21.Oct.18, 01:45 AM
Misha had been rather enjoying the Hatching, watching friends and acquaintances Impress and seeing cute baby dragons do cute shit like trip over their own feet, but he was changing his mind. This wasn’t enjoyable in the slightest. In fact, it was almost certainly the worst time he’d had in a long, long while.
For one thing, there had been the sheer terror when the gold dragonet started her rampage. He had friends Standing for gold. Mylorah was Standing for gold. All the girls were in danger, and Misharan was too far away to do anything about it. So of course, it had to get even worse, and the gold got past the girls (which was actually good, because it meant they had time to get away and be safe, Mylo and the others would be safe), but it meant the male Candidates were in danger. Which included him, since Misha was indeed a guy (he’d checked). But now there were even more people for her to hurt. Friends were getting hurt, getting killed. Misharan moved towards the side of the Sands with the flow of the other Candidates, all of them wanting to get away, away from the gold, away from the carnage she left behind.
Turns out Misha was bad at finding safety, because the gold came for his group of Candidates next. Everything happened so fast he wasn’t sure he could describe what had happened after the fact, but he knew there was jostling, frightened cries from those around him, and Misharan remembered moving in front of a twelve turn old boy to keep him safer, keep him from seeing. And he remembered being pushed back, claws slashing across his shoulder and chest, and it hurt and then he was stumbling, trying not to fall on the boy hiding behind him.
He didn’t know exactly the order of things after that. The gold went between, though at the time Misharan only really processed that it was safe again, not how. Someone came over and said words at him. Misha was pretty sure they were a Healer, but he couldn’t swear by it. He didn’t really care, as long as he didn’t have to think right then. It hurt too much to think. He didn’t know who else was hurt. Who was dead. Misharan blearily looked around, as the man, who did seem to really be a Healer, started treating Misha’s injury. There were a few of his friends nearby, also getting fussed over by Healers, or looking like they’d already gotten bandaged up. But there were also friends who looked like they were beyond healing. There was a boy he’d kissed just two days ago he’d never be kissing again. There were people he didn’t really know he’d never get to be friends with. And it hurt. Misha couldn’t tell what hurt more, getting clawed or how he felt looking around at the devastation— wait, yes he could. His heart hurt a lot more than his shoulder did.
For one thing, there had been the sheer terror when the gold dragonet started her rampage. He had friends Standing for gold. Mylorah was Standing for gold. All the girls were in danger, and Misharan was too far away to do anything about it. So of course, it had to get even worse, and the gold got past the girls (which was actually good, because it meant they had time to get away and be safe, Mylo and the others would be safe), but it meant the male Candidates were in danger. Which included him, since Misha was indeed a guy (he’d checked). But now there were even more people for her to hurt. Friends were getting hurt, getting killed. Misharan moved towards the side of the Sands with the flow of the other Candidates, all of them wanting to get away, away from the gold, away from the carnage she left behind.
Turns out Misha was bad at finding safety, because the gold came for his group of Candidates next. Everything happened so fast he wasn’t sure he could describe what had happened after the fact, but he knew there was jostling, frightened cries from those around him, and Misharan remembered moving in front of a twelve turn old boy to keep him safer, keep him from seeing. And he remembered being pushed back, claws slashing across his shoulder and chest, and it hurt and then he was stumbling, trying not to fall on the boy hiding behind him.
He didn’t know exactly the order of things after that. The gold went between, though at the time Misharan only really processed that it was safe again, not how. Someone came over and said words at him. Misha was pretty sure they were a Healer, but he couldn’t swear by it. He didn’t really care, as long as he didn’t have to think right then. It hurt too much to think. He didn’t know who else was hurt. Who was dead. Misharan blearily looked around, as the man, who did seem to really be a Healer, started treating Misha’s injury. There were a few of his friends nearby, also getting fussed over by Healers, or looking like they’d already gotten bandaged up. But there were also friends who looked like they were beyond healing. There was a boy he’d kissed just two days ago he’d never be kissing again. There were people he didn’t really know he’d never get to be friends with. And it hurt. Misha couldn’t tell what hurt more, getting clawed or how he felt looking around at the devastation— wait, yes he could. His heart hurt a lot more than his shoulder did.