cordiformed's dragon Carver

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

6.83 m

Wingspan

7.49 m

Weight

642.1 kg

Genetics

Hatchday

Oct 14, 2022
(1 year)

Breed

Adult
Aberration

Eye Type

Light
Common

Level 9 Aberration

EXP: 716 / 21526

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

c a r v e r
chisel ~~and rasp~~

"to love a sibling is to anchor your life to a series of sanctioned departures."

pronouns ~~they/them~~ she/her
occupation sculptors
alignment chaotic neutral
personality frenzied, desirous, intuitive

_{strength

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dexterity

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constitution

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intelligence

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wisdom

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charisma

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about.

Once, there were two halves. Chisel and Rasp. Sculptors, a sculptor. Together calling themselves Carver, shedding whatever name their hatcher gave them for one that matched the deftness of their claws, the strength in their tools. Stone was their medium of choice, and the wildlife of the Tangled Wood their subject.

Chisel refuses to tell the story of how ~~they~~ she lost Rasp. To the foolish, she looks simply like an unusual skydancer. The shawl she wears draped over her head and shoulder hide the massive scar where Rasp used to be. A scar she can barely allow herself to look upon, let alone any other dragon.

The horror of being alone in your own head after a lifetime with another being weighs heavy on her. In desperation she sets upon stone in a frenzy, carving dragons of all breeds as if she can fill the gap left behind with a different rocky visage.

Aberrations tend to be naturally private creatures. They are slow to open up to others--what need have they of outsiders when there is always someone to share your weals and woes with alongside you already? And Carver is no exception. Even after Chisel loses Rasp, she refuses to bear her heart to other dragons, and it weighs heavy on her singular mind.

She would never share why she joined Tian. Why she works to build him a following of walking stone. She would never tell a soul why she treats the ground he walks on as holy, why she swears he's sent by the Shadowbinder herself, why she praises his ascension as lavishly as she can. Why she thinks he can fill that hole Rasp left within ~~them~~ her.

story.

The wound is still fresh. ~~They are~~ she is not used to controlling both sets of limbs, and she keeps catching herself pausing in her movements, waiting for the other half of the motion that has never before been her job and every time she has to catch up with that thought it hurts. Both the pain in her shoulder where a neck once connected, and deep in her heart and stomach.

She is searching desperately for stone. Nothing back at what once was ~~their~~ her workshop is adequate for what she needs. The sizes are all wrong, fit for carving flora and small fauna. Not a dragon. And a dragon is what she needs.

It takes days of wandering, she tries to keep the mud and gunk of the marshes away from her wound. She finds the stone she needs in a clearing, surrounded by sprouting fungus and fallen logs and thick brambles, in the center of this flat land as if it had been dropped there from above.

She drops ~~their~~ her tools unceremoniously at its base and begins to work.

This, too, takes days. Some filled with nothing but roaring, crying, startling the wildlife from the brush around her. The Serthis clan in the area give her a wide berth, but keep watchful eyes on her. She wakes one morning and someone has applied a mixture to the wound, and on her now rests a woven orange shawl across her. The mud is patterned in the movement of snakes, and the local Serthis emblem is emboidered along it. She wraps it close, hides the wound from the harsh outdoors and her own gaze, continues her work.

When she finishes, she cannot call the work pretty. She has never carved a dragon before. But still, it looks...eerily like Rasp. The same square face, same straight horns, same stubborn curls to her neck frills. The limbs are not as dainty as ~~their~~ her own, rather stockier--she feels like a novice again, unable to chisel the narrow branches of stone she needs to fully capture what would be Rasp's likeness.

Its eyes are empty. It does not speak. The void within her grows wider.

This is where Tian finds her, tipped off by the Serthis. For a long while he says not a word, just admires her work. Where Chisel sees all flaws and ghosts, Tian sees potential. He sees strength. Intimidation. Power. Incredible skill in the lifelike statue. And he gifts it a fragment of the sunlight he has tasted, and asks the artist in the mud to rise with him. The statue's eyes glow horrifically bright.

relations.

creation

prophet

trivia.

» a little obsessed with tian.
» wears the shawl to cover the scar from losing rasp
» carves statues of dragons in a futile attempt to fill the void rasp left.
» 25g (vastly under priced imo)
» aberration added 7-28-23
» sarcophagus added 8-19-23
» ribbon and underbelly added 2-12-24

carver | german | chisel ~~and rasp~~
bio layout by incalyscent
modified and written by cordiformed

byvaj wrote:

What a tragic creature. The strongest bond between sister minds broken, but not gone. Half the soul, half the dragon, yet still a singular being. It's beyond a humble human comprehension what an unique relation must have been formed between two minds sharing one body. And the power of grief stronger than a stone, she used it to commemorate her sister soul forever. Bless them, Lightweaver.

Carver (Rasp and Chisel)

Chisel: I’m Tians’s right-hand arm man. I’m Tian’s everything. I’m his confidant, his best friend, his silly rabbit.

Marmairo: His what?

Chisel: His silly rabbit.

Marmairo: Is what what he calls you?

Chisel: No.

Flu Game by Fall Out Boy

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