Melchior

▸ Gender: Male ▸ Orientation: Heterosexual ▸ Homeland: Dragonhome

__________ Earthshaker Stone Statue Trinkets A rough, faceted statue depicting the Earthshaker. It is carved out of thick granite and casts a long, worried shadow. 105 __________

▸ Birthplace: Oakrest ▸ Element: Earth ▸ Profession: Perfumer

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The oldest of his nest, Melchior feels an enormous weight of responsibility. Raising his four younger siblings while his father dealt with his own troubles was more than should be asked of any child. But Melchior felt it was his place to care for his nest siblings where his father could not. He has tried so very hard to follow his father's craft, but during a dyemaking lesson, the hot liquid splashed in his face and badly damaged his eyes. He is nearly blind now, unable to tell shapes from shapes and colors from other colors, and though his fur has grown back, it is obvious it covers some deformity from the scarring. He has tried not to be bitter, but having to relearn how to navigate the lair while the rest of his siblings learn to take the next steps in their lives has been a difficult burden to bear.

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Adhara Halloran Melchior's mother. Though not related by blood, their relationship as parent and child is not diminished at all by this. Altair Halloran Melchior's uncle. Altair constantly reminds Melchior that they are not real relatives which by itself would already make the skydancer despise him. Melchior only barely tolerates Altair for Adhara's sake. Shula Melchior's original mother. Boniface Melchior's younger brother and eldest nestmate. Boniface currently lives in Crownfire. Sundance Melchior's younger sister and second youngest nestmate. Sundance currently lives in the Clan of the Crystal Toadstool. Lilystitch Halloran Melchior's firstborn child. Lilystitch currently lives in the Clan of the Crystal Toadstool. Nari Halloran Melchior's third child. Nari currently lives on Prufrock. Joon Halloran Melchior's fifth child. Joon currently lives on Prufrock. Sunflower Halloran Melchior's seventh child. Kether Melchior's nephew, the firstborn of his older sister Hasina. Moonveil Melchior's niece, the firstborn of his younger sister Sundance. Jian Halloran Melchior's eldest grandchild, the firstborn of his fifth child Joon. Filigree Melchior's great-niece, the granddaughter of his younger sister Rosie. Ghalib Melchior's great-nephew, the grandson of his youngest brother Eilif. Kaliq Halloran Melchior's great-great-nephew, the grandson of his nephew Aeneas.

Waterlily Melchior's aunt. They are not blood relatives, which is something of a relief to Melchior because he would otherwise be hurt by Waterlily's indifference. Brightwork Melchior's father. Seong Euna Melchior's mate. Rosie Melchior's younger sister and second oldest nestmate. Rosie currently lives with the Leafwings. Eilif Melchior's youngest sibling and final nestmate. Eilif currently lives in Crownfire. Gwangmin Halloran Melchior's secondborn child. Gwangmin currently lives in Crownfire. Iseul Halloran Melchior's fourth child. Iseul currently lives on Prufrock. Dawnsmith Halloran Melchior's sixth child. Jin Halloran Melchior's eighth child. Jin currently lives on Prufrock. Wisp Melchior's niece, the secondborn of his younger sister Rosie. Aeneas Halloran Melchior's nephew, the firstborn of his youngest brother Eilif. Aeneas is the second in command of Maserift's Coldfire Company. Mari Halloran Melchior's granddaughter, firstborn of his third child Nari. Rhea Halloran Melchior's great-niece, the firstborn of his nephew Aeneas and the granddaughter of his youngest brother Eilif. Ilia Halloran Melchior's great-great-niece, the firstborn of his great-niece Rhea.

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Brightwork seems a bit distant to the dragons of Oakrest, but it's not because he has little to say to them. Instead, he has a good deal of things to say, but finding the right words in time is an exhausting challenge. It's so much easier for him to listen and let others do the talking than it is for him to risk his words coming out in a tangle, as they often do. In times of great stress, he is known to stutter and shout fragments before storming off in a fit of shame. Add to this the high emotions and stresses that are often prevalent in Oakrest, and it's amazing that Brightwork bothered to stay in the clan after he grew.

But Brightwork has a skill that few others in the clan possess, and he is proud to put it to use for all members. He is a masterful dye maker. The fabrics that pass through his claws are patiently treated and processed until they are exactly the right hue. He may not be able to articulate how he feels about someone, but if he gives them a beautiful piece of silk unbidden, it is a certain sign of his affection.

For those who take the time to get to know Brightwork, he is a steady companion with fierce and deep loyalties. An astute understanding of color and fashion has made him THE go-to designer for performers far and wide. His loyal customers swear his colors remain steadier than importing from other flights. He is often busy, and happiest while at work among his cauldrons of dye.

His original mate, Shula, was an artistic and driven imperial known for her sculptures, beekeeping, and fire enchanting. Never of good health, she was found dead after a journey to tend to her hives. Brightwork was devastated after her death and did his best to raise their last nest of children by himself.

Since her death, he has not been able to remain in Oakrest. Its winding corridors filled with the wax sculptures that Shula completed during her life cause him to feel uncomfortably claustrophobic. He misses her companionship and her kind but honest critique of his work. He is uncertain if he will take a mate again, but he hopes to find a clan where his style and dye-making are in high demand.



Shula has never been as hale as her peers - blood pressure and circulation difficulties have plagued her all her life. Her heart, perhaps, never developed properly while she was an egg, despite the warm clime of her home clan. She knows her days are numbered. Every moment of vertigo or grey-out reminds her. She is not a very good flier, but is quite skilled at gliding, even when feeling faint.

Shula is very gifted in fire magic. Some suspect that what she has lost in future years has been exchanged for her talents. Shula does not agree. After all, some very talented mages live a very long time.

She is very aware of her mortality. It gives her a resigned sense of urgency, and a drive to do as much as possible while she may. Like many imperials, she chooses to spend her limited time making art. She is known for the great caverns she claims and fills with wax sculptures. Any shady nook she can find that does not serve another purpose receives one of her pieces, each one made of wax from her beehives.

Shula loves her bees, almost as much as she loves her own children. She is a devoted beekeeper, and she is careful to set hives near the local wildflower fields that dot the mountains in spring. Brightwork, her mate, sometimes worries about her long flights that take her to the hives, but she insists that they need her and the trip is worth the effort.

She also lends her hand where she is able in the protection of Oakrest. She uses her fire magic to enchant clothing for the hunters, so that they are wreathed in flame when they head down to Cairnstone. She has quite a few different spells at her command, and she is careful to make sure Torch, Hodges, and Ink are ready for whatever fight may come their way.

On occasion, she smiths items for the clan, but it really isn't where her heart lies. She is prone to be asked for something very utilitarian and wind up making something of the same function but far more whimsical. She simply cannot stop her art, even if she tried.

Regarding the other imperials who call Oakrest home, Shula finds them amiable but not really worth investing the effort of friendship. Meadowtouch is too fey, and Bernice is a bit stand-offish by her own rights.

By and large, Shula is happy in Oakrest. She is glad her skills are useful and that others find her work enjoyable, even if it is a bit odd. She hopes to have filled an entire cavern with the likenesses of her clanmates by the time she dies, but it will take very many more seasons for the bees to make that much wax. Perhaps she won't make it. She's come to terms with that.



It was dawn when Shula set out to tend the bees.

It was two dusks later by the time Blackshore found her. By then, it was too late.

Hurriedly, the imperials of Oakrest were called - Shearwater from the shores, Meadowtouch from his reclusive valley, and Calque, Jupiter, and Camille from the tunnels and surrounding ruins. Four of them lifted their fallen clanmate as the fifth flew ahead to scout for a proper resting place. Brightwork looked on, his heart breaking to not say a final goodbye while his love still drew breath.

He watched until there was no more to see. Blackshore stood beside him as the stars drew into view against the velvet night. And he wept - bitterly and openly, keening into the night - as the Guardian of the Stones stood watch.

In three days' time, the imperials returned with a tuft of rust-red scales to be interred in Shula's honor. Sangue accepted them with the gravity of his station.

By then, Brightwork's final nest had hatched - five eggs that should have been raised with his mate. Five little hatchlings who reminded him all too much of her.

He grew quieter, almost silent for how many things he wanted to say but couldn't. When he tried to speak, the words were broken, the sentences cracked asunder. His own cousins tried their best to comfort him in his grief, but as none had taken a mate, none could know what pain he had.

Clarion offered, sometimes, to take the children under her wing. She argued that Brightwork had so much healing to do, certainly a nest of five would be too much for him. But as much as it hurt to be near them, Brightwork could not bear to be parted from them, as it felt like losing Shula all over again.

He did everything he could for them, teaching them stitches and dye processes, tailoring and fit, and everything there was to know about his craft. And he tried so much to be there for them, even as his own heart was breaking, knowing they would go the way all his children had gone - out into the world to make their marks.

They would fly off without him. And he would, again, be alone.



Eventually, the pressures of expectation became too much for him and he parted from the lair of his birth. However, the harsh and sudden sunlight was like a dagger to his damaged eyes. For all that he had felt suffocated by the pressures of his family, Melchior started to realize then just how much his father must have sheltered him after the accident. Even if he was grateful, though, Melchior was not his siblings. He could not mend and understand others as his brother could, could not match his sister's patience and love. He loved but could not forget that his father continued to live in the past, a time when his mother still tended the bees that his sister now cared for but when he and his clutch-mates were nothing more than a vague idea, a set of blank templates to draw somebody else's ideals over the dragons they grown into.

This bitterness could separate them -would separate them. And that is why Melchior had left first, because for all the love and burden, there was enough a martyr in him to not think that when faced with the awful abyss of somebody else's grief, he would rather fly free to the gentle ignorance that he would not do the same.

Stumbling blindly around the rocks of Dragonhome, he was found not far from the Pillar of the World by the abbess Spica, who brought him to the territory of Clan Maserift. Still young, the older dragons of the clan refused to let him wander back out by himself, not because of his disability, the young dragon found, but simply out of morality since he had neither home nor god to return to. As the Clan Maserift dragons discussed who should take him in, their leader, Adhara quietly made her way to his side.

Melchior stood still, having shrank away from the older dragons. It was when she began speaking that he realized she meant to address him. The others debated on.

"My family is known to carry illness in our blood," she said, almost conversationally. The imperial spoke quietly enough that he instinctively leaned in to hear her better. "I don't have any children."

There was nobody else around. With his feeble eyes, Melchior combed the shadows around them to be sure. Chancellor Adhara was a great mass of hazy blues and white. It was hard to miss her. He had to wonder how nobody else had noticed them huddled together in the corner. Tentatively, he tasted the air. Adhara smelled of salt -of the sea. Melchior had always told that Shula had been born to fire.

"She died before we hatched," he muttered, tones of water and earth comfortably perfuming their little corner of the great caves. Maybe this was not the only part that felt as such. Maybe the rest was like this, too. "I don't have a mother."

A pause. "But I would take a child," Adhara said in that same tone. "If only he would let me." He studied that voice and realized that she was not an old dragon. He had siblings older than her, surely. She could have had children, if only.

The young dragon was silent. The breeze was dancing through the lair with the building scent of a young thunderstorm. There was water in motion, the rolling sounds of it moving in opposition to the flickers of fires that kept the cave lit. Somewhere, children were playing. Elsewhere, a group of old dragons were sharing old songs from the hearts of very different lands.

Was it strange that he had made up his mind to leave home, only to come back to a lair not so different? Not so far away? He felt foolish -foolish and young but not sorry in the least. The dragons here were different. The caves here were different. That swaying veil of water and earth held him. He wanted to know.

He nodded at last with the admission, "I've always wanted a mother."

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