Andrei

Past Andrei's past was shrouded in mystery, and not because of some sort of trauma or apparent hostility. Merely being a stoic, intimidating Guardian caused many-a questioning few to completely disregard any attempts at socialization. Now, Andrei is by no means a teddy bear. He has slaughtered many encroaching Beastclan and wild animals threatening the bounds of both Elpida and, Wings of Belka. Present Now, the older dragon resides at the top of the commanding line of the Enclave's forces, magical and physical. While assisted by Ori in the Trispire and Demarcus in the Bivouac, ultimately it is the cyan guardian who decides moves against enemies and tactical positions in which to develop strongholds across Sornieth. Said strongholds are not strictly built for Elpida, either. Many are constructed via commission from other clans, or a gift of added security to far reaching allies in case of emergencies. At the end of the day, after many hours stoically giving orders and critically analyzing moves of the enemy, Andrei finds himself looking up at the stars and reflecting on life. Of all the older guardians he knew, he alone has yet to find his charge.

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He didn't know what was happening at first, all he could remember was feeling sick and sluggish. He became plagued with unfamiliar memories, of perilous caverns and harrowing pitfalls, of magnificent displays of geodes bigger then the tallest Ridgebacks he's ever met. Crystals in colors he couldn't even begin to actually formulate to his mates at the council table. For weeks he was under temporary discharge, lying in cold sweat as his muscles tensed from these hauntingly beautiful places filled his mind. Poor Esther refused to leave the older guardian's side, bringing him water and food, blankets and comfort. Medicines that would dull the throbbing ache he felt deep within the pit of his stomach- no, soul. This ache echoed through him as if he was a husk or a foul, empty cave. Eventually, bit by bit, the Guardian refused to eat at all.

The bombardment of empty, false memories eventually got to him as he lay silent in his bed. He felt almost paralyzed, one good eye frantically searching the room as his voice refused to cooperate. He felt fear and dread creep in, panic seizing his heart as flashes from battles and wars waged against the beasts of this realm invaded the territory of his mind. Flashes to his younger days, desperately protecting his clutch of soldiers he called friends from a flock of Basilisk, this sensation horribly familiar. The dread of slow petrification, of being turned to stone. Silent tears fell thickly from his eyes as he was helpless to this unseen, slow-moving enemy. He slipped into the darkness, afraid and alone.

Maybe the evidence of his petrifaction was glaring and obvious as the older guardian began to slow crystalized ridges along not only the rough leathery scape of his head, but a cluster of scale-like crystals over his wings and spine. Only slightly did these rough, crystal scales did show on his thighs and feet, oftentimes the root of which are old scars from long forgotten wars. Or maybe, some dismissed this strange beauty as a blessing and honorable symbol of the old god's love. Love or maybe even jealousy, some mused behind his back. Younger dragons, battle-bound and bright-eyed, looked upon him often as an idol. The Warrior to be.

Esther cried for the first time in years.

Her tiny, fae claws gripped onto the blanket with all the strength her form could muster, vision blurry and sobs deafening. Her shoulders hunched as she bent over, shaking violently. She had a feeling it was coming...but the death of an old and dear friend is never easy. Her extravagant silks and delicate filigree long forgotten as she reeled from the pure shock of this all. How is she to deliver the news? How could she be so unprofessional?

Andrei didn't wake alone. The soft whisperings and wishful, mournful voices woke him from the best sleep he's had in weeks. He recognized his friends long before he opened his eyes fully to see them. They were mourning, but why? Had something truly unfathomable happen? Was his home attacked while he was in deep slumber? Shaking off what felt like layers of mud, his one good although icy eye searched their faces. The first words barely muttered from his new form.

"Is everyone alright?"