tag drop! some are still placeholders bc i’m bald and can’t think anymore (:

@histeeth​

The air is as bitter as the frost it carries – whipping all around in a violent torrent that attested to the nest of dragons they’ve struggled to try and traverse to. Jahliqai watches the fog all around with a lifted arm that braces against the stinging cold (he almost would prefer the wintry touch of Coerthas than this). Jahliqai parts from everyone else – all itching to wet their feet for what these lands may bring in their own way (of course, he does not object – aching for silence). 

And just when he thinks he’s alone, Jahliqai sharply turns his head to a strange sound (an echo – intangible from reality; a call from blood he knows is not his). From the mist, appears another. From inside his chest, a bloom of fire.

     “ . . . “ His eye never leaves the other, as though transfixed by something beyond them both. He feels it – a groan in his veins that echoes up to scales of his back, all the way up to the horns in a drawling hiss –– a smothered bellow from the buried wyrm of old: ‘dra––n ki––n.’