Wings Of Fire Oneshots

I Put A Blanket Over My Head For This (💔❤️)

It had been a relatively quiet and lazy afternoon. Darkstalker was content playing with his marbles while Whiteout doodled on some scroll paper. Foeslayer was out doing some errands while Arctic was prepping for dinner. It was peaceful. No homework, no chores to do, just a pleasant day where he was free to do whatever he wanted.

But... that couldn't ever last, of course. A small shift in the air became more apparent. He looked over to see his sister, noticing that the hues and colours she thought in were meshing together in an unappealing gradient. Neon purples with brownish yellows clashed with one another. He saw her expression begin to change into a more worried and stressed one.

Something is wrong.

He inched closer to her and lowered his voice. "Is something wrong?"

Whiteout held her talons to her head. "I- it's just a headache. I don't know where it came from, my brain just... decided to hurt for some reason."

Darkstalker bit his tongue. "Are you sure?"

His sister stared at her paper blankly, the storm of colours in her mind growing murkier. "An earthquake..." she whispered.

"What?" The NightWing tried to peer into the future, an ability he was hatched with. Not too far off, perhaps a couple of minutes from now, he saw his mother coming home. The future is almost always unpredictable and is subject to change, but anywhere he looked, it only showed one result.

An argument between his parents would break out.

Darkstalker cringed, but he shoved down those thoughts and feelings. Both of them knew what was going down, albeit in two different ways. Darkstalker could see clearly, while Whiteout got more vague and artistic visions. Yet, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was powerless to face the storm that was upon the horizon.

But, he still could help Whiteout. He reached out his talons and grabbed her claws. "Come on, we should get out of here..."

His sister looked at him, her silver-white eyes wide with an unreadable expression. Yet, she did not reject his advance. The two of them stood up, Darkstalker leading her out of the living room and towards their room. Arctic thankfully was too concerned with de-feathering the goose they were to eat for dinner, allowing them to easily slink into the bedroom.

They'd be safe in here. The walls weren't thick, but they were better than sitting in the living room. Like a bunker from a hurricane, they'd sit in here; pretending as though everything was fine and with some hope that perhaps it'd be over quickly.

The NightWing closed the door, his breath shaky. "It's going to be okay, Whiteout," he said.

She didn't react, instead motioning towards the shelves. She pointed at the scrolls, vases, and a couple of stuffed animals that rested upon them. "They're going to fall in the earthquake."

Darkstalker looked at his sister with sad eyes. He didn't bother to try and stop her, moving out of the way. Whiteout darted to the items, grabbing at them and placing them safely on the floor.

"This one is so pretty," she said as she grabbed the pearl-white vase, her talons brushing over the beautiful ice-blue patterns. "Mother would be livid if it broke..."

"Mh-hm," the other quietly agreed, taking a small break to breathe and prepare. The two of them were less than one year old, yet they would have to deal with this sort of thing. It wasn't fair. They had to hide in their room to get some semblance of normalicy whenever Arctic and Foeslayer fought.

He knew this wasn't right. The stories he read from the scrolls told of loving families where the parents cared for their dragonet. The parents loved each other. Darkstalker, in all of his time alive, has never once picked up something more than mere tolerance. He could read their minds, see through their thoughts that once upon a time, they were happy and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with each other.