Да вроде и не собирается. А вообще да, не должен. Хотя тут возможны варианты. С поверхности воды вряд ли получится. Но ведь можно разогнаться под водой, за счёт крыльев и обтекаемой формы это может неплохо получиться. После чего выскочить из воды под углом к поверхности. Дальше будет зависеть от размеров, набранной скорости и лётных характеристик.
Асат, при условии что сопротивление воды позволит таки такой туше разогнаться, как скат он крылышками не помашет. Ну и при условии что не утонет, не задохнется, не порвет перепонку... И вообще там шторм на море. В общем приплыл Ты запостил предсмертную агонию. Разве что там берег где рядом.
Позволит, если крыльями махать не как в воздухе, а частично раскрытыми и в другой плоскости. А в момент выхода из воды резко оттолкнуться. Махового усилия хватит, чтобы подкинуть вверх, плюс будет некоторая начальная скорость. Да и на шторм это не тянет. Волны по морским меркам совсем мелкие. На реке больше бывают.
И к картинке имеется история. Из которой не все моменты понятны, но подыхание там явно не планируется: читать дальшеHeavy droplets of rain pound relentlessly against his dark gray wings and scales. The sun had disappeared below the horizon long ago, which left only a tiny fraction of moonlight to filter through the thick night clouds. The water clinging to his blue-striped scales glimmers slightly with a faint sheen as his wings beat through the air. The light is also just enough for him to see a small ways into the distance, though being at least three days flight from land in any direction, it was unlikely there would be anything for him to be careful of and avoid.
His wings were beginning to tire again, he knew it was time to rest on the surface for a while. Some distance below, the water appears to be reasonably calm enough, though there was always the risk that a rouge wave could easily take hold of an unsuspecting dragons wing, splayed across the oceans surface and damage the muscle or bone. It was difficult to see waves coming on a deep cloudy night, for one could not use the stars on the horizon as a visual warning of approaching waves. He knew this was a dangerous time to rest, but it was either land willingly now, or tire himself out completely and risk drowning later, should the night develop into a full storm and leave him unable to escape into the air.
He tips his wings and allows the wind to be his guide to the ocean below. Out of reflex, his hindpaws try to reach out and find purchase, only to splash on the waters surface and sink below along with his tail. His wings beat one last time, before the rest of his bulk eases into the water. His wings spread out across the surface, to both rest them and help keep him stable in the water. His limbs trail below as he simply lets the wind push him where it wills. A quiet sigh escapes from his mouth, tired from both his long distance flight and the increasingly frequent need for these rests.
Draelen lowers his head towards the water and takes in a few mouthfuls of the salty liquid. It is not as refreshing as the water inland, but it was better than going without. He had adapted his body to handle the ocean water in the week before setting out over these waters, it would have been difficult to survive this far out without being able to drink the highly saline liquid. With a little help from some of his primal energies, his body separates enough salt from the water and stores it in his second stomach, in a more highly concentrated form, until there's enough for him to cough back into the ocean. It had taken him a few days to perfect the process, drinking a mix of fresh and salt water, before he eventually found the right balance of energies his body needed, allowing it to separate enough for him to begin to survive on sea water alone. The end result was not much different to how some seabirds handle the water. He certainly was no seabird, though he made use of some energies his race was known to possess to aid the process.
Grimacing slightly from the taste, he peers into the distance, even though it meets with nothing but an enveloping darkness and seemingly infinite expanse of water, air and sky. It had been a while since he curled up in a warm cave, or spoke with anyone he knew. The ocean had been his only home and source of food for the last week, strange and unknown new lands had been his refuge for another three before that.
If he abandoned his search right now, he would still just manage the flight back to the strange lands he took wing from, within a few days at best. These short rests would only keep him going for so long, for without land to rest and recover himself fully, he would eventually be left too weak from fatigue to manage the difficult takeoff from the surface.
"Where are you?" he murmurs quietly into the immense, almost overwhelming distance. His voice held a note of sadness, though it also held an underlying determination that he would not fail, at least while he still lived to try.
A steady stream of wind made his crest and earfins ripple lightly in the night air. Draelen shivered a little as the ocean slowly and persistently leeched a small amount of warmth from his body and outstretched wings. He closed his eyes and huddled a little closer into himself. The only sounds to keep him company were the constant deep hiss of rain and water colliding as far as the sound would travel. It was not exactly sleep, but it was the best he could do to recover strength before continuing on what began to feel like an impossible search. He knew another few hours of flight in this direction would bring him past the point of no return. He was committed.
И к картинке имеется история. Из которой не все моменты понятны, но подыхание там явно не планируется:
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