Nephelle
(#54103657)
Nothing but grief lingers here.
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Female Pearlcatcher
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.71 m
Wingspan
5.96 m
Weight
498.83 kg
Genetics
Spruce
Pinstripe
Pinstripe
Peacock
Trail
Trail
Thicket
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
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Nephelle It's OK, You're OK by Bonjr
Nothing but grief lingers here. Nephelle is a true Seer, through-and-through: Melancholy, mysterious, vague at the best of times, albeit unintentionally. She holds no love for her clan, with exception of her mate, Alruccabah, and believes it will end in nothing but ruin. She is regarded as enigmatic by the majority of her clanmates, as she typically hides out in the library or her temple ruins. The bones on her head and back are those of an ancient Seer, and help her harness her Sight. Nephelle Sees visions in her pearl, as it is an extension of her soul. She often lights fragrances made by Alruccabah in an attempt to drown out the outside world, and holds life itself in little regard. Look at the temple's broken pillars, the statues' pleading gazes, the scrolls scattered about the floor. The scent of strong incense follows you, drowning out all thoughts, and you are in a complete state of meditation. You glance at the pearl; it acts as if it is calling you, waiting to be picked up and touched. The omens of stars and corvids hold not a great future for your clan. "The Downfall of us is soon to come," you say. Hear it once, say it twice, never listen. Lore by vintaegucci O wanderer, fleeing, what did you see? The things left behind, made of weapons and teeth? Your eyes fixed ahead, you never looked back - And from your bones, hollow, drip things that you lack. The caves ahead beckon. They whisper of gold. They contain treasures and things left untold. They cling to your feet, sink claws to your scales. Close your eyes now. Heed not their wails. What did you give on that unhallowed day? Tell us now why you will no longer pray. This place is unholy. You’ve known it from birth. With your claws you rose and destroyed this hearth. You speak tongues of ruin. Your breath stinks of sin. You’ve held your eyes wide to the things deep within. O prophet, what hope did you have in that dark? Did you think vanity would not leave a mark? Loathed and alone, laugh in the caves. Your sanity’s yours. It shall stay that way. The price you will pay will be from your veins sundered. So hold quiet now. Hold on to each other. Bear now the bones, bare now your throat. With open palms offer what you fear the most. Poem by SilverSilver The temple is ancient and weathered, weeds growing between the cracks like fungus on a log. The dark brown stone stands out against the lighter hues of the ruins, yet at the same time blends with the ever-approaching darkness. What brought you here, but the chance to explore something so haunting and foreboding? You were not expecting for there to actually be life within its bleak and broken heart. But, you suppose, that’s the circle of it all. With death brings life. The scent of flowers wafts on gentle wings from the depths of the temple. You pause by the entrance. You weren’t planning on going in – after all, what little of this place is occupied is generally not the most pleasant company, apart from the strange and mysterious librarian – but something draws you to this place. Maybe it’s the fragrance. Maybe it’s the light shining like a beacon through the doorway. Maybe it’s something else, an ancient thing few have encountered. Whatever it is, you decide to heed its call. You pad on gentle paws, claws clacking softly against the earth and stone. You hesitate for only a moment at the entrance before ducking inside. The gentle fragrance of flowers – obviously dried and exotic; you cannot even begin to imagine what flowers grow here, in this dead City – is coming from a large candle, the source of the light. Behind the altar sits a pearlcatcher, her back to you. She is green and teal, all wispy cloth and bone-covered scales. At your footsteps she turns around, and you glimpse a skull covering her head, sitting perfectly like it was made for her. You suppress a shiver. She doesn’t blink once at your arrival, merely beckons forward with a gentle claw. “I was expecting you.” You frown. How did she know you were here? She wasn’t present when you were greeted at the City’s entrance by a nocturne with blood on his claws and death in his eyes, nor when you were given permission to linger by the leader with the omen of death on her right shoulder. She must notice your confusion, for she continues. “My name is Nephelle, the Seer of this clan of the ruins. Come, traveler. Step closer.” You take a step forward, and then another, and another, until you are directly in front of the altar. Here the scent of flowers is stronger, almost cloying. “You are here because you felt compelled to come,” she states. “The melancholy of this place has drawn you in, as it has drawn in many others, my own mate among them. “But be careful, for you may not like what you find. ‘Memento Mori’ is the maxim of the clan." Her gaze sharpens. "But their folly will be their downfall, and your yearning for the unknown may just be yours.” She sits back on her haunches and picks up her pearl. Her yellow eyes shine from behind her mask of bone. “Come,” she repeats. “Tell me: What do you wish to know?” |
Familiar
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At best, Nephelle’s Sight was wildly unpredictable, even with the bones of an ancient Seer upon her back.
It was frustrating to the Seer, considering her occupation required her Sight to function at least minimally. Even presently, it currently decided to display nothing but clouds on the surface of her pearl—how unexciting. Just as the Seer was about to tuck the silver ball away, something shifted on the pearl's surface, the grey-white fog swirling ominously. Slowly, another pearlcatcher formed out of the mist, hide an entrancing shade of brown and decorated with fine orange and red cloth. Their horn was shorter and slightly misshapen as if it had been manually resized by imperfect paws.
The pearlcatcher in the vision was walking through fog with slow, deliberate steps, their pearl resting on their hip in a cloth bag. No scene around them emerged, but Nephelle could almost make out something at the edges, reaching out toward them. Frowning, she leaned closer to her pearl, eyes widening as other figures began to take shape from the fog, tendril-like limbs flailing toward the brown pearlcatcher. Dragons of all sizes, each a misty white color, as if they weren’t quite corporeal; some surging toward the mysterious pearlcatcher, some fleeing desperately. Each of the misty dragons was disfigured—fractured legs, broken wings, necks at the completely wrong angles, torn hides, limbs clearly ripped off. Horrifying monstrosities.
Suddenly, the brown pearlcatcher paused in their steps, head cocked in earnest attention to some unheard sound. They stood perfectly still for a moment, then twisted around to gaze at the misty figures with piercing green eyes. The dragons froze, caught in their gaze as the pearlcatcher opened their mouth to speak.
All at once, the vision exploded in a flurry of color. Nephelle jerked back as her sight was invaded by an endless mix of chaotic colors and nonsense images. They burned into her eyes, blinding her with flashes of violent battles and dragons curled close to each other in rapid succession. She reared up, blinking rapidly to clear her vision of the nonsense. When she finally looked back at the pearl, it was only the brown pearlcatcher again, walking with calm deliberate steps while Nephelle’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. With shaking paws, the Seer set her pearl down and breathed deeply; never had her Sight followed her so vividly from the surface of her pearl.
Naturally, life was out to spite Nephelle, for as soon as she had a modicum of composure returned there was the distinctive call for a clan meeting. She couldn’t help the groan of frustration that escaped; Nephelle held a deep hatred for the forced socialization that came with clan meetings. Still, she rose and exited her lair, pasting a mask of indifference on as she wove between her clanmates. Some offered muttered greetings as she passed, though she disregarded them completely as she hurried to the circular meeting room in the center of their clan.
Only when she was settled in her sheltered alcove with an unobstructed view of her leader’s perch did Nephelle look at the guest beside Cassata, and her heart froze. Standing there with a level of trepidation and uncomfortableness was the pearlcatcher, hide an entrancing shade of brown and horn shorter than normal, slightly misshapen. She knew it was not impossible for her vision to become true so soon, but the events were not easily shaken from her mind. Hollow-gazed ghosts seemed to lurk in the shadows now, reaching towards the stranger with tendril-like limbs.
Nephelle listened to Cassata introduce the pearlcatcher as Alruccabah in stunned silence, following her clanmates lead in muted applause as Alruccabah accepted refuge as the Mori Clan’s librarian. Fortunately, Cassata skipped the formalities and ended the meeting early, allowing Nephelle to half stumble, half run from the room before anyone could move. Vision or not, she had no intention of greeting Alruccabah personally.
Of course, things never went to plan when it came to Nephelle. Over the next three months, Nephelle and Alruccabah managed to see each other an absurd amount of times, though neither actively sought the other out. The first was when Nephelle had completed a written record of her vision and went to store it in the library, which of course forced her to at least acknowledge the librarian. Alruccabah at least had the decency to keep their talking to a minimum, allowing Nephelle to skitter away with ease. From then on, she swore off the library, hating the way her stomach churned every time she saw Alruccabah.
The next few times were much briefer, mostly a quick exchange of what would be pleasantries in passing, or a moment together while they gathered their meals. It was infuriating, for every time Nephelle saw Alruccabah, she couldn’t help but recall the disturbing and unexplained vision. Even worse, Alruccabah seemed to be growing entranced with her, as though they were friends. It got to the point where Nephelle was actively avoiding leaving her lair for more than a few minutes a day.
When they met once again for longer than a few heartbeats, it was in no special location—just a soft-dirt path leading towards the edge of the clan. The other mysterious pearlcatcher of the clan that was standing in the middle of her path, their chocolate brown hide catching the sunlight just enough to reveal shades of red and orange in their scales. Nephelle forced her eyes away from the sight and continued walking without pause, hoping to merely ignore the problem and it would go away. No such luck.
“Nephelle, may we speak?” Alruccabah wasn’t as reclusive as Nephelle, but they had never actively searched for a conversation as they did now.
“Do you require something from me?” Nephelle huffed, childishly answering their question with one of her own.
“A conversation.”
“Then speak, I am afraid I have sparse free-time today,” Nephelle responded aloud, keeping her mask of neutrality in place.
“I am aware that we are by no means close,” Alruccabah began, motioning for Nephelle to walk beside them as they turned down the path, “But you have sparked quite a few questions in my mind. All I ask of you is this: why have you, a notoriously anti-social Seer, chosen to live among the Mori Clan?”
Nephelle jerked to a stop, gazing—glaring—at Alruccabah with more malice than she needed to show; the other pearlcatcher stopped as well, turning to look at her with a stoic expression. There were a million reasons why she shouldn’t answer that, and a million more why she couldn’t answer that, but they were lost on her tongue. Instead, she opted for the next best way to avoid conversation—redirection.
“I could ask you the same; I see no reason why a librarian would want to live among those who are arguably obsessed with the dead.”
The two stared at each other for a moment, neither willing to cave and back down from the challenge they issued each other, nor answer the question. Finally, Alruccabah sighed and relaxed their posture, turning to walk a few steps into the shade before gesturing for Nephelle to join them. After a moment of hesitation, the Seer did, settling herself a polite distance away.
“It was not my initial intention to reside here,” Alruccabah began, their voice softer than before, “Originally, I was to be nomadic, but one cannot prosper on their own in this land anymore. Thus, I am here, a librarian living among, as you put it, death-obsessed dragons. I am not so different from them.”
Nephelle let a beat of silence hang between them before she spoke, “Elaborate, the Mori Clan’s ideals are quite strange and I struggle to perceive how you would share them.”
“Ah, a straightforward question at last,” Alruccabah gave her what could be a smile, to which Nephelle frowned, “I see ghosts, though not in the sense others may think. I glimpse them as they were in life, how they lived rather than how they died; it can be quite pleasing at times, to see the gentler side of the dead. Still, those dragons prone to violence can be… terrifying. I find myself thankful they avoid me; I wouldn’t necessarily want to see them all the time should I have to witness their violence—”
Somewhere in Alruccabah’s long-winded explanation, Nephelle stopped listening and simply stared at them. Things were starting to fall into place in her head, the mysterious vision that had haunted the edges of her mind for months now finally getting a semblance of an explanation. Had those been ghosts she had seen? Alruccabah’s ghosts? Possibly.
“You never answered my question,” Alruccabah said, breaking Nephelle out of her stupor, “Why are you here?”
“Why not?” It was the simplest answer and a genuine one at that. Life was a mess; she had no more reason to be here than she had to be in the Shifting Expanse, toiling in labs. “The Mori Clan is moderately tolerable, no worse than any other clan, so I find no reason to leave so long as I can continue to stick to the edges of it.”
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Alruccabah’s tone was perfectly neutral and not accusatory, but Nephelle still tensed, “Or do you simply not like me?”
“I avoid everyone. You are not special in that.”
“You disregard everyone. You actively avoid me. I ask again, why?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?”
Nephelle tisked, glaring at Alruccabah though they merely stared impassively back at her. She was growing less and less fond of them the longer they spoke, particularly with the prying questions. All the same, should it get them off her case, she would give them what they want.
“Perhaps… my avoidance is not based on your actions,” Nephelle began, trying to ignore the odd nerves bundled in her chest—there was no reason to befriend them, why was she nervous? “Just before you arrived at Mori Clan, I had a vision. My Sight is not always correct, accurate, or even logical—more often than not, I am left substantially more confused than when the vision began. It makes it all the more startling when I see you in my vision, and then mere minutes later see you in my home. Add to it that the vision itself was of a… disturbing nature and I find it quite understandable that I avoid you.”
Alruccabah nodded slowly as Nephelle finished her brief speech, politely ignoring how the other pearlcatcher was picking at the grass beneath her paws. Then, giving Nephelle a moment to gather her wits, they asked yet another invasive question Nephelle would rather not have answered.
“And what you saw, can you describe it?”
Knowing it would be quicker to just give in and leave already, Nephelle sighed and began her story again. She explained the vision, and how the mist gave was to Alruccabah first, then the monstrous dragons. How, when Alruccabah spoke to them, things went terribly wrong. How horrifying it had been for her Sight to follow her beyond the pearl. She knew somewhere along the way her voice began to crack, though Alruccabah gave no outward sign they perceived it. By the time she finished, Alruccabah seemed more relaxed, content even. The other pearlcatcher nodded once, bid her polite goodbyes, then stood and left. Nephelle breathed a singular sigh of relief at the aloneness at last, feeling the tension bleed out from her.
She was alone at last.
Things were different that night as Nephelle returned to her lair. Something between the two reclusive pearlcatchers’ had changed, almost tangibly. Nephelle couldn’t name it, but nor did she have it in her to try and dissolve whatever almost friendship was blooming between them. Instead, she did what she always did when confusion was the dominant emotion she felt: she turned to her Sight.
Now, as she stared at the blank pearl before her and let her Sight take over, she felt almost a sense of peace. It was quiet, safe, solitary. It was what she needed. Slowly, shapes began to form on the pearl: an outline of a dragon, a crumbling pillar, a second dragon, a stack of books. The room itself formed last, setting the entire scene into life and nearly shocking Nephelle to the core. This was not some vague vision like those she saw frequently. It was concrete, clear, and detailed. There was no misinterpreting it.
There were two pearlcatchers visible on her pearl, one a shade of entrancing brown and the other a deep teal. They both had their pearls tucked away, just barely visible but ever-present. They lay curled together, a tangle of relaxed limbs in the center of a shadowed hollow, a stack of books next to the brown one. Nephelle would have thought it was a lie had she not seen the crumbling pale pillar at the edge of the scene, a telltale sign of her homeland. In fact, she knew that particular pillar—it was far out from the clan in a secluded place, somewhere she frequently went to just be for a while. She knew all of this, but for the life of her, she couldn’t comprehend it.
It was them. Nephelle and Alruccabah. Together. Fascinating.
Suddenly, it all clicked into place—the vision, the seemingly impossible number of times the two crossed paths, the growing infatuation with her Alruccabah displayed. Was it Fate? Nephelle couldn’t be sure, but it was something. She would take something, try something.
She went to bed with visions of blue and brown together, a ghost warmth beside her.
Written by Redtiger7736 192055
Art
Art and design by jimidoodles 440705
Art and design by jimidoodles 440705
Art by hiolani 389630
Garden by FoxyCipher 282084
Art and design by jimidoodles 440705
Art and design by jimidoodles 440705
Art by hiolani 389630
Garden by FoxyCipher 282084
Themesong: It's OK, You're OK by Bonjr
Found by Zygella 472984
Found by Zygella 472984
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