Lucinda

she/her

To put it very simple, Lucinda has never gotten along very well with the clan's shadow-blooded members. She is a staunch loyalist to the Lightweaver and holds a fierce, often troublesome distain for dragons born from the Shadowbinder's forest of murky brambles.

It is a disliking born from childhood experiences. When she was young, Lucinda's home in the crumbled walls of the Hewn City was attacked by a Shadow platoon who were on the assault in an attempt to procure dominance over the territory. In the attack, Lucinda was separated from her clanmates and left all on her out near the city's outskirts, and when she turned back to run back inside, what she saw was a wall of great, wicked thorns that were being grown from the rubble at an accelerated rate by a grinning, boney Nocturne mage. A monster of a Snapper stormed through the city and left rubble in her wake. A flock of several Skydancers fly overhead, blasting globs of pure darkness onto the fleeting clans down below. Flames of pitch-black fire licked at her feathers as she stared in horror, eyes blown wide as the purple-eyed dragons laid her home to ruin.

The elder Nocturne looked at her and sneered. "Run along, little light." She cooed. "Run, run. Fly! Fly away! Either stand and stay and fight me like a dragon, or flitter off right now like a bird-a mere morsal! For that is what you are..."

With that, the adult dragon then hissed and struck the dragonet. Right in the eye.

It left...a rather nasty scar.

Quasar firmly believes that it is those very words that fuel Lucinda's training. She's got a fighter's spirit for such a young dragoness! But despite her aptitude on the field of war, she rather struggles in social quarters. She has a way with words when it comes to the shadow dragons around the dial that many would describe as "cold" at best, and at worst outright hostile.

"We are working on it!" Peeps says assuredly. "She only threw one bowl of sand suckers at Truffle last time!"