Kit
(#82198744)
Level 1 Nocturne
Familiar
Ichor Nymph
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 45/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Male Nocturne
This dragon is benefiting from the effects of eternal youth.
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Personal Style
Hatchling dragons cannot wear apparel.
Scene
Measurements
Length
1.23 m
Wingspan
1.15 m
Weight
27.03 kg
Genetics
Purple
Iridescent
Iridescent
Royal
Shimmer
Shimmer
White
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Biography
| aaaaaaa |
The Hopeless Nature of Denial
She finds the egg abandoned at the edge of the Starwood Strand. A Nocturne egg, she recognizes. Some part of her wants to leave it there, and another wonders if it would be safer to push the egg into the sea and spare Sornieth another trouble-causing Nocturne. A third, gentler part of her remembers her own nest, eggs pulsing with life and soon-to-be hatchlings. Only a few more weeks and her hatchlings would be breaking out of their shells. Why shouldn’t this egg be given the same opportunity? Her mate would argue, she knows, but she also knows how to convince him. She carefully scoops up the egg, hoping no one sees. As expected, Daeorm isn’t pleased. “A Nocturne,” he snarls. Not at her, but at the egg, “It will bring ruin to our clan! Do you want our hatchlings around that, Crux? Our innocent hatchlings?” Their eggs glow in the corner, protected on all corners in case they float away. The Nocturne egg sits on the table, Crux carefully laying a blanket to make sure it doesn’t roll or jostle. “It’s just a hatchling,” she insists. “We can teach it to be good!” “There’s no such thing as a good Nocturne.” No, there isn’t. Crux heard the stories of Nocturnes causing all sorts of troubles, bringing bad luck by just existing. They could cause storms and droughts, kidnap hatchlings and leave theirs behind like changelings. That’s what happened to her, isn’t it? She still has her own eggs, but something tugged at her heart and convinced her to take the egg. “We can teach it to be good,” she repeats. “A good, proper arcane dragon!” “Do we even know it’s element?” Daeorm asks. “What if it’s not an Arcane dragon? How will we explain that?” “Its eyes will change. It won’t ever know. It’ll be our secret.” He doesn’t look happy at her insistence, but he doesn’t argue anymore. He huffs at her and lays down by their nest, protecting them as if just placing the Nocturne egg with them will corrupt them. The relief keeps her from commenting on his behavior. Daeorm watches her as she searches for extra blankets to wrap around the egg. He might not want it by their own eggs, but she wasn’t about to let it crack before it’s time. She finds a space for it near the kitchen, warm and safe. “You’re mine now,” she whispers to the egg, out of Daeorm’s hearing. “No one will know. You’ll be safe with me now.” - Life got busy with three energetic hatchlings. They all took after her, lovely Fae hatchlings that didn’t cry as much as if they took after their Pearlcatcher father. The hatchlings knew not to touch the final egg, even as they were trapped indoors during the snowy months. After her own hatchlings emerged, the Nocturne egg was moved to the corner to ensure there was no tripping or accidents. One dreary morning, the three hatchlings run to her, speaking over each other to tell her that the egg is cracking. She can’t remember if she’s ever moved so fast in her life, hatchlings curling around her to watch the thick shell crack. One of the hatchlings must’ve called Daeorm, her mate staring from a distance, making no move to introduce the hatchling to the world. The cracks continue, egg wobbling around the blankets as the hatchling attempts to break free. Crux wonders at the thickness, at how even before the hatchling enters the world, it faces difficulties just by being a Nocturne. Finally, a purple claw breaks through, wiggling unsurely at the new space the hatchlings can't yet see. She knows breaking out is the first step to a healthy hatchling, but it takes everything in her to not help. Another claw cracks the shell, and with a little more wiggling, the final pieces break off, leaving wide purple eyes blinking at the new world around him. Purple eyes. Behind her, Daeorm hisses at the sight, grabbing at their hatchlings to move them to safety. The Shadow hatchling falls at the sudden movement, tripping over the shell remains to get away from the perceived threat. A shrill cry escapes his throat. Crux rushes forward, wrapping her wings around the hatchling in some semblance of comfort. His first moments and he’s already orcastized, she thinks bitterly. She hushes him as best as possible, knowing that non-Fae hatchlings need more inflection that she can usually manage, but this hatchling doesn’t know anything else and he settles after a few moments. Daeorm ushers the others to their room with a stern warning to stay inside. They don’t argue, though she’s sure they’re pressed against the door in an attempt to hear everything. Crux tightens her wings around the hatchling, knowing Daeorm isn’t going to temper his words for him. She wishes she had the opportunity to make sure he was fed and sleeping, but the fury in her mate’s eyes told her she was lucky the hatchling was still allowed in her arms. “A Shadow dragon,” Daeorm snarls. “A Shadow Nocturne. He can’t stay here, Crux! You see what he is!” “He’s a hatchling, Daeorm. He can barely walk, let alone cause ruin.” “He will,” he snaps. “Not now, but one day, he’ll be the reason our clan burns down!” She keeps her eyes down, looking at the trembling hatchling. He doesn’t know what’s happening, just that it’s loud and scary. “His eyes will change in a few days,” she reminds him. “Faster than if he was already a dragon. He won’t even remember this.” “He’s still a Nocturne,” Daeorm retorts. He’s a hatchling, she wants to repeat, but being a Nocturne would always be more important. Even when his eyes turn Arcane pink, he’ll be shunned for being a Nocturne. “We can change that too.” Daeorm stares at her. She doesn’t blame him. She’s never suggested anything as crazy as breed changes. It's possible with the right amount of treasure, but tales of regret and pain stop most. Suggesting it for a hatchling? Unheard of. “Our own hatchlings are still young. Perhaps we had four Fae instead of three? Unless you want a Pearlcatcher hatchling like yourself,” she offers. The silence drags on. Perhaps she finally lost her mind. Perhaps the Shadow Nocturne’s mere presence influenced her. Daeorm says nothing, watches her hold the hatchling like he was always theirs. She can’t imagine losing him, and she won’t stand by and let Daeorm throw him out before he could even fly. “A Fae.” Her eyes look up. “A Fae,” Daeorm repeats. “It’s more likely, and we don’t want to draw any more attention to him.” She nods. Tomorrow, they’ll gather their treasure and find an honest and reputable mage. Their own hatchlings will have a new brother. More lies, but at least all the hatchlings are still young. They won’t know any different, she promises. - As her hatchlings grow into dragons, Crux is relieved to see that no one suspects a thing. Her early nightmares of their actions being revealed and the hatchling being shunned never happen. The Shadow Nocturne became an Arcane Fae, and even Daeorm warms up to him, taking the hatchling to the forest to catch bugs and play in the water. Like all Fae, he’s an expert bug catcher and avoids getting his fans wet. He plays with his siblings and is friends with a neighboring Skydancer girl. Crux does her best to not gossip, but she wonders if that friendship will ever be anything more. When she took her Nocturne to the mage, she wondered if she would hold this secret in her heart forever, but time carved away her fears. She can honestly say that she has four darling Fae hatchlings, and not a word of that is a lie. There’s nothing to hide. Her youngest, now named Kit, grows interested in the magics, testing spells and runes on their wooden floors. “This isn’t what I meant when I said ruins,” Daeorm grumbles at the scorch marks. Crux ruffles her fans in laughter and calls it karma. She takes Kit to the best teacher in the village, asking Madame Nalice to take her hatchling as a student. Both she and Madame Nalice see potential in his curiosity, and she thanks the teacher endlessly when the answer is yes. Soon, their home is overrun with books, and Kit becomes more withdrawn. He and his Skydancer friend, Emre, spend less time together as he focuses on his studies, though Crux is glad to see them sometimes emerge from the forest with berry-stained claws. She really ought to talk to Emre’s mother, she muses, but they’re still young. Madame Nalice takes Kit to the Tourmaline Archives on a field trip, an honor that not many could afford, and Kit comes back even more focused on his studies. Crux can barely drag him out for a meal, she tells Madame Nalice. Later, years in the future, she wonders if Madame Nalice knew more about Kit than Crux herself. It begins when Emre goes missing. She never returned home to her parents, though Kit swears he dropped her off. They search the forest and scour the waters, but there is nothing there. It’s as if she disappeared, or perhaps ran away. That was ridiculous, of course, Emre was a good girl who had no reason to run away. Days turned to weeks, and the village had to face the truth: if Emre did not run away, she wouldn't survive alone. She must’ve ran, they assure themselves, but it was a mystery that remained unsolved. Kit, distraught at the loss of his friend, retreats into his books, rarely leaving his room except going to Madame Nalice’s classes. Slowly, even that becomes rare. One morning, Crux knocks on his door, inviting him for breakfast. The silence is normal, but the empty room when she opens the door is less usual. An early class, she thinks, and goes to ensure the others start their meal. Morning turns to afternoon, and her hatchling doesn’t return for lunch. She imagines him in Madame Nalice’s room, too busy reading to notice his hunger from a missed breakfast. Night falls, and there’s still an empty chair at the table. Knocking at his door reveals a still-empty room, but she knows Madame Nalice would’ve pushed Kit out the door for a peaceful dinner. Crux sighs and goes to her door, hoping she could at least point her in the right direction. “Kit,” Madame Nalice repeats blankly. “We didn’t have a class today. Are you sure she said he’s coming?” Terror grips her heart. “I assumed,” Crux answered. But where else would he go? He didn’t have many friends, with Emre missing and his own preference for books over dragons. He rarely goes to the forest or the river anymore. As far as Crux thought, Kit only leaves home for Madame Nalice’s classes and vice versa. She can’t sleep that night. Daeorm holds her and tells her that Kit clearly got distracted in his books and decided to sleep outside. She wants to believe him. She wants to believe that Kit will be back in the morning, complaining about the dirt and leaves. Morning comes, and he’s still missing. There’s a search party, all too reminiscent of the one for Emre, and just like that one, they don’t succeed. He ran away, the whispers say. She refuses to believe that. Kit had nothing to run from. She made sure he had a good life, had friends and family. She rescued him years ago, and she refuses to believe it was for nothing. She goes through their photos to find one to make posters. She finds herself and Daeorm and the other hatchlings. Her search becomes frantic and she can’t find him, can’t find any photos of Kit existing. Daeorm searches with her, but no, it’s as if her Kit never existed. As if he was some fever dream and she was just waking up. If it wasn’t for the others clearly remembering him, she would’ve doubted her own sanity. “He ran away,” she whispers to Daeorm. “This isn’t some accident. He ran away.” Daeorm’s words from years ago echo in her mind. He will bring ruin to our clan, he warned her. There’s no such thing as a good Nocturne. One day, he’ll be the reason our clan burns down. The rest of her clan, the rest of the village, everyone else is fine. To them, Kit’s disappearance was a tragedy and nothing else. There was no fire, no ruin. For Crux, her entire world disappeared. She fought tooth and nail to ensure her hatchling was safe and never felt left out, only for him to run away. He didn’t even leave any pictures for her. Years go by and Kit is forgotten by most. She and Daeorm remember the Nocturne hatchling, of course. The other siblings remember their brother, but their hatchlings never hear about their missing uncle. She never sees her darling hatchling again. There are no letters, no sign that he’s still out there. She holds the memory of him close to her, and then when time and age take her memory, there is nothing but the idea that something is missing, and then there is nothing but a grave with a stone that remembers her as a beloved wife and mother of three. | aaaaaaa |
| aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa |
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