Florian

Florian lost most of his left wing in an accident when he was barely more than a hatchling. Such a pity it was, especially for one who'd loved flight as much as Florian had. He'd been the best flier out of his flock's group of hatchlings, and the one most in love with the sky. Like most skydancers, Florian was a sensitive boy. He might've eventually gotten over the loss, if not for the waves of sympathy and pity coming off every skydancer in the clan. What was left for a skydancer who couldn't fly? What kind of sad life would he have without the sheer joy of wind beneath his wings?

They could feel the loss and grief and sadness radiating off him, and a swell of pity answered. The emotional feedback loop pushed him down further into depression, and soon, Florian found himself running out of reasons to live. He was so hyperfocused on what he'd lost, and the feelings of others around him kept his gaze squarely there. Florian found himself standing on the edge of Carrion Canyon, staring down into the abyss that mirrored the one in his heart.

Suddenly, a presence. Florian didn't recognize it at first. It had a cynical bent, but the ever present pity didn't show itself. Concern, yes, in spades. But no pity. One of the clan's mirrors stood behind him, quietly watching the young skydancer. "You're light. You're lean. Bet with time and practice, you could outrun me."

Florian turned around, blinking owlishly. Of course Bleak wouldn't understand. To a mirror, losing a wing wasn't a huge deal. They were born sprinters. "I'm built to fly, not sprint. I'm not like you."

Bleak snorted. "Course not. You're lighter and leaner. Betcha jump better'n we do. Betcha can be faster." He smacked Florian on the back, hard. "C'mon, kid. You wanna fly once, or you wanna see what you've been missing? Tell ya' a secret. Lotsa mirrors can't fly. The big warrior types, you know the ones, real strong, real respected. Get too heavy and can't fly."

In that moment, Florian made his decision. He stepped back away from the ledge. "Alright. You're on. I don't believe you, but it's better than feeling worthless all the time."

From that moment on, Florian didn't spend much time in the lair. Skydancers were intensely social, but Florian found solitude preferable to the crushing weight of wallowing in loss and pity. Florian learned to find joy in pushing himself, competing against himself to see how far and how fast he could run without getting tired. His massive lung capacity and lean build served him very very well. Bleak had been right; soon Florian could outpace the mirror pack. He took to running with them, using his empathy and magical sense to help them flush game. It gave him some of his much-needed social interaction back.

After a while, though, it wasn't enough. Florian trained even harder, and soon built his strength enough to outpace most wildclaws. His physique became noticeably stronger, muscle rippling under his feathers; he was surprised at how many lovely potential mates suddenly wanted to court him. He soon noticed a deeper connection to his element. His feet constantly touched the ground, which fed the wellspring of Earth magic inside him in the way it wouldn't have for a lot of his peers. Other skydancers took notice of him, feeling the magic starting to well up.

Florian projected an aura of confidence and self-assured cockiness that a one-winged rooster ordinarily just would not have. Sure, he couldn't fly, but in some ways that made him a more effective scout. What dragon, knowing they're up against a Skydancer, looks down? What beastclan, knowing they're facing dragons, expects an assault from behind rather than above? Sure, he couldn't give a future partner a mating flight, but he had stronger legs and more grace on the ground than any of them. His Earth magic grew stronger by the day, stronger than most flighted dragons he'd ever met, just by virtue of the fact that he was groundbound.

He ran further and further through the Shifting Expanse, often gone for weeks at a time, usually gone before clans even noticed he was in their territory. One clan, however, did take notice. Florian skidded to a stop in Clan AXQU territory, suddenly surrounded by the clan's rather sizable mirror pack. He flattened the feathers on his head and slowly waved his tail back and forth, praying to Earthshaker that his imitation of a mirror submissive gesture would translate.

"Oi! This'un's a'ight! You been in a pack b'fore, mate?" a dark-colored female asked him. She was covered head to toe in Plague regalia-- probably a priestess, if Florian were to guess.

"That's enough, Aale," barked a grey-faced female, whose magical aura threatened to bowl Florian over. An Archmage. "He's got a lot of magic. Keep on your guard. Make sure he doesn't fly away. Could be a spy. Make sure he doesn't leave."

"Mom. Stop. Look at him from this side. He's not flying anywhere." A sharp-faced male flashed Florian a toothy, apologetic grin. "What's your name, stranger? I'm Ajax, clan-head of Clan AXQU, with my lovely mate Ashes." Ashes helpfully inclined her head when Ajax pointed her out. "Who are you and what're you doing on our turf?"

"Florian. Running," Florian ventured helpfully. As a sign of good faith, he extended his wing stump so the Archmage could see it from her angle. "Currently trying not to get eaten by a pack of mirrors." A small chuckle went around the group at that. "Not spying, although a spy would say that. Really I'm running from responsibility. Last clan I stayed with wanted to stick me behind a desk filing papers. I'd rather take a serthis arrow through my eye." It was mostly true.

"Huh," Ashes chimed in. "Well, are you looking for a job? I saw you almost faint when you got too close to my mother-in-law. That tells me you got magic-sense."

Florian laughed. "Yeah, and I can sense lies too. I'm a good scout, despite the wing. Nervous about meeting a flock, but I'll do it if you need me to."

Ashes nodded. "Yes, we do. We'll also keep you under observation until any herbs are out of your system. Barth, Paschal, you two hang back. Make sure he keeps up and doesn't try to pull anything. Seaiqa, you scout ahead and let Levi know we've got one that needs a comfy bunk on ground level." She turned around, and the pack turned with her; Seaiqa ran out ahead, and Bartholomew and Paschal positioned themselves behind Florian.

"Just procedure. Not personal," grunted Bartholomew. And they were off.

Florian settled in just fine. He found he even wanted to participate in Clan AXQU's skydancer flock; nobody pitied him. They were impressed at how well he'd been able to work around his disability. After a few weeks' trial period, Florian settled into clan life, and became one of their most valuable scouts.

He was offered a prosthetic, and turned it down.