Caerulea

(#75464219)
The last daughter of a race time forgot...
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Scholar

Arcane Gryphon
Arcane Gryphon
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Energy: 50
out of
50
Arcane icon
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Obelisk
Male Obelisk
Coliseum team icon
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style

Apparel

Companion Comet
Celestial Attendant
Arcane Aura
Violet Flowerfall
Fanciful Casting
Gossamer Flame Candles
Enchanted Book Collection
Gold Glasses
Starseer's Emblem
Gossamer Flame Collar
Bewitching Bangles
Nebula Starsilk Wingdrapes
Glowing Purple Clawtips
Gossamer Flame Wing Ribbon
Mage's Nightshade Gloves

Skin

Scene

Scene: Moonbeam Aqueduct

Measurements

Length
13.06 m
Wingspan
14.99 m
Weight
6424.32 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Flint
Ribbon
Flint
Ribbon
Secondary Gene
Violet
Noxtide
Violet
Noxtide
Tertiary Gene
Pink
Glimmer
Pink
Glimmer

Hatchday

Hatchday
Jan 28, 2022
(2 years)

Breed

Obelisk icon
Adult
Obelisk

Eye Type

Special Eye Type
Arcane
Bright
Level 25 Obelisk
Max Level
Scratch
Eliminate
Sap
Rally
Haste
Berserker
Berserker
Berserker
Ambush
Ambush
STR
122
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
47
INT
7
VIT
8
MND
7

Lineage

Parents

  • none

Offspring

  • none

Biography

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⁕⨳※CAERULEA CAELI※⨳⁕

• prodigy • poet • dragonsona •
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Polyhminia's 1287 Mass Hatch
Phyllobates Aurotaenia
Ranoidea Caerulea
▸Thank you to Shian for the Companion Comet
▸Thank you to FallingUpstairs for the Enchanted Book Collection
▸Thank you to LuckyStarite for the Gossamer Flame Candles
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Runeback Slink
Arcane Aura
Unhatched Arcane Egg
Arcane's Charm
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THE PRODIGY
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____Caerulea Caeli is a name dragons do not forget.
____The Obelisk has traveled to nearly every corner of the Continent, researching, teaching, lecturing, searching. The Light philosphers, the Arcane magisters, the archaeologists of Earth, the engineers of Lightning and nearly every expert and intellectual across Sornieth knows her name. Or at least, they know her epithet— the prodigy. Few dragons can claim the world-renown that Caerulea has, nor the talent, the skill, or her vast array of knowledge acquired from all her travels. Notorious for refusing to stay to stay in one place, the traveling dragon is considered one of the foresmost experts on magic, known for her boundless ambition and relentless thirst for knowledge.
____Caecillian, however, knows the truth.
____Caecillian is Caerulea's first- and perhaps her only -friend. The only friendship she's ever had with real roots. Everyone else simply gets cast away in the rush of her life, her relentless search. The two are close as kin, and they might as well be, having no kin of their own.
____Caerulea, like Caecillian, has a past cast in shadows. Her very name is Caecillian's invention, ever since the Spiral discovered her wandering through the Starwood Strand, dumb and alone. But where Caecillian found a family in the Knot, Caerulea found herself consumed by her own missing past.
____So she travels Sornieth with her ruthless ambition, searching for the name she's long since forgotten. Even the deities could not unearth it now, but as long as Caerulea lives, she will claw for her lost name all the same.

The last daughter of a race time forgot,
Now known by a prodigal name,
Will never know just what she has lost,
And will claw for it all the same.


Minor content warning for implied gore and death in the story below
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Enchanted Libra
Enchanted Book Collection
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Starseer's Emblem
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PART 0 PROLOGUE

_____My story?
_____Caerulea laughs, shaking her head as she slams shut the cover of the great tome she’s writing in. Sorry, friend, but I can’t tell you that. Not because I don’t want to— but my past is just as foreign to me as it is to you.
_____Caecilian found me wandering the Strand all on my lonesome, in a daze— or so I’m told. They hadn’t a clue where I’d come from. Hyacinth and Valerian took me in , and, well, with no place to go… I remained. And in all that time, I haven’t recovered a single memory from before Caecilian found me. Not even my name.
_____You nod quietly, swallowing your disappointment and preparing to leave.
_____Ah, well, there is just one thing. Though I’m uncertain it has all that much to do with any missing memories of mine. Caerulea suddenly adds.

note: image of current day caerulea
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~~~~
_____ She furrows her brow, deep in thought. The companion comet orbiting around her begins to hum, fading in and out with ethereal light.
_____Sometimes, at dawn, when the stars begin to fade out of the sky, I… I’m overcome with this terrible sadness. She raps a violet claw against the cover of the great book.
_____I… I look to the sky and… though I’ve never been able to understand why, I… cry.
_____The great mage Caerulea has the Arcane imbued in her very blood, lighting up her eyes brilliantly.
_____But past the distortion of the immense gravity of the comet she keeps around her, past the rockhide scales, flesh, and bone… Something flickers within her. It’s intense and unfamiliar, bearing a resemblance to the arcane and at the same time, something entirely different.
_____A powerful, ancient spell has been wound around her soul, buried deep within her heart. The threads of it are intricate and yet fragile. Just a single tap against her soul could unwind it entirely.
_____But some things are better left buried.
~~~~
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PART 1 CALLISTO
~

_____Let us return to the dawn, the dawn of a new Age. The Arcanist was born to a nest of dust and desecration, black lines of char and ash radiating out from his birth like a violent star. He crawled out of that crumbled eggshell into a world of devastation, alone.
_____But every ending is also a rebirth.

_____The scorched landscapes regrew, new life burgeoning out of the great Behemoth on the horizon, or the sunken scar of the Wyrmwound. What was lost, yes, would never return, but the beasts of the devastated land learned how to thrive in their ashes. The flora, the fauna, the beastclans— and the dragons.
image: arcanist's birth
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~
image: weird dragon collage
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_____The formal histories of Sornieth will tell you that the dragons were first fashioned out of magic by the great deities of the land after the World Pillar shattered, spitting them out of its shadow. A lie.
_____Long before the Fae or Imperials or Tundras and Guardians, there were dragons; dragons carved out of the Arcane by the fragile, loving hands of the Arcanist; dragons who breathed and bled and laughed and lived and died and mattered. But their names, their faces, their colors, scales and claws; the memories of who they lived and died for… it all died along with them. Of them, there is but one survivor; the last, prodigal daughter of an ancient and doomed race of dragons.
_____Her name was Aurotaenia.
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~~~
\

_____Aurotaenia was born the youngest, the last of what was likely many siblings, to a father that surely adored her and older siblings that she revered and was cherished by in turn. She likely had friends who were fond of her, perhaps even a lover that doted on her— but all of that, like them, is lost to time.
image: 3 egg nest
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image: arcane sprite
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_____What remains is this— a marvelous mother, a master of magecraft. The Arcanist, high up in his Observatory, taught those dragons how to warp and weave the elemental magic, bending it to their will —though none ever had such proficiency with it as her mother.
_____The dragon could rip starlight from the sky, like catching fireflies. With just an utterance, she could discern the causes of illnesses and ailments, and from the grasses, she could pick the exact wildflower that would cure them. The Arcanist’s only true protégé, verging on a true grasp of the cosmos beyond.
~~~~

_____It was no surprise when her daughter, her youngest, beloved daughter, was born with brilliant Arcane eyes. She was a prodigy, able to twist and bend moonrays with her claws as if they were stretches of silk, transmuting common clumps of dirt into precious stones.
_____But the renown of her prodigious talent mattered little to Aurotaenia. She reveled in being beside her mother, getting to watch her perform her art, learning her tricks of the trade for herself. Just to be sheltered under her mother’s wing was all she needed. She was happy.
~~~~
~~~~
_____It all changed when one day, their Arcanist vanished; his Observatory was left empty, his records blank and his instruments unattended. A panic quickly infested the populace— until a shadow passed over them, a giant pink blur rising over the horizon.
_____The Arcanist was climbing the World Pillar.
image: world pillar icon
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~~~
~~
image: arcanist with the stars
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_____None of those poor dragons knew what to do, if anything could be done. The Arcanist heaved and struggled with every moment, sending the dragons into a panic every time his claw slipped and he skidded inches down the pillar. But the deity held on, and resumed his long climb upwards. Eventually, he disappeared into the clouds beyond, at altitudes unreachable to them. All they could do was pray.
_____Her mother prayed. She chanted and cried, recited and raved, sang incantations in the center of a ritual circle for hours, days, weeks. The clouded sky faced them with unremarkable blankness and not even a flicker of violet from their god. Desperation only intensified the magic that she wrought, composing orchestras of energy and sorcery. Her mother, on the precipice of greatness, sang and called out to the stars.
_____The day before the world ended, the stars answered.
~~
_____A vision from the cosmos beyond— a vision of death, of blackness and an all-consuming void. A vision of their god, at the top of the sky, whose idle curiosity led him somewhere where no-dragon should have ever dared tread, something that no-dragon should have ever dared do. Some things were best left buried, and clawing to free them may not reveal treasure— it’ll simply pull apart the scabs of an aching wound.
_____Her mother argued and fought with the other dragons, urgently warning them of the calamity to come. They believed she’d gone mad from the lack of sleep and ardent desperation. They could not be swayed. Fine, then— begone with them! Her mother knew the truth, knew what was coming; and so she forsook it all, packed up her entire family in the night, and they fled.
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image: arcanist at the top of the pillar
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_____They fled the homelands they’d lived on for decades, shut the door on every relationship they’d formed in that doomed settlement, snapped their very tethers to the earth. Now, unbound, they coasted on the currents of water and wind, wandering the lands as far south as it could take them, as far away from the World Pillar that they could get. They ran through the pitch-black midnight, guided by the arcane lights her mother conquered, unwilling to rest. Even if they had dared stop in their tracks, the terror of what was to come was so severe they could hardly have slept.
_____After many exhausting hours, dawn finally arose on a bright, clear sky. The clouds overhead split to reveal the true height of the World Pillar. Miles into the sky, the Arcanist stood atop it, beckoning the darkness that its Barrier kept at bay. It swirled over the sky like a spiraled storm cloud, the eye of a hurricane. The great Pillar beneath it trembled and shook, rumbling the whole continent with its force. Aurotaenia watched in horror as the dawn broke, stars fading from the sky as the azure world began to fill with cracks.
~~~~~~~
_____Aurotaenia, forgive me. Her mother wept, cradling her youngest daughter in her arms. I’ve failed you.
_____The World Pillar shattered.
~~~~~~~
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~~~~

_____The end of the world was rather quite beautiful. It splintered her eardrums in an instant, rendering everything to glorious silence. The sky cracked, opened, and split in half, the darkness pouring in a light-consuming waterfall. Like a serenade to the victims of its wrath, the explosion of the Pillar sent its massive shards streaking across the sky like falling stars; burning orange, red, and white-hot as they scalded her eyes. Aurotaenia remained utterly transfixed by that brilliant fire as the superheated comet barreled towards her, striking the earth with divine fury and searing her eyes blind.
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~~~~
_____The world was reduced to painful sensation and muted sound, the smell of ash and blood cloaking her nose, the sparks of flame that burnt black onto her skin, the taste of death ringing her mouth. She clutched the dull claw of her father, cold and still. She cried, with no one to return her cries. Her wings had been decimated in the destruction, her body pinned under debris. Death stared her in the face, reflecting her own terror back at her in its eyes. She, as well as everyone she’d grown to care about, would die here.
~~~~
image: starsweeper
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_____No.
_____Her mother’s voice cut through the ruin, along with the agonized sounds of the dragon dragging herself through the ash and anguish to gently cradle the face of her youngest—her last daughter—a final time.
_____You, my daughter, will live.
_____Aurotaenia's last moments were this; the cool curve of her mother’s horns against her forehead, the salt of their tears intermingling on her cheeks, the distant blur of the peach-pink dawn above them, and the tune of the last song her mother ever sang, all the magic in the world dancing to its melody.
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You'll flourish in a new land under the sun,
Though I won't live to be by your side —
Abandon the burden of sorrow and pain,
For blood is thicker than water and time —
Though memories may no longer remain,
Thought I won't live to see what you become —
Death cannot change the blood or the water —
~~~~ _____Tears ignited and burned, the world warping around her mother's final words. A spell bound not by force of will or magic or the deities themselves— but by her very life and death, the last thing she could ever do for Aurotaenia.
~~~~
You'll always be my prodigal daughter.
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~~~~
_____Anger, terror, sadness, pain— it all left her. Aurotaenia’s fragile soul was pulled from her broken body, a pure, powerful energy that couldn’t even be touched by time or death or even the blackness that threatened to swallow the sun. As the Shade rained down from the heavens like the vengeance of angered stars, her mother curled the little wisp into the hollow of a seed.
_____The mother dug a little divot into the dirt, burying the seed shallowly. The blood dripping from her broken claws soaked the soil, muddy as she smoothed over the spot, patting it flat. The sky moaned as the Shade surged in with a tar-black tidal wave.
_____She met oblivion with a smile as it took her, wiping her name from time.
~~~~
PART 2 CAPELLA
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~
_____But with every ending comes a rebirth.
_____The ravaged world regrew, as it always does. Fertilized by the blood of the thousands before, flowers bloomed once more. The sky cleared, the sun shone, and new grass pushed up out of the ash-filled dirt to cover the decimation with greenery— and time marched on.
_____The newly-awakened deities, migrating out of the shadow of the World Pillar, created new life to replace what had been lost. The Mirrors, the Pearlcatchers, the Ridgebacks, the Wildclaws… Dragonkind spread out over the world, painting over the memory of the destruction with their newborn civilization.

image: flowering wasteland
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~
~~~~
image: arcanist's observatory]
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_____In the shadow of the Arcanist's Observatory, a seed split. A tiny, small green stalk that pushed up through the dirt to reach the sunlight. As the daylight nursed it gently, it bloomed a little green leaf, then another, and another. Its stem lengthened, thickened, hardened, darkened into coarse tree bark, stretching out with spindly branches to grow more leaves. A small, stubborn tree sapling. A regrowth. A new beginning.
Dandelion Seeds Daffodil Provision Tree
~~~

_____The next several decades passed with all the slowness of wood. She grew thicker, taller, sprouted new branches and heavy boughs of leaves. The once-barren lands around her bloomed with grass and, eventually, flowers and shrubbery. Saplings sprouted up all around her, stretching taller and taller towards the sun. As dragonkind grew, forming settlements that’d burgeon to the size of towns and eventually cities, the trees of that forest grew tall as towers. They soaked up the Arcane energy imbued within the soil until their leaves grew glittering, their white birch bark turning silver.
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~~~~~~~~
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The former wasteland was named the Starwood Strand by the dragons who lived there for the way the leaves and blossoms of its flora seemed to glow like stars in the moonlight.
~~~~~~~~
~~

_____With every year that followed, her memories faded. As new boughs of starlit leaves burst on her branches in spring, only to shrivel and fall away in the autumn, the names and faces of every soul she’d come to care about were blown away on the wind, crushed into the leaf litter. As she grew to stand tall as the Pillar that had once protected her, the syllables of her own name fell away with each petal of every fragrant flower that bloomed on her branches.
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~~
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_____Centuries passed. Her roots grew deep, stretching down into the heart of the earth, the world that lay beneath the world.
_____In caverns far below, the ancient Earthshaker was carving out something new. It was beautiful and yet unfinished. A hollow, lifeless shell intended to be instilled with something more.
_____As it sat dormant over the years, waiting to be found, her roots grew deeper, wrapping over its horns, impressing into its mane, gnarled roots encompassing the dragon of stone and imbuing it with something more.
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~~~

_____A flint-gray Obelisk with a violet mane burst out of the earth under a rising sun.
_____She rose, covered in dirt, stone dust, twigs of tree roots, and the glittering grass of the Starwood strand, dramatically at odds with the star-bright foliage that surrounded her. She looked up at the peach-pink sky above, stars fading as the sun rose over the towering tree-tops.
_____Her eyes filled with tears.
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~~
PART 3 CAELUM
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image: caecillian f pose
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_____So the story goes, Caecilian was the first to stumble upon her wandering aimlessly, in a dazed stupor, through the Starwood Strand. Caecilian took her back to the Stellanodus Villa, unable to leave a helpless dragon unaided.
_____At that time, just about everything the world had to offer her was strange and foreign, even her own body, whose limbs seemed heavy and unwieldy. Slowly, she learned. First, how to walk, run, climb, and fly. She learnt their language and their ways, seamlessly melding into their way of life. She remained close to Caecilian, the first dragon she’d ever met and the first she grew to trust.
~~~
~~~~~

_____They soon found that she recalled nothing from the moment before Caecilian had found her in the forest— and even that was a dim memory. She didn’t even have a name to speak of. After months of awkward placeholders and straddling the subject, it was decided that she would have to come up with a name for herself. She tried out many names, struggling to find any that didn’t leave a heavy feeling hanging over her heart. In the end, it was actually Caecilian who came up with the name she finally settled on.
_____How about… Caerulea?
_____It would do.
~~~~~
~~~~
image: spellbound tome
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_____Caerulea, it turned out, learnt fast. She shadowed the steps of the clan’s scholars, eagerly devouring what knowledge they could offer her, burning through every book in the Anthollow Archive until, within a few years, her knowledge had outpaced every scholar within the clan.
~~~~~
~~~~~

_____A breathtaking prodigy, Caerulea was immediately enthralled with magic. She aided Caecilian in their practice and studies of both Shadow and the Arcane, and Caecilian was happy to teach her everything they knew. But there came a time when they had to tell her she had learnt everything they had to teach her. And though the Strand had been her home, it could never keep her.
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~~~~~
~~~~~
image: astrolodome & oculus of the eleven
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_____Her studies took her all over Sornieth. The Astrolodome, where she studied under esteemed magisters until they could no longer surprise her. Stunned by her intelligence, magisters invited her to the Oculus of the Eleven, where scholars from all over Sornieth levied questions of mathematics, natural science, physics, and magic at her— all of which she answered, all with ease. Even the magisters of the Oculus had nothing more to show her.
_____She wandered the shelves of the Tourmaline Archives, where she might have forever remained in its dusty halls had the librarians not dragged her out.
~~~~~
~~~~


_____She witnessed and wrote extensive observations on the wonders hidden deep within the vaults of the Rimebone Stockade and the horrors the Gaolers keep under lock and key within the Fortress of the Ends.
_____She sat at the center of all the world’s messages in the Aergate, devouring every scrap of modern knowledge that could be offered to her. Keeping up with the pace of modernity, while exhilarating, was also exhausting.
image: rimebone stockade and aergate
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~~~~
~~~~
image: turrets of goldensparc and lanternlea port
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_____She met with the engineers of lightning, learning the inner workings of the intricate, interlocking machinery of the great factories that run the Turrets of Goldensparc harnessing the immense electrical energy that spat out by the Source.
_____She studied alongside archaeologists on expeditions to the remnants of the Hewn City, and participated in archaeological digs in Colonnades of Antiquity, uncovering ancient secrets of the earth, discussing them at length with lightsworn scholars in the shadowed Lanternlea Port, almost just as at home in the sun-drenched Sunbeam Ruins as she was in the Starfall Isles.
~~~~
~~~~

_____Caerulea devoted herself to debate and study at every sanctum, archive, library and center of Sornieth, embracing every field of study that was open to her, becoming a master of magic and other arts, and circumventing the entirety of the continent—
_____But no-one, not a dragon, not a beastclan, not a single scholar, student, mage, monk, priest, professor, wizard, witch, or sorcerer across the entire continent of Sornieth could do a thing to reveal anything about her past. It remained a blank slate, an ether from which nothing would ever return from.
Forgotten Poet's Tools
Owlcat Journal
~~~~
~~~~
Haunted Stone Orb _____For a time, she almost gave up, she tried to settle her roots down in the Knot alongside Caecilian and the others— and she lived comfortably, for a time. The other dragons of the clan were in awe of her talent, but the constant acknowledgement of her skill grew tiring, more than anything else— knowing that no matter how brilliant she was, she had lost something.
~~~~
~~~~~~

_____As long as she lives, she will claw to get it back.

_____So she travels. She debates, orates, instructs, researches. She’s published many treatises on magic, mathematics, physics, science, and philosophy. Her name is known in even the farthest flung corners of Sornieth, though some, like Caerulea, don’t know her actual name, and simply refer to her by her epithet— the prodigy.
~~~~~~

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image: animated spellbound tome
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_____Caerulea’s home, in gemstone shades, sits slanted against the base of one of the Starwood Strand’s massive trees. The wood shines like silver, the soil like diamond dust. It sits empty most of the time, with its sole resident traveling abroad for most of the year. She makes sure to visit every once in a while, if only to pay a visit to Caecilian.
_____Her relentless quest will never end, but sometimes, she can almost be convinced she can make a life for herself in the Knot. Whenever she returns to the Starwood Strand, to the shining, silver-bark tree and her gemstone home, she comes perilously close to content.
~~~
~~~~
_____When she’s in the Knot— home, if you could call it that, she sings, she reads, she writes. Her poetry is for herself, and herself alone. Even Caecilian isn’t allowed to read it. When she’s not writing it in, her thick, leather-bound notebook is sealed shut with magic, unbound only at her command.
~~~~
~~
image: modern day caerulea again
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_____Caerulea prefers writing in the daylight, often at dawn, when the night sky begins to lighten, stars fading out one by one. The sky, streaked with white stratus clouds, shifts from midnight blue to peach-pink and fire-orange, and the sunrise turns everything golden.
_____Caerulea does not consider herself a dragon easily moved by emotion, and yet, for reasons she’s never been able to understand—

_____The rising sun has always brought her to tears.
~~
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Tyrian Revoloution

Violets bloom like the dawn in a ribbon of sun,
The peach-pink sky heralds what is to come,
Viridian regrowth has already begun —
Life blossoms again from the charred earth.

The lavender won’t ponder what can't be recovered,
The lilac won't dwell on what has been suffered,
The lily’s secure in its knowing that it is beloved —
And with every ending comes a rebirth.
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