Viatrix
(#61960663)
Level 9 Imperial
Familiar
Muckbottom Catfish
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
21.61 m
Wingspan
20.88 m
Weight
6243.59 kg
Genetics
Abyss
Basic
Basic
Copper
Butterfly
Butterfly
Tan
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 9 Imperial
EXP: 19 / 21526
STR
6
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
25
INT
39
VIT
15
MND
6
Biography
| __._ |
 In the beginning...he remembers hunger. Coldness and misery. They were always so, so hungry, so alone too. Only three of them, the youngest that was not blood. The oldest that protected them both and he himself. They were a truly pathetic sign, starved to the bone, wide eyed, scared. He was the most scared, always hiding behind his Brother, always clinging to the back of his clothing. Hiding behind copper red bangs. The world was unkind and no one wanted them at first glance, three skinny young lads, the only pretty thing about him was his thick braid of coppery red hair. Every morning his brother insisted on combing it, with his fingers, patiently over and over again, as best as he could. Insisted on braiding it again, neat and tightly, orderly as if they were noble born. It was the only soft thing they knew. And then winter came. Cold and unforgiving, even in White City. They would have frozen to death on the streets, even the Gutters offered no protection for them, frail, thin, vulnerable as they were. It was a last attempt to save them, to prevent them from dying in each other’s arms. Loyal, strong, protective brother, he took them by the hand, carried him when his legs were too cold too carry him, he brought them into a new chapter of their lives. Warm and sheltered, fed and bathed, they were lucky, so lucky. Days and weeks passed, blurred into months. Food and clothes and parental affection, they filled out their bony frames nicely, softened sharp edges and dulled distrust. After all, they were safe here, yes? And still, every morning his brother combed his long hair, with combs of ivory and braided it with ribbons of silk and pearls, their routine gone over in flesh and blood. Until they couldn’t anymore. Father came in the night, large hand pressing over his mouth, make no sound, the flash of a heavy ring in moonlight. He kicked, he struggled, scared, naive as he was. Again the flash of metal in the dark, this time a blade and finally, blissful oblivion. Fainting, fading. Only to awaken in soft muted dark, on pillows of velvet and silks of sheet, air heavy with the scent of oils and candles and exotic fruits, his braid was gone, his clothing replaced with a loose gown out of soft fabric, angelic he looked. Strangers entered his new realm, the room large and filled with a bed, with luxurious furniture, one could live here and yet, it was a cage, golden and cushioned, yet a cage regardless. He was trapped, he was scared. When the man and the woman entered, he only barely recognized them as friends of the couple that adopted them. They were friends, yes? So why weren’t they helping him? He cried, he cried and he screamed and they did not like it. At first they beat him with their bare hands or a whip of silk. But then they realized they had something far greater to use. They starved him of food, of light and interaction. Cast in darkness, hunger and loneliness, he was alone with his fears. Clawing at the wooden door until he hit bone and metal did nothing, leaving marks in stone and mortar with his bare hands only caused pain and crying left only unbearable thirst behind. He had to give in or die on his pride and his fear. A terrible thing cast upon a young boy, clinging to his sanity for his dear life. They wanted him soft, they wanted him pliant and innocent. Over time, they taught him to smile regardless of his true feelings. Over time, he forgot what it was like to feel anything at all. Over time, he became a sweet, pleasant toy, waiting patiently in his underground room to be used and then abandoned. The only freedom they granted him was the one he found within the pages of the few books given, in the ink black worlds he painted himself. Or underneath the shimmering, sweetly scented surface of his bath, under water, muted and safe for a moment. They had a servant, only one, that always brought him food, supplies. Sometimes already cooked meals, sometimes ingredients, just enough to last a few days, but not longer. Usually, someone would come before the supplies could run out. Bring him more food, fresh candles, more ink and paper. But not this time. He waited, patiently, smiling even when the last crumb of food was consumed, smiling even as the last candle faded into nothing but a thin wisp of smoke. He waited, for how long? He didn’t knew. He didn’t remember, just as he didn’t remember who he was before this room. Before the smiling and the candles, before the paintings of black ink and the nightly visits. The knowledge gained consumed the memories of what was before. So why did the hunger feel so familiar? Why was the darkness and the cold a feeling that he knew, like an old friend. He sat in darkness and waited, braid undone and gown slipping of slender shoulders, because that was how they wanted him. But they didn’t came. No key turned in the lock, instead he heard the groan of metal forced open, of wood splintering. Of cursing and growling. He should be afraid, instead he smiled, even when the light hurt his far too sensitive eyes. How long had it been since he last saw the sun? Since he had talked to someone else? He didn’t remember. The man in the doorway starred as he took in the sight of him, stood empty handed except for the red tinged blade. And he smiled. Never had he seen a man more beautiful than Irrath, his savior. The one that took him out of his little realm, of his room with his worn down books and his snuffed out candles. He was called by a name that he didn’t remember, the sound different to what he was called before, there were tears too, why was the man, why was Irrath crying? He was taken somewhere else, a lacen veil over his teary eyes because the sun’s rays stung unbearably in them, scorched his porcelain white skin, hurt in its intensity. There were too many sounds, too many scents, too much to see. He was overwhelmed and confused, scared despite the sweet smile plastered on his lips, yet never reaching his hurting eyes. Irrath, who am I to you?, he asked one day, after living for who knew how long with the other. In a home that held a ruined kind of decadence in it, shattered windows and worn down satin, scratched furniture and rusted gold. The stench of the sewers only overpainted by the scented candles burning everywhere he went. Never alone too, always on Irrath’s arm, his hand in the other’s. I don’t remember. Hands in his hair, combing, braiding, a feeling too familiar to forget, it was right there, at the forefront of his mind only to slip through his fingers like fine sand. Love. He loved and he existed only to love. The couple before, not replaced by Irrath, the man that knew his past and knew his future. Why do you want me to cry?, the others never liked it when he cried, that much he knew, remembered. They wanted him to show only his smile, only be pleasant, be pleasing. Don’t you like my smile? Irrath, poor, poor Irrath, he was so sad, he really wanted him to remember, everything, anything. He took what he could give and brought things. Ribbons of silk and pearls, citrus fruits that left a pleasant tingling on his tongue, books of history and romance and biology. He devoured it all, as little as he knew of his own life story, the books he remembered. The plot, the wording, the knowledge they wanted to teach, he knew it, remembered it in crystalline sharpness. Once, Irrath claimed it saved him time and lives and resources. I can have anything I want?, Irrath looked at him as they rested, side by side, face to face on the too narrow bed that had a familiar scent to its sheets, its pillows. Fingertips tracing the softness of his cheeks, the slanted curve of his eyes, the cupid’s bow of his lips. As if Irrath still could not believe him to be a thing of reality, he looked pained, adoring, so in love as he nodded. I want to stay then. With you. 
| ___ |
code & assets by archaic #19153
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