Peony

Oakrest's Citadel has many entrances, some only known to its residents. The most famous, of course, is the one found in a box canyon and covered in mountain oaks, grown strong after many years under Murphy's watchful eye. The imposing gates are guarded by keen observers, most noted for keeping visitors out and keeping their relics in.

On the sun-parched road that leads to the Citadel, however, on the route of many traders and mercenaries, is a humble structure built of stone and rammed earth. It is enough apart that none would confuse it as part of the Citadel, yet close enough to sit in the protective shadow of Oakrest's myriad fighters.

The little building is whitewashed against the desert heat, and a small rivulet nearby provides water. There is an herb garden, irrigated and meticulously tended, which can be seen around the merry fence. Its path up to the front door is a mass of cobblestones lined with succulents for a cheery green among the searing gold light of Dragonhome, and posted on a sign for all to see are the words:

Then, below, in smaller script, as if in challenge to the Citadel itself, the motto:

Though his parents called he and his sibling "sisters" for a long time, he associated more strongly with a masculine identity, though he doesn't feel comfortable with the binary system or think that he has a true place within it. Few understand how he can identify with the masculine without wanting to fully be male, and this is one of the many aspects of his life that serves as a source of anxiety.

He hates feeling anxious more than anything, yet he is unable to silence his worries, and they eat at him constantly, both mentally and physically. He has bitten his forelimb claws to bluntness, and he sports patches of missing feathers due to constant nervous preening and unnatural molting brought on by excessive stress. His father tried to help him by teaching him to meditate, and his mother shared the strategies she used to combat her own anxiety, but no techniques he attempted seemed to alleviate his uneasiness.

He didn't want his life to be defined by anxiety, though. He wanted to be useful, to branch out and do things and travel places. Through helping his father and other dragons in the gardens and orchards and researching brewing processes in the library, he came to realize he had an interest in the making and mixing of drinks. He finds nearly every step of the process soothing to his nerves, and he loves the methodical thrill of turning various ingredients into a delectable beverage as much as he delights in watching other dragons enjoy his creations. After practicing his craft and honing his talent at Tiresias Tavern in Lantern Port under the watchful eye of the innkeeper, he even dared to move to Oakrest and build his skills in a new environment.

Some days, though, his anxiety flares up, and he bemoans that he ever allowed himself to pursue his passion. What if a dragon is allergic to something in the drink he mixed them? What if this ingredient proves poisonous to a different breed? Had he allowed the fermentation process to go on too long? Did those dragons really like what he served them, or were they just being polite? They probably loathed their drinks and were just too kind to say it to his face, though he was sure they were talking about him over there in the corner, commenting on his frayed feathers and his lackluster beverages.

Though he was never able to lose his anxiety in the meditation practices his father taught him, he can sometimes cause it to abate with a good distraction. He easily loses himself in the arts - an engrossing story, a beautiful song, a graceful dance. Though he usually avoids crowds, he makes an exception for performances, for they are one of the few things that allow him to transcend his condition.