P a n g a e a
tomorrow we'll rise, so let's fight today
you know i don't give a fuck what you think or say
'cause we're gonna rock up this place anyway.
The obscure mare had heard whispers in this kingdom as she made it past, but they hardly cared, hardly listened. Their issues, they hardly mattered to them. In fact, Pangaea could care less completely. But it didn't stop them from pausing at the gathering. The shawl was gathered around them, hanging down their sides, obscuring their wings, hiding the back limbs of a predator, pulled up over a heavier head to shade that lovely face, and pitch their almost glowing, slitted yellow eyes into animosity, the way they had intended. An obscure being, dressed for the sands of this desert location. Who would notice them, right? A slight smirk, a flash of a fang filled mouth that tapered into the normal molars of a horse deeper into the jaw.
Pangaea wove their way through, the clip-clop of hooves obscuring the softer click, click of talons against the ground as they moved through the crowd without a second glance. Ears pitched this way, and that way as they sought to take in the world around them. Some wore speaking kindly, others with acid and poison, slung from their lips like the venom on a Troodon. Their gaze danced with amusement at the fire, the tension slowly growing through the crowd at the words. Her gaze then turned towards the brute, the stallion that must plan to rule this land. He was a tall fellow, a scarred body that told of history, but neither bothered the saurian-equus under the cloth.
Their own body was marred after all. Healed slashes on their hip from a Spinosaurus who had taken their brother from them. The rip through the scales of their throat - a lasting gift from their father. Other marks from other predators of their home world. Nips from Compys, picked at flesh from a pteranodon who tried to eat them while the slept. A deeply scared bite at her shoulder from where another raptor had tried to rip their flesh away. That fight, Pangaea had won. And even if it weren't for the fact they had faced scarier, far more terrifying beasts in their home realm, this tall beast wasn't even a full hand taller. No, if anything . . . Pangaea found him amusing.
Particularly when he responded to the venom that little morsel, er, mortal had spoke up with. This newly crowned king was no King of Lizards. He didn't shake the ground with each step he made, didn't dominate with that mighty ferocity. But he seemed to have a personality all his own, his tone deadpaning, speaking of having been back for a while, not that Pangaea cared about that. They didn't know the history of this land, they didn't care. In fact, they didn't even want to learn about it. This was just a passing break to the Oasis that might be a bit more like home. A moment to catch a show, if you will.
The king was staring though, that the heaving beast that fired off the words, and they wait to see what this king would do. And then . . . the king smiles, and with it came the flash of golden fangs that turned the predator's attention to them curiously. Did he flay flesh with those, or where they merely a fashion statement. Did he savor the taste of meat, the sweet warmth as you took that power for your own? They didn't know, they couldn't know after all - they knew none in this land, not truly part of this Court, merely a stranger watching with amusement, with delight. How better to learn the world around you than to see the power plays, the actionless attacks.
Then this King speaks, oh what did he introduce himself as? They don't remember, they don't care. He's another of the little herbivores that try to make friendly with them, like they were just like these weak, little plant-munchers. Pangaea's own muzzle splits, fangs sharp, ready, waiting flashing from with in an equine muzzle with a touch of reptilian ferocity. A predator walking in half the skin of a friend. They listen to this king's words. He's amused, they note, hearing it when he speaks of broken crowns, kingdoms turning to ash, fall. Solterra hmm, this land then, perhaps? They keep their cloak drawn close as he continues to speak, silent still, merely watching. Time to bring the proud people back to life? Here for Solterra? Well, they weren't, they just wanted to see what was going, so even when he turns towards the crowd again, watching the others, waiting, Pangaea slunk back into the masses, their height making them feel a little more noticeable, a little more out in the open than they had intended. So they keep that cloak closed, keeps themselves enshrouded, and Pangaea too waits.
For surely there would be more for them to learn here . . . and so far this meeting was certainly more than amusing enough to keep them around. For the time being, before that pebbled hide would itch to move, and they'd continue on through this . . . Solterra.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Leviathan @Faction @Cordelia @Mernatius
Notes: Apparently it's they/them day.
you know i don't give a fuck what you think or say
'cause we're gonna rock this whole place anyway
