Cazador
(#90828853)
Uncovering the mysteries of her past
Familiar
Algae-Bottom Slarg
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 44/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Earth.
Female Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
28.9 m
Wingspan
15.94 m
Weight
5841.58 kg
Genetics
Oilslick
Boulder
Boulder
Oilslick
Myrid
Myrid
Raspberry
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Lineage
Biography
| ____________ |
“Look at that marbling. I can already tell they’ll be beautiful. And they’ll be here soon.” Dima’s claw snags lightly on the uneven, rocky surface of the egg. One singular egg, on the morning of a festival dedicated to the Earthshaker. He’s on the floor beside his bed, leant over the edge. The egg sits cradled in Persephone’s arms. “Oh, we should name this one Cazador-“ “I’m leaving, Dismas.” Dima is shaken by her sharp tone. He can’t quite look her in the eye, and suddenly he finds his mouth very dry. Not that she gives him the chance to speak. “And I’m taking the egg with me.” Dima finds his voice again, and courage to look her in the eye. To his surprise, she doesn’t look angry or disappointed. If anything, she just looks tired. “… Why?” Because of him, he thinks. “Because…” She starts, seemingly lost in thought. “You can’t just be there for me. Your loyalty is to the Vault, to your strange godhood, and whatever problems you refuse to be honest about.” She frowns. “I’m tired of waiting for you to be vulnerable, Dima.” Dima doesn’t get up. He pulls his hands away and rests them on the edge of the bed. He fidgets with the bedspread. “Can’t we fix this?” His voice wavers. “Can’t you at least yell at me?” “I think I’m above yelling at you,” Persephone says. “And the only way to fix this is if you just admit what ails you so much that you have to keep up this facade.” She leans in slightly. “So? Who hurt you?” She touches his cheek. “Let me in. Please. Stop joking around when I’m trying to be genuine with you.” He lays his hand over hers. “… I can’t.” The answer comes easier than he likes it to. “Not yet. I just… Can’t you wait for me?” “We have children, Dismas. You’ve known me for a while. I think I’ve waited for long enough,” she says. Her brow knits into a deep canyon. She pulls her hand back. “Just… This. You don’t get mad. You don’t even beg for me to stay.” She slides off the bed past him and gets up, clutching the egg tightly to her chest. “How am I supposed to feel like I’m wanted?” “Percy-“ She huffs, turning sharply towards him. “People love the idea of you. But they will never love you.” Her shoulders are hunched, but it offers her plump figure little in the way of command. “I’m glad to know you, don’t get it twisted. But I hate this burden you’ve chosen for yourself and that you insist on carrying it alone.” He manages to stumble to his feet. “Persephone-“ The back of a nearby chair is the only thing keeping him upright. “It would be dangerous to tell you. I can’t.” “Gods, Dima, I don’t care,” she finally yells. “You tear the Shade from people and eat it. I think it doesn’t get worse. And I’m not sticking around now to wait for you to admit that.” She hurriedly turns to rush from the room and subsequently the house. Dima does not follow her. He can only watch her now draconic form fly off, her dark wings stark against the pale light of Sornieth’s twin moons. ....... In the end, the stolen child was kept close to her mother unlike her siblings. The child who she dubbed Cazador out of sentiment was raised in Dragonhome to be surrounded by her own element. Persephone returned to her spellweaving for pay as she always had, Caz sat upon her lap to watch her mother work. For a bit, they were happy, and the question of Cazador’s father and heritage rarely came up. Only when Caz’s bloodline powers started manifesting, she started questioning where she actually came from. The Shade couldn’t make her sick, space was inherently fragile around her, and it seemed like even her elemental powers were warped to something not seen before by her peers. Thus, when she was old enough to leave, she left with what sparse clues she had as to what her own identity was.   "Thank Heaven! the crisis -- the danger is past, And the lingering illness is over at last -- and the fever called "Living" is conquered at last." | ____________ |
CAZADOR
code by Archaic #19153
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