Parish

Parish
Exaltee Trainer
Mate - Borealis

With her mother feeling the same call to arms as her grandfather did she is currently training to be her successor. She presents herself as having a heart of ice to hide the fact that all she wants is the cycle of of raising hapless hatchlings to war machines to end. She'd give anything to have her mother back and misses her very dearly.





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Parish couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten a peaceful night’s rest without the image of her mother haunting her dreams. It wasn’t as though she hated seeing her mother’s face, quite the opposite rather. Parish missed the gentle dragon so dearly it shook her to her core even though years had passed since her mother had taken her last breath.
Prying her eyes open to force herself awake, Parish let out a tired sigh and wiped away a stray tear as she stood up and got ready for another day. She walked over to a small corner of her cave that was decorated with some of her mother’s things and couldn’t help but let her maw twitch upwards when she saw a pair of purple armbands. Her mother had looked so radiant when she wore those.
Parish closed her eyes and allowed the sweet memory of happier times overtake her. She remembered it as if it was yesterday when it had in fact been when she was much younger. In her mind Parish could see her younger self playfully flop on her mother’s tail, her eyes twinkling as she gazed at the bows. They flowed so gently in the soft breeze and she reached out to gently touch one.
“Mama! They look so pretty!”
Her mother gave a gentle laugh and curled up next to her beloved daughter. “When you come of age, you may have these. I’m sure you will look lovely in them my dear!”
Parish sighed deeply as she dispelled the memory and fastened the bows to her arms. She thought they suited her mother better but wore them anyways to have a connection with the departed dragon.
It shouldn’t have had to be like this… How could those monsters send her to the Arcanist? Merciless, vile dragons… I hate them for this… I hate them all! Parish thought bitterly as she trudged outside to start her day. It was hard blocking out all thoughts of her mother, but she pressed down on those memories and made her way to the training grounds.
Upon her arrival, she noticed two younger dragons play-fighting and couldn’t help but grunt in irritation. The two younglings immediately stopped and stood at attention, a tinge of fear in their eyes as they looked at Parish.
“Does being trained for exaltion sound like a game to you children? How can you even have the spirit to run amuck?!” Parish growled out. She knew it was a strong reaction… but seeing the two playing so gleefully when she knew what their fate was…
“We’re sorry Miss Parish. It won’t happen again.” The elder of the two spoke quietly before they both darted off. Indeed, seeing their bright smiles when she knew they would be gone within the year…
It broke her heart like nothing else in Sornieth.
Leaving before her emotions could take hold of her, she walked towards the clearing where she saw her superior and listened with feigned interest as orders were barked out to her. Parish was so preoccupied trying to keep her emotions in check that she almost missed what her orders were. She nodded to the other dragon and grabbed the food supplies she had been ordered to take to the training grounds… the grounds where so many were hurt each day just for exaltion preparation…
Parish shook her head sharply to clear it. Now was not the time. Later, she promised herself, she will hide in her cave and grieve in solitude for the younglings. Later, she will pray in earnest to the Eleven that someone save thee children from the horrors they had no reason to endure…
As she approached the training area, she could make out a large fenced area and as she got closer, she could hear combat training taking place. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat she kept walking and tuned out the pained grunts and stifled sobs from the other end of the fence.
When she got to the drop off area, she wasted no time placing the baskets of food on the bone slabs and practically flew away from the area. She knew she shouldn’t have, she knew she would regret it, but she couldn’t help but turn around on her way out to peer through one of the gaps in the fence.
Frozen in place now, her blood ran cold and she felt sick to her stomach at the sight before her.
A young tundra dragon who looked to be a new initiate was collapsed on the ground, his breathing labored and limbs trembling from the overexerting training. He tried his best to force himself upright but gave a weak noise as he fell back onto the ground. Parish had to hold in her screams as the Instructor came by to roughly haul the youngling off to Plaguebringer knows where.
Shaking her head as she stepped back, Parish put her emotions behind a mask as she heard someone approaching. She hastened to return to what she was doing when she saw the Exaltion Instructor dragging the young tundra by his scruff.
“Parish! I need you to take this one to the training camp in Rotrock Rim. He’s not improving at all and we’re sending off the new batch for exaltion by the end of the next moon.”
The youngling was limp and his breathing shallow as the Instructor nearly threw him on Parish’s back. The guardian felt her heart clench but managed to ask with an even voice if taking the child to the harshest training camp in The Scarred Wasteland was a good idea.
“Hah! If we can’t knock some strength into him here than the Instructors at Rotrock will.” The dragon said coldly before walking off with an irritated haunch in her shoulders. Parish craned her neck to look at the unconscious tundra on her back. What she saw made her avert her eyes and bolt away to Rotrock Rim, doubting she would be able to keep her stony gaze in place much longer.
The child had a striking resemblance to her grandfather, an Arcane dragon who had been sent off for exaltion…. But to the Plaguebringer rather than the Arcanist. She was young when he had left them, but remembered nothing but kindness in his smiles.
Would this child grow to be a kind soul as well if given the chance? Parish wondered to herself as she forced her legs to walk on the path to the Rotrock training camp, where some initiates were rumored to not even survive to exaltion. Parish had been there once, and the pained cries of those in training still haunted her to this day. How could this child on her back survive there? He was hardly breathing as it was! He wouldn’t last a week, or a day even if he…
“No.”
Parish growled and dug her talons into the ground as the thought of the young tundra dying in an exaltion camp slammed into her. Giving another low growl, Parish stomped off the path and headed westward.
She will save this one’s life. She didn’t know if this would work… but she had no other idea of what to do. If she tried hiding this youngling anywhere in the Scarred Wasteland, the Instructors would find him eventually, no matter how well protected or hidden he was.
Her only other option was this….
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Parish’s breaths came out in gasps as she ran through the Wandering Contagion. Brambles and thorns snagged at every inch of her, but she dared not lower her wings for the still unconscious tundra was nestled between them.
Flying would be a much faster method of transporting them yes, but she couldn’t afford for any Instructors or Scouts to see her. If they couldn’t have mercy in their hearts for the younglings, she highly doubted she would be shown an ounce of compassion should she be found doing this.
Thankfully the youngling’s breathing had gone back to normal, and she could feel his heart beating at a healthier rate. He was battered and bruised, but still very much alive and Parish could not be more thankful for that.
The sun had nearly set when the rotting vines and infected grounds gave way to soft pastel dirt and the occasional blue wisp that danced around before flickering out. Feeling the magic that enveloped the area spurred her onwards. She was nearly there! If she could get to the Focal Point, the child would be safe since none of the instructors would risk crossing to the island… she hoped.
Shaking her head of the doubts swirling inside it, she rushed through what was now clearly the Starwood Strand. Not even pausing to admire the magically imbued trees, she pressed on until she heard rushing water. This was it!
Parish grimaced as she came up to the edge of the cliff and looked downwards. It was a long drop, but they would be fine. She wished she could fly them over, but Parish knew the Scouts were always patrolling, and even this far out they would more than likely see her should she travel skywards. Bracing herself, she got a running start before flinging herself into the water below and swimming through the harsh currents.
Not surprisingly, she felt the tundra on her back begin to wake and move around sluggishly.
“Don’t move around. You’re hurt, and it would be troublesome if I have to save you from drowning should you fall off.” The currents were picking up around them, but Parish continued to surge forward.
The poor child had to cough multiple times before he could get a raspy sentence out. “Miss Parish? W-where are we?”
The guardian narrowed her eyes as she saw rocky land in the not too far distance. They were nearly there. “We’re on our way to the Focal Point. Now no more questions, we are in a hurry.”
It bothered Parish more than it should have that the tundra just obediently did as he was told. She wondered if he had been inquisitive and playful before he had been taken to the camps.
Parish was a naturally talented swimmer, so it didn’t take long for them to reach land. The only thing that stood in their way were cliffs, but they were finally far enough away from the Scouts viewpoints to fly safely.
“Hold on tightly young one.” She instructed, but in a gentler voice than before. Once she felt the tundra’s grip tighten sufficiently Parish launched herself into the air, reaching the top of the cliff in mere minutes.
Looking around at the lush area Parish felt herself relax slightly. With an abundance of food and areas available for potential shelter, the tundra was sure to survive here. Now she just needed to do something about his injuries…
A rustle from a nearby grove of trees made Parish rear up and bare her fangs. They were not alone, she thought as her wings fanned out to hide the youngling from view. By the Eleven she would not let anything happen to this child.
Prepared to lunge at a moments notice, she watched with narrowed eyes as a magenta colored wildclaw appeared from the wooded area. The wildclaw’s pink eyes looked at Parish inquisitively before scanning the area around them.
“I thought I smelled blood. Is everything alright traveler?” She asked with a slight tilt to her head.
“We have no business with you.” Parish’s icy expression was back in place as she gave a sharp answer.
“We? Are there others—Oh!” The wildclaw broke off with a startled gasp when she saw the tundra peek out from behind the other’s wings. “That child is injured!” The wildclaw fretted before coming closer to them. Parish gave a low warning growl and reared her head.
“If you hurt this child you will pay dearly for it.”
The wildclaw stopped in her tracks and shook her head slowly. “I have no intention to harm. I’m a healer! Please, those injuries look bad. I can help.” She reached for a bag around her waist, a medicinal bag filled to the brim with herbs and solutions.
Parish was about to argue further, but a whimper from the young one silenced all protests she had. “Alright. Do not hurt him.” Parish demanded as she gently lowered the tundra onto a spot on the ground by the wildclaw.
“M-miss Parish...” The tundra whimpered as the wildclaw immediately began inspecting and dressing the injuries.
“I’m right here. No one is going to hurt you.” Parish let a small smile slip, just to reassure him. It seemed to work since he relaxed when the healer wrapped bandages around the more severe lacerations. She was efficient with her work and within no time had finished. The young dragon had fallen asleep at some point, so Parish was extremely careful as she scooped him onto her back once more.
“I’m sorry but…. May I ask how he got those injuries? Some of them looked at least a week old…” The wildclaw said with a concerned frown.
Parish grimaced and shook her head. “Exaltion camp.” She murmured knowing that would be explanation enough. The horrors of Exaltion camps weren’t exactly unheard of. With a sigh she continued, feeling an odd sense of relief as the words spilled from her maw.
How long has it been since she voiced her woes to another?
“The Instructors wanted me to take him to our most horrendous camp…” Parish grit her fangs. “I couldn’t do it…”
“So, you escaped with him here?” The wildclaw inquired but was shocked when the guardian shook her head.
“I’m going back. I must. He… will be fine here. There is much foliage and sheltered areas near us, so he will survive.” Parish sighed before looking eastward, where she could see the faint outline of The Wandering Contagion. “Besides, if I don’t tell them that I ‘unfortunately lost the youngling’ they’ll come searching… I won’t let those monsters find him.”
The wildclaw nodded once before she spoke up again. “I could take him. My clan can keep him safe, teach him how to use the magic in the area. We can give him a happy future.”
Parish narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not just going to send him off to the Arcanist?”
The wildclaw looked down, seemingly lost in thought before she looked Parish in the eyes, not wavering for a moment as she spoke.
“I have no way to prove my words. You have no reason to trust me, and I understand that. But you can’t just leave him here to fend for himself. The beastclans that roam these parts are dangerous and I will throw myself off the Observatory before I let any harm come to an innocent child!” The wildclaw’s pink eyes bored into Parish’s red ones, never once relenting in their intense gaze.
After a few long moments, Parish sighed and very slowly lowered her wings, allowing the wildclaw to take the still sleeping tundra. As the wildclaw gently cradled him in her arms Parish spoke in the most bone chilling voice she has ever uttered.
“If I find out you have let harm befall this child, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
The wildclaw nodded, not put off by Parish’s threat in the slightest. “I swear by the Eleven I will protect him. He is a fellow clanmate now… he can grow up learning magic and playing in the flower fields with the other young ones. I promise, he will be safe here.”
Parish wanted nothing more than to stay by the child’s side to ensure his safety herself, but the sun was nearly vanishing over the horizon and she knew it was time for her to return home. Turning her back to start the trek homeward, she glanced behind her one last time.
“Thank you.” She murmured before flying off into the now darkened sky, not seeing the wildclaw’s kind smile as they went their respective ways.
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For once, Parish slept soundly as she dreamt of a young tundra surrounded by his friends. Parish snorted in amusement as she watched them run amuck in a field of magical flowers.


Lore written by @FoxIsSilver