swagger

(#94455034)
Level 1 Skydancer
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Fire.
Male Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Skin: mou chin mai min pau

Scene

Measurements

Length
4.28 m
Wingspan
6.04 m
Weight
617.58 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Tarnish
Basic
Tarnish
Basic
Secondary Gene
Thicket
Basic
Thicket
Basic
Tertiary Gene
Tomato
Basic
Tomato
Basic

Hatchday

Hatchday
Apr 18, 2024
(1 month)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Eye Type
Fire
Common
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
Scratch
Shred
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7

Lineage

Parents

  • none

Offspring

  • none

Biography

scry?sdid=2673113&skin=55837&apparel=29246,1750,50500,28787,28811&xt=dressing.png
The angel likes cleaning the sheep's wool and feeding goats and brushing cows. He likes watching the chickens bath themselves with dirt.

He doesn't like when you cut the grass. He laid his hand on the riding lawn mower and it cut off without even a groan. He kneed down in the yard, hands outstretched before him and dug into the dirt like he's taking root. When he stood again, he smoothed his hands down the borrowed grease-stained Carhartts and said There.

Before you can ask what the hell he just did to your grass, the whole yard erupted as crickets, beetles, grasshoppers, and June bugs lept towards safety and the edge of the field. You watch, jaw sunk, with the angel satisfied at your side. You watch until the last of the nail-sized moths have disappeared into the cornrows. The angel turned to you, so smug that it was unbearable.

Now you may trim your grass.

Thanks for the permission,
you say, sandpaper dry, even though you're still thinking about the chorus that kicked up as the crickets and cicadas raced for survival.

You ought to be the angel of insects too, you hitch a leg over the mower with the sense of memory. You used to race your brother through prairie trails before the last horse died. You were both slathered in sweat and dust by the time it was supper. You miss it.

The angel hums a little, always watching. Maybe.

The angel doesn't like burgers but he likes fried eggs and powdered mini donuts they sell 6 for 4 dollars at the convenience store. They're expensive but you like the way he smiles as he's eating something he likes the taste of.

You woke up at the start of the next week to a notice from the bank. They've elected to forgive all debts on account of you always paying the minimums on time. Except you haven't paid the minimums on time once in the last two years. You waved the paper at the angel and said Would you look at that? How miraculous.

The angel had one of his I Don't Understand This Human Thing You're Talking About faces on. You knew he was to blame. Ever since he came back, the animals' feed lasted twice as long as it should have. Each hen lays three to four eggs a day. It rained just the right amount, only during the hours you spend sleeping. Your garden has never looked better; the corn might even be good for eating and not just for gas. You think of setting up one of those roadside produce stands. It'd be easy to make, and now you finally have a surplus to sell. You could have the angel do it—you think he might like sitting in the sun and chatting to strangers as they load up their minivans.

Every time you roundabout mention this sudden uptick in miraculous changes to the farm, the angel only smiles beatifically or pretends not to hear.

Once, he said Life is nothing but a series of small miracles that have been deemed ordinary. Miracles happen every day without angelic interference.

Right,
you say sourly. I'm sure that this perpetually nice weather is natural.

He does his best to copy your habitual shrug. This year's almanac predicted a good harvest.

You asked him about the people he found after you and where he got his coat from.

There was a girl. She needed my help. The shirt you gave me ended up covered in blood. She gave me clothes from her father's closet. I think you will like her. She is... electric.

I don't like anyone,
you say, half-joking.

He gives you one of the handful of faces he now carries in his body's rolodex. This one says: I Know You're Not Being Honest With Yourself But I Am Electing To Ignore It. You're not sure where he learned it.
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Exalting swagger to the service of the Earthshaker will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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