What a pleasant perch he had found himself.
On a warm summer night, the Modidaeva lay peacefully on a small, high platform jutting out from an even higher cliff, gazing out into the distance. He idly observed the tranquil landscape stretching out before him: trees swayed in the gentle breeze; stars glimmered above, decorating a clear, midnight sky; and a perfect moon cast its cold, pale light down upon the earth, illuminating just enough for it to be seen. He was particularly discernible in this lighting, his pristine, white fur shining brilliantly in the moonlight. However, his even whiter eyes were his most striking feature. They reflected the moonlight, appearing like glowing crystals in the dark. He almost hated how visible he was at night, unlike many other creatures. Most Modidaevas were betrayed by the flames dancing around their paws, as they gave off bright light. He was one of the few to be graced with flames blacker than the night itself, instead betrayed by his snowy fur and his piercing, crystal eyes. A smirk tugged at the ends of his lips, tail lashing as flames spurred to life.
There was always some sort of trade-off.
'No matter,' he mused, flames calming in response to his dismissed line of thought, and he lowered his head before rolling on to his side. His days had been fairly monotonous as of late. His nomadic lifestyle did not allow him much time in any single place. He did not mind solitude — it was just boring. In his youth, he was mischievous of sorts. He never went out looking for trouble; he started trouble. He smiled inwardly, reminiscing. He was a malevolent youth, to say the least, typical of his kind, especially in their younger years. Adolescent Modidaevas were a forced to be reckoned with, and many never saw maturity — he could name several right of the top of his head. He remembered the days when he detested everything that was not a Modidaeva or Modeity. He even cast condescending, arrogant glares upon the Elders roaming the lands. Many did not take kindly to his behavior, and he was repeatedly chastised, yet never deterred, only reaching a state of maturity on his own terms… He was clearly older than he cared to admit.
He let out a huge yawn, flexing his ebony claws. He had slept the day away; it was too hot in the daytime, even for him. Now it was time to come to life, find some food, maybe some sort of company, amiable or not. Although he had matured to an extent, he still carried many attributes from his youth. Now, he was neither outright belligerent nor antisocial, but he remained a nefarious character, and crafty. These attributes had remained a part of him throughout his years, and combined with his aged wisdom, made him all the more dangerous. His lips curled back over his sharp, pearly teeth, and he let out a chuckle, black flames leaping around him as he stood. He was still plenty young, and plenty willful. He unfurled his wings, stretching them before lunging off the cliff. With a few heavy beats, he began ascending, flying to the top of the cliff. Before landing, however, he rose several feet above it, and turned back to the forest, eyes searching for any kind of life. He imagined the world could see him and his shiny, white form hovering in the air. He frowned, his mild dismay from his earlier musings manifesting itself once more. It was times like these that made him curse his fur. Most kept their distance when they saw him — he was a malevolent predator of a daunting size, after all. It was difficult to hunt when one’s prey could see its certain doom from a distance.
What fun was there in an undisturbed night?
On a warm summer night, the Modidaeva lay peacefully on a small, high platform jutting out from an even higher cliff, gazing out into the distance. He idly observed the tranquil landscape stretching out before him: trees swayed in the gentle breeze; stars glimmered above, decorating a clear, midnight sky; and a perfect moon cast its cold, pale light down upon the earth, illuminating just enough for it to be seen. He was particularly discernible in this lighting, his pristine, white fur shining brilliantly in the moonlight. However, his even whiter eyes were his most striking feature. They reflected the moonlight, appearing like glowing crystals in the dark. He almost hated how visible he was at night, unlike many other creatures. Most Modidaevas were betrayed by the flames dancing around their paws, as they gave off bright light. He was one of the few to be graced with flames blacker than the night itself, instead betrayed by his snowy fur and his piercing, crystal eyes. A smirk tugged at the ends of his lips, tail lashing as flames spurred to life.
There was always some sort of trade-off.
'No matter,' he mused, flames calming in response to his dismissed line of thought, and he lowered his head before rolling on to his side. His days had been fairly monotonous as of late. His nomadic lifestyle did not allow him much time in any single place. He did not mind solitude — it was just boring. In his youth, he was mischievous of sorts. He never went out looking for trouble; he started trouble. He smiled inwardly, reminiscing. He was a malevolent youth, to say the least, typical of his kind, especially in their younger years. Adolescent Modidaevas were a forced to be reckoned with, and many never saw maturity — he could name several right of the top of his head. He remembered the days when he detested everything that was not a Modidaeva or Modeity. He even cast condescending, arrogant glares upon the Elders roaming the lands. Many did not take kindly to his behavior, and he was repeatedly chastised, yet never deterred, only reaching a state of maturity on his own terms… He was clearly older than he cared to admit.
He let out a huge yawn, flexing his ebony claws. He had slept the day away; it was too hot in the daytime, even for him. Now it was time to come to life, find some food, maybe some sort of company, amiable or not. Although he had matured to an extent, he still carried many attributes from his youth. Now, he was neither outright belligerent nor antisocial, but he remained a nefarious character, and crafty. These attributes had remained a part of him throughout his years, and combined with his aged wisdom, made him all the more dangerous. His lips curled back over his sharp, pearly teeth, and he let out a chuckle, black flames leaping around him as he stood. He was still plenty young, and plenty willful. He unfurled his wings, stretching them before lunging off the cliff. With a few heavy beats, he began ascending, flying to the top of the cliff. Before landing, however, he rose several feet above it, and turned back to the forest, eyes searching for any kind of life. He imagined the world could see him and his shiny, white form hovering in the air. He frowned, his mild dismay from his earlier musings manifesting itself once more. It was times like these that made him curse his fur. Most kept their distance when they saw him — he was a malevolent predator of a daunting size, after all. It was difficult to hunt when one’s prey could see its certain doom from a distance.
What fun was there in an undisturbed night?
