Snow

She/Her

Name Pronounciation Snow Mate Familiar Elet Job Pack Leader (Communications/Peace)

Snow

Extra details

-Congratulations, Snow! You get an insecurity in how smart you are!
-Not the smartest. Makes up for it in social skills.
-Dislikes conflict.
-Dislikes Ferocia enough to get into conflict.
-Probably dislikes Ferocia because he's so into fire.
-Loves Orca a lot.
-Likes cleanliness.
-Wants children. Doesn't know if Orca feels the same.
-Has a giant sweet tooth.

---

ch. 0
Glass Shards

Snow is the warmest furnace in the coldest lands. It’s white blankets on soft grass, yet it causes frostbite. When you lay in it, you get wet, freezing, and happy. The type of pain you can embrace.

It’s always a bad idea to climb a mountain. You’re risking your life so you can feel taller, so the rush of ‘I didn’t die!’ can swallow you. If you die, you have no one to blame but yourself.

Sometimes, the weight of snow is just too much, and gravity will simply slide it down. This is known as an avalanche. Snow believes she was abandoned on a mountain. This is the real event that caused Snow’s birth. Never tell her.

The white sheets of frost slammed into bodies, wings flapping utterly too slow to escape, the roars of terror and the crushing of trees all in one, hidden area, nowhere close enough for help. And, well, you get the idea.

But magic leaked out of the bodies, and not back into the earth. Its mass coalesced into forming an egg. This egg, like all other eggs, hatched. And out came an innocent hatchling, formed from tragedy, cursed at birth.

She sniffed plants and metal, and she felt fur on her skin, and long after that, she smelt a fireplace. Her eyes opened for the first time. A house made of brick, bookshelves lining the walls. Chairs sat in front of the fireplace, a carpet under it. A stray fern pot in a corner. She looked up, at the face of a metal-adorned head full of fur, mane, and two horns. The tundra’s eyes blinked at her and smiled.

The tundra named her snow, after the white frost she was found in. Half of the name came from a lack of creativity, no thanks to the tundra’s mate. They raised her together, as if she was their own. And she was.

“Cold.” She said. Snow’s first words came softly like flakes from a cloud. They held like a mirror to the rest of her life, always cold, always wanting something more.

Among the trees she leaped, covered in scrapes from failing to grab onto branches. Silver shined out of the corner of her eyes, and she slowly crawled back to it. Something about it spooked her. Her bags squelched with the sounds of slimy fish. The silver pot shook as a fox flew out of it and snapped one in its jaws. Snow tried to grab the offending fox, but her talons passed right through. It was about to slide back into its lamp when Snow offered it another one. The fox laughed, which disturbed her slightly. If she wasn’t enamored by those wispy ears, she might’ve just left it there.

Snow had commissioned a 26 sided die to help her name the fox. Creativity was not her strong suit, being raised by the dragons that named her Snow. It was a little malformed, since she was in a rush, weighted on the letter ‘e’. She rolled the die four times, tumbling onto a name that the fox disagreed with. Elet. A loud sigh and with a wet slop she pulled out another fish, silencing any complaints.

She returned home, determined to beg her dads to let her keep Elet. Surely they couldn’t refuse if she had already named it. She slid the door open, smelling the fireplace burning. Her talons slid on the carpet, pushing it a little too close to the flames. She rushed up the stairs, ignoring the increasing density of the smoke. After she checked every room, Snow realized her parents weren’t home. She took a deep breath in, and everything went achingly numb.

Unbeknownst to her, downstairs, her parents were just entering the house to find it up in flames. They were scrambling to search for her, splitting up and getting lost in the burning red, a garden of star-glory, alpine sorrel, blanket flowers, choking everything with searing fire. Family photos went up in an inferno. Both of them, sensing the grey had reached too far, almost in their lungs, crashed out a window. If not for the fact that their child had been found by neither, they would have chuckled together after they landed. They grappled each other, wailing, blue, yellow, green, orange, clinging tightly to all they had left.

Snow was snatched away, quietly, by a slightly misguided bird, and nested in a cave far, far away from anywhere she had known before. And when she woke up, she would have to do something about it.

Actually, that pencil sketching was tickling her ears. Her body felt absolutely wrecked, a headache pounding in her skull. She groaned, dragging her arm onto and off her face. A small yelp came from the same direction as the pencil. Her eyes opened to see a lovely forget-me-not- wait, that was a dragon.

“Are you alright? That was quite the fire I just dragged you out of, if you’re thirsty I have this.” The Spiral floundered to help her. They dragged a waterskin out of a satchel and held it up triumphantly. Snow raised her forearms slightly, splaying out her claws.

“Woah, you just saved me from a fire. I can’t owe you any more. What’s your name?” Snow asked. The Spiral, releasing herself from her thoughts, replied “Paintbrush.” In a flash of impulse and quick thinking, Snow told her to join her pack. A perfect lie, nothing to worry about, she was just going back to her dragons.

“Thanks, Paintie!” She shouted as she ran off into the woods.

Did she forget what happened to her? Her dads? No. She knew exactly why the fire happened. Snow knew it was all her fault. She laid down in the woods, mourning her loss, mourning her home. She couldn’t go back, because they might be dead, and she would rather never know.

And this pack she came up with on the spot, maybe she would actually do something with it.

She got up. She looked to the sky. It was split by the mountains of her birthplace. And then the mirror shattered.

ch. 0.5
Soylent Purple

School, the banality of every dragon in Sornieth. How she wished not to go here, with their endless lessons on subjects she didn't care about. Fighting was interesting, but ultimately not for her. Medicine was needlessly in-depth when all the average dragon needed was bandages and sticks. Hunting could easily have been fused into fighting to save everyone's time. Survival classes were the best they offered. They got to leave into the forest, exploring, and putting all the previous lessons into actual use. Oh, how she wished it was the only class she had.

She decides not to mope about this in front of all her friends. And especially not in front of their school lunch, which was worse than every wasted class combined. The cooks stirred pots, and fumes wafted into her crinkled nose. All the expired food headed directly here. Survival classes stressed the importance of not eschewing any food, especially if you wanted to travel. But this... was too much. Just to save on treasure. They would have to eat proper meals for breakfast and dinner. But didn't this have any kind of long lasting effect on dragons!? With this unnatural creation, wouldn't it do any long-term harm? Stressing these thoughts, she tore a bite out.

Her eyes lowered. She couldn't complain at all. The cushy life, where she never struggled in a warm, carpeted wooden house. The loving fathers, with their fur and softness. Something in her curled up, rotten, and longing. Wasn't life supposed to be more difficult? Shouldn't she climb mountains, have dreams? Find the heart left in the world?

She's caught off-guard by the drums signaling the end of lunch. Her unfinished soylent red sits on the plate in front of her.

"You okay, Snow? You were zoning out at the last minute there." A skydancer asks her, worried. She channels the happiness back into her scales, and starts complaining about classes. Telling only one of her friends... would be fine.
Shop Link
Shop Link
Shop I got it from
Actual shop link