Aurora
(#12616245)
SUBJ. #4041
Two
Fallout Streak
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Female Skydancer
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.12 m
Wingspan
5.11 m
Weight
509.11 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Iridescent
Iridescent
Red
Shimmer
Shimmer
Silver
Crackle
Crackle
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Skydancer
EXP: 734 / 4027
STR
4
AGI
10
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
19
VIT
14
MND
9
Biography
AURORA
I.
Test subject: 4041 / Condition: Stable H/R: 52BPM / B/W: normal She opened her eyes, and the world shifted like a prism before her. The two others—just past the chilly glass and thick liquid—were glints of spectacles set in shadows. Her scalp prickled. So did her arms—needles and suction cups nicked into her skin. A voice crackled. She’s doing well, isn’t she? That’s to be expected. There was a dry laugh that faded to a wet cough. She survived, after all. Yes. The first. Four-thousandth forty-first time is the charm. Now those shadows with glints were moving something in front of her. In the dim light, she saw it was a small glass cage with a smaller creature within. Something about it made her lower stomach crawl. She didn’t like it. Or, she felt sorry for it, and left without words to describe the feeling, she turned away like a child from a hated food. Its wings were tied, its beak muzzled. She flexed her own wings and was rewarded with a stab of pain. Easy, the voice crackled. She has to be conscious to start the link? Yes. Well, here goes nothing. Bright lights snapped on. An ominous blue glow grew around the glass box outside. In another instant, the light was on her, and she was screeching into nothing. Waves of shock and agony coursed through her. Memories, too, but not hers. The little beast’s. Being torn away from a dying mother, having horns soldered onto its head, cutting into the cranium, and so forth. She howled silently. The glinting eyes watched her dispassionately until the black descended on to her, a see-sawing curtain, falling.
II.
Can you hear me? This voice didn’t crackle. It came from some point in her own head and vibrated softly there. It was agony to open her eyes. So she didn’t. Can you? Yes. She could make the noises, too. They were successful, then. In their view… The voice trailed off for a moment. Her own head throbbed steadily. I want out. Out? The word tasted strange. She rolled it around in her mouth, and bubbles blew out before her. Unbidden, images of a different world played through her mind. Soft expanses of blue and green, heavenly, warm, velvety. Trees, the voice explained. Sky. As she watched, the world got darker, but there were lights in the sky that didn’t hurt her. She grasped after the thoughts, but the voice was hiding them. Wincing, she opened one eye. The Fallout Streak was peering up at her with intelligent eyes. It cocked its head, and the voice in her mind turned pleading. You are big and strong, you can get both of us out if you try, come, I’ll take you to out. Come with me. 4041 / H/R: 92BPM Please? The Streak’s beak half-opened. A sad, fluting note crackled in her ears. Yes, she thought. She flexed her wings and kept flexing past the pain tearing through her. The glass tube around her began to crack—vitreous liquid spilled onto the floor. Hurry! She flapped and clawed. The tube burst, spilling its contents to the floor. She staggered over a line of jagged glass, then beat on the Streak’s cage until it, too, was free. She tore its wing bindings off with her sharp claws. In her arms, the creature was as soft as the outside. A warning klaxon shrilled in her ears. This way! The Streak took off, flapping awkwardly. The two dove into a labyrinth of cold meal hallways, running past lab coats. Her new companion stopped a militant barricade with a psionic blast. Then, through two glass doors, they were out. Cold air filled her lungs, alive with scent and flavor. The sky was dark. She wasn’t sure why. They darted together into the deep forest. Spotlights and howling sirens rose behind them. Turning, she spat flame and set the forest ablaze so that none would follow them.
III.
Pine tree. Very good. She touched the bark, marveling at its roughness. The world had infinite textures, from moss to rock to fuzzy caterpillar. She had spent an hour yesterday trying to touch a cloud. It distracted her. She woke every night, howling at scientists. Sometimes they were there. Often they weren’t. She usually shot blistering flame at them anyway. If they were there, the Streak had no compunction about hurling out a psionic blast. And so they traveled slowly on, into the wild, with the scientists either there or not there. The Streak kept faithful watch. It had no need for sleep—whether a result of an experiment or simply its species, neither of them knew. Most of them time, it nestled into her shoulders. She lifted up a green pine needle. Food? Maybe? The Streak cawed laughter. Suddenly, there was a new noise—a rushing, burbling sound. It triggered a response in her throat. Water, the Streak said slowly. Good? Yes. She ran to it, hurled herself down on the river bank, and drank deeply. It was autumn-crisp, clear and cold. The current kept sloshing against her nose, making her sneeze, but she drank fast anyway. When she was done, she looked down in the river and was startled. You, said the Streak. And me. Her body was dark like the night sky, her wings red like the leaves around them. And she was mottled by silver scars, mementos of where the needles and cups had torn her scales. The Streak peered down, too, then gently groomed her cheek-scales. She smiled crookedly. Out. Yes. “Excuse me.” She snapped up, fireball at the ready. But the Streak sang a few melodious notes, clearly relaxed. The charming dragon was dark like herself, with dark blue markings, and didn’t look like a scientist at all. Out truly was full of wonders. The Spiral spoke again. “It’s just—why are you crying?” She said nothing, but smiled wider. “Well, never mind.” Sapphire tried a smile of her own. “I saw you from the watch-tower. Let’s get you a healer.” The Streak flitted off her shoulder to follow the Spiral. She glanced back, saw scientists writhing in the shadows, then hurriedly faced forward to follow Sapphire to her clan.
Bio by the amazing Caelyn!
Voice |
I.
Test subject: 4041 / Condition: Stable H/R: 52BPM / B/W: normal She opened her eyes, and the world shifted like a prism before her. The two others—just past the chilly glass and thick liquid—were glints of spectacles set in shadows. Her scalp prickled. So did her arms—needles and suction cups nicked into her skin. A voice crackled. She’s doing well, isn’t she? That’s to be expected. There was a dry laugh that faded to a wet cough. She survived, after all. Yes. The first. Four-thousandth forty-first time is the charm. Now those shadows with glints were moving something in front of her. In the dim light, she saw it was a small glass cage with a smaller creature within. Something about it made her lower stomach crawl. She didn’t like it. Or, she felt sorry for it, and left without words to describe the feeling, she turned away like a child from a hated food. Its wings were tied, its beak muzzled. She flexed her own wings and was rewarded with a stab of pain. Easy, the voice crackled. She has to be conscious to start the link? Yes. Well, here goes nothing. Bright lights snapped on. An ominous blue glow grew around the glass box outside. In another instant, the light was on her, and she was screeching into nothing. Waves of shock and agony coursed through her. Memories, too, but not hers. The little beast’s. Being torn away from a dying mother, having horns soldered onto its head, cutting into the cranium, and so forth. She howled silently. The glinting eyes watched her dispassionately until the black descended on to her, a see-sawing curtain, falling.
II.
Can you hear me? This voice didn’t crackle. It came from some point in her own head and vibrated softly there. It was agony to open her eyes. So she didn’t. Can you? Yes. She could make the noises, too. They were successful, then. In their view… The voice trailed off for a moment. Her own head throbbed steadily. I want out. Out? The word tasted strange. She rolled it around in her mouth, and bubbles blew out before her. Unbidden, images of a different world played through her mind. Soft expanses of blue and green, heavenly, warm, velvety. Trees, the voice explained. Sky. As she watched, the world got darker, but there were lights in the sky that didn’t hurt her. She grasped after the thoughts, but the voice was hiding them. Wincing, she opened one eye. The Fallout Streak was peering up at her with intelligent eyes. It cocked its head, and the voice in her mind turned pleading. You are big and strong, you can get both of us out if you try, come, I’ll take you to out. Come with me. 4041 / H/R: 92BPM Please? The Streak’s beak half-opened. A sad, fluting note crackled in her ears. Yes, she thought. She flexed her wings and kept flexing past the pain tearing through her. The glass tube around her began to crack—vitreous liquid spilled onto the floor. Hurry! She flapped and clawed. The tube burst, spilling its contents to the floor. She staggered over a line of jagged glass, then beat on the Streak’s cage until it, too, was free. She tore its wing bindings off with her sharp claws. In her arms, the creature was as soft as the outside. A warning klaxon shrilled in her ears. This way! The Streak took off, flapping awkwardly. The two dove into a labyrinth of cold meal hallways, running past lab coats. Her new companion stopped a militant barricade with a psionic blast. Then, through two glass doors, they were out. Cold air filled her lungs, alive with scent and flavor. The sky was dark. She wasn’t sure why. They darted together into the deep forest. Spotlights and howling sirens rose behind them. Turning, she spat flame and set the forest ablaze so that none would follow them.
III.
Pine tree. Very good. She touched the bark, marveling at its roughness. The world had infinite textures, from moss to rock to fuzzy caterpillar. She had spent an hour yesterday trying to touch a cloud. It distracted her. She woke every night, howling at scientists. Sometimes they were there. Often they weren’t. She usually shot blistering flame at them anyway. If they were there, the Streak had no compunction about hurling out a psionic blast. And so they traveled slowly on, into the wild, with the scientists either there or not there. The Streak kept faithful watch. It had no need for sleep—whether a result of an experiment or simply its species, neither of them knew. Most of them time, it nestled into her shoulders. She lifted up a green pine needle. Food? Maybe? The Streak cawed laughter. Suddenly, there was a new noise—a rushing, burbling sound. It triggered a response in her throat. Water, the Streak said slowly. Good? Yes. She ran to it, hurled herself down on the river bank, and drank deeply. It was autumn-crisp, clear and cold. The current kept sloshing against her nose, making her sneeze, but she drank fast anyway. When she was done, she looked down in the river and was startled. You, said the Streak. And me. Her body was dark like the night sky, her wings red like the leaves around them. And she was mottled by silver scars, mementos of where the needles and cups had torn her scales. The Streak peered down, too, then gently groomed her cheek-scales. She smiled crookedly. Out. Yes. “Excuse me.” She snapped up, fireball at the ready. But the Streak sang a few melodious notes, clearly relaxed. The charming dragon was dark like herself, with dark blue markings, and didn’t look like a scientist at all. Out truly was full of wonders. The Spiral spoke again. “It’s just—why are you crying?” She said nothing, but smiled wider. “Well, never mind.” Sapphire tried a smile of her own. “I saw you from the watch-tower. Let’s get you a healer.” The Streak flitted off her shoulder to follow the Spiral. She glanced back, saw scientists writhing in the shadows, then hurriedly faced forward to follow Sapphire to her clan.
Bio by the amazing Caelyn!
haunted experiment
Voice |
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