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Stolen Crown; ZINC
Topic Started: Jul 4 2011, 01:29 AM (424 Views)
Seiss
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Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
He landed with a harsh backward sweep of wings, betraying the monstrous coil of blood red fury threatening to possess him. The bright pulse of his inner flames filled his form with a blinding ferocity. Trampled grass curled under the expulsion of his heat as he sank his claws into the marked earth. Muscled shoulders strained and bulged and his spine arched like a coil of whip about to strike. Burning silver eyes, infused with conflicting emotions seared to the shards of his irises swept over the bank of the river. He wanted to rip the cover of grass from the ground and scrape the river clean of defilement. The grass, mussed and pressed down by the resting bodies of their females bore the jarring marks of struggle, the scent of blood and Taint intertwined.

Again. They took from him what was his to protect. Again. The crippling pain sailed from the past and embedded itself between his ribs, driving him back upon stumbling feet. Harsh breaths, acrid with the incinerating temperatures inside him sanded past his lungs. He was never worthy of a mate nor a offspring he couldn’t shield, but he had taken; taken as his heart viciously told him to lest he died of a confounding thirst without them. They were gone. He’d stared death in the face and laughed; laughed then cried. Death and demon walked hand in hand.

The soldiers he battled with, the females, his to protect when they rested their wings. He failed them, always too late. Three.Breaths, heavier and hotter rushed through his pale nostrils on terribly etched snout. A snarl contorted and shattered the calm noblesse demeanour and replaced it with one of a demon’s. Dark pupils sharpened to lethal points. A burn so acute, pouring like acidic lava from his chest, to the rest of him was devouring him slowly, staining his soul with more veins of black. What the Taints had done- snatching their females under their noses- he knew it for the worst humiliation, the foulest insult to his rank.

They had stripped it from him. Standing motionless against the wind, he felt raw, fur and scales gone from his hide to expose his flesh to the elements. The stinging hurt generated from the pulse of his heart captured him in the finest net, spider web of acid wrapping ever sinew, every muscle. Hide aglow with the brilliance of the Sun God’s crown, he trembled, a physical body filled to its brim and bursting at the seams to contain his rage, pure searing white that could very well turn his blood to vapour. Teeth bared and maddened gaze drawn shut, he lunged forward, fore paws landing with a powerful pound that shook the earth loose underneath. Pale crown brightening from pale gold glow beneath the plates to a blinding blue, and finally white, he unlocked his jaws, tongue the bright white of a flame core and unleashed a treacherous roar to the Murks- a meld of thunder and marching battalion, strung with the guttural, clawing howl of a soul sold to the fell flames that promised retribution.

Leaf blades crackled to dust under the shimmering heat in the air at his feet. The snarl remained on his face long after his hellish call faded into the Tainted land’s rotting gullet.
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Zinc
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The Owl Waife
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Unsettling. That was the word for the Academy as of late. Everyone had been subdued, a melancholy haze tinged with outrage had settled over the grounds. To the young Rosemary, it was somehow stifling. He had been one of those affected by the Taint's kidnappings. Perhaps not quite as directly as being one of the females that had been abducted, but still...amongst them had been family. More correctly, his own mother. The moment that he had finally been told by Larka, he had been shocked...appalled...numb. He hadn't quite known what to feel, and for many hours afterwards, he'd been silent, his eyes fixated on nothing in particular, a far away look upon his features, his rider watching him with worry.

In the days that had passed since then, the young Rosemary had taken to wandering without his rider. His normally happy demeanor had been more subdued as he got his first taste of how the Taint could so directly influence everything that happened at the Academy. The influx of wounded he had seen, had felt an instinctual calling to help, but was forced to watch from afar. Too young was he to help. That moment itself had been frustrating to him, making him feel perhaps, as useless as he'd once thought he'd been. He'd remembered what his brother Opiat had said the day that he'd hidden away beneath his mother's arm in fear. "You're not going to get very far under there." Hiding would get him nowhere. He wanted to help, with a fierceness that scared him.

So he walked. Hoping that perhaps it would expend his restless energy. The walks took him nowhere in particular, the drab Rosemary following an aimless path outside of the Academy's walls, still unable to fly just yet, it strengthened his legs and endurance. Sometimes they took him as far as Lihn. Today was one of those days. He weaved wordless amongst the crowded markets before off into the outskirts, through the tents and makeshift roads of the refugees that had taken root like a great meadow of white canvas and humanity. Some gave him a nod, or spoke a few words. Sometimes he would greet them in return, maybe a faint smile. Some had recognized him as he wove his way through their streets many days in a row. Still small, it might have been unwise for him to be out on his own.

But perhaps the numbness and pent up energy were, in some ways, doing him some good. They took him through the crowded cities of Lihn, giving him the chance to adapt to so many people around him, people far larger than he. Slowly, he was getting desensitized to those of greater height than he. At least when it came to people and smaller dragons. The fact that he met Grund might just fix that, but he wasn't sure just yet. His rambles of thought as he passed along the edges of the city were cut off as he heard a loud and ear-shattering roar. Startled, Lichen froze, heart thundering in his chest, his crest flaring up in alarm, revealing pink beneath. As the roar gained volume before it cut off, he caught within it's tones a fury belonging perhaps only to the damned. He felt a shiver ripple his hide in fear, causing the downy fur to stand up as his scales rattled, the sound drowned out by the roar.

As it cut off, Lichen remained stock still for several long moments. What, by the First, had that been?! Certainly not a Taint? They wouldn't have been allowed anywhere near here, patrols had since doubled after the Sekkain had been taken from beneath their noses. However...who knew for sure? But still...there was something about that roar. Something that pulled at Lichen. He picked up his feet in a nervous prance of indecision before he shot forwards and out into the trees to hunt for the source. He found it. The still echoing roar had made it difficult to find at first, but the creature he was looking for stood out so greatly against the back drop of trees, not only from size but from color, that it was in the end, not so difficult a task after all.

Lichen stared up at the great white dragon, stock still and watching from a great distance away. There was rage in the air. He could feel it, it caused the Rosemary's already fluffed hide to bristle, his small crest to stiffen upon the crown, his muscles to tense. He didn't like it. Not one bit. Heat crackled around the dragon in waves, he could see the shimmering air as it warped the air around his body. This dragon...was glowing with his rage. His snarl showed sharp teeth that were without a doubt deadly sharp. What was it, Lichen wondered, his small chest still heaving from his earlier start and run, that had caused this dragon such anger?
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Seiss
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Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
Pale wings unfolded slowly, lifted and stretched skywards with such effort they seemed to be struggling against invisible restraints. Ventral edge that mimicked a bird’s fanned out with his outstretched fingers to seek the tendrils of a breeze. Face scribed with tangible fury tipped skywards, casting eyes of silver moon filled with longing and choking powerless onto the silent, endless vastness above. He wanted to find them- Anamchara, Vajra and Vlitzcrig. Find them and give them the justice they deserved. There was a near painful starvation within him that fed him the impossible strength to raze through an entire Tainted legion and still be hungry for more. How many others were taken?

Fur and spines alike rose from their rest in a grand display upon his rage, cast over him an illusion of greater mass. Asara wouldn’t let him go. Not like this. With the bleak knowledge that fettered him to helplessness, Dhruva let his wings drift down, dropping them loosely at his sides with a weakness of broken limbs. Hot drafts created by his expulsion of heat stirred a slumbering gale to life. The air, treading cool soothing fingers through his coat did nothing to the smouldering viciousness that had festered far too long inside him. Madness may not require the chipping of his crystal after all. But sense had yet to abandon him and with it, he had no excuse to let the charred remains take over. He could feel her behind the thick veil she constructed between them that diluted her emotions from him as well as he from her. But he knew, if he allowed himself to pause, her chill would eventually leech him of his fire.

No he didn’t want that. From the deep cavern of his chest, a deep reverberating growl rumbled. Flames, a brilliant pale blue flickered from his clenched teeth. She, who hardly dwelled upon wounds scored across her soul- sometimes he questioned if his bonded truly lived. Dhruva had never wanted to choose an escape that easy.

A powdery, shy scent twisted with a babe’s soft giving skin wafted to his nose, a hidden tendril among the rank of smoky char. Dhruva whirled around in a violent whip of motion, intent upon dismissing the intruder. But he saw no one, and the indistinct scent belonged to no one he knew. Carefully, he scoped the trees, body still rigid with his anger. Pinpricks of bright pink, a glowing shade set against fertile brown seized his attention. When he recognized that the unnatural shades belonged to a tiny wrymling, his entire form stilled, muscles poised yet slacked between strains. Fierce lines that carved deep into his muzzle faded.

Within the brief suspended moment, a curdling disgust with himself overwhelmed all else. Had the innocent youngling seen it all? His heart chilled and with it, the light inside him dimmed and flickered to inexistence. Flaxen crown and spines alike drooped, loosened. His shoulders sagged imperceptibly as he adopted a weary stance. Heat around him retreated quickly and the sudden drop in temperature stroked mild whipping winds easily to life. The cool touch sifted through his fur, patiently persistent in its attempt to calm him.

“It is not safe to come out here alone, little one,” he murmured with a voice, though subdued, always bore the rich depth that thrummed. A young Rosemary. His silvery eyes were hooded with apology, but the anguish still lurked fresh beneath. His limbs creaked as he shifted his weight, and he sank to lie by the river bank. Crowned head, too lowered, sinuous neck forming a loose curve and his jaw rested over the grass so he could watch the Rosemary. “I am sorry if I frightened you. Won’t you come sit with me?” There was rawness in his request, a silent plea for company. For a while… he didn’t want to be the demon in the youngling’s eyes.

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Zinc
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Even though the great pale dragon's roaring had ceased, his rage had far from subsided. Wings raised high over his head fighting as if trying to tame a storm's lashing gale, the young Rosemary though he could see, even from this distance, that they shook. Every single bit of strange furred hide of the great Fire stood on end, like a bristling cat. Spines upon his strange crown that trailed down his neck and his back, down his extensive sweeping tail. The wilted grass crunched and blackened beneath great paws and Lichen gulped, wondering if perhaps, it had been unwise to venture forth to find this dragon after all.

And for a moment, like the eye of a blistering tempest, the calm descended again. Not entirely had the rage vanished, for the snarl still etched the great white dragon's face in a leonine manner. His wings fell to his sides, and for a moment, Lichen crept forwards a hesitant step, afraid that perhaps, maybe he was hurt. He had no idea how in the midst of his raging, that the dragon might have done so, or maybe he had done so before his anger had started. Maybe that was his source? He stopped his movement however, when from the white, pale, and then deeper blue emerged. Flames spouting from the undeniably Fire dragon's maw, causing the plates upon his head to take on hints of the very same color.

The step he'd taken forwards was backpedaled in two, three, four scrambling steps back of his own as Dhruva whirled, the fury still etched on his features as he scanned the trees about him. Lichen's chest heaved from the start, his heart thundering and his pinky-violet eyes wide in terror. Was he going to get chased off? Walloped with a heavy paw? He certainly would go flying from a blow like that if the dragon wasn't of the best temperament. His crest flattened against his skull as his eyes locked with the brilliant silver ones of the great Fire. For a moment, Lichen thought his heart stopped beating. Then, surprisingly, the dragon's form stilled and the rage seemed to drop away from him.

Lichen, still trying to catch his breath once more, watched the glow fade from Dhruva's body as the dragon settled back, appearing to regain control of a calmer, if not weary, demeanor. Lichen's head lowered as the dragon spoke. He knew that, he'd been told that before. Yet...he still wandered. The restlessness that he felt, he couldn't help how far he had gone. Too far he knew. So instead of claiming that he knew what he did was wrong, he skipped right to the apology. "I'm sorry..." he stuttered in his lightly squeaky voice.

When Dhruva had settled, Lichen watched with a slightly tilted head. So great in size was this dragon, and so strange too. He had taken on an entirely different demeanor from the raging Fire he had seen before. How odd it was that emotions could warp something so differently. Wrath, as he had just found, was a potent emotion. As the great crowned head dropped to rest upon the grass of the riverbank, Lichen was called to approach. For a moment, the wyrmling did what he always did when overtaken by indecision. His feet wanted to follow orders, his head advised against, so he pranced nervously in place, like a wary horse.

In the end, it was a decision that his instincts made for him. Something about the rage held another factor to it. Lichen couldn't quite pick up on what, but he had seen subtle signs of it as it had subsided and grown back in the dragon's features and actions. Something caused him pain, not quite the physical kind. But a mental one, that could grow to hurt in a way that perhaps, almost felt as if something had been torn from oneself. Having not yet experienced such a pain, the little Wyrmling couldn't relate to Dhruva on that level. So he moved forwards, not quite at a run, but not quite at a lope either. A tripping clip of a pace that had him literally nose to nose with the great Fire dragon. He was sitting directly before him at attention, pink eyes focusing intently on the silver ones. He didn't understand what was bothering this great dragon, but as a healer, he felt it was his duty, not 'one day' but now, to help in any way that he could.
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Seiss
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Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
He watched the little one hesitate. The hardness in his gaze bled out to liquid silver as he simply waited, neither compelling nor pressuring the precious little shy flower to come. Brown… he couldn’t remember the last time he saw any other dragon outside the breed of Earths to possess such a thick, deep shade that was the symbol of nature, of fertile soil. But he had glimpsed, the brief moment of brilliance from the hatchling Rosemary. Coveted by jewellers from the all over the continent, more valuable than diamonds, was the priceless vibrant, enthralling shade that could only belong to polished bixbite. Shy smears were hidden near the stalks of feathers that adorned the youngling’s spine and wings. Whose beautiful young was this?

The little one’s voice, so tiny tugged upon his protective nature. It warmed him that he could perhaps be a safeguard for their precious young. Wishful, pitiful thinking… few knew about his love for them. During the Hatchings he watched them from afar, or sometimes didn’t look at all. Sweet as it was bitter, joyous the occasion was to him as well as it was sorrowful, he appeared not to care for it. But always, when no one looked, his eyes would stray to the Sands, find both torment and contentment when the little ones flitted by. He desire wasn’t simply to sire offspring, but to father them, too. Once he had what he wished for. When it was lost, he wondered if it was less painful for him to know none of such fortune at all. “Be careful, Sweet. You might stumble upon a much more malignant beast next time,” he said, relaying his concern instead of pressing for an admonishment. Then a wry bitter tone entered his voice, “Or when I am too angry to care for what I destroy.”

When the Rosemary finally dared to come, his eyes were alight with relief and adoration. A rough smile hung at the edge of his lips when he noted the deer-like daintiness which he moved, and a slight stiffness that hinted at the young’s wariness. A quiet thrum, like a feline’s purr amplified sent a mild tremor rolled from his chest to his throat and to the ground. The blackness scored across his weathered soul was washed over by an innocent’s trust that he would do no harm. Dhruva’s warm breath ruffled the blades of grass before his nose, the path on which the young Rosemary chose to come forward. So serious for one his age. “Well met, little one. What is your name?” he asked, shifting his head so one silvery eye was focused on the Rosemary. The thought of getting cross-eyed over something so small tickled him. “Who is your Sire, and your Dam?”
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Lichen's eyes swept over the great Fire, his eyes wide and full of a young dragon's curiosity. His form was one of a strange craftsmanship. He lacked scales and was, apparently, covered in a layer of fur rather than the regular scales of orange or perhaps black or yellow that most of his breed had. And yet, he was white, not any of those colors. Strange scaled plates created a great crest upon his head that was followed by strange feathery spines. His wings as well, were not of the membranous variety, but rather, made up of what appeared to be feathers as well. Rather than continue his inspection of the vast Fire, he turned his attention back to the great silver eye that had drifted to the side to watch him.

He had been well aware that he could have stumbled upon something so dangerous, and for that, he felt guilt burn within his gut. He shouldn't have been wandering on his own anyway. He was small, he was young, and if there was a Taint within the vicinity, he certainly couldn't fly to get away. He would prove no match to any danger that would present itself to him. Built lightly, he couldn't fight his way out of a dangerous encounter if he wanted to. Huffing a sigh of brief frustration that expanded his small ribcage beneath his dull brown hide, Lichen's head looked up to gaze at Dhruva with attentive violet and pink eyes at the tail end of his comment. That, that statement right there was probably why he had stayed rather than turned tail and run when he'd seen the raging dragon standing there and roaring into the forest.

The question slipped out faster than he could realize he should have withheld it. "What had you so angry?" His tiny voice lowered to soft tones as he spoke, knowing it was probably a question that was better left to stay in the pile of things labeled 'unasked'. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't something happy, and was better left to not be dwelled upon. Stuttering quickly to recover for his mistake, Lichen hurriedly said, "Y-You don't h-have to answer t-that if you don't...want to." He finished lamely, his head lowering as his crest dropped against his head in embarrassment.

His head lifted again to look up at the great silver eye as the deep rumbling purr rattled through the clearing. He could feel it deep in his chest so close he was to the great Fire. His crest barely flickered upward, now appearing to be a tuft of fluff and feathers rather than nothing at all upon the top of his skull. Too busy was he trying to adjust the rumbling feeling that the sound of the purr rattling through his bones caused that he almost missed the dragon's questions. "I am called Lichen." he stated with a quick bob of his head. "My mother is the Rosemary Iridae. My sire is the Rosemary Paradisio." he said quickly, wanting to present the information without making the great white dragon wait.

"May I ask your name?" he fluted curiously.
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Seiss
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Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
He saw the little body heave a deep breath and deflate when he voiced a light chastisement to the young. Dhruva resisted a smile, so enamoured with the little herbal flower he was, he found the little huff absolutely, endearing. Tiny, young, but the Rosemary had courage. How many hatchlings could march straight to his nose and sit so close to his teeth? He said nothing to ease Lichen’s remorse, however. It was better taught this way, for his own safety. Later, perhaps he would cajole the little one to happier things. A long quiet breath blow through his nose. The lids of his eyes drifted lower, shadowing his eyes to a crystalline gray and left a ring of luminous silver shards round his dark iris. Happy things… those didn’t come by easy once one grows up.

The timid and hurriedly retracted question didn’t come as a surprise to the Fire. His head canted imperceptibly, wishing to catch and remember the little voice. He was so focused on the unique tenor that he had almost forgotten the nature of the question. For a long, suspended moment, Dhruva rested his gaze on the small dragon. He looked as someone who had gone on a journey and back, would look upon another whose life had yet begun. But no, he hadn’t come back yet. Perhaps he never would. It was an innocent question, but Lichen seemed to grasp, that it was more than simplicity could afford. The incandescent shards retracted in a slow shifting spin with the movement of his eye. He wondered if the youngling could understand, when there weren’t enough words to convey how he really felt. “There is nothing wrong to ask when you wish to know the answer,” he finally said, lifting his head from the grass and twisting his neck around to look beyond, where the Taint lands lay. “Do you feel sad and angry when someone takes something that is yours? The black ones took many things from me,” the rumble of his voice quieted, yet it weighted down upon their air like dead weight.

He wanted to say that they had carved and spirited away so many of his very own. His love, his flesh and blood, his self- “They took our soldiers while they were at rest. I am here….” His silvery gaze swept across the marked field with a smouldering need that had him gagged. “I come too late and look what we’ve lost.”

Lowering his head back down when the Rosemary announced his name and his parents’, Dhruva thrummed, pondering. “Lichen. I remember the healers like to have it for their medicines.” He frowned, trying to recall why Iridae sounded so familiar…. The Rosemary at the shore. She was one of the captured, too. A snarl curled his lips. He released a long pent up breath through his teeth in a mild show of temper, but subsided quickly. “I’ve seen your mother… a few times,” he said, tone subdued.

His name. He blinked, rested his jaw back on the grass and nosed the Rosemary’s chest. “Yes you may, little flower. “ A weary smile lifted the edge of his lips. “I’m Dhruva.”
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Zinc
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Lichen's violet gaze flickered away from the ground and up to watch Dhruva's own silver ones that had such a strangely bright quality to them. Metallic, they reminded him of the great Steel that had been on the sands when had been born. A quick flicker of a memory, mostly of a color and gleam, the depths of the eyes were the same, but lacked the metallic glint. They were deeper in a way. His gaze wandered from the eyes of the dragon up to the plates that settled upon his head. He had seen them move. Did they shift and raise and lower just like his crest? The small tuft of feathers, so unlike the proud vibrancy and size of his brother's flicked upright at the thought, unveiling small slivers of pink beneath the brown. How curious he was.

Much to the young Rosemary's surprise, the question he had let slip and then hurriedly retracted received no anger, but an answer. He tilted his head, his crest lowering a touch closer to his skull, hiding the pink once more and leaving the only touch of vibrancy to the splashes of dull green across his legs and chest accompanying his eyes and crystal. Nothing wrong with asking? Well, certainly there might have been questions that were better left unasked, but for now, he simply nodded his head, agreeing with the great male's words. When someone took something of his? He often felt sad, a little irritated, but it wasn't in his nature to get angry. Regardless, he did feel a stir of bitter emotions when something of that nature occurred to him. He nodded his head faintly before freezing at what the elder said next. The black ones, it took no imagination to figure out what he meant, had taken things from him too?

Lichen let out a gentle hum and kneaded the ground slightly with his front paws, his gaze following Dhruva's to the dark lands beyond them both. "They took some things from me too." he murmured. "My momma's out there somewhere. I think my sire is too." There was a forlorn and slightly desperate hint to his tones. He would have charged out to find them along with those who had been sent to scout had he been old enough. Not that a Rosemary was good for much besides healing, but he would have went with them all the same. It was his mother after all! He shifted his gaze to Dhruva as he continued, sounding slightly strained in his voice.

"I don't think anyone saw it coming..." He hadn't even been told until several days later, when his mother was long gone from his grasp, he and his brother's both. Lichen startled as he heard that Dhruva had met his mother. His crest flared up in happiness, so his dam was known! He felt a smile curl his mouth. "I'm happy you know her! She's a very strong momma." his tone dropped to confiding, his mouth still smiling a little. She had encouraged him to go forth and find his bonded. A statement that they wouldn't dare cause him harm. She had even said that she would deal with any hatchling who tried to eat him. It was silly now, he realized, to think he may have been eaten by any of his hatch mates. But he supposed that was all a part of being small and timid. His brother Opiat didn't lack the confidence to go forth...but then again...that was Opiat.

"Dhruva." Lichen tested the name uncertainly, miming how the older dragon had pronounced it. "I don't know what a Dhruva is." He stated in confusion. He knew what an Opiat was, and he knew what a lichen was, and with some research had figured out what a grund was, but had no idea what a Dhruva was. His head cocked sideways to regard the regal fire. "Why do you call me a flower? A lichen is not a flower...It is dull, and green. It clings to rocks. Nothing like a flower." It was perhaps, a misunderstanding on his part, but still a point he was trying to clarify as he mulled it over in his young mind.
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Seiss
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Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
The silence that stuffed his throat like thick wool and pressed upon his tongue hung poignant over his head. He simply looked at the little Rosemary, gaze mercurial with unspoken emotion. A hatchling only a few weeks old and he already had to suffer the loss of his parents. Perhaps it didn’t quite matter, since dragons now didn’t mother their young. The task was left to their chosen humans. But still… the loss of a kin was a sad thing. Just as how their great race split itself due to the grudge of a single dragon who refused to let go. Dhruva wanted to go- ached to go after the ones taken. The longer they were left in the hands of Taint, the more unlikely they were to survive. He wanted to deliver the parents to this little Rosemary who dared to face him when he was so close to blind rage.

So much faith Lichen had in his dam. She was a blessed mother to have such a charming little offspring. The little flower had unknowingly crawled right into his heart. No one saw it coming… that wasn’t entirely true. Asara had been uncharacteristically restless a day after they had secured victory over their most recent battle. He knew her long enough to scent something was amiss. The fact that she had sent their Lightning Spines straight back to Lihn gave him reason to suspect that his chosen probably had a clue. Yet… as much as he wanted to pin the blame, Dhruva understood the limits of Asara’s bizarre capability. Like most creatures attuned to their predators or prey, she only caught a whiff. And despite her knowledge, the inevitable could not be avoided no matter what prevention measures one took. He returned Lichen’s smile with a small fond one. He said his mother was strong. “Then I am sure she will come back. We’ll do all we can to bring them back to you.”

When they deviated from the gloomy discussion of stolen dragons, he couldn’t help smiling. Silvery eyes glittered and crinkled with mirth. “Lichen is your name, little one. Rosemary is what we call your breed. All of us are dragons. But we can’t all be named ‘Dragon’ or ‘Rosemary’. So we all have names to distinguish ourselves apart from each other,” he tried to extend his explanation as simply as possible. “I beg to differ little flower. You are not dull. Come here, stand at the edge of the river with me.” He lifted his head in an oiled motion of powerful tendons and arranged his paws beneath him to stand. His footfalls were padded by the grass, far from the heavy stomp of Earths. Standing at the brink of the river in his pale splendour, he twisted his neck around to look for Lichen. The sun caught filaments of his fur and his sceathers diffused the light into soft, dusted gleams.

“Stand tall, spread your wings as far as you can,” he told the little Rosemary. “Like this.” The Fire unfurled his own extensive wings, raising them high and fanning out his sceathers to catch the sunlight. “The sun feels good beneath. Look at your reflection. You are not entirely dull, little flower.”
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In the silence of awaiting the greater dragon's reply, he waited, patiently. It was not his place as young dragonet to demand or push at his elders. He listened instead, to the pause. It was heavier than he should have liked, and though there were birds beginning to pipe up again after the older dragon's raging howl not so long ago, he still found it to be...quiet. He tilted his head up at the elder dragon, Dhruva.

When he finally spoke, it was to announce that his mother should indeed return, that they would find them. A surge of happiness rose in him. They would be found. They would be brought back. He didn't know when, and he wasn't sure if the elder fire knew either, but it would happen. He smiled and nodded, his soft violet-pink eyes fixing on his paws briefly. "I'm glad..." he murmured with a nod. "I do hope to see her again. It has...affected my brother and I. It is...hard to see him so off-balance." he murmured, trailing off at last. He felt maybe he was divulging too much personal information. He wasn't sure how his brother was doing, and unlike what most thought about twins, he knew very little of what his brother was up to. There was no connection between them that he could sense aside from their mother and their shared eggshell.

His crest flared up as he listened attentively, eyes focused on the dragon as he learned. He liked that he was coming to understand the world outside of his eggshell so much better than he had that eve he had been born. He had been born with innate things...but there was still much to know. He blinked. "So I am a Rosemary and I am also called 'flower'?" he asked, still rather mystified by the concept of being something that bloomed and flourished brightly rather than a tough little plant that clung to rocks. But again, the great dragon cut him off from his thoughts, 'you are not dull'. What? He watched the great Fire shift towards the river's edge, and followed on dainty paws.

As the massive dragon raised his wings wide, Lichen marveled at his wingspan. He was majestic, sure of his movements. There was no awkardness or gangliness of the youth that he possessed. He was grand as anything he'd ever seened. He envied him for that ability. Uncertainly, Lichen untucked his wings from his side, shaking them out and lifting them up above his head. He felt the feathers slide out from their layers and stretch out to their full length. They were still small, nowhere near the size they would be when he was fully grown. He gave his brown wings a few long blinks, noting the hints of pink that streaked the dorsal feathers before he looked down at the water.

There was the vibrant pink on the undersides. The streaks of bright colors of violet and purple and bright hues that he always forgot about. He kept them closed away most of the time. But he could feel the sun touching the large primaries and the smaller secondaries as he blinked at his reflection. The pink suddenly brightened his form considerably from the cool tones of the browns and greens.
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