The musty smell of old books is permeated by the sharp, metallic scent of blood. Folke shifts his weight, darting between the aisles of the massive library, dust and cobwebs clinging to his twitching feathers. A pearlescent residue clings to one of the shelves, and he reaches out a curious talon to poke at it; it's hard as diamonds, though the way it's molded seems to imply it was a liquid at one point before drying.
He digs a quill and paper out of his pack, and begins jotting down notes on the substance, curiosity making his feathers twitch. It's only sheer luck that he hears the heavy drag of claws across floorboards, and the soft, wheezing breath of something large moving. He darts upwards, scaling one of the bookshelves and perching in darkness atop it, heart pounding as he surveys the endless, abandoned building.
There.
Ruby eyes the shade of blood that match a singular red-stained horn, a subtle faded pattern that shifts like the scales of a koi as the beast moves. A faded blue mane, ragged and unkempt, hangs in oily strands over the beast's face. It uses a single hind leg to drag a beautiful, pearl-like gem with every step it takes to patrol its nesting site. The dragon opens its mouth, showcasing a revolting yet beautiful set of razor-sharp teeth; it tastes the air, letting out a low, irritated croon.
He ought to leave now; but instead of bolting immediately, he settles a bit, and begins sketching the beast on a piece of scrap paper. What a magnificent, horrifying predator, almost medieval in its appearance...
Lorelei, by Folke
