Sylverion » Hibernal Den » Nariene

Nariene

(#34553494)

Level 1 Snapper

Familiar

Budwing Morpho

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.67 m

Wingspan

2.49 m

Weight

5603.24 kg

Genetics

Banana
Skink

Banana
Spinner

Mantis
Runes

Hatchday

Jul 19, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Snapper

Eye Type

Nature
Common

Level 1 Snapper

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

Asaeria

Shrinemaiden

Loyal servant to the Lightweaver

With a heart of gold, Asaeria is what it truly means to be one with the Light. Her kindness knows no bounds, nor does her love for the Paladins who protect her so loyally. Though they are sworn to her, they are her nearest and dearest friends and companions; she would protect them to just as much of a dying fault as they her.
Quiet and gentle, Asaeria hears those who cannot speak and sees those who cannot be seen. Though she is a demure pacifist, she will stand up for those who need it; any who experience her raised voice know a line has been crossed.
She sees the best in all around her, even to a fault. Some may call her naive; others may say she is brave for seeing good in the world even when it is hard to find.

Something lost is never truly gone; only waiting to be found again.

Soft lavender would crack and give way to scales as dark as night, hiding within a soul of gold. Eyes that betrayed the light within, shining so brightly as they took in the world she was born into. She remembers not but shadows and blurs, kind voices and faces that fade from her memory like dust on the wind. It was a happy time, though it was short; a warm nest, a kind figure nearby, and the sound of flowing water.
Like all things, it came to an end.

Asaeria was taken from her nest not days after her hatching, in the cover of the night. Though her adopted Guardian mother would search for her, day and night, turning the entirety of the water domain upside down in search of the lost child, she would not be found. Hidden away, taken so soon from what she barely knew, she knew not that she did not belong; and soon, the memory of the home she should have was only as credible as a dream.
The Maren were not unkind to her, she would think. Though she did not look as they did, and she struggled to form her maw around their words, they were the family she had been given in this life, or so she thought. She did not question their demands, their pushing for her to work excruciatingly hard, their snide words they did not care if she overheard, she did not complain. They were her company, they were her home. She would do her best, it was all she knew.
Breathing under the water came easy to her, and she did not question why. The rituals and spells of the beastclan that took her were as natural to her as the underwater caves they had always lived in, and never once did she know what culture of her own she was missing entirely. Some could say, maybe, sometimes she forgot she wasn’t actually one of them at all; the times when she would see other dragons, drifting through the currents, and hide away with her beastly brethren without a second thought. This was where she grew up, knowing nothing but the cold shoulder of her family so unlike her. And the faintest wisps of voices that sounded like her own, in memories that only came to her in the light shining upon the surface.

The change came upon the darkest day, when the waters were too rough to venture into and the surface had gone black. She didn’t know why the darkness scared her so much, not when the glowing light of the plants down below would never cease to guide her way. But the plants could not stop the changing of the tides, and the scouts that came with it. She knew not what dragons were, really, or that they were truly her own kind, not after so long with the Maren. She only knew to be afraid, to back away and hiss at the approaching Guardians, their faces so alien to her now compared to the beasts she had always known.
But though she was loyal, though she had tried her best and appreciated her life for what she thought she had, nothing was as she had believed. Though she always overlooked the snide comments and scathing words, they finally hurt like no other when they were accompanied with the sight of what had been her family, their backs turned to her without so much as a backwards glance; leaving her alone to face the dragons that came for her.
It was the last she ever saw of the Maren. They did not care for her. They would not take her again.
The dragons spoke quietly to her, they tried to be gentle and calming. But she was afraid; though they sounded like her, their voices tugging at faint memories, she no longer spoke their tongue. And they, too, could not understand hers. Despite her fear, however, she could not overlook how she had been abandoned, nor the ever so faint feeling of being drawn to this Guardian that spoke to her so softly.
Unknowing of what her future would bring, or of what the world above the water would be like, without any other option she followed what she would soon realize were truly her rescuers.

That which is plunged into shadow will always return with the rising sun.

With her, she brought a pearl from the Maren den. With everything she knew turned on its head, the pearl’s smooth and shining surface was the only thing that felt familiar above the sea, where the ground felt too hard and the air seemed so thin compared to water. Clinging to it gave her a sense of protection, of familiarity, as if this one treasure could save her from the fear of change.
She could hear the whispers, the hushed murmuring between the dragons. She only understood bits and pieces, many words still lost to her, but she was clever and the language stuck fast. The dragons seemed so kind, she would realize, compared to what she was used to. Their words were gentler than those of the Maren, their voices hushed so she would not hear. They were not scathing and shameful, but concerned and confused. From what she could understand, it was not normal for one of her breed to be so attached to a mere pearl; but could anything about her truly be considered normal by their standards?
Though they whispered their worries when they thought she was not listening, they greeted her warmly and welcomed her with such kindness it almost felt unreal. They allowed her to stay away on her own, but with the clear invitation that she could huddle with them anytime she so wished. They went far out of their way to bring her food, even when she had not asked or done anything to earn it. Once, a hatchling gave her a pretty rock he found, just because he thought it was as pretty as her; and she nearly cried, for she had never felt like she belonged so.
In time, she came to know their names. Many came and went, but some were always the same. She came to know The Matriarch of the clan well, the massive Guardian she’d felt so drawn to in the very beginning. Though she couldn’t place why, the elder female seemed so familiar and comforting, her presence like pure warmth. And before long, with her growing comfort and trust, the clan came to know her name as well.

Though the land was unfamiliar, Asaeria found that she did not miss the water. The light shining from above was bountiful and unhindered above the surface, its warmth on her scales unmatched by any other. The beams of light shining into the blue depths that she had once chased seemed so pitiful now, compared to the vast expanse of bright sky and pale stone all lit with a heavenly hue from far above. She never wanted to leave; she wanted to stay in the light for the rest of her days.
It was then that she came to know of The Lightweaver. With rapt attention and not a single sound to interrupt, she hung onto the Matriarch’s every word as she told of their great Deity’s tale; how She was responsible for the light cascading over the land, bathing everything in golden tones and the warmth Asaeria loved so dearly. She did not have to be asked if she wished to follow Her with the rest of the clan, for her heart had belonged to the light from the moment she had hatched.
Well and truly, she knew the clan had saved her. Born to the light and hidden away in the depths, she had never even known what she had lost, or where she was meant to be. But now that she had seen the sky, watched the sun rise and fall as surely as her own breaths, and experienced the never-ending dance between the light and the shadows across the land, there was no doubt that she had found her place. Guided perhaps by the Lightweaver’s delicate claws Herself, she had found her way home.
With a clear mind and a desire to follow the Light, there was no hesitation when she asked The Matriarch how she could dedicate her life to the golden hues she felt so connected to. Though the caring Guardian appreciated her enthusiasm, she asked if Asaeria was first willing to give up much more in favor of the Light; could she stand to serve the Lightweaver only, to her dying breath, to never turn from the light and never to take a mate of her own?

The bravest souls are those who would search for the light even in the darkest hour.

The path wound and twisted, somehow both overgrown and yet clearly often walked. Ruins of pale, ivory stone littered the hills all the way down to the ocean, the water sparkling in the rising sun earning no more than a half glance from her. It was quiet up here, almost eerily so, all the commotion of the clan left far behind further down in the ruins of the sun-bleached island. But she was sure; following Solune up the crumbling path was a decision she had never been more sure of.
Golden grass and white stone gave way to vines and branching copper trees, the plantlife reaching high toward the light just as she did. Circled around and protecting, but not obscuring, the trees alongside the ancient pillars guarded the crystal clear water of a pool set in stone. The water looked so clear, so pure, it was vastly different from the deep blue of the sea she’d risen from.
“Search within, and know that your intentions are pure. Call to our shining Lightweaver with the song in your heart, and pray that she will hear your voice here in her Temple of the Moon.”
Solune’s voice was firm and guiding, steadfast in her faith. Though Asaeria didn’t fully understand how to follow her instructions, she did the best she could; tilting her head to the sky, losing herself to the sun shining down on her, she reached for the connection she’d felt from her very first breath on this world. She couldn’t be sure if she was doing it right; but something told her she wasn’t alone, and it didn’t feel like just Solune.
“Step into the pool, Asaeria, and allow our Mother of Light to show your true form.”
And she did.

Just as the night turns to day, just as shadows are chased away by the light; her dark hues bled into the crystal water, washing away as if nothing more than ink upon her scales. For just a moment, she could see nothing but light; golden and white, dancing around her like fireflies, while she could no longer feel her body. Whether she was shimmering on the edge between the world of the living and the home of the Lightweaver, she could not tell; but the unmistakable presence unlike any other left little to doubt.
In just a blink, it was all cast away. She rose from the water, blinking in the dazzling light shining down upon the array of golds her scales had become, and the different shape her body had now taken. As delicate as the sun through the morning leaves, she swore she could hear a voice on the wind for mere moments, nearly drowned out by the water droplets cascading from her.

The lost child of the Light, returned home now to where you always belonged; see now your true form, hidden away under the shadows no longer.

Written and coded in full by Sylverion

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