#dragon: BCKBRNR

[the-chattering-tower]

"It shouldn't be this easy," Timián muses to himself, trudging along the hunting path in the woods, "for someone like this to hunt." "Someone" being Aelroth, his gigantic, silkshine body slinking between the trees without as much as making a sound. BCKBRNR* sits perched on his shoulders, dwarfed by Aelroth's everything, the spines on its back twitching as it searches for the heartbeat of prey. The pair's vibrant purples and oranges fade easily into the deep greens of the forest, too easily, leaving the mind searching fruitlessly for the movement it knows should be there. Only BCKBRNR stands out every once and again before fading back into the background, knowing well enough to keep hidden in the shelter of Aelroth's folded wings. It's not right. The first time Timián saw Aelroth hunt he had all his questions answered about just how in Arcanist's name someone so large and brightly-coloured and obnoxious can bring home bounties of meat. But that doesn't mean his mind has accepted seeing it happen just yet. Maybe he's a bit grumpy today, too. The dense forest means none of his birds of prey can help him with much of anything on this trip. Timián himself is an adept hunter, swift on the pounce and good with his claws and meticulous about field dressing. But he doesn't feel complete without his birds to send on smaller prey. All at once, Aelroth freezes, Timián feels it more than sees. The three of them search for what had set off...Aelroth? BCKBRNR? There. The bright head of a clown charger before it slides behind a bush again to graze. The pale fins on its back laid flat. Not alarmed. Faint shuffling from that way, suggesting a small herd. Aelroth flicks only his ear in command, and Timián is already stalking through the underbrush to circle around. First, surround the herd, get on the opposite side of them from Aelroth and BCKBRNR. Then, drive. Chase them with primal joy towards the beast they cannot imagine waiting for them, a maw almost larger than they are, a body too much to dodge around, the swift needle teeth of the moth-thing that'll descent on whichever charger makes a break for it anyway, fast to find the throat.

-

Field dressing is not pretty business. Timián had shaved up the fur on his arms for it, leaving the rest of him comfortably shaggy, and over time has paid for the loss of padding with a few new scars. His priorities remain the same no less: clean meat for the clan, and an offering for the scavengers.

A definite bonus of hunting with the confusing duo of Aelroth and BCKBRNR is this: Aelroth carries their bounty for being so dang large, and BCKBRNR doesn't complain.

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*Pronounced "Backburner"

[the-chattering-tower]

My condolences <3

Here are my three fluffy moth babies

Comet, who was just a wee youngling when Aethers were sent to space, and came back down as one of the oldest still alive. Now they're on a pilgrimage looking for an old friend (who will be of whatever the next ancient breed is bc i'm planning long here I guess and I want Comet to experience modern dragons never even having heard of the breed their friend is)

Pretty much the moment the Aethers touched onto solid land, BCKBRNR (Backburner) has made it her life's new mission to consume every book on geophysics that she can find. Local geologists Kemne and Avellir are varying degrees delighted and horrified

And SparkleMuffin, who pretty fast became a new hatchery attendant. They don't speak (seem to have no inclination to overall) but they're a natural with the little ones

Dragon Therapy wanted

I had to bury my best friend today and I could use some dragon therapy

Please show me your Aethers, existing or future projects, bonus if they are soft and gentle <3

[the-chattering-tower]

Finally named the paperbastards

(BCKBRNR is pronounced Backburner)