Morrow

"you may not have chosen your tertiary gene color, but it's unique to you. wear it proud!"

NOTE TO FUTURE SELF 1/22/24: he/she->he/him so go through the old lore and change pronouns!


Contrary to popular belief, Morrow wasn't a mean dragon by nature.

But when a young dragon is given too much power and influence within her Clan, when that young dragon once strove to be recognized by her busy, often-distant mother but eventually gave up with resentment flickering in her heart like a slow-dying fire... unchecked and unheeded, that young dragon will grow up bitter, prideful, and waiting for the moment to show everyone that they were wrong.

Cunning Morrow, whose twin died during a centaur attack.. in that much chaos and confusion, no one would hear a little Mirror shriek. Belladonna's hatchlings were struck by more tragedy than most, but Belladonna's (then-)Second was guarding the dragonets.. Iracema swore on his life that no centaur got past him, so how did little Lapis end up with her throat torn out?

Morrow had blocked out most of that horrible day, but she still remembered the screaming, how Lapis had watched her with fearful, pain-crazed eyes as her blood stained the stone floor. So much blood- her dreams were full of it for moons.

"How could you let this happen?!" Belladonna roared, pacing back and forth. It was the first sound she'd made since the horrible, anguished howl when she'd first seen Lapis' body.

Chance had his face turned away from the carnage, shaking slightly. He had his wing curled protectively around Morrow, but her eyes were on her mother.

Iracema stood unmoving, his face inscrutable. Belladonna stormed into his personal space, hissing, and he finally said, "I do not know. No centaur got past me."

Belladonna whipped her head around towards Gildie, who had been staring at Lapis' body with undisguised horror.

"Is he telling the truth?"

"It's.." The Skydancer pressed her claws to her forehead in frustration, antennae twitching wildly. "I can't tell," she said miserably after a long moment. "There's too much still going on from the battle, I'm sorry, I can't."

She reached out for Belladonna with her wing, but the distraught Mirror shook her off and advanced upon Iracema once more.

"Liar," Belladonna snarled.

"I swear it upon my life and upon my honor," Iracema said firmly.

"The honor of an assassin isn't worth much," Belladonna hissed, and Iracema bared his teeth.

"I swear it upon my Charge, then."

"Your Charge? The one you've kept secret from everyone, including-"

Morrow whimpered.

Belladonna's anger visibly drained out of her, leaving just a heartbroken mother- no trace of the warrior she had been mere minutes ago. She stumbled over to her daughter's body and gently closed her eyes, nudging her gently until she looked like she was just asleep.

Iracema was still bristling, but Gildie jerked her head towards the mouth of the cave and the huge Guardian conceded wordlessly, stalking outside.

Gildie paused for another moment, then left as well. Her wings were visible against the light as she stood guard outside the entrance.

Belladonna gently folded her wing across Chance's back and gathered her surviving daughter into her arms.

"I'll keep you safe," she promised. "I swear it. Nothing like this will ever happen again."

(Iracema was demoted a few days later, and replaced by a secretive but loyal Nocturne named Wraith.)

Odd Morrow, who barely speaks to anyone outside the strange Pearlcatcher, the cold Imperial, and the cheerful traveler's son- how did they get mixed up in all of this? Why haven't they been scared off yet?

Weaver and Whisper and Crius, her friends since hatching and to the grave. She loved them and they loved her, exploring and wandering and Weaver screaming, unending and terrible- Whisper writhing on the ground, contorting in ways no dragon should be able to do- Crius pressed into a corner, terrified, Morrow wordless for days at the horror of it-

I heard she killed her twin.

I heard she was born without a heart.

I heard she's so ruthless even her mother is afraid of her.

Cold Morrow, slithering like a cobra through the shadows-

Morrow stepped silently out from behind the tree and bared her teeth in a smile. "Boo."

Jasper whipped around with an undignified shriek, and Kirbie froze like a statue.

"What are you doing here?" Jasper asked once he regained control over his body.

"What, am I not allowed to talk to my Clanmates?" Morrow asked, deliberately drawing out the final word so it sounded like she meant to say subjects. "I should have thought you would be happy to talk to Belladonna's daughter, considering how everything you've said in Council meetings lately has drawn fire? Who knows, maybe I could offer some insight into how to make her listen to you. Shame you won't get the opportunity, though."

She left Jasper sputtering and taken aback, turning towards Kirbie and using a trick straight out of the Pearlcatcher's book.

"And Kirbie!"

Morrow looked her up and down, noting the new jewelry and fine robes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jasper flee towards his den- good. At least he knew when he was beaten.

"Looking flashy as ever. I see you haven't gotten past the notion that all that gold will mask your black heart. Did you even gild your pearl? How tacky of you. And that mantle? When we all know you struggle with even the most basic Wind magic? For shame, aunt. I used to look up to you, but the notion is just embarrassing now."

Kirbie stood frozen, the only sign of her outrage her flicking tail and the death in her pale green eyes.

"And that business with your daughter- oh, that was quite rude of me! I should specify, considering how many of your children you've failed."

Kirbie's courtly, poised mask slid another inch as Morrow continued.

"I meant the daughter whose father you manipulated and then begged to take you back, the daughter who you tried to groom to become a shadow of yourself but never had quite the ambition for it, the daughter who you abused and then disowned when she didn't live up to your expectations."

"I think you're confusing me with another mother figure in your life," Kirbie crooned, and bullseye.

Morrow was taken aback for all of a heartbeat, but it was enough for the Pearlcatcher to smell blood in the water.

"Belladonna considers you a failure," Kirbie purred, "and all of us know it."

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Morrow spat, desperate to end the conversation before it went any further. "Your position on the Council is tenuous enough as is, first dragging your personal life into official business and then making a complete disaster of that ambassador job with the Zephyrian messenger-"

"That's enough about me, niece," Kirbie said in a low voice. "I may not be as grand as I once was, but I still am one of Belladonna's most influential advisors."

"You're nothing but a has-been, a-"

"That is enough," Kirbie snarled. It was the first time she'd raised her voice in the conversation, and Morrow flinched despite herself. "I outrank you. I am more powerful than you could ever dream of being. I hold more sway than almost the entire Council, and everyone in this Clan knows it."

"She wants to get rid of you," Morrow said, her voice pitching upwards as she began to lose her composure, "If you try to banish me you'll be shot down immediately and laughed out of the meeting, you can't-"

"And how many in the Clan would agree with me?" Kirbie had the upper hand now and they both knew it. "How many in our Clan despise you and want you gone? They all talk, you know, and I've remained neutral until now, but if you step out of line I'll cast my lot and you'll be lucky if you leave the Strand alive."

Morrow flattened her crests, looking around desperately for Whisper, Weaver, Crius, anyone to save her. If she left, Kirbie would follow her- she wouldn't leave Morrow alone until she'd said her piece, not to mention how weak she would look if she fled with her tail between her legs. If she attacked Kirbie- and oh, how she wanted to- the Pearlcatcher would find a way to play the victim no matter what Morrow said.

"Stop," she said desperately.

"They blame you for your twin's death," Kirbie continued, and no no no not this again she couldn't talk about this she couldn't-

Morrow was five seconds away from breaking down when a cool voice said, "Excuse me."

Morrow didn't turn right away, using the brief respite to try and wrangle her emotions back in check, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Kirbie's face go from annoyed to shocked to angry. Angry as Morrow had ever seen her be before. That got her attention, and she lifted her head to face the newcomer.

It was Hecate.

The Pearlcatcher looked nothing like her mother- a dark, murky reflection if anything. Sure, the pattern and coloring of her wings was similar, but she clearly took after her father, looking as if she belonged in the Shrieking Wilds. What really set her aside from Kirbie, however, was her expression and the way she held herself. Kirbie was always as poised as a gilded statue, every movement and microexpression calculated to get exactly what she wanted. Hecate's bearing was softer, open, more suited to curling up with a book when it rained than verbally eviscerating anyone who argued with her. Not that Morrow envied her or anything. Her emotions were given freely instead of sharpened into barbs, her eyes soft and kind even with the steel in her spine as she faced her mother.

This was a dragon that had not been tainted by her mother's poison. Morrow wished she could say the same.

"Might I have a word, Morrow?" Hecate asked pleasantly, dismissing her mother entirely.

It took Morrow a few moments to find the words to reply, but her voice was miraculously steady when she answered, "You may."

"Hecate," Kirbie hissed, and there was so much poison dripping from the word that Morrow was surprised she didn't choke on it. Hecate's expression was completely unruffled as she smiled beatifically in response and found Morrow's eyes, tilting her head in a silent inquiry.

Morrow was moving before she could think of the consequences of leaving Kirbie behind.

awakened: val, sunspot clouddancer / valii, clouddancer / witiko, pronghorn hunter / vengeance, infestation hound / mariyn, deadwood strangler
@Quilava2010


The small Fae tilts her head. "Well, I'm not much of a protective dragon, but definitely my friends."

Before going more in-depth in her answer, she studies the armored Guardian who asked the question. It is clear to her that she's still upset about the question the Veilspun asked, though Morrow didn't hear it. Something about losing a home? Morrow would have had a very different response- she'd be happy to burn Revenant to the ground and start over- but it's clear that this Guardian thinks otherwise.

Right. The question. "Yeah. My friends are worth protecting, and I s'pose some of my siblings, too. Maybe a few of my other clanmates- but really, I'm only close to- what, five or six dragons? I'm not a huge fan of my Clan, really, so I wouldn't mind starting over- as long as the dragons I cared about were safe."
She picks at the embroidery of her tunic as she considers the question further. "But aside from dragons, there are lots of places to protect. I've traveled a lot, see, and the many o' the places I've seen are beautiful. So the natural world should be protected, too."
Morrow shrugs. "That's all I've got for you, I'm afraid."
She catches the arm of a passerby, forcing them to stop and focus on her. "You look like you've got a tale or two. Tell me a good one and I'll pay for your drink, ey?"
After looking the startled dragon over, she asks, "Say, how'd you get those scars?"