Eulogy » Lair » Varia

Varia

(#48473771)

I found the crown of France laying in the gutter.

Familiar

Phoenix

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.82 m

Wingspan

6.75 m

Weight

570.49 kg

Genetics

Beige
Python

Coal
Morph

Goldenrod
Opal

Hatchday

Jan 11, 2019
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Pearlcatcher

Eye Type

Fire
Uncommon

Level 1 Pearlcatcher

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

Varia
"I found the crown of France laying in the gutter."

Home. You have not beheld its gates in ages. Odd how something so far away, and so vast, can fit into your heart so neatly. So safe, so snug, that the slightest change to it would cause you to fly to pieces.
“This message is for Gwyndolen’s eyes alone. Under no circumstances are you to open it,” you are instructed, as the letter is thrust into your paws. You are told that this humble-looking missive is of critical importance, but you don’t need to hear that; you already know. It will give you a reason to fly to your home clan, and that is all you need. You yearn to have your clan around you again, instead of straining against the walls of your heart—the heart can hold only so much longing, after all.
The night approaches in towering clouds of smoke, and you exult in the sight, as familiar and beloved to you as your own mother’s face. You fling yourself into the clouds as you would into her arms, and you inhale it—the scent, warm and comforting, of sweet, smoke-scented home.
You cough, and that small motion shakes you, deep in your bones, your soul. A Fire dragoness, coughing? It must be something in the smoke. “There’s too much smoke,” you realize, and you up your pace. Wings beating hard, heart thundering around that fragile memory of home. But the night is long and relentless; it does not yield to your fears.
You are left floundering in the darkness. You struggle to breathe. You must stay calm, you must, or else your heart will break....
You can take no more. You must have respite, or else you’ll die in the clouds. Lower you go, still lower, and there’s the ground at last. A sheet of pale gray rock, inviting you to land.
You descend—and you were cruelly deceived. It isn’t stone at all, but ash. What stone there is left is buried beneath meters and meters of ash, fine gray dust that covers your face and threatens to pour into your throat—
You burst loose, and below you, the ash covers up the void you left. You will not be deceived again; you cannot afford to be. Your throat burns, your wings scream with pain, but you will not die here, drowning beneath drifts of ash. A spark of life continues guttering within you, and you draw on it and fly on.
A dragon? They must be—there, rooting at the foot of a cliff. But the face that turns towards you has been charred into featurelessness, and the only sounds it makes are gurgling rasps, from some unholy place deep inside its throat. Its claws reach towards you, curling and uncurling, with a hunger that is all too easy to understand.
You flee in terror, and when you look back, the thing is gone. It should fill you with relief. It does not. You no longer know where it is.
You don’t know how many of them are out there.
—“I have a message for Gwyndolen...”
You have no description to draw on. You only have a name.
—“I’m looking for Gwyndolen. Gwyndolen of Ashland.”
—“Hah! No, this is Crossfire, where the party never stops!”
Wrong person, wrong place. You have to turn away....
—“I need to find Gwyndolen. Have you seen Gwyndolen?”
—“My name is Starling. I’m here to investigate...Wait, are you all right?”
Not Gwyndolen, not Gwyndolen. Again you turn away....
You clutch the letter close to your heart. Something else was there once, but it is...gone. So many things have gone.
This letter will have to do for now. It reminds you that there’s a world beyond the endless smoke, that you have a mission, that there is someone from your home clan who might be glad to see your face.
This letter will not fill the void in your heart; you must accept that much. But, at the very least, it will give you a reason to fly. At least until...
“Excuse me, I’m looking for someone. Gwyndolen of Ashland?”

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users

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Exalting Varia to the service of the Flamecaller 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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