Salasiel
(#26021319)
The Model
Familiar
Valorous Cape
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Female Nocturne
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.2 m
Wingspan
7.32 m
Weight
392.43 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Cherub
Cherub
Crimson
Butterfly
Butterfly
Crimson
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 5 Nocturne
EXP: 344 / 5545
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
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♕ S A L A S I E L The Model ╰ ╭  ╰ ╭
Foolish | Bland | Astigmatic ╰ bio template by squidragon adapted by Katalist
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Most expensive child
Six digits paid Worth every penny Spoilt child Working as a model to pay for her silks Most were gifted by her mother Hates poor people Can be racist at times Generally disliked by everyone
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I was born better than you...
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Salasiel likes to think of herself as the prettiest dragon in the Tribe. Sold by her mother, she had no real intention of living in this decrepit place, but soon came to love the markets and the attention she drew. When the Tribe moved to a massive tree near the heart of the Behemoth, she quickly chose one of the highest sleeping locations. It meant flying further than anyone else at night but it meant being the farthest away from the filthy ground. Salasiel copies Sylvari to a T, even copying the way he carries himself, but refuses to lose the beautifully accented way her mother always spoke. Sylvari's drawl is just so... callous for a nocturne of her standing. Bearing from Light, Salasiel is a diurnal dragon, preferring to work whenever she can see what pitiful sun shines through the thick canopy of leaves. She loves the way is settles on her red silks and makes them glitter. Her silks are her most prized possession, even more than the expensive belt of jewels around her waist. She is often seen without a familiar, as she thinks they are smelly and disgusting. Salasiel is not good at making friends, with a lot of the Tribe tending to keep away from her foul attitude. Most dragons see right past the 'holier-than-thou' attitude and refuse to put up with her disrespect. Salasiel doesn't mind the solitude, it gives her more time to preen.
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She was the fourth child out of five, but mummy still loved her dearly. It didn't matter what her older and younger sisters thought, she was clearly the best. Her wings the biggest, her patterns the cleanest. Her older sisters sported silly little triangles, but she was... what did mummy call her? Cherubic. Yes. She was angelic. Everyone wanted her. Which was why she was here, in the noisy, dirty marketplace. Animals screamed and dragons bartered. Mummy had told them to stand tall and look their very best, because potential buyers were interested in such perfect children. She didn't want to be sold, but mummy tied the tag on her collar and told her to behave. She beamed at the number of zeroes on her tag. She was expensive, and she loved it. Dragons came and went, peering curiously at the hatchlings that stood proudly in a line, before looking at the tags and turning away. Mummy was starting to look worried. Was it because of their inferior genes? Was the cherub, a once popular choice, now a turn off? She cleaned her children meticulously, and lifted their chins, and arranged them eldest to youngest. Finally someone bit. A wildclaw and skydancer pair walked up to them, and introduced themself. The scowling wildclaw was Pyre, and the blood on her furs scared the children. Pyre crouched down and sniffed each child, scoffing at the lack of fighting potential in the group. The skydancer was Brianna, and her furs, while blood-free, were dusty and dirty. Both of the dragons looked practical and travel-weary, dragons she didn't want to be associated with. They were hideous. Mummy almost turned them away when they revealed their meagre treasure, but the skydancer insisted, much to the disgust of the wildclaw. Something changed in mummy when she saw the money. She inquired about a payment plan, to which Brianna agreed instantly. The first payment went over, and mummy told them to pick. They looked confused at each other, before Pyre pointed towards the eldest sister. Mummy said no, covering her sister with her wing. She pushed the fourth child out, telling her to follow the nice pair. The wildclaw snarled and turned away, but the skydancer crouched and held our her hands. Resisting the urge to run back to mummy, the little nocturne with the cherubic swirls got up and delicately strode to Brianna, placing her hand in hers. Much to her surprise Brianna laughed, ungracefully picked her up, and slung her onto Pyres back. The leather was well maintained, but it still stunk of death. Still, she kept her chin up for mummy. Her last sight as the pair took off was her sisters laughing at her, mummy turned away. She turned her head proudly away so that mummy didn't see the tears. She was going to hate her new place.
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“What's your name, child?” She'd been taken to the place she was going to spend the rest of her life in. The Tribe, Pyre had called it. Pyre was the leader, as well as two other dragons. Brianna was a nobody. Well, she called herself a minstrel, but the nocturne knew that meant she was a nobody. Mummy always said not to talk to nobodies. At least the Tribe was pretty. There were dragons everywhere, and shiny items in the marketplace. It was dark compared to her ruins back home, but it was pretty. The hatchery where she slept was pretty too, if tacky. The nursery attendants had no other hatchlings to attend to, so she commanded the attention of all of them. The black and white fae was funny, the little noc was pretty, just like her silken husband, but she didn't like the mean guardians. The two would always catch her stealing cookies, or reprimand her for the way she treated the adults. She of course didn't listen. They were all below her anyway. Mummy always said Nature dragons were so close to the dirt because they ate it. Not her though. She glittered. Well, one of the guardians was light, but he'd been here so long he was essentially a dirt eater. “Sweetie? What's your name?” The mother nocturne was talking to her. The fae had given up long ago. Not that she cared of course. at least the nocturne was nice and brought her cookies. She glared at her. “This one doesn't have one. Mummy always said-” “Speaking like a coatl now? Where did you get that from? Well, sweetie, you need to focus more on your hisses if you want to get it right. And what have we said about mummy? Mummy isn't here now, and our rules are different to hers.” “I don't care. I'm not staying here long - I mean- This one isn't staying long. Mummy said this one could go wherever this one wanted to go.” “Oh, sweetie, no.... I wouldn't leave. It's incredibly dangerous out there. That is a terrible idea. Besides, you might end up looking like Pyre and Brianna.” She gasped at the thought of being ugly. Already she dreamed of wearing silks and lying down, being served by the menial workers here. She'd seen other dragons walking around decked in the shimmering silks, she was sure they could afford it. Lightweaver, even that fae had nightsky silks, the most expensive of the lot! Rubbing her nails on a grindstone, she commented, “It isn't that horrid here this one guesses. Tell me, where do the important people sleep?” “Important people? Oh, you mean our leaders and elders? Haha, with us 'common folk', sweetie. No one is more important than anyone here. Now here,” she said, tossing a thick book in front of her. “Allegra want to all the effort of writing up a book of names for the hatchlings. You'll be an adult soon, so you need to choose a name that represents you. Be careful though, if you don't choose quickly, we'll choose one for you. I'm thinking.... Bigmouth..... Sassytail.... heheh, what about 'Miss I-Demand-Sparkling-Water'? I like that one!” Picking up the washing, the nocturne cackled as she waddled out. The girl made an obscene gesture behind her back. So all the adults hated her. She knew it from the start. Mummy always said that was because she was so beautiful. They were jealous. So what if sparkling water was cleaner than the filthy mud water they had here? They didn't understand. Nobody did. She flipped the book over and started rifling through. “....Salasiel. This one's name is Salasiel.” She uttered to no one in particular. The slamming of the book echoed throughout the empty room. And for the second time since her mummy left her, Salasiel felt truly alone.
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Life sucked. Even the gaudy colours of the marketplace wouldn't make her happy. Dragons avoided her, or worse, mocked her. Hatchlings avoided her. Modremoth, the leader, was disgusted by her behaviour, and sent her out of his office when she asked for better servants. Pyre laughed at her in her loud, bellowing way as she limped away. Ember, the chef, stopped giving her cookies, even going to extremes to hide the jar. She had deeply offended Sylvari, the stylist, when she stole his silks 'just to try on'. She couldn't understand why he had gotten so upset over it all, they were just some cheap gossamer silks. But the way he acted, like she'd defiled them, made the whole situation worse. She got a fierce scolding from Cadence, the hatchery manager, about it. How was she to know they meant something to him? They were just silks. Her silks would be much prettier, and softer than his were. His were stained with muddy colours, like he'd worn them to work in! She kicked at the dirt, sending rotten leaves flying. Her claws had pierced one, and she shook it off in disgust. She had also 'apparently' upset the Elder Kafani. How was she to know that moths were her favourite food? The disgusting things made her stomach turn. 'Apparently' Kafani had seen her spit it out in front of her. 'Apparently' Salasiel was supposed to eat the disgusting things. Who was she anyway, just a stupid old Fae who can't even see past her nostrils. Honestly she could see why they all hated her. They were way too sensitive. This is what happens when dragons were given too much free reign. All the pollen in the air had made them think they were better than her. She was the one with bloodlines, she was the one who came from the Ruins. They were simply jealous. She turned the corner to hear singing. He was back. The only one who hadn't hated her from the start. He was nature-born too, but he shone. Lying there by the river, dipping his tail in the water, lay Meymo. He was reading some notes, while the sun danced on his feathers. He was a god. Salasiel hid behind the leaves and hoped her recent moult wasn't that obvious. Normally she shone after moulting, but she was still in the process, making her skin look diseased. He was a fully grown adult, which was obvious given his jewellery and silks. He was intelligent too, studying medicine under the tutorship of Sahara, another dragon she admired. She took a deep breath, and stepped out from the bushes. “Hi, Meymo.” His feathers perked up, as he removed his reading glasses. Looking up, he sighed quietly and sat up. “Hello, Lassie.” “You know I don't like you calling me that.” She sat down next to him and peered at his notes. Covering them with his paw, he rolled them up and placed them in his bag. His heavy accent danced like his tongue as he tried to talk in common language. “Thiss one findss your name difficult to ssay. What iss wrong?” Considering she chose her name to impress him, the statement felt like a slap in the face. Suddenly she hated the name. “Everyone hates me. Nothing I do is right. I keep on trying to be nice and everyone throws it back in my face. Why is everyone here so cruel? Are they always like that?” “I would tell you, but you would refusse to lissten.” “I can listen! I am really good at listening, but no one bothers to let me show them!” “Sstop.” Another slap. Salasiel wasn't sure if she liked Meymo as much now. She stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak. His tail drifted in the river. “Lassie. You know I am a doctor?” She nodded. “Sso you know I get many people coming to me.” Another nod. “Ssahara workss with me too. Sshe can pick up on dragon'ss emotionss. And you are right. A lot of dragonss don't like you.” Salasiel bent her head. There was suspecting it, then there was confirming that dragons hated her. “So what do I do? They didn't even give me a chance. It's like no one told them that I was higher than them, and they disrespect me every day! Not that, like, you disrespect me. I think you are higher than me anyway. No offence.” “No. They gave you a chance, multiple timess. You threw it back at uss. “ Picking up a stick, he began to draw in the mud in front of him. A pyramid soon lay in front of him, with Salasiel up on the top. “I'm ssure you have been told countless timess. In the Ssunbeam Ruinss, there are casstess. Your mother wass from a very high casste. Therefore, you would asssume you are asss well.” Moving to the right, closer to Salasiel, he began to draw again. Ignoring what he was drawing, Salasiel leaned in and smelt his feathers, delighting in the smell. Noticing, Meymo pulled back, showing a circle. Salasiel's name was out of the circle, with a slash through it. Inside the circle was his name, as well as a few other Tribe dragons. “Here, we don't have casstess. We don't have tierss. We have factionss. Groups which do a sspecific tassk. I'm a healer. Sso is Ssahara. Pyre is a warrior. We all do important jobss here. Dragons who do not contribute are seen asss lesser. That iss you, if you are sso inssisstent on casstess.” The news shattered her. Her whole life, she was told she was top, that other dragons bowed to her. Now she was on the bottom? “Is that why they don't like me? Because I'm below them?” Meymo chortled softly, before continuing. His serious gaze drilled burning holes into her vision. She knew she was in trouble. “It'ss becausse of the way you treat the otherss. You tosss them asside, like playthingss. You take thingss that are not yourss. You act like the whole world revolvess around you. It doessn't. Thesse dragons have worked hard for what they have now, and you can't jusst come in here and take it from them. That iss not how it workss. No one wass born into luxury here. Everyone workss. Even you. We've given you the besst treatment possible, but no more. You will be an adult tomorrow, and everyone will start expecting help in return for what you've done to them. You are not a child anymore, Lassie. Sstop acting like a brat, and sstart working. Modremoth threw you out becausse you dissresspected him. Everyone here bought their ssilks, or desserved them. You don't. Sso sstart working. Kafani iss the progenitor. Without her you wouldn't be here. Thiss wouldn't exisst. Ember hid the cookiess because you're getting fat from the luxury, Lassie. You have hurt a lot of people, Lassie, and you have hurt me by coming here and expecting me to ssimper up to you because you have rarer geness. I'm ssorry, Lassie, but you won't get any ssympathy from me. Now clean up your act.” With that he left her, deftly avoiding her attempt to throw herself on him sobbing. She screamed and cried, and soon the fake tears were real, when she realised no one was coming to help her up. Even her crush had destroyed her. She was done. She'd had it. They treated her like a joke, they looked down at her, they thought she was dirt, well she was going to prove them wrong. They wanted her to work? Oh, she would. But not as hard as everyone else. Slowly a plan formed in her head. It would take some groveling and apologising, but there was a way she could have her cake and eat it too. She cleaned herself up, wiped away the tears, and scrubbed herself in the mirror, making sure her fresh new scales shone. Oh, she was beautiful.
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She leant in the doorway of the salon. The sun was beginning to set, and it shone on her. The salon was slowly starting to empty, with Sylvari packing up for the day. He sneered at her and tossed his head away from her. She walked in and picked up a brush. “I believe we got off one the wrong foot, sir.” He tossed his head back around and side-eyed her, leaning on one of the benches. “Darling, there had better be a good reason why you're in here or you'd best be sashaying that little rear of yours out of my shop honey. We dancers don't forget, boo. You ripped my vintage Versachi, and that doesn't get fixed like that, boo.” Snapping his fingers, he twirled away, and stared at one of his mannequins. “Hey! I'm sorry! I obviously didn't realise the importance of those silks-” “Importance? Sweetie, these i'm wearing here? Yeah? these 'silks'? These are, again, Vintage Versachi. This one right here is known as a 'Jagged baroque cut' fine structure from way back when fashion was at it's peak, oh my! And yes, before you ask, your 'mummy' could never be able to afford it. My scarf, though, was hand knitted by our very own weaver, and let me tell you it is of a quality my versachi baroque silks cannot match! It's pricecless! And you callously rip them like they're rags!” Sylvari was obviously in an emotional fit. He kept walking around, picking up items and placing them down again, before tossing around in a huff. “Can I - sir please - Sylvari - SYLVARI STOP!” The skydancer stopped, placed a hand on his chest, and took a deep breath. 'No wait, please! I know how I can fix it!” He stopped and glared at her, nose in the air. “I obviously know nothing about clothing, and I want to learn.” Sylvari snorted, rolling his eyes. Salasiel glared at him until he beckoned her to go on. “I want to wear clothes with pride, clothes that have been styled by the very best. You are renowned worldwide, and everyone here is so well dressed! I...I want to model for you, to wear your clothes. I want to make mysel- i mean, us famous. I want to work for you, learn your skill, win competitions for you. I want to wear silks like everybody else, and I can't do it scrubbing windows and washing sheets. Let me make you proud.” He looked her over intensely, scrutinising her. She stood still, chin up like her mummy told her. This time it was to make herself proud. He scowled and placed his hand on her back, pushing her out the door. “Get out.” “No! But wait! I can prove myself, please! Please! What did I say wrong?!” He silently pushed her out and stood in front of the doorway. The sun had almost completely set. “I don't use hatchlings as models. As soon as you grow up meet me here just past sunrise. I will not go easy on you, Salasiel. You have not made your life here easy for yourself. If you want your silks you will have to work twice as hard as me. The real world begins now, boo. Now get out of my sight.” She turned and flew off, smiling genuinely for the first time in her life.
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ETYMOLOGY - A unique name her mother gave her in order to set her aside from the other plebians. RELATIONS -
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