Press or click to Save this image.
(NOTE: Some browsers or ad blockers may require you to do this manually with a right click or long press on the image above.)
(NOTE: Some browsers or ad blockers may require you to do this manually with a right click or long press on the image above.)
Exit Scenic Mode.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.02 m
Wingspan
4.98 m
Weight
548.53 kg
Genetics
Pearl
Iridescent
Iridescent
Pearl
Facet
Facet
Orca
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
|
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
". . ." ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ “I will make it quick, I promise....” That was what she always said to the hatchlings that passed through her hands. And she did make it as quick as she could—as quick as a death could be, anyway. There was no guarantee that it would be painless....Her own pain continued for a long, long time. There was no one to promise her it would be quick, no one to fulfill that promise. She curses the day she saw him, the beautiful Skydancer in the white wolf pelt. It had been a somewhat hectic day at the orphanage, and her sleep had been restless. She had awoken to a brief snatch of laughter, an unfamiliar voice shushing them. “Come,” the velvet voice enticed them, “and I will take you away to a world of dreams....” She had crept out of bed and seen him: a slim Skydancer, so pale he almost glowed, his wolf cloak hiding his face except his eyes. They glittered in the moonlight as he strode out the door, a trio of hatchlings behind him. She had been intrigued—who was this mysterious stranger? Had he come to adopt them? It didn’t seem likely....She trailed after them on silent feet as they left the town and headed into the woods. The hatchlings were dark blots under the trees, but the Skydancer remained luminous. His wolf-like head turned this way and that as if searching for something. Soon he found it...or maybe it found him. The clouds moved, letting a shaft of moonlight through. It touched the trees before them, and suddenly the trees...weren’t there. Instead, impossibly, there was a field of flowers as pure and white as frost. They stretched into a dark horizon that hadn’t been there before. A cold wind blew, and petals spiraled upwards, tracing suggestions of filigree columns and a vaulted roof...a phantom palace of flowers and ice, visible only in the moonlight. The Skydancer led the children forward. As she watched, they receded from view as if moving into a great distance. They strode farther and farther away.... When they were about to vanish, when she thought her chest would burst from holding her breath, she darted forward. That was when a foot trod upon her tail. She yelped and turned, and met the eyes of a Snapper. A child from the orphanage, just like herself. He babbled frantically at her— “No! D-Don’t go in there! Th-This place...This place is...!” The cold wind blew again, almost flattening them. It smelled sweet, like lilies and jasmine—but now there was a faint foulness beneath, the hideous reek of decay. The columns wavered. They broke apart. Flower petals fell upon them, almost suffocating in their sweetness and weight. The Snapper was screaming fearfully now, but she kept her eyes open and raised her head above the tide. And so she saw as the trees briefly closed overhead—and then disappeared, replaced by the vaulted roof and columns she’d seen before. Not ones made of flowers, but carved from stone, and just as unfeeling and dead. “You shouldn’t be here,” a velvet voice murmured. As the flowers dissolved into frigid white fluid, she shook herself free and turned. The cloaked Skydancer was standing there. He still wore his wolf cloak, his eyes glittering coldly...but the children he’d taken away were nowhere to be seen. She found the children soon enough. She and her companion were tossed in with them. It was a small room, largely bare except for cushions on which the hatchlings slept. They didn’t seem to want to wake, for try as she might, she couldn’t rouse any of them. She and the Snapper remained awake. She wasn’t very glad of the company. The Snapper’s name was Henry, and he was regarded as a pompous brat by the rest of the children. He had once been a pampered child, and his merchant parents had bought him books and given him an excellent education, which had resulted in Henry becoming something of a know-it-all. All that had ended when the merchants had gone away. A party of Serthis had lain in wait for them along their route, and help had not been forthcoming. They had eventually been found in their trenches, hacked to death and then left to bake in the hot sun. “I know this place. I’ve read about it....It’s a bad place.” Henry’s teeth were chattering. His eyes, behind his glasses, were watery and huge. “What was that?” the Skydancer child asked him. She was the oldest child in the room and felt the need to take charge. “Henry, stop crying and tell me—what is this place?” Henry spoke as softly as snow falling onto a pillow. Even so, she heard the razor-cold fear in his voice— “It is the land of Faerie.” The cloaked Skydancer had spoken truly. Faerie was indeed a world of dreams...but also of nightmares. They found out soon enough when the children were taken, one by one, to be used: Their bodies were roped down, a talon poised over their throats. They were fully awake by this time, and they screamed and pleaded for mercy even as the black iron claw was drawn across their windpipes. The cartilage split, and breath and blood left them. One by one, they died, their blood running through channels to feed monsters that lurked, unseen and ravenous, in darkness deep below. By then, only three of them were left: herself, Henry, and a Ridgeback hatchling named Salman. He was younger than they were, but already burly, full of bravado. “We have to fight!” he declared. He thumped his tail and grinned encouragingly at them—but he couldn’t mask the desperation in his eyes. They watched fearfully as the door opened. They were expecting the cloaked Skydancer again, but it wasn’t him....He was beautiful, but next to this new dragon, he was a shard of cheap glass beside a glittering diamond. Now, she, on the other hand... Her scales were as brilliant as polished stone. Her mane and tail were long and impossibly fine, almost like silk. She carried herself regally, and though only glittering antlers crowned her head, there was no doubt in the hatchlings’ minds that she was a Queen. Maybe even...an Empress... “I am the Queen of Faerie,” she declared in ringing tones, and at these words, the children pressed tightly together, never mind Salman’s spines. Henry was still blubbering, and though the others couldn’t make out his words, his terror was contagious. And there was that reek again, sharper this time. They managed to tear their eyes from the Queen’s beautiful face—and had to force back horrified groans. The Queen’s talons...They bore sticky, rust-colored stains. They smelled of iron—the smell of old blood. “Yes,” sighed the Queen, “it sickens you, too, doesn’t it? And that is why I need your help, my dear children. “It is unfitting for a Queen such as I to continue sullying her hands. You all seem like stalwart young fellows. Wouldn’t you like to serve a Queen?” She held up a paw, and the hatchlings stared. A velvet cushion had suddenly appeared in her grasp. It was pristine—but the iron claw upon it was still stained with blood. Salman figured it out first. “We’ll never help you!” he bellowed defiantly. “We’ll die before we—” His shout choked off as, in the next instant, the Queen seized him in one ice-cold paw. “Then,” she whispered, her voice as soft and deadly as frostbite, “die, child.” With a horrendous crunch, the paw squeezed shut. Salman never stood a chance. His spines did not even pierce the Queen’s cold hide, and he died with nary a whimper. The Imperial flung the wretched mess aside and then glared down at the remaining hatchlings. It took some time for both of them to stop screaming. When their shrieks began fading to whimpers, she spoke again: “What an unpleasant child he was! I wouldn’t have enjoyed working with him, I’m sure. You, on the other hand, seem more reasonable. But I’m afraid that the claw will bond with one dragon only. It shall have to be one of you—and no, you can’t take turns. “What say you, my darlings? Will you help your Queen?” She proffered the claw again. She was smiling brightly now, all traces of her violent rage gone—and to the hatchlings, that only made her more horrifying. There would be no sign when she was about to snap. There would only be instant, unforgiving violence, the sick crunch of breaking bones, and another pitiful child to dispose of. Henry could not answer. He was blubbering incoherently now, trembling like a candle flame in a storm. The Skydancer forced herself to stop shivering. She couldn’t depend on Henry for aid—but neither could she abandon him. It was a long shot, but perhaps if... “I’ll do it,” she said to the Queen. “I’ll take the black claw. Only...” She swallowed hard and then, instinctively, she prostrated herself before the Imperial. “Please don’t kill Henry,” she sobbed. “He’s only a little kid; he doesn’t know any better. I’ll take care of him, please!” “It would not be a kindness to leave him alive,” growled the Queen. The Skydancer stared up at her in horror, certain that Henry would be wiped from existence next.... But instead, the Queen was smiling. “You are colder and more cruel than you look....I like that very much.” She chuckled, a low, oily rumble that made the Skydancer sick to her stomach. “You can keep your blubbering little pet. I care not what his name is. But you, girl, what is your name?” The Skydancer gave her name—both literally and figuratively. As soon as she spoke it, the name she had been born with, the Queen passed a wing over her. The shadow froze her to her bones, and as the cold fled, it took with it her name. “I am Titania of Faerie. And I will call you Lillian,” declared the Queen, “for now, you belong to the night.” As they had feared, the black claw bonded to Lillian, and she was forced to use it on other dragons, all of them like herself—hatchlings plucked from a warm bed and trapped in a waking nightmare. Titania guided Lillian's hand at first, her touch so cold it burned. Lillian could only huddle helplessly as her claw was drawn over the sacrifice’s throat and their cries died away. Henry broke some weeks later. Lillian had done her best to care for him, but after that first day, there was really no hope left. Queen Titania called her attention to this soon enough. She glared disdainfully at Henry, who had retreated into a corner and was wailing about dragons hacked to pieces and then left to rot in the sun. Lillian realized with a jolt, “He remembers what happened to his parents.” “Then,” Titania growled, “his mind is lost.” The look in her eyes left no doubt as to what she expected now. Henry was brought to the altar. He didn’t move; he only continued babbling even as Lillian prepared to slit his throat. As his blood began flowing, his doleful blue eyes fastened on her. “I was loved,” he whispered, and then he died. Was it a random sentence from a shattered mind, or some last spark of Henry himself, a last bit of defiance? She would never know. The light finally left his eyes, and his glasses shattered as they hit the floor. Lillian grew to adulthood in the Queen’s service. She learned to numb herself to the sacrifices’ pitiful cries. She did make an effort to quiet them, if only so that their screams wouldn’t smite her heart. “It will be quick, I promise,” she whispered to each of them. “Just close your eyes...” Most of them obeyed, eyes and mouths squeezed tightly shut so that only the faintest whimpers escaped. Others screamed up until the very end. One of them, a Mirror hatchling, spat at Lillian's face. “LIAR!” she shrieked, her orange eyes flashing. “Weakling! Coward!” Lillian didn’t reply, and her expression didn’t change. She slit the hatchling’s throat and sent her the way her four siblings had gone. After that, she never spoke to the sacrifices again. When not performing sacrifices, Lillian's free time was largely unoccupied. She did not speak to many dragons, and when she did, her voice was cold, almost surly. There were other dragons in the Faerie Kingdom—dragons who had also been spirited away. Many of them remained fearful of their otherworldly masters, seemingly teetering on the edge of sanity. Others had grown into their roles and carried out their duties willingly enough. Titania had thought that, over time, Lillian would fall into the latter category. Many dragons craved power and drank deeply of it once it was handed to them. But Lillian didn’t seem to care about that, or if she did, she gave no outward sign. The wall she had built to shield herself from trauma also shielded herself from the Queen’s probing—at least on the surface. Many dragons at the Faerie Court had expressed interest in Lillian. They had found themselves drawn to her cool dignity and grace. But Lillian had not returned their attentions. She had appreciated compliments but had shown no desire to bond with another dragon and start a family. And that grim, resolute look on her face...Titania had seen it before. It usually indicated trouble, and loath as she was to admit it, she liked having Lillian around. Not personally, of course—Lillian was a very beautiful dragon, and the Queen was proud to have such a jewel adorning her Court and working under her command. She would have to make sure that her Bishop remained well-behaved. “Have you seen our newest batch, Lillian? They are all such lovely things. I am almost tempted to keep one of them for myself.” “I see,” Lillian answered noncommittally. She was looking at the hatchlings who had been brought in for sacrifice, all of them asleep on their cushions. The Queen watched as she slowly began lining them up, readying them for their doom. She reached towards a sleeping Skydancer. That was when Titania cut in: “Not that one, Lillian. Let us keep her.” Lillian paused. She turned. “Your Majesty...?” “You’ve been looking a little mopey, my dear. Why don’t you take that one to keep you occupied? I thought you might want a new companion...seeing as it’s been some time since poor Henry passed on.” The frigid facade cracked ever so slightly—enough for Titania to see Lillian's true emotions, the turmoil roiling inside. She knew she had played her cards right—and given her Bishop something to lose. Something to threaten her with and keep her in line. She put a little steel back into her voice: “Lillian. Will you keep that one? Answer me, child; I haven’t got all day.” “I will take her off your hands, my Queen,” Lillian answered. Her voice was coldly proper again, but her answer nonetheless confirmed the Queen’s suspicions. Titania smiled slowly. “Good,” she murmured. “Very, very good.” The hatchling was named Carmen, and Lillian raised her in the ways of the Faerie Court. Carmen was taught to act like a proper lady and dressed in the finest clothes. Yet for all the lessons and finery, there was a wildness in Carmen that Lillian couldn’t tame. She despaired of that—but at the same time, she felt fierce pride that her adopted child was no submissive flower. She had spirit, strength...and courage. Lillian was not surprised when Carmen eventually fled the Cathedral of Eyes. She bore Titania’s tirade with her usual patience, not really hearing as the Queen raged and cursed. Inevitably, the Queen’s wrath turned upon her. “You knew of this, Lillian?” “Nay, my Queen. I raised Carmen to be a proper Lady of the Court—” “Is that so?” Titania’s eyes narrowed. “She did not seem like a proper lady, barging down into the catacombs and stealing an unhatched egg from within!” “My Queen, I assure you I—” Titania’s rage smashed against Lillian like a meteor. The Skydancer was flung across the room to collide with the far wall. Her bones burned with pain, and every fiber of her being screamed at her to get up, to run away.... “No,” she realized. “That will only make it worse....” Titania loomed over her again. “Your worthless brat is far beyond my reach, Bishop. Your lapses in judgment have brought this about, and I must discipline you. I should...punish you...” The Queen held up her claw. Even as pain tore through Lillian's body, a part of her screamed in defiant victory. Her hatchling, the only one she had allowed herself to love and raise, was free—and she had carried another child with her! “Yes. Two for the price of one...It’s not a bad bargain.” She had sunk so low—but that only meant she could go higher from here on out. She didn’t doubt that she would. Already there were whispers of a rebellion brewing, allies uniting against the tyrannical Faerie Queen and King. “I was loved,” Henry had whispered to her. She tried to picture Carmen flying away to freedom, the unhatched egg cradled in her arms. She remembered Titania whispering to her that she was Lillian now and that she belonged to the night.... She could bear the pain now. It was just like a nightmare, for soon, she would awaken. The long night was coming to an end. ~ written by Disillusionist (254672) all edits by other users
Lore written by Disillusionist
Layout by Kintsy
|
I N V E N T O R Y
|
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
Feed this dragon Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
Feed this dragon Plants.
You can share this dragon on the forums by either copying the browser URL manually, or using bbcode!
Exalting Lillian to the service of the Lightweaver will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
Do you wish to continue?
- Names must be longer than 2 characters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.