Mollick

4/29-5/6/2015:

His coming to the clan was, to put it simply, rather humiliating. Mollick preferred not to talk about it, but it involved being tossed out and about the swirling winds of the Twisting Crescendo, and yelping in pain when something metal grabbed him by the tail... Yes. Quite embarrassing. Due to the incident, Inferno, one of the clan's warriors, assigned to the Fae a Mistral Minion. As the clan flitted from one spot to the other, paving their way to the eye of the storm, Mollick followed suit.

"Interesting," he would remark. "How so many spirits were crammed and joined inside a vessel. And then they had, after quite a time, become an amalgam of a mysterious being..." Sometimes, from one direction or another, something (or the carcass of someone) seemed to attempt knocking the life out of him, and while he was grateful for the familiar's coming to aid, Mollick wished that he be able to study it, just for a bit.

Mollick would stop, feeling the stare on him. No doubt he'll be trained again; "To be able to brave the storm," as Inferno put it. Not that he's complaining, mind. Already he learned so many things about the winds that are his origin. The storm is a harsh place. Han taught him that to be able to enjoy the breezes, one must be accustomed to the gales first. Azurescape and Cadence, in their largeness and habitual clumsiness, taught him the importance of dodging, of sidestepping away from danger—"You're not being less of anything if you do," the male Imperial roared, "You're just being smart and living to see another day."

He learned many things.