Armillaria

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wip!!!
a deep, silent cave, so dark that the nothingness seems to wrap around you and hold you tight in its grasp, wrapping its tendrils around your mouth and wings. 
water can be heard dripping in some far-off branch of the cavern system. these caves are huge, full of tiny little tunnels only insects could squeeze into widening into caverns that could encompass entire cities.
you don’t know them. you could be lost if you took even a few steps from where you were standing.
she knows them. 
she knows each twist and turn of the tunnels, could guide you to safety if she wished, could lead you on and on forever in this maze of stone if she did not.
dark red eyes blink in the dark.
you step back, your head whipping around.
your talons crunch on something, the shards of eggshell that you just stepped on digging into your claws.
you cry out in pain.
you can hear little talon steps running away from the noise. 
she is afraid of you, perhaps more than you are of her.
and so she runs.
and you are alone.
what do you do?
you stumble your way through the caves, banging into numerous walls and stones as you go. you don’t know this place well, and will soon be lost in the tunnels. 
but then she stops.
she is curious as much as she is scared, and tired from running at full speed through the caves.
you hear panting, try to approach quietly. it doesn’t matter, she would be able to hear your from multiple tunnels over. 
she comes into view, perched on a slab of rock, watching you warily
she’s a tiny, pathetic thing. she has dull, scuffed orange scales with earthy undertones. dirt has collected in her claws and a tangle of cobwebs adorns her horns, complete with spiders. but the most startling are her wings, shriveled and dark, resting awkwardly against her back. her back left leg also looks slightly twisted, though it looks like she is able to put at least some weight on it, as it is planted gently on the rock. her eyes, dark red, follow your every movement.
what next?
she looks down, her eyes on the cave floor. she says something, but even in the absolute silence of the cave, you can’t hear it. you lean closer as she repeats it. “armillaria”. you vaguely recognize the name from years of school, it’s a class of fungus. she doesn’t seem to care much about her name, she says it with no reverence, as if she was speaking any other word. you get the feeling that she would respond to most anything if you decided to call her something else. you respond with your own name.
she is silent for a long time, contemplating on whether or not to share with you, but she seems to be growing more comfortable with your presence. you have been relatively kind to her so far, and she trusts you. whether you keep that trust is up to you. she begins by explaining that she’s pieced together this story from the recollections of her mother’s siblings and friends, and the rest is her assumptions and experiences. 
she starts the story slowly. her mother was sick when she was with egg, some unknown sickness that gave her chills and stomachaches, worried her about the eggs she was carrying. it eventually drove her from her village to find a doctor. her siblings, not wanting to catch what she had, left her to venture alone.
armillaria’s voice catches.
her mother never made it to a doctor
sick and half-dead, she dragged herself to a vacant cave, where her eggs came early. she died soon after.
most of the eggs were laid cracked, the dragonets inside already dead. except for one, the biggest. still tiny by normal standards, this one was meant to be the bigwings, protector of all the siblings. miraculously, it survived, just barely making it to its hatching day. 
the little mudwing spreads her talons, gesturing to herself, the last remnant of her broken family.
you observe that she speaks oddly, stumbling with her words a bit. she learned them so late, it’s only natural that she’s not as comfortable with them, can’t manipulate them the way others can. she constantly mispronounces things or says the wrong word entirely. 
despite this, she doesn’t seem to have any embarrassment whatsoever at her strange way of speaking. even as you stifle a chuckle at one of the more botched sentences, she seems not to notice. you assume that she has not yet learned the intricate language of looks and small gestures that accompany speech. 
she also seems to lack passion when she speaks. she talks mostly without emotion, and gives you a curious look when you do. she doesn’t know how to capture others with her words. 
she doesn’t seem to have a certain trait that makes her stand out, like most dragons do. humorous, reserved, outgoing, the list goes on and on, but you can fit her into none of these categories. she is herself, nothing more.
she looks hurt by this, by you having reduced her to a “what”. she backs away towards the wall, covering her twisted, mangled wings, and darts into a nearby tunnel, leaving you to wander the caves on your own.
you turn and sprint in the other direction, hitting your snout against various stones as you run. your only thought is to get away from whatever lies in these caves. you desperately search for a way out.
Category:Characters
Category:Females
Category:MudWings
Category:Content (Madyee)
Category:Work in Progress