Dragon Share

2054

July 10, 2018 20:45:27

Hello there!

What am I listening to?
- "Sunny Days" // Armin van Buuren -
Watch this spot for a link to a playlist!

ONLINE | ~~offline~~
- Status Update 1/14/19 -

I'm feeling creative and would love to write a little.

Give me a derg and some lore (or none!) and I'll write you a poem!

I can't promise what style it will be, as my poetry tends to run in all directions.
But I favor prose so that's your best bet.

Due to the fact that I tend to dip in and out of this, I will only be doing orders that really interest me!**

** I will be trying to do all orders now if I can, regardless of inspiration

If you posted before and I did not write for you, feel free to post again saying so and I will write your poem!

Quote:

To order, just ping me @/SkyTreader197 with this form:

Dragon(s):
Lore snippet/brief: if applicable
Mood/theme:
Anything else I should know?:

You may order for multiple dragons at a time. Expect a slight delay for orders with more than two.

Tips are appreciated, but otherwise
there is no charge for poems!

Last edited on Jul 12, 2019 14:06:35 by SkyTreader197

@SkyTreader197 Got a pair here for you! (sorry if I put too much info!) [b]Dragon: [/b][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=4240610] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/42407/4240610_350.png[/img] [/url] [b]Lore snippet/brief:[/b] Ratchet is an accomplished herbalist and mage who uses her skills to enhance her poultices and enchant her tools. Her competence as a medic is highly regarded, and she has taken to traveling from clan to clan, opening up clinics where she can and passing her knowledge on to dragons with a talent or passion for healing. Despite her overall benevolent ambitions, Ratchet is stubborn and quick to temper. She has been nicknamed the Hatchet because she won't hesitate to bite your tail or bat your ears if you anger her. Her grouchiness is almost as well known to other clans as her healing skills. (She'll never ever admit to cuddling with Drift in their nest. Ever.) [b]Anything else I should know?:[/b] She came from a group of dragons locked in a generations-long civil war, and it shows. She is as fierce a fighter as any trained in the Coliseum, and she will not hesitate to go back to her roots when backed into a corner. ------------------------------------- [b]Dragon:[/b] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=4993448] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/49935/4993448_350.png[/img] [/url] [b]Lore snippet/brief:[/b] Drift was once a wanderer. He was born into a destitute and nomadic clan that skirted the territories of two warring groups. However, upon reaching adulthood he left in order to make a name for himself. He joined the ranks of the more ruthless of the two warring factions and clawed his way up the ranks. He earned the title of Deadlock for his troubles, and flourished in the sense of belonging and purpose that it gave him. However, while on a mission in enemy territory, he was poisoned by a Serthis and left for dead. An enemy scout found him barely conscious and brought him back to be healed and interrogated. He was kept away from the main dens for a long time as a precaution, but during his treatment, he fell hard and fast for the fiery medic that was tasked with his recovery. He stayed, and the two grew closer over time (Even if the medic was nothing but irritated with his presence in the beginning. She saw him as naive and a nuisance). Drift eventually swore his sword to her clan, and the two of them have been inseparable ever since. [b]Anything else I should know?:[/b] Drift is also deeply spiritual. He can usually be found meditating in his free time and rises early each morning to see the sunrise in honor of the Lightweaver. He claims that he can see auras, and drives Ratchet crazy with his sometimes outlandish observations. He is playful and easy going, but also more insecure than he lets on. Since Ratchet started her crusade of sorts, Drift has taken on the role of mostly unnecessary bodyguard and mediator for the outspoken healer.

NotQuiteToxic

265

131

574

1782

July 10, 2018 20:58:25

@SkyTreader197
Got a pair here for you! (sorry if I put too much info!)

Dragon:

Lore snippet/brief:

Ratchet is an accomplished herbalist and mage who uses her skills to enhance her poultices and enchant her tools. Her competence as a medic is highly regarded, and she has taken to traveling from clan to clan, opening up clinics where she can and passing her knowledge on to dragons with a talent or passion for healing.

Despite her overall benevolent ambitions, Ratchet is stubborn and quick to temper. She has been nicknamed the Hatchet because she won't hesitate to bite your tail or bat your ears if you anger her. Her grouchiness is almost as well known to other clans as her healing skills. (She'll never ever admit to cuddling with Drift in their nest. Ever.)

Anything else I should know?:

She came from a group of dragons locked in a generations-long civil war, and it shows.
She is as fierce a fighter as any trained in the Coliseum, and she will not hesitate to go back to her roots when backed into a corner.

Dragon:

Lore snippet/brief:

Drift was once a wanderer. He was born into a destitute and nomadic clan that skirted the territories of two warring groups. However, upon reaching adulthood he left in order to make a name for himself. He joined the ranks of the more ruthless of the two warring factions and clawed his way up the ranks. He earned the title of Deadlock for his troubles, and flourished in the sense of belonging and purpose that it gave him. However, while on a mission in enemy territory, he was poisoned by a Serthis and left for dead.

An enemy scout found him barely conscious and brought him back to be healed and interrogated. He was kept away from the main dens for a long time as a precaution, but during his treatment, he fell hard and fast for the fiery medic that was tasked with his recovery. He stayed, and the two grew closer over time (Even if the medic was nothing but irritated with his presence in the beginning. She saw him as naive and a nuisance). Drift eventually swore his sword to her clan, and the two of them have been inseparable ever since.

Anything else I should know?:

Drift is also deeply spiritual. He can usually be found meditating in his free time and rises early each morning to see the sunrise in honor of the Lightweaver. He claims that he can see auras, and drives Ratchet crazy with his sometimes outlandish observations. He is playful and easy going, but also more insecure than he lets on. Since Ratchet started her crusade of sorts, Drift has taken on the role of mostly unnecessary bodyguard and mediator for the outspoken healer.

@NotQuiteToxic

Not a problem at all! I really enjoyed writing for these two. Here's what I've got:

(Hopefully I didn't take too many liberties with their personalities.)

Quote:

Ratchet:

fading. fading and temper and tempered iron,
that’s how i remember him; spineless at the end,
with the wit to match a squirrel.
a hard way to see a man go.
he lingers now, though i would not recognize him
had i not been the one to wrap his starting poultice.
he complains. far too much for one who’s due to pass.
any day now, and he grows louder, like a child always
starving for food. he waits;
for what, i do not know.

sometimes the roots dig too deep. sometimes my mouth
tastes like poison. sometimes i feel like flying when
my feet are six inches in mud.
i should not smell the blood even when i’m sleeping.
ah, my heart--

he dares to question my authority- he asks for a
different medicine, whining, and after once
he knows better. did he train to magery? no.
i don’t think so. he wouldn’t have ended up with
a hole in his stomach if he had. he would have
known better. he would have avoided the blast.

the nights are too full of sound. the days are choked
with trauma and living. today i saved the life of a
mother with child. “if i don’t make it,” she said, heaving
breathlessly on the table, “i want you to cut him out,”
and she coughed and the air was like burning.
she lived. of course, she lived. but
i will never forget the way she shoved herself towards me,
even in her pain, her eyes gaping wide as the sun--
“cut him out,” she said-- though she could not feel her
fingers, her mind had not quite deserted her,
and her first thought was for her child.

my mind darts to Drift. and then i file him away,
carefully; there is a time and place for that,
and it is not here.

laying in bed that night, i think of all the ways i
could have brought him peace.
with all his babbling and foolish talk, he might have
saved his energy. all my enchantments and soothing tonics
and medicines did no good, he was too far gone;
but i did try.

Quote:

Drift:

dust is heavy. only those born to it can truly understand its weight.
it suffocates. it mixes with your blood and your lungs and the sand in
your eyes until you sweat and drool and bleed right through, it does--
mother, just for one more day, let me pass through it and beneath it without
harm. you have never led me astray.
give me just one more day.

he wakes beside her. her body is warm, her glasses folded on the bedside table.
she stirs but doesn’t wake as he rises and dons his armor.
he gives her a kiss before heading outside.
the morning is crisp, the air yet to become heavy with the heat. he rejoices
in the gentle breaks of the sun.
he watches the others as they go about their duties, settling himself on the
stump outside their den. his blade’s in need of cleaning--
he intends to correct that.

i see the lines in her face, mother. they worry me. all of this is worrying.
they do not trust me, i know they don’t-- how could i tell?
i have tried so hard to fit in.
they laugh at my jokes. they suffer my presence. maybe it’s just because of her.

she is a rough, outspoken character. it’s hard to keep her out of trouble.
he suspects she doesn’t need the help, but he tries anyway.
he keeps a close eye on her as she leaves their den and heads for the center
of the camp.
the way she walks, with purpose, with vigor, with just enough sass to repel
those who think her an easy target--
no, she doesn’t need the help, but he enjoys telling her she does.
she catches him looking-- she won’t grin in public.
but she smirks, and turns away, and that is just enough.

sometimes i itch, mother. i miss the sands. i long for the fight.
some days it’s too much.
and others i just feel quiet, and lost, and alone.
and some days i feel so happy and content and i find it hard to reconcile
the two emotions in myself--
you have always been a loyal guide. i trust in your judgement.
so i trust you to guide me this time, too;
my heart, life, always, is yours.

and hers.

SkyTreader197

2054

July 10, 2018 21:28:17

@NotQuiteToxic

Not a problem at all! I really enjoyed writing for these two. Here's what I've got:

(Hopefully I didn't take too many liberties with their personalities.)

Quote:

Ratchet:

fading. fading and temper and tempered iron,
that’s how i remember him; spineless at the end,
with the wit to match a squirrel.
a hard way to see a man go.
he lingers now, though i would not recognize him
had i not been the one to wrap his starting poultice.
he complains. far too much for one who’s due to pass.
any day now, and he grows louder, like a child always
starving for food. he waits;
for what, i do not know.

sometimes the roots dig too deep. sometimes my mouth
tastes like poison. sometimes i feel like flying when
my feet are six inches in mud.
i should not smell the blood even when i’m sleeping.
ah, my heart--

he dares to question my authority- he asks for a
different medicine, whining, and after once
he knows better. did he train to magery? no.
i don’t think so. he wouldn’t have ended up with
a hole in his stomach if he had. he would have
known better. he would have avoided the blast.

the nights are too full of sound. the days are choked
with trauma and living. today i saved the life of a
mother with child. “if i don’t make it,” she said, heaving
breathlessly on the table, “i want you to cut him out,”
and she coughed and the air was like burning.
she lived. of course, she lived. but
i will never forget the way she shoved herself towards me,
even in her pain, her eyes gaping wide as the sun--
“cut him out,” she said-- though she could not feel her
fingers, her mind had not quite deserted her,
and her first thought was for her child.

my mind darts to Drift. and then i file him away,
carefully; there is a time and place for that,
and it is not here.

laying in bed that night, i think of all the ways i
could have brought him peace.
with all his babbling and foolish talk, he might have
saved his energy. all my enchantments and soothing tonics
and medicines did no good, he was too far gone;
but i did try.

Quote:

Drift:

dust is heavy. only those born to it can truly understand its weight.
it suffocates. it mixes with your blood and your lungs and the sand in
your eyes until you sweat and drool and bleed right through, it does--
mother, just for one more day, let me pass through it and beneath it without
harm. you have never led me astray.
give me just one more day.

he wakes beside her. her body is warm, her glasses folded on the bedside table.
she stirs but doesn’t wake as he rises and dons his armor.
he gives her a kiss before heading outside.
the morning is crisp, the air yet to become heavy with the heat. he rejoices
in the gentle breaks of the sun.
he watches the others as they go about their duties, settling himself on the
stump outside their den. his blade’s in need of cleaning--
he intends to correct that.

i see the lines in her face, mother. they worry me. all of this is worrying.
they do not trust me, i know they don’t-- how could i tell?
i have tried so hard to fit in.
they laugh at my jokes. they suffer my presence. maybe it’s just because of her.

she is a rough, outspoken character. it’s hard to keep her out of trouble.
he suspects she doesn’t need the help, but he tries anyway.
he keeps a close eye on her as she leaves their den and heads for the center
of the camp.
the way she walks, with purpose, with vigor, with just enough sass to repel
those who think her an easy target--
no, she doesn’t need the help, but he enjoys telling her she does.
she catches him looking-- she won’t grin in public.
but she smirks, and turns away, and that is just enough.

sometimes i itch, mother. i miss the sands. i long for the fight.
some days it’s too much.
and others i just feel quiet, and lost, and alone.
and some days i feel so happy and content and i find it hard to reconcile
the two emotions in myself--
you have always been a loyal guide. i trust in your judgement.
so i trust you to guide me this time, too;
my heart, life, always, is yours.

and hers.

[img]https://zippy.gfycat.com/HealthyTeemingAllensbigearedbat.gif[/img] @SkyTreader197 Amazing as always, thank you so much!!

NotQuiteToxic

265

131

574

1782

July 10, 2018 21:34:55

@SkyTreader197
Amazing as always, thank you so much!!

@SkyTreader197 How do you do fellow Sky cx Those poems are hella rad I'd love to get one for this lil nugget! Dragon(s): [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43219673] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/432197/43219673_350.png[/img] [/url] Lore snippet/brief: His lore is pending lmao but it's basically him being trapped in a tar pit as a hatchling, being found by a dragon, brought back to life by another dragon and then given prosthetics and medical care from two other dragons. He's relearning how to be alive I guess, so he's kinda like Astro Boy. Anything else I should know?: He's named after the La Breya tarpits. He's quite quiet for a hatchling but still curious, though he doesn't really like the boggier parts of the Labyrinth (for good reason). He's developed a sixth sense for finding lost things and dragons, kinda like a kindred spirit sort of deal. He's pretty small so he can fit into smaller spaces too.

Skydust

632

449

1207

8828

July 10, 2018 21:36:37

@SkyTreader197 How do you do fellow Sky cx Those poems are hella rad I'd love to get one for this lil nugget!

Dragon(s):

Lore snippet/brief: His lore is pending lmao but it's basically him being trapped in a tar pit as a hatchling, being found by a dragon, brought back to life by another dragon and then given prosthetics and medical care from two other dragons. He's relearning how to be alive I guess, so he's kinda like Astro Boy.

Anything else I should know?: He's named after the La Breya tarpits. He's quite quiet for a hatchling but still curious, though he doesn't really like the boggier parts of the Labyrinth (for good reason). He's developed a sixth sense for finding lost things and dragons, kinda like a kindred spirit sort of deal. He's pretty small so he can fit into smaller spaces too.

@NotQuiteToxic

You're welcome! Your comment made me smile. ^^ Warm and fuzzies for days.

@Skydust

Yo fellow Sky-friend! Thanks for the compliment, I'll try something out for your little guy. :)

SkyTreader197

2054

July 10, 2018 21:38:48

@NotQuiteToxic

You're welcome! Your comment made me smile. ^^ Warm and fuzzies for days.

@Skydust

Yo fellow Sky-friend! Thanks for the compliment, I'll try something out for your little guy. :)

@Skydust

How's this work?

Quote:

Brea:

his name means DARKNESS, and SOFTNESS, and SUCK;
WEEPING, SOLITUDE, DESPERATION, and WOE--
but also SEARCHING, and that is the most familiar.

the most ancient of races crossed the universe in search of a
better life-- their children will not remember the journey,
but today’s children grow up faster, brighter, sooner-- some
too soon.
he is one.
he wakes.

the child is small, sickly, but lord can he RUN.
his legs are not his own, his organs struggle, but his MIND,
his SOUL, his soul is in his metal legs, his iron mind,
and he uses it like no one else does.
eyes as big as saucers, he’s there one second and gone the next,
devouring everything like an old man starved.
sometimes he forgets to breathe and topples over like a domino,
but bounces back up again immediately,
and darts off in search of new adventure.

he rarely talks but who needs to talk when you can FLY.
bright as a penny, sharp as a whistle, he speaks up only
to shock the world.
procuring a bottle, or jewel or part
thought lost forever, with a beaming smile, he receives
a pat on the head before departing, never in one place for too long.
perhaps he remembers the pit, a little,
and its shadow follows his footsteps.
maybe he remembers the smell of the tar, and it haunts him
when he sleeps.
or maybe he remembers and does not care--
surely the ones he sniffs out don’t mind being brought back to town
by a cripple-- where they could not find their way, he knows all ways,
and nothing escapes his gaze.

he dreams of FIRE, and STICKING, and HOLES.
but he wakes and his body is ALIVE, ALIVE
and the dreams fade to mist in its wake.

SkyTreader197

2054

July 10, 2018 21:48:18

@Skydust

How's this work?

Quote:

Brea:

his name means DARKNESS, and SOFTNESS, and SUCK;
WEEPING, SOLITUDE, DESPERATION, and WOE--
but also SEARCHING, and that is the most familiar.

the most ancient of races crossed the universe in search of a
better life-- their children will not remember the journey,
but today’s children grow up faster, brighter, sooner-- some
too soon.
he is one.
he wakes.

the child is small, sickly, but lord can he RUN.
his legs are not his own, his organs struggle, but his MIND,
his SOUL, his soul is in his metal legs, his iron mind,
and he uses it like no one else does.
eyes as big as saucers, he’s there one second and gone the next,
devouring everything like an old man starved.
sometimes he forgets to breathe and topples over like a domino,
but bounces back up again immediately,
and darts off in search of new adventure.

he rarely talks but who needs to talk when you can FLY.
bright as a penny, sharp as a whistle, he speaks up only
to shock the world.
procuring a bottle, or jewel or part
thought lost forever, with a beaming smile, he receives
a pat on the head before departing, never in one place for too long.
perhaps he remembers the pit, a little,
and its shadow follows his footsteps.
maybe he remembers the smell of the tar, and it haunts him
when he sleeps.
or maybe he remembers and does not care--
surely the ones he sniffs out don’t mind being brought back to town
by a cripple-- where they could not find their way, he knows all ways,
and nothing escapes his gaze.

he dreams of FIRE, and STICKING, and HOLES.
but he wakes and his body is ALIVE, ALIVE
and the dreams fade to mist in its wake.

@SkyTreader197 Dragon: [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=23196207] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/231963/23196207_350.png[/img] [/url] Lore Snippet/Brief: I haven't really fleshed out his lore so feel free to get creative! I have him as a tropical Prince of the Isles, but he's very carefree and joyful and would rather eat and hoard fruit. He is also a bit of a daredevil and has random moments of princely wisdom~ Anything else I should know?: That your work is the best oh my gosh.

NeveFox

0

74

237

884

July 10, 2018 21:55:07

@SkyTreader197

Dragon:

Lore Snippet/Brief: I haven't really fleshed out his lore so feel free to get creative! I have him as a tropical Prince of the Isles, but he's very carefree and joyful and would rather eat and hoard fruit. He is also a bit of a daredevil and has random moments of princely wisdom~

Anything else I should know?: That your work is the best oh my gosh.

_{NeveFox | She/Her

18 | +2 FR | Bi}

~~~~~~~

Last edited on Jul 10, 2018 21:55:44 by NeveFox

@SkyTreader197 That's so precious <3 <3 <3

Payment inbound ;)

Skydust

632

449

1207

8828

July 10, 2018 21:56:35

@SkyTreader197 That's so precious <3 <3 <3

Payment inbound ;)

@Skydust

Thanks! :) Ooh thank you. ~

@NeveFox

Thank you! ^^ I really appreciate the compliment.

Here's what I've got for your boy:

Quote:

Royal:

did you know that the distance between the top of that tree to the beach
is exactly 36 feet? how do i know? um, i checked.
no, i didn’t jump. that would be stupid. i USED a ruler.
of course i had a spotter. why do you even have to ask?
yes, i’ll be more careful. mhm. i know. “breakable bones.”
i’ll have you know, i’m strictly on the mediterranean diet and it’s very
good for you. strong bones. big muscles. here, see? wanna feel?
where are you going?!

glittering. the first word you can think would describe such a creature.
handsome, sure. brilliant, possibly. colorful, absolutely.
but, glittering… that’s the most accurate.
his personality fills a room. delighted, constantly; flitting from dragon
to dragon, striking up conversations with strangers, offering them food
and wine and gifts, handmade presents, precious shells and ornaments
for their wings--
strangers might call him an airhead. but the island’s residents know better.

the cunning in his eyes is the first thing you’d notice after more than five
minutes in his presence. he laughs, he smiles, he flourishes a wine glass
like it was born in his hand. he navigates social events like a top-class rig
on the high seas-- flawless. effortless. beautiful.
but he pays attention to all things, and when he must sober for but an instant,
dispensing a single sharp comment to a rude attendee, or cleverly berating
a youth who’s run afoul of his parent--
then you see the true intelligence in him, and his sparkling eyes hide no more
secrets-- or perhaps far more than you imagined.

here, try a pear-- they’re really quite good. they didn’t grow here natively,
but i had some imported, and OH MY GOD they took to the soil like flies
to a… well, a fruit. and you wouldn’t imagine how popular they are--
OI. get DOWN from there. you’ll fall and break your neck and then what will
your mother have to say.
oh, i’m sorry. where were we? ah yes, my pears. you see, i got them from--

he might be a bit of a handful. he may be hard to work with when he’s got
an idea in his head. but he’s well-meaning, and kind, and warm at the center,
underneath all that rouge and feathers.
he has few enemies, and an entire Isle of friends, and if that doesn’t say
something, you’re not sure what would.

SkyTreader197