Rosoidela's dragon Achatius

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

20.82 m

Wingspan

16.47 m

Weight

7991.36 kg

Genetics

Pink
Iridescent

Rose
Shimmer

Pink
Underbelly

Hatchday

Mar 29, 2014
(10 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

A C H A T I U S
T h e •

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"What are you thinking?"

Achatius rolled over in bed to look at his wife laying beside him, her hands clasped in her lap and staring resolutely at the ceiling. She didn't even deign to look his way, and he sighed, turning away.

"Nothing, really," he said.

Their ceiling really was interesting, he supposed. The subtle molding on the wall, the thin crack that ran from the edge of their ceiling light and back. When did that happen? When they installed the light? Later? He didn't know, but knowing her, she'd somehow find a way to blame him for it anyways. It wouldn't surprise him if she zeroed in on it, throwing it into his face as if that were some kind of trump card when it was nothing more than blanks in a firearm.

"Sweetie," she said, that pet name she always used when she really didn't care. He thought it was cute at first. Thought she was being romantic and affectionate using a term of endearment. Instead, it was a lie. All one big precarious house of cards that threatened to fall around them at any moment. "I know you better than that."

And wasn't that the truth. That even after so many years, of silently hating and judging and loathing, that they were still able to read each other's minds, to catch their meaning in a single glance. It said something, didn't it, when their worst enemies were also their closest friends.

"Sometimes," he said, keeping his tone as light and airy as hers, as uninterested, his eyes glued to the ceiling, "it feels like such a waste."

All the time they'd spent, the years they'd used to build themselves back up, clawing their way to the top, all while glaring daggers at each other, vying to poison the other behind their back. Oh, they smiled plenty for the cameras, acted the charming husband and wife pairs, but behind doors...

He thought of her twisted smile, those too sharp gazes, the way every word she spoke dripped with venom and anger. He thought of her, so cold and distant, snatching her hand from his as the curtains closed without a backwards glance. So many years... and for what?

"Mn," she said. Then, "Pathetic."

The word landed between them with all the eloquence of a dead fish. Even so, Achatius didn't even blink.

"Perhaps," he said, throwing her words back at her, "but I know you better than that."

For a long moment, Ania didn't say a single word. But then with a soft exhale, she rolled over in bed, her back facing him, the conversation effectively over.

"Good night," she said, and the light clicked off.

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S t a t u s
Level 25

N e m e s i s
Ania

L o r e
January 16, 2022

P e r s o n a l i t y

H i s t o r y

M i s c e l l a n e o u s

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Exalting Achatius to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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