Talan
(#34160768)
Of course I love an angel. honestly
Familiar
Chillriver Bucktooth
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.35 m
Wingspan
4.52 m
Weight
695.59 kg
Genetics
Clay
Skink
Skink
Robin
Butterfly
Butterfly
Robin
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Wildclaw
EXP: 1285 / 16009
STR
7
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Biography
Captain of the Wicked Lady, following his wanderlust for adventure on the high seas
It is too early for the sun to have risen and the seas are deceptively calm.
Talan climbs the stairs to the quarterdeck by taking two at a time, eyes locking onto the horizon. The sky is red. He can already imagine the grumbling about it and anticipates being informed at least thrice before breakfast that they all ought to beware.
He comes to a halt by the railing. Talan breathes in deep, holds it for a moment, and exhales. His blood is abuzz. Down from the main deck comes the familiar sounds of his crewmates shaking off the morning lull, quiet chattering meshing with the gentle croon of waves against the hull.
“I smell—” Talan inhales deeply once more, “—excitement. Adventure.”
Hopefully, he’s right. Talan is losing his mind with the boredom that’s festered on the Wicked Lady the last few days, nothing but fine weather and polite strangers. Not a single corrupt government official to raid.
It’s horrible.
“That smell is seaweed, not adventure,” a familiar voice calls.
Whatever morose mood had tried to settle over Talan evaporates like dewdrops under the midday sun. He is smiling, warmth blooming in his chest, and turns to greet Mikhael as the other slinks up the stairs.
The curious light of the morning makes Mikhael look otherworldly.
Talan would have likened it to gold, but Mikhael cannot be compared to something so dull, and all the treasure he has collected and distributed during his time as notorious pirate Captain pales in comparison to Mikhael; the most precious thing Talan could ever have.
Not that he’ll say that, specifically. Talan prefers to express his adoration with snark and teasing alongside a dash of affectionate love.
“Seaweed can be an adventure,” is what Talan says in turn, once he’s gathered his wits. He forcibly drags his thoughts back to the present time. Mikhael looks wholly unimpressed with him and it has Talan’s grin widening. “As the most experienced adventurer around, I’d say my expertise on this matter greatly outweighs your grumpy opinion.”
Mikhael halts beside him. The sun is not yet up, but he already looks thoroughly done with Talan’s tomfoolery. Bits and pieces of conversation float up from the main deck. It is one of those moments Talan wishes he could pluck from reality and keep with him forever.
Which he will also never say, but he thinks it. The hopelessly fond look on Mikhael’s face makes Talan suspect he knows.
The sky has gone from bruised to red as fresh blood, ominous in its intensity.
Mikhael shifts and Talan entirely fails to remain focused, the bone-deep itch of restlessness churning in his belly. He longs to move, to run and fight and cause delightful mayhem, but is left standing in the brief chill that still clings to the morning air. The sounds of the ship coming to life grows more prominent.
“... I suppose you’re just too short to get it.” Talan says, breaking the silence, and it is no surprise that he cracked first. Standing idly by is not his favorite pastime. Needling Mikhael until he snaps, on the other hand, is one of his favorite pastimes. “It’s okay. I understand.”
The reaction is instant and Talan does not hide his snort of laughter as Mikhael whips around, eyes narrowed into a glare. “You watch it,” he hisses. “I know where you sleep.”
“Given that I usually sleep in your bed, I’d hope so,” Talan fires back. Mikhael’s glare intensifies, somehow, and Talan finds the whole thing equal parts funny and beautiful—no one wears fury as nicely as Mikhael. It is a mystery how Mikhael manages to look so poised and graceful, yet entirely murderous.
Mikhael turns away with a huff some heartbeats later, gaze finding the sprawling ocean. The world is turning to gold as the sun crests the horizon.
Below, the ocean reaches for him, and Talan takes a breath. There is a thrumming wilderness in the seas, one Talan recognizes in himself most days, and the taste of saltwater lingers in the back of his throat.
“... adventure, huh?” Mikhael murmurs, whatever anger Talan had ignited in him long gone. He looks at Talan with a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Adventure,” Talan agrees and leans in, pressing his shoulder against Mikhael. And Mikhael gives an absent little hum, taking half a step closer, and turns back to the horizon. Daytime has rolled over them fully, the sky turned blue, and the ship is alive around them.
The wind picks up, carrying with it the faintest scent of smoke.
It smells like adventure.
Talan climbs the stairs to the quarterdeck by taking two at a time, eyes locking onto the horizon. The sky is red. He can already imagine the grumbling about it and anticipates being informed at least thrice before breakfast that they all ought to beware.
He comes to a halt by the railing. Talan breathes in deep, holds it for a moment, and exhales. His blood is abuzz. Down from the main deck comes the familiar sounds of his crewmates shaking off the morning lull, quiet chattering meshing with the gentle croon of waves against the hull.
“I smell—” Talan inhales deeply once more, “—excitement. Adventure.”
Hopefully, he’s right. Talan is losing his mind with the boredom that’s festered on the Wicked Lady the last few days, nothing but fine weather and polite strangers. Not a single corrupt government official to raid.
It’s horrible.
“That smell is seaweed, not adventure,” a familiar voice calls.
Whatever morose mood had tried to settle over Talan evaporates like dewdrops under the midday sun. He is smiling, warmth blooming in his chest, and turns to greet Mikhael as the other slinks up the stairs.
The curious light of the morning makes Mikhael look otherworldly.
Talan would have likened it to gold, but Mikhael cannot be compared to something so dull, and all the treasure he has collected and distributed during his time as notorious pirate Captain pales in comparison to Mikhael; the most precious thing Talan could ever have.
Not that he’ll say that, specifically. Talan prefers to express his adoration with snark and teasing alongside a dash of affectionate love.
“Seaweed can be an adventure,” is what Talan says in turn, once he’s gathered his wits. He forcibly drags his thoughts back to the present time. Mikhael looks wholly unimpressed with him and it has Talan’s grin widening. “As the most experienced adventurer around, I’d say my expertise on this matter greatly outweighs your grumpy opinion.”
Mikhael halts beside him. The sun is not yet up, but he already looks thoroughly done with Talan’s tomfoolery. Bits and pieces of conversation float up from the main deck. It is one of those moments Talan wishes he could pluck from reality and keep with him forever.
Which he will also never say, but he thinks it. The hopelessly fond look on Mikhael’s face makes Talan suspect he knows.
The sky has gone from bruised to red as fresh blood, ominous in its intensity.
Mikhael shifts and Talan entirely fails to remain focused, the bone-deep itch of restlessness churning in his belly. He longs to move, to run and fight and cause delightful mayhem, but is left standing in the brief chill that still clings to the morning air. The sounds of the ship coming to life grows more prominent.
“... I suppose you’re just too short to get it.” Talan says, breaking the silence, and it is no surprise that he cracked first. Standing idly by is not his favorite pastime. Needling Mikhael until he snaps, on the other hand, is one of his favorite pastimes. “It’s okay. I understand.”
The reaction is instant and Talan does not hide his snort of laughter as Mikhael whips around, eyes narrowed into a glare. “You watch it,” he hisses. “I know where you sleep.”
“Given that I usually sleep in your bed, I’d hope so,” Talan fires back. Mikhael’s glare intensifies, somehow, and Talan finds the whole thing equal parts funny and beautiful—no one wears fury as nicely as Mikhael. It is a mystery how Mikhael manages to look so poised and graceful, yet entirely murderous.
Mikhael turns away with a huff some heartbeats later, gaze finding the sprawling ocean. The world is turning to gold as the sun crests the horizon.
Below, the ocean reaches for him, and Talan takes a breath. There is a thrumming wilderness in the seas, one Talan recognizes in himself most days, and the taste of saltwater lingers in the back of his throat.
“... adventure, huh?” Mikhael murmurs, whatever anger Talan had ignited in him long gone. He looks at Talan with a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Adventure,” Talan agrees and leans in, pressing his shoulder against Mikhael. And Mikhael gives an absent little hum, taking half a step closer, and turns back to the horizon. Daytime has rolled over them fully, the sky turned blue, and the ship is alive around them.
The wind picks up, carrying with it the faintest scent of smoke.
It smells like adventure.
Bought from TeenyTK's lore shop
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Exalting Talan 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.
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