Nerween
(#1340132)
Level 25 Coatl
Familiar
Tengu Caller
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Coatl
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
8.05 m
Wingspan
9.61 m
Weight
793.86 kg
Genetics
Banana
Basic
Basic
Midnight
Stripes
Stripes
Green
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Coatl
Max Level
STR
125
AGI
10
DEF
5
QCK
59
INT
5
VIT
14
MND
5
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
   
|
Nerween was born a nephilim, the result of a union between an angel and a mortal woman. However, perhaps such unions were never meant to be, because the offspring of such are always misborn, unfortunate souls whose bodies are misshapen, ravaged by illness, or lacking limbs or organs. Nerween, although he would not come into that name until much later, was “fortunate” enough to be born whole, but very ill and weak, unable to control his own body. He was trapped, as it were, in a prison of his own flesh. Alive and intelligent, but unable to act for himself, he was left at the mercy of his cruel father's experiments. His father, an angel in name only, was neither kind nor paternal, lacking any love or devotion for his son. He didn't even bother to name him, seeing him only as a means to an end rather than a person. Instead, he used him as the subject of his tests and studies. Wanting to understand the nephilim, he had the ideal test subject in his son, one who could neither protest nor fight back. Unable to do anything but lie there and endure the cruel tests, the unnamed child soon grew well acquainted with pain, fear, helpless anger, and hatred. His father gave him the minimum amount of care necessary to keep him alive, and when he saw that his son was close to death, he simply abandoned him in a nearby forest and left him for dead, without a single glance back. However, for the first time in his life, fortune smiled on him, when he was rescued by a young woman named Jeanne. Horrified by the terrible marks of torture he bore, and sympathetic towards someone so hurt and helpless, she promised to care for him, even though he was half dead when she found him. She took care of him, gently nursing him back to health with her constant ministrations, and gave him a name: Nerween, which meant elder brother. An orphan herself, who lost her family quite young, the name carried her hopes that Nerween would be her family now. Nerween, who had never known any sort of familial love, didn't understand this at first. However, with her patient care, he soon grew to harbor a deep regard for her, even though was unable to return it. When Nerween was well enough, Jeanne took him along with her on her travels, seeking out every healer who might have enough skill to cure him. None did, and in desperation she sought other methods. She found a promising spell in an ancient tome, full of old, forbidden spells, dangerously powerful, that would bind their souls together, helping to pull him out of the imprisonment of his unresponsive flesh and into control of it. She tried several times to perform the spell, nearly dying in the process as it drained all her energy and still didn't have enough to complete itself. Until one day, they were caught by surprise in a magical storm, a massive, unpredictable discharge of magical energy that few survive. They would have died, but the spell Jeanne had tried and failed to cast still hung around them, inactive and waiting, and the magical storm proved the catalyst it needed. It absorbed the massive discharge of ambient energy, and came to completion, fusing their souls and binding them together, and giving Nerween control over his body for the first time in his life. Nerween adores his little sister, and his savior, and is incredibly protective of her. Bound together as they are, they can share their feelings and emotions, and if one died, so would the other. He is, for the most part, a playful and cheerful person, with a rampant sweet tooth, who loves to fool around and joke with others. However, should he be angered, that changes. When he gets mad, his appearance and personality change completely. His kindness becomes cruelty and his harmless jokes become capricious malice. He grows claws and fangs, and massive tattered wings, in some places laid bare to the bone, a cruel parody of an angel's wings. Jeanne is the only one who can calm him down enough to bring him out of such a state. However, even in his regular state, he can be a bit unsettling. As a necromancer, he has quite affinity for death. He loves to play with dead, or soon to be dead things, like a cat with a mouse. And should he ever find his father, whom he seeks constantly in their travels, he has quietly vowed that he will return every cruelty, every moment of pain and suffering, to his sire before he kills him. |
Short Stories
1.
That smile, the way those pale lips tilted up just enough to show the teeth, and how the eyes—oh, the eyes—rose at the edges, crinkling up, the perfect golden hues seeming to shine even more. The hair falling over the forehead in a mess of golden locks, messy and unkempt with the early morning. He was even eating lazily, trying to nurse as much as he could out of his porridge at that small and severely understaffed inn on the outskirts of a little village. The gold eyes rose back up and another one of those perfect smiles shinned, causing a certain man's heart to flutter and pump faster.
“You haven't touched your porridge,” Nerween said, wiping his mouth, his golden eyes looking at Lunas's bowl.
“Oh, yeah, right.” Lunas focused back down, feeling his face starting to burn up. He had been caught staring again, but he couldn't help it! Just sometimes, Lunas wonders how he even ended up with such a perfect man as Nerween, with someone that cared about him. It wasn't that long ago, after all...
You could say it was a nice spring morning, with dew clinging to the flowers and grass out in the royal gardens, and for some reason there was a giant hole near the royal graveyard kept close to the castle. Along with a string of curses. And a shovel being thrown out. One could say that it was near impossible to rob a grave at the royal grounds, but only Lunas was up at that time, and the guards were patrolling the gates since the princesses and maidens he was to marry would be arriving later. Every stone was being polished. Ugh. Surely the princesses and maidens could deal with dirty stones under their shoes. Why did everything have to be perfect anyway? Were their families that snotty? The thoughts erupted with another loud and vicious curse.
“Stupid wooden coffins!” the voice hissed after the string of words Lunas would have been chewed out for if he so much as uttered. “Why is there silver mixed in here? That's useless. Can't use that.”
The prince leaned over the edge of the hole and stared down at the criminal. He was a nice looking fellow, golden hair and eyes, smooth skin, but there was something about him that almost made Lunas's skin crawl. Almost.
“There's a latch on the other side you can open it with,” Lunas said. This was the coffin of his great-great-great-great grandfather. No wonder why Lunas didn't really feel anything, the man was long since dead before his mother even met his father. Those golden eyes shot up at Lunas, making the prince's heart throb. That was a strange sensation. What was it? He had never felt it before. Was this what his father described when he would meet 'the one'? Lunas was positive that his father meant that he would feel such a thing in front of one of the fine ladies, but here was this thieving commoner and Lunas felt... strange. He smiled at the man in the hole, that perfect smile being returned, making Lunas's cheeks burn a light pink. How embarrassing!
“Thanks!” The man reached up from the bottom of the hole, his hand outstretched. “I'm Nerween, necromancer! You're not going to call the guards on me, are you, sir?”
Lunas chuckled. “No, not at all. I'm Prince Lunas.” He took the hand and shook it. The skin was so soft, even though it was covered in dirt and grime and maybe a worm. “But call me Lunas, please.”
“Sure thing, Lunas,” Nerween said, staring up at him. “Are the guards still polishing those stones?”
“They will be until six in the morning.” It was only three. “Everyone else is asleep.”
“Shouldn't you be?” Nerween looked for the latch, laughing when he finally found it. He threw the coffin open and clapped his hands together. He looked like a kid in a sweet shop.
“Couldn't sleep.”
“Why?”
“I'm supposed to be meeting my so-called bride today.” Why was Lunas so willing to give this stranger details about his life? That could not be a proper thing to do, especially in front of a soon-to-be wanted criminal. “Why are you robbing my great-great-great-great grandfather's resting place?”
“Well, ya see, I need an arm,” Nerween explained as he tried to break off the skeletal arm, his boot going through the ribcage. “Oops. Anyway, I need a skeleton arm and all the arms of the commoners are weak and fragile. I figured the arm of a royal would do.” The arm was yanked free and he waved it around, giving a salute with the skeletal fingers smacking him in the eye. “Ow.”
Lunas smiled, feeling a chuckle building up in his chest. It was drowned out when Nerween got out of the gave, giving another one of those smiles. The necromancer shoved the arm at Lunas before he got to work filling the hold back in. Lunas held the arm, not even registering that it was once part of a person. A long since dead person, but still... Nerween finished after only a few minutes and patted the dirt down.
“Maybe no one will notice. Anyway, see you later, Lunas. Good luck with the wife,” said Nerween as he took the arm back. He waved it again before darting to the wall, scaling over it. Lunas watched him go, feeling his heart flutter before clenching. Was this the last time he would see the necromancer?
“Is something wrong with it?” Nerween asked as he reached over and took some of the porridge before eating it. “Taste fine. You sure you're alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lunas said. “Just thinking about stuff. So where are we going today?”
“I have a job with some family mourning the loss of their daughter or something. Going to summon the soul back and let them talk to her.”
“Sounds fun.” Lunas smiled. He wanted to say that he loved him, to finally say those three magic words but his throat clogged up and he looked back down at his food, shoving a large amount in his mouth, trying to drown out the nervousness. Lunas knew that Nerween told his sister, Jeanne, that he wasn't interested in men, and it hurt to think about, but just being near the other man was good enough. Nerween smiled and reached over to tug at Lunas's hair.
“Finish your food, we have a job to do.”
~by Dew
2.
It was... unreal, right? It couldn't be happening. He should be happy, that's what best friends did. They were happy for each other. Yet Nerween didn't feel happy getting a hefty reward from the king for protecting his son while the prince wandered. Lunas explained that he wanted to clear his mind, which was why he contracted a necromancer to help protect him, to show him thins unheard of. Nerween did just that, and his sister, Jeanne did it too. Lunas was their friend, and here he was, returning home. Leaving. Not forever, as the king gave Nerween and Jeanne permission to always stop by and see Lunas and his soon-to-be wife. Yet it hurt, to see Lunas dressed back in those fancy garments he had worn the day they met. To see him smiling at everyone in the kingdom as their beloved prince had returned. The smile couldn't have been more false. Lunas's eyes didn't sparkle like they did, his lips didn't even rise far enough to show his teeth, and his jaw didn't move, usually opening just a bit to let out a soft chuckle. His real smile died. It hurt to see it. Nerween had to look away.
The king was kind enough to give Nerween and his sister a large room at a local inn, the fancy feel of the place being too much. Why was the closet so big? Why was it so formal? Nerween felt out of place in his usual clothes, and he took his anger out on the pillow of his bed, his sister watching him from the window seat, having taken her attention off of her book.
“Nerween?” she asked, getting a low growl in return as Nerween face planted into the pillow, his hands lying limp at his side. He had already punched lumps into the pillow, probably ruining it for life. “Hey, cheer up!”
Nerween moved his head so he could look at her. He couldn't cheer up, not while he felt like this. But why? He was so confused about why he was so upset. Shouldn't he be happy that Lunas was going to marry a beautiful young woman? He was going to rule a kingdom! So why was Nerween so upset? He knew that Jeanne felt it too, his confusion and worry. Maybe she had an answer. He sat up slowly and hugged his knees, staring at her.
“Cheer up?” he asked.
“Yeah, cheer up. After all, you have until the weeding tomorrow to tell Lunas how you feel about him.”
There she goes again. Nerween flopped down and took to staring at the ceiling. “I don't feel anything for him.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” she said, looking back down at her book. “The dinner is tonight. You can tell him then. Call off this whole thing.”
“Like I can.”
“You can tell Lunas how you feel and he might call it off.”
“I don't feel anything! I'm just worried about him being happy!” Nerween closed his eyes. “He wasn't smiling. Not like he usually does.” They were silent after that, waiting for the evening to start.
The dinner was fancy, filled with many royal guest and the family of the maiden Lunas was to marry. The king and his queen welcomed everyone, including Nerween and Jeanne. The siblings took their seat close to the royal table, Nerween knowing there were gazes on him. He could feel their eyes burning into the back of his head. Only a few more minutes and everyone would be gawking at the soon-to-be couple. Nerween leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, waiting for Lunas to show up, a small part of him hoping the prince would call everyone off and run off with them again.
“Being stressed isn't going to help.” Jeanne looked at him, worry in her eyes. “You should talk to him.”
“How?” Nerween gestured to the guards by the doors. “Just waltz on in?”
“Nerween-” she wasn't able to finish as the doors opened, Lunas leading in his bride. He looked miserable, but he smiled through it, giving that fake, irrational smile he wore earlier. Nerween felt his heart ache and he felt angry at the woman. She probably didn't know anything about Lunas! She was nothing more than a breeder, meant to give the prince healthy offspring.
“I would like to introduce the future rules of the kingdom!” the king said, Lunas and his fiance taking their seats. Lunas looked at Nerween for a brief moment before he glanced away, avoiding eye contact. That hurt, like a sting in Nerween's heart. Jeanne gripped her brother's hand and offered a smile, the only thing she could have done at that moment. Nerween could feel that she was worried, concerned, for him. It was almost enough to make him feel better but...
Dinner went by slowly, then the after dinner dance began. Lunas danced with his fiance, then with several other woman before the dinner finally ended, and Nerween was intent on finding Lunas. He set out, Jeanne following him as they found the prince, out on the balcony. Nerween tapped his shoulder and opened his mouth to speak, but the finance stepped beside Nerween, giving him a smile.
“Terribly sorry to interrupt,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet, “but I need to talk to my husband.” Nerween almost glared at her, but he forced a smile and nodded.
“Of course, my bad.”
Lunas looked at Nerween, his eyes filled with sadness, before he lead the woman away to talk. Nerween didn't wait, despite what Jeanne said. He couldn't.
“Nerween!”
He skidded to a stop and looked at his sister, avoiding her gaze once their eyes met.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You should have waited, it might have helped.”
“It wouldn't have. That harpy is hanging off of him like a leech.”
Jeanne gave a sigh and shook her head, leading her brother back to the inn. Once they got back, she cornered him, making sure he had no way to escape.
“We need to talk,” she demanded, crossing her arms. “Why are you so adamant on denying your feelings for Lunas?”
“Because I don't care for him that way!”
“We feel each others emotions, Nerween!” she said, shaking her head. “I can tell what you feel, like you can tell what I feel, and I know what you feel for him isn't platonic.”
Nerween looked away. Maybe she was right, maybe he did love Lunas. But he didn't feel anything when they were together. When they brushed against each other there was no feeling of electricity running through him, he wasn't hyper sensitive to Lunas's presence. He looked up at his sister.
“If I love him, then why don't I feel like it?”
“Love isn't the same in real life as it is in stories. You aren't going to get heart eyes and grow weak in the knees. Real love is when your calm near someone. Like how Lunas feels about you. Sure, it may start out as being nervous and stuff, but after a while the love will grow into something else. You two are already there, and maybe you've always been there.” She cupped his face her in hands, smiling at him. “You are so happy near Lunas, Nerween. Why would you want to torture yourself? Why won't you tell him how you feel?”
He began to wander about that too. If Jeanne was right, which she usually was, why did Nerween just blurt it out? “What if he doesn't feel the same?”
The room was crowded, Nerween and Jeanne being seated near the front by the royal family, so they could watch the ceremony up close. Nerween wanted to puke. His heart ached while he watched Lunas waiting at the altar, the prince's back to them. Their eyes only met once, but they hadn't looked at each other since. Time drew on and finally, five minutes before the ceremony was to start, Nerween stood up and grabbed Lunas, dragging the prince away from the altar and to the side. The guards didn't dare to intervene, Nerween giving them the deadliest glare he could muster. Once the two were out of earshot of everyone else, Nerween gripped the prince's shoulders.
“Do you want to marry her?” he asked, his voice hushed, but impatient.
“W-what?”
“Yes or no, do you want to marry her?”
“No, I don't. Why do you care anyway?” Lunas licked his lips and shook his head. “I mean, why the sudden concern?”
“She knows nothing about you.”
“Royal marriages aren't about love. It is about finding someone to help you run the kingdom and produce heirs. That's it.” Lunas looked away. “Speaking of which, I really have to get back to the altar.”
Nerween felt worse when Lunas took his hands and lifted them off of his shoulders, but Nerween grabbed the hands instead, his heart beating faster. Was he nervous? Was this what it felt like?
“I love you!”
Silence stretched across the whole room. Oops, Nerween must have yelled it, as the queen had fainted and the priest looked confused. Lunas's face was bright red, putting a tomato to shame. Jeanne's joy was over-flooding Nerween, but his own worry was taking over. What did he just do? Why was Lunas staring at him? This was a dream, right? It had to be a dream. Lunas suddenly lunged and hugged Nerween tightly, burying his face in the crook of the necromancer's neck, Nerween feeling hot tears wet his skin.
“Now hold on!” the king roared, but Jeanne was up before him and stood in his way. The king took a step back at the blatant disrespect, and Nerween was shocked to hear what his sister had to say.
“Listen up you cake eating jerk,” she yelled, pointing a finger at him, “if you want your son to be happy then you would back off and let him love who he wants to love! He can still rule a kingdom! Bet you haven't even thought of adoption have you? You put a shame to that crown on your head!” She kept going on and on, until Nerween finally discovered what she was doing. Buying time. He grabbed Lunas's hands and pulled him out of the room, and down the hall, outside... hey, they would have to be on the run, right? Might as well get a head start. Jeanne would be fine.
~by Dew
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