White one transformation 04
The morning sun rose over the horizon, sharp and clear and crisp against the sky, full of clouds that promised an incoming storm. Sunlight, colder than usual, crept along the rocky faces of the ledges, illuminating every little crevice and jagged stone edge, until.. It disappeared. Swallowed by a void of darkness, a crude hole dug by claws into the cliff face. A few strands of lichen hung over the entrance, giving the impression that the cave- for that was what it had to be- was unused; had been unused for years. Yet, as the sunlight continued its inching journey past the forbidding darkness.. Something moved. Something living was in there. Something forgotten, abandoned. Her claws announced her presence first, the sound of rough scraping emanating from the hole. The noise only added to the eerie atmosphere of "I'm here. Keep out, and you'll regret it if you don't."
Heavy breathing echoed, as if the thing inside had been suddenly awoken from a deep slumber. And then, suddenly, so suddenly, a clawed talon stretched out tentatively, groping at the air before landing firmly on the ground outside. The rest of her quickly emerged, slithering and sliding and stalking all at once, a mass of regal scales. She- for it was clearly a she- was a vast creature. Despite her vague resemblance to a dragon, that could not be what she was. Most of her body was a clear, snowy white, except for her tail, parts of her wings, and her legs, which were all a royal blue color. Her snout ended with a sharp beak, not unlike that of a falcon or eagle. Her nostrils flared delicately as she scented the air. She was taking her time, unwary, unguarding. What was there to be truly wary about? Who would dare come up to this isolated spot, high on the mountains?
She was not young, yet not old either. She was unaging, eternal. Simply there. Eking out a life. It was a harsh life. It had taken its toll on the animal. A network of cicatrix arched over her back and across her shoulders, dark scars from battles past. The dark lines, some fresher than others, crawled up her long neck, curled in a tight arch as she preened under one of her wings. A pair of horns sprouted from between her long, velvety ears, spiraling and twisting and dancing into the air like a pair of flames. They resembled the horns of a gazelle, except they were worn, brittled and chipped, as if they had been used too many times over the years. Her ears themselves were odd. They were long, and covered in soft white fur, and the right one was nicked.
Her eyes were narrow and black as night, squinting slightly as she stared into the cheerless sky. The sun had almost fully risen, casting a light over her. Her wings flexed, once, twice. They were, perhaps, her most distinctive trait. If she were a true dragon leathery wings would have been folded across her back, but in their place was a set of feathered pinions. At the roots they were the same blue hue as her legs and tail, slowly fading into white at the outer edges. The longest flight feathers were still functional, but frayed and split at the ends. The pair of wings were folded neatly across her back as she stood proud and tall, gazing over her wild home. Her kingdom.
Her back sloped down gently, and instead of tapering to a point, it almost seemed like her tail ended in another wing. A broad mass of fluffy feathers swept majestically over the rocks as she stood. Waiting. Waiting for eternity. She lived a life. It was a harsh life. But despite the hardships... It was a good one. She was resilient. She was powerful. She was unaging, yet always changing.
It was almost like she was life itself.