RainbowVeins » Hibernal Den » Estella

Estella

(#34509023)

Level 1 Veilspun

Familiar

Stonestomp Spearmaiden

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

0.87 m

Wingspan

0.8 m

Weight

1.82 kg

Genetics

Hatchday

Jul 17, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Veilspun

Eye Type

Water
Common

Level 1 Veilspun

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Sam
Izabella

Offspring

Biography

E S T E L L A

2nd in command • Caretaker

_____________________

B I O G R A P H Y

You enter the parlor hesitantly. It is pristine and nearly blindingly white. The curtains, the carpet, the furniture, all spotless. The woman sitting in front of you is red. From her stick-straight hair to her skin and neat dress, she is every bit as consistent, and every bit in contrast, to her surroundings. You imagine, for a moment, that vivid red spreading across the room, staining the fabrics and dyeing the world crimson.

You think you may be afraid of her.

She sits primly on her (white) settee, legs crossed, watching you impassively. If she noticed your moment of inattention, she does not indicate it. She angles her head slightly to acknowledge you, as if to say, speak.

She knows why you are here. You are not sure why you believe this, but you are certain beyond doubt.

You speak. As you do so, a small movement from her brings something to your attention. She is not entirely red. Rather, small bits of her - the hem of her dress, the back of her wrist, the curve of her cheekbone - shimmer, iridescently, when the light hits them, bringing out a rich, dark green. Rather like mother-of-pearl, if mother-of-pearl was tall and cold and capable of making you squirm under its gaze.

Her eyes are shaded from you as she listens. They are very dark, and while not hidden by her hair, they are unreadable. Her hair...glows, slightly, and two curved horns that shine like metal reflect this light, ever-so-slightly.

You finish saying your piece, concluding with your request for assistance. There is a brief pause, as she allows you to collect yourself, and then she nods firmly. She produces a pocketbook, presumably from a pocket in her dress (you fail to notice that her dress does not have pockets, and the pocketbook surreptitiously appeared from thin air in her hand), and opens it, drawing out a pen and a black business card. She writes something on the back, then hands the card to you. "This," she says, "should be of use to you. Present the card at this address and state your request, and they will assist."

You accept the card and take a breath, about to thank her profusely, but the steel in her eyes stops you. Instead, you offer a nod and a "thank you," to which she simply nods again. You stand and leave the parlor, flipping the card over in your hands to inspect the address inscribed in gold on its front, and the signature neatly signed on the back.

The factory is enormous. You were not sure what to expect, or rather, you were not given enough information to expect...anything. But you are struck, first, by one thing - the factory is gold.

You have heard about the golden spires of the Shifting Expanse, but this is not the Expanse, merely your city's industrial district, the building sandwiched between one dull skyscraper and the next. You enter the shining gates and arrive at the front desk- also gold, accented by a peacock green. Someone is at the desk, typing away at a typewriter - they look up when you enter. They're dressed simply, aside from the gleaming gold buttons on their coveralls. You present the card, as you were instructed, and make your request. They brighten at the card, say they'll be right back, and disappear through a massive pair of double doors.

You cannot see into that room, so you would have no idea of what was back there. If, however, you were following that clerk, you might enter a massive factory, machines clattering and clanking away, producing like their lives depended on it. You also might see the tall man circulating between work stations, overseeing the workers and making small talk. A man who, despite it not strictly being his role, will gladly help work the bellows or unstick some machinery. He's clad in a red vest and dress shirt, accented by striking golden buttons and rolled up at the elbows - his formal coat discarded somewhere he can't remember. His face, slightly paler than crimson, is flushed from the heat of the furnaces in the room. Long, dark, twisting horns emerge from his neatly-enough tied-back hair, which still manages to escape from its bun somehow. Someone tells a crude joke, and despite himself, he lets out a chuckle.

Of course, you can't see all of that, so you seat yourself in a peacock chair and let your eyes rove around the room while you wait. Soon enough, the worker emerges with what you requested and presents it to you. "Will that be all?" they ask, cocking their head slightly. You nod and smile, thanking them for their effort, and make your way back home, marveling at the day you've had and casting glances back at the golden gates.

B I O G R A P H Y

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Bio template by Mibella, find it here.

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0/1000

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Estella to the service of the Stormcatcher 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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