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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
11.17 m
Wingspan
7.16 m
Weight
9223.35 kg
Genetics
Mist
Shaggy (Gaoler)
Shaggy (Gaoler)
Robin
Streak (Gaoler)
Streak (Gaoler)
Mist
Braids (Gaoler)
Braids (Gaoler)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Gaoler
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
7
DEF
6
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Biography
Remember! Misha Bear loves you! Even if you don't love her back~!
Solarium
these flowers
were not grown with love
I fed them with blood
and now they hang from the ceiling,
glistening red with dew.
the glass is scuffed.
there was a bear here, last night.
she tried to break in
but I shot her,
and she unraveled
into millions of pieces
of colourful silk.
someone created this beast.
someone gave her a name.
and I ended her life.
"Misha"
The arms of a little girl are welcoming to the ones she loves. Gently, she reaches up, and innocently wraps them around the object of her affection, perhaps a grandmother, or an uncle only seen once a year.
Returning the affection, the family member will gently pat her head, or offer a kind word.
“Why do you hug like that? You’re doing it wrong and it’s weird. Here, let me show you how to do it.”
Someone else swoops out of the shadows to hug her. It is a sterile and cold touch. One that makes her shy away, not understanding what is happening.
She looks at me and I see her discomfort, but am unable to do anything for her. The shadow leaves long after I do, and she slinks away to find someone better.
But the scent of fear still lingers in the air, soft enough for her acute senses to pick up on it. She looks for the source, but only sees me. I avert my gaze from hers, but still understand what she says.
Why are you a stranger to me if I’ve known you all my life?
You see, if my hands have been anywhere near your neck, I’ve probably thought about how easy it would be to kill you. That’s why I’ve been trained to never offer hugs.
It has nothing to do with you, I just have really bad intrusive thoughts sometimes.
She looks at me, and lifts her upper lip, showing her teeth, glistening white with fresh strings of saliva.
And now is the time I choose to make eye contact. Her eyes are a curious colour, one only heard of in the most bone chilling of myths. I half expect them to freeze me solid, but instead their empty stare speaks to me, saying:
I am not a part of this reality.
I am not a part of this reality.
I am not a part of this reality.
Someone come take me away.
Solarium
these flowers
were not grown with love
I fed them with blood
and now they hang from the ceiling,
glistening red with dew.
the glass is scuffed.
there was a bear here, last night.
she tried to break in
but I shot her,
and she unraveled
into millions of pieces
of colourful silk.
someone created this beast.
someone gave her a name.
and I ended her life.
"Misha"
The arms of a little girl are welcoming to the ones she loves. Gently, she reaches up, and innocently wraps them around the object of her affection, perhaps a grandmother, or an uncle only seen once a year.
Returning the affection, the family member will gently pat her head, or offer a kind word.
“Why do you hug like that? You’re doing it wrong and it’s weird. Here, let me show you how to do it.”
Someone else swoops out of the shadows to hug her. It is a sterile and cold touch. One that makes her shy away, not understanding what is happening.
She looks at me and I see her discomfort, but am unable to do anything for her. The shadow leaves long after I do, and she slinks away to find someone better.
But the scent of fear still lingers in the air, soft enough for her acute senses to pick up on it. She looks for the source, but only sees me. I avert my gaze from hers, but still understand what she says.
Why are you a stranger to me if I’ve known you all my life?
You see, if my hands have been anywhere near your neck, I’ve probably thought about how easy it would be to kill you. That’s why I’ve been trained to never offer hugs.
It has nothing to do with you, I just have really bad intrusive thoughts sometimes.
She looks at me, and lifts her upper lip, showing her teeth, glistening white with fresh strings of saliva.
And now is the time I choose to make eye contact. Her eyes are a curious colour, one only heard of in the most bone chilling of myths. I half expect them to freeze me solid, but instead their empty stare speaks to me, saying:
I am not a part of this reality.
I am not a part of this reality.
I am not a part of this reality.
Someone come take me away.
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
Meat stocks are currently depleted.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
Feed this dragon Plants.
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Exalting Misha to the service of the Shadowbinder will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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