Zephyr is biophysicist and pharmacist of the clan. The stress and overwork was terrible but still better than the guilt he felt when he took time for himself instead of working to help patients. Eventually, he cracked under the pressure, resulting in full dissociation from himself and reality.

Everyone had given up on curing him, only for the transfer into a new body to save him from the incurable sickness to finally bring him back. However, the switch to a new form changed him on a fundamental level. The dragon who prioritized others and did his best for everyone was gone, and in his place was someone who was angry at the world that had broken him. Angry that pressure to work caused him to lose his passion for biophysics, angry that Leanan only cared about the work not getting done, angry that no one helped him recover.

The rage follows him around everywhere, now. The only person who banks his fury is Cebren, whose attention he is becoming increasingly possessive over.

In his youth, Zephyr believed he could make a difference. His life goal from childhood was to help other dragons. Zephyr was pretty popular, his generous nature netted him a lot of friends. He’d be a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a pair or helping hands, or whatever a friend needed from him. He trained as a biophysicist specializing in pharmacology so that he could make a difference and help those who were sick. In every area of his life he always did his best. He did his best for his friends,for his boss or, for the good of his flight because he truly believed that his kindness could make a difference. He believed that the late nights, the lack of sleep, and skipped meals were worth it.

He let Leanan put him under so much pressure for the good of the clan that he started fracturing under the pressure. He couldn’t find a way out. He felt guilty for even trying. So he put on a smile and tried to tell himself that this the right way, and that the stress was worth it because he was helping. That’s all that matters. All that matters. It matters. I’m okay. Because helping is all that matters. It matters. I’m okay. It matters. It matters. I matter.

It started a joke. He was just pretending. Leanan made such a funny face when he started peeping at her during a one-on-one meeting. Pretending to think he was a bird was a hilarious trick to get Leanan to leave him alone when the pressure got to be too much. It was a joke until he stopped wanted to take the mask off. It was so relaxing to have people not asking anything of him, he didn’t have to be responsible for their health or their feelings or their problems. He was pretending until he wasn’t and the mask couldn’t come off anymore.

He didn’t remember getting sick. Zephyr was too far gone by that point. He remembered flashes of the horrible mockery he’d made of himself and then he snapped back to awareness in a bed much too large for him. A child again, but darker in both plumage and disposition. He’d been a naive idiot, and the world was full of the used and the users. Zephyr would never be used again. He’d never believed in the old wives tale that drab plumage indicated a moral corruption, but he’d come back with his full faculties, darker plumage, and a seething rage burning in his breast. Perhaps there was more to the superstition than he thought.

Leanan, of course, put him back to work as soon as she realized that he was fully capable again. Apparently, she’d been getting by using his notes. Zephyr considered botching Leanan’s surgeries on purpose, but the patients would be the ones who paid the price. Zephyr knew that would have bothered him before, should have bothered him now, but the though of accidentally/on purpose killing someone simply to inconvenience Leanan wasn't worth because of how little an impact it'd have on her. Sometimes Zephyr would look in the mirror, look at his dark feathers, and try to care about people the way he used to. He felt nothing for the hypothetical people he had wanted to protect, he felt nothing for his ‘friends’. He knew that he once cared for Zenko, but now he was nothing but a bother. The best thing about the other Coatl was watching the way he’d wilt under even his most casual disdain.

Zephyr was not sure what he did to catch the attention of the local diva, but Cebren was very clearly watching him. Zephyr started watching him back, of course. It was hilarious how quickly Cebren would start to get uncomfortable. A side glance here, and an attentive stare there, and suddenly Zephyr was the center of his nervous attention. He couldn’t help but want to push more, becoming more hands on as he moved into teasing. Enjoying the the way to poised wildclaw would turn into a stuttering and blushing self-conscious mess when Zephyr messed with him. It was entirely charming to see how disarmed the poised wildclaw became when pushed.

Messing with Cebren started as a passing bit of fun, then progressed into his favorite game, and then before he realized what was happening Cebren himself started to matter. Being around Cebren made it easier to remember what it was like before the rage. To be able want something more. Cebren had never paid any attention to the old him, but he looked at him now like he’s the only one that mattered. Zephyr never felt overshadowed by his previous self. Never felt like Cebren was looking for hints of someone who didn’t exist. Cebren treated him like a new person, a new person worthy of his fascination. Zephyr liked holding his regard and attention, hoarding it all for himself. He like having someone so utterly captivated by him. He’d stopped being the generous sort when he was reborn. Now Zephyr lived to take, and he thought that if pushed Cebren would be willing to give him everything.

Thank you for coatl scroll, croix!!

Hired: 06-15-2015[/quote]
Patient: 10