Adeera
(#65938030)
Level 25 Guardian
Familiar
Umberhorn Qiriq
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Fire.
Female Guardian
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
13.34 m
Wingspan
18.52 m
Weight
11283.1 kg
Genetics
Midnight
Jaguar
Jaguar
Shadow
Spinner
Spinner
Fire
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Guardian
Max Level
STR
104
AGI
23
DEF
11
QCK
50
INT
5
VIT
25
MND
11
Lineage
Biography
| __._ |
 Look at her, who does she think she is? - Who is she anyways? Yes, who was she to begin with? Only a child of a man that knew warfare and found his peace in hard work. Only a daughter of a mother that died during her birth. A girl too big, too bulky, too large in frame for the dainty girls of upper classes. A simple minded one, sweet and with a spine of iron. So who was she? Easy. You are the apple of my eye. Her father would call her that often. The apple of his eye, his wildflower. He loved her dearly, dear enough that he gave up his meek living of tending a poor village’s flowers and herbs and crops, in favor of giving her just a little bit more. Across the black, ashen desert he moved, away from the serenity and isolation of their village. It was hard for him, took a toll. That was obvious, he cowered in the shadows of the spires and towers, of mansions and the lashing of voices with their tone sharp and acidic. Such a clumsy one, that one. Like father, like daughter. Wagging tongues were not kind within this Empire, despite her father’s attempts. He worked more now, claws stained with earth and dust as he dug and planted and took care of every garden within the Veiled district. She was always curious why it was called Veiled Gardens, why, when everything could be seen, no sign of fog or mist or anything remotely close to a veil? Asking her father, he smiled, a thin and tired one that never matched the pained expression of his eyes. It was strange, how he seemed to know his way around the Empire far too well. Even in the first week, he knew the winding pathways, steered her away from the twisting, dark alleyways. Don’t go there, he would say. There’s nothing but dust at the end. He also made it a point to avoid Bared Fangs or Open Secrets. Isn’t that --? - Hush, it is him! Don’t look at him, don’t speak to him! It was sad, really, because Maryam liked Bared Fangs. She liked the warriors in their armor and with their gleaming swords. The Knights stood for a good thing, she thought. And when she talked to her father about this, she expected him to smile and pat her head, tell her that joining their ranks would be a great idea. It would be fitting. Far the opposite was the case, he stared, he became loud, for the first time in her life. Never before had he raised his voice against her, the harsh bellow of his tone changed from soft mannered, gentle hearted to the harshness, hard tone of a commander in charge, someone that was used to navigate soldiers in the middle of battle. And things dawned on her then. The talk behind her and her father’s back. The respect and fear her father was met with upon entering a room. The knowledge of the city’s layout despite never having been there before, that was what he claimed at least. Scars and old wounds. Scattered all over his body and in the manner how he dug and dug, buried himself in dirt and soil, everything made sense. She felt guilt bloom in her chest, her heart hurt. She had taken everything from him and yet he kept smiling at her like she was his greatest treasure. Her mother died because of her. His home, gone because she wanted to see the big cities and empires of this World. And even now, she was pulling towards an occupation that had brought him only distant pain. My heart hurts so much. I can feel it in my bones. - It is the want of a charge. The cross our kind has to bear. Her heart, this bleeding, burning thing, it grew worse and worse. When had it started? She could barely remember. No, that was a lie. She remembered clearly. It all started with a melody, carried towards her from an open window, past fluttering, silken curtains, curling downwards like an elegant ribbon of invisible fabric. Seeping in her ears and mind and heart like warm honey. She and her father had been planting daisies, all over this garden. It was weird, in the Undying Empire, eternal night ruled, starry and glossy silver. Yet over this home, a sheen of golden sunlight seemed to rest. No sight of the dark purple roses with their dagger sharp, black thorns, only daisies, sunny smiling, petaled heads bobbing in a gentle breeze. What is this vile person doing here, especially with that brat? -ssssh, talk quieter, you don’t want to anger him, do you? It was not hard to find out that this home was special. If the daisies and the sunlight weren’t a hint enough, the visits of the star speckled entity were. Few could say they saw the Emperor up close, reclusive as he had grown, in this home he appeared almost careless, warmer, softer, laughing and chatting away with not a care in the mind. Ironically enough, Maryam was less interested in the Emperor and far more interested in the inhabitant of the home. And her heart, this hurting, burning, bleeding thing stubbornly insisted on pulling her ever closer. Meeting the Lord of the manor, Maryam was pleasantly surprised, young, younger than her he was. And then here was his smile, it made her taste sunshine and honey and something comforting. Between the music and his smiles, she found herself growing shy, for the first time, because of the difference between them. And then there was her father, with his secrets and his past and his wariness towards the Undying family, to which the Lordling counted as well. Yet, despite his thoughts and his worries, he stilled his hand, kept out of this whole affair. Getting closer to him, on the other hand, was a far more difficult affair. Servants were not allowed to freely interact with Nobility, not to mention Royalty. Sweet as Elliott was, he made her squirm in place, scrutinizing glares aimed at her, daring, dirty. To cross this invisible line. Things became more fluid, greyer, softer as Maryam laid down the mantle of her father's little helper. They became even more so, when she donned armor and banners with his symbols, his colors on her skin, despite being in training only. Bold in her declaration of loyalty, she silenced nay-sayers and woke the hounds of gossip. Ah, your harp’s string is broken. -I know, it’s been like that for a while. A shame, my grandfather gave it to me. Allow me… Whenever she was with Elliott, the burn in her chest soothed over, subdued and vanished into nothingness. Mind calm and heart at peace, she felt at home. As if things could turn out well. As if the past would remain there. In the past. I heard the little lord had a new toy to play with. - I don't know, from what I saw, they looked so in love. 
| ___ |
code & assets by archaic #19153
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