Post by Elowynne on Aug 20, 2009 10:42:47 GMT -5
Ezma sat upon the suspended bridge over the Terrace of The Makers, deep in thought. As if suspecting the direction those thoughts had taken, her new companion nuzzled her hair, snuffling gently. The bridge was narrow but the large proto-drake perched upon it with a grace Ezma had not expected him to have. The heat of the proto-drake’s breath washed over her and Ezma had to stare back in surprise. The air of his exhalation was warm against the chill of her skin, far warmer than she had felt since the moment of her death. She swallowed hard before turning to the small package the large beast had brought with him.
Carefully she opened the box to see that inside was a letter and another longish box. Curiosity flooding her near-stoic expression, Ezma opened the parchment to find it full of barely legible handwriting. Attempting to translate the cramped script, Ezma read between the lines enough to see that it was a letter from Brann Bronzebeard detailing the scant history they had on the proto-drake. Injured and nursed back the health, the creature was hers now as a reward for her assistance in exploring Ulduar.
Another wash of surprising heat against her cheek had her putting down the letter and standing to take a good look at him. The proto-drake watched her with dark, intelligent eyes but did not move as she ran one hand down his neck, feeling the texture of his rust-colored scales. At first glance, he appeared constructed, the pattern and whorls of his skin and scales giving the illusion of struts, screws and plating. The symbols upon his wings seemed to glow with a fire that appeared to come from within him but his skin, while warmer than anything living Ezma had touched, was not burning hot. It was as if he was a Titan creation made flesh. Perhaps he was.
Not moving her hand from his neck, Ezma turned her head to once more meet that disconcerting gaze. “Do you speak?” Ezma’s only answer was what appeared to be an amused grin crossing the creature’s toothy maw and a quick flash of flame in those deep eyes. The proto-drake turned his head away to nose at the long box inside the package. Taking the hint, Ezma picked up the box and opened it. Inside lay what appeared to be some kind of riding harness. A glint from deeper in the box caught her attention and she lifted the harness out to take a closer look. The nametag was big enough to cover the whole of her palm and was intricately engraved with a name. “Is this what I am to call you?” Ezma raised a brow at the large dragon as it huffed and nodded in seeming agreement.
“So be it, Kronk.”
Carefully she opened the box to see that inside was a letter and another longish box. Curiosity flooding her near-stoic expression, Ezma opened the parchment to find it full of barely legible handwriting. Attempting to translate the cramped script, Ezma read between the lines enough to see that it was a letter from Brann Bronzebeard detailing the scant history they had on the proto-drake. Injured and nursed back the health, the creature was hers now as a reward for her assistance in exploring Ulduar.
Another wash of surprising heat against her cheek had her putting down the letter and standing to take a good look at him. The proto-drake watched her with dark, intelligent eyes but did not move as she ran one hand down his neck, feeling the texture of his rust-colored scales. At first glance, he appeared constructed, the pattern and whorls of his skin and scales giving the illusion of struts, screws and plating. The symbols upon his wings seemed to glow with a fire that appeared to come from within him but his skin, while warmer than anything living Ezma had touched, was not burning hot. It was as if he was a Titan creation made flesh. Perhaps he was.
Not moving her hand from his neck, Ezma turned her head to once more meet that disconcerting gaze. “Do you speak?” Ezma’s only answer was what appeared to be an amused grin crossing the creature’s toothy maw and a quick flash of flame in those deep eyes. The proto-drake turned his head away to nose at the long box inside the package. Taking the hint, Ezma picked up the box and opened it. Inside lay what appeared to be some kind of riding harness. A glint from deeper in the box caught her attention and she lifted the harness out to take a closer look. The nametag was big enough to cover the whole of her palm and was intricately engraved with a name. “Is this what I am to call you?” Ezma raised a brow at the large dragon as it huffed and nodded in seeming agreement.
“So be it, Kronk.”