto her tail as she curled up for an afternoon nap under a tree. Her bark – like patterns seemed to meld slightly with the bark of the tree she was under.
Peace, quiet, and....
CRASH!
The painter looked up, blinking sleepily as she tried to focus on an awkward lump that had just apparently fallen out of the sky in front of her.
It was a male, his brown and orange hide glistening with sweat as he gingerly folded his wings after what looked like a particularly nasty crash – landing.
After a minute, he seemed to have recovered, and launched once more into the sky.
“Well, that’s the end of that.” She thought to herself, placing her head back onto her tail and closing her eyes.
After a minute, the birds had still not returned. What on Hal’ia was that painter doing?
With a grumble, she hauled herself to her feet, and plodded out into the sunlight, squinting up into the sky to try and locate the male.
“Hello?” She called, rearing up onto her hind legs to better see.
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Posted: Tue Mar 25, 2008 8:07 pm
Over, under... turn tighter! he told himself.
Ambitious was an understatement, when it came to this young male--his desire to be the top-of-the-line was utterly boundless, and it showed in his efforts.
I must be the best--I must be good enough to compete with anyone... Though... he wasn't always the brightest when it came to his talents. Really, his aerial dynamics were impeccable--he was reaching for more, when he already had plenty. Heh... getting tired.
It was a moment before he registered, past the rush of the streaming wind along his fins, that a statement below had been made--a call, to whomever might be listening, he mused. Perhaps even to him, since he was the only Painter for quite some distance.
In his desire to find the subject in question belonging to this inquiry, he peeled his attention away from his work, and, in the midst of a backward roll, soon found himself rather dangerously low to the ground, emitting a screech of both surprise and fear as he tried his hardest to pry apart from gravity's grip... finding only that in his efforts came failure.
Another painful crash into the ground send him ricocheting off of the soil and plant life beneath him, and into a tumultuous tumble for some number of feet in his stead, hitting every available surface as he tried to stop himself. Being born in the sign of Aries, he was drawn to accidents and injuries--and he certainly proved that with all his draconic might.
When, finally, he came to a stop, his head rose drearily from his dizzied haze, shaking instinctively to right his messy vision. When he tried to stand himself up, however, his front talon gave way beneath him, and with another screech of anguish, he let himself fall, again. There was no visible injury--but perhaps it was internal. Nevertheless, it seemed to be ailing him intensely.
Great... he thought, wincing with his pain. That's a real setback...
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Posted: Wed Mar 26, 2008 11:16 pm
The male came into view once more, and it was soon evident that he was training for something.
Taimi watched in awe as he gracefully corkscrewed through the sky, graceful as a merdrac underwater.
He must have been training for some time. “Hello?” She called again, hoping to speak to this male. Who was he, to know his way around the sky as well as he did?
Apparently, this was not the best time to say anything. In the middle of what looked to be a complicated aerial manoeuvre, he veered to one side, plunging towards the ground.
With another almighty CRASH! The painter hit the ground, causing Taimi to wince. He skidded along the ground for a moment, and seemed to recover before testing his feet.
After that screech, it was obvious that everything was not alright.
Taimi padded over, and inspected the leg with a critical eye.
“Sprained.” She said, looking at the male apologetically. “Sorry. What were you doing?”
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Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2008 4:39 pm
Lifting himself into a pose atop his haunches, the draconic male settled the main focus of his weight on his front-right talon, curling the left one beneath him to save it from the force of gravity beneath his bone, muscle, and scale. Shaking his head again to clear the rest of the incessantly clinging grass blades, gently brushing himself with his tail for a final clean, he finally turned toward the one who'd seen his entire fiasco; the one who had likely been calling him.
"Oh... no apology needed," he assured, flicking the limp wrist a little to test its movement capabilities. "I was the one who lost focus, after all." Upon turning his bright blue eyes upward, again, he seemed to focus on the feminine one with some kind of interest, analyzing her face as though possibly curious about one thing or another. "My, your markings are wonderfully intricate," he told her, chuckling a bit dismissively. "But to answer your question, I was... training," he explained. "I was hoping to be able to join Kitxoone's camp someday."
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Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 12:08 am
Taimi slowly leaned backwards from the male’s gaze, a little spooked by the intensity of his gaze. Perhaps he had hit his head harder than she had thought?
“Thanks.” She said, looking down. “They’re useful as a camouflage.”
“Why don’t you just go along? From what I’ve heard, they’re desperate for painters, to fight some war or whatever.” She shook her head disdainfully. “From what I’ve seen, you’re pretty good already.” This was, of course, an understatement.
“I prefer to not get caught up in shenanigans like that.” She turned away, and trotted towards a shadier place. “It’s sad to see painters warring amongst their own kind.”
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Posted: Fri Apr 18, 2008 11:09 am
Beforehand a bit less clumsy on his feet, the Painter had quite nearly forgotten about his injury as the female spoke, but when he tested it to support himself, it still proved itself tender.
"I could imagine--I mean, my markings might perhaps be useful in an Autumn-washed forest, but besides, I can't really see the use in white-and-orange blotches," he admitted genially, his broad voice sharp as any Arien's.
When she spoke of her disdain for war, however, his cheerful attitude slowly sobered. "Well... without war, could there be peace? We need a basis for comparison, after all." With a bit of a playful smirk (more toward his own emotions than toward her), the male slowly began to follow, using his other three talons much more than the one previously injured. "And... well, oftentimes, I feel that 'good' simply isn't good enough," he continued, toward her former compliment. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but by experience, I've learned that it isn't 'good' that keeps one surviving. 'Great' or 'excellent', maybe."
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Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2008 9:24 pm
“Ahh, well sometimes it’s nice to have frivolous markings. I would have liked perhaps a bit of fluro pink or green in here somewhere, but my markings are designed to be useful.” She smiled ruthfully, ducking her head.
“Way back when there was peace without war.” She replied, cocking her head to one side. “Painters had no use for the word. Peace always can exist without war, and vice-versa.”
“There’s always a fine line between ‘Excellent’ and ‘Obsessive’”
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Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2008 10:53 pm
The male gave a hesitant little chuckle at that, thinking about if she had had the 'fluro pink or green' that she'd desired. "I don't think that they'd fit in well with your current color scheme..." He laughed a little as he trailed away from that one.
However, her commentary afterwards seemed to quiet his laughter. "Hm. Perhaps at one time, there may have been one without the other--but this world needs balance; it is the way of nature that, if something becomes awry from the normal pattern, it shall be either destroyed or silenced." He chuckled. "In fact, you could call that war, if you like--even nature does such things to herself, at times. Does a volcano not destroy and ravange? Earthquakes and fires? Surely, they leave better things behind--but that is the nature of life. And again, I must return to balance." He seemed a slight bit put-off by her final statement, however, and quieted. "Truly, there is... and at times, that line becomes a blur to me, I'm afraid."
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