Mimosa
(#66742539)
They danced through the day and into the night
Familiar
Maren Wavesinger
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
27.53 m
Wingspan
18.21 m
Weight
6360.09 kg
Genetics
Gold
Starmap
Starmap
Gold
Constellation
Constellation
Grape
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Imperial
Max Level
STR
7
AGI
30
DEF
11
QCK
51
INT
100
VIT
30
MND
11
Biography
| __._ |
 Darkness was his bane, darkness was what made him shiver and shake. In the corners and cracks filled with inky shadows, nightmares festered and terrors bloomed. He wasn’t even sure when this thought had started to take hold, to dig its roots deep into his brain. One moment he was as fine as one could be, trapped in their own head, the next he was shaking, crying soundlessly because he was left once more along in the dark. The mines, he remembered the mines underneath the Empire, the taste of crushed metal and depleted soil, the creak of wooden support beams and the rattle of the beast’s chains, its moans and groans, two dissonance voices bleeding into each other, old and young, always gasping a name. He was pretty, scarless but with potential. Just how the dollmaker liked his dolls. And so much potential, about to unravel, perfect to be mended and morphed into the shape of someone else’s liking. He was kept in the dark, literal and metaphorical, for so long, next to the groans of a beast and the cries of the new ones. He took them under his wing, children all of them but he was the oldest, the most mature one. He took them under his wing and this gained him nothing but trouble. Just as darkness started to wake fear, the scent of blood injected fresh horror into his veins, ice cold and leaden, because it meant another one gone, fed to the beast by their dollmaker. Before this, he didn’t even think twice about the word Doll. Four letters and a simple sound, what more was there? A lot more, that was the answer. Within the Empire, Dolls had a double meaning, in the Empire, a doll had a heartbeat and a pulse, they were made out of soft skin and living flesh. He found it out on his own skin, first hand experiences, a man came with the Dollmaker, walked up and down the row of miserable children and stopped in front of him. Back then, his eyes had still held the gleam of a person. Back then, the surface of his tongue had been smooth and unmarred. No more. He was taken away from the chain of miserable, lost ones just as words and magic took the gleam from his eyes, left a seal on his tongue that dulled everything down to a drag. Deeper and deeper into his own head he was pushed, until he could barely feel his own body anymore. Little more than an afterthought, he watched through his own, dulled eyes how his body moved, walked, talked. The touch of another could barely reach him, a mere whisper as he clung on to dear life, scratching at the walls that kept him disconnected from his own flesh and bones. How much time had passed? He didn’t remember it at all, after the first man, many other faces followed, a blur of color and noise bleeding into the next and his body simply obeyed the spoken word. Reached around, some liked to hurt him - the pain never registered fully - while others prefered to play with him - like children with their favorite toy. And onto the next he was pushed when they grew bored, poor, annoyed with their little Doll. One thing that connected it all, through pain and misery and depression, was darkness. It grew to be a very stand in for misery, the synonym by sight, when words had failed to grasp the meaning of it all. Back and forth, onwards, until he finally reached the end of it all, a kind one broke the seal and as parts of the scars on his tongue faded, he was drowned in the sudden clarity of it all. Noise and sight, sensations raging wildly and breaking his composure down until nothing was left, until all he could do was wail like a lost child. His body, once so disconnected and distant, suddenly felt too small, too big, just right, he was back in control but what to do now? Kindness was gone, dead and buried and he ran with the little he had been given, always following the light. He avoided the District of Dust, ended up in Sides of Coin by mere coincidence, found by a knight on his way back to camp. The Knight had any and every right to chase him off, just another snivelling beggar grovelling for some spare coins, instead he gave shelter and food to the former Doll. What happened, he could not remember. Only that he was dead afraid of the Knight after the initial gratitude had worn off, after the shop of sweets he now owned had taken off. The man smelled of blood and in his hair, Mimosa could see shades of darkness. Too soon, the quiet in the home made him nervous, it was just like that again, like being trapped within the ivory enclosure of his own skull. So the Knight - Nicolai - brought home a young boy, big eyed, fair skinned Sasha. And the darkness faded away, the scent of blood was replaced by sweets and soap, by flowers and silken bedsheets. Mimosa didn’t know why he was afraid before. The shade of Nicolai’s hair didn’t bother him anymore, it didn’t pull forth new nightmares. Sasha’s lithe figure in the morning no longer woke memories of crying children and rusted chains. Something had shifted, invisible yet so significant, towards an end goal that Mimosa was scared to name. It started with a string of lovely words and escalated to a stolen kiss, behind the shelves in his own shop, next to candy and cake. What began with a shared giggle, morphed into falling backwards, landing soft and soundly between pillows. And within Mimosa’s home, there no longer was quiet darkness. 
| ___ |
code & assets by archaic #19153
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