Treasure
(#35081545)
you talk a lot of trash for someone within biting distance
Phantom
Trick of the Light
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Mirror
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.45 m
Wingspan
6.1 m
Weight
432.15 kg
Genetics
Caribbean
Skink
Skink
Coral
Bee
Bee
Turquoise
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 6 Mirror
EXP: 8012 / 8380
STR
30
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
20
INT
7
VIT
7
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
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༻ T R E A S U R E ༺
  
She | Her | Herself
O C C U P A T I O N - Feral F A M I L Y - None M A T E - None F A M I L I A R - Trick of the Light A L I G N M E N T - Chaotic Neutral S E X U A L I T Y - Aro Ace E X T R A - Former Tundra. Obsession hybrid ྿
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"Hungry... so hungry."
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Her eyes opened wide when the peddler told her in a voice that seemed to share a private secret that they could give her a gift that she had never known she needed. Sight, they swore, soft, hissing the words through their teeth. Sight like you have never known before and will never know now if you do not take this deal. Luxurious promises of a world much clearer than what her limited vision allowed roiled in that dark and ugly voice that gurgled like the festering pits of Plague she knew to avoid. "Treasure" was her name, and she had always worn it proudly. She believed she was destined someday to be a gleaming jewel, a beauty like no other. Hatching in Plague meant nothing; it was the highest spires of Light she was meant for, where she would spread her wings wide and light would stream through them like stained glass. She would glow. But that could never happen the way she was now, or so this peddler assured her. As if they knew her every secret fear, her every passing whim, they burbled on through their pitch. Your fur, they gnashed their teeth, eyes rolling wildly, and she understood at once - her wings were so terribly coated in fur, how would light ever shine through them? Choked with fur, the horrid stuff! But could they fix that? Of course, they had spoken in a trembling wail, and yet there was such certainty in their tone that she could hardly doubt them. Buy, and you will be free of fur, and you will have sight. Sight. Freedom from fur. But would her sense of smell remain? She feared that most, feared that she would lose those precious connections to her friends and her family. She wanted badly to know that she would keep that sense of smell, and true enough, the peddler pounded the ground with their paws, or talons, she wasn't quite sure which, and they left black stains on the dirt where they stood as they spoke. Smell, yes, you would never lose that, they screeched in a cacophany of jagged up and down pitches. Too important a feature to forget! And in their wild eyes she saw such reassurance that she nodded, and with a trembling paw she slid forward the jewels they had demanded as payment. One pitch-black paw grasped a scroll and thrust it towards her, dripping an oily substance from its wrist, and she took it gratefully. Read, they gurgled, black ooze spilling out from their mouth and gushing around their teeth to stain their lower jaw. She looked on, concerned; her eyesight was so very poor, what if she couldn't read it? But they merely shook their head, strings of that strange shady drool flying. It will be clear once you read, they shuddered. She held tight to the scroll and watched as they limped and lumped away, dragging their cart of strange wares with them, and she sat down. With a careful paw holding it down she nosed open the scroll. It was then that she understood what the peddler had meant. Each word was blazing with light and magical energy, so charged with power that merely having her eyes open seemed to burn them into her mind's eye. So bright that they left afterimages glowing in front of her when she looked away. All at once her wings tore outwards, violent, with a wrenching sound so loud it made her eyes wobble. Her bones contorted, slow, painful, every move of them squealing as they stretched and snapping as they broke and reformed. She howled in pain and stretched out her claws, digging them into the soil beneath her feet and feeling each individual talon lengthen, becoming less of a paw and more of a claw. She could feel her ribcage shrink and her spinal cord snap into place, could feel her shoulder blades groan against other bones as they grew to make room for muscles. And there were muscles growing, tight and sinewy where before there had been only soft fur and soft fat. Powerful at her breastbone and lean at her neck, tough and tight around her legs. She knew not how long the torture went on, but she could pinpoint the moment when it ceased. That was after her eyes had glazed over and shut tightly, and it was precisely when they opened again. Her skull had been shaped strangely, and new openings where her sinuses had one been suddenly filled with bulbous sacs of fluid and flesh, and there was a seam, and then her eyes opened and she saw. In so many more ways than before, she saw. The eyes she had always possessed were gone now, replaced with a pair that she thought must have been plucked from a griffon, so sharp were they. She could see a mile, another mile, another. Far away she saw a raven rest in a tree, and she could see not only the shape of its beak but the texture of its midnight feathers that ruffled in that distant breeze. Beyond that she could see a plume of vile smoke rising from some festering wound in the earth itself. She could see so much, and when her second eyes opened she saw more here and now. No longer was she restricted to mere sight. She could sense now, could see the heat of her own flesh and blood and the red pinpoint of heat that was the faraway raven. She could look in the air and see where there was warmth from the color alone, could look at the earth and see how recently a warm body had been here and which way it had gone. She could see in so many new ways that it blinded her in sheer bliss. And then there was the smell. Oh, she had smelled before, no doubt about that, but this was entirely new. It was no longer about information. She didn't need to know what had been here and why, no - she could tell most of all that it was alive. That it was breathing. Her stomach growled. In Plague she was always hungry, had always been. It was merely life, that insects were sometimes all she could find when plants were scarce or dying. Her stomach had not been full for a long time. She had always been aware that she was hungry, but it had always been so distant, so managable. This was not. This new emptiness yawned in her gut and she let out a harsh cry to share her hollowness with the world. Her mind failed and her new instinct took its place, and before she knew it, she was already following the trail of life, all control lost, stumbling over feet of mismatched length and lashing a too-long, too-thin tail and waving wings too big and thin to control. She caught every gust of wind in her wings the size of sails, and every step she took felt her claws sink into the ground. She breathed in the smell of life and she stumbled towards it, not blindly, never blindly, never again, but she approached that distant tree she had seen, that distant raven. At the foot of the tree she looked up at it. A three-eyed monstrosity, it was, looking down at her with botworms and rot half-eating its flesh, and she could feel her mouth water just looking at it. Strings of drool oozed around her teeth and trickled down her jaw and she balanced, careful, on her hind legs, reached up just barely, and-- She had known hunger, but it had never consumed her the way this had. Her old life was more than ignored - it was forgotten, erased entirely, as if she had never lived another at all. No family, no friends, no clan - she was only hungry, and hunger was all that she could comprehend. She feasted, and when she was done she followed the trail of life and she feasted again. Meat was more filling than leaves, and she found now that she could gorge herself and eat long past her fill to maintain her for long spans of time. Reason was gone, as were dreams, and thoughts. Her mind existed only to calculate her next direction so that she might find more to fill the eternal emptiness within her. Time passed, as time does, and she could not, would not, regain her senses. But once, when she had eaten far past her filling point and was basking in the sun till she could move again, a glimmer of light caught her eye. With the greatest of effort she rolled herself to lift her head and study it, and she realized, in some distant, foggy part of her mind, that it was the Beacon of the Radiant Eye - Light's domain. Some dim memory surfaced and she let out a hoarse croak, getting unsteadily to her feet. There. That was what she wanted. It was greater than her hunger, greater than anything. She was Treasure. She had to perch on Light's golden spires. She had to spread her wings and cast light like stained glass. Slow, unsteady, still fighting the urge to fall down and rest and then go back to her hunt to satisfy her hunger, she took one uncertain step after another, eyes fixed firmly on that distant, gleaming light. She would get there. She would glow. |
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This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Treasure 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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