[PRP] Of What Do Herdbeasts Dream (Khazariath/Mnemosynth)

[Sweet Symmetry]

Mnemosynth curled her tail around her small frame, large eyes set on the pen of free-feeding herdbeasts. Innocent, minds dull, they had no awareness of the impending doom in the form of those overhead shadows. Their memories of being hunted and chased made them fearful of dragonkind, but little more. Lucky them.

Mnesyn watched them, unable to tear her gaze away as a dragon settled in to hunt. Memories stirred within her. Dressed in night's fine cloak, that dragon could have been Eskharath, or Aviforth, or Aureliath. Her mama had told stories of them. The auntie who might have been. The uncles and their sacrifices.

Futility leaked from every pore, human and dragon alike. Death surrounded them just as it did those herdbeasts. With a shiver, she drew her wings closer, turning away from the feasting, death-bringing dragon. Small furrows had been gouged into the dirt, the physical sign of restless thoughts and weary hearts.

They had to fight, of course. She knew it. Her siblings must surely know it as their duty. There was no escaping the evils of Thread, and like so many before and so many to come, they would rise and flame it from the skies. Some might even survive the end of the Pass. The thought compounded her misery more.

We fight until there is nothing left of this world but ash and ember... She mused aloud, thoroughly lost in the grey fogs of her melancholy.

demon_pachabel

 

[demon_pachabel]

Hunger had brought Khazariath to the pen, as it did most dragons. But not only food awaited him there, flesh given to keep the world spinning - and even dragons gave their own inch, their own pound of flesh to the cycle. He'd not noticed the hatchling green at the side to the pen, taking in the cruel reality of it all until her musings drew his attention.

He understood, of course, the bitterness of it. Only a few turns, but he wasn't much older than she was. She understood it as quickly as he had.

And each sweet bliss is paid for in pain and perseverance while we keep the world turning, he agreed, moving to the edge of the pen to peer down upon his small cousin. Yes, a tangled web of relation, but his sire and dame had been clutchmates to the sire of the clutch that had been mothered by her sire's sister. Perhaps not the most simplified version, but nothing in a dragon's life was straightforward.

But you do have the right of it.

Sweet Symmetry