since descending from his mountain to the world of men, getting caught up in the strange mystery that was taking place in pei city, and then ending up safely sequestered away from the rain that fell upwards into the open sky in a “suitcase,” of all things, getian has tried to train himself not to look. for a miemeng bird such as himself, it is instinct. the way that his people cataloged their history was to inter their bones in a temple on the mountain, where any of their kind could read that individual’s experiences—their triumphs, joys, struggles, failures, and sorrows—to better learn of the world outside. to read the bones of other creatures was not so extensive nor so detailed, but the structure of one’s skeleton tended to contain indicators of their personalities and the lives they have lived.
he has also had humans come to him in disguise, spinning illusions over their appearances to make them seem as someone he knew. a trick that might fool some, but a miemeng bird can always tell—when the bones do not match the face, the body, the way it moves… there is a wrongness.
to be polite, he tries not to look. but sometimes he finds himself doing so regardless, not yet having learned to fully trust.
getian has seen and heard dragons depicted in human art, poetry, and literature, so he recognizes what approaches him immediately, pale and dark eyes going wide as he maintains his perch. what interests him more than the mythical form, though, are the bones. yes, bones can change—changing one’s fate usually requires it—but they change over a long period of time, often through extended periods of trials and strife. but the strange creature’s bones now seem to radiate with change itself, present, active, alive; nothing like the falsehood he’s seen before. it’s fascinating. even the men turned into striped horses in pei city hadn’t appeared the same.
the miemeng bird spreads his wings and takes to the air, approaching dan heng before wheeling around him in a large, lazy loop, its orbit changing based on whim. he gives the creature enough of a berth that he hopes it does not seem aggressive. he’s merely curious, observing him from all angles.
ah, but he has asked a question, hasn’t he? surprising, that he asks the same as those children that he had scattered earlier. )
Why should I? ( a bird is meant to be free, and even in these false skies, he’s found the only shred of freedom he could since arriving in this strange, confounding place. he comes to hover, wings beating rhythmically, a distance away from the dragon’s face. ) Why do you?
lmk if you're not ok with some bone-reading, i will change it!
since descending from his mountain to the world of men, getting caught up in the strange mystery that was taking place in pei city, and then ending up safely sequestered away from the rain that fell upwards into the open sky in a “suitcase,” of all things, getian has tried to train himself not to look. for a miemeng bird such as himself, it is instinct. the way that his people cataloged their history was to inter their bones in a temple on the mountain, where any of their kind could read that individual’s experiences—their triumphs, joys, struggles, failures, and sorrows—to better learn of the world outside. to read the bones of other creatures was not so extensive nor so detailed, but the structure of one’s skeleton tended to contain indicators of their personalities and the lives they have lived.
he has also had humans come to him in disguise, spinning illusions over their appearances to make them seem as someone he knew. a trick that might fool some, but a miemeng bird can always tell—when the bones do not match the face, the body, the way it moves… there is a wrongness.
to be polite, he tries not to look. but sometimes he finds himself doing so regardless, not yet having learned to fully trust.
getian has seen and heard dragons depicted in human art, poetry, and literature, so he recognizes what approaches him immediately, pale and dark eyes going wide as he maintains his perch. what interests him more than the mythical form, though, are the bones. yes, bones can change—changing one’s fate usually requires it—but they change over a long period of time, often through extended periods of trials and strife. but the strange creature’s bones now seem to radiate with change itself, present, active, alive; nothing like the falsehood he’s seen before. it’s fascinating. even the men turned into striped horses in pei city hadn’t appeared the same.
the miemeng bird spreads his wings and takes to the air, approaching dan heng before wheeling around him in a large, lazy loop, its orbit changing based on whim. he gives the creature enough of a berth that he hopes it does not seem aggressive. he’s merely curious, observing him from all angles.
ah, but he has asked a question, hasn’t he? surprising, that he asks the same as those children that he had scattered earlier. )
Why should I? ( a bird is meant to be free, and even in these false skies, he’s found the only shred of freedom he could since arriving in this strange, confounding place. he comes to hover, wings beating rhythmically, a distance away from the dragon’s face. ) Why do you?