Leon

༻ L E O N ༺ Egotistical | Deadly | Flighty O C C U P A T I O N - Bounty Hunter M A T E - n/a E N E M Y - Whoever he's paid to kill F A M I L I A R - Mossy Pohip T H E M E - INSERT x

"If you pine for oblivion so, who am I to deny you? In fact, I may even help you along!" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Leon was born a nobody. A lonely, abandoned egg hatched in a strange clan with a taste for blood. They were killers, all of them each in their own unique way. Poison-makers, assassins, and flat-out warriors were just a few roles in the clan. The doctor scared him the most as a young hatchling. They took him under their wing, no questions asked and no discrimination. Quickly he learned the rules of the land, “kill or be killed,” they all said. Years passed and he was no longer a novelty in the clan; the story about his abandoned egg slowly drifted away from the nightly campfire stories. Leon stopped caring about where he came from and only cared about where he was now. As far as he was concerned, he was an orphan and his parents clearly didn’t want him. What he didn’t know was that his egg was stolen. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Up, up, up! Time to go!” I groan as the curtains that are my door are thrown open, allowing light to enter my room. “Poison practice, Leon!” I groan again and roll over away from the voice. After a few seconds, I felt a presence leaning behind me.”Leon,” the voice drawled in a low tone, “you know, Djeserde won’t be too happy if you miss a practice.” The voice became softer, “and I wouldn’t be too happy if you lost your rank.” Sharp claws poked his back, “come on, get up,” the voice whined. I cover my eyes from the light with my old flat pillow. “Bad Zya, mean Zya,” I mumbled, “waking me up so early is not nice.” Zya lies down next to me, “you know I’m not nice. Why is this a surprise?” She grabs me around my chest with her long Skydancer arms and buries her head in my neck. I start to drift back into a warm happy sleep when suddenly her grip tightens she throws me off of my bed. It's a moment of panic and flailing limbs as I try to remember where I am and who's attacking me. As soon as my heart rate settles I see Zya looking down on me quite triumphantly and proud of herself. “Look who’s awake now.” I sigh and begrudgingly stand up. “Zya you are so mean-” “But you love me anyway.” She chirps.

“Mmm-hmmm. Something like that,” I murmur. I finally stand up and she affectionately nuzzles me.

“I’ll wait for you outside and then we can go to Djeserde’s together.” Zya smiles at me and goes outside as I start gathering my things for the day. It’s going to be a long day.



My room was a mess. Actually, my whole shack was a mess. It was messily put together many years ago and held together at this point by patchwork. That was the first right of passage, build your own home and survive. Since I hadn't yet caught some killer disease from the elements or had the roof fall on me yet, I say I did a pretty damn good job.

Scattered around my room was all my books and papers. Some of them were my profession, others were my obsession. Zya made fun of me for my little research project, but to me, it was no joke. Dozens upon dozens of histories and biographies were all written with the same tone and voice (Zya said it was just how scholars write) and all had a particular thumbprint to them. In recent years, I began to discover more books written by one called the "Chronicler," whose tone and style matched that of books written hundreds and thousands of years ago.

Jax laughed and told me to focus more on my profession. Djeserde said it was all mere speculation. Everyone in the clan had their own negative opinions on it; Zya only poked a little fun at it, but otherwise, put up with me and my studies so long as I didn't fall in rank.

The ability to kill here was so highly valued that you were essentially graded on it. The more ways you could kill a dragon the higher rank could be, but in addition to this if you were really proficient in one way you could be higher than a 'jack-of-all-trades.' It was all a little confusing at first, but I learned fast and I learned how to be highly valued. I know everything and am really good at everything. I'm highly ranked and often hired by other dragons as a bounty hunter, which brings in a lot of treasure for the clan. Which is why Zya's threat of dropping in rank means so little to me, I'm too valued here; the only reason why I'm not a leader is that I'm so young.

After grabbing all my supplies and shrugging a loose shirt on, it gets cold in Mirrorlight Promenade during the winter, I join Zya outside, she already has all of her poison and herb kits with her since that's her specialty, poison. She loves wearing dark, sparkly things that match her rather unnatural antlers which is a dark contrast to her otherwise bright colors. Despite it all, she makes quite the deadly moonlight mistress. She catches me looking at her new dress and shoots me a smirk, I roll my eyes and motion we start heading towards Djeserde's posion maker tent.

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