Denebola
(#35221516)
All dressed up with nowhere to go | she/her
BungeeGum
Juvenile Starsweeper
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Fire.
Female Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.29 m
Wingspan
5.27 m
Weight
412.47 kg
Genetics
Brick
Savannah
Savannah
Pink
Hex
Hex
Cottoncandy
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Biography
D E N E B O L A♫
THE BEAST MASTER
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R E L A T I O N S B E A S T S  COUNTESS  COUNT ╰━━━━━━━━╯ |
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". . ." ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ At night, the Cathedral of Eyes is quiet, but it is by no means asleep. In many ways, night is when the Cathedral comes alive, for many of its inhabitants thrive in the darkness. A visitor, wandering around after dark, might soon arrive at a blood-red door. It opens to them, and they find themselves drawn in by the tantalizing music, the murmur of voices and laughter, the gleam of many eyes... Tonight, however, the music is more subdued. The atmosphere in the room beyond the scarlet door is more bustling than festive, and the visitor gets the impression that the Red Velvet Lounge isn’t open just now. “We’re closed,” the auburn Imperial says, confirming their suspicions. She smiles warmly, but doesn’t move aside. “It’s a full moon tonight, you know. Come back tomorrow evening.” The visitor murmurs their thanks and heads off to explore the Cathedral further...or enjoy a peaceful night’s sleep. Those who work in the red-draped room, meanwhile, return to their duties. The mistress of the Red Velvet Lounge expects her domain to be as impeccable as it was when she left it, and her subordinates will strive to make it so. On this night, indeed, the moon is full, and it illuminates roads that only the brave and the beastly would take. Denebola of the Red Velvet Lounge is both, but she is not alone. “A story, eh?” she murmurs, running her claws through the curly fur of her consort. He bends closer, growling softly in her ear; around them the rest of the pack paces, languidly stretching their limbs. “Again? Oh, Rochester, you all know how I came to the Cathedral. What a worn-out tale.” The Barghest grumbles, his fangs glinting in the gloom. Denebola remains unfazed. She smirks back. “You find it fascinating, do you? Even after all this time? My, but aren’t you the flatterer. Now, how to begin...?” Denebola had indeed shared the tale of her arrival at the Cathedral many times before. Rochester had a reason for being curious, however, for the tale changed with each telling. Once... “I was a scullery maid,” she said one time, with a wink, “and I thought it’d be fun to shirk my work...” “If I told you my family name, you would surely recognize it! We were a noble clan, so many moons ago...” “Would you believe I was a scholar? I pored over so many books! And in them, I found the way to the fairies’ realm...” Whichever beginnings Denebola chose, they always converged here: In this subterranean labyrinth, where the fairies cast those who’d displeased them—doomed to be devoured by bloodthirsty monsters. Denebola had come to the Cathedral as a child—stolen away by one of the fairies’ henchmen, along with many other children whose life-force was meant to nourish the fairy queen and king. She still remembered the monarchs’ cold eyes glittering down at her. “Such a pretty face...but much too old. Her life’s already turning sour,” they hissed. One of them extended a talon to point to the labyrinth.... And now, here was Denebola, shaking off the memories. Her heart pounded madly, and for a while, irrationally, she wished it would stop, so that she could hear... Them. Vampires, demons, monsters...There were only two of them, but whatever they were, Denebola knew they could only bring death. There was a large, serpentine one, still garbed in a tattered red cloak. Denebola had approached it at first, thinking to ask for help. The words had died on her tongue when the beast’s eyes had fastened on her. She’d screamed in terror and fled, trying to shut her ears against the mindless clicking noises rattling from its throat. The smaller one was much worse. It was only a fraction of Denebola’s length, but it moved like a serpent through water and struck just as quickly. It had bitten her...hours ago? Days? It’d been impossible to treat the wound properly here. The best she could do was use her sleeve cuff as a makeshift bandage. And all the while she’d been hurrying on, resting when she could, but not too deeply, lest the creatures murder her in her sleep; licking droplets of water from the walls; trying to ignore the dizzying waves of hunger and weariness... And always listening for the approach of the bloodsucking beasts. Denebola had no illusions about escaping the labyrinth. Even so, she refused to wait placidly for her doom. If those things wanted to take her life, then they would have to fight her for it. Eventually, Denebola’s legs simply refused to move. The exhausted Skydancer slumped against the wall. She waited there, her eyes smoldering feverishly, grinding her teeth in anticipation of a fight. Soon enough, the creatures arrived. She heard those loathsome clicking noises, saw the gleam of their eyes. They came close enough for her to see their faces.... Their faces? Denebola’s eyes had adjusted to the dark long ago, and now she squinted—against beams of faint silvery light emanating from an offshoot between her and the creatures. The vampires shrank from the light too...and then they broke and fled. The light receded, but didn’t disappear. Wondering if it signified a way out, Denebola staggered over to it. She peered down the mouth of the corridor. Another dead end, but much shorter, and littered with junk. The light still came from something hanging on the wall: a mirror. And there was something else: a voice. Cautiously, Denebola moved closer. Her reflection in the glass was quickly overshadowed by another form, as though she were approaching a window and someone else was standing on the other side. Scarlet silks, blood-red ribbons...and bright eyes in a gnarled face. It smiled, showing sharp teeth. But there was no hunger anywhere on that face, no malevolence in the eyes. The strange creature leaned forward, and the mirror shimmered around him like water. “Lucky we found you when we did. Don’t worry, girl...” He reached out his claws. “We’re getting you out of there.” Stolen away by fairies...and rescued by goblins. Denebola stepped into their kingdom and found herself in a twilit world. Velvet drapes obscured much of the walls. Between them, narrow lancet windows admitted a gentle afternoon glow. She tried to look through them, but the frosted glass gave no clue as to what lay beyond. She focused on her rescuer instead. He looked rather like a Wildclaw, and his face creased into a smile. “Don’t be afraid, nobody here will hurt you. My name is Toby. What’s yours?” “Denebola.” Her feathers bristled in irritation. “And I’m not afraid of anybody!” “I’m very pleased to hear that!” He sounded entirely sincere, and she hadn’t been expecting that response. She gave him a narrow, distrustful look. Before either of them could speak, a sigh rang out from the shadows behind the Wildclaw. The words that came next were spoken by a low, powerful voice that stirred the velvet drapes— “She is the one who needed rescue.” “Yes, Aughra. I found her just as the creatures were about to pounce.” “So you did.” The shadows shifted; a tremendous set of claws came down and, with great tenderness, grasped Denebola’s wrist so that the bloody bandage was visible. Toby’s face darkened. “Their mark is already upon her. Does that mean...?” “Not her doom, certainly not.” Denebola peered into the shadows for the source of the voice. She saw the glint of many violet orbs, of eyes, blinking and watching from along the length of a great, dark creature. Momentarily disoriented, she shook her head—and suddenly the creature’s face was before her. Partly covered in a gossamer veil, softening with a smile. “I am Aughra, and he is Prince Toby. On behalf of our king, welcome to the Goblin Kingdom.” The goblins’ magic was mighty, and they attempted to leech the vampires’ curse from Denebola. But it had already taken root, and with each passing night, the hunger within her burned brighter. “Still, I’m no savage,” Denebola whispered. She crouched in the middle of the room, her feathers bristling with concentration. Aughra twined through the shadows of the ceiling, her whispers drifting down like snowflakes— “True, true. Don’t let the hunger consume you. You can master it....” But while mastery eluded Denebola, there was still the risk the hunger would overtake her and she would harm someone. Toby proposed another plan: “If you partake of a special goblin feast, you will be transformed into one of our own kind. The process is painless...but irreversible. Also,” and he smiled wryly, “many people are of the opinion that we goblins aren’t easy on the eyes.” Denebola considered it. To become a goblin was to bind oneself to the kingdom. There would be no going back to the home she’d had, the lair she’d known.... But did she really want to leave the wonders of the Goblin Kingdom? And as for Toby’s words, Denebola found herself smirking at them. What did other people’s opinions matter? She’d survived the fairies and now the goblins wanted her to join them—nothing could hurt her now. And so the goblins prepared a great feast to officially induct her into the kingdom. The stone halls rang with chatter and music, the decorations eclipsed only by the dizzying array of foodstuffs laid upon the tables. The Goblin King, Jareth, thanked everybody for their attendance. He explained that the purpose of the feast was to welcome Denebola, and as the goblins cheered their approval, the feast began. Despite how peculiar the food looked, it tasted pleasant, and she ate with gusto. As Toby had promised, the transformation was painless. Denebola didn’t notice it until she saw herself reflected in a silver bowl. Maybe her face had become a bit craggier, and she could see the tips of her eyeteeth... But would she call herself hideous? “Absolutely not!” she indignantly thought. She grinned at her reflection and stuffed another pasty into her mouth. “Not ugly. Simply...different.” The transformation did help somewhat. Now a goblin, Denebola was able to use their magic to stave off the worst urges of vampirism. Under the guidance of Toby, Aughra, and other great magicians of the Kingdom, she discovered she could not only control it, but also that it had given her other abilities. “Beast Speak, some call it,” Aughra murmured: The Cathedral attracted many strange beings, and Denebola had learned that she could understand their speech. “Getting them to listen is an entirely different challenge, however.” Aughra’s many eyes glinted. “Use your abilities wisely, Denebola.” “Of course, Madam Aughra.” Denebola bowed respectfully. Once she was away from the High Priestess’ chambers, a sly smile danced across her face. There would be time enough to exercise her powers wisely...but wasn’t she entitled to a little fun as well? Perhaps because of this mindset, Denebola found herself drifting away from the royal family. She would always be grateful for their help, but their peaceful lifestyle didn’t appeal to her. She took to roaming the grounds just outside the Cathedral. She exercised her powers here, learning more about other creatures...and how to control them. This other ability was, she supposed, from the vampires. And at first, she used it largely as they did: to entice weaker creatures into her grasp so that she could feed on them. But it could be dangerous for her, too. Many beasts were resistant to her magic. There were times when she had to flee, realizing she had become the target instead. On this night, however, she found herself drawn to music and the glow of several campfires. She soon came to a great clearing, where she confirmed her guess: the Night Circus had arrived. The Night Circus was crewed largely by goblins and had Jareth’s blessing to camp on the Cathedral’s grounds. Denebola had seen some of their shows before; now, however, the circus was closed. They had evidently arrived just recently, and the goblins were practicing their acts or doing various chores. A sentry was about to wave her off, and then he took a closer look and bowed instead. “Welcome, Denebola!” “You know my name?” The Skydancer was surprised; she’d never interacted with the circus crew before. “Some of us attended the welcome feast for you a while back. Come, sup with us, and enjoy our performances.” The goblin held a finger to his lips. “For your eyes only.” A great roar caught Denebola’s attention. Atop a stage, an illusionist was working through her routine, tossing silk scarves into the air. One by one, they turned into fluttering white doves. The roar had come from an enormous, leonine beast: “A Golden Idol?” Denebola was stunned; she hadn’t thought such creatures still existed. The doves whirled into a feathery ring—and as the idol leaped through, it exploded into another flock of birds, golden sparrows that trilled honey-sweet melodies. The illusionist directed them with her claws; the flock soared over the stage before the idol reappeared, landing with a thud. The doves shimmered into a single stream of pearly cloth, which settled comfortably around the illusionist’s neck. The goblins’ applause was briefly drowned out by a ringing bell: “Suppertime!” As one, the crew hurried over to the cooking pot, and a goblin pushed a tray into Denebola’s hands. It contained a bowl of stew and a slice of cake. “Compliments of the ringmaster,” she said with a wink. Denebola nodded her thanks. Perhaps inevitably, she found herself drawn to the idol’s tent, where it was eating its meal. She heard the crunch of bones, had to steel herself against the scent of raw meat. She purred a greeting, and in the shadows, the beast’s eyes lit up like lamps. “Did you enjoy our show, lady?” “It was...very pretty,” Denebola said. The smell of fresh blood emboldened her, and she asked, “Doesn’t it embarrass you?” “What’s that?” “Performing tricks for a crowd, leaping at the goblins’ command...You’re all right with that?” “Why shouldn’t I be? My home is warm, and I get regular meals. High-quality meals, I might add.” The idol sniffed. “That’s a fine cake you’ve got there. Are you going to eat that?” “I’d thought a beast like you would prefer to be free.” There was a strange sigh from the darkness. The leonine shape shrank...and suddenly... It was quite a different shape, long and lithe and scaly. The Serthis pushed back his lion’s-mane hood. Underneath it, though, his eyes still glinted, and so did his fangs. Denebola’s crest stood on end. “I thought—” “That I was a beast? Certainly I am. Though you’ll need to understand that that’s not the same as being an animal.” And now the Skydancer drew closer. “How did you get to be that way?” “Witches.” The Serthis shrugged as if that explained everything. And, in a way, it did. “Now, there’re plenty of things I could do with a form like this. I could roam the jeweled deserts of Dragonhome, but not many take kindly to what’s different, you know? Which is why I joined the circus. People come here to be dazzled, to be tricked. And that’s the best glamour, the best camouflage, we different folks have got.” The Serthis loomed closer. Denebola could see him more clearly now, his fine-featured face with its light dusting of fur. He tilted his head, obviously curious. “You’re not entirely a goblin.” “No.” The back of Denebola’s wrist throbbed—or was she just imagining it? “I’m...something else.” “Well, sing it loud, girl. Ever thought about joining the circus? I’m sure your king wouldn’t mind, and the crowd applauds us, no matter how monstrous or magical we seem. Nobody minds curses here. As I said, people expect to be tricked.” Denebola chuckled quietly, but didn’t reply. The Serthis seemed to understand; he winked before returning to his meal. The Skydancer drained her bowl and wrapped the cake up for later. In the cool light of dawn, as she had it for breakfast, she considered the strange creature’s words, the invitation to be a part of the circus’ grand and glittering world. No matter how monstrous or magical... The circus was not for Denebola, but still, she smiled. She scooped another red velvet piece into her mouth and thought about making another grand and glittering world, one that would answer only to her. Beneath the gibbous moon, the Cathedral stands quiet—save for the music and laughter in the Red Velvet Lounge. The employees bustle to and fro, and the nexus of this activity is Denebola, directing them with a long, ebony cane. “Have we enough wine, Sazerac? Excellent...how about meat?” Denebola grins, showing off her fangs. “Some of our guests prefer fresher food, after all.” Her employees laugh quietly. Some of them bare their own sharp teeth in response. And as they flit among the booths and the drapes, their forms flicker, as though touched by an illusionist’s spell. Here a fox with many bushy tails, and there a creature with impossibly huge jaws... Someone nudges Denebola’s elbow, and she looks down at the Barghest lounging at her side. “Another story? Goodness, Rochester, we barely just got over the last one.” He utters a low growl, and Denebola laughs. “The dawn of the Red Velvet Lounge! That’s a long tale, and it’ll have to wait until next time.” The lights are brightening. The first guests are already being ushered through the door. Denebola straightens her cloak collar, and she smiles again. “For now, let’s attend to our guests.” She rises to her feet, proud and in control. The first show of the night is ready to begin. ~ written by Disillusionist (254672) all edits by other users - Mistress Denebola - Brought to the Cathedral as a hatchling to sacrifice to the faeries, but was deemed too old. - Tossed into the labyrinth to be disposed of - Bitten by the vampiric beast Fabliau - Saved by goblins... also a goblin - She keeps the beasts under control and performs circus acts with them. - Capable of taming and working with any beast. - Bisexual, but main consort is Rochester the barghest.
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