Atropina

Unfettered

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Named after atropine, a toxin named after its source, Atropa belladonna, which Italian women during the Renaissance would use to dilate their pupils to try to make them look more beautiful. Other members of the nightshade family, including those of the genus Datura (eponymous dragon) also produce atropine.

Atropa: after Atropos (ancient Greek; "without turn"), one of the three Morai or Fates of Greek mythology, whom Clement of Alexandria called "the Inflexible One"

Polytropos: (ancient Greek; "many turns") the fifth word of Homer's Odyssey, an epithet for the eponymous character. Ambiguity exists as to whether fate turns Odysseus or Odysseys twists and turns himself and others to escape situations. Translated into English by classicist Emily Wilson as "complicated".

Lachesis: Atropos' sister and the Fate who measures out the thread of life for Atropos to cut (fellow fiber artist)

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Starry Ampelope Familiar The speckled patterns that dot this antelope's flank resemble a cluster of constellations. 2300

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From Ilmari's lore, written 2020-07-21ish

Tyrian then sent Ilmari off to Atropina to have his travel logs tidied.

As she updated (and fixed some of) the magical links to the various clans he had visited, Ilmari said, "The paper sign on your door." Flimsily tacked on with a strip of blue painter's tape.

"Hm?" She flicked her gaze over to him before resuming her work. "What about it?"

"It says, 'Unfettered.'" Scrawled in a blue pencil whose shade matched the tape. "What does that mean?"

"Dragons are deeply intertwined with the magic of Sornieth," she replied, "and often with Fate, the great driver of the cosmos." She turned a page and brushed the dust away. "I have untwisted my path from Fate."

Or she thinks she has. "Unfettered," Ilmari repeated instead.

Atropina nodded. "Fate often turns you away from a straight path to your heart's yearning." She propped herself up, elbows on desk. "But I am not free. From responsibility for my path, for my destination, for example. No pun intended." She winked. "Those now rest in my grasp and mine alone." She returned to clucking over the state of Ilmari's logs.

Freedom. Power. Responsibility. That night, Ilmari mulled over Atropina's words as the wind tousling the forest canopy lulled him to sleep.

The next morning, he returned to ask her more, but befitting her species' and her flight's reputations, she put him to work organizing the clan records. As the weeks passed, they continued working side-by-side. During breaks, they would share tea, swap tales and jokes over the riverbanks. He confided in her his fears. She confided in him her worries. And Ilmari could no longer ignore that the most recent layers of his pearl had all cured into a fluorescent aqua.

The color of Atropina's eyes.

When he showed her, heart in his throat, she pressed her snout to his. "I choose you, too, silly."

They had three hatchlings. Ilmari fretted about them, finding their place, their future, but Atropina simply kissed him and said, "I've learned from helping out in the crèches that they grow up so fast. Soon, they'll have to choose for themselves; we won't always be there to help them. Enjoy this while it lasts." She sighed.

He pressed his snout to hers. "A silly bit of wisdom from this old parent to a new one." He poked her, earning a giggle. "Fleeting joy is still joy." To his surprise, his own words gave him a measure of peace. Perhaps he'd needed them, too.

In the middle of a game of "Bear, Bear, Mimic!" with Atropina, the hatchlings, and others of the crèche, Tyrian sent for him. "I've managed to secure a narrow window of opportunity," she said, "You leave for the Plateau in three days."