2024-07-18 - Disdain

Neath settles into the night gratefully. Its sour mood from being perpetually watched, touched, and aware of the expectations of others has only strengthened throughout the day, but with night there comes peace. It revels in the cooling temperature for the brief few moments it has before the fires are lit, spitefully casts its mind out to check that the Bowl has emptied as it usually does at night. Good. You all need to go away, it seethes, curling in on itself and trying to withdraw even from its siblings for the time being. It's tired and angry and it needs a break.

A break, it soon realises, it won't get. A mind it vaguely recognises from earlier in the day approaches - one it remembers not taking an interest in. It stirs and reaches out to see what she wants and, once again, it hates what it sees. She approaches Yvaith and Neath wants to snarl like it remembers the two dragons doing during their fight. More expectations, these ones heavier than all the rest. What does this wretch know about being gold? About what Mother and Issrodeth and Igith have to do? It's power she wants, but does she deserve it? She's nothing like any of them. Could she have handled the quake? Does she think she could? Stupid. Disdain is a new feeling for Neath and it hates the way it feels, but it can't quite shake it.

Get out, it thinks savagely. Your hands don't deserve to touch our shells.