Zia

(#2835)
Level 6 Pearlcatcher
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Familiar

Spellwrought Ambassador
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Female Pearlcatcher
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Personal Style

Apparel

Will o' the Wisp
Woeful Presence
Plum Plumed Cover
Charming Sage Cover

Skin

Scene

Measurements

Length
5.83 m
Wingspan
4.89 m
Weight
615.37 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Mulberry
Basic
Mulberry
Basic
Secondary Gene
Splash
Basic
Splash
Basic
Tertiary Gene
Steel
Basic
Steel
Basic

Hatchday

Hatchday
Jun 08, 2013
(11 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Pearlcatcher

Eye Type

Eye Type
Light
Common
Level 6 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 5344 / 8380
Meditate
Contuse
Blinding Slash
STR
12
AGI
14
DEF
13
QCK
14
INT
16
VIT
13
MND
14

Lineage


Biography

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dragon?age=1&body=13&bodygene=22&breed=4&element=8&gender=1&tert=25&tertgene=17&winggene=22&wings=22&auth=3507a59ac73906c07979ae671c196b91868bf550&dummyext=prev.png

WRITTEN FOR KATBUTTS. COPIED HERE FOR WRITING SAMPLE.

Weak, he whispered to her in her memories. You’re weak, you’re nothing, you’ll never be anything. She shook her head to clear it, and continued on through the woods. She wasn’t sure where she was going, only that she was going away.

Weak, the woods whispered around her. Couldn’t kill, couldn’t protect. Couldn’t save. Weak. She growled into the mist. She hadn’t been ready! The Shade’s beasts attacked without warning, when the strong were out hunting. Only the weak were at home in the lair- the weak, and her. She was young, unblooded, what could she have done?

Everything. Anything. Saved them. Weak. Each footstep was a curse, each breath an accusation. Though her scales were a pearly purple-grey, her heart felt black and heavy. She continued, head held low, her great platinum wings hanging limp at her sides. Not even the cheerful morning chorus of the songbirds reached through her gloom, though she had once loved to sit at the mouth of the lair on dewy mornings and listen to their music. The only sound she heard was his roar, echoing through her mind.

When he found her there, limp but alive among the bodies that had been friends, family, lovers, rivals, he let out a visceral roar of anguish and anger. She feared that he would kill her then, but all he said when he turned his gaze upon her was, “You are weak. Look at what you did nothing to prevent. You are nothing. You’ll never be anything. Get out of my sight, and never return here.” His tone was almost calm, belying the fury in his eyes.

She loved those eyes. Had loved those eyes, she corrected herself. She couldn’t let herself feel those things anymore. She must feel nothing. She was no longer who she had been. She could never be that dragon again.

The Guardian who had once been Alia continued along the forest path.

* * *

The steppes about her were verdantly green, a living contrast to the dark crackled inks she applied to herself along with her new name. Shadow. You are the wraith in the night. Protect. Save. Never look back. Shadow adjusted her cowl, crouched, and leaped into the air. As her huge wings carved out the wind, she reflected on the long months since she became the wraith in the night. I’ve saved two hundred and forty-three dragons. I’ve killed twice that many enemies- kidnappers, murderers, thieves. And yet I feel nothing. And still I see nothing but my—the lair on that day. When will it cease to haunt my dreams?

A gull soared downwind of her, small and pale in the fading light. Shadow banked away from it, so that her bulk wouldn’t scare it away. After all, it probably deserved the air more than she. What did she deserve?

Never look back. Be the wraith in the night.

Below her, a cave yawned wide in the steppes of the Ascent. Shadow glanced at the sun, now only a sliver on the horizon, and dove to meet the earth. In the gloom of dusk, she misjudged the distance and landed hard in front of the cave, stumbling for a moment before catching herself. Warily, she sniffed the air for any sign of life.

The air smelled of death. Wrinkling her nose, Shadow huffed and stepped into the lair. Probably some phytocat left the remains of his lunch within. She was not prepared for the sight- Weak. All dead. Your fault. Tens of dragons lay dead or dying, taken by some terrible plague. Shadow gouged her razor claws into the dirt of the cave, trying not to run. Save them. Slowly, calmly, she walked among the members of the stricken clan, trying to find someone she could save.

Across the cave, a silver-and-teal skydancer weakly raised her head, her sinuous neck barely off the ground. “Help me, please,” she coughed. Shadow glanced at the remaining clanmembers to ensure no one else could be saved, then padded over to the coughing dragon.

“I’m going to get you out of here, alright?” Shadow asked her. The skydancer made no reply- she had fallen unconscious. Shadow grunted and gently tucked the female’s wings against her body before dragging her out of what was quickly becoming a tomb. The fresh breeze outside the cave seemed to revive Shadow’s charge somewhat. She raised her head once more and managed to cough out, “Hazel. My name is Hazel. Thank you.” Shadow simply blinked and nodded.

* * *

The days passed. Shadow had found a small outcropping on the steppes and holed up there with the sick skydancer. She brought Hazel food and healing herbs, and slowly- slowly, Hazel began to regain her strength and health. When she was well enough to fly, she and Shadow found a new home, a large empty lair on the Reedcleft Ascent. Eventually, the two were joined by a third- a skydancer named Augustus, and a fourth- golden Olympus the Ridgeback.
While Hazel claimed Augustus for her mate, Shadow wanted nothing like that with Olympus. When she lay her head down to rest, she still saw his eyes. She had loved those eyes. She had loved him.

But Olympus was persistent. He followed her to hunt, dogged her steps when she went on her morning walks, tried to start a conversation whenever possible. Somehow, she found her replies to him morphing from grunts of annoyance to one-word answers, to something more. Eventually, she began to look forward to their morning walks and chats together. Being with him was the only time she didn’t feel the weight of his eyes on her. Slowly, she began to mend.

Story written by Vortex #2174.
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