Aleka

"I didn't ask for this!"

Dark ichor drips form clenched fists, wild white eyes dart from star to star, high on their thrones in the sky. Whispers reach his ears, soft, toneless things that mean so little to a dragon who speaks so much through appearance, but they are persistent, nagging sounds that never give him a moment's rest.

Innocence lost, never to be regained. One too many wrong turns at the worst of times.

The stars above are portals, the voices whisper. Portals to another world. A world that creates and destroys, controls his own.

Iscah smiles softly, sadly, peering up at the sad little thing perched a top Anville's clock tower, lamenting his misfortunes. He is all but invisible to Anville's denizens, as Iscah herself is. They are different, ones chosen by powers beyond dragonkind, beyond the deities themselves.

Coming to terms with his fate is an arduous task, but he will. With time.