— D A M A S C U S —
The first to heed his booming beckoning was perhaps the last he'd expect. The Lady Rannveig ought to be consumed with duties to hear his babbling cry, and in Damascus's mind he was naught but an ant to her; so it was when she swooped by and gave her words of thanks (she even spoke his name) that his heart began to melt, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and an even greater will to please the Queen.
"Him save we must!" the adolescent chortled, one who would finally age into a man in the months to come.
Unfolding his wings and shrouding them around the subject of so much muttering and confusion, Damascus sought to shield him further from the elements as they awaited the arrival of a healer. Another arrived soon after, his coat the colour of a flame. This boy spoke something to Damascus that he didn't quite understand, though the monolithic colt understood it to be a gesture or greeting and so simply bobbed his head and replied with "yes" as anyone ought to when they didn't understand something.
It was when this same slinky character began to tickle his way over the draining sea victim's body and retrieving the pieces from his mane that Damascus spoke up.
The chomp of hooves upon gravel diverted Damascus's attention to another who approached; one who nearly frightened him right out of his skin with those gnarly tusks. He'd never seen anything like that ever before.
'Where did he come from?' the tusked one had asked, which caused Damascus to actually drop his jaw. Where did he LOOK like he came from?
"The seas" Damascus spoke matter-of-factly "I finded him"
@Rannveig
