Taljiwald
(#27282420)
Level 1 Guardian
Familiar
Wispwillow Peryton
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Female Guardian
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
12.76 m
Wingspan
19.56 m
Weight
7895.28 kg
Genetics
Caribbean
Petals
Petals
Abyss
Butterfly
Butterfly
Mint
Smoke
Smoke
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Guardian
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
NOT FOR SALE, TRADE, OR LENDING
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Taljiwald
{ TAL - ji - WALD } Nickname: Talji ♦ AH purchase 
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮ WanderLand |
Quote:
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...for this befell and behappened and became and was, O my Best Beloved, when the Tame animals were wild...as wild as wild could be—and they walked in the Wet Wild Woods by their wild lones. But the wildest of all the wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself, and all places were alike to him. Of course, the Man was wild, too. |
The reeds shuddered as a gale swept overhead....But no. It was a Guardian, and his crystalline wings, festooned with Gembond, flapped laboriously as he struggled to land. He was obviously a strong flier, though impeded by the Pearlcatcher he clutched in his forepaws. At last he could labor no longer, and with a grunt, he dropped his cargo. The Pearlcatcher thudded to the mossy floor. He was scraped and a bit winded, but otherwise all right.
The Guardian dropped down. He landed with a thump that shook the whole clearing. The trees shivered and threw down their leaves, and the Pearlcatcher asked him, "Why have you brought me here?"
"I explained it to you over and over again; didn't you listen?" The Guardian raised his head. His eyes glinted, chips of ice against the diamond brightness of his skin. He shone brighter than the armor that covered his shoulders. The Pearlcatcher had to squint at him and then explain, rather plaintively, that it had been hard to listen to the Guardian's explanation while the two of them had been flying at breakneck speed over the Sea of a Thousand Currents.
The Guardian shut the smaller dragon up: he stamped his paw, and more leaves swirled down from the trees. "Be quiet, Amaroth! Now, you listen closely. I will not say it again." He bent his great head and glowered deep into the smaller dragon's eyes. As the Pearlcatcher cowered, the Guardian reiterated, his voice low and cold, "Many years back, when I was still...free..." He trailed off. For a moment, his jaws champed dreadfully.
And then he continued, "I once passed through these forests. I heard whispers from the rustics who live on its outskirts, something about a spirit....And you'd know all about spirits, wouldn't you, Amaroth?"
Amaroth's ears twitched, and he made no reply.
"A spirit dwells here, among these trees. It is said to take the form of a dragon, and it's elusive, most elusive...." The Guardian's eyes sparked. "Though not that elusive, I'll have you know."
"How would you know?" Amaroth dared to ask.
The Guardian's jaw jutted forward. "Because I've seen it," he hissed. "I glimpsed it a few times, back when I was lost in this accursed place. It was long before you", and he poked a talon at Amaroth, "had ever set eyes on our clan. I've told this story many times and tried to convince the clan leaders to let me take an expedition to go and find it, but they laughed at me." He growled again, and it sounded like an iceberg breaking. "They laughed. At me."
Amaroth turned away. The Guardian seemed to appreciate the gesture, or else its significance was lost on him, because all he grumbled was, "We'll capture that spirit, and we'll bring it back to the clan. It's not enough if you tell them you saw it, too. You see things all the time. And nobody believes you. You know what it's like." For a moment, the arrogant Guardian's head drooped. "You understand what it means."
They drifted deep into darkness, towards the forest's secret heart. There, where there was only dim blue light, more like shadows, really, something moved. Something glowed.
Ethereal and unafraid...That was the spirit who walked among the trees. Striding through the darkness, her great paws leaving no mark upon the mossy floor. Silent, making no sound...
Only the whisper of the trees.
There's a saying that karma's a scoundrel only if you are, and as fate would have it, the next clan he'd challenged had been the Disillusionists' clan. Their leaders, though of the same age as Metalicana, had had far more experience in combat than he had, and they had trounced him spectacularly. While he had been recovering from his beating, they had pressed him into service as a guard. He lived with them now, abiding by their rules, wary of being smacked on the snout again. He had been with them long enough that they felt comfortable about letting him wander off, and he'd taken advantage of that -- chasing after a spirit he'd glimpsed a few times before, determined to prove that getting cracked on the head headn't addled his over-proud brains.
Amaroth could sympathize with him. His mother had been plagued by spirits, elementals that had torn her away from her parents and her first home. She had eventually been rescued by her mate, Amaroth's father, but the experiences that had brought her to him had left her badly traumatized. Amaroth had picked up scraps of information here and there, and in an attempt to assuage his mother's fears and let her know that she wasn't alone in her peculiarity, he had started saying that he, too, could see spirits. He could see them clinging to the trees, dancing through the morning mist, or slithering through dew-speckled grass. His parents had quieted him and let him know that such things are best not spoken of, but by then it'd been too late, and he'd built a reputation for himself. He'd been invited to join the Disillusionists' clan because of his special ability, and he'd quickly left his parents, his face burning with shame.
Because you see, there was just one problem: Amaroth could not, in fact, see spirits. At all.
He pondered this later on as he built a fire. By then, he and Metalicana had been wandering vaguely through the creaking woods. Amaroth built their fire under an overhang of rock, shielding it from the drizzle that was beginning to fall. Metalicana crouched on the leeward side, grumbling and growling as water sluiced over his diamond scales. He was always bad-tempered and grouchy, and when he got grouchy, he could be downright mean. Amaroth, mindful of this, quickly prepared their evening meal. He served fish and meat to the Guardian, and even Metalicana couldn't complain. One bite, two bites, three...He snapped up his share and probably would have eaten Amaroth's, too, but the Pearlcatcher had wisely wrapped his food in leaves and hidden it in the ground, under his pearl. Metalicana wouldn't dare touch it -- he did have some manners, after all. After eyeing Amaroth suspiciously, he laid his head on the ground and closed his eyes. He was snoring within minutes.
Amaroth remained wide awake. The bamboo forest made him deeply uneasy, and besides, he was hungry. When he was sure that Metalicana was asleep, he rolled his pearl away. He wrapped his tail around it and started munching on his dinner, even as he watched the darkness with narrowed, anxious eyes.
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Then the Man went to sleep in front of the fire ever so happy; but the Woman sat up....She took the bone of the shoulder of mutton—the big fat blade-bone—and she looked at the wonderful marks on it, and she threw more wood on the fire, and she made a Magic. She made the First Singing Magic in the world. Out in the Wet Wild Woods all the wild animals gathered together where they could see the light of the fire a long way off, and they wondered what it meant. |
The night passed. It was cold and wet and uncomfortable, and Amaroth drifted off to sleep with his bowl upon his lap.
He woke hours later. It was odd -- he didn't awaken suddenly; rather, it was as if he slowly drifted back into consciousness, like a fish floating up to the light. The world around him came into view, in deep blues and greens and shadows....
The fire had gone out.
Suddenly Amaroth was wide awake. He bounded onto all fours, knocking the bowl to the ground. He didn't know what to do -- he automatically tried to clean up the mess, but his head kept jerking up, scanning the trees. And then his body went cold.
There, among the shadows...Something moving, something big. It moved silently in spite of its large size; it was almost as big as Metalicana. It walked away unhurriedly, and it seemed it was actually lighter than the shadows that surrounded it....
Amaroth turned -- and almost fainted when he came face-to-face with Metalicana. The Guardian was staring intently into the darkness. "You saw," he hissed. It was not a question. But to Amaroth, it was.
"Does that mean...it's not a spirit, then?"
The drizzle had stopped long ago. She glowed, and the land around her, still wet with rain, seemed to glimmer in response. The air was heavy with the scent of water, and there was that faint hint of salt from the Tidelord's chaotic sea. But now there was something else....
The spirit's sigh was inaudible, but the air stirred, nonetheless. There was something on the wind...that smelled good....
"When I first came here, I was a warrior," growled Metalicana. It was one of those cold, gloomy nights that promised rain. The Guardian continued, "I was unfettered and had no leader whose whims I had to bend to....Certainly I had nobody to push me around like what's happening now."
They still had to go back to their clan at the end of their gathering periods -- otherwise the leaders would send a search party after them. Amaroth got along well with the leaders, but he hadn't been in the clan that long and he didn't want to displease them. And Metalicana...Well, whether or not it'd been his fault (and it had been, with bells on), he'd been through enough already. Amaroth thought.
Something else stuck out to him, and he queried, "You haven't got a charge?"
"I? No." Metalicana blinked. The thought actually seemed to surprise him -- not by much, but it was an interesting change.
Their travels (or travails?) continued. They probed deeper and deeper into the dark forest. They went where the moss was so thick, their footprints filled with water. The scent of loam and dew filled their nostrils. Trees arched overhead and then wove together, blocking out the light. On and on it went, until they realized...
"We're lost."
"What?" Metalicana sat down with a thump.
"We're lost, I'm certain of it. There -- look at the ground." Amaroth pointed. The Guardian raised his head, and sure enough, there they were: footprints leading back among the trees. They had already filled with water, and he'd initially taken them for puddles.
He thumped his tail, sending a curtain of droplets into the air. "I'm sick and tired of this!"
"You were the one who wanted to come out here," Amaroth thought, but he held his tongue.
"I absolutely despise it here. It's cold and it's wet, and it stinks. Everything stinks." Metalicana got to his feet. He shook the water off his scales and bellowed, "We're getting out of here, and not one word from you, Amaroth, about how we--"
"Metalicana."
"What!"
"How long have we been here?" Amaroth asked quietly. He'd asked the question because he'd noticed their footprints -- but they led into the trees, and there was no path to show where they'd gone. The damage Metalicana had wrought by simply bulldozing his way onward...It had disappeared.
While the Guardian started mumbling something about witchcraft or sorcery, Amaroth looked around. His mind began working....He started analyzing facts.
"How long have we been here?
"I can't see the sun....
"I don't feel hungry or thirsty, not one bit....It's a good thing Metalicana still has our pack. It hasn't gotten wet, has it?
"I can see our footprints....
"But we're lost, no question about it." Amaroth moved to the trees, peered between them. He could see the dim line made by their footprints, but the trees had sprung back into place like grass. Amaroth knew they could follow the trail -- but he also had a feeling it would lead them nowhere. He remembered bits and pieces of lore he'd snatched from fellow spirit enthusiasts, and also whispers he'd heard from his mother. He looked at Metalicana, turning slowly in a circle. A term slipped into his mind, like a fish plopping back into water: pixy-led.
She crouched down to watch them. They turned uncertainly, as if trying a new dance, and their eyes, pale blue and gold, swept the trees. The great spirit loped off again, keeping just out of sight. A flash here, a flicker there...She heard them grumble to each other. The Guardian's voice was low and rough, and the Pearlcatcher spoke softly, his words an angry hum. She watched them argue with each other. Eventually the Guardian snapped at his smaller companion, his fangs clashing onto empty air -- the Pearlcatcher had danced aside. He scooted around the Guardian's flank and tugged on the pack straps. Now things were getting interesting.
"No way," Metalicana rumbled. He lifted his paw against Amaroth's face and heaved, and the Pearlcatcher tumbled backwards onto the moss. As Metalicana adjusted the strap with one great claw, Amaroth whispered harshly, "It wants something."
The Guardian stopped. "What do you mean, 'it wants something'? Wait...This isn't another of those things, is it?"
Amaroth nodded. Metalicana scowled at him and shook the pack off. He wandered away, grumbling and growling, and settled down at the edge of the clearing. As Amaroth got to work, he saw Metalicana out of the corner of his eye, poking at the trees or gazing up at the heavens. No such luck -- the sky above them was completely blocked off now.
He worked quickly. He dug some moss away and then, with much difficulty, he built a fire -- a smolder, really. Fires did not burn well in this damp and dripping place. "Don't go out, don't go out..."
Next, he prepared their dinner. Needless to say, Metalicana was not expecting this. The Guardian's frills flapped open. "What are you doing?!"
"Shush! Sh-sh-shhhh!" Amaroth hissed back. He was a lot smaller than Metalicana, but it was still so unexpected that Metalicana actually paused.
"Something's been watching us these past few days," Amaroth whispered. He spoke in a whisper because he wasn't sure the whatever-it-was could understand him. Some of them did...and some of them didn't. Or didn't want to.... "It's always been in the background -- you've felt it too, haven't you?"
"You think it's that spirit?" Metalicana pawed at the ground. His claws gouged deeply into the moss. "We'll show it, then! This is our chance. We have to--"
"It only came near us once, Metalicana. And that was when" -- Amaroth held something up -- "we'd finished our dinner."
Metalicana looked down his nose at Amaroth's anti-spirit weapon. It was a haunch of meat, only half-cooked. Finally he was beyond surprise, and he shut his trap and stared at the smoky Pearlcatcher.
The next few minutes seemed very long for both of them. Metalicana paced back and forth in the bamboo cage, occasionally whacking the trees with his tail. Amaroth crouched near the center of the mossy glade, turning the haunch on an improvised spit. The air grew lighter, less soporific. The heavy scent of rain was replaced by the brisk smell of fresh-cooked meat. Amaroth held up the haunch, and Metalicana crept closer. "Now...?"
"Now we eat," Amaroth sighed. He chopped the haunch into three portions and then he and the Guardian settled down. Amaroth was in a slightly tight spot. If his guesses had been wrong... "Well, we'll probably be stuck here, and that'll be it. At least we tried."
They ate slowly. Metalicana finished first. He licked his chops and then sat in place. His eyes probed the forest suspiciously. Across from him, Amaroth continued to eat slowly, carefully....He made the meal last.
The fire began to die down.
By the time it was nothing more than faintly glowing coals, Amaroth was morbidly convinced he'd been wrong. He'd set aside the third portion, and Metalicana was eyeing it hungrily now. Amaroth couldn't be sure if the growls he heard were from the Guardian's stomach or his throat. He was sitting in awkward silence, wondering what else they could say or do, when Metalicana's eyes flickered. He was watching something. "As I thought," Amaroth mused, and then he fanned the fire to life again. He lifted the piece of meat above the flames and blew on it, and a tendril of lovely smells drifted into the trees.
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When Wild Dog reached the mouth of the Cave he lifted up the dried horse-skin with his nose and sniffed the beautiful smell of the roast mutton, and the Woman, looking at the blade-bone, heard him, and laughed, and said, 'Here comes the first. Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, what do you want?' Wild Dog said, 'O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy, what is this that smells so good in the Wild Woods?' |
Metalicana let out an oath as something swirled out of the trees. It looked like a mass of quivering lights, with the strongest glows contained near the center and at the top, roughly where the creature's eyes and heart should be. As Metalicana babbled out questions, demanding to know what was going on, Amaroth approached the luminous entity. "It wants something," he remembered himself saying. He held out the bowl with the warm piece of meat inside it. As he did so, he automatically crouched down, showing his peaceable intent. Behind him, Metalicana continued to shift back and forth, and Amaroth thought about how surreal it all must look: the nameless entity, shining like a net of stars; the dark blue forest encaging them; and himself, practically kneeling, as if making an offering....
| "Spirits demand offerings," he remembered. There was a thought fluttering at the back of his mind, but he still proffered the bowl. And he said to the shining creature-- |
Then the Woman picked up a roasted mutton-bone and threw it to Wild Dog, and said,
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'Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, taste and try.'
"She wanted something," murmured Pyrea. She tossed more dried herbs onto the fire. Metalicana coughed, hacked, and swore, but Amaroth managed to stay silent. He had told his story, but the most detailed iteration of it had been explained to the shaman. Of how the entity had leaned forward...It had accepted the offering. "Spirits demand offerings," Amaroth had thought; too late, he had remembered he couldn't actually see spirits, and neither could Metalicana, and yet they had both seen...her.
And the shining jaws had closed over the offering, and a strange change had occurred. Ripples of color and shadows had appeared within the net of light, like ink filling a jar. Amaroth had backpedaled in fear, and Metalicana had let out a weird, squeaky noise. The "ink" had filled up the net of light -- which remained unchanged, as if draped over the green-blue dragon that had apparently been the entity. She had finished chewing, swallowed daintily, and then said, "Hello."
"What is she?" Amaroth finally managed to ask. It was easier to speak now. He had been fed and watered, and Pyrea's assistant opened the shades. Smoke drifted out of the room, but it was almost dusk now, and only a little light came in.
The shaman's golden eyes gleamed. "There are stories", she said shortly. "You've been speaking of the spirit world and how it differs from the physical one....But there are other worlds out there, Amaroth. And they are homes to other types of beings."
There was a vast hiss as the fire was quenched. Metalicana growled and shook his head. "What is she, then?"
"I believe she is a type of fairy."
Metalicana bristled. "Biggest fairy I've ever seen," he snapped. In response, Pyrea swatted him across the snout with a bouquet of herbs. The Guardian snarled back and then turned and lumbered out of the lair.
Amaroth stayed. He waited patiently, and finally Pyrea continued, "There is a belief that a mortal who enters the world of fairies must not eat or drink what is offered to them there. If that should happen and you should partake of fairy food or drink...you will stay there. There is no turning back. Little is known...but I suppose it may be possible for the reverse to happen. For a fairy, tired of living in the fairy land, to cross over to the world of mortals."
"Why would she do that?"
Pyrea sniffed. "She will have her reasons. You should ask her. Besides...who isn't to say she is the mortal and we're the ones in Fairyland?"
The newest addition to their clan had been named Taljiwald. One of the others, Amaroth couldn't recall who, had said that it was the name of a secret forest, a place of magic and strangeness. It certainly suited the luminous dragon.
She spoke rarely. She was almost completely silent as she walked, like an impossibly huge panther. Glowing lines of light still looped across her skin, dimming only when she entered the shadows. She seemed to have a perpetual smile on her face, an alluring expression that was genuine and warm but still gave Amaroth the chills whenever she met his gaze. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking -- and nobody wanted to try.
As he left Pyrea's and Pharrix's den, he looked around. Metalicana was on guard again; he was usually partnered with Alberge, but the cynical Imperial was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was Taljiwald. She hovered in the shadows, clearly trailing after Metalicana.
"Help me," Metalicana mouthed at Amaroth. But the Pearlcatcher only shook his head and turned away. Karma's a scoundrel only if you are.
As he bustled off, he felt Taljiwald's eyes boring into his back -- that keen, green-eyed gaze. He shuddered and kept moving. Perhaps soon he would turn around and find her there, lingering in the shadows, smiling her sweet and chilling smile. He had an inkling of how she had felt -- once upon a time she had been an elusive beast striding fearlessly through the trees. Dragons had spied on her, and they had chased after her....
And now it was her turn to spy on and chase them.
Karma's a scoundrel only if you are.
Quote:
| ...between times, and when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up the Wet Wild Trees or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone. |
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♦ art by Disillusionist
♦ art by GoldenStardust
♦ art by Dragonderg
♥ art by Kaixin
♥ art by Hyperrectangle
♦ art by takatsuki
♦ art by GoldenStardust
♦ art by Dragonderg
♥ art by Kaixin
♥ art by Hyperrectangle
♦ art by takatsuki
Credits & Notes:
* The quotes used in the story are from The Cat that Walked by Himself (Rudyard Kipling, Just So Stories).
* The Wispwillow Peryton was a gift from Wystaria.
* dividers are from MsBarrows' Tumblr here
* Note to self: ping whiteraven90 for similar hatchlings
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