Schattenfeuer » Lair » Naidas

Naidas

(#68618144)

Level 9 Skydancer

Familiar

Pisces

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.9 m

Wingspan

5.9 m

Weight

680.73 kg

Genetics

Ivory
Starmap

Buttercup
Alloy

Bronze
Glimmer

Hatchday

Apr 11, 2021
(3 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Shadow
Unusual

Level 9 Skydancer

EXP: 177 / 21526

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

__._

Naidas Aurum.
↠ The one that failed, the one that succeeded

"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall..."

Teeth grinding, the pressure never let of. Do not disappoint your father, don’t bring shame to your mother. Be strong, be fast, learn more. It was too much, in this house filled with dread and ice, the only beings that were close to happiness on an utmost basic level were the hounds. And of course he had heard the rumor floating through all of Veiled Gardens, the servants couldn’t stop whispering, muttering whenever his father’s back was turned.

How the Lord Aurum killed his former wife, only to replace her with the young, gorgeous doctor. How much truth was to the tale, he didn’t even dare to decipher. No, he learned far too soon that his father was a man that should not be crossed. And not even his distant brothers or sister could help him here, he was picked as the golden child, the heir to carry the golden crown. Should he not be willing, so - his father spoke with low rumbling voice and fatalistic words - will he be made willing. There are ways and there are methods, all he needed was an heir.

It was frightening, his family a disjointed, fractured beast with a monster at the helm and a maiden that willfully fed into the cruelness. Other than that, there was a ghost from the past, one moment there, the next swept up by a twin pair of darkened wings and a frail flower shielded under a dome of unknowing and innocence. But where was his own? Where was his own right for a simple, happy childhood, where was his innocence? Stolen from him, like his will, like his resistance.

An environment so free of love and affection, so devoid of any semblance of warmth should have, would have raised a feral monster, by all accounts, he should have become a heart of ice. Maybe that would have been better for him, for his health and his mind, broken as it was already, worse was yet to come.

What started as a mere dare among young, noble lads, half strong, not fully grown yet but no more children, provided the last nail in his coffin, the necklace of rope from which he would dance, kicking, choking, fading. Gallow’s Swallows within the Empire’s Capital was a half sunken district no one bothered to rebuilt. It housed the worst of mankind, it housed monsters and possibilities alike. If one had enough Dreams gilding their pocket, if they knew where to look, they could buy anything.

The house was freshly opened, rebuilt on charred ruins of its predecessor, the paint on the walls still vibrant and the curtains free from the scent of perfume and tea. They were four, all of them lanky, long limbed and awkward lads that talked a big game but had very little to back it up, dispersing and strolling down their own paths, he was left behind shy and nervous. Soft eyed and with his cheeks blushed and warm, he didn’t knew where to look first, words clogging up his throat but never leaving his tongue.

Help arrived with warm eyes and kind smiles, tall and heavy in frame, yet he felt safer now than even in his mother’s lap. Landon knew what he was doing, knew too much and seen everything vile and perverted that one could think off, yet he still held in him the spark of kindness. In between sheets of pale lavender and in the arms of a man he didn’t knew more off than his name, he caught a taste of what affection could be like.

How love would feel. Warmth clouding his mind, yet he asked, for permission, for more, for allowance. He was a Lord’s son, he was a client in an establishment that saw the client as king, yet acted too devoutly, too dependent on the whims of another. As if he was scared, a wrong move, even the hint of it and it would all disappear. One visit was not enough, now that he knew what love should feel like.

Coming back always filled him with the rush of excitement, with warmth, with wanton desire. And over time, a more tender, delicate feeling whose roots ran deeper than anything before, it had an iron grip around his fluttering heart, refusing to let go. Landon had him wrapped around his little finger, could have asked for anything, yet never did. Leaving bouquets of dahlias, of little things that he knew the older man would enjoy, slowly escalated. Hushed whispers, muttered against dark hair and into pillows, he dared to hope.

He dared to hope and he should have known it was wrong. Offering a way out, offering a place in his life, his heart, at his side, he was hopeful, bright eyed, shaky, smiled and blushed. Truly, he should have known better. Gentle words brought rejection and it didn’t matter that the blows were softened, it didn’t matter that Landon did the right thing, for him, for the lord’s son who was cracking under the father’s pressure. It didn’t stop the hurting, it didn’t stop the light from leaving his eyes. And the cold returned, ferociously eating away at the shattered remains. The unloved boy, stemming from a loveless family foolishly tried to find something, someone to give away his heart of ice. He laughed as he spun the rope, he cried as he tied the noose.

One day, Landon had said, you will find someone worthy of you.

His worth was up to debate, they argued and they battled over it and as he swung from his branch like overripe fruit, he thought of an eternal bed within the cold soil, to sleep away heartache and be safe from any more hurt. Dramatic, foolish. Exhausted.

Sister found him, father cut him down, mother tended to his body. The judgement had come to a conclusion and before the bruise around his neck had any chance of fading, he was whisked away. Locked and hidden, in the far flung summer home of the family, between slopes full with grapes and wine, to tend to the lands and not bring any more shame. Here, father had sneered with uncaring eyes, he could stay and rot away, here no one would have any expectations for him that he could disappoint.

In this empty, airy home, he sat. Waited. For something to happen. For someone to come for him. Dull eyed, empty smile, bandaged neck to hide the shame, the thing that set him free, he waited day in, day out.

And one day, he wasn’t anymore.

Landon
Doing the right thing must
have been so hard, hearing
the consequences would have
broken a weaker man. He had
no ties to him, he could have
written everything up as a sad
but unavailable mess. But no,
he came, he smiled, he cried.
He promised to stay. He stayed.

___

code & assets by archaic #19153

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