Rada
(#25693620)
Level 10 Coatl
Whisper
Orbiting Spirit
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Female Coatl
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
7.38 m
Wingspan
8.8 m
Weight
993.95 kg
Genetics
Midnight
Crystal
Crystal
Midnight
Facet
Facet
Indigo
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Coatl
EXP: 149 / 27676
STR
6
AGI
7
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
5
MND
6
Lineage
Biography
   
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Rada the Soundless, they call her. Rada the Silent, Rada the Mute, she repeats to herself inside her head, the only place where her words can make themselves heard. She has been mute for as long as she can remember, and she can not remember as long as she knows she should. Nonetheless, she likes words, perhaps more than any dragon who can't speak should. She lines them up in her head, adds to them and takes away, mixes them around, makes them say whatever she likes. It's nice. It makes her feel perfectly in control of something, balances the dizzy, sick to her stomach feeling she sometimes gets when her world turns upside down at the sight of something that should be mundane, and visions she doesn't call or want plague her. She's amnesiac too, but they don't call her that. Too many syllables she supposes, two more than soundless, and it doesn't sound nearly as nice. She can't remember anything much about her past. She has vague, delirious memories of arriving in the Ashfall Waste, her hunger drowned out by desperate, oppressive thirst and nothing to quench it in the burning landscape. She remembers a burning gaze on her, four bright eyes, too bright and too hot, of trying to beg their owner to blink and spare her, but no sound comes from her throat. Jeanne later told her that she had come back to the lair like a sleepwalker, stumbling and supported by the smaller but surprisingly strong mirror. She doesn't remember that, only waking in a strange place, having her sore and bloody feet bandaged, her aching wings rubbed with a soothing salve. She had been pushing herself to move far and fast, as though she was running from something. They gently propped her up with pillows and held drinks to her, cool water and soothing teas, but no matter how much she drank, she still could not bring anything more than a soft, raspy hiss from her throat. When the mirror who had rescued her looked at her healer, an orange and white guardian wearing a strange gauntlet, she shook her head sadly. “She was badly hurt when you brought her in. It may be that her throat is too badly scarred, but mental trauma can also make a dragon mute. It's nothing that I can heal.” When they put paper and ink down before her, she was worried that she wouldn't remember that either, but her body did even if her mind didn't, dipping a claw delicately into the ink and writing in a neat script: “My name is Rada.” They both leaned over to read it, before the mirror spoke again. “Rada, my name is Jeanne. You are welcome here, but my territory is a closed one. I brought you in because you were hurt and dying, but now you need to make a decision. Those who stay here are bound to our clan's duty, and bound to keep our secrecy, and we don't let them leave. You were all but unconscious when you came in, so if you want, we can give you something to make you sleep again, and we'll take you to one of our allied clans. They'll tend your wounds until you heal, and you'll be free to go. But if you choose to stay here, once you leave this room and see our lair, you can't go back.” This place was secret, closed off. Safe. She could be safe here, something she sought desperately without knowing why. She dipped a claw into the ink again, her neat script marred by shaking and the urgency with which she wrote. “I want to stay here. I do not want to go back, ever.” She still does not remember her past. She sometimes thinks she doesn't want to. When she tries to think too hard about it, she gets an awful sense of urgency, a desperate need to run, and her breath comes short, and her head aches, and she spends hours curled in a tight ball in her room, terrified of something she can't articulate. Sometimes she will see something, or hear some phrase spoken, that brings to mind visions, desperate, confusing, terrifying visions. Eggs dashed upon stone, wings torn, a set of scales tipped over and their burden scattered, a dragon who splits himself in two, who bleeds darkness too painfully bright to look at, a tower crumbling into the ocean, a scared voice whispering into her ear “be quiet, love, be quiet, BE QUIET.” Sometimes she dreams, and those are even worse, and she awakes with her old wounds as painful as though they were new, her throat tensed as though to scream, but no sound comes out. The others of her new clan say that these may be hints to her past, but she does not want them to be her past. She is Rada the Soundless now, Rada the scribe who has the neatest script in the lair, Rada the careful who never leaves a door unlocked or a message undelivered, Rada the dragon with no past, only the present. ~by Mirrorstone |
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This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
Feed this dragon Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Rada to the service of the Flamecaller 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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