Cahir
(#12198966)
Level 1 Coatl
Lief
Black-wing Hummingbird
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Coatl
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
7.56 m
Wingspan
8.15 m
Weight
1111.25 kg
Genetics
Chocolate
Bar
Bar
Chocolate
Daub
Daub
Avocado
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Coatl
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
7
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
5
MND
6
Biography
Cahir the Shining
Clan Plant Alchemist | Familiar Caretaker| Bamboo Farmer
Part Time Chef at the Emerald Locust Tavern
Clan Plant Alchemist | Familiar Caretaker| Bamboo Farmer
Part Time Chef at the Emerald Locust Tavern
   MATE 
|
It was a normal life, he muses often. A normal childhood, a normal upbringing among normal people. Days spent under the warm sun that kissed his skin, and nights around a roaring fire where people danced and sang are still vivid--still loved, and cherished in his memory. He remembers the taste of clean spring water, and fresh roasted fish that still tasted a bit of the fire it was cooked over.
His favorite memories are those where he runs through bamboo taller than his still-growing body, feeling the young shoots brush against his fingertips, and even the stray twigs that would dig into his legs as he passed. He would tilt his head as he ran, and imagined he were flying as he drank in the sight of blue skies, and the golden-green glow of sunlight through leaves. And when he closed his eyes, the world still shone brightly as ever as he went dizzy, lungs straining, heart pounding. An ordinary, but somehow still extraordinary feeling. Generations old and new watched this child, watched as he tended to young bamboo plants with the same loving care as his father before him had--brilliant emerald eyes gleaming, with the widest smile on his handsome face kissed by the same sun that loved and protected his son. Sometimes, his grandmother would whisper in secret that his mother still cried tears of joy watching Cahir use his fathers' gift. Years passed, and the young boy with his father's smile grew into something that shone so familiarly, so strongly, that even young children flocked to his side to hold his large hands and ask him to make tiny seeds sprout tiny flowers. The elders sat still at his side, folding their shaking hands as he told them stories that flowed as a fountain from his imagination. Fields of purple flowers that danced with tiny birds in a whirlwind reverie. Carpets of emerald moss that could cradle you like a woven blanket. Winding rivers of water so clear, you could see to the bottom of the deepest pools. They smiled, amused, but thinking of distant places. One day, he woke to find that his things had been packed for him, and a cart full of precious bamboo sprouts had been readied. It was time. He loved his home, but he also knew that more awaited him, as the elders in their infinite and well-loved wisdom spoke. He kissed his mother, who cried one more time, on her smooth forehead. There was a time when she was able to do the same for him, without him having to lower his head. He remembers this, too, and smiles every time. He held the children in his arms as they bawled their goodbyes, and smoothed fat tears from their chubby cheeks. Finally, he gathered the frail elders in his strong arms, and clung tightly like the children had to him. Many laughed, stroked his hair, and told him to be good. The journey from the Plateau was a new, and magical thing. Days, nights, bleeding together, he boarded a ship that was large enough to accommodate his cart of tiny bamboo sprouts, and passed the Sea of a Thousand Currents. He pretended he was a brave knight on a journey to deliver magical plants to an ailing city. It passed the time, and even made the salt-skinned captain smile. He bid them goodbye at shore, and passed through a land that was darker than night, in some places. The wooden wheels of his little cart clattered merrily to announce his arrival, but he was not afraid, even as he watched the eyes in the darkness shine warily--and sometimes, with a sinister glint. In the marsh, he remembered seeing a pair of eyes like his mother had described, many times. They were wary, almost sad, but beautiful. He knew, in that moment, why his mother had loved them so. But, he carried on, the image of a boy whispering to the little tiny birds of his stories fresh in his mind. More stories for later, no doubt. When he finally arrived at his destination, it was nearly night, and the sunset was something that he knew he'd remember for the rest of his life. His father's homeland, that he'd heard of in story from the elders, his mother, and passers-by who visited his family's commune. He wishes, desperately, to have heard them from the lips of his father. Sometimes, he tries to imagine how his voice sounded. The tavern that he stopped at was lively, and warm, and...welcoming. He'd heard stories of the lady of the Glade, and her desperate bid to keep her children safe from everything that was not of her own blood. But, here, the eyes that glimmered in the low light were of all lands. Brilliant red, like blood. Beautiful, haunting white, like the billowy clouds above. And then, his mother's beloved emerald green. The man was smiling at him from across the room, and for some reason, it made his heart ache. It reminded him of home. His freckled cheeks flushed brilliantly, and the man laughed a booming laugh the likes of which he'd never heard. He never expected him to approach, but suddenly, his hands were in the others'--they were even larger than his, darker, warm as if he'd been bathing in the sun all day. A Fae man bustled by the two of them, prim and proper, with gleaming golden eyes that belay wisdom, sharpness, but a hidden sweetness, like honey. A woman wandered behind, and smiled at him as she did--eyes that same gold. 'The owners of this establishment,' the man had spoken in light of his curiosity, Cahir's head tilting back to peer into the achingly beautiful face of the man still grasping his hand. His accented voice struck him to the core, and suddenly, he almost felt as if the whole room were looking at him. A precursory glance, and he noted that...goodness, they were, indeed. How had it gotten this quiet without him noticing? Embarrassed, he introduced himself swiftly--but before he could go into much detail, the man spoke once more. 'We know.' They knew? But... Ah...there they were--a pair of eyes like the sea he'd crossed to come here. A wide smile, and a raise of the mug he held in his hand. 'Were...you waiting for me?' he remembers distinctly asking. 'Of course. This is your welcoming party.' The Clan in the Mists, a beautifully diverse family, had been his destination all along. It is here that he cares for his precious bamboo, finally taller than him once more. Sometimes, he still runs through it, as he did as a child. A Marbled Jester runs at his side now, and hummingbirds flit in swarms over his field of purple flowers--his beloved Fogflowers, and Umbra Parthenium. And there, sometimes, sits the boy who speaks to hummingbirds. The boy he is lucky enough to now call his own, who he's able to scoop into his arms, and hold blissfully tight, as they swing 'round and 'round in circles enough to make them both dizzy. The emerald moss is still soft as a blanket, and the water deep and clear runs beside it, flowing with love and life. He never believed his stories would come true...but he often murmurs that he's glad that they have, as he gazes at the rings on both his, and his beloved's fingers. Twining them together, he has made the silent vow that he will always continue to tell them--and does, often, around the familiar bonfire built every night, that his new family sits by. They laugh. They dance. They sing. Some things, it seems, were never meant to change. |
TEMPLATE BY XEMRISS #44020;
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This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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