Cerulean
(#35965747)
...It's raining.
Nebulae
Tricky Telescope
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Fae
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.43 m
Wingspan
0.78 m
Weight
1.23 kg
Genetics
Azure
Metallic
Metallic
Caribbean
Bee
Bee
Crimson
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Fae
Max Level
STR
7
AGI
10
DEF
13
QCK
8
INT
14
VIT
8
MND
13
Biography
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Cerulean "The Cartographer" Cisgender [He/Him] | Demiromantics 
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supplementarytextsupplement
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Biography
Cerulean's birth was a matter of great controversy, as he was a Fae borne to a Bogsneak father and a Skydancer mother. And as it so happened, his "parents" were the leaders of a newly united clan. One that had been at war with each other only months prior.
Suffice it to say that the news of an affair was received quite poorly.
But Cerulean was not there to see the bloody aftermath. Soon after his birth, the baby Fae disappeared deep into the Abiding Boneyard, a mere footnote of the impending civil war.
He doesn't remember how he made it out alive. But he does remember the cold, biting feeling of neglect. It was a memory that would persist with the young Fae for decades...
...and it was a memory destined to be repressed. The Scarred Wasteland is a harsh terrain for anyone to live in, much less a destitute orphan. Cerulean spent his formative years living on scraps of leftovers and the few insects his malnourished body could catch. As he grew up, he took on any odd jobs he could find, most of which were extremely risky and illegal - not that he cared much for the details. It's not like my life is worth much, anyway.
Sometime in his adolescence, he noticed that detailed maps and schematics were in high demand amongst criminal organizations. Reasonably so, as the desired documents required not only skill to prepare, but often concerned the layouts of rather... dangerous locales. But Cerulean was a Fae, and more importantly, he was a Fae with little to lose. And so he took it upon himself to learn the trade of cartography.
Years of gruelling labour passed, along with a handful of death-defying situations. He came out with a small fortune to show for it, enough to keep him comfortably off the streets, and a variety of criminal associations. It was through one of these groups that he would meet his future wife, Asha.
She gave him a gift. For you see, Cerulean could never really hold a proper conversation with anyone. Whether due to his traumatic childhood or his lack of interaction with other Fae, he couldn't properly communicate with his fins. And his monotone style of speaking meant that other species couldn't really understand him either. But Asha's gift of foresight allowed her to puzzle out what he meant by every word. For the first time in his entire life, he could have a normal conversation.
He gave her a gift too, regaling her with stories of the outside she was forbidden from seeing. The two slowly developed a kinship that bloomed into a romance.
But that's a story for another time.
Cerulean views his life before Asha with a deep sense of melancholy and sadness. He still enjoys cartography though, taking on relatively safe and mundane jobs for new guilds, clans, and research teams. He enjoys the serenity nature gives him, the time and space to reflect and come to terms with the circumstances of his childhood.
He can't quite shake the feeling that he's unwanted, even as he has a loving wife waiting for him to come home. He can't quite shake the feeling that he's unloveable, too. He wonders if his parents even remember the little Fae child that uprooted their entire world.
Sometimes Cerulean feels as if he's a bucket with a hole, and that no matter how much love and happiness he fills himself with, it'll always drain out slowly. He wonders if he'll ever figure out how to put a cork in it.
Sometimes he looks out over the Sea of a Thousand Currents, seeing the sun reflect back to him the colour that is his namesake.
And he finds himself at peace, even if it's only for a moment.
Cerulean's birth was a matter of great controversy, as he was a Fae borne to a Bogsneak father and a Skydancer mother. And as it so happened, his "parents" were the leaders of a newly united clan. One that had been at war with each other only months prior.
Suffice it to say that the news of an affair was received quite poorly.
But Cerulean was not there to see the bloody aftermath. Soon after his birth, the baby Fae disappeared deep into the Abiding Boneyard, a mere footnote of the impending civil war.
He doesn't remember how he made it out alive. But he does remember the cold, biting feeling of neglect. It was a memory that would persist with the young Fae for decades...
...and it was a memory destined to be repressed. The Scarred Wasteland is a harsh terrain for anyone to live in, much less a destitute orphan. Cerulean spent his formative years living on scraps of leftovers and the few insects his malnourished body could catch. As he grew up, he took on any odd jobs he could find, most of which were extremely risky and illegal - not that he cared much for the details. It's not like my life is worth much, anyway.
Sometime in his adolescence, he noticed that detailed maps and schematics were in high demand amongst criminal organizations. Reasonably so, as the desired documents required not only skill to prepare, but often concerned the layouts of rather... dangerous locales. But Cerulean was a Fae, and more importantly, he was a Fae with little to lose. And so he took it upon himself to learn the trade of cartography.
Years of gruelling labour passed, along with a handful of death-defying situations. He came out with a small fortune to show for it, enough to keep him comfortably off the streets, and a variety of criminal associations. It was through one of these groups that he would meet his future wife, Asha.
She gave him a gift. For you see, Cerulean could never really hold a proper conversation with anyone. Whether due to his traumatic childhood or his lack of interaction with other Fae, he couldn't properly communicate with his fins. And his monotone style of speaking meant that other species couldn't really understand him either. But Asha's gift of foresight allowed her to puzzle out what he meant by every word. For the first time in his entire life, he could have a normal conversation.
He gave her a gift too, regaling her with stories of the outside she was forbidden from seeing. The two slowly developed a kinship that bloomed into a romance.
But that's a story for another time.
Cerulean views his life before Asha with a deep sense of melancholy and sadness. He still enjoys cartography though, taking on relatively safe and mundane jobs for new guilds, clans, and research teams. He enjoys the serenity nature gives him, the time and space to reflect and come to terms with the circumstances of his childhood.
He can't quite shake the feeling that he's unwanted, even as he has a loving wife waiting for him to come home. He can't quite shake the feeling that he's unloveable, too. He wonders if his parents even remember the little Fae child that uprooted their entire world.
Sometimes Cerulean feels as if he's a bucket with a hole, and that no matter how much love and happiness he fills himself with, it'll always drain out slowly. He wonders if he'll ever figure out how to put a cork in it.
Sometimes he looks out over the Sea of a Thousand Currents, seeing the sun reflect back to him the colour that is his namesake.
And he finds himself at peace, even if it's only for a moment.
Story
"Sunsets have a bittersweet quality for me; The most beautiful time of the day, contrasted with the worst memory of my life."
There were once two clans in the Scarred Wasteland. Both laid claim to a piece of land within the Abiding Boneyard, and this simple point of conflict was the root of a century-old feud between the two. Much blood had been drawn and shed over the territory, and the conflict seemed never-ending. Bodies would often be left desiccated and rotting in the streets, as there were not enough able dragons to provide them with a proper burial.
It was, in many ways, a living nightmare.
But, in an unexpected twist of fate, some hope descended upon the forsaken land. The first daughter of the war chief became smitten with the opposing clan's healer, and he in turn fell for her. Their romance was a whirlwind, and it subsumed the factional divides. It wasn't easy, but after years of hard work, there was peace for the first time in generations. Love had brought unity to the land.
It was akin to a story from a fairytale.
In the dying embers of the sunset, the Skydancer and Bogsneak stood. It had been an arduous effort; years of political machinations, assassination attempts, espionage, negotiations... all to obtain this future together. They stood standing, tired but fulfilled, keenly aware of this turning point in their tribe's history. This was a new future, one of their making.
They turned their attention to the pulsating green orb laying amongst a web of tendons and flesh. Their first nest was a single egg; an only child. A sign of new hope.
As the sun slipped below the horizon, casting strands of purple light across the sky, the egg cracked. A delighted smile spread across the Skydancer as she watched; first, small breaks fractured across the surface, slowly becoming larger fissures, until there was a hole large enough for the baby to emerge. The two watched with bated breaths, wondering which breed their child would take after.
The baby fell out of the egg with a squeak, their face sloshing into the incubation bile that lay at the bottom of the nest. They gingerly picked themselves out of the goop, shaking themselves to clear the radioactive liquid from their body. Their eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the fading light of the sun, as they looked up at the two looming figures that stood over them. They both remained deafeningly silent. The child chirped questioningly, their fins scintillating in turn.
The Bogsneak turned to look at the Skydancer in horror and betrayal. The Skydancer couldn't take her eyes off of the Fae child that had emerged from the egg.
The child's chirps progressed into worried wails as the night descended. The darkness engulfed the light, the sound, the memories; until only a vast feeling of emptiness and lovelessness remained.
And that is what Cerulean remembers of his birth.
Applied Items:
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