A sigh, โSo it is a name. When I tried naming a tigrex once, it didnโt like that at all. No, it probably didnโt like me. Or just humans, who can blame them?โ
He would go on and on, letting the tension he felt a moment ago out in the form of quickly spoken words.
Sylvas feared this wyvern no more than he feared an aptonoth, especially in the current state. But when he scrambled up so, as if the hunter switched a lever, his heart dropped.
He pushed himself back instinctively, hand on his chest before he realized nothing bad was happening.
Enoch rumbles, with very little intent to move from the spot now that he had his branch. He rolls back and forth in the dirt a few times, before his name is spoken.
He scrambles, flipping to sit up, head perked all the way up, looking and sniffing at the air, attentive.
I find something strangely profound about how polar bears always have this look of boyish innocence to them no matter what the context is. Even covered in the blood of his prey, the bear looks like a silly little guy. Much to learn.
name on the leather. He didnโt have to take his notes out, he had memorized it.
Sat on his knees where he had stood a moment before, and cleared his throat, โEnoch?โ
How strangeโฆ Could a flower with such effect on a monster really go unheard of? He must try to grab it if the tigrex got bored of it. His handler and Erik would lose their minds, in a different sense, if he told them about it.
Speaking of excitable researchers, he recalled the
As destructive as the beast can be, he's delicate with the flower, not damaging it when he rubs his snout over it. Soft pollen dusts around the flower, making a little yellow splotch on his nose.
Enoch lets out a pleased rumble and flops over, rolling onto his back.
He held the bow tighter before the tigrex heard the branch fall, coming down from the spike of adrenaline with a sigh. He flicked his bow closed and sheathed it again, watching as he stepped out of his hiding spot.
What was so special about this flower? Taking a few steps close
The thunk of the arrow makes the wyvern recoil, snarling and whipping it's head around. Eyes slitted sharp as it searched for the source. He locks in as the slinger fires, whipping around and crouching to ready a charge.