labhazard » Lair » Larkspur

Larkspur

(#66958614)

Clandragon

Familiar

Frosted Pocketmouse

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

1.16 m

Wingspan

1.2 m

Weight

0.95 kg

Genetics

Abyss
Web (Veilspun)

Hatchday

Jan 28, 2021
(3 years)

Breed

Adult
Veilspun

Eye Type

Ice
Common

Level 1 Veilspun

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

FANTASTIC art by Flitt! ^

Loverboy. He's got a soft heart for Hellebore, and a snarky word for most anyone else.

A sarcastic veilspun, who previously was a nobleman in the high society of the Icefields, to the extent that it has one, made up of high-ranking guards and generals, merchants rich from exporting or refining the Icefield's natural resources, and ambassadors from other Flights visiting to make nice with the Icewarden.

Larkspur was born into this small stratus of Ice society, and could never really enjoy it--the pride that was widely taken in capturing and holding creatures, monsters, or artifacts made him uncomfortable. He'd rather they just let the world move in its own ways, rather than locking it down in rigid order.

He fell back on flippant remarks and excused himself early more often then not, torn between not wanting to get his family in trouble, and expressing his disgust for the values held--or at least, the ones perfomed--by those trying to curry favor with the Icewarden.

During the yearly Crystalline Gala, the largest celebration of which was held in a massive frozen cathedral, Larkspur slipped away to clear his head with a walk, and found himself face to face with another veilspun. Except -- no, she wasn't. She was all wrong, her mane clinging to her body in loops, her limbs long and strangely bent. There was a writhing sheen to her whole body like oil, as though she had surface tension of all things.

Just being near her set Larkspur's scales on edge. "You're shade," he hissed in a panic, glancing over his shoulder towards the cathedral that he knew was filled with gaolers of all orders, who would jump at the chance to capture a Shade at the Gala and become the hero.

"Smart," hissed the Shade, though the sound didn't seem to be coming from her mouth, just all of her--and in fact, Larkspur realized with a chill, she barely had one at all, just a rift in her face lined with strands of the same dark, iridescent substance the rest of her was composed of.

Larkspur stood in the snow, frozen with indecision. But she wasn't attacking him, like the mindless, seething monster she should have been, she seemed all alone, she seemed . . . like she was making a joke?

"Okay," Larkspur said, glancing over his shoulder at the party again. "You need to get out of here. You're f*cked if they find you near the Gala--or, anywhere really." He started off into the tundra, and, somewhat surprisingly, the Shade followed without comment.

"What are you even doing here?"

". . . looking."

"For?"

"Rest." Larkspur glanced back at her--she moved wrong, too, like some kind of eel or insect. He realized that the locks of her "mane" were acting as limbs, stretching away from her to pull her forwards alongside her actual legs.

She sounded tired. Like maybe she didn't care if she was captured, as long as she could lie down. Larkspur winced at the thought. God, if the Fortress was locking up people like her, then the Icewarden really was evil. But, focus on the issue at hand, Lark.

"Okay, well, let's get you to the tree line at least. You'll stick out less in the pine forest, you can probably crash there. I-I don't know what else I can do for you, I mean, my parents would report you in a heartbeat."

"Good enough." murmured the Shade. And then, after a beat of silence. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. Honestly, commiting treason is way less stressful than spending all night talking to gaolers. I swear those guys have nothing to talk about but work."

It's a long walk to the pines. Larkspur tries to keep the conversation up so he can remind himself that, if questioned, he can say he thought he was talking to a dragon. It's a sneaky motive for a conversation, he knows. But it fades, because soon he's genuinely invested.

She calls herself Hellebore. She'd lived in the sea for ages, but had the bad luck to slither up into the Icefields when she got bored of the ocean. She'd once been part of a larger fragment of the Shade living in the sea, but was separated early in the Icewarden's mass capturing, when he sent enchanted ships to trawl the oceans for Shade.

Hellebore was split painfully from the rest of the fragment, and escaped through a hole in the net alone.

When the pair reach the pines, Hellebore collapses a few meters in. It's only when they're no longer talking that Larkspur realizes how fatigued he is, too. The thought of walking all the way back to the Gala, explaining his absence, and spending the night socializing makes him want to collapse with her.

So he does, the two of them flopped against the same tree, because f*ck it, all the propaganda he's been fed about his home has turned out to be bullsh*t, so maybe he'll live in a tree now.

When they wake up, they walk further into the woods. Hellebore doesn't ask why he's still around.

The Arctic Heart finds them, offers them protection, and of course they accept. Larkspur's new family and Hellebore's new resting place are warm and kind, and never make him go to parties.

Bududbudubud This guy is going to see the world Bududududububdu

Named him for his beautiful blue flowers! Larkspurs aren't quite the type he's growing, but it's a handsome name for a handsome dragon :]

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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Larkspur to the service of the Icewarden will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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