Jasmine

"What is your name?" The old snapper asked, his rough voice soft.

"Whisper," she answered reluctantly, peering around.

The cave she was presented with was dark, dimly lit by a small lantern and the ember pocketmouse skittering around, presumably in search of some cheese or...whatever it was those things ate. Truth be told, she'd never really stopped to think about what the animals ate. Forage for yourself, Whisper, she was told, worry not about what the others need. Growing up, she never thought much of it, but now, she realized, it was selfish. Horribly selfish, and that would be her father's downfall before he knew it.

As horrible as it sounded, she didn't miss him that much. The old guardian was always more concerned about himself than anyone else, and seemingly always muttering to himself something Whisper was far too young to understand. She'd catch a name now and then, but when she asked about it, she was told to stay quiet and stop asking so many questions.

"And why are you here?" The older dragon before her asked, his large feet making noises that echoed around the dark cave as he waddled between desks. He hadn't given his name yet - in her honest opinion, rather rude - but he seemed busy, so perhaps it was excusable. From what the guardian could see, on his back were small packages of...things. Whatever they were, they were wrapped carefully in large leaves, and every now and then the elderly snapper would drop some onto a desk.

"...I want to help other dragons," she started slowly, picking and choosing her words as she went. "And nature..like the Gladekeeper..." In her mind, it sounded fine, but out loud, it made her want to dig a hole and never come out. Nobody could be like the Gladekeeper, that was ridiculous. And the old snapper was thinking the same thing.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," his old voice croaked as he shook his head, a low chuckle bubbling up from his chest the way the Tidelord might emerge from the water. Whisper sighed and turned to leave.

"Thank you anywa--"

"I wasn't done," he interrupted, looking rather offended- though a small smile was hidden in the dark cave.

He had her wait, and as she lay on the cold stone floor she thought. What was she waiting for? He wouldn't say. Eventually, a swarm of fae flew in, struggling to carry something just a little too heavy for only one of the small dragons. The weak old dragon carried it on his back to one of his desks, slowly opening it with his teeth as he waved the swarm off.

"I'll say, I'd forget my own head if it wasn't for those little buggers!" He laughed. It was a hearty laugh, one from the heart. Whisper laughed along, even if she was uncomfortable being in this lair while he did who-knows-what. The room was silent for a long few moments, filled if only by the sound of the old man working a mortar and pestle, what sounded like leaves being torn, and liquid being poured before a cauldron started to bubble and boil over. He made a displeased noise and spooned some of the mixture into a wooden bowl, setting it down in front of her. He insisted she eat.

It goes without saying that she was hesitant. This old snapper was a stranger who could very well be trying to trick her. It took a full five minutes of assurance before she reluctantly dipped her head down and drank the strange purple liquid slowly, chewing on chunks of...berries? Was it just a meal? If it was, it was strange.

It tasted bitter for a moment, then sweet with a hint of tartness to it, like a raspberry. She would've very well assumed it was some kind of raspberry dish if it hadn't had the aftertaste of crayfish. She coughed and stuck her tongue out, shaking her head quickly. But before she had a chance to say anything, a tingling, numbing sensation came over her. She did her best to fight it, falling onto her side and taking deep breaths to keep from panicking. If she had just fought a little longer, she was sure she'd have gotten away. Instead, she fell unconscious.

...

"Eh?" An old voice croaked. "Well, that doesn't usually happen."

As she opened her eyes, she was met with the snapper from before. Finding herself still alive and well, she stood up slowly. The room around her was still dim, but under her claws was... Grass?

"Congratulations," the old snapper started, waddling over to her as the same swarm of fae helped her back up - or rather, tried to. "Jasmine."

"My name's not..."

"Nonsense!" He laughed, shaking his head and returning to cleaning his cauldron. "You wanted to be like the Gladekeeper," he pointed out, grunting as he stretched to reach the bottom. "You can't do that with a name like Whisper!"

Whisper, involuntarily given the new name Jasmine, peered around some, gasping softly when she saw her wings. They'd taken on a monarch pattern, and as she gave them a ruffle, small petals of what seemed to be roses drifted gently down to the floor.

"Of course, I couldn't make you the second Gladekeeper, that'd be ridiculous, but isn't this the next best thing? Why, that grass had been dead since I was a hatchling!" He howled. Jasmine let out a breath, slowly touching her claw to another patch of dead grass. It slowly tinted back to its natural, vibrant green colour and stood upright. A small, budding flower even started to rise up. She touched a claw to it gently and watched it bloom, its soft ivory petals spreading for all to see.

"...Jasmine.." She whispered.