Claudia

Claudia Bloodplume, outcast of both Coatl and Plague society. Her whole life pining for an existence where she could be happy, she has found a glimmer of that in the Morning Rose Tribe, taking up the role of a cleric and apprenticeship under Haribert Goldenfang.
She's accompanied by her pet hyena Chips, whom she healed during her treks through the wasteland. He's been her shadow ever since.

Selected Virtue: Compassion
Hindering Vice: Crippling Shyness

• The dragon with the cutest voice.

Birthplace:

Born to an aspiring family of war heroes, it only took one look at Claudia for her mother to be instantly off put by her lack of colors, only saved by the vivid turquoise that coexisted about as equally with her pale silver plumage. Regardless, her mother kept a distance, not saying much. Her father, on the other hand, saw potential in her. She was a Bloodplume, after all. Bloodplumes were natural born fighters, dull plumage or not.
He was only disappointed when Claudia grew older and was already falling behind her siblings in terms of strength. Her magic power, too, lacked potency. The only thing she was good for was just barely surviving hits during sparring matches, to which she'd always cry out how much it hurt.
"You're a Bloodplume. Live up to your name."
Growing up, she'd always be the one picked for sparring practice against the other hatchlings. She was weak, an easy target, and they'd always laugh at her for not wanting to fight back, not wanting to hurt them.
"I thought fighting a Bloodplume would be more difficult than that!"
Claudia had no interest in causing wounds, she hated feeling pain, and figured others must feel the same. She hated her home, it was so cruel and barren and full of sickness. She didn't care that it would prune the weak from the clan and leave only the strong and healthy, it was beyond callous. She wanted to ask her mother or siblings if they felt the same, but neither would respond to her for her pale plumage and reputation for weakness. Everyone in the clan was talking about how pathetic Claudia was, and everyone was surprised someone hadn't put this useless lump of feathers and fur down yet. Claudia felt horrible...worthless...and yet...yes, there was one thing she could do.
She began to stop travel dragons for records on biology and medicine.
"What's a Bloodplume doing without a taste for blood?"
In secret, Claudia tended to wounded and sick monsters as practice, knowing her clan would reject her instantly for her only option remaining to make herself useful, and she rather liked healing. She loved making things feel better. She knew she's be branded as a defect, but maybe, just maybe if she proved herself useful enough as a healer, she'd be accepted.
"A Bloodplume doesn't restore life, it takes life!"
Her greatest mistake was thinking she was finally ready to reveal her true passion. Some clanmates had some hatchlings, and one caught a dreadful fever. She couldn't stand sitting by and letting a child die, so she decided to try and heal him. Unfortunately for her, the mother caught her and reported her to the head of the clan for "interfering with proper survival". She was given a stern lecture of how, in the eyes of her clan, healing was the ultimate crime a Plague dragon could commit, how a dragon is meant to fend for themselves the minute they're born, and healing a sick or wounded dragon keeps a liability around, defying the laws of nature in that the unfit were surviving. When she protested that it wasn't fair to let a potential future warrior at the very least die, they hissed at her, saying that those who die were never fit to survive to begin with.
It was with this discovery that Claudia's father disowned her. Tearful, she begged her family to keep her around, to maybe consider her point of view, to help keep the strong alive and train the weak to be strong, but to no avail.
"A Bloodplume spreads the contagion, they do not combat it."
Claudia was banished from the clan, a mark of shame on her family and a wound in her heart, Coatls longing for their birthplace at all times. She could never understand why her clan hated healing and compassion so much...nor would they understand why she loved it.
For weeks under the scorching sun of the Scarred Wasteland, she tried to fly or crawl through the pulsating, smoggy terrain. Even as one who lived near the Wyrmwound, she never realized until now how terrifying The Scarred Wasteland was. She could at least see why some would rather not have the weak around, but all the more she thought
"In a place like this, why not support each other all the more?"
The more she flew, the more destruction she saw thanks to the contagion. She never felt so repulsed in her life to see all the rot and death. She may have been able to resist the plague within her, but that didn't mean that she would embrace it.
"Bloodplumes get their names from having their enemies' blood stain their feathers, you know, you worthless pale bundle."
Through the murky forests that bordered the Scarred Wasteland, she was approached by several figures that were more suspicious than she thought. She silently thanked all that was good that she was so shy that she would politely decline any questions a stranger would throw at her and fly away, given how, in hindsight, it was too obviously a scam. She was quite scared of the pitch black shade of the forest, wondering if this was the Shade of legend, and only a few bioluminescent plants would light the way, but even then she didn't know what to trust.
"Hello gorgeous, would you mind spending some time with a fellow outcast?" said one white Coatl with purple eyes, but something in those eyes wasn't quite right. Neither was his speech- it was slurred and staccato-filled. Quickly, Claudia scurried along (admittedly red-faced).
"You aren't worthy of being called a Bloodplume!"
In a bright ruin, she lowered her head to a regally dressed Tundra, golden eyed and donning vivid roses, of which she'd never seen in either the Scarred Wasteland or Tangled Wood.
"You look weary."
"Oh yes, I am..." Claudia cried.
"Would you like a rest?"
"You wouldn't mind?"
"All are welcome here." Said the Tundra with a smile.
Claudia immediately fell asleep in the warm sun. Unlike the Scarred Wasteland, it wasn't unbearably hot, it was the perfect temperature. It was so welcoming and comfortable.
It felt like a real home.
"All are welcome here."
At length she talked with some of her fellow Coatls, one in gilded armor speaking very fondly of his brotherhood, a group of dragons with a spiritual mission, of using the light in their hearts, even if it wasn't born within them, to make others safe and happy.
"All are welcome here."
A purple tundra spoke the same, how her meditations and prayers healed her indecisive soul so thoroughly.
"All are welcome here."
A flaxen Imperial more beautiful than anything Claudia had ever seen also elaborated on how happy he was to devote himself to the Light, to soothe the souls of the broken and help those in need.
"All are welcome here."
A star-winged Ridgeback elaborated on how thankful she was for this clan taking her in when her wings were broken and she had to be left behind, and how she was introduced to a world that made her feel wanted and loved.
"All are welcome here."
A shining Undertide was endlessly thrilled to have found an answer in his time of great distress, to have found the light while being in the silent abyss for so long.
"All are welcome here."
An older Snapper felt so good to come back to his roots and truly start over after a lifetime of mistakes, now healing others, and in turn healing himself.
He even noticed the Coatl had a penchant for healing, and asked if she would like to apprentice under him. It wouldn't be any trouble, he reassured her after she asked. He needed a scribe, anyway, considering writing with just your mouth is rather troublesome.
"All are welcome here."
Claudia was enthralled by the culture of the Light flight. So studious and so focused on honesty and virtue. Everyone in this clan wanted to make others happy, and this group, the clergy, had devoted themselves to the happiness of others.
She was more than honored to be asked to join, taking up the offer in a heartbeat.
Happily she heals the sick and wounded, something she wouldn't be allowed to do in her old home.
This place was more a home than her old one, even.
Haribert was more of a father than the Bloodplume warrior trying to force her to abandon her compassion.
Her fellow clerics were more siblings to her than her hatchmates.
This warmth...was welcoming.
"I am welcome here."

(art by yours truly)