Well imma try something new. Thanks for stopping by!
I had a urge to make and breed blue-tail skink colored dergs and then decided to lore them up.
Figured I was having fun and wanted to share/record their story (and kids) somewhere so here we are!
[center][size=4]Breeding Pair:[/size]
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/66328577][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/663286/66328577.png[/img][/url][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/64915600][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/649157/64915600.png[/img][/url][/center]
[size=4]Currently available:
Well imma try something new. Thanks for stopping by!
I had a urge to make and breed blue-tail skink colored dergs and then decided to lore them up.
Figured I was having fun and wanted to share/record their story (and kids) somewhere so here we are!
Breeding Pair:
Currently available:
[center][size=4]Origins[/size][/center]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/gde/2669851][img]https://i.imgur.com/pWmvURT.png[/img][/url][/center]
The Eternal Cold demands respect. It is ancient and feral and respects those who first show respect. It is the expanse of blinding snow that freezes and burns and gleams like light reflecting off a knife. The crisp air that purifies and lashes with each searing breath. It is ice and frost and deceptively shallow puddles. It is the song howling in the trees. The promise of a blank slate- a new start. A history buried and smothered, the harsh edges softened away into nothing but snowdrifts.The cold is a promise and a threat all rolled into one. It is a call, a yearning. And there is no shame in answering that call. None at all.
The cold is not necessarily malicious. It simply is. It exists. It slumbers and coils and stretches as it dreams. The cold bleeds. It oozes into the gaps between scales and seeps through the warmest pelts until its sharp fingers dig into flesh and sinew and draws blood in kind. It floods into burning lungs and is spat back out into the air in a hot, steaming mist.
To those born of ice, it is a companion. A nest-mate. A danger-threat that pads just a few steps behind waiting for a lowered guard and a chance to pounce. It is the laughter right before the ice splinter-cracks and swallows up a friend- and the nightmares that twist that sound into something unrecognizable. It is the pair of eyes that blink from within the long evening shadow to watch the fire sputter and creak in the cold. It is the distant howl and the heaving pants of wolf packs on the hunt- the hiss of body warm blood streaming in the snow. To those born of ice, the cold shifts and breathes and also yearns for warmth. To those born of ice, the Eternal Cold is a companion. A nest-mate. It is within, yearning to claim that warmth for itself.
To those not born of ice, those who didn’t grow on play-dates with the frost, the Eternal Cold proves to be more dangerous. It hides its danger under a deceptively soft layer of snow and ice and glaring light and it gorges itself of careless steps and hasty travelers. It is a false warmth that hides the true cold: a smothering blanket that claims all those to curl up under it.
Those of ice know of desire. They know the yawning emptiness of hollow stomachs. The cold knows scarcity. It knows hunger. It watched soul-fire flicker and grow dark. It watched its playmates fall and it waited for them to get up again. Waited until the ice thawed and the flowers bloomed and waited until the ice returned. The ice always returns. And then it remembered.
It remembered those not of ice.
It remembered where they fell.
And it remembered that nothing goes to waste in the cold.
The first drakes that crawled from the ground were contradictory. They were blackened from their sleep in the ice and pale as newly fallen snow. They were cold to the touch yet they burned with an inner fire. Their scales were brittle and flaked like snow, but the flesh below was sinewy and taught. They lived through their deaths.
They weren’t born from ice, but their progeny would be. And the Eternal Cold would wait.
Origins
The Eternal Cold demands respect. It is ancient and feral and respects those who first show respect. It is the expanse of blinding snow that freezes and burns and gleams like light reflecting off a knife. The crisp air that purifies and lashes with each searing breath. It is ice and frost and deceptively shallow puddles. It is the song howling in the trees. The promise of a blank slate- a new start. A history buried and smothered, the harsh edges softened away into nothing but snowdrifts.The cold is a promise and a threat all rolled into one. It is a call, a yearning. And there is no shame in answering that call. None at all.
The cold is not necessarily malicious. It simply is. It exists. It slumbers and coils and stretches as it dreams. The cold bleeds. It oozes into the gaps between scales and seeps through the warmest pelts until its sharp fingers dig into flesh and sinew and draws blood in kind. It floods into burning lungs and is spat back out into the air in a hot, steaming mist.
To those born of ice, it is a companion. A nest-mate. A danger-threat that pads just a few steps behind waiting for a lowered guard and a chance to pounce. It is the laughter right before the ice splinter-cracks and swallows up a friend- and the nightmares that twist that sound into something unrecognizable. It is the pair of eyes that blink from within the long evening shadow to watch the fire sputter and creak in the cold. It is the distant howl and the heaving pants of wolf packs on the hunt- the hiss of body warm blood streaming in the snow. To those born of ice, the cold shifts and breathes and also yearns for warmth. To those born of ice, the Eternal Cold is a companion. A nest-mate. It is within, yearning to claim that warmth for itself.
To those not born of ice, those who didn’t grow on play-dates with the frost, the Eternal Cold proves to be more dangerous. It hides its danger under a deceptively soft layer of snow and ice and glaring light and it gorges itself of careless steps and hasty travelers. It is a false warmth that hides the true cold: a smothering blanket that claims all those to curl up under it.
Those of ice know of desire. They know the yawning emptiness of hollow stomachs. The cold knows scarcity. It knows hunger. It watched soul-fire flicker and grow dark. It watched its playmates fall and it waited for them to get up again. Waited until the ice thawed and the flowers bloomed and waited until the ice returned. The ice always returns. And then it remembered.
It remembered those not of ice.
It remembered where they fell.
And it remembered that nothing goes to waste in the cold.
The first drakes that crawled from the ground were contradictory. They were blackened from their sleep in the ice and pale as newly fallen snow. They were cold to the touch yet they burned with an inner fire. Their scales were brittle and flaked like snow, but the flesh below was sinewy and taught. They lived through their deaths.
They weren’t born from ice, but their progeny would be. And the Eternal Cold would wait.
[center][size=4]The First Spawn[/size][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/66328577][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/663286/66328577.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Basah was the first to poke his head out of the snow and he was the first to hear the murmuring voice carried on the wind.
What it said to him, no one knows; Basah finds words difficult on good days and impossible on normal days. Still, he seems convinced that there’s something he has to do and he’s in a constant state of travel.[nextcol][img]https://i.imgur.com/9COMqpn.png[/img][/columns]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/gde/2669851/3#post_39325262][img]https://i.imgur.com/lCMLpQR.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][img]https://i.imgur.com/9COMqpn.png[/img][nextcol]Bleep was born some time later. Unlike Basah, she doesn’t seem to be aware of her situation. At times she seems to forget herself and retreat into a state of feral fight-or-flight where she exists on pure instinct.
Occasionally she wakes up, dotes on her children and mate, then finds a nice sunny spot to curl up in and ignore the time she’s lost. [nextcol][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/64915600][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/649157/64915600.png[/img][/url][/columns]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/gde/2669851/3#post_39325262][img]https://i.imgur.com/lywNGHA.png[/img][/url][/center]
[size=4]Notes:[/size]
* Have no past they can remember
* Rarely speak
* Have little personality of their own
* Always have nest of 5 eggs
The First Spawn
|
|
Basah was the first to poke his head out of the snow and he was the first to hear the murmuring voice carried on the wind.
What it said to him, no one knows; Basah finds words difficult on good days and impossible on normal days. Still, he seems convinced that there’s something he has to do and he’s in a constant state of travel.
|
|
|
|
Bleep was born some time later. Unlike Basah, she doesn’t seem to be aware of her situation. At times she seems to forget herself and retreat into a state of feral fight-or-flight where she exists on pure instinct.
Occasionally she wakes up, dotes on her children and mate, then finds a nice sunny spot to curl up in and ignore the time she’s lost.
|
|
Notes:
* Have no past they can remember
* Rarely speak
* Have little personality of their own
* Always have nest of 5 eggs
[center][size=4]The First Nest[/size][/center]
[center][img]https://flightrising.com/images/nests/6/4healthy_1dead.png[/img][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67219605][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/672197/67219605.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Juniper was the first to hatch and the Eternal Cold would always remember her for that. She grew fast and strong and always kept a wary eye on her hatchmates. That was what the first-born did: they trailed after mom to learn where the tastiest bushes lived and which campfires to avoid. Then they turned around and hassled their siblings until they were all exploring those delightful little nooks and crannies.
That’s just what older siblings did; they learned of danger so that their siblings didn’t have to. They learned which towns would welcome them near the fires and which ones would chase after them with sharpened spears and curses.
She knew they were different. She’d seen the truth in the glares leveled her way and her parents’ milky-off colored eyes. Eyes were the windows to the soul, she’d heard one night as she sat (warm and sleepy with food and the weight of her siblings pressed against her side) listening to the elders share their stories. So then what did it mean that her parents’ eyes held no warmth? No familiarity as they gazed down at her?
It didn’t matter. She’d love her siblings twice, thrice, as much to make up for it.[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67219606][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/672197/67219606.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Whittaker was the eldest boy. He learned to fight. To protect. He followed after his dad and mimicked the way he hid himself in the downy snow with his wide wings. He learned to stalk his prey and to only strike when he was sure of a kill; they didn’t have a pack like other mirrors. They only had each other and their own cunning.
He went on adventures with his siblings and he stood guard as they pranced through the woods chasing after shadows and snow fairies. More often than not he ended up carrying one of his younger sisters back home, her sleepy hums buzzing in his ears.
In some ways carrying home his sister’s slight weight was more satisfying than dragging home the latest hunt. Even if he had to share his dinner and face his father's frown when he avoided hunting days, Whittaker never regretted a moment: there was plenty of food, no matter what his dad said, and his sisters were quickly growing. Soon they'd grow too big to carry and he sincerely hoped that day was still a long time away.[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67219607][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/672197/67219607.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Lumi remembered. She remembered the Eternal Cold and the siren call of windchimes that tinkled in her ear. She remembered hearing her parents’ voices even though her siblings claimed they couldn’t speak.
But, most importantly, she remembered her siblings. All of them. Juniper, Whittaker, Eirlys, and especially Graupel. It seemed like she was the only one who remembered Graupel some days. Which was sad cuz he always had the biggest grin when she’d invite him to play.
Even when the others grew and moved on, she still remembered. And she held those memories close to her chest. They kept her warm in the long winter where it was only herself and her forgotten siblings staving off the cold.
She remembered being alone, once. The howl of the wind brutal and screaming through the dark trees. She’d been lost in the deep shadows, her voice swallowed and smothered. And then Graupel was there, pushing against her shoulder and the flurry of the wind. She’d followed his lead and they’d stumbled home together.
And she’d never forgotten that quiet loyalty. Her siblings had grown and left, but her real family never had.[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67219607][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/672197/67219607.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Eirlys was the baby. She grew up sheltered by her siblings’ wings and she’d never questioned if they were keeping her from their parents’ glassy-eyed stare for a reason or if their adventures happened to stray away from their patrol routes by happistance.
In the end it didn’t really matter: her older siblings were there with warm smiles and bright laughter. And their parents were wraiths at the edges of her vision- cold and aloof as if they were carved from ice.
She only really felt close to her parents in the twilight hours when her siblings were still sleeping. She’d slip away from where they curled close to the smouldering campfire and she’d wander through the snowy woods. When the mood struck she’d pause, head tilted to one side, and build a snowman.
At first they were little more than crude piles of snow pushed together by tiny hands, but they grew more elaborate as she practiced. She’d leave them everywhere- tiny snowdrops to mark her night trails.
And sometimes she’d find her snowmen were no longer alone. Sometimes she’d find her piles of snow sandwiched between larger mounds. Always faceless. Always with far less grace than she’d put into hers- as if they’d been made with stiff fingers that didn’t remember how to move right.
She kept those a secret from her siblings, but she’d walk her trail at night sometimes and smile.[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Graupel was the fifth born. He didn’t realize it, but he was born out of a nest of four eggs. It made him special. It made him unique. It made him invisible to his family and to his friends. It was almost as if he’d never been born in the first place.[/columns]
The First Nest
|
Juniper was the first to hatch and the Eternal Cold would always remember her for that. She grew fast and strong and always kept a wary eye on her hatchmates. That was what the first-born did: they trailed after mom to learn where the tastiest bushes lived and which campfires to avoid. Then they turned around and hassled their siblings until they were all exploring those delightful little nooks and crannies.
That’s just what older siblings did; they learned of danger so that their siblings didn’t have to. They learned which towns would welcome them near the fires and which ones would chase after them with sharpened spears and curses.
She knew they were different. She’d seen the truth in the glares leveled her way and her parents’ milky-off colored eyes. Eyes were the windows to the soul, she’d heard one night as she sat (warm and sleepy with food and the weight of her siblings pressed against her side) listening to the elders share their stories. So then what did it mean that her parents’ eyes held no warmth? No familiarity as they gazed down at her?
It didn’t matter. She’d love her siblings twice, thrice, as much to make up for it.
|
|
Whittaker was the eldest boy. He learned to fight. To protect. He followed after his dad and mimicked the way he hid himself in the downy snow with his wide wings. He learned to stalk his prey and to only strike when he was sure of a kill; they didn’t have a pack like other mirrors. They only had each other and their own cunning.
He went on adventures with his siblings and he stood guard as they pranced through the woods chasing after shadows and snow fairies. More often than not he ended up carrying one of his younger sisters back home, her sleepy hums buzzing in his ears.
In some ways carrying home his sister’s slight weight was more satisfying than dragging home the latest hunt. Even if he had to share his dinner and face his father's frown when he avoided hunting days, Whittaker never regretted a moment: there was plenty of food, no matter what his dad said, and his sisters were quickly growing. Soon they'd grow too big to carry and he sincerely hoped that day was still a long time away.
|
|
Lumi remembered. She remembered the Eternal Cold and the siren call of windchimes that tinkled in her ear. She remembered hearing her parents’ voices even though her siblings claimed they couldn’t speak.
But, most importantly, she remembered her siblings. All of them. Juniper, Whittaker, Eirlys, and especially Graupel. It seemed like she was the only one who remembered Graupel some days. Which was sad cuz he always had the biggest grin when she’d invite him to play.
Even when the others grew and moved on, she still remembered. And she held those memories close to her chest. They kept her warm in the long winter where it was only herself and her forgotten siblings staving off the cold.
She remembered being alone, once. The howl of the wind brutal and screaming through the dark trees. She’d been lost in the deep shadows, her voice swallowed and smothered. And then Graupel was there, pushing against her shoulder and the flurry of the wind. She’d followed his lead and they’d stumbled home together.
And she’d never forgotten that quiet loyalty. Her siblings had grown and left, but her real family never had.
|
|
Eirlys was the baby. She grew up sheltered by her siblings’ wings and she’d never questioned if they were keeping her from their parents’ glassy-eyed stare for a reason or if their adventures happened to stray away from their patrol routes by happistance.
In the end it didn’t really matter: her older siblings were there with warm smiles and bright laughter. And their parents were wraiths at the edges of her vision- cold and aloof as if they were carved from ice.
She only really felt close to her parents in the twilight hours when her siblings were still sleeping. She’d slip away from where they curled close to the smouldering campfire and she’d wander through the snowy woods. When the mood struck she’d pause, head tilted to one side, and build a snowman.
At first they were little more than crude piles of snow pushed together by tiny hands, but they grew more elaborate as she practiced. She’d leave them everywhere- tiny snowdrops to mark her night trails.
And sometimes she’d find her snowmen were no longer alone. Sometimes she’d find her piles of snow sandwiched between larger mounds. Always faceless. Always with far less grace than she’d put into hers- as if they’d been made with stiff fingers that didn’t remember how to move right.
She kept those a secret from her siblings, but she’d walk her trail at night sometimes and smile.
|
|
|
Graupel was the fifth born. He didn’t realize it, but he was born out of a nest of four eggs. It made him special. It made him unique. It made him invisible to his family and to his friends. It was almost as if he’d never been born in the first place.
|
[center][size=4]The Second Nest[/size][/center]
[center][img]https://flightrising.com/images/nests/6/4healthy_1dead.png[/img][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67520467][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/675205/67520467.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Aubin was born ready to explore. Even as his nest-mates were still struggling to open their eyes he was already tottering over the edge of the broken eggs with a soft laugh. The warm, cozy nest that he’d known for all seven minutes of his life was already too small. He turned his nose to the coiling cold and the bright light and he found himself momentarily blinded.
The bitterly cold snow cushioned his first steps and left him gasping for air. The cold was wonderfully familiar. It was like coming home. It was his first taste of frost. Of freedom- of the wilderness and the burning rawness of the great tundra.
It certainly wasn’t the last, though. Even as his mother slunk from the shadows and plucked him back into the nest, he was itching to explore.
Still, he settled into the pile his siblings made with a delighted trill. He was the first to see this new and exciting venue, but he was more than ready to share that wonder. Cold nose and paws pressed against his siblings' sides and he introduced them all to the cold in the only way he knew how.[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67520468][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/675205/67520468.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Olwen hummed as his siblings settled down. They turned to him with wide eyes, grins already spreading over their faces. They’d all found him as they wandered in from wherever they’d been and were more than happy to tell him about their day.
Aubin had found an old bird nest that he’d promptly turned into a hat (and that Quilo was trying to swat off his head as he bragged).
Cole had watched as a half-dozen armored dragons strolled into town and started barking orders. They hadn’t noticed him in the ensuing commotion. He was quick to show Olwen the small dagger he’d pilfered: they both marveled at the sharpness and shine.
And once Quilo had given up on chasing Aubin, he’d shyly shown Olwen the newest corn-husk doll he’d woven. The fact that they shared the same nick in their wings was oddly flattering.
But that was earlier. Now they all looked to him with expectation and baited breath.
“Where was I,” he started.
“The lonely princess realized she wasn’t alone anymore cuz it was almost spring and the flowers were gonna grow,” Quilo offered, squirming a little closer.
Olwen nodded. “Thank you. Spring was indeed on its way, even though the nest left abandoned in the trees would make you think otherwise. But the princess was always watching and she knew her land better than anyone. She knew that the great thawing would leave her land undefended and she’d heard the trees whisper of the visitors starting to move: they tried to be sneaky, but their armor clanked and shimmered and made such a fuss that the trees were roused from their sleep and their anger drifted to her ears…”[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67520469][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/675205/67520469.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Cole spent more time at the edge of town than he did in the patch of land his parents claimed. He didn’t dislike his home, but there was something alluring about the sleepy town that he couldn’t quite place his finger on.
Perhaps it was the easy laughter and conversation that flowed through the icy streets. Perhaps it was the scent of spiced meats and campfire smoke coiling in the air. Though it could be the warmth that spilled out of doorways and caught in the gaps between his scales.
Either way he preferred to crouch, wings wrapped around his frame, in the shadowy gaps between buildings. He breathed in the bustle of the town and catalogued the differences between home and this strange existence. It didn’t take him long to mark patterns and cycles and he’d indulge. He’d creep forward and sneak quick nibbles at passing spice carts or bask a little more fully in a carelessly cracked doorway.
And, when he scampered home one day with a scrap of cloth clenched between his teeth, he was thrilled. It still smelled like bread and he preened as he let that lingering warmth coil around his neck like he’d seen the others do.[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67520470][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/675205/67520470.png[/img][/url]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Being the youngest didn't bother Quilo all that much. Sure he'd appreciate it if his brothers had more time to play, but he made due on his own.
He'd found an abandoned patch of corn and his mother showed him how to fold the dry husks into a vaguely dragon shaped friend.
It took hours- days sometimes- to coax the leaves into the correct shapes. The colors were all wrong, but he'd managed to make lookalikes of his parents, brothers, and a few of the nearby townsfolk that had shared their dinner with him that one time.
Quilo coiled around them at night, one wing draped over them to keep the stray campfire sparks away. And also to keep his brothers away since they liked to steal his toys and hide them just out of reach in the underbrush or on too-high branches. They all swore they hadn't touched them, but he knew better: his toys weren't just getting up and moving themselves, were they?[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
[columns]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]Caldwell wanted nothing more than to play with his siblings. Just once. But they didn’t seem interested in sitting still when he inched closer.
When he reached out a hesitant paw to bat at the soft silk someone had draped over a low branch, their laughter cut off with a sharp breath. He didn’t try that again. And, as they all steadily grew, they soon lost interest in playing altogether.
It wasn’t a loss, Caldwell thought as he eyed the small footprints he didn’t-quite leave in the snow. He’d play by himself if he had too.[/columns]
[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/vKdEoyf.png[/img][/url][/center]
The Second Nest
|
Aubin was born ready to explore. Even as his nest-mates were still struggling to open their eyes he was already tottering over the edge of the broken eggs with a soft laugh. The warm, cozy nest that he’d known for all seven minutes of his life was already too small. He turned his nose to the coiling cold and the bright light and he found himself momentarily blinded.
The bitterly cold snow cushioned his first steps and left him gasping for air. The cold was wonderfully familiar. It was like coming home. It was his first taste of frost. Of freedom- of the wilderness and the burning rawness of the great tundra.
It certainly wasn’t the last, though. Even as his mother slunk from the shadows and plucked him back into the nest, he was itching to explore.
Still, he settled into the pile his siblings made with a delighted trill. He was the first to see this new and exciting venue, but he was more than ready to share that wonder. Cold nose and paws pressed against his siblings' sides and he introduced them all to the cold in the only way he knew how.
|
|
Olwen hummed as his siblings settled down. They turned to him with wide eyes, grins already spreading over their faces. They’d all found him as they wandered in from wherever they’d been and were more than happy to tell him about their day.
Aubin had found an old bird nest that he’d promptly turned into a hat (and that Quilo was trying to swat off his head as he bragged).
Cole had watched as a half-dozen armored dragons strolled into town and started barking orders. They hadn’t noticed him in the ensuing commotion. He was quick to show Olwen the small dagger he’d pilfered: they both marveled at the sharpness and shine.
And once Quilo had given up on chasing Aubin, he’d shyly shown Olwen the newest corn-husk doll he’d woven. The fact that they shared the same nick in their wings was oddly flattering.
But that was earlier. Now they all looked to him with expectation and baited breath.
“Where was I,” he started.
“The lonely princess realized she wasn’t alone anymore cuz it was almost spring and the flowers were gonna grow,” Quilo offered, squirming a little closer.
Olwen nodded. “Thank you. Spring was indeed on its way, even though the nest left abandoned in the trees would make you think otherwise. But the princess was always watching and she knew her land better than anyone. She knew that the great thawing would leave her land undefended and she’d heard the trees whisper of the visitors starting to move: they tried to be sneaky, but their armor clanked and shimmered and made such a fuss that the trees were roused from their sleep and their anger drifted to her ears…”
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Cole spent more time at the edge of town than he did in the patch of land his parents claimed. He didn’t dislike his home, but there was something alluring about the sleepy town that he couldn’t quite place his finger on.
Perhaps it was the easy laughter and conversation that flowed through the icy streets. Perhaps it was the scent of spiced meats and campfire smoke coiling in the air. Though it could be the warmth that spilled out of doorways and caught in the gaps between his scales.
Either way he preferred to crouch, wings wrapped around his frame, in the shadowy gaps between buildings. He breathed in the bustle of the town and catalogued the differences between home and this strange existence. It didn’t take him long to mark patterns and cycles and he’d indulge. He’d creep forward and sneak quick nibbles at passing spice carts or bask a little more fully in a carelessly cracked doorway.
And, when he scampered home one day with a scrap of cloth clenched between his teeth, he was thrilled. It still smelled like bread and he preened as he let that lingering warmth coil around his neck like he’d seen the others do.
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Being the youngest didn't bother Quilo all that much. Sure he'd appreciate it if his brothers had more time to play, but he made due on his own.
He'd found an abandoned patch of corn and his mother showed him how to fold the dry husks into a vaguely dragon shaped friend.
It took hours- days sometimes- to coax the leaves into the correct shapes. The colors were all wrong, but he'd managed to make lookalikes of his parents, brothers, and a few of the nearby townsfolk that had shared their dinner with him that one time.
Quilo coiled around them at night, one wing draped over them to keep the stray campfire sparks away. And also to keep his brothers away since they liked to steal his toys and hide them just out of reach in the underbrush or on too-high branches. They all swore they hadn't touched them, but he knew better: his toys weren't just getting up and moving themselves, were they?
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Caldwell wanted nothing more than to play with his siblings. Just once. But they didn’t seem interested in sitting still when he inched closer.
When he reached out a hesitant paw to bat at the soft silk someone had draped over a low branch, their laughter cut off with a sharp breath. He didn’t try that again. And, as they all steadily grew, they soon lost interest in playing altogether.
It wasn’t a loss, Caldwell thought as he eyed the small footprints he didn’t-quite leave in the snow. He’d play by himself if he had too.
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[center][img]https://flightrising.com/images/nests/6/4healthy_1dead.png[/img][/center]
[columns]
[url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461020][img]https://i.imgur.com/L4hj3Yu.png[/img][/url][nextcol]There were certain things that were expected from the elder child. It was their responsibility to look after their brothers. It was their job to trail after each and every one of them and make sure they didn’t get lost chasing that siren call of the wilderness. It was their job to, somehow, wrangle a handful of restless hatchlings back to the fire every night.
The eldest was not expected to stumble through the ashy twilight shadows searching for their siblings, hoping- praying- that their silent voice would somehow break through the veil. They were not expected to track the faintest footprints- too quickly filling with gusting snow- through the howls of a sudden blizzard. They were not expected to be filled with icy dread as they stumbled upon their nest mates silently huddled together, returned too early to the Eternal Cold.
There were many things an older child was supposed to be, but alone was not one of them.[/columns]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67862510][img]https://i.imgur.com/S7kJKKb.png[/img][/url][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67862511][img]https://i.imgur.com/h2DzVra.png[/img][/url][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67862512][img]https://i.imgur.com/owMSnPO.png[/img][/url][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67862513][img]https://i.imgur.com/mrly3Wa.png[/img][/url][/center]
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There were certain things that were expected from the elder child. It was their responsibility to look after their brothers. It was their job to trail after each and every one of them and make sure they didn’t get lost chasing that siren call of the wilderness. It was their job to, somehow, wrangle a handful of restless hatchlings back to the fire every night.
The eldest was not expected to stumble through the ashy twilight shadows searching for their siblings, hoping- praying- that their silent voice would somehow break through the veil. They were not expected to track the faintest footprints- too quickly filling with gusting snow- through the howls of a sudden blizzard. They were not expected to be filled with icy dread as they stumbled upon their nest mates silently huddled together, returned too early to the Eternal Cold.
There were many things an older child was supposed to be, but alone was not one of them.
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