Athexreh » Hibernal Den » Whiskers

Whiskers

(#41978204)

Level 25 Fae

Familiar

Platewing Messenger

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

0.74 m

Wingspan

1.34 m

Weight

2.73 kg

Genetics

Peach
Basic

Sand
Basic

Chartreuse
Basic

Hatchday

May 26, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Fae

Eye Type

Nature
Common

Level 25 Fae

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

Whiskers The familiar

Dragging himself over the lip of the half-opened window, Whiskers plopped back into the house with a small clatter of displaced books and a puff of orange fur. For a moment the cat simply lay there, the darkened room spinning around him. Closing his eyes did nothing, and the overwhelming stench of thyme, dust, and self-loathing that permeated the air was not entirely his own. Perfect.

Struggling to his feet, he slid down from the cluttered table and hunched under the heavy shadow it casted. Whiskers let out a low, keening sound as he shifted to inspect himself. He was living on borrowed time- had been for a while, actually- but that didn’t help the bolt of distress that coiled in his stomach at the sight. His normally bright fur had dulled and was starting to flake and, through the tiny rips the coiling ropes of magic that made up his entirety could be seen shifting below.

He’d overdone it.

With a hiss that had his tail flicking behind him, the small cat pressed a paw against his side. The fur was warm and sticky and his paw came away covered in amber sap. That was.. very not good. Still, he was in far better shape than the other cat- or, well, what was left of them, at any rate. The small trill of satisfaction quickly turned sour in his mouth.

He really needed to get that taken care of. The sooner, the better. Already the tightly woven coils of magic were starting to loosen and his paws felt heavy as he shifted to stand. Just a quick trip-

Laughter trickled under the door and Whisker’s expression darkened. That practically ruined his plans- he’d completely forgotten his caretakers were having company over. And, knowing Revellous, the entire rag-tag group was there. And wouldn’t be leaving soon. With the extreme paranoia and vigilance the other eclipselings shared, there was no way he was going anywhere near them looking as bedraggled as he was. Being as hungry as he was.

Resigning himself to a long evening of discomfort at best and- he wasn’t even going to entertain the thought of anything else. He curled up on the cold, stone floor feeling slightly woozy and disconnected from his own form.

Before he could drift into an uneasy sleep, the sound of soft paws drawing closer startled him. Blinking away the fuzziness in the corners of his eyes, he half turned to give the approaching mirror a half-hearted glare.

Of course Desolan had found him when he’d most wanted to be alone. The dragon clearly had it out for him. Which was completely unfair. He and Revellous had an understanding long before that cursed soul stepped in and ruined everything. Hissing, he curled further into the darkness, a satisfied smirk threatening to appear on his face when the dragon flinched and spun to face him.

There was an unfamiliar tenseness in the mirror’s posture. A flash of wickedly sharp teeth and glowing narrowed eyes. And then the dragon stumbled half a step as the curse wound around his soul sapped his strength. The stiffness in his posture bled away and he stared dully at the small feline figure.

Whiskers balked at the unexpected display, the aborted flash of magic threatening to lash out at him irritating the gaps in his own fur. There was something suddenly unsettling about the blank look on the dragon’s face after that previous display. He shifted forward, nose quivering, as he eased into a more visible spot.

The movement caught Desolan’s attention and the dragon tilted his head as a sickly sweet scent caught his nose. It was slightly coppery and mostly reminded him of rotten fruit. He eased onto his stomach and gave Whiskers a curious look. A paw inched forward and he tapped out a series of patterns.

Whiskers didn’t look at him as he considered the question. He most certainly was not ok, but did he want to share that? He wasn’t sure. Still… Ears flat against his head, whiskers tapped back a clipped hurt.

Desolan whined, looking extremely uncomfortable. Whiskers understood. It was the first time they’d interacted without the overbearing presence of Revelous hanging over them.

help?

Eyes shooting up to meet the dragon, Whiskers simply stared. There was a brightness he’d never seen. An eagerness in the way Desolan’s tail wagged behind him. It had him stepping out from under the table before he’d made the conscious decision to do so.

He really shouldn’t have.

Desolan froze, eyes comically wide. There was little to be laughing at, though. Whisker’s form had loosened to the point that the sudden motion had nearly shaken him apart. Undulating vines slipped from the widening gaps of his fur. They twitched under his paws- warm and stinking of ~~stolen~~ borrowed magic- and he was fairly sure there was very little left of his feline form. A few patches of orange fluff gripped tightly between the coils of clenched vines. Deep in the center of his being, a faint light shone weakly, dimming even as he stood under the dragon’s stare.

~~Pity~~ Understanding seemed to flit across Desolan’s face for a moment before he flicked his ears. With a long exhale that seemed to take the last lingering bits of tension from his frame, the mirror tilted his head.

The motion exposed the delicate curve of his throat and Whiskers pounced. Vines latched onto the squirming frame- weaving between limbs and pulling taut- entirely of their own accord. Sharp, elongated fangs dug into the soft flesh and the mouthful of fur in his maw did little to dissuade his hunger.

But, more importantly, the sweet taste of magic was sparkling along his form. It was impossible to describe the intoxicating bubble along his tongue.

There were echos of Revelous’ magic- constricting and binding- that he pushed past without his usual tact.

There was a searing, layer of loathing and hatred and ash that scorched his tongue.

And there, nestled in all of that, was the deepest well of ice that he’d ever encountered. It soothed away at the lingering burn. It calmed the choking grip of the vines at his core. It was a sheet of unperturbed glass that broke and splintered under his attention- bleeding through paper thin cracks that spiderwebbed past his awareness. His only focus was the bubbling spring of raw magic pliant under his paws.

Dimly he was aware of the other’s failing struggles. Of the increasingly labored breathing. Of the sputtering, guttering magic. And, with a herculean effort, Whiskers drew back. There was a bright smear of lavender staining his maw and,, as he watched, bright beads of the same color oozed down Desolan’s throat.

He lapped at them with a long, languid swipes, noting how the dragon flinched as his rough tongue ran over the fresh wounds.

Taking a moment to straighten out his form, Whiskers shook himself off, immensely pleased at the solid way everything fit together. He was back to looking normal, although he was sure his eyes were glowing the same shade as Desolan’s magic. It wasn’t as deplorable a thought as he expected it to be.

better? Desolan tapped out. His motions were slow and his eyes were hazy.

Whiskers considered it for a moment. He felt full. Content, even. The aches of his earlier skirmish and the downright disturbing information he’d learned were distant worries. With a low purr he pressed his face against Desolan’s forehead.

The dragon’s eyes slid closed and deep even breathing stretched out between them.

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0/1000

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Whiskers to the service of the Icewarden 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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