Art Sales

Amazing shop super talented written 10/10 would go here again

@Bubblegumbabie

Kind of a re-write of the information you gave me, with a little more detail and fleshing out. Hope it's okay :) Feel free to say if there's anything you want changed!

Lore:

Despite her large size, Sera is considered sweet and level-headed. Unafraid of the wide world, she wandered alone for a time through the domain of the Windsinger. Alone, that is, until she met a Gaoler named Varkas. The two dragons bonded, and together they looked for a place to call home. In the process they discovered an abandoned egg, alone on the windy steppes. They cared for the egg as their own, and it hatched into a beautiful Imperial female with the sky on her wings. They named her Delana. The trio settled down to run a clan, finally allowing Sera to collect the small statues and trinkets that bring her joy.

@wolfgen

No worries! I've been thinking about her all day (I've been pretty busy), and I'm hoping I'll have time to start writing tonight. I was thinking it would be interesting to write the scene where she meets her apprentice...how does that sound to you?

@WolfGen

Tell me what you think:

I can definitely make changes if you want it to go in a different direction :)


“Do you have anything that can help? I feel so hot…”
Elzbietka mopped the sweat off the dragoness’s brow. “The fever will break soon. You’re going to be fine.”
The sick dragon moaned, eyes closed, foreclaws twitching against the woven fibers of the nest she lay in. “So hot…”
“I’ll see what I have in the back,” Elzbietka told her, putting the cloth down in a small bowl of cold water.
Turning, she made her way past all of the empty sicknests to the back of her den. She rummaged through the back shelves of her den, taking stock of which herbs she had in store, and which were nothing but piles of dust. A disturbing number were dust. Frowning, she bent down to examine the baskets underneath the bottom shelf. Empty. No Feverfew…and don’t tell me that Zeppo took the last of my chamomile…
She pulled the baskets forward, sniffing around behind them. “Of course she did. Not a single leaf left.” Sitting up, the inside of her nose began to tickle.
“Ahhh...ahh… Achoo!”
The sneeze disrupted some of the piles of dust.
Sighing, she pushed them back into their little mounds with her claws. “I guess I had better go on a collection trip. I need herbs immediately, before anyone else turns up ill.”
Smacking the baskets back under the shelves with her large tail, Elzbietka turned around and made her way to the front of her den. Coming up to the sick dragoness, she grabbed the cloth out of the bowl of water and dabbed it across her scales one more time.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t have anything to help you right now. But I’m going out…” She turned, picking up her satchel and slinging it around her neck. “I will find herbs to help you sleep, and this fever will pass.” From the basket near her nest she added food to her satchel, along with several small pouches for collecting herbs. “I will be back in an hour or two.”
The sick dragoness simply sighed softly, having fallen asleep. Elzbietka gave a small smile, adjusting the nest around her patient, before padding towards the front of her den.
Outside the entrance, she paused for a moment to flip over the stone saying she was at home. Off we go. Elzbietka trundled off into the woods— keeping her head low to the ground, eyes sweeping the underbrush, nostrils flared. Using her beak, Elzbietka snapped off several of the feverfew stalks, trying not to crush the small white flowers as she gently placed them in her pouch. Moving forward to another patch, she repeated the same, gathering more of the crisp green foliage. As she sniffed around in the patch, looking for the best specimens, a bright splash of something red caught her eye. Her large head swung around to take a closer look. The smell of iron filled her nostrils.
Blood.
She followed the trail of drying blood spatters across the dappled glen. Her pace quickened as the blood became fresher. There.
The trail of blood came to an end at a giant leafy bush. Cautiously, she lifted the bottom branches of the bush with a foreclaw. In the deep shadows underneath the bows, a small nocturn, mottled yellow and green, was curled into a tight ball. Blood seeped out from a gash in her neck, just above where it met her forearm and wing.
“Hello?” Elzbietka called softy. “Can you hear me? Hello?”
The injured nocturn twitched, but her eyes remained closed, breathing heavy and labored. Beside her, a satchel lay open, its contents peeking out from inside. One slip of paper has fallen completely out, displaying an ambassador’s insignia. Blood soaked half of the page, the same color as the wax seal. In the blood, a single word stood out in dark ink.
Inara.
Elzbietka snapped branches off the bush until she could access the small dragon. Tearing off a part of her apparel, she bound the nocturn’s wound. Pushing her snout under the dragon, she lifted her over her head and slid her down onto her back until she came to rest on the wide plane of her back, between her wings.
“Don’t worry, little one. I will help you.”