When Aivrid took the time and effort to disguise himself, it was usually not for pleasure. No, being in the body of a small humanoid was more often uncomfortable for him. He felt confined in such a vessel. Without the comfortable weight of his scales, the slight shake of the earth when he stepped, how was he supposed to feel happy in such a form? And yet that dragon matriarch, Kerathari, had been correct -- there was one thing that surprised him about the little ones, something so essential to life that he had not even considered it.
Food.
As a dragon, a beast, a hunter, Aivrid had never eaten the little ones' food. Perhaps he'd scooped some up when he swallowed a little fishing boat whole, or when he'd eaten a farmer's storehouse, but his taste buds weren't quite the same. Aivrid ate to survive. The little ones, they ate to survive as well, but they also ate to enjoy. It was so much different from how he'd been raised. A good different, for once.
Thus, when he arrived back in Kherkhana he'd had the chefs whip up an enormous feast, one fit for a dragon. Still, Aivrid had no plans to eat as a dragon; he arrived at the shaded palace terrace that had been prepared for his meal as a little human. And so his midday meal began, and for once he was truly enjoying his food.
"Delicious," the man groaned, savouring his bite of fruit. Heavenly, if he'd ever tasted it. "How come you are not always eating? So many starving out there. Of course, with my stomach, I can spend weeks without eating, but you need to eat every day. How come you do not eat more?" He questioned the others who'd joined him for his feast. "If I were like this all the time, I'd almost always be eating."
Food.
As a dragon, a beast, a hunter, Aivrid had never eaten the little ones' food. Perhaps he'd scooped some up when he swallowed a little fishing boat whole, or when he'd eaten a farmer's storehouse, but his taste buds weren't quite the same. Aivrid ate to survive. The little ones, they ate to survive as well, but they also ate to enjoy. It was so much different from how he'd been raised. A good different, for once.
Thus, when he arrived back in Kherkhana he'd had the chefs whip up an enormous feast, one fit for a dragon. Still, Aivrid had no plans to eat as a dragon; he arrived at the shaded palace terrace that had been prepared for his meal as a little human. And so his midday meal began, and for once he was truly enjoying his food.
"Delicious," the man groaned, savouring his bite of fruit. Heavenly, if he'd ever tasted it. "How come you are not always eating? So many starving out there. Of course, with my stomach, I can spend weeks without eating, but you need to eat every day. How come you do not eat more?" He questioned the others who'd joined him for his feast. "If I were like this all the time, I'd almost always be eating."