Animula

History: He was hatched for one reason, and one reason only: To play imperfection to the perfect one, the golden one. To make that child more perfect, he needed to be ugly to make it seem all the better, all the more worthwhile - and for all his imperfections, he played this role perfectly. He was ugly when he hatched; the bright cyan of his eyes clashing with the dull yellows of his scales. They never bothered cleaning off the slurry of his egg, and so it stuck; when they chucked him out of the lair, bow-legged and underweight, it eventually peeled off under the hot sun of the desert, left pale patches all over him.

He was born ugly and weak, to parents allowed inside the MIGHTY MAN-CAVE OF MANGENTA MANS only because they had some hope of hatching the perfect child. Their names were Salve and Vale, ancient language for 'Hello' and 'Goodbye', and they carried these names with shame, knowing that these held their wretched fates. No sooner had the eggs hatched, both were gone without so much as a greeting or farewell to their hatchlings; the names were deemed enough. And so they left the lair quickly, quietly, slinking away as the perfect one was held up to the clan's leader, the finest of silks draped almost comically across its shivering form. His parents were afraid, just like he was - afraid of the aggressive mangenta dragons that dominated the clan, that respected might and might only. They knew they had served their purpose when they left him, and he supposed that in those few seconds where he had lain shivering and shaking besides the healthy, strong, golden child, he had served his.

Where to go? What to do, now that he had no purpose? Intelligence said that he should lie down and die here, but survival instincts said otherwise; for days, he stumbled on across the desert, dragging his little body up across sand dunes and then tumbling down the other side. With every step, his strength faded a little, until eventually he collapsed altogether - a little heap of sandy scales and wings. His colours kept him camouflaged from the beasts that stalked these lands, which was a relief and a curse; a relief because he had some time left, a curse because he had some time left.

He was ugly, and he had no purpose.

He didn't deserve another chance.

And yet, he hoped.

He hoped and he prayed and his chance came.

In her travels, Mestra's keen eyes caught the barest moving brown speck among a sea of sand. Her curiosity pulled her from the skies and her form blocked the blazing sun from his poor abused body.

He cowered, afraid as she assessed him, letting out the smallest cry when she picked him up gently and placed him in her satchel. She was no tracker, but she knew which clan owned the nearby territory. Carefully, his new caretaker looked and scoured the area for any other unfortunate children.

But after so long of finding none, she returned home and the clan welcomed their unexpected addition.

He was terrified at first, but after some time, and the reuniting with his sister, that terror turned into endless gratefulness. He swore up and down that he would do whatever asked, but little was ever really expected of the two. However, their aptitude with handling new hatchlings and caring for the nests was quickly noticed and the siblings were placed in charge of the nesting grounds.


Personality: Very depressive owing to the above backstory. Very quiet and muted, tends to try to run away from trouble and back out of any kind of argument. Tends to skulk at the back of the lair, barely believing that he deserves a place; will be eternally grateful and extremely loyal to the clan that takes him in.