Ilar
(#35552630)
Level 8 Imperial
Familiar
Dire Hyena
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
20.86 m
Wingspan
21.5 m
Weight
7477.85 kg
Genetics
Moon
Iridescent
Iridescent
Ultramarine
Facet
Facet
White
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Imperial
EXP: 7885 / 16009
STR
39
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
15
INT
8
VIT
13
MND
6
Biography
I L A R
"cheerful" - Ice Prince - Immortal
| remembering |
the oldest, the darkest, the deepest, the dearest... the palest... the most tragic. (how do you sleep at night?) he wakes with the taste of cinnamon and freezing on his tongue every morning, and dreams of her eyes every night before he goes to sleep. he does not even remember their color, but their shape alone brings him warmth, even in the pit of winter- rounder than the moon, and smoother than the stars.
he used to fall asleep with her skin pressed flush against his- she had no shame, that woman, and would curl herself against him every night to make use of his body heat. he can still recall the swell of her laugh, drowsy with exhaustion yet ringing like the peal of a silver bell- you're a furnace, my darling, she would whisper, conspiratorially, as though they were not alone for a thousand miles in all directions, their hidden trysts a mere breath in the wind. you could heat an entire city for decades. he can feel her fingers tickling playfully on his chest, her hair sweeping his neck as she adjusts her position. how delicate she was, how dreadful, how precious- a pane of glass, a stain in the snow- a chunk of priceless china dashed against a hillside in the storm.
he should have known better. a human woman, out in that cold, for too long- he should have seen, should have wondered, should have asked- but he didn't, and he let her in, he fed her and warmed her and cared for her, cared for her, of all mistakes to make... and then she was gone. the merest push of harshest nature and she snapped like a twig. you couldn't have loved her anyway, the forest whispered when it thought he wasn't listening- she was a human, and you are a Prince. she would not have made it a day on her own. you could not love her, they liked to tell him, in the rustle of their branches and the needle of their spines, and he could not help but to listen, to blame himself- for she had been human, painfully so, and no dragon could ever hope to win the heart of a man.
| the beginning |
he was born in a small village nestled in the windblown peaks of Irencrad, to a dying worshipper of the sun. before she died, she passed on to him her blessing, and her burden- to carry the torch given her by her mother, and her mother before her. a line of thousands, stretching back centuries, all female, all trusted to keep the secret she whispered in her son's ear that night. for years, he went without speaking it, holding it close to him, burning it to keep himself alive- he did not trust the sound of it even to the fickle wind. only when he was older, and more uncertain, and desiring of justification, did he finally whisper it for the first time, alone in his room, to the eavesdropping wallpaper:
you, the one true descendant of water and sky, shall hold in keeping the wind's heart forever, and in this keeping, shall never die.
"cheerful" - Ice Prince - Immortal
| remembering |
the oldest, the darkest, the deepest, the dearest... the palest... the most tragic. (how do you sleep at night?) he wakes with the taste of cinnamon and freezing on his tongue every morning, and dreams of her eyes every night before he goes to sleep. he does not even remember their color, but their shape alone brings him warmth, even in the pit of winter- rounder than the moon, and smoother than the stars.
he used to fall asleep with her skin pressed flush against his- she had no shame, that woman, and would curl herself against him every night to make use of his body heat. he can still recall the swell of her laugh, drowsy with exhaustion yet ringing like the peal of a silver bell- you're a furnace, my darling, she would whisper, conspiratorially, as though they were not alone for a thousand miles in all directions, their hidden trysts a mere breath in the wind. you could heat an entire city for decades. he can feel her fingers tickling playfully on his chest, her hair sweeping his neck as she adjusts her position. how delicate she was, how dreadful, how precious- a pane of glass, a stain in the snow- a chunk of priceless china dashed against a hillside in the storm.
he should have known better. a human woman, out in that cold, for too long- he should have seen, should have wondered, should have asked- but he didn't, and he let her in, he fed her and warmed her and cared for her, cared for her, of all mistakes to make... and then she was gone. the merest push of harshest nature and she snapped like a twig. you couldn't have loved her anyway, the forest whispered when it thought he wasn't listening- she was a human, and you are a Prince. she would not have made it a day on her own. you could not love her, they liked to tell him, in the rustle of their branches and the needle of their spines, and he could not help but to listen, to blame himself- for she had been human, painfully so, and no dragon could ever hope to win the heart of a man.
| the beginning |
he was born in a small village nestled in the windblown peaks of Irencrad, to a dying worshipper of the sun. before she died, she passed on to him her blessing, and her burden- to carry the torch given her by her mother, and her mother before her. a line of thousands, stretching back centuries, all female, all trusted to keep the secret she whispered in her son's ear that night. for years, he went without speaking it, holding it close to him, burning it to keep himself alive- he did not trust the sound of it even to the fickle wind. only when he was older, and more uncertain, and desiring of justification, did he finally whisper it for the first time, alone in his room, to the eavesdropping wallpaper:
you, the one true descendant of water and sky, shall hold in keeping the wind's heart forever, and in this keeping, shall never die.
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Exalting Ilar 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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