samhainEve

The first of his siblings to be born on the unluckiest night possible - the thirteenth day of the tenth month, the nights beginning to noticeably lengthen, Plague's festival looming just over the horizon - many viewed Sam with intense distrust when he first appeared at the clan's borders, seeking sanctuary and shelter from the chilling desert nights. Cursed, they whispered among themselves, unlucky, we shouldn't let him in, who knows what sort of spirits have possessed him.

Even the least superstitious among them found themselves swayed by these whispers, as Sam's physical appearance did nothing to assuage their fears - black on black, marked with arcane patterns in glowing orange, he was hardly more than a hatchling but already well on the road to being massive, with sharp blue eyes glinting from under the crest of his brow.

Midnight and Pera were prepared to close ranks against him, hoping against hope that this unlucky stranger would retreat without a fight, but Autumn shouldered her way between them, demanding that they stop being so foolish and let him in immediately. At a loss for what to do with the princess of the clan tantruming to get her way, they looked to her mother, Lola - who looked at the stranger, looked back at them, and shrugged.

They let him in.

Sam never ceased to be a terror to look at - the largest true dragon in the clan, larger even than Red, his black and orange form is impossible to miss and shocking to behold, for those who do not know him. Those that do, however, know that he is gentle, almost bashful, never inclined to raise his voice or speak an unkind word against anyone, let alone move his bulk to violence.

He is, however, still unlucky, though bad luck only befalls him, and not those around him. He's clumsy and unfortunate, and things seem to go out of their way to trip him up or fall on him, and he drops nearly every object he holds. It's a bit of joke, around the clan - that enormous, handsome, unlucky boy, they whisper, though their voices are now tinged with mirth instead of fear.

He's happy, though, and for good reason - who knows what Autumn saw in him, when he first arrived, but she fought so fiercely to let him in because she wanted him for her own. He's pleased as one can be to be prince consort to the fiercest, wildest, most temperamental heiress in the region, and his soft demeanor has proven to be a positive influence on her fiery attitude. Enormous and calm to small and sharp, they are quite the pair, but both are black on black patterned with luminous orange, and no one can deny that they belong together.

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