Weaver

"today is the perfect day to edit this dragon's bio."

awakened: lily, duskthicket bonepicker / lilyii, highreach bonepicker / luck, ghosthost viola / slinky, sludge sifter / myriad, fanfin noggle

weaver/morrow/whisper

Weaver, Morrow, Whisper.

It had always been the three of them, ever since they hatched- Whisper first, then Weaver, then Morrow.

Well- had almost always been the three of them. Whisper and Weaver both had memories of their parents whispering to them of great legacies and family heritage- Whisper was born to be a great warrior; Weaver was born to be a spy. Whisper was taught to fight, Weaver to listen- though both disregarded their grand legacies and only used those skills to their advantage. Tried to, anyway- because unfortunately, distancing themselves from their pasts was much harder than it seemed. Especially because Whisper had a few relatives in the Clan.

Even though one dragoness scorned her heritage to anyone that would listen and the other relatives kept to themselves, Weaver- her parents' child, her mind hissed as she snuck into the huge Gaoler's lair- saw her spar with her own shadow and tear apart letters with night-blue seals before Weaver could make out what they said, saw the quiet Nocturne stumble through a set of basic exercises and get so frustrated he threw down his training staff to go sulk.

Then came Crius- a day older than Whisper.

He was one of the humblest Pearlcatchers Weaver knew, and without a doubt the most interesting. He had stories- perhaps more than anyone in the Clan, or at least anyone willing to tell them. The elders had more, but they hated hatchlings as a general rule, and Crius's father, Atlas, had traveled for moons before Crius was even hatched, but he was nosy and fascinated by everyone, and much more fond of listening to stories than telling them.

But Crius was different. He wasn't afraid of Weaver's lies or Morrow's barbs or Whisper's silence. He ignored the rumors that surrounded their little trio even as hatchlings, and he ignored the suspicious looks that they got when they walked into a shop- Weaver silent as an owl's wingbeats and Morrow prowling like a snake and Whisper stalking grim behind them, and Crius bright and shining and leading them to the next adventure.



hmm idk if i like this bit its from like last year

They found familiars, too. Weaver only took care of bonepickers (her mother had loved them) until a haunted viola had decided that her wing ribbons were a sign of friendship; Whisper was drawn to brightly colored birds before she took a trip to the Volcanic Vents (which predictably went terribly) and found a manticore, of all things, and Morrow seemed determined to solely pick familiars much larger and deadlier than she was (Clouddancers were fine, but for spirits' sake, how did you even find that.. undead tree demon thing?), and Crius adopted a Coral Carpenter that he positively adored.