sockmonkeygerald » Hibernal Den » Wist

Wist

(#70471779)

Level 20 Pearlcatcher

EyesOnly

All-Seeing Eye

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.11 m

Wingspan

5.56 m

Weight

436.64 kg

Genetics

Midnight
Iridescent

Midnight
Shimmer

Shadow
Gembond

Hatchday

Jun 27, 2021
(2 years)

Breed

Adult
Pearlcatcher

Eye Type

Light
Common

Level 20 Pearlcatcher

EXP: 811 / 111687

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Dread
Terror

Offspring

none

Biography

Wist

There's a disconnect in how she perceives the world compared to how other beings do—always feeling first the magic of a thing before recognition of species or sapience or individual, but that's alright. Ishum says 'normal' is an agglomeration that only exists because of all the endless disparity in all the myriad people who make up societies. She can feel the magic without wanting to taste it, she can be different just as everything on the planet is, she can write her own story.

(A gleam on each claw, color on each wing, life on her head and light on her tail—they're not constraints but reminders, here are the bounds of the shape she lives in. Soft fabrics, thick and warm cool and smooth, comfortable atop her skin as she is underneath—this is what's self.)

Growing up with a guardian like Ishmael she can't help but see stories permeate reality, even if her interest as she's grown has narrowed into true stories, histories, particularly of the land she was born to.

She focuses on the periods with the art she finds prettiest, paints her favorite pieces on her wings as visual story and memory ritual and interest incitement for nonacademics. She can talk to anyone without worrying about social acceptance or focusing too much on their magic when it's answering questions about what she's depicting.

(Ishum approves and supports her career choice fully—he doesn't see any real difference between true stories and myths, even though he understands the distinction, in a way that makes sense coming from him but she's never been able to explain secondhand.)

Remy gave her a Pillow of Friendship. She doesn't even know what for. How can she find out? Why—no, that's not what's important. She'll just... be a friend. Be the best friend she knows how to be (and hopefully learn quickly how to get better), from now on, because. friends don't count... things. between friends... right?

Winning Entry by sockmonkeygerald:

Daily Theme: 10 - The Stranger
Applicable CW & Additional Notes: ~~creative problem-solving~~

***

Nibs and the archivist had found the workers. More workers than before, which should mean the work went faster. But the workers didn't help because they were fake dragons. They distracted the real dragons. Take out the fake dragons so the real dragons would get back to work.

Nibs flitted to the next dragon's muzzle and, since Nibs' tail hurt from thwacking, bit a nostril. The dragon yelped. That was a real one. Nibs scrawled a large pink splotch on their scales with chalk from the left-side pouch.

The next dragon Nibs landed on didn't flinch. Nibs sang. Three dragons nearby shoved things over their ears. Not the one Nibs sat on. Nibs scrawled across the fake dragon's blank eye crease with blue chalk from the right-side pouch and flitted to the next dragon.

A pink-marked dragon that had finally gotten back to work bumped into someone and apologized. The bumped-into dragon didn't respond. Or move. The pink-marked dragon peered at the face and jumped away. Nibs flitted over to mark the fake dragon.

Nibs landed on fake scales marked with pink chalk.

...

Nibs landed on a dragon, flaring tired wings in front of their face. The dragon said "Please don't bite me." Nibs looped the rope around one of their horns, knotted it snugly, and flew on. Even though the rope had enough slack for the dragon to keep working they shuffled after Nibs as the new head of the line of dragions doing so. At least it was keeping the real dragons together until the fake dragons were taken out.

***********

***

@Saronai wrote:

Inky spectres, barely visible and entirely unnoticed slipped out of their prison the day the Great Library crumbled into ruins on one side. These wisps of The Shade, trapped together no longer, gathered from fragments in tainted tomes and artifacts. All of them strange, many dangerous, secreted into a warded archive by one Jurgen Lightner. Warded no longer.

Many appear to originate from The Ghostlight Ruins, others...well, no flight’s territory remains completely untouched by The Shade, does it?

Those who built their nests far too close to that secret archive paid the ultimate price, though no one found a trace of them in the aftermath. Only their eggs remained, infected by the fear-drenched fragments of shade, some more than others, perhaps. Either way, this invasive presence transformed all of them to their very core, resulting in one of the Shadeborn.

While these unlucky hatchlings are not contagious like those with a more shallow infection, they must feed it magic, and eventually their descent into madness is nearly assured. At that point, no matter how steadfast they were as guardians against The Shade, they may end up as agents spreading its fear and terror.

After the things masquerading as books were parceled out to be taken care of (Ishmael recommended destruction. Nibs said regretfully no more fire allowed near the library. Ish suggested a volcano. Nibs looked thoughtful), Nibs piled Hodge's book order into a high-sided square basket for transport while Ishmael made lunch of the luckless giant spider. But once he finished and looked around the fae was nowhere to be seen.

Ish went looking. Nibs hadn't said anything about planning to get home alone, and a lone tiny fae was snack size for quite a few creatures and Wanderin was a far haul away.

There were a lot of places a lone tiny fae could be without being evident. Ish glided over a close hatching ground, but all the little bodies that filled it were dark with no lighter hide among them.

Ish circled and frowned. The hatchlings were corralled as such fragile awkward things should be while so new to their limbs, but none of them were being cuddled. The pile of them had clustered together, fumbling over each other for warmth when there were more than enough adults around to do the job of providing it.

Ishmael swooped over to the only dragon who didn't seem apprehensive of the hatchlings, a burnished pearlcatcher with floral aesthetic, blowing a downdraft to clear himself room to land beside her. The pearlcatcher snatched up the hatchie under her to protect it with exasperated ease and flicked dirt at him with her rear claws in retaliation for the disrupting flurry. Ishmael grinned back.

"Is something wrong with the nests?"

"No," the pearlcatcher said, at the same time several other voices said, "Shadeborn." Ish folded his wings and listened, from the explanation of Shade fragments escaped from the library and missing parents and "We hoped, but..." to Yavie the pearlcatcher's acerbic opinion on shunning.

Ish looked at the squirm of foundlings and click-clucked his tongue through a series of random notes. A floppy-eared pearlcatcher foal with one horn turned its head in his direction and tried to crawl closer over the tail of a fellow that cheeped protest.

"Cursed," Ishmael mused, extending his neck to nose the little thing along in encouragement. "Doomed in the shell, are you? You don't know it."

The pearlie tumbled over its own wing and tangled in too many uncoordinated limbs trying to right itself. Ishmael helped it sort neck from legs from tail and regain its feet, overlarge wings half-spread and twitching for balance, and rubbed its cheek with his in approval.

"If you're willing to adopt one," Yavie began, "and especially socialize, they're not contagious—"

"Then a tragic fate might be averted? Fate is what is written, and we the ones who hold the pen."

Yavie hesitated. "...They will do best with therapy. Behaving like they're perfectly normal won't help—as much—as recognizing their challenges and helping them find solutions as they grow, they're not damaged but they are different—"

"But you have solutions?" A few successful tottering steps and the pearlie folded down with a sleepy sigh. Ishmael spread a wing over it. "So, tell me what to do and how. I'll put the pen in this one's hand."

~~~

Nibs appeared as Ish was redistributing the books in the basket into a better nest shape for his new ward. Somehow, the bedraggled fae looked even worse than before. Was that faint wisps of smoke rising?

"Is everything all right?" Then, remembering who he was talking to, he rephrased: "Any more problems that need fixing?"

"Fixed," Nibs sighed, inching claw-over-claw up the side of the basket, and flopped in beside the snoozing hatchling. The pearlie snuffled the new near-size heat source and dropped its chin atop Nibs' wing. Nibs' frill twitched, dropped, and was still. "Home."

Ishmael tucked the last book into place, gathered the handle lines fastened to each corner of the basket, and surged aloft with one powerful wingbeat. "On our way."

Bio template by @Saronai 2021
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Full list of credits at this post.

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Exalting Wist to the service of the Windsinger 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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