Ardest

Few places in the Viridian Labyrinth are truly silent or still, but to an older dragon freshly migrated from the gleaming, bustling metropolis of Goldensparc, the coastline north of the old Plague consulate feels almost like living in a painting at times. Other times, it feels as though his many ventures into the wilds of Sornieth have been mere dips into the world-- though he's living up to the promise that earned him his invitation to the clan by far outperforming the strongest of Clan Qaftsiel's fighters, they're so keenly attuned to the sounds, scents, and visual clues around them that he often feels strangely naked and unhelpful in the field. No matter how often Burl or Iruera seek him out for advice on training, strategy, or spellwork, the doubts hover. What good is simple brute force from a hoary old drake to fresh young dragons who can track from the faintest scent or scrape in the dirt, or hear the softest footfalls, or predict the weather with just a glance at the sky and a taste of the winds?

Ardest has attempted to withdraw in the hopes that none of his new clanmates will pick up on just how clueless he is, but the dragons of Clan Qaftsiel are as good at entangling passing dragons as some of the vines growing around the lair proper. He's been waylaid and bundled off to participate in all manner of tasks and projects around the lair and territory, and though it's often his physical strength that he's needed for, his 'friendly recruiters' (cheerful abductors?) happily talk through the reasons why he's pulling up this tree, digging that trench, or carefully arranging welded scrap or dragon-felled trees in various waterways. Without opening a single one of the Clan's books, he's begun to have a real working understanding of what it means to really take care of a natural area, and he's never once been made to feel ashamed for being new to the subject. He'd never thought of himself as terribly clever or good at learning, yet he's begun to catch himself taking note of the trees and plants he sees in the field, or noting the clouds for what they bring rather than just 'oh, clouds', or even recognizing the calls and songs of the birds and animals around the lair.

Ardest still has a great deal of adjusting to do-- he's a city dragon suddenly plonked into the wilderness, after all-- but he's beginning to think that maybe old dragons can learn new tricks.