Oliver
(#33142242)
Level 1 Pearlcatcher
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Pearlcatcher
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.46 m
Wingspan
4.39 m
Weight
674.03 kg
Genetics
Grey
Basic
Basic
Coal
Spinner
Spinner
Shale
Okapi
Okapi
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
Oliver Finn Leary
| ................ |
T H E M E
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool."
-Isaiah 1:18
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool."
-Isaiah 1:18
╭- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ABOUT --- -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -╮
The smell of blood was all around him, but he knew not of what it was or that his family was being slaughtered. He was only two years old, and the world he knew was nothing but sound. His blind eyes saw nothing. The sounds that surrounded him; the screams, the growls, the pain filled whimpers and moans, terrified him. It was a terror that froze him to the core so that not even his jaw muscles would work to release the scream that so badly wanted to escape him. It became worse when those sounds stopped. All he could hear now was slow, heavy breathing, the sound growing louder as whatever it was grew closer until hot breath gusted his face. The heat of the breathing grew unbearably close. Even at his age, he knew it should have been the end, but nothing happened for a full minute. Suddenly, warm, furry arms picked him up, and he was forced to go wherever this creature was taking him.| .. |
A curious and happy child, he was given the name Oliver by the werewolf that killed his family. He lived a solitary life with the older man, named Donavin, but that did not bother him. He was content to stay in the cabin with the occasional ventures outdoors when his 'father' was able to take him out. His days were spent reading after Donavin took the time to learn and teach him braille, and his nights were spent cuddled up next to his father who usually smelled of blood - a smell he still had no clue what it meant, but to him it was comforting.
Oliver could not ask for more in his content life, but that life could not last. One night while cuddling, his father pushed him into hiding on the side of the chair farthest from the door. Knowing he was suppose to stay there no matter what, he did just that, even when the room was filled with the sounds of footsteps, yelling, then gunshots. The sounds ended, and after a minute of silence and being unable to wait any longer, he crawled back onto the chair and into the lap of his father, the smell he had come to love filling his nose. The next thing he knew, he was being pulled away from his dead father, and no amount of kicking and screaming could bring him back to the safety of the blood soaked man.
The next three weeks were spent refusing to speak or listen to anyone, but eventually he came out from behind his wall. He learned that the man he had come to know as his father had killed over a hundred people, including his birth family. At first he had trouble grasping all of this, but as he grew older he came to understand and even accept all he learned. Even knowing all he did, he still loved the man who had taken him in, and it would always hurt knowing he would never be with him again.
One of the things he learned was that as a child, his father's only friend had been a priest. Donavin spoke to that priest before his death, and following a last request, the priest adopted Oliver. It took awhile for him to get used to everything, but Oliver came to enjoy living with the Father and learning all he could. He not only took on school subjects, but he also learned about being a priest. It was what he wanted to be when he grew up, he decided.
His decision became reality, and with this faith he found he had more sight than most of those that could see. His God showed him everything he needed.
With his priesthood came challenges. The first challenge came with who he decided to preach to. He chose to visit prison and visit with inmates. Thanks to his father, he understood evil actions in a way that most could not, and he felt everyone deserved a chance to cleanse themselves. This was not always easy, but it was fulfilling. There were times when the inmates caused trouble or even tried to hurt him, finding him an easy target due to his blindness, but some of them were also fond of him and affectionately gave him the nickname of Father Scarecrow due to his straw-like hair and unsettling gaze.
The second challenge came when he was visiting, not a prison, but an asylum. There he was met with a catatonic teen, Achmetha, who reacted to nothing, yet when he touched him, the boy turned his head and smiled. This was promising, so he continued to visit with Achmetha. It took months to get more of a reaction from him, but with time the boy began to move more and even began to speak. A year later, Oliver took the teenager home with him, and Achmetha's recovery sped up thanks to feeling safe in the church.
A new challenge was now presenting itself. A bloodsucking monster born of evil that was hellbent on destroying all that was good and pure. He knew he had to destroy this evil, but there was also his acolyte to keep safe, so it was not going to be easy. He could not see, and Achmetha was young and vulnerable, but he would not lose faith, and he would win.
The true test had begun.
..╰
Biography layout by Zarane
Art by onionbulb
Donavin stepped quietly into the living room after putting food in the oven. The boy, his adopted son, was sitting on the floor reading, his fingers running across the pages of a book to feel the dots that formed words. Braille books were not easy for someone like him to get, but he managed to get his hands on a few and was always searching for more. He had also taken the time to learn braille as a way to better bond with the child. It also helped that they had learned the language together.
Bending down, he picked up Oliver and the book then sat down in a chair. “What are you reading?”
Oliver had not taken his finger off the book, but he smiled at the attention he was being given. “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Have you read it, papa?” His finger stopped moving so he could concentrate on the conversation, another question coming to mind. "Is that where my middle name comes from?"
“I have, and it is.” It was one of the books he read as a child and one that he remembered most. He spent his childhood reading, so not many books stuck out at him since he had read hundreds during his younger years. He still did read quite a bit.
The two of them grew silent, with Donavin waiting on the food and the boy continuing his reading. A half an hour past when the older male felt his muscles tighten. A moment later, he narrowed his eyes, listening to a sounds that were coming from outside. It took only a couple of seconds for him to realize what it was, and he closed his eyes in defeat, opening them a moment later. Gently he removed the book from the boy’s fingers and set him on the ground. He set the book on the table next to him, his other hand guiding the boy to hide on the side of the chair that was farthest from the door. He let out a shush sound, indicating for the boy to be quiet no matter what. Once he was sure the boy was crouched and hidden from sight, his amber gaze locked on the door.
The sound of people could be heard outside, along with the slamming of car doors. He could smell fear, gunpowder, and determination. Knocking sounded at the door. He ignored both that and the the words the FBI agents were shouting and continued to sit in the chair, both hands on the armrests. It was no use running, so they could have him so long as they took care of his son. The boy would have found out about him eventually.
Wood splintered as the door was kicked open. Donavin stared at the guns that were pointed at his chest, his fingers twitching. Someone was saying something that he did not register. He could only hear the sound of blood pumping through their veins. Lips curling in a snarl, his nails darkened and elongated, tufts of fur began to sprout from his arms, teeth grew larger and more deadly. When he made to stand, the room was filled with the sound of gunfire, and he dropped back down into the chair, feeling life ebb away.
The silence after was more deafening than the firing of the guns. It stretched on for what felt like an eternity but was really only a few seconds. Not long after the quiet moment, Oliver emerged from his hiding spot.
“Papa?” When he was given no answer, and choosing not to hear what the other people in the room were saying to him, he crawled into his father’s lap, not fully comprehending the situation. “Papa?” He cuddled closer, even as Donavin’s blood seeped into his clothes.
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