Sleeping Dragon history is a vat of honey

the sleeping dragon has become a haunt of ezra's as of late, where he goes in an effort to escape those ever pressing demons; unseen hellhounds always nipping on his heels. if Yahweh's grace was a kiss placed upon his brow, it was the only thing keeping from the princes of hell from consuming him. of sinking their teeth into his flesh.

or perhaps it was simply the distraction that stalking the mountain goats offered. he spent hours still and observant as he watched their movements: watching how they moved on what appeared to him to be sheer cliff, where they grazed and where they went to sleep.

he was not confident enough to think he could try to take one, despite how he strategically considers how each piece of it might be useful.

he spends his morning now, watching. waiting. wondering if mountain goats were blessed with ethereal grace or if they could fall victim to missteps — whilst secretly hoping the latter would happen.