Zephyr

A long-time friend and companion to the ever-weary StormStrike, Zephyr does her best to lend a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and a wing to shelter under after one of StormStrike's infamous breakdowns or blowups.

While she's certainly no therapist, nor does StormStrike treat her like one, Zephyr does try to act as a supportive and reliable constant in the tempestuous life that StormStrike lives.

Weaving and going for a midnight flight are, in Zephyr's opinion, excellent ways to wind down when one's heart is full of turmoil.

Should that fail, however, and a patiently direct conversation is both unwanted and rebuffed, simply being there as a supporting presence or ensuring others don't pester her conflicted friend is often Zephyr's go-to course of action.



Raised by the strong-willed and honorable warrior, Minya, Zephyr is surprisingly capable of physically removing the issue- dragon or otherwise- should polite conversation fail, or if walking away is not an ethical option.

Her name, which technically means "gentle breeze," is a reference to her quiet and normally gentle personality, as well as her grace in aerial maneuvers.

StormStrike has nicknamed her, "Banana," after her vivid yellow coloring and noticeable preference for the fruit. She will also refer to her as, "Zenny." In return, Zephyr will occasionally refer to StormStrike as, "grumpy bat," "gloomy zoomy," or "plum."




“Ow!” StormStrike yelped, but she didn’t fight Zephyr off as the yellow dragon twined her tail with hers and wrapped her wings around her.

"They think I have invisibility..." StormStrike grumbled between clenched teeth, tail thumping against the ground in quiet irritation.

“You don’t have invisibility,” Zephyr argued. “I mean, you’re a black dragon. You’re just hard to see in the shadows. That’s not a power. I’d be invisible, too, if I were stalking through the tall grass of the savanna.”

A pause, then StormStrike huffed, turning her head to face the south, neck arching rather imposingly. “Yes, well, my black scales allow me to appear seemingly from nowhere in the dark of night. Swooping down as if the sky has just fallen upon you!”

She spread the wing that wasn't tucked under Zephyrs' majestically.

“Still not a power,” Zephyr said, snickering. “That’s just you being creepy.”

“It's not creepy!” StormStrike cried, her voice rising indignantly. “It's intimidating and cool!”







“I’ve been waiting for a challenge for ages and ages,” Zephyr went on, gently teasing. She strutted across the meadow, shimmering yellow and peach wings catching and reflecting the light of the afternoon sun. “No one dares challenge me for my ultra-secret weaving techniques!! I am the strongest sky warrior who ever lived!”

“Don’t forget the greatest weaver,” StormStrike hissed, tilting her head towards a pile of loosely bundled thread and yarn, a few feet away from the meadow's edge.

“Oh, right,” Zephyr said. “It’s probably because of all my weaving materi- er, my glorious treasures! I have so much because I’m such an incredible weaver and sky warrior!” Zephyr swept the bundles of thread and yarn towards her and gathered them to her chest.

The yellow dragon paused, fanned crest pressing loosely back against her long graceful neck as she took a quick mental count of the number of red and blue bundles she had.

The sun was just beginning its retreat across the sky, painting the rocky meadow in warm and vivid hues of color.

Oh, how she wished she could take the colors of the sunset and melt them into her carefully woven creations. Alas, her fanned crest drooped, such a thing was not yet possible, not even for a weaver as skilled as herself.

“Did someone say weaving materials?” StormStrike rasped, leaping out from behind a large rock formation. Zephyr yelped with surprise and flared her wings, dropping her bundles in shock.

“No!” StormStrike called. “You’re not scared! You’re the mighty weaver, harborer of ultra-secret weaving techniques, and glorious treasure! The big, bad sky warrior!"

“R-right,” Zephyr said. Clearing her throat, she straightened, lifting her wings and playfully lashing her tail. “Rargh! What is this tiny fool doing in the Kingdom of Sky? I am not afraid of tiny fools! I shall go out there and eat her in one bite!”

StormStrike huffed a laugh and started forwards, only to stumble over something unseen and garner a face full of daises and earth.

A beat. Then, the black mirror female sneezed.

Zephyr started giggling so hard she had to lie down and cover her face with her wings. StormStrike scrambled upright and adopted an unintentionally exaggeratedly dignified pose, lifting her snout in the air and grumbling in embarrassment.

As the yellow mirror laughed, though, StormStrike snuck a glance at her, furrowed brow and tired eyes softening as she took in the sight of her best friend laughing heartily, golden and peach scales all but glowing in the light of the retreating sun.

Ethereal. Sweet. Soft.

Kind.

StormStrike snorted abruptly, grabbing a decently sized branch off the edge of the meadow and turning to face her companion.

Rigid crest now flared in a playful display of dominance, the black mirror female swung her branch in a circle. “GRRRRRR!” she shouted. “And other scary bandit noises! I’m here to steal precious secrets and treasures away from a magnificent dragon!”

“Not from me, you won’t,” Zephyr said, pretending to bristle. She stamped forward, spread her wings, and raised her head threateningly. With her smaller stature and banana-yellow and peach coloring, the smaller mirror hardly made for an intimidating sight.

StormStrike growled playfully, lunging forward and mock-snapping at Zephyr's tail and legs. With a giddy shriek, the yellow female darted out of the way, and they circled each other, feinting and snapping.

This was StormStrike's favorite part of this game- when Zephyr forgot about jokingly acting superior and focused instead on the play battle. She was fun to fight, as her small size made it easy for her to dodge the larger mirror female's claws and slip under her defenses.

But in the end, StormStrike was not only bigger but more experienced in terms of real combat. She eventually pinned Zephry against the ground and thrust the branch between her neck and her wing, pretending it went right through her heart.

“Aaaaaaaargh,” Zephyr howled. “Impossible! A mighty sky warrior defeated by a lowly bandit! The kingdom will fall apart! Oh, my treasure… my glorious treasure...” She went limp, lifting her wings just enough to brush lightly against StormStrike's sides, before allowing her wings to flop lifelessly on either side of her.

“Mwha-ha-ha-haaa!” StormStrike cackled evilly. “The treasure is mine!” She scooped up all the bundles of thread and yarn Zephyr had dropped in their scrabble and paraded away, lashing her tail proudly.

---