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 Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 8:46 pm
This thread is a journal for Bennali Sundragyn only, don't post here unless she states otherwise.  Growth points: 0/65 News: ~ November 10th, 2008- This journal was opened! **Just a little something to get you started. What you write in this journal is up to you, though it should involve you rping that you're interacting with your dragon. First though, you have to get your dragon. Write a little story/description of a dream you've had or just one you've made up. I'll read this and use it to design your dragon. Please, don't say anything about the dragon itself, just the dream. Once I post in here with your dragon, you're free to keep posting whatever you want. About Arkille:This little guy seems to have a trio of spheres that are extensions of his consciousness. He can control them and learn about his surroundings through them. One sphere seems to "see" another to "hear" and the third to "smell." His memory is very, very sharp and he can remember odd facts repeated to him once far into the future or things he has witnessed down to the oddest details. Physically, his wings are useless for flight, but his legs are quite strong and he uses his tail/wings as rudders when running. Unfortunately, his lung capacity is about normal, so his speediness is generally reserved to bursts and runs of several minutes.
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Posted: Tue Nov 11, 2008 8:09 pm
~A Dream~
The soccer field was full of eggs. They were small, perfectly spherical, and pulsing; they didn't seem to be any colour at all. They rested on grass or gravel. Their few caretakers, green and smooth-skinned, picked their way through them carefully, going about their mysterious business.
I did not know why they were there. They had not been there yesterday. I had never seen their like. They had spoken to no one. They had simply arrived, in black ships with multicoloured lights.
The eggs began to hatch, a few at a time, into small white creatures of undefinable shape, with beady black eyes. On two shapeless legs, one wandered away from its siblings and its guardians and came to me, where I stood at the edge of the field. It was knee-high, and it addressed me in a sweet voice.
She, or possibly it, spoke perfect English. It seemed natural that she did. She had never seen a creature like myself, nor had many of her species. She asked me questions, about my family, my biology, my culture. I was equally curious about her, asking about her own species' ways. She knew much of her people, but did not know why they had crossed the stars to lay their eggs in this disused soccer field. A few things she said to me led me to believe that they were a hermaphroditic species.
By this time the eggs were all hatched, and the little white creatures had grown into smaller, white versions of the green-skinned guardians. They had a beak-like face, still with the beady black eyes. They had two legs, muscular, and clawed like a bird's. Their shape, overall, was vaguely chicken-like, with a short tail that wagged from side to side. Sprouting from their backs were four pairs of arms, ending in clawed hands. Membraneous skin stretched between the arms right down to the wrist, giving the impression that large, fan-like fins sprouted from their back.
My friend had also grown. She could almost look me in the eye. She was eager to see the world, to see and experience everything she could. I was eager to show her everything. We took a pair of cross-country skis from my father's basement, and a pair of snowshoes, and trekked through the fresh snow.
Our path took us, in a strange circuitous way, through the field where the young alien creatures frolicked. The green guardians, clearly the adult form of my friend's species, glared at us suspiciously, not liking my presence or my friend's association with me. There was a secret, my friend told me, about why they were here. She did not know what it was. She didn't think it was invasion. She thought it was innocent.
It occurred to me that if other people knew of these young aliens growing in this field, then they might do them harm. I didn't wish that.
I found some shortbread in the pocket of my coat as we prepared to return home. I gave some excitedly to my friend, insisting that she must try it if she was serious about experiencing everything.
She was reluctant, but at last took it in one of her many hands and raised it to her beaky mouth. She immediately gagged and was mildly ill. As I started to ask her what sort of food her species did eat, as it clearly was not shortbread, I felt the dream fading, and reality rushing back upon me...
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