FarewellInkwell
(#45440702)
Level 3 Fae
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
1.42 m
Wingspan
1.02 m
Weight
2.45 kg
Genetics
Spruce
Poison
Poison
Maroon
Trail
Trail
Emerald
Smirch
Smirch
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 3 Fae
EXP: 374 / 1401
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Lineage
Biography
//✩ A R L O/ /////////He/Him | //////////////////////////// | ///////// |
Age: Job: Song: |
9 (Adult Fae) Secretary xxx |
Arlo knows that the institute is bad. He's known it ever since he accepted the job, spending his days in a steady nine to five behind the desk in the great atrium. His completely unflappable demeanor makes him a vicious secretary, as well as someone who vets all incoming and outgoing dragons to make sure that it all flows together like clockwork. The institute might be bad, but it could be made a hell of a lot worse by someone who doesn't know what they're doing. Something that he, uniquely, is qualified to do. Despite his understandable reluctance, there are dragons he gets along with. Those who similarly know the risks and take measures to understand them are alright, in his perfectly organized book. |
He did not stop writing even when a large shadow fell over the entirety of his desk. Only when the figure let out an impatient hiss did he glance up over his half-moon glasses, his pen ceasing its steady dance across the page. The creature that stood in front of him could pretend to be a dragon all it liked, but just from the glance he could tell this wasn’t the case. Bits of darkness leaked away from their outline, and he could not recognize a Being in the way they looked at him. For a moment, there was complete silence that he made no move to break. It forced the creature to initiate the conversation. “Where is Basil?” They asked in a low growl. Arlo looked down at the papers strewn across his desk. He took his time tracing the schedules, then tapped the one he was looking for with one claw. “He’s busy.” “I didn’t ask how busy he was, where is he?” The not-dragon demanded with a flurry of melted shadow shaken loose from their hide. The look he received from Arlo remained steady and unamused. “Even if you went up to his office, you wouldn’t be able to get in to see him. So let me tell you this.” Arlo closed his notebook, allowing the tension in the air to thin and stretch towards near unbearable levels, sharpening his point to the razor edge of a quill. “If you pull up a cushion and wait about three hours, you might be able to catch him if he decides to get lunch.” His frills tilted forward and sideways, the Fae approximation of doubt. He then leaned forward, his look meaningful. “Or. Or. You can come through official channels and schedule an appointment. He’ll be obligated to see you, and you won’t have to threaten either me, or him, to do it.” Arlo scanned the expression of the creature who, even to his limited experience with body language, looked slightly thrown. He couldn’t imagine that their intimidation tactics had ever had so little effect. “...Fine.” It rumbled, and Arlo flicked his fins in an eye roll. He reached for his schedule binder and opened it to the most recent dates, pages upon pages booked in smooth, black ink. “Wonderful. Let me see where I can fit you in.” |
━━━━━ ✩ ━━━━━
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This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
Exalting FarewellInkwell to the service of the Plaguebringer will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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