Yinei

__________ Yinei Original #2155321

Yinei aber rare eyes #2381638

Cost: Primary - 62.5kt Secondary - 50kt Tertiary - 70kt Eye - 100kt Total - 282.5kt

** The first dragon I ever custom gened!! :D **

- Yinei is responsible for keeping track of dragon gene projects and determining next steps

Current Projects:

Genevieve

Resolution

Finished Dragons:

Me!

Vatrel

Dream

Still Deciding:

Ruz

Ripple

Alseides

Fara

The rope bridge before you creaks ominously in the wind, swaying gently to either side. It seems to pause just a touch too long before looming the other way -- eeeaaaaaarrk, accompanied by the chorus of rustling branches and skittering creatures, and several shallow breaths later: eeeaaaaaarrk back again. It's the only way across, here. The canopy is much too thick to fly, and the rest of the tree's limbs may not support your weight. Glancing down, it's hard to determine if you'll have a chance to catch yourself if you fall (wing or claw, either way) or simply tumble down every snapping branch until you meet the dirt.

But you must cross it, despite the trepidation. This is where they told you to go, when you said you didn't feel quite right in your skin. Too drab, or too much, or not enough feathers, whomever you confessed to uttered these words: "Go to the eastern side of the tree, high up in its boughs where the light is dappled and tricks your eyes, and cross the bridge. Enter the hut on the other side if you have the courage to change."

You, of course, are a mighty, fearsome, courageous dragon indeed. The bridge leeeeaaaaaans to either side with every step, but the ropes are sure and sturdy. The planks protest as you test your weight upon them, but hold true with only your quickened heartbeat in return. The wind gusts suddenly, sharply against the bridge, whipping you around as you boldly, courageously scramble to safety.

You tell yourself that the creaks behind you sound nothing like laughter.

Before you, the hut's door opens to a face slashed with a wide, sharp grin and a three-eyed gaze that seems to burrow underneath your skin.

"Welcome, dear," the dragon says, and sits you at the table beside her hearth. She shuffles about the somewhat cramped space, her two heads roving between the walls lined with cramped shelves and the cauldron spitting blue smoke up the chimney, occasionally taking ingredients from one and throwing it carelessly into the other. You take care not to get splashed.

"Are you the witch?" You ask, since that is what the others called her.

"I'm an artist, my dear," one head purrs. The other gives a low chuckle, eyeing you intently. It feels like a prickle against your scales. "I see potential and make it real. Force it into shape, if need be, don't you worry. Now..." She twists the other neck back around to face you, uncaring that the head it's attached to is now upside-down. With two mouths and five eyes and who knows how many teeth, she beckons, "How may I help you?"