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Schingiuire
If you don't mind expanding it again, I'd appreciate it. If not, that's fine too. I have a few hundreds words down, just need to write the other half and edit.
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Schingiuire
If you don't mind expanding it again, I'd appreciate it. If not, that's fine too. I have a few hundreds words down, just need to write the other half and edit.
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I have an Ancestor skin (Rockbreaker’s Celebration) for a Snapper male. Would anyone here like to have it, as a gift? Wouldn’t mind seeing people’s wishlists for things!
I have an Ancestor skin (Rockbreaker’s Celebration) for a Snapper male. Would anyone here like to have it, as a gift? Wouldn’t mind seeing people’s wishlists for things!
All Nest Rentals - 5g/5kt and 40 food pls
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Schingiuire
May I be entered for the weekly lottery Bogsneak?
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Schingiuire
May I be entered for the weekly lottery Bogsneak?
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Good characters are like geodes: To see their true beauty, you must break them.
-Let me write you a poem, maybe?-
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you are all fantastic,
if you see this have a very lovely day
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@Schingiuire I'd like to claim Avocado.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=46717793]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/467178/46717793_350.png[/img]
[/url]
Again, Avocado was being chased. It seemed that he had lost his touch with scrounging. He zipped through the water, evading nearby fish and scraggly pieces of coral. The Guardian was a much better swimmer though, and caught up quickly. Thinking fast, Avocado turned around and spread his wings, letting the sun shine off of his opalescent patches and into the eyes of the unsuspecting dragon. He roared in pain turning away to adjust. But this was all he needed. Before the Guardian could turn around again, Avocado had caught a fast current away.
After finding a suitable cave to hide in and catching his breath, he looked through the sacks he had grabbed. One was full of shinies, coins, jewelry, and other beautiful pieces of treasure. Another was filled with shellfish and preserved sea life. The third was filled with different types of clothing: some purely for aesthetic, some for surviving heavy winters, and some old pieces that looked like they either were sentimental or belonged to someone important.
[i]Perfect,[/i] he thought. [i]Just what I need to escape the sea and start over somewhere else.[/i] He slept that night in a cave close to the shallows, and in the morning he took his 'possessions' and hit the road. [i]The Scarred Wasteland sounds like a good place to me. The dragons there are survivors. And if I'm not as well, then what [/i] am [i]I?[/i]
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Schingiuire I'd like to claim Avocado.
Again, Avocado was being chased. It seemed that he had lost his touch with scrounging. He zipped through the water, evading nearby fish and scraggly pieces of coral. The Guardian was a much better swimmer though, and caught up quickly. Thinking fast, Avocado turned around and spread his wings, letting the sun shine off of his opalescent patches and into the eyes of the unsuspecting dragon. He roared in pain turning away to adjust. But this was all he needed. Before the Guardian could turn around again, Avocado had caught a fast current away.
After finding a suitable cave to hide in and catching his breath, he looked through the sacks he had grabbed. One was full of shinies, coins, jewelry, and other beautiful pieces of treasure. Another was filled with shellfish and preserved sea life. The third was filled with different types of clothing: some purely for aesthetic, some for surviving heavy winters, and some old pieces that looked like they either were sentimental or belonged to someone important.
Perfect, he thought.
Just what I need to escape the sea and start over somewhere else. He slept that night in a cave close to the shallows, and in the morning he took his 'possessions' and hit the road.
The Scarred Wasteland sounds like a good place to me. The dragons there are survivors. And if I'm not as well, then what am
I?
audric - repi - comm
it/its - ie/ier - ie/iem - ve/vem
i'm friendly! feel free to shoot a pm or leave a profile comment :D
@Schingiuire May I claim this lovely gent, please? If I end up getting him, I'd like to name him Fog.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=47411854]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/474119/47411854_350.png[/img]
[/url]
Lore:
Too old to be hatchlings anymore, too young yet to be called mature; Fog huddled down amongst his siblings, struggling to calm his mind. In the frigid night air the nest – if one could find it between the pile of dragons spilled upon it – was blissfully warm. The bedding smelled faintly of milkweed – of home, of childhood memories. By all means, Fog wasn’t meant to have any problems falling asleep. [i]And therefore, naturally[/i], he thought, as he lay, staring upwards,[i] I do.[/i]
From his point of view, the stars twinkled. Fog’s gaze swam over them, noting the constellations they formed in passing, until he found his favourite star – a tiny speck of light off the side of the Hunter, bluer than the rest. Fog stared at it for a while, and then, almost by habit at this point, he pulled one of his wings out. The wings in question were half-see-through, their translucent facets marred by a myriad of tiny dots and imperfections still forming – and here it was, on one of them, still here, still real, the dot that mirrored so perfectly the one on the night’s sky; here were its companions, the twin dots on its left and the bright spot on its right; and there they were, Fog thought, as he moved his gaze upwards to look, for possibly the hundredth time so far, at the two faint yellow stars and the bright Eye of the Hunter, mocking him from above. Thrice he compared the two groups – stars and dots – and thrice he found them identical.
There had to be some sort of reason behind this, some deliberate design – yet try as he might, Fog couldn’t grasp it. He hadn’t told anyone of his discovery so far, fearing his siblings’ mockery, for who would believe the spots on his wings formed a map? And, besides, he thought, he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t only chance that a few of his markings resembled several stars. He had tried checking with a star map discretely during the day, when the light was strong enough for an investigation, but he struggled. There had been no real stars to compare to at the time; and in the night, when the stars were out, he felt silly and alone, abandoned to the mercy of the doubts that were eating him alive but which he stubbornly clung to, too afraid to reject. Random spots were random. Chance was chance. Neither the Arcanist nor one of the other gods would waste trier time to favor him of all dragons.
Yet here was the blue spot, and the Twins on its side, and the Eye on the other, and when Fog followed it towards his spine, guided by starlight, here was the rest of the Hunter. A fully-formed constellation of spots, some of which older, old enough to be from his hatchlinghood, some still fainter and new. Fog stared at his wing, his heart racing out of his chest, his mind struggling and finally, for once, failing completely to find a suitable rebuttal – and in that moment, he knew he had to tell somebody.
[i]If I’m going crazy, I need to hear it. But if I’m not…[/i]
If he wasn’t, Fog thought, he [i]needed[/i] an explanation.
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Schingiuire May I claim this lovely gent, please? If I end up getting him, I'd like to name him Fog.
Lore:
Too old to be hatchlings anymore, too young yet to be called mature; Fog huddled down amongst his siblings, struggling to calm his mind. In the frigid night air the nest – if one could find it between the pile of dragons spilled upon it – was blissfully warm. The bedding smelled faintly of milkweed – of home, of childhood memories. By all means, Fog wasn’t meant to have any problems falling asleep.
And therefore, naturally, he thought, as he lay, staring upwards,
I do.
From his point of view, the stars twinkled. Fog’s gaze swam over them, noting the constellations they formed in passing, until he found his favourite star – a tiny speck of light off the side of the Hunter, bluer than the rest. Fog stared at it for a while, and then, almost by habit at this point, he pulled one of his wings out. The wings in question were half-see-through, their translucent facets marred by a myriad of tiny dots and imperfections still forming – and here it was, on one of them, still here, still real, the dot that mirrored so perfectly the one on the night’s sky; here were its companions, the twin dots on its left and the bright spot on its right; and there they were, Fog thought, as he moved his gaze upwards to look, for possibly the hundredth time so far, at the two faint yellow stars and the bright Eye of the Hunter, mocking him from above. Thrice he compared the two groups – stars and dots – and thrice he found them identical.
There had to be some sort of reason behind this, some deliberate design – yet try as he might, Fog couldn’t grasp it. He hadn’t told anyone of his discovery so far, fearing his siblings’ mockery, for who would believe the spots on his wings formed a map? And, besides, he thought, he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t only chance that a few of his markings resembled several stars. He had tried checking with a star map discretely during the day, when the light was strong enough for an investigation, but he struggled. There had been no real stars to compare to at the time; and in the night, when the stars were out, he felt silly and alone, abandoned to the mercy of the doubts that were eating him alive but which he stubbornly clung to, too afraid to reject. Random spots were random. Chance was chance. Neither the Arcanist nor one of the other gods would waste trier time to favor him of all dragons.
Yet here was the blue spot, and the Twins on its side, and the Eye on the other, and when Fog followed it towards his spine, guided by starlight, here was the rest of the Hunter. A fully-formed constellation of spots, some of which older, old enough to be from his hatchlinghood, some still fainter and new. Fog stared at his wing, his heart racing out of his chest, his mind struggling and finally, for once, failing completely to find a suitable rebuttal – and in that moment, he knew he had to tell somebody.
If I’m going crazy, I need to hear it. But if I’m not…
If he wasn’t, Fog thought, he
needed an explanation.
Can I be entered in for the lottery derg please? :3
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Schingiuire can you put Akantha on hold for me please?
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Schingiuire can you put Akantha on hold for me please?
