Maeva » Hibernal Den » Amyr

Amyr

(#56642607)

Level 1 Wildclaw

Familiar

Death Seeker

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.25 m

Wingspan

5.74 m

Weight

598.89 kg

Genetics

Antique
Skink

Antique
Alloy

White
Opal

Hatchday

Nov 08, 2019
(4 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Wind
Common

Level 1 Wildclaw

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

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T H E M E
A m y r
it's a thankless job, but somebody's got to do it

She tried so hard to love him, to take care of him. For years she forced herself, and never once looked at him. Simple nourishing food, plain sturdy clothes, not a single touch. Under the gaze of others she had no choice, she wasn't cruel and wasn't evil. She wanted a child, she just never wanted him.
Father was nowhere to be found, and every question Amyr asked made his mother only colder. So he tried asking others, have they seen his daddy? Who is he? Will he come back? But the adults remained silent, husbands and wives, hand in hand. Every single one of them, a ring on their finger or a necklace on their chest. His mother was the only unclaimed, unloved, unneeded. It meant she wasn't full, just one half of a person. Cold, rigid, even her small house was meant for one, burned and rebuilt on the forest's border. She often traveled into the heart of it, days on end, a herbalist, - a witch, they called her. Alone, unwanted, they called her. How could a lonely person be happy, when happiness is born from two loving hearts, not from stubborness and pride? Witch, she must be.

Amyr didn't look like anyone from the village. His skin a different shade, his eyes too dark of a colour. Where they could see an image mirrored in each other, in him they knew the stranger. But his mother looked just like them - delicate features, wide shoulders, shapes round and full... Amyr wondered, are they all the same on the inside, too?

It wasn't him, it was a dog. Amyr found the bird on the road that morning, cold and silent, feathers bloodied. It wasn't him, he didn't hurt the rooster, he only wanted to see how it worked when it was alive! Why are they so angry, mother? But she didn't say a word, not to him, not to them, when they screamed and lied. She looked at him, red hands gripping a coiled neck of an animal. Horror in her grey eyes, she finally looked at him, but she saw someone else instead. When she run to the house, she ran alone. And he run the other way.
Maybe, if he cleans up, washes away the blood from his shirt, mother won't be disappointed. He will bring the flowers, like other kids do for their mothers. How could she be so blind? She is not alone, because she has him. They are two hearts, aren't they?

Sun is setting, when Amyr is finally finished. The biggest and the brightest bouquet, flowers from the forest and the meadow, he saw them in mother's books. She will surely look at him again, and she will listen. Maybe, she's making the apple pie today... But why the windows are so dark, like there's no fire inside?
She floats. Cold and silent, like a dead rooster. Creak, creak.
The witch was cursed, they said. They buried the body outside of the village, under the charred dry earth. And he was left alone. Unneeded, unloved.
It''s okay. He was used to it.

Men crippled, women scarred, graves by the meadow, houses rebuilt from ashes. Getting older, he understood it finally. The nights of that summer are still fresh in memories of people, and Amyr... Amyr looked like the enemy.
The villagers were kind enough to bring him food every evening, and clothes sometimes, until he figured out the traps and the trades. Rabbits and birds he studied, frogs and lizards and whatever carrion he would find in the forest. Mother left behind many empty journals that she never got to fill in, and now these blank pager are ready for Amyr's own hand. He studied people too, like one would study wild animals. So complicated, they would turn away from him when he walks by - but they'll bang on his door in the middle of the night if their stomach hurt. Mother's trade was fine, it bought respect when love was impossible. A broken bone, an infected wound, sickly fever, or a childbirth hard and painful. Amyr helped, and Amyr studied.
But it wasn't enough, and they caught him over the body long dead, long buried. It wasn't him, he did no harm, he wanted to learn, to help them better! Still they were quick to turn on him, discarding their need and his assistance, they grabbed the torches - and his mother's house burned well in the night, along with the studies, with the journals. They didn't dare to hurt him, makeshift scalpel in hand, eyes too dark of a color, black with hurt. Animals, all of them! Nothing different from beasts under that pale skin of theirs, no soul and no kindness. Hungry beasts with murder on their lips and violence in their veins, they would kill him if they could. It's not a place worth saving, worth helping.
Amyr will easily find another.

Nothing but clothes on his back and a small bag full of tools he crafted, Amyr was welcomed at traveler's camps - a good doctor is always a fine addition to any company. With every job done, be it dead or alive in the end, he knew more. He found out that certain organs could be transformed into medicaments. He traded knowledge with wise men and women from tribes, villages, and towns he visited. He asked for a new set of doctor's equipment from a talented smith, in exchange for the treatment of her son - handed the sketches he created, and they both got to work.
Her boy's sickness wasn't serious, just the cold and the fever, but the deal meant that Amyr had to take care of the lad day and night, and he was looking forward to study some more. The boy was no older than twelve, and liked him, trusted him, because his parents told him to, because Amyr was a doctor. And when the fever broke, the boy asked Amyr to hold him - the child was scared and shaking. This tiny, shivering boy, in need of comfort and warmth and just a little bit of encouragement, he needed Amyr. He needed someone to calm him down. So Amyr did just that, climbed on the child's bed and held him. Humming the tune he learnt from caravans, he lulled the boy back to sleep, and slept on the floor near the child's bed himself.
He stayed in their house for a few days. The rings are not in fashion here, but the smith and her husband both had the matching torcs - two hearts, and a child. Wanted, needed, all of them. Amyr was happy for them, he truly was. But he couldn't help but wonder: what does it take to be needed? What should a person have in order to be loved?
You only need a doctor when you're sick.

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New tools, more possibilities, and the whole world before him.
Amyr decided to join the first caravan that would welcome him, and this one headed east, to the ocean. All the better - he had never seen the ocean before, and grew tired of studying only forest animals. Fish sounds interesting, and the herbs mus-

Amyr tries to remember, but his head is killing him. What is this? How did he end up here? He was with that caravan, they made their camp, and... and then only pain and screams, before the world fell dark. There's something missing...
He blinks a few times, pulls himself together and sits up. The first thing he sees are the metal bars a few meters away from him. On the other side, a table and burning candles, the only source of light. Before he looks around some more, all the other senses are kicking in - it reeks of death and old clothes and blood here. Amyr hears moans of pain around him, muffled cries of a woman, all echoing. He feels cold stone under him, through his clothes, and this wetness on the back of his head and down his neck... he was hit from behind? If he could only remember!
When he turns around and looks, he sees the good half of the caravan here with him: on the floor, in the corners, some crying, some aren't moving. Bloodied, all of them, in pain and scared. Someone... took them all from their camp? An elderly man grabs the sleeve of Amyr's coat, but instead of talking, he just sobs. A big cut on his hip, and a dark pool of blood under, glistening in what little light a few candles could provide. With the new tools Amyr could've fix it in no time, if only... No, but the coat is still on him, it means the tools must be-
In their rightful place. Hidden pockets and a belt kept most of his instruments safe and sound. Still short on the materials, but the coat will do... The elderly man first, nothing fancy, but a suture and bandage. Then a kid with a bone. The dying man he couldn't save. One by one, Amyr slowly helps out when he can, tears clothes and finds some moss and spider's web in their cage. He'll worry about infections later, if they're still alive: now it's blood loss that bothers him the most.
It's better than just sitting here like a lemon.

- Well, I expected more corpses.

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I love your hands. Gentle hands, not for a sword, but for books, and porcelain cups full of your favorite tea. I love your hair. Wild, soft, golden warm chestnut under the sun, the colour always changes into a darker shade after the sunset. I love your eyes. I never knew such vibrant blue before, and now the ocean seems bleak and shallow. I love your voice, so quiet and tender, and I wonder how my name would sound from your lips. Because I love your lips too, rosy and full of life.
You came into the village alone, like a wild cat that steps into a new house. I would like to see you step into mine. Can I tame you?

I love how your face turns red, when you're finally catching on with the flame inside of you. I love when your breath is so heavy, when your heartbeat quickens and your pulse betrays how you truly feel. You like this, but will never say it, because it's not real and not important yet. It's only my study of you, and I will take every lesson you whisper unknowingly. Will you let me read your mind, my love?

Sickness made you weak, made you nauseous. Cold sweat and shivers, you need my warmth. Shy and fragile, your chains and your fear are the weight that brings you down, but I will take away both. Let me take care of you, don't be afraid of a doctor in love.
Shhh, let it all out, let the pain out. It burns you from the inside, like the black essence in your veins. But I will hold you through the worst, I will never leave you. Scream if you want, scream if it makes it easier - and I will purr a tune to help you sleep, when you're out of breath. Rest your head on my chest and listen to the heartbeat. Do you realize how yours I am?

I love how the blue in your eyes lights up when you open a book. I read it before, because you said you like it, so I like it too. We are connected, through these thoughts, these whole wordls between the pages. Isn't it your favorite? Read the poem with me, my love, leave the book to yourself - I know this one by heart. Your smile means everything to me, don't you see? I wanted to kiss it, but it fades away as the poem ends. Can't I be your sun instead, like you are mine?

I love you. I love you so much that my heart aches, but I know the medicine won't help it. There's no herb, no potion to cure me. I'm sorry that I'm in love with you so strongly, obsessively, madly.
And I want to scream, because your eyes are empty. You asked me to end it, but I can't. I am not a cruel man, my love. Desperate, sick, but this is who I am - Caliban's shadow, who knows no better! And I won't share you, my Miranda, and I can't let you go. I know what they wanted to do, what are they doing with every pure flesh on this monstrous island, and I won't let them. I know of their smothering poison, alluring and charming. They will eat you, my love, they will bury their fangs into your ribs and they will eat your heart!
But am I not the one feasting on your soul instead?

The setting sun drowns everything in richer shades, and it suits you. It's almost like you're standing under a stained glass. I wonder, would your lips taste faintly of this purple colour?

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Exalting Amyr to the service of the Lightweaver 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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