Pythia

Prophetess, Psychic, Diviner, Dragon of Cleansing

Let Pythia throw you some bones and she’ll tell you a story to rattle your own skeleton. With no use for her eyes any longer, she ties away her sight and listens to the rest of her senses. Pythia used to be revered, used to throw her weight around, used to run with certain magic crowds that tried to make things go their way, favorable to the visions they shared. But that soon broke down, clans were burned, dragons died, and what rubble left to sit on wasn’t worth all the trouble. Her remaining crew weren’t worth much either.
>>Look at this place. Look what we’ve done. We’ve built nothing, cared for nothing, loved nothing. But there’s so much to love. And we couldn’t see it.<<
With dripping, bloody claws she shrouded her head. She prayed for forgiveness, said her apologies to any that could still listen, and left. She found a new bed.

Now she specializes in cleansing. She’ll read you a future you may need to hear. She makes sure you’re not drowning in magic like she was, that you don’t have your head in the ground or clouds (there’s a difference). Pythia has settled in the Heartland, in a neat cave some of the family nocs have carved for her. She welcomes visitors and eagerly collects recordings of music and fine blankets. She loves to bury herself in cushions and bedding. Her favorite sound is the laughter of hatchlings.