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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.98 m
Wingspan
4.32 m
Weight
545.34 kg
Genetics
Ice
Petals
Petals
Ice
Butterfly
Butterfly
Orca
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
Despite only living in his home lair for a day after he hatched, he felt homesick after the relatively short ride to the Starwood Strand.
(Yes, ride. You expect a hatchling to be able to fly to the main continent at a day old? He may have tried, and crashed, and pretended that the wind knocked him down, because even as a child he wasn't anything but stubborn, but no. Keep dreaming.)
He was actually happy that he took all that snow from his parent's den when they weren't looking. Y'know, that snow that he shoveled in his mouth in embarrassment to cover up his weaknesses that now, in a horrible twist of fate, shows through his chest for the entire world to see.
Yeah, that snow.
Sometimes he hated being a magical dragon.
If you say the words "daddy issues" anywhere near him, he will claw you without hesitation.
Because he knows it's true.
It felt strange knowing that he was a gift of sorts, to keep bonds between these two clans positive. He was representative of the Southern Icefield, a reminder of the existence of friendship, but not much more than that since he hardly even knew anything about his own clan.
His parents always felt as cold as the ice of their home. He could feel it even before he hatched, when his father leaned over the crystalline eggs of he and his siblings and never said a word. Conversations between Sonne and Cinder were minimal at best, muffled past the nest, but the hatchling could still hear the lack of warmth in their voices, and knew the distance they kept.
To the hatchlings, having only just shed their frigid shells, Sonne was intimidating to say the least. Terrifying would be a better word. He glowed, from the light reflecting his freezing scales, on his unnatural clawtips, from an ancient rune adorning his head... not to mention the eternal personal snowstorm that whipped around his wingtips.
And he just... stood there. Did not come close, which the hatchlings unfortunately did not know was for their own protection. Even though their equally chilled mother touched each of them with her snout, the child still felt empty, somehow. He wanted to stay. He wanted to learn, about the islandic icy taiga, about his clan, about his mysterious father.
The distant dragon, the clan leader, the frigid enigma... who would never look at his children.
(Yes, ride. You expect a hatchling to be able to fly to the main continent at a day old? He may have tried, and crashed, and pretended that the wind knocked him down, because even as a child he wasn't anything but stubborn, but no. Keep dreaming.)
He was actually happy that he took all that snow from his parent's den when they weren't looking. Y'know, that snow that he shoveled in his mouth in embarrassment to cover up his weaknesses that now, in a horrible twist of fate, shows through his chest for the entire world to see.
Yeah, that snow.
Sometimes he hated being a magical dragon.
If you say the words "daddy issues" anywhere near him, he will claw you without hesitation.
Because he knows it's true.
It felt strange knowing that he was a gift of sorts, to keep bonds between these two clans positive. He was representative of the Southern Icefield, a reminder of the existence of friendship, but not much more than that since he hardly even knew anything about his own clan.
His parents always felt as cold as the ice of their home. He could feel it even before he hatched, when his father leaned over the crystalline eggs of he and his siblings and never said a word. Conversations between Sonne and Cinder were minimal at best, muffled past the nest, but the hatchling could still hear the lack of warmth in their voices, and knew the distance they kept.
To the hatchlings, having only just shed their frigid shells, Sonne was intimidating to say the least. Terrifying would be a better word. He glowed, from the light reflecting his freezing scales, on his unnatural clawtips, from an ancient rune adorning his head... not to mention the eternal personal snowstorm that whipped around his wingtips.
And he just... stood there. Did not come close, which the hatchlings unfortunately did not know was for their own protection. Even though their equally chilled mother touched each of them with her snout, the child still felt empty, somehow. He wanted to stay. He wanted to learn, about the islandic icy taiga, about his clan, about his mysterious father.
The distant dragon, the clan leader, the frigid enigma... who would never look at his children.
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Exalting Aquilo to the service of the Arcanist 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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