Gaudia
(#72533933)
Level 25 Fae
Familiar
Charming Swan
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Energy: 46/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Fire.
Male Fae
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.67 m
Wingspan
1.5 m
Weight
2.11 kg
Genetics
Rust
Flaunt
Flaunt
Taupe
Patchwork
Patchwork
Dirt
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Fae
Max Level
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Biography
| __._ |
 My heartbeat is shallow still sometimes, as if it would falter and fail like it did once before. Some of that feeling must certainly be my own imagination; this is a new, different heart, one that has never failed and is yet strong. Still a part of me wonders how long this blessing, this second chance, will last. Perhaps I will fall apart like a stack of cards tomorrow, all my spare parts blown to the wind. Or I could live for several lifetimes, the magic binding my soul to this flesh long after the time of others has passed. An errant thought, I suppose. In the end, the only thing that will matter is whether I can achieve my purpose. Some things cannot be allowed to persist. Ironic, given my own situation, but nevertheless necessary. I vaguely remember that there were others that day, when I was born again, but I do not remember them well. Everything was blurry at first, as I readjusted to having eyes and ears, to experiencing the mortal world. Then, once I reacclimated, the remembrance of the Veil, the grey place beyond life but not quite death, had already begun to fade from my mind, as if the knowledge of it was forbidden by existence itself. Though those memories fade - and I am glad to forget them - I will never forget why I died. To die young, like I did, is often called a tragedy, a terrible accident, an unfortunate weaving of the tapestry we call fate. Fate. As if it were something that happens passively to those who do not act quickly enough to write their own stories. As if fate were something that generally brought happiness and joy, but it also brings unfair happenstance down on the undeserving. And that all that was something done neutrally, but some unknown party that has no stakes in the day-to-day lives of most people. Fate is something you write for yourself, whether that be by choosing your name and profession or simply by deciding to walk to the market instead of flying. I do not believe in coincidence. In my first life I was born to Nature, to a traditional clan that worshipped the Gladekeeper with fervent platitudes. The rules about our lives were always very strict; they were ingrained in every hatchling from the moment they were old enough to understand what was being asked of them. It was sacrilege to devote any time to anything other than the necessities of keeping the clan alive or worshiping our deity. Even the ways we went about those tasks were highly regulated, fanatical. But that was something I only saw for myself when an outsider came to our settlement. He was a Mirror, hide tan and red and bearing a standard with a sigil I had never seen before. I was excited at first, thinking him someone come to teach us new ways to appreciate the Gladekeeper and to honor her more effectively. But the adults were angry that he had come. They spoke badly of him, using words I had never heard before. They dared not refuse him welcome - it was one of the rules to accept strangers and provide them sustenance that we all might live and thrive and grow together - but they did so with poor grace. Some even began neglecting their duties to watch him or disparage him when they thought he could not hear. It was eye-opening. All my life I was told that that kind of behavior was appalling, to be avoided at any cost, and to give those emotions over love and respect. The elders said that outsiders knew no better than to do things the wrong way, and it was our duty to teach them and bring them to see the truth. I was told that to deviate from my devotions would bring down the wrath of the Gladekeeper; I was told that anything less than my utmost would be looked down upon and disdained. Yet here they were - elders, priests, and parents alike - all forsaking everything they had ever said and done for the sake of one stranger in our midst. I was not the only one who snuck out that night, outside the high walls of our encampment to the small tent and firepit where we knew the old Mirror had settled himself while he was in the area. We had all seen how our elders reacted, had seen the burning, absolute hatred and disgust in their eyes, and we wanted answers that they would not give. The old man was happy to answer whatever questions we had, speaking long into the night about a world we had never dreamed existed. If it was true - if anything could be true anymore - it meant that everything we had ever known was a lie. We all knew we should not have been there, that if we were ever found out there would be a price to pay, but I don't think any of us cared. I certainly did not, at least not in that moment. Sitting at that small fire and listening to the Mirror go on about life outside, about lands and things we had never even thought might exist, about the other deities and their power and areas of influence, about an entire world most of us would never see; it was the happiest moment of my life. It was wrong, and I loved it. That bravado did not last beyond the next morning. I got everyone back inside safely, back into our beds unnoticed, and I thought it was over. I had the audacity to think that would be the end of it; we would go back to normal for now, but we would secretly be planning a permanent escape to go and see the wonders about which we had learned for ourselves. How naïve. The whole lot of us were brought before the Council to be tried before lunch. Now, I can wonder who slipped up and said something. In the moment, I could only be horrified. All we had done was ask questions, but that was more than enough for them. We had rejected the will of the Gladekeeper and her grace, and were therefore no longer worthy to experience it. I did not understand how something I had taken such joy in could have been so wrong. I still do not. But I do know why they thought it was. The VeilKeeper never asked me why I wanted to return. Maybe it will be better this way, knowing I have not dragged someone else into my problems, even if he did give me the tools with which to solve them. I have waited, grown up as I could not before, grown powerful and learned as I never had the opportunity to do, become something that I might have never hoped to be. I have succeeded. Even though something about my existence feels indescribably wrong, I will live. For some, that might have been enough. To survive and flourish in spite of what happened. But not for me. Idied because someone else found that my joy was wrong. Now, they will die because I find that theirs is wrong. I do not claim to be a saint. I am thankful for this second chance, and I do intend to make the most of it, but I will not leave the sins of the past unpunished. Maybe that is wrong of me, but I will enjoy every last moment of finishing the story of my first life so I can be free to live my second one. 
| ___ |
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Exalting Gaudia to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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