Abriell

Despite having been born Lightning, he really REALLY gravitates towards the Arcanist. He wishes his lightning powers would just go away, so that he could deal with brews and magics without blowing them up. Eventually he will learn to use them properly, but until then he studies whatever his arcane lairmates have to teach him about their stuff, although not many of them are proficient, so his tutoring's a little lacking.

Abriell stared longingly at the boiling pot in front of him. This brew was bound to go as wrong as every other one he'd ever made. He'd get so excited that he'd overcook it with the electricity which shot from his nostrils, or perhaps he'd go and turn another butterfly into some kind of a heaping mess.
He sighed. Nothing would ever go right. Maybe he just wasn't cut out for alchemy. The Arcanist had rejected him because of his lightning heritage or something, while his time-travelling brother frolicked around in an Arcane clan?!? It just wasn't fair!
He breathed to clam his thundering heart. Looking upwards, his crystal eyes wandered along the concourses of shelves filled with who knows what and various bric-a-brac, each component filling him with some other memory of 'Alchemy Gone Wrong". He just couldn't take it. He hissed at himself, what was he thinking? He couldn't be an alchemist! It was just a child's fantasy, he never could be.
His tail flicked restlessly around the cauldrons edges. This brew was special. It was the new recipe, and Baldwin had made it just for him. All he had to do as watch it. But something would still go wrong. His feathers bristled and nostrils flared. Something always goes wrong. His eyes shot daggers at the bubbling surface. It always always always ALWAYS -

---

Little did the young skydancer know that it would be his temper that got him. The sparks flying from his eyes and nostrils lit the wood under the cauldron and left growing, charred patches on it's surface. His eyes shed tears of plasma. Maybe the circumstances were pure happenchance. Maybe this is what the Arcanist was planning all along. Maybe, well, who can say, but maybe it was fate.

---

The young alchemist's apprentice stumbled out from behind the brew, heaving breaths and covered in the concoction. It stung and sunk into his scales.
Baldwin? Where was...
He doubled over in pain as something stabbed at his innards. He scratched desperately at the surface of his blotched scales as they morphed into a heavy armour. The golden bangles in his long wings tore at them, and chimed as they hit the floor. His fingers bulged. They were useless in stopping his fall. His tormented screech shattered the chamber as he crumpled, his wings shrinking and feathers shedding. He couldn't hear anything but a disgusting, pulsing, gurgle. Through blurred vision, the once skydancer watched as a pale, green figure slithered over to him in panic.

Silence.

---

He awoke the next morning. rolling over in a pile of blankets and books which his teacher had stacked for him the night before. He blinked a few times, and, although still blurry, he could see he was in Bladwin's chambers. The Bogsneak was still sleeping heartily on his own blanket pile. Abriell smirked a little. He was a funny old dragon...
He stumbled on his new legs. Looked down, he saw his hefty feet and thick tail, swishing powerfully behind him. He took a step and almost missed the floor. 'These legs are a lot shorter than they used to be', he contemplated his condition, 'but let's see if this did anything actually useful...'.
Lolloping ungracefully towards the door, the youth stole a glace behind him. Bladwin was still sleeping peacefully. Good. Taking a scrap of paper, he flared his nostrils. Nothing happened. Yes, yes...! Than a single spark landed on the page. He blinked. There was a familiar tingle which ran up his spine, and traced paths of electricity over his face. They mingled with trails of his fresh plasma tears, pooling in the cracks in the old, tiled floor. His shoulders shaking, he knew.
Not even this can get rid of this stupid lightning. Nothing. At least I'm as hopeless on the outside as I always was on the inside now. Hah.

---

After the incident, Abriell vanished. Baldwin only saw him from time to time, and his clan never saw him again, save for a glimpse from the hunting parties.
His father, Marko, was devastated. It was the last thing he wanted: for his offspring to have to lead a life like he had - alone. Every time he'd walk near the border, he'd just stand there. Hoping, waiting, for his child to return.