Camillus
(#33007024)
Level 1 Fae
Familiar
Spellbound Golem
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Fae
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
1.26 m
Wingspan
0.73 m
Weight
2.5 kg
Genetics
Rose
Metallic
Metallic
Antique
Alloy
Alloy
Pistachio
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Fae
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Biography
NOT FOR SALE, TRADE, OR LENDING
CAVEAT: abusive relationship
CAVEAT: abusive relationship
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Camillus
{ ka - MIL - lus } Nickname: Cam ♦ AH Purchase 
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮ Private Storms (written by Disillusionist) ♫ onoken feat. Saira - Albaforia ♫ ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ |
Camillus hailed from the Viridian Labyrinth, and to his young eyes, the Southern Icefield was a place of alien beauty. Always before he had been phlegmatic, almost apathetic — now he felt the first stirrings of awe within him. He found himself inspired by the clear frigidity of ice crystals, the pure whiteness of snow. With clumsy claws — and, later, growing confidence — he tried his hand at making jewelry, simple crafts influenced by the artifacts he studied. Although he was not spectacularly talented, he was able to sell some of them for a modest price.
His ambition was piqued. Was it possible that he had a future as more than just a stuffy old appraiser? By then he was nearing the end of his studies, and arrangements were made for him to head home afterwards. If there was more to his future than appraising antiques, he would have to find out later rather than sooner. Then perhaps...
The day of departure came. There had been a storm the day before, but the ship was fleet, her captain confident. And Camillus was anxious to be home. He paced back and forth belowdecks, shivering in his furs. It was only when he heard the commotion from above that he clambered topside to join the crew.
There had been rumors that the storm had wrecked some ships. Perhaps this was one of the survivors: a bedraggled Skydancer found clinging, unconscious, to a slab of ice floating in the frigid sea. The crew murmured suspiciously as they brought her aboard, though, and Camillus saw why: She was dressed in rough-looking furs, including a cloak that covered most of her face. She didn't look like a wholesome or honorable dragoness.
"A pirate?" some of the sailors asked. Others hissed, "A raider, a wrecker." — perchance washed out to sea when the storm had smashed the coast.
"A castaway." The Captain's pronouncement quieted them all. They looked at the Imperial with skeptical eyes, but did not gainsay her.
And so the Skydancer came aboard as a patient. She was not a tractable one: When she awoke some hours later, she snarled and bit, speaking in a guttural dialect, probably one used by the wilder tribes of the Southern Icefield. The surgeon on board was a stalwart Guardian, but even she found herself hard-pressed to care for the patient when her assistants began making themselves scarce.
In desperation one day she cast her eye around — and she saw Camillus hovering curiously by the door. "You there, perhaps you could assist me," she said to him. "Perhaps she will not feel as threatened by one smaller than herself."
Quiet, retiring Camillus was never one to refuse. He stepped forward. Although the rogue Skydancer did calm down, she did not become civil. Once her words were deciphered, she professed not to remember anything about herself — or else she would not tell. The surgeon noted that she had indeed received a concussion; whether this was responsible for her amnesia, her viciousness, or both, or neither was entirely up to debate. She remained a sullen, unpleasant creature, and only Camillus, the surgeon, and the Captain dared to speak with her — Camillus with more eagerness as the days passed. He had found himself drawn to the wildness and frigid beauty of the Southern Icefield when he'd first arrived there, and this untamed Skydancer seemed to embody those qualities. He decided he wanted to get to know her better. Surely as she got used to him, their relationship would improve; maybe they could even become friends....
The ship sailed on. The surgeon and the Captain noted the inordinate amount of time the passengers were spending with each other, and they did not approve. By then, the patient had acquired a name: Floe, after the slab of ice she'd been clinging to. It was a fitting name, too, for no matter how warmly and kindly Camillus treated her, she never thawed. The surgeon grunted and turned away. Her work was finished; what happened after was none of her concern. But the Captain sighed and looked on with pity. She had been fortunate enough to find a love that was good and true — but she did not think Camillus would be as lucky.
When the Viridian Labyrinth appeared on the horizon, Camillus made a momentous decision. He hoped to take Floe back to his home clan. Perhaps in time, she would grow to appreciate him, maybe even love him....He relayed his plan to the Captain, asking her if she would keep Floe on her ship while he went to speak with his family. Then he went away, his heart beating hard, clutching a crystal he had infused with a hologram of his beloved. He would show it to his family; maybe they would fall in love with her, too, as he had done....
They were wary of his decision at first. And as they listened, their unease changed to outrage. "We are respectable drakes," Camillus' grandsire declared, "and we will not have you marrying some nameless vagrant from the Southern Icefield! Look at those eyes, Camillus." He gestured at the hologram, his fins quivering with suppressed rage. "Were you not trained to spot her type? That's a berserker if I ever saw one!"
Camillus recalled the sailors' suspicious whispers, the frowns of the surgeon and the Captain. He recalled, too, how Floe would growl and strike at him.... "No, she is ill," he protested, as he had protested to others many times before. Making excuses. Downplaying the situation... "She'll get better, I'm sure she will!"
His family was not fooled. They implored him to see how unstable Floe was, that he could not change her. But Camillus would not see, and now he would not hear. At dusk he returned to the ship, his wings and fins drooping despondently.
He asked for passage aboard the ship again, and the Captain, surprised, asked him why. "Anywhere," he answered dully, "for my family will not have her and me be together."
The Captain took pity on him again. "It is late in the year," she said, "and I am about to return home. My clan is in the Sunbeam Ruins, and we have spare rooms for your and your...companion. Perhaps you could spend some time there while you think things over." She went on to assure him that he didn't need to worry about payment: He had his skills as an appraiser and could be of use to the clan. He and Floe could ride out the winter together and perhaps they could ask around the Sunbeam Ruins...maybe find a way to treat her...if, indeed, her behavior was due to an injury....
Camillus spoke with Floe about it: "It's a temporary place...but a place for us, nonetheless. Perhaps when the weather turns warmer we can strike out on our own, seek another clan...."
She only sniffed and turned away. Camillus' misgivings grew, but he felt that it was too late to back out now. The Captain's offer was likely to be the only one he'd receive in a long time. He agreed to return to the Ruins with her and work together with her clan.
The Captain’s name was Mara, and she and her crew were welcomed by the Disillusionists. After the crew had all been paid and taken their leave, attention turned to Camillus and Floe. The Skydancer had improved — though not much. Although she had learned to communicate more clearly, her ferocity had not abated one whit. Even just standing, she was as taut as a drawn knife — and as obviously capable of quick violence.
Camillus had changed a bit, too. He had learned to speak up more often, though sadly he tended to do so only for the sake of his companion, and not really for himself. With some input from Mara, he explained why he could no longer return to his family and what services he wanted to offer to the clan.
“Of course you may both stay,” said Veritas, one of the clan leaders. She was not a naturally eloquent dragon, and her training seemed to have momentarily deserted her. She eyed Floe dubiously, but said not another word.
The clan dispersed on various errands. Later on, there would be an informal gathering to welcome Camillus and Floe to the lair, but until then, the dragons were free. One of the housekeepers appeared, advising him that he and Floe now had to choose their rooms and settle in. Camillus supposed that choosing a room would be easy; it was a large lair. But settling in...He hoped it wouldn’t take too long.
He tried so hard. Sometimes, even now, it still hurts him to remember it....
He could never seem to do anything right. His new clan might have been able to help mitigate the situation, but shortly after moving in, Floe decided that the lair was too crowded; there were too many dragons, too much noise. So they found a private den outside the clan’s territory, and there they took up residence. Camillus dutifully reported to the Disillusionists’ lair for his work each day, and at first, it seemed all was well. Indeed, Floe seemed more at ease once she had a den to call her own. Sometimes she was even playful with Camillus — almost affectionate. Almost.
He remembers the first time she struck him. He couldn’t even remember what the disagreement was about — which could actually be said for nearly all the times they argued. What he does remember best is the blood welling up from the scratches on his arm, and looking in bewilderment up at his beloved. Before he could see her eyes, she was bowing her head, declaring that she hadn’t meant it; it had been a mistake. He, with his soft and tender heart, had forgiven her immediately.
It was too easy: an apology, and some words of reassurance...The peace would descend again. And it would stay. Until the next time...
They eventually had children together. Their hatchlings were beautiful, fair children with touches of green, as hopeful as fresh buds peeking through frost. Most of them eagerly heeded the Lightweaver’s call to serve, but a few found homes in other clans. Camillus loved them deeply, whatever their vocations were, but Floe was disdainful of those who shied away from combat. “Soft, frail things,” she growled at one point. The hatchlings shrank from her, instinctively hiding beneath their father’s wings. The Fae could barely shield them, and he definitely couldn’t stop the words that came next: “Weak and mewling. Just like your father...”
Camillus always did his best to shield their children from such hurtful words, and as a result, he ended up bearing the brunt of his volatile mate’s fury. When the children were old enough, they always left, and then he would be alone with Floe again.
Camillus never spoke of the trials he faced at home, but word got out all the same. Faced with suspicion from other dragons — or perhaps for other inscrutable reasons of her own — Floe took to wandering away from the lair. Her favorite haunts were tidepools and lonesome cliffs by the coast, and though chances of encountering other dragons were slim, she occasionally did meet somebody. These meetings were not usually pleasant — Camillus began to hear of how she picked fights with or attacked other dragons.
It had been many years since she had been plucked from the offshore waters of the Southern Icefield; he could no longer claim that her behavior was due to disorientation and illness. The Disillusionists, who had never lost sight of their two troubled clanmates, began discussing options for removing Floe, perhaps admitting her into an asylum or sending her away for treatment. They did reach out to Camillus, but he only retreated from them, saying that nothing was wrong; it was nothing they couldn’t handle together. “We are doing well,” he always protested. “It isn’t affecting my work in the slightest, and see, our children have grown to be successful dragons in their own right! It’s not a problem you should be concerned with.”
He was lying. They all knew it; it was just that he needed to accept it. But he never did. Instead, his hand was forced.
Floe arrived home one afternoon. It was a bit earlier than usual; she had been driven away from the sea by a gathering storm. Camillus immediately saw that there’d been trouble; there was a telltale glint in her eyes.
“You’ve come back early. Did something happen?” he inquired. And then more tentatively, when she didn’t answer: “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” Though her speech was now easier to understand, Floe still retained her rough accent — or perhaps her voice was simply a perpetual snarl. She sprawled in front of the fireplace and tugged her furs tighter around herself. As she did, Camillus noticed a bruise on her upper forelimb.
He leaned forward in concern. “What happened to you? Did you fall? I’ll get some medicine —”
“Be quiet!” The shout came suddenly as Floe rose to her feet. Camillus immediately backed away, but she was already moving, her claws extended. “You’re talking, always talking. Did I ask you to speak? Did I?”
He knew what was coming next. He could only cover his head with his arms and wait for it to be over.
A group of passing fishers, also hurrying away from the storm, heard the commotion. They knocked on the door and called out, asking if everything was all right. Inside the den, Floe turned, her eyes blazing. She shoved Camillus aside and then bounded out through the back door.
And he chased after her. The wind was already picking up, dark clouds swirling ominously overhead. Camillus flinched away instinctively, and Floe slipped away from him, her furs flapping around her, wings spreading as she gathered air.
“It’s not safe! Come back!” He clung to the doorframe, fighting against the wind. “Come back!”
She didn’t come back. It was the last time he ever saw her, and his last memory was of her soaring away into the darkness, her back turned resolutely towards him.
It was some hours before the storm passed. Afterwards, efforts were made to find Floe, but there was no sign of her, or if there was, nobody came forward with the information. Other unfortunate dragons had been lost on that same night, and it was eventually assumed that she had joined those other missing souls.
Camillus was broken by her desertion. When other dragons came to call, he lacked the strength to offer the same explanations or protests as before, and they were now able to enter the den and take a closer look at him. One of the Disillusionists’ hatchling caretakers gently lifted his chin, trying to get a response from him. He nearly flinched back when he saw she was another Skydancer — but she was as pearlescent as he was, and her eyes were kind. That warmth...He’d never seen it in his mate’s gaze. His numb shell began to crack, and finally he could weep, leaning into the matron’s feathered wings.
Camillus was taken back to the Disillusionists’ lair. His clan was able to take better care of him now, treating his injuries, seeing that he ate and slept regularly. His body recovered soon enough; it would take his heart longer to heal. In his mind, he had failed to give his mate everything she’d needed; that was why she’d always been so critical, why she’d eventually left him. Camillus, mediocre and average Camillus, had been a failure as a mate and a father.
There was one thing he could do well, or so his clan declared to him: They still needed his skills as an appraiser. He was a huge help to the clan’s craftsdrakes and inventorists; they wanted him to continue working for them. Would he do it?
With a heavy sigh, he went back to work. He was given an apartment of his own, where he could receive customers and store things that were for sale.
He immersed himself in his work. It did help, most of the time. He received strange artifacts from equally mysterious lands, and for long moments, he could lose himself in the wonder of them, of examining and cataloguing and calculating. He began to take small pride in his store and always made sure things were carefully organized, displayed to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible, the better to attract customers....
One mannequin gave him pause. It was meant to stand in a tailor’s shop, and it took the form of a graceful Skydancer frozen in mid-leap, waiting to be clothed.
By then, it had been many months since Floe had disappeared. Camillus was still deeply scarred by what he’d gone through, however: Could he have done things differently? What had he done wrong? Should he have tried harder? Could he had tried harder?
He made some effort to dress the mannequin, using necklaces and bracelets he had made himself. When he had no work to do and his mind began sinking again, he turned to his old hobby of handcrafting jewelry. It gave him something else to work on, something to worry about, that temporarily eclipsed his greater grievances....
He finished dressing the mannequin and then stepped back with a sigh. Outside, it had begun to rain. He could see shapes moving; probably customers....He settled back behind the counter and tried to compose himself.
It was only his lairmates: Aloysius the Fire Snapper and Faustino, Captain Mara’s mate. Probably coming in just to chat, maybe try to entice him to go out drinking or eating with them. Camillus wasn’t really in the mood.
“Not too busy today, are you, Camillus?” asked the Snapper. Camillus couldn’t hold back a sigh — there it was again, the all-too-obvious invitation.
“We could use your help with something,” Aloysius continued. Camillus’ first thought was that they needed him to appraise something for them, probably something they wanted to use in their projects. It turned out to be a lot different, though.
“We could use someone of your expertise, especially with the finer points of metalworking,” Aloysius said. He was speaking more eagerly now, his orange eyes ablaze with excitement. Beside him, Faustino nodded his fearsome head. “And it’s not like you have anything better to d—”
Camillus ignored the Imperial’s strangled yelp as Aloysius’ foot smashed his toes. He knew full well what Faust had been about to say. It’s not like you have anything better to do.
Hadn’t that always been right? Mediocre and retiring Camillus — even his appraisal business was at a standstill. If he said “no”, then that would be the end of it. Aloysius and Faustino would lumber out into the rain, leaving him alone to stare at the cluttered room....
The mannequin still stood next to the counter. Faustino had complimented its jewelry, but Camillus only felt cold when he looked at it again. Suddenly the thought of being alone in the room with it...It filled him with dread. It was a sadly familiar feeling.
So he looked at the larger dragons instead. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. What do we have to do?” he asked. Aloysius and Faustino leaned forward, and he listened as they began to speak. Something about a bet, a lot of gems, and building an automaton...
continued ►
Credits & Notes:
• Dividers by osiem.
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