Tetsui

The dragon you never see in the Clan courtyard sits, slouched and dejected over a pile of half-charred, discarded parchment. His claws are black with spilled ink. He doesn't seem to notice you walk over, but then again, he's never acknowledged much of anything since he's arrived at your camp. With childlike wonder you find your gaze washing over the scene before you-- there was a lot more than just crumpled paper.

The poor imperial runt, who was still a great deal larger than you, I might add, had scratched through the paper, etching unintelligible markings into the stone slab beneath him. His claws, while yes, dripping ink, were considerably dull. One looked jagged, as if it had broken off.

You feel your heart wrench-- no one had tried to really get to know this dragon when he first arrived. He was welcomed, but you had found him to be quite reclusive. Now you seem to know why. The poor thing had an addled mind-- something dear was troubling him. You open your jaw, but close it, not quite sure how to form your question, or to announce your presence in the first place. Instead, you reach down and pick up an ink-stained page and begin to read to yourself.

You look up from the page, unsure of quite what to say. As you look up, you find your eyes meeting hollow purple as you stare directly into Tetsui's eyes.