-Bloo-,
Xenomorph,
12 years ago
Residing curiously within a realm of shadow laid a giant serpent, slumbering calmly. It was the master of this strange domain. Within the crevices of a forgotten winter desert were its brethren, all lying idle in wait; this was a time of "peace."
Cold breaths puffed into the air from the slits in the matriarch's throat - that's me. It had been a long while since the end of my last reproductive cycle. No hosts have been seen for centuries. I only sit here, lazy as could be, reminiscing about the golden ages and awaiting for my next chance for glory. My Praetorian Guards did the same.
Some of the brood unfortunate enough to be awake were playing. A hack and slash, a tail whip to the cheek - sometimes the youngest ones died. For human audiences, I equate this to your lion cubs pawing each other in the throats, proving who's alpha by furiously murdering each other in a contest of strength and wit. They do that, don't they?
My own outer shell rustled with my attempts to shake the dust off. The depths of my throat began salivating, oozing the eagerness to expel boredom, just as the protective crown groping my forehead released my widening jaws. You could hear my tendons and bones crackling, my skin tightening up from all the stretching, echoing throughout the grisly cave walls like the sound of a rubber balloon against dry human skin or latex slowly ripping.
I sometimes played with my young ones. These moments of sparring were unrestrained - if they could not handle me, they could not handle our hosts.
One of them came up to me now.