Huxley

Serious|Quiet|Fierce|Kiiiind of unapproachable[RBF]

The eyes that look down at you, kinda into[*/i] you honestly, as you speak t him don't really speak of any nonesense. A pretty serious dragon he isn't one to goof often, and he uh, smiles more with, his, voice? It has a strange quality, raspy as if illused. Given, he doesn't use it often, since his mate is Deaf. His signs to her are soft and fluid, and as clan habit they speak and sign to eachother. When signing to somedragon that isn't her his movements are concise and to the point, nothing flowery or fanciful about him. Fanciful is NOT a word to describe him at all.



He is, floating? No, he is not in the water, but on it. He sits on the surface of a lake, still, clear but deep black. He is surrounded by trees but none he knows. He looks up and sees unfamiliar stars. A voice, calm and clear, speaks to him; drawing his attention back to waterlevel. A Bogsneak, her mouth moving but her eyes closed, began to speak to him in a language he did not know he knew. "Obsidianskinned, marked with the Runes that hold your curse at bay, hear now the words I have for you. Your life is at stake. There is a child, of the sea hue, whos voice was lost to her first breath, that will be your salvation. Shademarked, whos powers you were gifted, she will be the light that cleanses, the healthy rot that consumes, recycles, the sea that washes away. I gift you with a Geas, and until you fulfill it your paws will never rest, you will be always weary. Find her, rid yourself of this, become unbound." She reached up, putting two claws to her left eye, and dug them into the mottled flesh there. Slowly she drew out a stone, impossibly large for the orbit of its origin, and offered it to him. Its surface was etched with lines, mysterious markings. He took it within his palm, feverwarm from what he guessed was her bodyheat, and looked up to question her but found her missing. And he was sinking. The stone weighed tons, but he knew he had to grip it, couldn't let go. He woke up spluttering in a puddle, gripping the faintly glowing stone.

On Amaram:
From the moment he woke he was moving, even before he was fully awake his feet were on their way to their destination. He didn't know where they were going, but, they were taking him there. He traveled until he fell down from exhaustion, and woke up when he felt his feet beginning to move. It took him days, trekking through streamlets and across swaths of dense jungle. He felt the urge strengthen, felt the compulsion pique and the stone he had braided into his beard began to glow. He pulled it from its trappings and held it out like a dowsing rod, letting it lead his feet the last few yards until he saw her. Covered in hatchlings, wings mantled as if to strike him. Beautiful. The ache in his feet subsided, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was wary, and the clan was as well, until they got to know him. He was accepted on her empathetic pleads, and slowly began to learn how to read her body. He fell in love with her as she instructed him, her bright and flowery sense of humor his favorite part about her. No one could make him laugh quite like she could. Only when he was sure of his feelings did he tell her of the dark meaning behind his hide and the runes scriven upon the crystalline scales. He was sure she would leave him, sure he would be cast out, but when she heard she cried out in anguish. They set to researching how they could cure him, how they could undo the bindings and cleanse the Shade staining him.