Kindred

What use has a Skydancer for a kingdom with a forbidden sky? Where squall and stormclouds reign, what place have they?

For Kindred, her place is by the side of LaCroix, her sword ever at the ready. She works with an unparalleled grace that can only be admired from a distance by her clanmates, with a mix of admiration and disgruntlement: Kindred does not enjoy good standing with most of her peers. Between her and Naxos, relations are outright hostile. Between Kindred and anyone besides LaCroix, no relation really exists to speak of.

Abandoned by her parents to wander the Southern Icefield, the fledgling Kindred flew north, taking on odd jobs and mercenary work, before a dragon patrolling her clan's perimeter informed her that flying here, over storm-charred fields, was forbidden. As one of LaCroix's “rescues”, a bond was instantly formed—one of respect, admiration, and absolute devotion.

Their rituals are ever the same each time. LaCroix, calling Kindred into her chambers: “My kin,” she would purr. “All mine.”

When Kindred would not react, stoic as always, LaCroix's lips would curl into her characteristic snarl, warped and delighted.

“That is what I love about my Kindred,” she would say. “Perfectly compliant. No complicated feelings. Always a good girl.”

And a good girl Kindred is. A born fighter, Kindred long ago proved her worth as a chief officer of her clan before swearing her sword to LaCroix, and her experience is evident in every one of her motions. She will dispatch a foe thrice her size with cold, unblinking efficiency—her wit and expertise can outmatch most any brute strength. Moreover, her extraordinary devotion brings her work into needlepoint focus: during battle, nothing but Kindred and the enemy exists, and nothing else matters until the enemy is eliminated. Her common goals with dragons such as Bahamut and Isaac have borne a respectful, working relationship—though not respectful enough that Kindred wouldn't cut them down where they stand, should the need ever arise.

One might wonder what drives Kindred to fight as she does in LaCroix's name. What protective urge breaks her blank serenity whenever Naxos crosses her path, addressing the kingsguard with an almost imperceptible, sneering curl of her lips: “Make way for the royal toady, here to lick the queen's feet where she stands.”

Perhaps it's that Kindred values strength above all else, and LaCroix's aspirations, driven by a primal lust for power, attracted her in ways no offer of money or affection ever could. It's no secret that Kindred cares little for Ceinwen's model of protection and stewardship for hatchlings in need: having been raised without such love or comforts, Kindred views this as coddling at best, and sentimental wastage of the clan's resources at worst. Her clanmates, so graceful and cultured and richly adorned in silks, had grown soft—foolish—weak. It seems to Kindred that LaCroix is the only one who understands this; that LaCroix is the only one who understands her. Together, they would topple the softhearted queen and free the skies. “Conquer the lands,” as LaCroix would say. “Conquer the storms.”

made by the lovely msnoodles