Milo

Milo came from a clan that worshipped psychopomps, entities that guided the souls of the dead into their next lives, or perhaps, what lies beyond. They taught of the Flamecaller's fire returning the body to ash that the spark of life may start anew, of the Windsinger creating ethereal winds for souls to follow to what lies beyond, of the Shadowbinder taking in lost souls and granting them safe passage through the dark. Though Milo holds their teachings close to heart, the denizens of the clan were far too grim for his taste. So one day, he left, setting out with nothing to his name. For a while, he was content to see the world, sharing the stories he'd heard and offering comforting words to those who felt the pain of loss. (Somehow, he always knew who did.)

Milo found himself staying at Moonwake initially to trade stories with everyone. There were so many dragons, with so many tales to tell, and plenty who wished to hear the mythos he was taught from a young age and the stories he had collected on his travels. He found himself delaying his leave, and realized soon enough that he wished to stay. It was nice. Everyone was so vibrant and alive, the sky burst into bloom each night, and best of all, no one questioned the petals that swirled around Milo, their movements never catching the eye as much as they should have and that always shied away from touch. No one questioned how he knew when someone bore the pain of loss, how he knew so well how to comfort them. No one questioned him whenever he mentioned the spark of life, something so tangible to him but that no one else could see.

All things that begin must end, but such wonderful things have the chance to transpire in between.

Mourning is merely a chance to celebrate life.

Treats Lysandra as an adopted daughter. The two have very similar vibes, so vibrant and full of love for life.