Goldie

Two. Two heads on the dragons that had been discovered in the center of the Scarred Wasteland. Two locations that samples were taken from, the Wyrmwound’s rim and the Forum’s pool. Two elements mixed into a sickening experiment. Two hatchlings who met their fates before they could even fly. Two bodies fused haphazardly, accidentally, with the muck. Two souls bound to the horrific form left behind. One creator who abandoned his experiment in fear of what he had wrought.

It’s not an Aberration, not quite, despite all the signatures of the breed—two heads, two tails, broken legs and shredded wings. Likewise, the black dripping from its socketed eyes and rolling in rivets down its torn wings isn’t quite the goop of Shadow. It’s all too real, tearing open skin and cascading blood at every wrong move. None of it’s quite right, with the fabric that hides the unnaturalness. It had been two, who now are one, but maybe not quite—they don’t know if they were meant to be. (“I wish we were,” one murmurs. One head dips low, as it often does, its ears flicking against his broken horns.) (One hums quietly, a sound that rattles their chest and draws out more of the black. It seeps further into their fur. “We’d be lost if we were,” one decides.) (“We already are.”) They haven’t left. Where would they go? One is merely unhappy, but the other is mad. That’s why the black seeps from one head, staining the fur and feathers around one throat. The other looks away when that anger shows. Three eyes with which to cry more black onto their claws. Eventually, they are found. (One thrashes at the sight of a newcomer, teeth bared. One recoils.) (“We musn’t fight,” one pleads, and new black spills from its eyes. “It isn’t him.”) (“How are you so sure?” one argues, choking on the substance.) They’ve met so few dragons. They’ve seen so few colors. The intruder is painfully familiar, but his touch as he lifts them from the ground is far too gentle to be their creator. “Poor thing,” he croons. His beak prods at them lightly, catching on stitches as he examines them. “Rest easy. I’ll put you back together.” (He does.) (It hurts.) Goldie, he deems them, a placeholder to be changed by the next claws to hold them. He ties a ribbon around each little neck, blue and red. Tight, too tight. But they do not argue. They do not protest. He cannot know what was done. He cannot know they are alive. So when he leaves, as do they, slipping out in the shadows left in his wake. They don’t know where he goes, but it doesn’t matter. If they are to cross paths again, it would be much later.

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(“We have to find Him,” the one adorned with red hisses. The malice in its voice makes it clear which Him it’s talking about.) (The head adorned with blue lowers, but nods, solemn. Resolute.) (“Can we rest first?”) (“Not yet.”) (They nod again. The ribbons scrape at their throat.)

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The creature is often mistaken for a plush doll, but be assured, beneath the fabric and fur and feathers is still flesh and blood. As a whole, they are quiet, docile until provoked. The two heads are rather coherent, and have no issues communicating with each other and the world around them. They do still argue from time to time, but their disagreements rarely cause major issues. They don't mind being referred to as a singular entity. It's only between themselves that the distinction matters.

The right head has a red ribbon wrapped tightly around its throat. It is harsh and blunt, uncaring of most things. It seems the only emotion it still understands is anger, as it endlessly seeks revenge for what happened to them. Very few dragons are capable of reasoning with it... but it is not beyond repair.

The left head has a blue ribbon secured around its neck, looser from it anxious picking at it. It is meek and soft, crying nigh-constantly from its three eyes. Sorrow is the lens it views the world through, and though it too wants justice, its much too scared to admit it. Honestly, it just longs to be held like the hatchling it once was.

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Goldie is the result of one of Locke's experiments. They consider him their creator. They hate him. While the two heads have different opinions on how to go about dealing with him, their absolute loathing to him is uncontested. Locke ruined them. They can't remember if it was him who killed them, but even if it wasn't, it was his interference that kept them tied to the mortal plane instead of being allowed to rest. They hate him.

Efren was the first living dragon to discover Goldie after they escaped the workshop. She immediately saw through their disguise as a plush. She became fascinated with them, as she did with most abnormal creatures, and offered to take them somewhere they'd be safe. Distrusting, Goldie refused at first, but kept running into her... and with very little strength and even less options, they hesitantly followed her. They're still on edge around her, and they don't like her curious prodding, but they're warming up to her. Slowly.

Hope took a quick liking to Goldie after Efren brought them to her. She views them as a hatchling in desperate need of love and care and Goldie... finds they don't mind so much. Red is a little averse to the affection at times, but even it is charmed by the positivity rolling off the Obelisk. It doesn't feel nearly as attached as Blue does, but still. Goldie is terrified of something happening to her, and revels in her motherly attention.

Under the cover of where the Foxfire Bramble to the Abiding Boneyard, a Skydancer hatchling waited eagerly.

Before long, a Mirror hatchling ducked into the vines where he hid.

"Cassie!" chirped the Skydancer. The Mirror's crests twitched in lieu of greeting, but their head stayed abnormally low, their eyes studying the ground instead of their dear friend.

"Cassie?" The Skydancer quickly began to grow worried, anxiously ruffling his wings. "What's wrong? You look... you look scared. You're never scared."

The Mirror looked up suddenly, their expression unreadable. Without explanation, they surged forward, wings awkwardly wrapping around their companion. Against the side of his head, they whispered, "we're not safe."

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> click on assets to be linked to credit
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