Astre | Moon Dragon | Bonded to Camila | M: Camila, Manon, Cathix
It was daytime.
Astre was upset, and getting more impatient by the minute.
Camila was still asleep - they were never, never going to get out the door and into the skies and train to make sure they didn't die. Not if she was asleep. The blazing sun already set him on edge, even through the windows - if there was anything Astre didn't appreciate in the least, it was discomfort. It made his very bones panicky, and his whole self on edge. And, certainly, there was nothing comfortable about blistering rays skimming the dark scales of his back and wings, that he could already feel, even if he was inside. He wanted to run, to flee, to do something to free himself of the mounting anxiety, but training took a priority - it had to. Because avoiding that was a much, much worse option. There was about a million different ways Camila and he could meet their demise - oh, by the stars above, what if they humiliating themselves in the process?
No.
No, no, no, that thought was too horrifying to bear.
Astre was just about at the point of tearing his own scales out as he halted his pacing but Camila's door, in hope she would awaken, and swiftly hurried from the castle. Fine. Fine. Running on spite for his rider (uncalled for, really), and a slight sort of terror of being underprepared, the small dragon hurried out the door.
Well, the sun was just about as horrible as he predicted, and worse. He couldn't do this, which was an apalling thought, because there wasn't any other option. Misery, that's what this was.
Astre had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and his negativity didn't seem to be on its way out anytime soon.
He spotted Ikona's rider - whatsherface - Manon? Right, that was it. Likely the best competition out there, if it wasn't already obvious by her alarmingly skilled blows. She weilded a sword as though she had done it her whole life - had she? Camila hadn't, he didn't... think? That put both of them at a disadvantage.
Oh, kill me now, you stupid annoyingly sunny sun rays.
He ought to get something out of this, rather than panicing.
Forcing an easy expression of mildness onto his features, he called out: "Ikona! Cathix!" Who else existed? Oh, right. "Eosear. Wanna spar a little? C'mon, ya' aren't lazy, are you?" He crowed, trying to goade the others into a match. If they ever said no, he always that the option of calling them lazy - this couldn't go wrong, right? Right.
Yes.
Also. In case he hadn't brought it to attention enough: the sun should go explode into a not-sun and stop making be so miserable.