GrimEchoes » Lair » Virga

Virga

(#19005604)

The Old Warmother | Former COO | she/her

Familiar

Electric Nymph

Energy: 40/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

10.64 m

Wingspan

3.62 m

Weight

1883.85 kg

Genetics

Hatchday

Dec 06, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Sandsurge

Eye Type

Lightning
Common

Level 25 Sandsurge

Max Level

STR

133

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

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VIRGA
THE OLD WARMOTHER
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The former commander of a glorious legion of cybernetic warriors, now no more than a fleeting memory of a woman. When a vicious conflict broke out between the flights of Lightning and Plague, Virga was first to lead the loyal troops she had taken in underneath her wings into the heart of a disaster that still scars the minds of all those who bore witness to it. She was felled by an unnatural, twisted strain of engineered disease, stripping away the layers of her powerful, nurturing form until only the earth remembered who she was.

Her husband, too, remembered―but the man that pulled her back from the brink was no longer her husband, and she should be dead and buried.

SHORT STORY
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You are not the man that I married.

When I first saw you at the Goldensparc Technology Expo all those years ago, so young and yet so experienced; handsome and charismatic and magnetic, it was as though a thousand flowers had bloomed in my stomach all at once. A military woman was I, and so rarely did I fall for another man who could ever hope to have my heart all to himself―but I did for you, and steal my heart you did. I remember you were the talk of the convention, but it was for wildly different reasons: everyone wanted to know about Genesis-01. Everyone who approached you asked the same thing. I was there because I wanted to know about you. By the time the convention had ended, I knew the most about you of anyone on the show floor. I even knew your phone number.

We talked about the future of Sornieth: where we'd like to see the world in ten, twenty, thirty years’ time. Would modern cybernetics catch on? How long would they last, and would they aid in modern medicine? In accessibility? In cultivating personal identity? Neither of us were sure. It was a long, philosophical discussion―but in the end, I was sure that I had fallen head over heels for you.

I watched Excelsius grow by your side. I saw you―and it, and us―thrive in the wonderful future we’d created through what I can only imagine was love. It was love for your home, love for the future, and love for eachother that transformed Goldensparc into a celebration of life itself. No more sorrow, no more sickness, no more death. That was the power of cybernetics, so you said. That was the power of progress.
I’d seen the signs, though. You still had love for your home, love for the future, but no love for me. You said “hello”, “goodbye”, but never “I love you”. I ended up having to convince myself that you weren’t a stranger who would spend inordinate amounts of time in our home. I wished you would come back. The scariest thought I ever had was that if you’d fallen out of love with me, then I’d already accepted it. We still wore our wedding rings every day and never took them off. How was I supposed to reconcile those feelings with myself?

We fought. Not even about our marriage―we’d both quietly accepted that whatever feelings we’d still had for each other were strictly business; perhaps, in a way, that was still love―but about you. About Excelsius. About the future. You’d grown distant. Hyperfocused on some unknown task, obsessed with concepts I could scarcely comprehend. I told you that you were chasing soulless endeavors, that you were abandoning your conscience. You told me this change was necessary, that the world needed to keep moving. I tried to see your point of view, but there was always something standing between you and I.

I realized what it was the day before the world ended. The children of the plague are a sordid kind, but their philosophies ring true: live strong, die with dignity. They’re proud to struggle, because their struggle makes them truly alive. When I saw that black spire cutting through the horizon like some strange, alien monolith that had materialized from thin air with nary a rhyme nor reason, and I saw the apprehension on the people’s faces and the vitriol they had for the engineers and for me as I passed by construction, directing their insults not towards the Lightning flight, but towards Excelsius―I recognized that the man behind this project was not Cyrus. It was an idea that had taken his form and pretended that it was him, that this is who it had always been.

As I assessed my troops later that night, utterly unprepared for the catastrophe that would befall the Plaguelands only three hours later, I realized that I couldn’t remember when this change had happened. It was as if this is how it had always been.

I could see it in Flavia’s eyes, too. The dear girl was dedicated to the cause, but she knew she was about to be complicit in something unspeakable that she would regret for the rest of her life. I can only hope that she doesn’t cast the blame on herself.

The last thing I remembered was a great white light engulfing the atmosphere before I woke up in a hospital bed, scales sloughing off by the dozen and my eyelids glued shut. I couldn’t even open them to see if it was you standing above the bed with me. For twenty-eight days I festered in agony, and then I passed away.

And then I woke up.

I woke up, alive and cognizant, but not me. This is not my body, and the knowledge I have now of everything you have done should not be mine to possess, and you are not the man that I married.

MISC. NOTES
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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Virga to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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