|
♛
"Mark me well. I know no pity. No second chances. I don't do mercy."
♛
_________________________
|
|
B I O G R A P H Y
______ Octavius hardly was known to be a polite dragon, very mischevious and very much ill tempered. He was not very joyus to have siblings but when he became much older, he was cruel in his own way. Scaring the much younger hatchlings when they first arrived. His mother, Valentine is much upset that most of the dragons don't like her son, for his personality. At some point Valentine had spoken with Scyther who was laying in the shadowed woods known as Voodoo Woods. Where she is always working away, Valentine asked the green Voodoo like dragon if she could hold her son there. Maybe even work with his personality and calm it down. Octavius tried everything in his power to tell his mother to reconsider the offer that she presented to the dark Avocado dragon. But Valentine didn't let him sway her away from the offer.
______ Bitterly the male dragon, left to Scyther's home of dark woods. Acting as the protector and fighter of the woods. He was however not the only dragon to come to Voodoo Woods to help the tinkerer. With new friends who were born to only act Malicious to others. They were brought here to fix their attitude and use it for enemies, instead. Visting Dragons do come and go, and most of them are taken aback with Octavius seeing as his lineage legendary to the great Naomi line. Not only that, but with primal eyes.
Mother has made it even harder for me ever since she sent me here. I’m stuck with the Nocturne, and now a bunch of useless nobodies sent here for the same reason. They want us to change, to control our aggressive urges and channel them into defending against enemies, like as if they don’t expect that out of us already. I can defend myself just fine. That’s all that matters to me.
Shadows leak from his eyes; a signal you’ve found him. Octaviaus spills it everywhere he roams, though one wouldn’t find much anywhere. He prefers to keep to himself, exploring where others dare not to venture, yet he stays close to the cursed woods he’s forced to call “home” for a while. His wretched mother had sent him there, just like the others, to make a change in him; a change for the better. She wished and hoped the vile in him would turn into vigilance, protecting those who lack defense and help the kind. The idea was scoffed at by him while he made his trek towards Voodoo Woods, a thickly bundled forest nicknamed after the avocado drake who lives there. She tinkers and fixes objects in her free time, usually working in alchemy in her normal time. Octavious had found a liking to her science, and frequently helps her with her recipes, taking any chance to relish in dark workings if he can. However, the clever Nocturne can tell what he’s always up to when he tries, so she makes sure he helps her with more “passive” ingredients whenever he’s around.
He heralds from the great Naomi lineage, generations of strong power bestowed upon the next in line, and granted such fine omnipotence. He never wishes to keep it hidden, always looking for uses every day; One drake in particular had tickled his fancy when he wishes to use it most. A Fae, titled Hadlee; he was born from his same mother lineage, but a different drake named Inkwell had given him a new kind of power, one Octavious finds most interest, and potential, in.
The power to weave inklings. The ability to create life from a writing substance.
What leakes from his eyes leaks from Hadlee’s whenever it’s in use, but reverts back to normal quickly when he ceases. Octavious has spoken to him before, when the nervous dragon had asked of him about his own power, wondering how he had taken it himself. The older Fae scoffed, and couldn’t believe he wanted to waste his time with trying to do something futile, telling him that whatever idea he thought would work wouldn’t. Naomi was power-hungry; her descendants are too, no matter what they think. Deeply hidden, there will always be something inside one of them that yearns to use more, to gain power, to rule anyone below them.
Octavious wishes to finally do something about it, to take the advantage. Opportunity has never shown itself yet, but he waits patiently for it to come. He’s made the mistake of making his own, and it’s something he prefers not to ever try again.
Whenever he thinks of Hadlee, he thinks of his own magic. Previous generations in his family line up to inkwell also, but he was never given the Inkling power. He felt stagnant, despite his relation to the enigma of Naomi, his great-great-great grandmother. Yes yes, he’s been oooed and ahhed many times, but it’s become boring to him; he wanted something else. Something he was unable to have, watching a younger, less experienced relative of his barely even use it.
I could use it. I would use it. Naomi would be proud of me. She would deem me honorable, if only I had that inkling. I could do so much more with it; I wouldn’t be restrained like this anymore. I could go out, leave the horrid woods, make myself known to the history books:
Octavius, descendant of Naomi, powerful leader across the realm, the dentless Fae.
Sitting to himself on a lonesome branch, he sensed someone was below him Bones quietly crackling as he moved, he dipped his head to see who it was; Speaking of the devil himself, it was the young Fae with the impressive Inkling. Octavius smirked and pushed himself forward, falling from the branch he was sitting on. As silent as the night, he landed next to Hadlee, undetected.
He greeted to his side, “Hello Hadlee.”
The nervous Fae jumped. “Ah!” He quickly turned to his right, finding the Fae with the Primal eyes next to him, expression unreadable. Hadlee started to calm down a bit, still picking at his fingers. “Oh. Hi Octavius.”
“Why are you around these parts? You normally stay closer to the areas where Scyther is, not in these thicker parts of the woods.”
Hadlee sighed. “Just wanted to take a walk. . .that’s all.” His eyes remained frozen, watching the ichor drip from the bone mask of the opposing Fae.
“So you got lost?”
“I never said that.”
“I’m taking it like that. You’re usually never around here.”
“Maybe you just don’t see me around here.”
“Hadlee. I’d see you for sure if you frequently visited around here. I come here commonly too.”
“. . .so that’s why you’re always gone.”
He chuckled, “Well, I never said that.” Octavious noticed his still gaze and smiled. “. . .Hey. When’s the last time you’ve used that Inkling?”
The younger Fae’s eyes left the dripping goo and looked up. “Uh, I’m not sure. Why are you asking?”
“Ah, just wondering about it. I was thinking of it lately and. . .have you ever used the power on someone else’s Primal eyes?”
Hadlee raised his eyebrows. “No? But I don’t plan to. I only use when I know I need to.”
Octavius groaned. “Right, because Scyther told you that?”
He shook his head. “I’m telling myself that, Octavius. I don’t wish to use it very much.”
“But why not? Doesn’t it sound so interesting to weave animate being from ink?”
“Maybe to you,” he answered, passing him by, “but not to me. You’d be interested because you don’t have it, but I do, and I’ve seen what could happen if. . .if I can’t control it. I just don’t want to risk it.”
Octavius recognised they were returning back to where everone else lived, but tried to make it last as long as he could. He needed him to agree. “Then why not let me help you?”
Hadlee paused. “. . .You want to help me? Are you okay? Did you eat something or-”
“Ugh, no Hadlee, I did not eat anything. I’m saying I can help you control it.”
“How? You don’t have it.”
“Mm, maybe not. I’m older though, and I’ve been through a lot more. I think I know a thing or two.”
The younger Fae faltered for an answer; His cousin was right. Octavius was older, and it seemed that he had been through more than small Hadlee did. Although, he was never born with the Inkling; it was chosen by colors of purple, and Octavius didn’t have them. But, his eyes were primal, leaking the ink Hadlee needed to use for his magic anyway.
However. . . “. . .Would you really be okay with me working on you then?”
Got him. “Of course. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”
He mumbled, “You wouldn’t be offering anyway. . .” Hadlee sighed, then raised his voice back up. “F-Fine. I guess I could try. . .maybe even learn how to control it better. . . .”
Octavius put an arm around his shoulder as he said, “Hadlee, you could always control it. You just don’t try. You always keep it hidden away.”
“For a reason, Octavius. . .”
“A reason I deem not good enough. You don’t know if you’ll truly lose control of it if you never try.”
“. . .I guess so. . . .”
I will make Naomi pround. I will make this lineage something to be feared. No one will forget the powerful name of Octavius; Everyone will remember me in my legendary ancestry as the one born for power, just like Naomi.
I will rise above all otherm surpass anyone who challenges me. I will show them that suppressing me was a mistake, and one that won’t be repeated.
Octavius led young Hadlee away from the congression, staying relatively close lest something unexpected happened. Traveling just a little longer, they reached a lighter area, surrounded by small patches of glowshrooms, accompanied by fireflies coming out wherever they stepped. The older Fae sighed; too bright for the Shadow region.
Stopping at a tree stump far bigger than the both of them, he jumped, propelling himself upward using a flap of his wings, Hadlee following. He sat down once he was up top, waiting for the younger Fae to get on as well; Hadlee was struggling to pull himself upward after he caught himself on the rim, almost falling off. When he made it, he hurried over to sit in front of the expectant Fae, both centered on the wood.
Waiting, Octavius stated, “I’ll take off my mask whenever you’re ready”
Hadlee still felt reluctant, twidling with his finger again. “I’m not so sure about this Octavius-”
“You already agreed to doing this, and we’re already up here. Just get on with it.”
“But what if it hurts you? Or me? Or both of us??”
“It’s just ink, Hadlee. We already decided to do this.”
“It’s not just Ink, Octavius. It’s ink that can come to life.”
“We don’t even know if it will come to life, since the ink isn’t from you. Who knows? Maybe nothing will happen, and you just drew something cool on your paper.”
It was odd to hear the older drake say something of anyone’s was “cool”. A very rare compliment. “Well, I guess. . .I guess we could keep going. You have to, um, take your mask off now though, so it can pool.”
“Where’s your stuff then?”
“I’m giving it time so there’s at least a little when I got all my stuff out, and I don’t need to wait.”
He chuckled, “Whatever,” as he began to take his heavy mask off his little face. A black, ichor-like substance dripped eerily from his eyes, condensing into a small pool in front of the two of them as he leaned forward. Hadlee wasn’t watching, so when he looked back up after taking out his tools, he flinched back, surprised to see Octavius so close.
“Oh!”
“What?”
“I, uh. . .just, never saw you without your mask. It’s. . .”
“What, unnatural? Weird? Bewitching?”
“. . .not normal.”
He scoffed. “I thought you were gonna say something better than that.”
A bit embarrassed, Hadlee looked down, mostly to avert his inferior gaze, but to check the ink’s amount as well. He deemed it just enough to make a little scripture of an animal or plant, basic looking to his unfortune. He breathed deeply, then focused into calling forth his Inkling power.
To Octavius, Hadlee just sighed, then closed his eyes for a couple moments. Intruiged, he continued watching, seeing the faint glow around his eyes darken as he shuddered ever so slightly. Then, something thick and shadowy started to leak from his eyelids, similarly to Octavius. He smiled, feeling a bit excited. He’d been wanting to do this for a while, unforunately needing to wait a while after that last interaction with him.
Hadlee opened his eyes and blinked, teardrop-sized ink falling from his face. He gasped, then leaned back a little. “Oh no. . .maybe I shouldn’t’ve done this. . .I forgot my eyes would leak ink as well. It might mix with yours.”
Octavious grinned balefully. “Let’s try it out anyway.”
Hadlee’s frills lowered.“N-No no, I don’t want to. I’m already risking so much just using someone else’s, Octavius. I don’t want to try anything worse.”
“You don’t know if it’ll do anything though.”
“That’s the point! I don’t wanna find out.” He inspected the criss-crossing pools of ink, figuring out a way to salvage them. “. . .maybe I can just. . .” He leaned forward, reaching out his feathered pen and dipping it in an area he knew for sure wasn’t mixed, then pulled it back and began drawing on his paper he took out, repeating over and over until he finished.
Mentally, Octavius was growling; he wanted the young Fae to use the mixture; he wanted to see what would happen, if anything were to happen. Why was he so wary about this? He doesn’t even know anything about it, besides that he can use it. Why not then? Why fear it? Why push it away?
Why not embrace it?
Why not learn to control it, if he’s so worried?
Octavius quietly sighed. At least he was able to see what would happen if Hadlee used his primal eyes instead. That was all he came here to do, really. It was itching at him though; He could be using a mixture right at the moment, and Octavius would be dying to see what would happen after he was finished. He still is, but unfortunately can’t expect it to happen.
He watched in silence as the pen was dipped again, Hadlee continuing to scribble upon his parchment. Patience was something not only the Nocturne had taught him, but something he taught himself as well, something he realised was an asset for what he wants. One must wait for good things to come to them, he would often tell himself, but sometimes, one must make the opportunity for patience, however. Not everything will be handed to them, which is why one must take action to get what they desire. For now, though, he waits.
At once, the writing stopped, and didn’t return. Octavius looked to Hadlee, who was admiring his work, tension in his abyssal eyes. He held up the paper to see it, covering most of his face. Octavius grew impatient; wasn’t something supposed to happen by now?
The younger Fae then set the paper to his side, watching the ink intently as he put it on dry ground. Nothing. . .then the parchment shivered, slightly crinkling as a thin shadow rose from the top, changing its color to a purple than its original dark black. Thorns pricked out from its sides as its petals blossomed, dyed like the moon and pale like its light. It grew straight from the paper until it was about half a foot tall, then it ceased.
Both Faes were speechless, until Hadlee mumbled, “A Dusk Aconite. . .”
Octavius looked at him. “What did you say?”
“I drew a Dusk Aconite. It’s a flower that only blossoms at night. It. . .works. . . .”
“. . .It did. . . .” He paused, mouth curling into a smile.
It worked. It really did it. That means what I thought was right. Doesn’t matter the ink. It’s the weilder that matters, if they can do it or not. Hadlee can for sure, which means. . .I might be able to do more with him.
Need to be careful about it though.
“. . .Do it again. Use the mixed ink though.”
Hadlee picked up his creation with care. “I don’t think I should. I’ve already tried using someone elses. Yours, actually.” He gently stroked the petals as he asked, “Isn’t that all you wanted to do?”
“. . .No. I wanted you to use the mixture too. Just try it out, even if it’s a little, like a blade of grass or something.”
“To make one blade of grass, I think that’d take a while.”
“If you add details, yeah. Just do something. You don’t need to use much.”
Hadlee sighed. “Octavius, I already did what you asked of me-”
“And now I’m asking you to do something else. If you’re so gracious to do what I asked before, why is this different?” Keep it calm. Don’t force too much. You know how Hadlee can be.
“I. . .I guess it isn’t, but I don’t wish to try it.”
“Why not?” He leaned forward, ink dripping into Hadlee’s.
“I, uh, just think it’s risking too much of the Inkling.”
“Hadlee, that flower looks fine. Just try it. You don’t have to use alot either.”
“But-”
“Stop making excuses for yourself. You say you want to gain control of it, no?”
He hesitantly nodded.
“This is how you do that, by using it more, by channeling it yourself. You can’t take control of it if you never use it. You know that.”
Hadlee didn’t respond. Octavius looked around for a moment before picking up the reluctant Fae’s pen with his tail, handing it to him.
“Use it. You don’t know if it’ll be that bad.”
He mumbled, “It could be worse. . .”
“Or better,” Octavius ended. “Just try it and see for yourself. What if you’re wrong?”
“. . .Wouldn’t you know that? You said you knew a few things or two about this.”
“Then listen to my words. Try it.” He had said nothing after that, thinking it was a mistake not to, but then, Hadlee caved in.
“ F. . .Fine. . . .” He huffed, then took the pen from his cousin’s tail, dipping it in the mixed ink after taking out another paper. As he scribbed on it, Octavius wrapped his tail back around himself, waiting for the younger drake to finish.
Mother sent me here to fix my attitude, my motives. My motives won’t change, and neither will my attitude. I will be me, whatever happens to myself. How else will dragons remember who I am, what I did?
They cannot change me, and even though that Nocturne tries, she fails. My sould is hardened, even darker in the shadows, right where it belongs.
I will not disappoint. I will live up to Naomi’s title. I will become powerful.
I will rise and make a name for myself.
I will be a burnt page in the history books.
I will be feared, just like I should be.
My Soul.
Hard and Remorseless.
Lyrical and moving, my life had been purposeless.
My Soul.
It will not be wavered.
I will conduct those with their heads bowed.
My Soul.
This black rose is rotten.
This tea, forsaken.
They will fear my goals, My name will remain unforgotten.
by HopeLostMusica
|
|
_
|
(Without Line)
(Line)
