| Characters: Theta Sigma, D'atheludram
Link to IJ: thread #75440.4586160 |
 Theta was late; it had been said he was late and well. He was late. He sprawled out in a corner, at a table, legs propped up so he could watch the room curiously. |
 D'athe bounded into the room, quite pleased with the efforts of the shop he'd found that advertised grooming on the window. He peered around, looking for someone new, and scampered over to a table with what appeared to be a very young human. Putting his paws up on the table, he tilted his head curiously, looking at the hatchling.Are you here alone, hatchling? he asked, curious. |
| Theta screamed, fell off his chair, then popped back up, instantly reaching for D'the's whispers. "What are you?" |
| D'athe pulled back, startled, at the scream, his ears flattening against his head a moment. He shook himself, fluffing up his fur a moment before settling all four paws on the floor, nosing at the hatchling's hand. I'm one of the permanents of my world. My name's D'athe, what's yours? And why are you here alone? Hatchlings shouldn't be alone. He paused, considering a moment. Well, most hatchlings shouldn't be alone. |
| "What's a hatchling?" he asked, petting D'athe's nose carefully, "I'm Theta Sigma." |
| A hatchling is the young of a species. D'athe butted his head more firmly into Theta's hand. It's very nice when someone scritches behind my ears, he added hopefully, giving Theta a large-eyed look, his ears pricked forward. |
| Theta grinned, then scratched behind D'athe's ears, "How old are you?" |
| Old as stones. Or eleven years old. D'athe shrugged. Only eleven years looking like this. He chirruped smugly, leaning into Theta's hand. Never look the same twice! He peered at Theta a moment. How old are you? |
| "Eight. What do you mean look the same?" |
| Sometimes I have wings, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'm furry, sometimes I'm scaly, sometimes I'm feathery, and sometimes I just have a hide. I can be any color, and I've been really large, almost as large as an elephant, and sometimes I'm really small, like the cats that hunt rats for humans. He shifted, curling up next to Theta with his head in his lap. Eight's still a hatchling. Though you don't smell entirely human. Sorta weirdy, but not quite. And a little fey, too, but that's not possible. Fey and weirdy and humans don't make hatchlings together. He lifted his head a little, tilting it as he looked at Theta. Which means you're something new. What are you? |
| "I'm not human," he frowned, stroking D'athe's head slowly, "I'm Gallifreyian." |
| What's Gallifreyian? D'athe pricked his ears up again, curiously. I've never heard of Gallifreyians before. |
| "Most people haven't" |
| Why? That was the question D'athe asked the most, and got him in the most trouble, but he was curious. He nudged Theta's hand again, warbling gently to underline his question. |
| He laughed happily, "Um. because we hide." |
| What do you hide from? D'athe warbled again, bright and cheery, in response to Theta's laughter - his own version of laughter. |
| "Because we're...snotty." |
| D'athe snorted, shaking his head. You don't sound snotty, or act snotty. And you're just a hatchling. You can chose to not hide when you grow up, and not be snotty. He wrinkled his nose. Wyrin and Phera are snotty, too. They'd probably get along with Gallifreyians, if they ever met any. |
| "Who?" |
| Wyrin and Phera and Ness are permanents, like me. Well, sorta. Ness likes to splash. A lot. She drenches me. And Phera doesn't like me 'cause she says I'm boring. And Wyrin travels all the time. He doesn't like staying in one place, at all. D'athe sighed, his ears drooping a little. We all go on and on, old as stones and young too, and we last, and nobody else lasts. He gave Theta a mournful little chirp. Do Gallifreyians last? |
| "Everything dies eventually." |
| Not permanents. D'athe flattened his ears against his skull. Not and stay dead. I get to look new everytime I die and come back. It's how people imagine me. What I look like. Which is why I never look the same twice. He butted Theta's hand again. I was in Tibet last time I died. Human flying machines have nasty engines that like to eat tiny little dragons who are too curious for their own good. |
| Theta kept petting absently, "Okay." |