Kepler

There's something awful about Kepler's colouration. Something sinister and menacing and ugly. She's always known it, since before she knew her own name. As a hatchling, her nestmates had shuddered away from her, some long-dormant instinct screaming that they run, run, run. Even her own parents had visibly steeled themselves before touching her.

It's not that red or black are uncommon on a dragon. Quite the opposite, dark colours are useful, allowing one to move unseen under night's thick cloak. Perhaps what makes Kepler so horrifying is the combination: that vivid, bloody, clotting red and the shadowy obsidian. "Nightmare material" is what one particularly bold fae had called her before turning tail and fleeing, humming bird wings buzzing with the speed of their flight.

She used to care about that kind of comment - not hurt, just curious - but after years without an answer, she's found that she doesn't really mind. There's a certain fun in watching strangers do wild double takes when she walks among them, their eyes widening with fear. She can command the attention of a room simply by yawning open her jewel-bright gums. More importantly, no forest, mountain or valley is closed to her - who, after all, would attack unprovoked a dragon that looks fresh from the boiling depths of Rotrock Rim? Solitude is a small price to pay for that kind of instant respect.

And Kepler has always preferred a solitary life. Despite her clansmates' attempts to push her towards a career in the Coliseum or with the hunting parties, respectable ways to use her colouring, she wanted to learn. Theirs is a vast world and so much of it is yet to be discovered, hidden nooks and unexplored wastelands; nightmare-ish locations fit only for a nightmare-ish dragon.

Kepler spends her days wandering these places. Her claws were the first to pad softly across so many dusty stretches, the first to leaves tracks in the soft mud of so many flatlands. She does return to her clan on occasion, bringing with her the most amazing gifts and treasures. Hatchlings still shrink from her in fear, but they never stay away for long. Kepler the Wayfarer has all the best stories.