Emberwood daughter of stone

“Not yet,” Drogon admitted when Lavender’s father questioned if they found any more rocks. Drogon had never seen a rock like the quartz before so it was very likely he’d just end up finding her the dullest rock he could find because, well, he wasn’t even sure where one went to look for such a rock ( and as he’s never been in a cave before he has no idea that they are a treasure cove of pretty geodes that might catch Lavender’s magpie eye for shiny and pretty rocks ). Drogon, having never been in a situation like this before: facing the father of a girl wasn’t sure how this is supposed to go and this wasn’t even a romantic venture! — on such a matter Lavender was far too young for Drogon, a toddler to his adolescent/nearly pre-teen and firstly Drogon would have to have interest like that to begin with. He’s still too young. He had a fleeting crush on Nyx but that had vanished as quickly as everything else in his life.

Drogon’s weight shifted as Lavender’s father asked if he was keeping himself fed. The question was casual, as if it were just another facet of conversation and the tundra’s glacial gaze took in the older man, hesitant. The question itself was easy enough to answer but frankly, Drogon was tired of the same questions “where are your parents”, “are you lost”, ecetera. It’s only natural that Drogon is suspicious that those questions will follow close behind the seemingly innocent question regarding his state of hunger. The soturi is old enough to understand why adults keep asking those questions: he’s a homeless kid, nearly feral. He’s emotionally damaged and his mental scars have permanently changed him. Roarke was dead. As in with everything, the gun for personality, for his mind had been survival of the fittest and Drogon had won. Yet, the Wilds in all their danger has made him crafty, sharpened his wit and intelligence, made him strong. Drogon Ansbjørn is a survivor at all and every cost.

“Yeah, I do alright.” He finally answers after a few moments of stretching contemplation. He’s not as filled out as he’s meant to be, but his ribcage isn’t protruding through his skin and he’s not malnourished. He doesn’t eat like a king but he doesn’t starve, either. “I don’t always travel alone so eating is good when I have a companion to hunt with.” Because the last thing he wants is anyone to fuss over him.