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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Female Spiral
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style


Spring's Breath
Marigold Flower Crown
Sepia Rose Thorn Crown
Orange Tabby
Chattering Parrot
Teardrop Citrine Wing Loop
Meadow Towel
Scout's Tail Twist


Accent: SS-Hidden Tasty


Scene: Shoreline Serenity


3.15 m
1.95 m
90.15 kg


Primary Gene
Secondary Gene
Tertiary Gene


Dec 25, 2019
(4 years)



Eye Type

Special Eye Type
Level 25 Spiral
Max Level



  • none


  • none


{ AZ-uh-lawn }
Illustrious High Kazirin


In life we do find peace, and we cannot call it fleeting for it is our only glory.

╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ l o r e ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
blankblank Some find it hard to look at Azalon and think of the time where they were nothing more than a wounded spirit full of hate. These days, they are bubbly and lively, a living coil of colour and delight. How could someone as bright as them feel hate? Feel the sting of betrayal? Who would break the trust of such a dragon?

His name was Avarice.

Or, at least, that was his stage name. They were performers. Avarice and Chivalry, comedians extraordinaire. That is, during the night. When daylight broke, they were only Avalon and Markov. Simple, ordinary, and very, very unextraordinary.

One of their acts was a bit more daring than the usual. While it wasn't unusual for them to do the odd dance or song in the middle, this one was a touch more active. In involved rope, a pulley, and a lot of trust between the two partners.

"Don't worry," he insisted. "I'll catch you."

And when Azalon leapt into the air, a song on their tongue, they didn't even look down. Their eyes were glued onto the audience, savoring their reaction at such a daring stunt as they fell and fell. That is, until the expectant looks turned to terror.

Azalon chanced a glance down...and the stage was empty. "Avarice...?" They just had the time to wonder before they struck the ground.

They woke up only a day later, their head rushing with a headache and their vision blurry. When at last things grew clear, they found they were in their bed bed. Flowers surrounded them, bright and inviting, but Azalon's gaze slid past them. They would not relish in the faux comfort they offered.

Days passed and they eventually healed. But when the time came for them to go back to being Chivalry, Azalon found they couldn't do it. They didn't want to. It held no joy for them, not anymore. They tucked away in their rooms, ignoring all who came to their den. Until, at last, a familiar face snuck it's way in.

"Avarice!" they snarled, voice loud enough to bring back an all too familiar headache.

"Chivalry, I-" he tried, claws stretching out for them.

"No," Azalon hissed, "stay away from me. It shouldn't be hard for you."

His face turned cold. "You were the one who didn't bother to show up to do your job, Chivalry! Hiding away like some hermit. We have a contract!"

"I did my job!" Azalon snarled back. "I did it to the very letter. And when I thought I'd be plucked from the air by your arms?" They laughed, humorless. "You. Weren't. There." The words were venom on their tongue, acid in their heart. Azalon was flame and fire. And they hated it. This was not Chivalry. They were not Chivalry.

Avarice seemed to notice this, too. "Yes, fine," he sniffed. "But can you blame me? Is that not a part of who I am?" He waved a claw down at his form and did a mock bow. "Avarice, the dragon of greed. I'm not chivalrous like you." The way he said it, it sounded like a curse.

"Get out."

And he did.

Unable to stay with the troupe of performers, Azalon cast off Chivalry and took to travelling. They didn't need Avarice or anyone. They'd find a middle ground between chivalry and greed where Avarice never could.

Meeting Rei had been a chance encounter, surprisingly. The dragon that would inevitably become their closest friend had been enjoying the same performance that Azalon had come to watch. The show left them feeling numb, but they'd brushed it off. Rei, however, lit up brightly with each joke and pun. They were so bright, like a flower. Azalon found themself drawn to this green and pink Guardian.

They were almost disappointed to find Rei had a mate, a pink Coatl with swooping feathers and eyes as green as sweet-grass. Disappointed, but not put off.

"Enjoying the show?" they'd asked, making light talk for the first time in, well, a very long time. It was unusual for them, but they forged through the foreign ground.

Rei beamed down at them, all sharp canines and Arcane eyes. "Absolutely! Are you familiar with them?" They gave a nod to the stage.

Azalon shook their head, sitting down into a tight coil like a snake. "Not this particular troupe, no. They're doing well, though." They watched the stage for a moment before turning to look back at Rei, who watched Azalon with curiosity.

"Are you a performer?" they asked, as if capable of reading Azalon's past like it was written down for them.

Despite themself, Azalon flushed. No sense lying about it now, then. "I used to be," they replied, waving off the question as if it were unimportant. "Not anymore."

"What do you do, then?" Rei's mate, Rose, chirped in.

Azalon shrugged. "Not much." At least it was an honest answer.

"Looking for work?" Rose asked, head tilted. They scrutinized Azalon like a palm reader with a querent and Azalon shifted under the sharp gaze.

"Maybe," they replied warily. "Why? Are you offering?"

"Maybe." Rose's mouth split in a teasing smile.

Despite themself again, Azalon smiled back. "Then yes, I am. Although I'm picky about the jobs I take. Nothing involving..." They trailed off, gaze darting to the stage.

Rei actually laughed, a deep barking sound. "You needn't worry about that. What we do doesn't focus too much on the arts. Would you like to meet some of our clanmates?"

Yes, Azalon had said. I would like to. And they met the dragons of Rekhanci, a gathering of different and unique dragons. Each welcomed Azalon warmly, but it wasn't until they had met Mira that Azalon was offered a job.

"It doesn't have to be permanent," Mira said, voice as nurturing as a mother. "And you can leave whenever you want." Just like that?

And so Azalon joined them, if only as a temporary member. Given their background, Azalon was adept at being quiet and hidden. But they also had an innate talent for making dragons laugh, a habit they hadn't been able to kick. Their humorous side had grown dormant in the months since Chivalry, but it came roaring back to the surface. And soon Azalon had friends—friends!—who expected nothing from them. Azalon worked for them, sure, but they could leave if they wanted. No one would fault them for it. And eventually, they found, they didn't want to leave.

So they didn't.
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blankblank "Dandelion Wine" by Gregory Alan Isakov
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