Thread:FunAndGamess/@comment-38834833-20190910003809/@comment-38158014-20190922001922

There is no such thing as a completely silent city.

During the day, Serpent was constantly surrounded by Scorpion Den merchants hawking their goods loudly to dragons of every tribe, trying to advertise everything from potions to tapestries to pickles. Or the SandWings' newest idea of a sporting event, which usually led to yells and screams and mad stampedes through the streets. Sometimes even a fight broken out on the streets, starting with shoves and ending with blood - most of which were, above all, noisy.

But tonight, it was eerily silent - no dragons racing between buildings, no wind howling through the colorful tents. It was so quiet Serpent could hear each and every pebble crunch beneath his talons as he strode through the Scorpion Den.

He had never been a fan of crowds, always preferring to stay home alone curled up with a book. Serpent was not your typical Hydra - the familial clan he hailed from was generally quite adventurous and bold, but with his scrawny build and serious-looking spectacles, he looked anything but.

The stars above him glittered frostily against a blanket of black as he wound his way through the labyrinthine streets. On his wrist, three bold black lines stretched vertically across his sandy scales: the mark of the Hydras. Usually the striking tattoo would bring a frown to his face - after all, he was a "disgrace" to his bloodline - but tonight, it prompted a smile instead. It reminded him of his newly-wed wife, waiting for him at their home. And the five shining golden eggs lined up neatly in their nest together, almost ready to hatch.

Serpent quickened his pace.