Austin

When did Austin meet the shade? In those rare moments when his thoughts drift from the task at hand, he rolls the question around in his untiring mind. Perhaps it was born in him? When thunder roared in his birth clan, some whispered that his tarot-reading father and his magical mother were the shade’s pawns, creatures that weren’t dragons so much as bundles of dark magic bound into physicality. Sometimes, Austin thought that he had met the shade on an especially windy night as a hatchling, when lightning struck sand not six feet away from him, solidifying it into chunks of gray glass.

Truly, it didn’t matter how he and the shade came into contact with one another. They were bound to each other by magic, forever inseparable. Austin should know; he’s tried to cleave the shade from his soul, yet his tech always sputtered in a shower of cyan sparks. Death, before he can reach the final step.

To manage the shade and its undesirable effects, Austin has turned himself into a living machine, a dragon strung with equal parts scales and copper. "A masterful patchwork of augments and mechanical prosthetics,” as he’d whisper to himself on especially lonely nights. A reassurance.

The wires that cascade down his neck drag magical energy from the environment and funnel it into the tubes that piece his body together. Within him, the shade is satiated with the sweet nectar of magic, and an “inertial serum” counters any shade-related ills. At least, most of the time.

Naturally, his quest for a perfect, shade-neutralizing machine led him to the strange aura of the Starfall Isles. Tireless, he’d spent weeks working with gadgets of his own invention and a crystal that a passing dragon pressed into his talons once he crossed the Plague/Arcane border. The latter was a strange thing, and an even stranger encounter; he hadn’t yet been acquainted with the eccentricities of Arcane dragons, having spent his childhood in the rigid workaholism that so describes Lightning denizens.

As Austin would discover, the crystal was the missing cog to his machine. When strapped to his chest, the red jewel connected to the arcing circuitry of the wires draped over his body. Its seemingly endless storage was inexplicable. Even Austin’s most finely tuned batteries fizzled with the amount of energy the wires drew in. And, of course, there was the question of the stranger. How had that mysterious dragon known his need? Where did they get such a powerful device?

Even with the machine fully functioning, Austin has come to expect… abnormalities.
Occasionally, a loose wire will misdirect energy, and he will be unable to sleep for days, twitchy and wide-eyed. He doesn’t mind that, always grateful for an excuse to fiddle around with his tech, but he does mind the way his fingers grow soft and bloody after hours upon hours of pressing them against hard tools, working them into cracks between metal plates.

Other times, the shade will decide it’s in a particularly hungry mood and drain Austin of his own energy. In those times, he finds a quiet, dark corner and curls up. His soul is quiet. His mind is blank. He feels nothing but an irrevocable emptiness that chuckles quietly at him. None are allowed to see him. There is great shame in these moments, for Austin.

Of course, these abnormalities have necessitated strict requirements for any clan looking to hire him, which has led to many raised eyebrows and “Sorry, but no”s, which has led to plenty of disappointments and long, sad nights… naturally, things Austin would never admit to.

Luckily, the Clan of the Starfall Watchers was desperate for a dragon intelligent (and crazy) enough to work with the delicate magic of their lair. Guoteng calmly explained to Austin that a single loose plug could send any one of the floating floors crashing down the tower, splintering glass and dragon bones alike. The magical fallout, Guoteng said, would not only wipe out every Starfall Watcher, but likely the thousands of dragons in the surrounding clans.

Austin’s only request was that no one bother him while he works, even if he’s absent for days. Guoteng, gracious as always, agreed.

Now, Austin spends his time poking and prodding at the machinations of the Starfall. The imminent doom of his work doesn’t bother him; the dragons do. Constant questions, constant concerns. “What are you doing? Why? Are you sure it’s safe?”

While annoying, Austin has prepared answers to lay at the feet of those dragons, crisp, all the ugly wrinkles pressed out. Like his machines, his responses are carefully tuned for maximum efficiency. Just enough to satisfy, not enough to allow for further questions. Perfect. “Wiring some things. To lower the drag on this floor. Safe as your hatching nest.”

It’s the other questions that bother him. “What’s that machine? Why do you work all the time?”

And then, of course, the dreaded, “Are you okay?”

There is no answer for these questions. No fine-tuned response. He has spent hours with rolls of parchment and quills in an attempt to scratch some words out, but nothing feels right. When he tries to spit out his clunky excuses, the walls of his throat pressed together. It’s all he could do to scare the dragon off with a flurry of cuss words he’s heard from the many mouths he’s met over the years.

Austin has never been good with dragons. The living machine strapped to his back separates his life from others as clearly as if there’s a wall between them. How can anyone understand the bizarre cycles of energy that punctuate his life? How can anyone understand that desire to impress with a perfect machine? How can they look him in the eyes and say, “Are you okay?”

No one can ever know that on quiet nights, Austin thinks nothing but, How did I meet the shade, this creature that has ruined me?



Credit to AwkwardAngel #226373

---

A scientist from the Shifting Expanse who came to Starfall for business, including but not limited to finetuning the machinations of their lair and studying the properties of arcane magic.

Appears aloof and distant, often deep in thought. Gifted with a quick mind, he is an innovative genious and an eloquent speaker, though easily flustered in unfamiliar -therefore uncalculated- situations. Very self-sufficient and confident in his work, while doing his best to maintain his dignity in things he doesn't excel at.

Not great with interpersonal relations. His standoffish nature and closed-off demeanor is intimidating, acting as a deterrent against social interactions. It doesn't bother him too much, as he usually doesn't wish to partake in them in the first place.

Deathly curious. Very easily fascinated by new knowledge and discoveries. Almost to the point of obsession.

Married to his work. Very fixated on big ideas, concepts and plans. Won't stop until all his projects are finished or until he drops dead, with the latter being more likely in his opinion. At this point, he lives on the dragon equivalent of coffee to cope with the exhaustion.

He struggles to understand emotional arguments. Often represses his emotions and hardly shows affection, not to mention he is afraid to do so. Too paranoid and alert to be letting his guard down.
Afraid of vulnerability and weakness

Might mimic emotion to get a point across. Case and point, outraged roars and a whole lexicon of swears to tell his brother off and make him leave his presence.

Notably characterized as "a masterful patchwork of augments and mechanical prosthetics". Only under extreme pressure will he open up about it:

He is slightly shade-touched. The machine has two functions. One, it's like a "lightning rod" that saps magic from his surroundings and feeds it to the shade so it doesn't drain him. Two, it pumps an "inertial serum" into him, as he calls it, that is meant to neutralize the shade within him to an extent.