Petrichor

Description: A serene giant, Petrichor moves silently despite her size. Even the most observant dragon may not notice her presence until they smell her; the dark, damp, smell of healthy dirt after a steady rain. She doesn't speak much, but her voice is mellow and deep, with an undertone that makes one think of dark, green, growing things.
When other dragons pass through their little home in this field, they usually don't stay long. Part of this is because outsiders find her stare...unnerving. There's something about the way vegetation hangs off her body wrong, something about the damp green smell drifting off her hide paired with breath that smells like dry leaves and smoke, something in this field that accuses you of a crime from centuries ago, or perhaps one yet to be committed.
If you stick around long enough, in this place where time is just one of the wandering souls left here, and Petrichor will forget you were ever new, ever separate. You'll be safe.


Relationships: Petrichor's guardian charge is an old battlefield and those souls left in its soil, both those at rest...and those who woke up again. The restless ones, lost and confused, with most of their pasts left in the mud, look to Petrichor as a guiding figure.

Origin: Like those she now watches over, Petrichor's memory of before is...hazy. The faces of parents, siblings, a long-lost clan, have eroded to mere hints. She tries not to think about it too much. The memories she grazes against whisper of overwhelming grief and guilt, in a way that compels her to inspect every aspect of her new charge, from the pebbles to the restless souls. A whisper that fills her with a jealousy and a deep, dark rage for an all-consuming moment before she forcefully turns away from that whisper and into the present. It whispers that once upon a time, before the battlefield, before those she now guards were even hatched, a very, very long time ago, she failed.

Memory: The earliest clear memory is of waking up, standing in the middle of a battlefield that had not seen action for quite some time by now. Joints stiff, limbs heavy, Petrichor was only aware of the present. Most vividly, she was aware of the bodies half-buried in the mud and encroaching plant life. The memory fades out for an unknown time. The next memory only picks up when Petrichor had claws caked in dirt, a feeling like a whisper trapped in the back of her throat, and a deep exhaustion and satisfaction, looking out at a field now occupied with dragons stumbling as if relearning how to walk.

Friends and Foes: Petrichor's closest companion now was a Mirror female that never left her side. Something in Chikai's emptiness was frantic and confused, restless with an anxiety amplified for the lack of memory to put a reason to it. Petrichor never minded, this shadow of hers was welcome, whether Chikai ended up underfoot or distressed and draped on Petri's back. Being in close contact seemed to...comfort, her. Researchers later suspected that Chikai's distress was due to being separated from her Mirror pack, and she was so tightly attached to the Guardian to deal with that loss, even if she had no memory of her prior family.