Winter
(#60202003)
Level 1 Gaoler
Familiar
Boulder Nymph
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 45/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Earth.
Female Gaoler
This dragon cannot breed until May 12, 2024 (8 days).
This dragon is an ancient breed.
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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
12.18 m
Wingspan
8.61 m
Weight
9677.49 kg
Genetics
Dirt
Pinstripe (Gaoler)
Pinstripe (Gaoler)
Brown
Streak (Gaoler)
Streak (Gaoler)
Rose
Thylacine (Gaoler)
Thylacine (Gaoler)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Gaoler
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
5
DEF
7
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
9
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
Biography
T H E S T O R Y T E L L E R
Wanderer and storyteller, Winter comes from a world beyond Sornieth and a land beyond Waterdeep, though they aren't likely to call any one place their home. They've survived the end of the world, a trip through hellfire, and the recovery back. Waterdeep has enough family and friends though to qualify, as much as anything can, and when they aren't tending to Crestflame Academy or their plethora of niblings, and sometimes while doing the same, they share their stories - of which there are many.
Featured authors:Rosoidela || Noonchi || galaxychilde || ceruleansky || CrimsonSasaki || winterninja || SoftFrogger || PhantasiDreamin || Noonchi
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>> penned by Rosoidela.
The house was quiet when he returned, the hearth crackling merrily and the clock chiming the hour.
It was always abrupt, the shift from the loud exuberant world to the quiet serenity of their home. Here there were no enemies waiting at every turn—political enemies, he amended, because although he was never one to shy away from getting his hands dirty, his personal enemies had been dealt with a long time ago. There was no one waiting to latch onto a misstep or a misspoken word, to throw it back at him across the political stage as if it were ammunition in a cannon.
Home was safety and security. It was where his mate was, where their family was.
“Hey,” Bright greeted, turning around, something gentle and sweet in his eyes as his mate finally walked in through the door. A breath of fresh air Bright hadn’t realized he’d needed until then.
Torrin had been gone for a while this time—eight days, twelve hours… not that Bright was counting—which wasn’t altogether that worrying. Torrin took care of himself, could do whatever he wanted, and working in the shadows meant he couldn’t always be as visibly prominent as Bright.
Torrin paused in the doorway at Bright’s greeting, the slightest bit of hesitation, his expression slipping before smiling his usual, charming smile. It could’ve been a trick of the light, had Bright not known him so well.
“Hey, yourself,” Torrin said breezily, carelessly, much too easily.
Everything Torrin did was with stark deliberation, and the Torrin smiling at him was too loose, too carefree. That, in itself, worried him.
“What’s wrong?” Bright asked.
For a second, he thought that Torrin would lie to him, would look him straight in the face with those guileless—false—eyes and deny everything. But then Torrin sighed, and the moment passed in an exhale.
“Nothing,” Torrin said. Then, “Nothing that should concern you, at least.”
Should instead of could or would. Could would’ve meant it was so trivial that Bright needn’t to bother. Would would’ve meant that Torrin didn’t think that it would ever come to pass. But should? Should meant that things were still up in the air, that Torrin was still in the throes of whatever conflict he’d found himself in and didn’t—couldn’t?—have Bright’s help.
And that, out of everything, told him it was serious.
Secrets, after all, weren’t commonplace between them.
They were best friends before partners before lovers. They shared everything with each other, their lives, their livelihood, but even still, each of them had their own share of dark, dirty secrets. The white lies to spare hurt feelings, the embarrassing moments that they didn’t want to relive even to each other. It was never anything big. After all, lies from omission weren’t actually lies.
Bright trusted Torrin with his life. So he swallowed his knee-jerk reaction to demand answers, to insist that he could help, and asked instead, “Is this another end of the world situation or… ?”
Torrin huffed out a laugh, startled but amused. “No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just… intricate.”
Intricate meant shadow politics. Intricate meant hidden strings and informants in waiting, the puppet master behind the performing marionette.
Intricate meant Bright couldn’t help with his particular skillset. No need for the Blackstaff to save the day, no epic villain or monstrous fight to save the city.
"Alright," he said, because that was all that could be said. "Alright, let me know?"
“When it’s over, of course,” Torrin assured, and there was the gentle smile, the softening of his voice that Bright had missed. “You know I will. Always.”
“I guess it is your turn to save the world,” Bright said, a teasing note in his voice, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.
Torrin’s eyes brightened, a quirk of his lips. “Oh please,” he said, “as if last time would’ve gone remotely well if I hadn’t intervened.”
“I’ll have you know I had everything under control,” Bright said imperiously, and Torrin laughed.
“Is that what you call getting trapped in a haunted mansion?”
“At least I didn’t eat rotten ghost food.”
“That was once!” Torrin exclaimed, and Bright grinned.
“Admit it,” Bright said, “You wouldn’t have gotten this far without me.”
“No, I wouldn’t have.” And Bright swallowed at Torrin’s sudden seriousness, the intense look in his eyes.
“… I missed you,” Bright admitted, something soft and vulnerable. And Torrin leaned in close.
“I missed you too,” Torrin murmured. “I wish I could tell you but—“
“It’s okay. I understand. I trust you.”
Torrin smiled, his arms tightening around him. A loving embrace, a lover’s caress. “I’d give you the world,” Torrin admitted in a quiet voice, “if I could.”
“I know,” said Bright, something warm and happy and right. “And I’d give it to you in turn.”
When Torrin went on his way later, leaving the comforts of their home and back into the cold world, a part of him wanted to stay.
A part of him wanted to tell Bright everything, to face the threat together like they had so many times in the past. An Avariel and a Drow, as different as darkness and light and yet so inexplicably intertwined.
They could do anything together. No limits, nothing that could ever stand in their way.
But they couldn’t do anything against shadow threats. Whispered rumors and the shifting of pieces on the board. An unseen hand making seemingly irrelevant moves.
What was their goal? Who were they?
And no matter how much Torrin wished he had Bright’s support, there was nothing he could do. Bright wasn’t a figure in the dark. Bright couldn’t navigate a rogue’s world of chasing shadows and finding leads.
Later, Torrin promised himself. Later, when they knew what kind of foe they were up against. When they knew more than just snatches and whispers and a worrying prospect. Then he’d bring Bright in. Then they could make their plans, heads bent together over long hours of the night as they had so many times before. Then they could face this threat with each other by their side, like they always had. Together like they’d always stay.
Let me do my part, Torrin willed even as a part of him ached at keeping this to himself. Let me find the mastermind behind the puppets, and then we’ll fight together.
Until then, Torrin was on his own, sending out his informants and navigating a labyrinth of rumors, his mate standing on the political field that threatened to collapse around them.
Just wait.
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>> penned by Noonchi.
The view from Blackstaff Tower truly was something marvelous in Autumn; the warm colors spread across the city were often an oasis to those traveling through the open seas. A hand firmly pins parchment to a wooden desk, then moves an ornate paperweight to keep it in place. The wind also carries the sounds of laughter up into the tower from the market below, the people of Waterdeep are a festive bunch, always leaping at the chance to celebrate. Tonight was a holiday, which was favorite amongst all young and older dragons, and some were already beginning to gather on the streets below the tower. The skydancer seems unbothered, too focused to pry his eyes from the handwriting scrawling across the yellowed page. Only until there’s a gentle knock does he raise his head.
“You’re still working?” The voice is warmly familiar, tinted with disappointment as Bright lets out a sigh. He was supposed to be finished with work for the evening by now, however he had been pouring over a list of new protocols he had hoped to send out by that evening.
“Not entirely,” he huffs while setting down a pair of gold trimmed reading glasses. “I worry the wording on one of these points isn’t clear enough.” A slight frown wears on Bright’s face, but he quickly dismisses it when he looks back to the other dragon in the doorway. He had done enough thinking about punctuation and word choice for the evening.
“Well, I think you’ll have a fresher pair of eyes by tomorrow.” The darker dragon steps into the room, his gaze moving to the candle that was nearing the end of its wax supply on the desk. “Plus, I remember having plans with you tonight. Plans we could have been late for if I didn’t come find you,” Reaching out, Torrin snuffed the candle between his fingers, sending a small plume of smoke into the air. He wasn’t surprised to find his partner still pouring over work, he often admired his workaholic behavior. Though when it threatened to come in the way of their personal time together, he did find it a bit tiresome.
Bright carefully rolled the parchment into a neat scroll, then tucked it into a drawer of the desk. It was true he didn’t know when to stop working, it was so easy to get lost and lose track of time. Looking up to Torrin he couldn't help but smile fondly and apologetically, he truly had found his better half in such a big crazy world. “You’re right, let’s get going shall we?”
It was Hallow’s Eve in Waterdeep, and The Markets were decorated for the occasion. Vendors spared no expense in making their shops as festive as possible, using jack-o-lantern’s, bubbling cauldrons of various colors, and cobwebs. Between the candles set inside windows and those placed inside the carved pumpkins, the entire street was bathed in warm flickering light. Clusters of jack-o-lanterns were set on display, some bearing scary expressions while others wore artwork on their orange faces. Torrin and Bright strolled side by side while walking through the spectacular and spooky scene, exchanging soft laughter at some outrageous props and costumes young hatchlings dressed in for. Soft music filled the street, performers using the occasion to strike up a few extra coins from the passerby. It truly was immersive, the fading sunlight and haunting songs played by musicians made it easy to be enveloped in the atmosphere of the market. Passing the food district, Bright felt his stomach grumble, it was fragrant with sweet pastries and fresh bread, making it hard for anyone to pass by without buying something. Plus, he couldn’t remember when he had last eaten something.
“You know,” Torrin spoke over a warm cup of crisp apple cider, getting Bright’s attention from a dragon adjourned in a skeletal outfit. “It’s nice to have moments like this, I find myself missing them while we’re working.” Bright took a moment before responding, looking over the other’s face in an attempt to gather if he was truly upset. Torrin was too good at masking his emotions, and Bright too often found himself at a loss of what to say due to that.
“Well maybe having them sparsely is what makes them so special,” Bright felt a pang in his heart from Torrin’s words, though his amount of work wasn’t something he could really control. He was an important figure as the Blackstaff, and Torrin was just as busy with his governing work. “Perhaps we’ll have to try and schedule them more.” His partner hummed in response, taking a sip of his drink while Bright wiped some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, having enjoyed a piece of pumpkin pie.
The two fell into a quiet silence, enjoying the music and each other's company. Bright was glad their moments of quiet were comfortable for the two of them, sometimes talking was too exhausting after a long day of work. Applause interrupted their brief peaceful moment, looking across the street, the performers were bowing after their last song while others were swapping out instruments. Torrin shifted in his seat, excitement bubbling in his chest to see what new sounds he would get to hear. Bright found his partner's love for music so endearing, it was a perfect way to end their night in the Market.
As an anticipated quiet fell over the street, the musicians settled in front of a set of three theremins and a small piano played by a fae, each posing their hands over their instruments before starting to play in unison. Torrin closed his eyes in appreciation of the haunting music causing a warm smile to find its way to Bright’s face. The four dragons had enraptured the crowd with their song, the sounds from their instruments almost sounding like ghostly voices echoing through the street. As the song rose to its climax the crowd clapped, Torrin opening his eyes to look back at Bright, not expecting to meet his gaze.
Torrin reached his hand out to find his partners, the feeling never failing to make his heart flutter. Bright brought their hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Torrin’s. It had been a wonderful night, far better than Bright could have planned. Perhaps he did need to take more breaks from his work and plan things like this. The two of them worked hard enough on the defense and betterment of Waterdeep, so why not take the time to enjoy it?
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>> penned by galaxychilde.
Darkness has settled over the city of Waterdeep.
An eerie stillness stagnates the air, the streets quiet save for the crackling burn of oil lanterns, and a soft sea breeze. The outskirts of the great civilization remain under the careful scrutiny of a patrol of champion dragons, waiting tirelessly for the night to turn to day, and the opportunity to return to their homes. Not a sound stirs the evening’s peaceful atmosphere, and all is well.
In the very epicenter of the city, a dire dichotomy to the quiet outside, the lights of blistering braziers illuminate the forms of masked dragons, dragons of all breeds and backgrounds. Within the walls of a grand hall, decorated by flowing fabrics and floating candles, accompanied with sparkling wines and quaint little appetizers, those dragons-- they dance. Swaying slowly to a passionate violin, a thrumming percussion, and deep, deep brasses. It appears each and every dragon has found a partner for the evening; mingling and laughing. All, but one.
Bright, Blackstaff of Waterdeep.
The Skydancer has grown quite exhausted from mingling, quietly slipping back and out into the shadows. He watches for a moment as dragons hardly notice his disappearance-- and then vanishes into the night air, coming out onto a brilliantly lit terrace with banners hanging high, proclaiming the pride of Waterdeep’s past, present, and future.
Bright wishes, momentarily, that he had such confidence in his former life. Actions he cannot change, words irrevocable, both fill him with a deep-seeded regret. But thankfully, he isn’t alone with his thoughts for long. Or perhaps, given the company… he shan't say what comes to mind.
A smile threatens his expression. He lets it, so long as it keeps the secrets of his thoughts.
“Torrin,” he greets. Torrin comes forward, and their snouts brush.
“Love,” said back, calm, serene. “What are you doing out here?”
Bright eyes him skeptically. “I could ask you the same.”
A laugh. Their talons entangle, claws brushing. Torrin pulls him closer and all is well. His one solace in this twisted, confusing space-- a light in the darkness, though figurative, Torrin is a safe haven. The music from the gala sweeps out onto the terrace, and Torrin bows deeply.
“May I have this dance?” He asks, and Bright laughs now, elation bubbling in his chest.
Wordlessly they melt into a waltz. With delicate steps, claw tips tapping against the marbled floors, the two dragons sway with one another, feeling as though the world has become their own. Theirs to take, to enjoy, something out of a cheesy novel.
But Bright would be lying if he said anything different-- for Torrin is his world, and there is not a thing anyone, let alone himself, could do to change that. Lest Torrin yank it from his claws somehow, Gods forbid, he was quite stuck in his ways of loving this charismatic dragon.
“I just needed some space,” Bright finally says, as they hold each other.
Torrin seems to think this over, humming deep in his throat. “From the partygoers?”
A reaffirming nod, and the two turn on their makeshift dance floor. Torrin smirks against Bright’s shoulder, teeth glinting, before speaking. Before the words even leave his mouth, Bright knows he’s going to say--
“Our brave Blackstaff,” teased. “Running from a little dance. How honorable.”
Bright steps on his talons, very much on purpose. Torrin yelps. “Ow! Alright, dear, lets not get hasty--”
Bright laughs, and shakes his head. “You know how exhausting these things can be. Especially you, of all dragons.”
“Yes, yes,” Torrin says, the teasing tone of voice all but vanishing. “I know. It's… a lot to take in.”
Bright nods, and they tangle closer, if ever possible. Their heartbeats have synced, as have their steps, and he finally digs down, down inside of himself, unearthing the root of the problem.
“...It just feels wrong,” Bright says. “Temporary, this peace and quiet. I can’t help thinking,”
A vague gesture with his claws. “What if something were to happen, and I wasn’t ready for it?”
Torrin purses his lips, and brings them to a slow stop. “Then we handle it together, Bright.”
He says, and Bright meets his eyes, feeling secure, feeling safe, like he’s telling the truth.
“There is nothing that Waterdeep can’t handle, and nothing that we can’t take down as a team.”
Bright searches his gaze, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he can believe it. Instead, he says,
“...I hope so.”
Torrin leans forward, nosing at Bright’s forehead. “Don’t just hope-- believe it. Make it real.”
Bright nods, melting against his mate’s gentle touch. “...Come back with me?”
“Of course.”
The two dragons disentangle, and head back inside. But one of them, he does not do so without a glance up to the stars, praying that the promise of peace, the hopeful air of the evening, will last.
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>> penned by ceruleansky.
Bright hunched over the table with a frown, squinting at the map spread before him in the flickering candlelight. His handwriting scrawled across the parchment was illegible to him. He rubbed his forehead with a sigh. Waterdeep was getting stronger, but there were too many cracks. If neglected, this home would be lost in the blink of an eye.
A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. Torrin poked his head in. "Hey, love. Should've known you'd still be up here."
Bright grunted in response, flicking his tail out to intertwine with Torrin’s as he approached.
Torrin arched his neck to look over Bright’s shoulder. “Oh, can’t this wait until the morning?”
“There’s too many weak points,” he murmured. “I have to delegate the resources tonight.”
Torrin rolled his eyes. “You’re not the only one responsible for things.” He yanked the map away and rolled it up. “C’mon. You’re useless if you can’t even see straight.”
“Hey—“
His protest only earned him a playful smack on the head with the rolled parchment. “None of that. Make these decisions after you’ve had some rest.” His partner smiled knowingly. “C’mon, don’t you want to tuck the kids in?”
Bright grumbled, but permitted Torrin to lead him to their bedroom, their tails still entwined. Nestled in a deep basket of blankets was their first clutch—two perfect eggs.
“Any day now.” Bright turned the eggs and tucked the blankets around them tenderly.
Torrin hummed in response, running a gentle claw over the eggs. “Have you thought about names?”
“A little. Virtues, perhaps?”
“So they’ll gain a certain virtue? You believe in names having power?”
Bright shrugged. “Not really. But I want their names to be meaningful. A gift, of sorts.”
Torrin smiled, giving him a squeeze. “I like that. What do you think they’ll become? Diplomats or fighters?”
“I just hope they’ll get to be kids for a while.”
“Of course! But you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“Perhaps one of each. They would make a great team.” He turned to nuzzle Torrin. “Much like you and I, my dear.”
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>> penned by CrimsonSasaki.
Business in blood—probably the best way to put it—had followed them close these last few months, it was like the ocean storm with a boat lost at sea, rumbling and howling in the distance as if a consistent reminder that it was nearby; it kept going and felt like it wasn't going to stop until the clouds broke apart and cleared away. And as with any storm and calamity, the aftermath is nothing something one can look at, and expect any fewer problems that just keep growing, and growing ...
After being in so many heated situations, one after another, Bright took a second to breathe, it was times like this that a minute to cool down was necessary. Blood was on his hands again, even if this was something that had been done before. One doesn't look and lie deep inside themselves, and say tragedy can't eat away at them—even at the strongest minds. One could understand the need for a calm moment. High intensity kept the world spinning, and he had no desire for it.
Not that this moment, at least. But who can speak for the day after?
Why even think of it at this moment?
The mind is archaic and chaotic, findings the most inopportune and mundane times to revisit the past that was now long left behind. It was time to remove the desire of thinking of tomorrow, and yesterday.
Bright pulled his mind back to the present at the sound of his mate's voice.
"Are you alright?" Torrin asked in a soft and concerned tone, giving his mate a gentle touch on his face. Although Bright was good at keeping up a solid, sturdy posture, but Torrin hadn't known him for years to miss when something was wrong.
Bright could only sigh and lean into the touch; he had to resist the urge to let his eyes close and letting that quiet hum of exhaustion win out—but he persisted, letting his gaze focus upon Torrin. "Yes, I will be. It's just been a lot for the last while, and I feel like I can finally ... relax, breathe, and be more of someone who ... doesn't have to be faced with life, currently. I'm ... I'm glad to finally just rest."
Torrin gave him a small nod. "I agree, a moment to rest is very deserved. Just the two of us, right?"
Words that brought a smile to Bright's lips. "Yes, just the two of us."
To be alone with the one you trust with your life, blood, and soul is the best treasurable moment, and it's not one someone could always ask for. You take it as it comes, and you let it go when it finishes; you do not let it nestle and stay in your heart for too long. That's always the rules for the finer things in life.
Torrin invited his mate to come next to him, and Bright took the offer—the night was decently warm, and their tower was a beacon calling to them to unwind and relax. A moment suspended in time, only for each other, and no one else. Yearning for comfort is a well-kept proof and promise of some peace.
The night still young, comfort was around the Skydancers, and now they had some time with each other. Chatter was lively and consisting of what they could do together—when they got time—alongside small jabs and jokes here and there. The hope for a calm future was always present in their minds somewhere, but neither cared to speak about it, since they knew the realities of the world, it didn't work like that, and probably wouldn't ever.
Even so, with an equal partner by your side, looking forward to that same desire even when the world puts you at odds … clawed hands could only grip onto that hope even tighter.
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>> penned by winterninja.
One knife, two knives, three… he furrowed his brow as he counted silently, his heart hammering in his chest. One was missing. Bright ducked under the table, still unused to having such a short table in his space.
“It has to be here.” The fire was starting to irritate Bright, who found even wearing armor during winter to be too hot, but it was the light by which he preferred to polish his knives.
It was a rather meditative process for him, and he enjoyed doing it to get away from bed when he couldn’t sleep, and needed time to process… things. His mind wasn’t ready to conjure up what he was actually processing yet, and Bright was perfectly happy with that. His bit of Beeswax was warm enough at least to slide over his blades smoothly, providing the smooth coating they needed to stay shiny.
He continued rustling under the table. “Where on Sornieth is that knife-”
“Darling, what are you still doing up?” A familiar voice rumbled behind Bright, and as he rose, he bumped his head, and turning, he blushed.
Even after all these years, the sight of Torrin was enough to make Bright want to double over with the love he had for his husband, but somehow, he managed to stay upright.
“I’m just…” he gestured at the table, “polishing my knives?” It came out as more of a question than he had been aiming for. “Yes, I…”
“Can’t sleep?”
His ears pressed back slightly, and the light in Bright’s eyes dimmed. “I can’t stop thinking of her.”
“Suzaku.”
The silence was enough of an answer, and at that, Torrin enveloped his mate in a deep hug.
“She would have loved your present life.”
“I know she just. I missed who she was. I don't know who she'll be. Why did she have to go?”
“The same reason as any of us. It was her time.”
“It shouldn’t have been.” He whispered, his tears seeking their home in Torrin’s chest. “When will it stop hurting?”
“It doesn’t. And that’s the truest sign of your love for her; that will burn brighter than a thousand suns at the end of the day.”
Bright sighed and took a deep breath, stepping back. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Now are you coming to bed?” A smile curled on Torrin’s lips. “I have the most interesting story to tell you about Kojiro. You’ll never believe what he did today…”
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>> penned by SoftFrogger.
As a soldier and the protector of his land, Bright always wondered what it would be like to die in battle.
Of course, it was a bit too late for that now. Instead of falling in battle with Ahmunrahx, he was instead falling from the sky. Quite literally, actually. The earth around him shook and crumbled, falling into the abyss below piece by piece until he, eventually, was close to becoming swallowed up by the nothingness that was the air as well. As a last ditch effort to stay standing, he leapt on an abandoned house, desperately trying to grab onto steady ground. He could hear screams and frightened shouts around him, yet everything was falling too fast for him to see anyone else around him. He himself yelled, asking where people were, if people were still with him, if he was the only one; yet, he heard no replies. The wood, frail from the weakened foundations, crumbled under him until he slipped, diving headfirst to the nothingness that was below.
When the dust settled and the high towers of Waterdeep stopped crumbling, the first thing that the Blackstaff thought of was his mate. If he had died when the land plunged into the depths… or before that, even. Then he wondered where he would find his body.
The Avariel shivered, pushing the thought of Torrin’s broken, lifeless corpse from his mind as he shoved bricks away from his body and brushed dust off his scales. What could be worried about must be resolved. He must find Torrin at any cost.
He looked through the remains of the city, seeing his people, wounded or dead. Parents were shouting for hatchlings and, already, those who could walk were bringing those who couldn’t to medical tents. He would have his sentries take care of the ones that were too wounded to be moved, but for now, he prepared himself for the worst as he started searching the rubble, calling for the one he loved.
Hours passed, and he wondered if he would ever find Torrin. The body count was too great and the ruins were too heavy. Even if he was alive, if he was under one of the larger buildings when it fell, there was no knowing when– if– he could be moved before time ran out. Anxiety strangled Bright’s chest as his clawed hands grabbed broken wood, cut his hands on shattered glass, and grasped for anything that looked remotely like the dark mane that he knew and loved.
His search was not in vain, as he soon saw the wounded Drow curled up a good distance away, his chest rising and falling steadily. Relief flooded Bright as he rushed towards Torrin, shouting his name. Torrin looked up, struggling to move as the Archangel fell beside him, surveying his wounds.
"My love." Bright's voice was a mere whisper among the wind surrounding the two. He could barely hear himself, yet Torrin smiled.
"I am fine. Nothing rest cannot fix," the darker dragon said as he slowly and painfully made his way to his feet. The young dragon was caked in blood; Bright was unsure of whether it was his or the creatures they had slain. Either way, he seemed to be mostly unharmed, save for scrapes and bruises from the long fall down; he walked with a limp, but it was most likely only a sprain. Anything that he could see could be patched up in a fortnight.
Speaking of fall. Bright's head perked up, looking around the area. Where were they? He was so concerned about finding Torrin that he had completely neglected to remember that they had fallen to a completely different place. They had fallen for a noticeable amount of time, longer than he had thought possible with where they were geographically. Torrin seemed to think the same as he slowly climbed up the fallen building that used to be part of a healer's encampment at one point in time, now reduced to a small mountain of torn tarp and dusty cinder blocks.
The question of where they were was, of course, left unanswered. Neither dragon had seen anything like this before terrain-wise. As far as the eye could see, water surrounded them. Neat little islands that used to be part of the large chunk of Waterdeep were scattered around the ocean, but other than that, no land appeared as far as the eye could see.
No. He was wrong. Squinting, he could see, just past the horizon, tall pine trees, bright oranges and yellows, shining in the sun like pillars of pure gold. Trees meant land. Land surely had to mean some form of civilisation. People he could talk to, people who could help. Maybe they could even find out how to return back to where they came from, if luck was on their side. A smile grew on his face; they could rebuild. No matter how long it would take, no matter how much it would cost, Waterdeep would become the paradise it used to be before the war.
The two lovers looked each other in the eyes, and Bright saw the same fierce determination in Torrin’s eyes that he held in his heart. They were safe. They were alive. They were together.
No matter what, they would keep it that way.
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>> penned by PhantasiDreamin.
Bright stalked about the edge of the waters. In Waterdeep, the waves would lap against your claws. It was as if they were inviting you to play with them for eternity, to dance with the waves as the sea would fill your soul before it fills your body. Bright took up one of the many knives under his feathered wings, and threw it into the ground. The sea did not care about this attack. Instead, it continues to lap against the knife, sucking it deeper and deeper into the sands of time. Bright snatched it from the sand's embrace before reading the handle. It was a beautifully crafted thing, with a gilded blade that hides a dangerous iron edge. The handle was ebony, and in the pommel was a beautiful star ruby. He read the handle aloud softly. "To my Dearest." He let a smile spread across his face. "Oh, Torrin." He purred, sheathing the knife back under his wing. He looks back to Waterdeep, an idea forming in his crafty mind. He began to walk back to the city of magic, the sun's rays waving one last goodbye before sinking into the abyss.
It took him an hour to get everything prepared. The traffic was rather hectic in the late hour as dragons rushed from building to building to get their last affairs sorted before going home to mates and children. Regardless, he was able to finish before the moon would dip any lower, and that was his goal. Instead, it rose steadily in the sky, full and bright. Bright knocked on the door of his mate's office, his excitement well hidden from years of practice. "Mmph, snck, come in!" Torrin called, his mouth obviously full. Bright covered his mouth politely to hide a snicker, having an idea of what he was doing. He opened the door to see his mate with two large stacks of paperwork, and a napkin covering a plate full of something. Torrin raised his feathered head, nodding sleepily as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Good to see you, Bright." He murmured, a half smile coming to his face. Bright strode up to his desk, his grace apparent in every step he took. He looks at the foreboding stacks, whistling pleasantly. "That looks like a lot of work, dear. If they would take out all those spaces and flowery language, you would only have ten sheets to work on." He commented drily, causing his mate to smirk as he rested his head on a claw, marveling at how beautiful Bright was, his body shining radiantly in the moonlight. "You know they like to keep us busy, my love. Though, it is not all that bad." He shrugged, letting his eyes wander to his plate. Bright lifted the napkin, and shook with mirth.
It was a plate stacked with all sorts of delicious pastries, each one obviously expensive. Bright looked to his sheepish mate, shaking his head in mock despair. "Dear me, has someone been bribing you? Work in exchange for pastry? Shame." He pretended to fuss at Torrin, claws on hips. Torrin put his hand on his heart in mock indignation, jaw dropped to reveal his sharp teeth. "I would never! I am far too honest for that! I only paid for half of this work with pastry!" He declared. The two sat in silence for a bit, before they descended into a fit of chuckles. It seemed all of this activity woke up a certain fluffy little Phoenix in his hood, who began to chirp. It was obviously hungry now, disturbed from its lovely slumber. Bright fed it some of Torrin's pastry as Torrin tilted his head at his mate. "Is there anything you may desire? You look as if you have something planned." Torrin asked, noting the strange bulge in his cloak pocket. Bright went behind Torrin, hugging his waist. "Me? Oh I simply want a walk, dear. I have had some pins and needles in my legs, and I imagine you have some too." he purred, nuzzling his mate. Torrin blushed as he felt their cloaks lift, the scale on scale touching causing his head feathers to raise. "Mm, you know I have duties, dear." He mumbled weakly, not convinced by his own argument. Bright licked the crumbs from his face, humming at how good they tasted. “Mm, if you have duties, I suppose I can not distract you. Oh well.” He shrugs lightly, beginning to step outside before Torrin’s eyes widened and he gently grabbed the shoulder of his mate. “I believe all this can wait.” He declared, causing Bright to smirk. “Where shall we go first?” Torrin asked, Bright slipping his claws in Torrin’s before leading his mate out of Blackstaff Tower.
The two walked alongside the waves on the outskirts of Waterdeep. Torrin enjoyed the cool water and soft sand on his talons, and the smell of the sea breeze was intoxicating. He hums as the splash of the water went a little higher than normal, flowing around his strong legs. “This is a lovely view, Bright. Thank you.” He smiled, leaning against his mate. Bright reached into a pocket in his cloak, smirking. “You know I would not do all of this just for a walk. I have something for you.” He had something in his claws, his eyes twinkling. Torrin turned to him, his tail wagging. “Ooh?” The drow struggled to hide his obvious excitement. Bright released his grip on his talon, revealing a beautiful black candle. Torrin’s jaw dropped as it floated around him, and began to multiply as it surrounded his head like a halo. He looks at Bright, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. “These are beautiful, Bright. What are they?” He asked earnestly, touching one in curiosity. It did not burn his claws in the slightest, only having a slight warmth. Bright smiled proudly. “Everburning Candles, dear. I have learned to enchant them to always float around your head. You can dismiss and move them as you please.” He puffed his feathers up proudly, his tail wagging in satisfaction with how beautiful they are. Torrin turns to the sea, his smile spreading across his entire face. “Bright..thank you. Just, thank you.” He sighed wistfully, his words not able to match the sheer joy in his face. Bright kissed him, nuzzling his mate as they both stared into the infinite sea.
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>> penned by Noonchi.
"A marble staircase is a bit over the top, don't you agree?"
Bright cracks a smile as be bites his tongue to suppress his laughter. Both from Torrin's breath tickling his feathers as he leans in to whisper, and from his remark on the gaudy architecture of the venue.
They had received an invitation to a gala months ago, and after debate on if it were truly important that they attend, Bright finally agreed to go. Clusterings of dragons litter the stairs into the building, which stands looming overhead in white polished stone. Music filters outside from the large open wooden doors and windows, to which Bright can feel Torrin leaning ahead to listen.
"Live performers?" He looks to his love who quickly nods in confirmation, he can feel Torrin's quickened pace from his excitement. As they enter, they are greeted by the staff of the event, all dressed in formal black and white as they bow and take their names for the attendance ledger. As they are shown the grand ballroom, spread before them is a floor so pristine, it appears more like a mirror to another world. Above them dangle crystal chandeliers and ornate paintings set into the arched and vaulted ceiling.
Some dragons dance in the center of the floor while others happily chat off to the side. As Bright scans the room he hums to himself, quite the turnout with 100 or so dragons with some still arriving. He turns to his partner who gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. As they meet eyes Bright already knows everything Torrin wants to say:
Everything's alright, we're here together.
The idea of so many bodies crammed into a confined space makes him uneasy, so much could go wrong if pandemonium spread throughout the party. Bright quickly dismissed the thought before it spiraled into something worse, instead he focused on Torrin who had already done his own survey of the room.
"Shall we?" Torrin smiled as he looked at Bright, just wanting to be sure before the two of them plunged into the sea that was this ballroom. He took a moment before answering, but quickly Bright leaned down and gave his mate a tender kiss on the cheek. "Lead the way."
Hours of socializing and Bright was beginning to grow tired of hearing his own voice. So many attending had questions on Waterdeep, how everything was coming along and his workings as Blackstaff. He thanked the heavens that Torrin was so adept at taking some of the focus onto himself so Bright could have a break here and there.
The two sipped on some champagne to wet their parched throats, enjoying a moment of as much silence as they could muster in such a busy room. As they set their glasses down, Torrin let out a long and deep sigh, grabbing Bright's attention from the trance he had entered. "Perhaps if we do a bit of dancing we'll be free from questions," with a coy smile on his lips, Torrin looked up to his partner through his lashes. "Will you dance with me?"
How could he deny such an offer? The two took to the floor in elegant motions as they easily blended in with the other swirling figures. It was so easy for the two to slip into their dance that to party goers, they could be convinced that they had practiced it. The music was lovely, so much so that Torrin closed his eyes as he allowed Bright to lead them in their waltz. It always took his breath away to see him so entranced, so simply at peace as the two spun and stepped throughout the room. Suddenly the room went dark, followed by loud gasps and the outbreak of murmur all around them. Quickly, Bright widened his eyes in an attempt to see anything, even a glimpse of a silhouette though the room was pitch black.
“Torrin-” His voice was higher than he had meant it to be, showing the beginnings of his panic as his hands clutched to the other. They stopped their dancing, as he assumed everyone around them had done. Though on the dancefloor, some start to shift, bumping into one another and causing some to stumble. A shrill scream made Bright tense as someone was knocked to the floor then stepped on.
“Bryn it’s alright just hold on to me,” Torrin’s voice was close but the noise in the room was growing louder as dragons also started to panic. Bright’s chest felt tight as he tried to breathe, but the joustling of bodies and some being so close made the air seem so thick. What was going on? Why hadn’t the lights turned back on?
Torrin can feel his lover tightening in his arms, the situation was only progressively getting worse and Bright’s panic was rising by the second. He wished to pull him away from the center of the room, though the fear of losing him in the crowd kept him in place. This room was a volcano waiting to erupt as some grew angry that this turn of events was ruining their fun.
Pressing himself flush against the other, Torrin rests his chin on Bright’s shoulder so that he can hear him despite the voices all around them. “Do you remember the last time we attended a party like this?” Bright latches onto the sound of the other's voice, like a lighthouse amidst crashing waves and heavy rainfall. Of course he remembers, how could he forget such a lovely night.
“I do, I remember how beautiful you were in your mask,” Torrin can’t help but chuckle, the sound is so soft and airy in his ears it makes a warm feeling spread across Bright’s chest. “Your eyes were captivating, surrounded by gold.”
“You’re a flirt,” Torrin feels the weight crushing down on his shoulders ease as Bright slowly unwinds from a tight panicked coil in his arms. “I remember you practically fleeing from the venue.”
Bright smiles, and Torrin can tell without even seeing his face. “We’ll be alright, we always are.” His words are genuine, so full of confidence as they hold onto each other in the darkness of the room. After a few moments, the chandeliers above flicker on and off, then finally bathe the room in steady warm light. The crowd applauds, a few crying and wiping their tears and ruined makeup away furiously. Bright finally breathes, filling his lungs then emptying them to their capacity as the two pull away from one another.
His heart is still pounding in his chest, and the floor no longer sways under his feet as Torrin leads the two of them from the dancefloor. Before Bright realizes it, the two are standing outside at the same marble staircase they had remarked on earlier. He had been moving his feet without even noticing that Torrin was taking them outside. The night air is crisp and refreshing, and inside the merriment and music pick up once more like nothing had even happened. Looking at his mate, he can’t find the words for how relieved he is to have him. What if he had been alone? The love he feels is one that is for lack of words. He feels it throughout his being, from the tips of his feathers to the bottom of his heart. Only until Torrin raises a brow at him does he snap to his senses and realizes he had been staring.
“Let’s head home my love, my feet hurt from dancing.”
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