Hirondelle
(#63528328)
The City of Swallows | she/her
Familiar
Slight Eyewing
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Nocturne
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.27 m
Wingspan
7.31 m
Weight
358.85 kg
Genetics
Antique
Crystal
Crystal
Sanddollar
Bee
Bee
Sanddollar
Filigree
Filigree
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
9
DEF
5
QCK
8
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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"But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave—there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide— As if their tops had feebly given A void within the filmy Heaven. The waves have now a redder glow— The hours are breathing faint and low— And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence. " ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ The sand is bright beneath the moon, sparkling like an ocean of stars amidst the pale light. It is here, in the cold and quiet oasis of night that one might glimpse visions of another world. Indeed, the city rises like an illusion from the sands; a ghostly echo of alabaster pillars and pale adobe walls. It is a place that thrums with phantom grandeur and turbulent magic. . . for once it was the home of elves. The lost city of Hirondelle was once a place buried beneath the waves. Its glittering halls saw the rise and fall of generations of kings and it echoed with the siren voices of sea elves. Eventually, such places grow a sentience of their own and Hirondelle hummed along with the songs of its people. Even now, it remembers the thrum of music and the pale flickering light cast through the water. Then, the sea retreated; replaced instead by a vast wasteland of dry sand and harsh sunlight. The elves disappeared along with the water and Hirondelle was left alone. It looked out upon the dunes and upwards to a dark sky flecked with distant stars and wished that it too could leave this place. Night was approaching. Other travelers might have shivered at that, but Belvedere kept bravely on, pausing only to light a lantern. He’d already spied the cathedral in the distance. Now that it was in his sights, it would not escape him, and he was soon standing before the massive doors. The doorkeeper was another Imperial, as dark as Belvedere was bright. “Elf,” he pronounced, in a low voice that seemed to rumble up from beneath the ground. Belvedere was surprised to be recognized; most dragons just thought him to be a particularly handsome Imperial. “But then again,” he reminded himself, “not all who dwell here are mere dragons, either...” “You would be Belvedere the architect, then. The storyteller is waiting for you. Come, I’ll show you the way.” After the opulence and splendor of the Cathedral’s halls, the firepit, with its cozier surroundings, came as a relief to Belvedere. He reclined beside it, grateful for the warmth that seeped into his tired limbs. “It’s a lot to take in at once, isn’t it?” asked a soft voice. He looked up as another Imperial settled down next to him. “I am Soleil, writer of stories. It’s good to finally meet you, Belvedere.” “The pleasure is mine, Lady.” Belvedere inclined his head politely. He and Soleil had been corresponding for some time now. In his studies of magical architecture, he had reached out to various beings whom he could share knowledge with. Soleil was no architect, but she had something that most other architects paid no heed: stories of a lost elven city. Hirondelle, the City of Swallows. There were many tales of lost and hidden cities, but Belvedere found Hirondelle especially tantalizing. There was, for one thing, some evidence to suggest it’d actually existed: Sea Elves sometimes sang of it, and in their oldest records, there were references to “lands left behind by the waves”, some of which could refer to the magical city. But how could something as great as a city be lost? There were many stories about that, too. “The elves weren’t the only ones who went away with the sea. Why, their city did, too. It just took longer, that’s all...” “This could mean that the city was eroded and eventually destroyed by the elements. It might not be there anymore....” “I wouldn’t be surprised if that place had magic of its own! Elvish magic is a wonder. They could have cast a spell upon their city, hidden it beneath the sand...or even in the sky...” “Magic’s unpredictable. The elves might not have had anything to do with it. It could’ve developed a life of its own....” “Nothing but a mirage. An optical illusion. Fata Morgana—ever heard of that?” “It’s always seen in a desert. A hallucination brought on by dehydration and exhaustion—that’s all it really is....” Superstitions and suppositions swirled in the air as Soleil laid out parchments and summarized what she’d found so far. “I figured it’d be best to just put everything together. After all,” she said with a wink, “one never knows what might be useful.” “That’s true.” And in fact, a few words were jangling in Belvedere’s mind. It’s always seen in a desert... He eased a paper out of the sheaf, and Soleil’s ears perked up. “Ah, that’s one of the older accounts. I couldn’t put a name or a time to it, but judging by the description of the terrain, it’s somewhere in Dragonhome.” “The Earthshaker’s domain? Hmm, I’ve never visited this area.” “Barely anybody has. This part of the desert, beyond civilization, beyond even wilderness, is the deep, deep desolation...” Soleil’s eyes briefly grew dark with foreboding, but Belvedere didn’t notice. The deep desolation? That sounded like a place that could hide a legendary city. Beneath his enchanted veil, his face shone with a smile. He had spent long hours studying maps of Sornieth’s regions, and the road unrolled before his mind’s eye. He could ask about the leads Soleil had gathered and hopefully find new information... “You’ve given me so much material to work with. I thank you, storyteller; this will greatly aid my search.” “Happy to hear it. Will you be staying the night in the Cathedral?” He shook his head. “I’ve already secured lodgings elsewhere. And besides,” he admitted, “I’m eager to follow up on these leads.” “Then I’ll wish you the best of luck, Belvedere.” Soleil smiled brightly back. “I know how it feels to chase a legend. May yours come true someday.” Fata Morgana. An optical illusion. Nothing but a mirage... The words crowded close in Belvedere’s mind, threatening to smother the fires of his enthusiasm. He pushed them away and almost defiantly spread out the map he had brought. It had been many months since he’d taken his leave of Soleil. He had painstakingly followed the leads in Dragonhome, interviewing the locals. Many of them had blinked in bafflement at his story. A lost city? All the cities they knew of were right here; this was civilization.... “But I will not find what I’m looking for there,” Belvedere thought stubbornly. He blocked in a portion of his map, scrawled an X across it. These crossed-out sections marked the terrain he’d already investigated thoroughly— “But what if I didn’t check carefully enough? What if I should have waited longer? What if—” There was still much of the desert to investigate. He pressed stolidly on. Hours later, the moon rose. Belvedere watched as its light turned the dunes around him into glittering fields of white.The stars blazed down, as cold and clear as frost. The desert was now illuminated in its entirety. Not another living soul...and certainly no magical city. Once again, Belvedere’s head drooped. He stared blearily at his map. There was still plenty of ground to cover. “This part of the desert, beyond civilization, beyond even wilderness, is the deep, deep desolation...” Soleil’s words rang in his mind as he stumbled on. They joined other defeatist pronouncements, pessimistic thoughts that urged him to give up his quest and go home. “You’re not the first to go looking for the Hidden City.” Cross out a square mile, head to another... “Countless others have tried it before.” Should he head north, or south, or— —turn back, turn back... “What makes you think you’ll succeed where they failed? Who are you to think that?” The desolation was taking its toll. Elves had stronger minds than most, but even they felt the keen emptiness of never-ending silence, and of a task that seemed impossible to complete. “I should give up...but what if I’m close? A moving city...If I leave now, it might never appear to me. Never...” Belvedere slumped down. His body was tired, but the exhaustion weighing upon his heart was greater. It was a deeper desolation than even the most dead and distant desert could create, the desolation of utter defeat. All he could do was close his eyes. He was not waiting, not planning, not even thinking about anything. He was just...there. It took him a long time to be aware of the sound: a soft, breathy fluttering, which his mind rationalized as the wind blowing across the sand. But he couldn’t feel a breeze, and the sound grew steadily louder. He looked up. The stars winked in and out of view, crisscrossed by many small, swooping shadows. Bats? “No...they’re birds. Swallows?” The air around him also seemed to be growing lighter. “I must’ve fallen asleep. Dawn is breaking....” And again, his explanations were dashed when he saw the faint forms taking shape around him. Walls, windows, doors...all shining with the same pearly radiance. The birds flitted over them, leaving swirls of color across the structures. As Belvedere tried to follow their flight, they blurred, becoming one with the stone: curling corals, glimmering shells, motifs of dancing fish and dragons... ...or...elves? The architect gasped and then laughed in wonder as the city rose up around him. Its splendor brightened the desert. The moon shone down on those graceful towers as it’d done all those years ago, when the city had rung with voices and song. Hirondelle. Belvedere’s eyes were shaded by an enchanted veil, but he pulled it back now, so that he could see the city more clearly. And he began exploring—how could he not? He’d been searching for it for years, and here it was, every bit as wonderful as he had dreamed.... It seemed spectral, yet to his touch, it felt as solid as the cliffs of Dragonhome. He noticed right away how tall everything was—but then, it had been built by Sea Elves. The height of these dwellings wouldn’t have impeded them underwater. Sea Elves. They’d sung songs of this city, sung in this city, and Belvedere thought he could hear faint echoes of their music. He remembered how, as a child, he’d been told, “If you hold a seashell up to your ear, you’ll hear the sound of the waves.” Now, as he pressed his ear to a stone wall, it seemed he could hear those bygone songs more clearly. The desert was cold at night, but the stone felt unusually warm, and with those distant echoes drumming in his ears, the city seemed to Belvedere like a vast, beating heart. The rhythm soothed him. Despite his best efforts, fatigue remained, and it gently pressed him down onto the ground. His eyes closed. This time, he slept in deepest contentment, the city standing warm and serene around him. Dawn was really and truly lightening the sky when the flutter of the swallows’ wings awoke him once again. He lifted his head and stared, wide-eyed, as the city started to dissolve. There was a great sigh as the solid structures broke apart into millions of fluttering birds. Belvedere would have called out to them to stay, but he was so awestruck that he couldn’t speak. He could only watch as the city rapidly disappeared, lifting off into the heavens as a great flock of swallows. They vanished westward, where the sky was still dark, becoming one with the desert air again. Sand cascaded off the architect’s flanks as he stood up. Once again, he was surrounded by desolation, and he could already feel the first prickles of the desert heat. But the hidden city had revealed itself to him at last. His quest had ended, and finally he could head home. On his way back, Belvedere stopped by the Cathedral to give Soleil a report of his discovery. The storyteller rejoiced with him, and a written account of the architect’s travels joined the manuscripts on her crowded shelves. He had been so proud to see it, neatly bound in a book of traveler’s tales. Now, as he looked back on that memory, it was with the sinking feeling of uncertainty. He’d thought that finding the city would put his mind at ease. He’d known the legends his whole life; confirming that they weren’t just legends should have freed his thoughts, left him willing and able to turn to other things. But it didn’t. “I have to go back. I have to find it again. I must have proof that it exists...!” And this was a curious thing to think, because in truth, hardly anyone mocked Belvedere’s story of encountering the city. This was Sornieth, after all; the dragons were themselves creatures of magic. They might not have agreed to join Belvedere’s search, but they would have hesitated to dismiss his tale. And so the architect found himself searching the desert once again. He headed back to the place where he’d first encountered Hirondelle, but when, after spending several nights there, the city did not reappear, he expanded his search to cover the surrounding areas. More weeks passed, more fruitless searches...The familiar ache of despair grew within him as he stared at his well-worn map. “Was that my only chance? Will I never see that place again?” He whispered his words to the desert air, and though he didn’t know it, something was listening.... And that night, as the sky shone with a million stars, Belvedere heard that fluttering, saw the swallows crisscrossing the sky. Hope stirred within him a little, but could not completely chase away the despair. He waited, nearly breathless, as the city again rose around him in splendor. This time, though, he did not barrel excitedly down the streets. He walked carefully, almost solemnly, paying attention to the graceful lines of the buildings, the colors of the murals, even the way the phantom light played over everything. He wanted to hold everything in his mind, because if the city faded and he never saw it again... “Memory is all I’ll have,” he found himself sighing. He spoke again to the empty air— —but this time, to his great surprise, there was an audible reply. “Sometimes, traveler, memory is enough.” It was a quiet voice, but it spoke with a conviction that seemed to make the city shiver. Belvedere looked around in surprise. A small flock of swallows flitted across the street before him. Their flickering shadows coalesced into a dragon’s shape: Much smaller than Belvedere, but with long and graceful wings...and the glittering lines tracing across her scales marked her as a member of elfkind. “Are you perhaps...one who dwelled in this city?” “You know me, traveler. You came looking for me.” The quiet voice rang out, and once again the buildings shimmered. The light within them brightened as the dragoness spoke— “I am the spirit of the city, given a soul by her people, words by their own music and voices. I am Hirondelle, City of Swallows, made by the elves of the sea.” “I searched for you,” Belvedere breathed. He couldn’t quite keep a plaintive note from his voice. “It took so long....Why was it so difficult to find you?” “I am on a search of my own,” Hirondelle sighed. Her wings didn’t move, yet she glided down the street. Belvedere followed close behind. “In the long-ago times, this city was happy....I was happy. My heart was full, full of people who cared and laughed and sang. I basked in the coolness of the sea and dreamed in the light of the sun and the stars. “Then the world turned, as it must, but this time, it took the sea away.” The city, briefly, seemed to darken. “My people went with it. I could not follow them then—it took me many years to harness the magic they had left behind, the power of flight. By then, they were long gone. Perhaps they have left this desert...but I cannot go beyond its borders. So I search.” Her smile was faint and melancholy. “I await the day my streets are once again filled with laughter and with joy.” Belvedere looked around the city. It was beautiful...but it was empty. He thought of how vibrant it must have been in its heyday, and his heart ached for what it had lost. “You appear to travelers sometimes,” he began gently, “like me. What is the reason for that?” “I am a city,” Hirondelle reminded him. She raised her head. “A city shelters. I have not abandoned that purpose.” “There are many other people in this land. They are not elves, but they need shelter, too.” And the spirit of the city smiled back, a warm and gentle smile. “That is true. They who made me wove spells into my walls, so that I would be hidden from those who were not elf-born. But that was many years ago, and the walls, and the magic within them, have worn down. I do not mind this so much. Many of the travelers in this land are equally lost, equally in need of aid. Having these souls to care for, even if it is only for one night, eases my loss.” And, Belvedere realized, that was what moved her to reveal herself to travelers: the sense of loss and hopelessness—the deepest desolation. She understood that emptiness, and she yearned to fill that void, even if those she aided could not fill hers.... Only one night. He stopped, considering those words. “I searched for you,” he repeated, “again and again. Must you go away when the sun rises?” “I was not made to withstand the heat of the sun, the open air. It is safer for me to settle down at night. Do you require shelter so often, traveler?” “No. Only...I should like to see you again. To speak with you, to learn more from you.” And even without peering into his heart, Hirondelle understood the desolation in his soul. It was the desolation that had spurred him to reach out to strangers, to study hundreds of stories, to travel the desert scores of times over. To find this city. To find her. And something in her was moved, and she found herself smiling at this earnest architect. Hope bloomed within him again, a rare and precious flower in the desolation of the desert. “I must go away at sunrise,” she said gently, “but perhaps, over time, I will grow stronger. And even if I do not, I will remember your spirit and gladly shelter you again. What is your name, traveler?” The Imperial smiled back. Politely, he pulled back his veil so that she could look full into his golden eyes. “My name is Belvedere, and I am an architect of Light.” |
I N V E N T O R Y
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