Tilt of Hope (A Wings of Fire ship short story between OCs) (Gore)

~Chapter 3; The Route of Secrets; Atlanta🎹~

A/N THIS CRAPPY WEBSITE AKA WATTPAD WON'T LET ME POST ATLANTA'S COLOR PALETT ALL BECAUSE IT WAS A PIXAL. So, Wattpad, ruining something once AGAIN, I have to show you someone's else's art. Credits to artists and WATTPAD IS VERY FRUSTRATING MY LORD. I was actually VERY EXITED TO SHOW Y'ALL BUT NOOOOOOOO. Anyways, I luckily squeezed in a chapter this weekend. Also, a canon character will be mentioned in this chapter! Can you guess who? Enjoy! AND COMMENT.

Atlanta limply crumpled to the dusty ground of the death pit (fart pit, Atlanta would say) and listened to the honking, screeching crowd that chucked stuff at Atlanta's new acquaintance: Komodo. 

A deep but young, booming voice interrupted them; "Our winner, Komodo, OF THE SKYWINGS!" More cheering. Atlanta grumbled under her breath. "Get ON with it" she thought. 

Something about pardoning Komodo, and then some random screaming SkyWing. "THAT DRAGON IS MY SON" then a bunch of roaring and yelling, a clatter of spears, Komodo gasping and grunting around, and Atlanta longed to open her eyes. A scream and outraged growling, squawking, scuffling, whooshing, clashing- then Scarlet scowling and grouching and ordering about. It sounded like chaos. "The element of life" Atlanta thought humorously. 

After the fights, gruff, unfriendly claws lifted her of the dank-scented ground, and the light darkened outside her eyelids. "Must be night?" Altana mentally guessed.

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Atlanta was roughly dropped in a rotten-smelling place with hard, bumpy, ground, slathered with sticky dirt and blood and ashes. Atlanta attempted to squash her fizzy nerves trembling in her stomach, and the gag clawing its way up her throat. 

The SkyWings thumped away, murmuring to come back in 15 minutes and do there work. "How could you pay dragons that just scorch dead dragons?" Atlanta thought, blindly wrinkling her snout. 

But then... underlying the dense, rotten smell of slaughtered animals and burning dragons... something familiar. Like orange cookies and cotton. "OH NO... not now not now not- a hatchling-hood memory flashed through Atlanta's head. 

Slender keys of the keyboard plinked under Atlanta's claws, a musical, magical sound piercing but soothing her ears, distracting her, getting Atlanta lost, as she patiently waited for her caretaker to pick her up from school. 

Drawings loosely hung on the walls of her dorm, graceful doodles of mansions and famous hero's and villains and fantasy animals that no one ever had thought of and different varieties of banners. Essays of The Lost Continent and different tribe traditions on the Deep Palace and Summer Palace (she is in the Summer Palace right now) were neatly folding in a dimly lit corner of her elegant waiting-room, and the amazing, hulking, piano, the same shade as her horns, was planted near a vine-decorated square-shaped window.  A scroll shelve, packed with high-reader scrolls, were placed at the edge of the exit/ entrance. 

A skinny hall monitor bonked on her wall. "Atlanta" She spat, twisting her old snout into a sneer. "What are you and your grubby talons still doing her?!"

Atlanta really wanted to lash out but all she could do was respectfully duck her head, and quietly and politely answer.  "Waiting for my p- um... caretakers" She replied sadly. The teacher rolled her eyes and snapped her teeth at Atlanta.

"You still waiting for them' lazy bums to haul you home again?!" 

Atlanta frowned. "Don't... don't make fun of my guardians, please" Atlanta answered quietly. "OH, YA WANNA TALK BACK, DO YA?!"