Lyrrim
(#15829672)
Level 1 Skydancer
Familiar
Ensorcelled Volume
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 46/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Skydancer
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.64 m
Wingspan
7.01 m
Weight
710.26 kg
Genetics
White
Iridescent
Iridescent
White
Shimmer
Shimmer
White
Gembond
Gembond
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
Lyrrim
~The Captive Writer~
~The Captive Writer~
"Welcome to your new home, the Tangled Wood..."
Day 2
Everything is dark. I am captive. I will live out my days surrounded by monsters, never again knowing the light on my wings. They stare at me, envying my appearance, but with these looks, I cannot possibly hope to escape.
Forced to share a small dark cave with two others. One was born here and spends his time being miserable, pretending we don't exist, and trying to make himself as small as possible. I have not yet seen him eat. Perhaps he'll waste away. One less to deal with.
Of course, that would leave me stuck with Plague. Apparently he was brought here at the same time I was, and while I understand what made them want me... Well. The less said about him the better. He took the grubs Shadow didn't touch and ripped them apart and rolled around in the mess. That's really all you need to know.
They'll probably eat me.
Day 8
Still surrounded by darkness. The clan leader made me stand in front of him for half an hour before his mate drew his attention instead. That other Guardian, somehow the creepier one of the two, kept staring at me when I went into the library, so I'm never going in there again. Plague continues to be the most disgusting. Finally saw Shadow eat more than a few leaves.
Day 14
Plague snapped. I honestly thought he was going to kill me. Horobe protected me. Not that he did it for me, but I appreciated it nonetheless. He's just as miserable here as I am. Perhaps this is a sign that I have been here too long and am losing my standards, but I have occasionally felt that if there was anyone here who could actually benefit from culture, it would be him. Today's events strengthened that impression. Perhaps I should convince him to help me escape.
His fur is softer than you would think.
Day 17
Horobe surprised me today by asking me to help him with Plague. He almost never does anything on his own. Clearly I am a good influence on him, but... well. Apparently I don't have to do much.
He's very odd. I'm not entirely sure he realizes I consider him a friend. Perhaps it is normal for Shadows to sleep curled around each other without holding any particular feeling for the other.
Day 19
Barbaric actions are sometimes required when dealing with barbaric dragons. Cayrno has been tamed, for now, and all it took was a few sharp nips to the joints of his wings while Horobe held him down. I wouldn't quite call him happy, but he has been acting bizarrely upbeat ever since. It is having a good effect on us, but if the true motives behind his change involve wanting to sleep beside us, he'll have to take a bath first. More like fifty baths, actually.
Horobe has been eating more. I'm pleased.
Day 25
As this journal has made abundantly clear time and time again, shadows are all idiots. Our dear Horobe is no exception, despite the fact that he is the only half decent one I've ever encountered, for when I told him as much, he became even quieter than usual. After half an hour of brooding on my words, he asked me if I had found a place in this clan. The poor thing wears his complexes on his wings, and my eyes are finally accustomed to the dark. But I only told him the truth. “If I have a place, it is with you.” I've never felt him that happy before.
He doesn't seem to know how to give affection, though he always does so very naturally, in my opinion. He doesn't realize what he's doing, clearly, and therefore cannot purposefully reproduce his own actions. He will learn. I will teach him.
On the subject of affection – Cayrno is admittedly growing on me, much like the suspicious fungus he has been eagerly cultivating outside our lair. I welcome him to share in what happiness we can find, but if he insists on squeezing in between us during an important moment again, I'll nip his wings.
Day 40
I imagine the Southern Icefields to be a clean, bright kind of cold, a healthy cold, crisp and brisk and all those good words. Tanglewood cold, like most Tanglewood things, is dark and dirty. It sinks into my wings and bones and coats them with a thick layer of gray slush. Horobe does not understand the depths of my suffering. If he did, he would not merely sleep beside me, but pull me close and wrap me in his wings. But then surely his skinny body has enough trouble maintaining its own warmth without contributing to mine as well.
Perhaps I will swallow my pride and ask Cayrno to join us. He seems to run at a much higher temperature than the rest of us anyway.
Day 44
Cayrno has taken to wearing a thick red coat around, which is notable only because he has been throwing it over me at night. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing such a thing, but it is pleasantly warm, and greatly supplements the warmth I receive from him and Horobe. Sometimes I think he is more clever than he appears, not that he would have survived in that unholy wasteland he comes from for long if he were a complete idiot. And he is kind in his own way. Very well. I will allow him to take up a small residence in my heart.
Horobe has found some pearls and arranged with the clan jeweler to have them made into accessories. He told me their glowing luster reminded him of me. If Cayrno hadn't managed to sneak his way in at the last minute, I would have no choice but to give my heart over to him entirely.
Day 60
New arrivals! None of them Shadows either. The lair has been expanded and now we are six. I now understand some of Horobe's feelings when we arrived. Though it may be dirty and small and cramped and cold and ugly, it is our home, and intruders are not wanted. Naturally, I find myself growing excessively protective of Horobe, but to a certain extent I feel the same about Cayrno. My motives may be misunderstood, but I will speak frankly here, at least. He may be violent and disgusting and crude, but he is my brother now, and others do not have the right to speak ill of him until they have lived with him long enough to know the true extent of it.
None of my own kind, of course. But I have hopes that these new arrivals will integrate with our little family much more easily than we three did with each other.
Day 67
It is apparent that one field of research on the barbaric Shadowkin is desperately lacking in data: what are their mating rituals? What do they do to ensure that one pair recognizes each other and is recognized in the eyes of the clan as being permanently joined? Surely they have some sort of process. I will share my findings as I make them.
Day 68
I asked the leader's mate about their rituals, and he said there weren't any that he was aware of. While I was aware that they favored loose encounters to staying in matched pairs, the extent to which this was taken surprised me. He told me that the leader merely “claimed” him, as I was claimed that horrible night, and as it was the leader, no one was inclined to argue.
Day 70
It appears that there is a tradition of violence to settle disputes over mating. I despise the very thought of it. Would I be able to fight, if I had to? Based on my early encounters with Cayrno, I rather doubt it.
Day 75
I am in the bad habit of not taking steps to relieve my own worries, instead letting them grow inside. This is what led to our early conflicts. Yet it is natural not to be able to speak one's mind when your own knowledge is lacking and any attempts seem likely to end in failure.
But nonetheless, he confronted me about my emotional state, and we were able to talk things out at our own pace. He seems quite sure that I will not have to fight anyone over him. He is equally adamant that he will fight anyone for my sake. That was deeply reassuring, though it will not be necessary. I will ensure that no one else think they have even the slightest right to “claim” me.
Day 90
Our flock grows and grows. Even I cannot remain cold when surrounded by the warmth of a dozen sleeping bodies. Yet this warmth is in its own way uncomfortable. I find myself missing the days back before we were many, before we were even three, when I was alone and knew everyone here to be an enemy. It is unreasonable for me to feel this way, I know this. But being miserable is easy, in many ways. You are constantly reminded that things are bad and can only get worse. Happiness is something that cannot last, but its very nature tricks you into believing that it will continue forever, always in the same way.
And I do not want to believe I am happy. I was born as a symbol of shining light, so how could I ever be happy here in this murky darkness? How can I ever accept this as a home and not a prison? How can the others, creatures of fire, wind, water, and nature, acclimate so easily? I do not want to live here, and yet in many ways it is the only home I have ever known.
Perhaps I belong here. Perhaps I don't belong anywhere else. The light in me is so dim, so fraudulent that only a Shadow creature saw any appeal in it.
To be continued.
Day 2
Everything is dark. I am captive. I will live out my days surrounded by monsters, never again knowing the light on my wings. They stare at me, envying my appearance, but with these looks, I cannot possibly hope to escape.
Forced to share a small dark cave with two others. One was born here and spends his time being miserable, pretending we don't exist, and trying to make himself as small as possible. I have not yet seen him eat. Perhaps he'll waste away. One less to deal with.
Of course, that would leave me stuck with Plague. Apparently he was brought here at the same time I was, and while I understand what made them want me... Well. The less said about him the better. He took the grubs Shadow didn't touch and ripped them apart and rolled around in the mess. That's really all you need to know.
They'll probably eat me.
Day 8
Still surrounded by darkness. The clan leader made me stand in front of him for half an hour before his mate drew his attention instead. That other Guardian, somehow the creepier one of the two, kept staring at me when I went into the library, so I'm never going in there again. Plague continues to be the most disgusting. Finally saw Shadow eat more than a few leaves.
Day 14
Plague snapped. I honestly thought he was going to kill me. Horobe protected me. Not that he did it for me, but I appreciated it nonetheless. He's just as miserable here as I am. Perhaps this is a sign that I have been here too long and am losing my standards, but I have occasionally felt that if there was anyone here who could actually benefit from culture, it would be him. Today's events strengthened that impression. Perhaps I should convince him to help me escape.
His fur is softer than you would think.
Day 17
Horobe surprised me today by asking me to help him with Plague. He almost never does anything on his own. Clearly I am a good influence on him, but... well. Apparently I don't have to do much.
He's very odd. I'm not entirely sure he realizes I consider him a friend. Perhaps it is normal for Shadows to sleep curled around each other without holding any particular feeling for the other.
Day 19
Barbaric actions are sometimes required when dealing with barbaric dragons. Cayrno has been tamed, for now, and all it took was a few sharp nips to the joints of his wings while Horobe held him down. I wouldn't quite call him happy, but he has been acting bizarrely upbeat ever since. It is having a good effect on us, but if the true motives behind his change involve wanting to sleep beside us, he'll have to take a bath first. More like fifty baths, actually.
Horobe has been eating more. I'm pleased.
Day 25
As this journal has made abundantly clear time and time again, shadows are all idiots. Our dear Horobe is no exception, despite the fact that he is the only half decent one I've ever encountered, for when I told him as much, he became even quieter than usual. After half an hour of brooding on my words, he asked me if I had found a place in this clan. The poor thing wears his complexes on his wings, and my eyes are finally accustomed to the dark. But I only told him the truth. “If I have a place, it is with you.” I've never felt him that happy before.
He doesn't seem to know how to give affection, though he always does so very naturally, in my opinion. He doesn't realize what he's doing, clearly, and therefore cannot purposefully reproduce his own actions. He will learn. I will teach him.
On the subject of affection – Cayrno is admittedly growing on me, much like the suspicious fungus he has been eagerly cultivating outside our lair. I welcome him to share in what happiness we can find, but if he insists on squeezing in between us during an important moment again, I'll nip his wings.
Day 40
I imagine the Southern Icefields to be a clean, bright kind of cold, a healthy cold, crisp and brisk and all those good words. Tanglewood cold, like most Tanglewood things, is dark and dirty. It sinks into my wings and bones and coats them with a thick layer of gray slush. Horobe does not understand the depths of my suffering. If he did, he would not merely sleep beside me, but pull me close and wrap me in his wings. But then surely his skinny body has enough trouble maintaining its own warmth without contributing to mine as well.
Perhaps I will swallow my pride and ask Cayrno to join us. He seems to run at a much higher temperature than the rest of us anyway.
Day 44
Cayrno has taken to wearing a thick red coat around, which is notable only because he has been throwing it over me at night. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing such a thing, but it is pleasantly warm, and greatly supplements the warmth I receive from him and Horobe. Sometimes I think he is more clever than he appears, not that he would have survived in that unholy wasteland he comes from for long if he were a complete idiot. And he is kind in his own way. Very well. I will allow him to take up a small residence in my heart.
Horobe has found some pearls and arranged with the clan jeweler to have them made into accessories. He told me their glowing luster reminded him of me. If Cayrno hadn't managed to sneak his way in at the last minute, I would have no choice but to give my heart over to him entirely.
Day 60
New arrivals! None of them Shadows either. The lair has been expanded and now we are six. I now understand some of Horobe's feelings when we arrived. Though it may be dirty and small and cramped and cold and ugly, it is our home, and intruders are not wanted. Naturally, I find myself growing excessively protective of Horobe, but to a certain extent I feel the same about Cayrno. My motives may be misunderstood, but I will speak frankly here, at least. He may be violent and disgusting and crude, but he is my brother now, and others do not have the right to speak ill of him until they have lived with him long enough to know the true extent of it.
None of my own kind, of course. But I have hopes that these new arrivals will integrate with our little family much more easily than we three did with each other.
Day 67
It is apparent that one field of research on the barbaric Shadowkin is desperately lacking in data: what are their mating rituals? What do they do to ensure that one pair recognizes each other and is recognized in the eyes of the clan as being permanently joined? Surely they have some sort of process. I will share my findings as I make them.
Day 68
I asked the leader's mate about their rituals, and he said there weren't any that he was aware of. While I was aware that they favored loose encounters to staying in matched pairs, the extent to which this was taken surprised me. He told me that the leader merely “claimed” him, as I was claimed that horrible night, and as it was the leader, no one was inclined to argue.
Day 70
It appears that there is a tradition of violence to settle disputes over mating. I despise the very thought of it. Would I be able to fight, if I had to? Based on my early encounters with Cayrno, I rather doubt it.
Day 75
I am in the bad habit of not taking steps to relieve my own worries, instead letting them grow inside. This is what led to our early conflicts. Yet it is natural not to be able to speak one's mind when your own knowledge is lacking and any attempts seem likely to end in failure.
But nonetheless, he confronted me about my emotional state, and we were able to talk things out at our own pace. He seems quite sure that I will not have to fight anyone over him. He is equally adamant that he will fight anyone for my sake. That was deeply reassuring, though it will not be necessary. I will ensure that no one else think they have even the slightest right to “claim” me.
Day 90
Our flock grows and grows. Even I cannot remain cold when surrounded by the warmth of a dozen sleeping bodies. Yet this warmth is in its own way uncomfortable. I find myself missing the days back before we were many, before we were even three, when I was alone and knew everyone here to be an enemy. It is unreasonable for me to feel this way, I know this. But being miserable is easy, in many ways. You are constantly reminded that things are bad and can only get worse. Happiness is something that cannot last, but its very nature tricks you into believing that it will continue forever, always in the same way.
And I do not want to believe I am happy. I was born as a symbol of shining light, so how could I ever be happy here in this murky darkness? How can I ever accept this as a home and not a prison? How can the others, creatures of fire, wind, water, and nature, acclimate so easily? I do not want to live here, and yet in many ways it is the only home I have ever known.
Perhaps I belong here. Perhaps I don't belong anywhere else. The light in me is so dim, so fraudulent that only a Shadow creature saw any appeal in it.
To be continued.
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Exalting Lyrrim to the service of the Shadowbinder will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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