Forum Games

[center]@Dynami[br] [b]let me tell you, i had some trouble picking! i love your lore, and you have so many pretty dragons!! now then…[/b][br] [columns] [b]Raskaya[/b], a Windborn healer, and a dragon of few words? [nextcol] [img] https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/453234/45323335_350.png[/img] [/columns][br] [columns] [img] https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/279143/27914234_350.png[/img] [nextcol] …it seems [b]Markelle[/b] has found a kindred spirit. [/columns][br] * * * * * [br] Even in the winter’s chill, where the typical bluster of her home flight reached a freezing crescendo as it blasted up from the south…the gusts parting through her sleek, sapphire fur and catching in her thick, woolen garb lit something warm and nostalgic in Markelle’s chest. It felt like coming home…which wasn’t far from the truth, despite her years-long allegiance to the Tidelord’s children. The healer seldom traveled alone anymore, but Hawthorne was tied up in tending the injuries of the resident berserker. Never, she mused, an easy project, when the Mirror felt no pain and let herself take blow after blow until she was physically incapable of fighting… A small part of the Skydancer had to admire her tenacity, but the timing of her departure from the clan right as the coliseum team returned was hardly a coincidence. She did miss her apprentice’s quiet company, though, as well as his bulk—the Pearlcatcher’s larger frame tended to block the swifter and more dangerous currents when they traveled side-by-side. Nonetheless, the clan’s chickweed and feverfew stores were worryingly low, and she wasn’t quite sure when she’d be able to make the trip over from the Sea again in the near future. The Ascent was proving more treacherous than she remembered—it wasn’t the crumbling steps that worried her as much as the gaps she had to jump, with her fatigued muscles already disadvantaged by rustiness. And…though inevitable, it still sent a stab of panic through her when she leapt from the ruins of a once-beautiful staircase, relying only on her exhausted wings to carry her to the next bamboo-lined ledge. It happened quickly—a gust snagged her feathers and twisted her wing askew, sending the Skydancer slamming into the face of the cliff. Angry, throbbing pain erupted through Markelle’s shoulder and wing, and she was helpless to do anything but cry out in shock. And just like that, she was plummeting down, down, down, her vision blurring as she fell… * * * When she came to, Markelle’s instinct as a healer struck quickly. Sending a quiet prayer to the Windsinger, she clenched each of her paws and flicked her tail. [i]Nothing spinal. Good.[/i] She flared her wings without thinking, stretching and twisting, when she suddenly felt a tug to her right. “Hold still.” The voice was quiet and authoritative, but not angry, and Markelle startled. She supposed if the dragon were hostile she’d be long dead, or wounded moreso than she already was…but still, she honestly had no idea if she was trespassing. The healer whirled around, ignoring the strain in her neck and flattening her feather crest in fear…and found herself beak-to-beak with another of her breed. A female, eyes spring-green like her own and her coat sleek and patterned, adorned with crystals and pearls. Markelle could detect scents of licorice and rotted leaves of the wind. [i]She’s chosen a different flight, as well.[/i] No Wind flight dragon carried the Shadowbinder’s scent so surely in their feathers; a fact that comforted her. So, at least if she was trespassing…she wasn’t the only one. Quickly, Markelle gave her surroundings a once-over. She lay sprawled on a moderately-sized cliff ledge, teeming with reeds, with a single wing propped on a smooth boulder. Dull pain reverberated through the side of her ribcage, and she glanced down to see that her hind paw had been bandaged. The stranger was huddled next to the apex joint of her elevated wing, unspooling a swathe of linen with a furrowed brow. She lifted her bandaged foot, looking up at the Skydancer in mild confusion, and the stranger did not look up to respond. “Caught a few reeds when you fell, you had a couple of scrapes. Could have been a deadly mistake. Didn’t think it’d be a fellow Windborn I’d have to patch up...” The other’s words were curt, just louder than a murmur, but not harsh. Feeling a small sting of shame, Markelle ducked her head. “Haven’t been here alone in quite a while. I usually have a larger dragon with me to block the stronger currents…” She shook her head, a wry smile crossing her face. “Suppose the Windsinger took pity on me.” Her companion only offered a quiet chuckle in response as she gently took Markelle’s wing in her claws, eliciting a wince from the Skydancer. “Sprained,” they said in unison, before gawking at each other. Markelle could only balk at the other dragon. Of course she was a healer, that much was obvious by the impromptu medical care, but…it didn’t detract from the humor of the situation. The other dragon studied her face evenly, raising an eyebrow at her, and then returned to tightly wrapping the delicate arm of her wing. Markelle could all but hear the snarky response: [i]a Windborn healer, no less? And you didn’t know better than to do this by yourself while tired?[/i] She could only lay her head back down—there wasn’t much use in fighting it, she figured. Truly, she wouldn’t have even tried were the clan not nearly out of a few base ingredients crucial to many of her day-to-day remedies. Several minutes passed in silence as her healer worked, folding her wing this way and that in order to ensure the wrap compressed the joint, before Markelle chanced a question. “…did you see what happened?” “No.” The other Skydancer shook her head, glancing up at Markelle briefly. “But one doesn’t need to be a genius to piece it together.” She lifted her chin, gesturing toward the spiraling staircases and sheer cliffs that towered above them. “I happened to be passing by and saw you lying here.” [i]Okay, one less thing to be embarrassed about, then,[/i] Markelle thought. Her timid nature lent her a sense of humiliation at being placed at the mercy of the other’s capable claws, but at least her healer had not witnessed her being blown around like a squawking leaf in the wind. “What’s your name?” It was less small talk and more because she simply wished to know. The other’s paws paused a moment, putting gentle pressure against her wing. She could feel those clear eyes on her face, but didn’t meet them. “…Raskaya. And yours?” “Markelle,” she replied simply. “Thank you, Raskaya, for helping me. You certainly didn’t have to…but if you weren’t here, I’d be quite stranded, I think.” Raskaya’s feather crest ruffled the slightest bit as she fastened the bindings that now held Markelle’s wing folded shut, compressing the injured joint. “As a healer, isn’t there a degree of obligation to help? Were I in your position, wouldn’t you have helped me? Or are things different in the Water flight?” Ah. She must’ve smelled the seawater, then. Despite deducing Raskaya’s home flight in the same way, Markelle blushed a bit, drawing her wings in closer to her body as something small and nervous fluttered in her stomach. She let out a short laugh, swallowing a shake in her voice. “…I suppose you’re right.” With a grunt, Markelle heaved herself to her paws as the lighter dragon scooted backwards, allowing her some room to orient herself. The pain in her side from where she collided with the rock was still very much making itself known, but had dwindled to a deep, gnawing ache from its previous sharpness. Fortunately, the skin of her hind paw was still pleasantly numb from what smelled like a honey and rosemary ointment. She pulled her wing mantle back over the wrapped portion with a sigh. “…don’t suppose I’ll make it back to the Sea tonight, then,” she muttered, frustrated. Raskaya huffed out a quiet laugh in response. “You don’t need me to tell you this, but rest is the best way to nurse a sprain.” There was a twinge of sympathy in her shrewd eyes, and Markelle realized with a start that this was her first time really [i]seeing[/i] the dragon who had helped her. She was the slightest bit shorter than Markelle, wider in wingspan and slighter in figure but sporting similar fur patterns. Her eyes, despite their calculating edge, were a healer’s eyes. There was a warmth beneath the quiet that Markelle could bask in. And then, recognizing that she was staring, the Skydancer quickly turned her attention over the side of the cliff where they sat. The height made her stomach turn, especially with a non-functional wing…but the wind had calmed itself to a light breeze, and the domain of the Windsinger stretched out before her. “I, ah…” she started, sneaking a glance. “Hate to inconvenience you like this. Really, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. But if you need to get home…you probably should. It’ll be dark soon. I’ll be okay.” She sat in the scrubby grass that coated the ledge, facing the open sky. To her surprise, the other rose to her paws. “Flew all this way, I may as well stay a bit. I’ve been away long enough that open land feels like new scenery.” Raskaya padded over to sit next to Markelle, either oblivious to her newfound attraction or gracious enough to pretend she didn’t notice. Together, they gazed out over the side of the bluff, silent as the wind whistled and sang through the reeds. The sun was meeting the horizon in an explosion of flame and rosy-pink now, bathing the kingdom in golden light. Markelle closed her eyes, if only to prevent them from betraying the softness that bubbled up inside her. * * * [b][s]holy ellipses, batman![/s] i hope i did your beautiful girl justice, and that you enjoy the read!!! <3 quiet dragons are fun to write, because i can’t always use dialogue as a crutch, haha— ——— [b][i]next person, helios the pearlcatcher, non-canon tab, and sales tab are off limits! everyone else in my lair and hibden are fair game, mate or not! if sexuality isn’t listed, anything goes! ——- [i]@Grail Just a little reminder!! No pressure, I’m just excited to see what you write ;o;

Wip!!!! [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/38311975][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/383120/38311975_350.png[/img][/url] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/26368591][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/263686/26368591_350.png[/img][/url] Themes + notes so I don’t forget what I’m writing tomorrow. - wing man - shared trauma over unreality - Cameo gets some sweets for his partners, meets Salvador and notices the little signs of something going on - They have a talk - it’s awkward. Cameo doesn’t really get why he keeps going but does so anyways. - Salvador’s pretty unreadable through this but he’s nervous too??? So many friends with trauma - talk about their love lives. Cameo gives relationship advice - yes this counts as a flirt. Look I just really like your entire lore is really hard to choose ONE dragon and hhh I love Salvador and his circle of friends and the spirits, and like… his crush and Lunaria’s story!!! It’s hard to decide in your lair it’s goddamn massive and all the little tidbits and bios you have are amazing I wish I could write multiple flirts but my lair lore didn’t exist. --------- Next person: Please assume all my dragons are bisexual unless stated otherwise, and only pick from the tabs labelled [permas] (Should be in hibden + Lair] Otherwise everyone is free game! :D My lore is severely wip im sorry for the lack of options!

@Grail [This is a real whopper and I'll continue it in my reply to Tigres, if you're curious about what all goes down!] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/48853543][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/488536/48853543_350.png[/img][/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGkh1W5cbH4][emoji=music note size=1][/url] [i] Black dirt, white eyes My red palms rubbing My gold cup scrubbing I AM COMING I AM COMING [/i] Much as he hated the moon-mad pack of hunter-hunters, Rove couldn't not admire his pursuer's endurance. The dog could carry a tune, to be sure, and that was [i]some [/i]lung capacity to be doing it during a flat-out race from hock to rock, the bristling Expanse now to coast-crusty Dragonhome, and not for just any old bounty but the arguable honor of his own bloody-minded convictions. [i]Well whatever[/i], the guardian snorted and sat upon a sun-hot rock to scan the horizon. He'd waved raggedier flags in his youth, and no wine-reeking, cackle-jacked birdbrain would outdo him, the Rake of Red Rock Cove, built and brassy as a snapper-bull in rut, and blistered by his mother's black eye, at The Hunt. [i]O Moon I offer you the oldest drink there is, O Moon I offer you the oldest food there is,[/i] Rove had made his very last mistake long, long ago-- and paid for it, twice over, as his wing-- wing[i]stumps[/i], evidenced. The buffalo-big fir that opened out his spine, which had fused its fatal fractures even as it crippled him, now rasped to him the wind's parlance: more of that backwater caterwaul--which he acknowledged must mount the terrors of littler, more rabbity sorts of drakes; i.e. not him--the trill of gulls and the mineral caulk of catacombs, the cinnamonny and sour-musk sneer of his adversary... Rove rolled his eyes at the cult's histrionics, incense included-- [i]O wailers taken from your truth I offer you Your hunters' blood Be still, you I AM COMING Listen close, you I AM HERE[/i] --then broke a bit of eternal ice from his paws to crunch over. That was a curse, sure, but the ice'd sure saved his bacon in the desert-- his and his Charge's, the light of his life, a wee fey-thing called Armaghan who napped away much of the day in Rove's wintry fir-fur or the dandelion-padded satchel at his throat. It was nothing to offer a chip to relieve his dear friend, too. [i]I AM COMING I AM HERE [/i] Nothing at all, Rove thought and continued to think, unable to parse the meaning of an empty satchel; of his silent, shivering branches without even little Armaghan's fireflies. Like a golden thread unraveling ever further out of hand, the fireflies shone, faint but sure, way back the way he'd come. But all Rove could see, when the thieving dog's mock-cant went up again over barren vastness, was red. ----- [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/50417600][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/504177/50417600_350.png[/img][/url] Wairen's first impression of the Plaguer hadn't been favorable, but he'd have been a sight even if he was a fellow Windy: the guardian was so mucky his beard had fruiting brambles. It'd been on the tip of her tongue to outright refuse fare, even if he bled coin, but Waverly, in all her avian avarice and opportunism, imprinted on him as a prime vacation roost. Wairen very particularly appreciated her mask during that bit of comedy, and that her goatish eyes rarely betrayed any recognizable amusement, as the Weaver commenced a tour of her new real estate with happy, meditative groks. "Hm," she said. "No wings of your own, I see." "Hm," he replied, as Waverly looted his beard for exotic nesting materials. "That's the joke." What the hell, she'd thought. He didn't ping any bounties and she'd had stranger passengers, never mind the blasted crew. * The ship scudded along by moonlight, in and out of clouds as thin and wild as witch-hair. It was inconsistent cover, but consistently [i]there[/i] at least. On deck, the wind bit and whistled like a Boreal Elk. To Wairen, it registered as pleasant. Perhaps to Rove, a Plaguer who advertised his military severance more physically than most, it registered not at all. She knew some veterans who were numb to elemental magic; who could not feel the breeze, could not smell the rain or earth or even a flower. They all looked like he did now--gazing out and down below with no trouble about the height, like it wasn't the least bit real--like the Howl had swallowed them up, licked its chops, and said, [i]Now. Now cry, if you can. Now, when there is truly nothing left.[/i] Wairen had some practice in putting it aside, and did so with typical brusqueness. "Gonna disembark early?" Rove snorted. "Not before these eggs hatch, so they can ferry me down faster and cheaper than your bloated blimp." Waverly likely preened where she was, barricaded by the black boughs of this enormous tree that seemed to grow its dragon. "Hah." Against her better (her worse?) nature, Wairen liked him anyway, tree and all. You could almost smell it on them sometimes-- Dominance, and moreover the ones among them who properly and purely resented it. His history was as salty as the sea; black crags and bloody surf like bile. She didn't have to ask, but sometimes the wound within could only stop running and rest when it had another at its back; someone who knew what it was because they knew how it hurt. "Drink with me, vet." It was still an invitation, take it or leave it. "Unless you plaguey lot only have the taste for blood and sweat." He came out of the gullet, out of the grips of it, and she was afraid he might tell her everything. That she [i]wanted [/i]him to, even if it meant she told him [i]her [/i]everything, too. But he wouldn't; and she wouldn't, even if he did. Wairen placed the stained cups between them on the deck, always with its cheerful wood-lumping thump-sound under her touch, and filled a small saucer for Waverly. "Everything's blood and sweat," Rove replied, but gamely enough, and accepted a mug in careful claws. "True enough," Wairen smirked. "Truer today 'cause that's brewed with your frosty flakes, on behalf of our young cook." "Cook or scientist?" Rove sniffed for poison despite the unassuming contents, but it was really only a nice hot drink with lots of little pink marshmallows. Wairen didn't take preservative habits personally and Waverly paid them even less mind, lighting on deck and diving beak-first into "cursed"-ice cocoa. "She's not clear on the difference yet, if there's one." "That makes two of us." Rove stirred his drink with a claw and she sipped hers, watching him. It'll come out now, she thought. [i]He'll tell me about the war. About this Charge he's Searching for so-- so dutifully, then I...[/i] But the wind filled the space up again between them, and it was cold; but that was fine, better than fine, with a hot drink. When Rove didn't answer, and Wairen didn't ask, about their duties, shared or not, it didn't sting any more than it always had. Even if they didn't talk, she thought, about the hurt, it was still better. Still better just sitting with someone, back to back; resting, watching, but not for the enemy. Just with each other. "Yeah," she said. [i]Two of us. [/i] Waverly grokked again, a bit on the burpy side, and took off. Rove's red eyes were awful in the night but not so bad, not so bad after all. She noticed one of Nellie's marshmallows stuck in his beard as he grinned and twirled a shed feather. "Or three." [For the next person, please pick characters from the hatchery, coli, inn, or hibden. Lots of my characters don't have lore, but they got a look to build on! Feel free to go nuts with 'em. XD]

[center][b]@MineralTownNPC[br] here we are!! hmm…might have to cop your style of flirt-writing for this one, i do love writing from multiple perspectives! hope you enjoy [emoji=familiar heart size=1][/b][br] [center] [img] https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/383120/38311975_350.png[/img] [br][br] The day’s events had left the Imperial feeling quite ragged, even raw—as though his very core had been bared and dragged over the molten shards that lie hidden and dangerous in the sand of the Expanse. They were so close, [i]so[/i] close to the end, close to a goal that over the years felt more and more fruitless. Even as the souls had been exhumed from between his rotten scales, the number in his body leaping from one to six to three to four to only two…just himself and whatever stubbornly stuck itself to the deepest recesses of his consciousness. Whatever lurked deep enough inside him that three rituals had been for naught but to put Salvador through agony, stirring the irritation of the unyielding soul but never successfully detaching it. It was exhausting, yes. But the slightest relief was offered by Monroe’s refreshingly useful recommendation; despite the Plaguelands’ distance in his past, the swelter brought a bit of strength breathing back into his muscles. While it wasn’t the Boneyard’s broiling feverishness, the deity of Fire did quite enough. More than the absent deity that presided over his own clan, anyway, the one that wove the stench of salt together with the pain of exorcism. The heated basalt was a welcome respite against his chest and cheek, and the flight was only half of what it would have been had he made the trek to his homeland. He lie undisturbed for quite a while, ears pricked as he let the incessant churning of the Furnace lull him into a trancelike state of dozing. The visions that danced behind his slit-pupiled eyes were hazy as the sky above, and nonsensical—dreams of a glass-smooth ocean beneath his claws as he soared…the water was so still it could have been— [i]A mirror?[/i] …no, no, that couldn’t be. With a grunt, Salvador rolled his great body upright and lifted his head, squinting out into the distance. Undoubtedly, there was a large figure passing him by—a Guardian, dark and determined, her head low and wary as she prowled the obsidian horizon. And, sure enough, even from here…something menacing and pleased scratched at the outsides of his thoughts, like a shadow permanently anchored in his peripheral. Another like him. Rather than interest or excitement, however, a burn of annoyance settled low in Salvador’s belly. It was only earlier that day that Salvador had entered those dreaded catacombs, reeking of seawater and old stone and Shade, to greet the Exorcist for their session. The Bogsneak had hemmed and hawed, spilling that he’d perhaps detected another like Salvador in the surrounding territories before Salvador could so much as raise an eyebrow, felt it in his sturdy, scorched bones. Icarus had explained how his radar for spiritual oddities had worked to the Imperial in the past, but…alas, anything that involved that crypt was forcefully swallowed away into harder-to-access places in his brain. Zoran called it repression. Salvador called it tranquility. [i]And who was it that sent me here?[/i] Salvador’s ears flattened crossly, and he huffed out a sigh. He rued the little Spiral-spirit’s recommendation; of [i]course[/i] he had been lured into cooperation by the prospect of another multi-souled dragon. [i]That lazy Plague-pustule.[/i] Stealth did not become one of his size, but perhaps his ghastliness deluded him—he felt as a shadow, anyway. The Imperial lugged himself to his paws and began to walk, slow and rolling, head low to the ground. Sure enough, the soul that shared his body shuddered in excitement, waking up within him and stirring until his eyes were glassy for the briefest of moments. [i]Let me see,[/i] something quiet and demanding rasped in his ear. Sure enough, he could confirm, as the Imperial came to once more. Another of two souls, just two…but no rotten scales. No feathers, no fangs, only speckled scales and a focused furrow in her roughscaled brow. The truth of the matter puzzled Salvador; after all, it wasn’t the exorcisms that left him corrupted, but the souls themselves…that’d been a truth he’d been fed, anyway, by the tattered remains of that blasted Bogsneak. The spirit-arsonist, whose hollow mask alone was enough to send something mangled and afraid slithering through his chest. Well. He could understand Monroe’s early fascination with him, he supposed, as his leathered paws seemingly moved of their own accord. [img] https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/dressing-room/dragon?did=41395468&skin=22718&apparel=20595,362,814,768,26853,20571,26855,434,5399,2850,20598,21844,15302,7684&xt=dressing.png[/img][br][br] It had been ages since she’d returned to the heart of the Waste, within half a day’s flight of the Furnace itself. For whatever reason, Val had opted to venture into nothing but heat and smog, rough against her paws and lungs alike. Unlike her lordly brothers, the Flamecaller left nothing decrepit in her land for the Guardian to prowl after the sunset, made invisible by the torrents of smoke that choked the sky; no, this deity opted to burn anything fallen into disrepair straight to ash, despite any ancient significance. Onward, upward, or straight to hell; that was the way of the Mother of Flame. Which, the Guardian supposed, was certainly one way to contend with one’s history. However, even She was wont to miss a few spots…and years, lifetimes, of searching for hidden clutches had trained Val’s sharp russet eyes. The Waste wasn’t as barren as its patron deity would have others believe, and there lurked ruins and secrets alike carved into the underbelly of the obsidian. Ruins, she thought with glee, like this one—the barest break in the smoothness of the ground, the echoes of her footsteps betraying what she was certain was a cavern beneath the surface. All she needed to find was the entrance… …and when she did stumble upon it, the Guardian could only blink at the gargantuan form sprawled at the cavern’s mouth. An Imperial, and a large one at that, mostly hidden beneath a tangle of silks and singed-looking robes. His expression was almost expectant, and he lifted his head lazily, fixing his eyes on hers. “How are you still whole?” His eyes narrowed accusingly as he asked without missing a beat, and Val could only rustle her wings indignantly. “Is that how you greet everyone whose investigations you interrupt?” she huffed, though her tone was only half-harsh. There was a humor to assault in the form of sudden philosophical questions, especially when the assailant had an obvious physical advantage yet glowered like a petulant hatchling. “You’ve more souls than bodies, stranger.” That was new. Val couldn’t restrain the surprise that flickered across her face. “How can you see it?” “I once held six.” The Imperial’s ruined muzzle twitched into something that was intended to be a bitter smile, but the crimson beneath his mask shone with uncertainty. “Down to two. I only want to know how you aren’t…you know.” He held up a paw, which, to Val’s surprise, donned no glove or boot—no, the bird-rough skin was the Imperial’s, down to the ashblack feathers that wormed their ways between the fine lines along his joints. “…you removed them?” Well, her level of interest quickly overcame the annoyance in her chest. Exorcism wasn’t unheard of, of course, but…she couldn’t imagine it was an altogether pleasant process. And to have undergone it four times already… Ruins be damned, she’d found something a bit more worthy of poking around. “I certainly did not. Not myself, at least.” He only rose to his paws with a great sigh, tall enough now to gaze down at Val, who didn’t often find herself dwarfed. There was a glint of something unreadable in his eye, and rather than worrying…the Guardian stood her ground, intrigued. “I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.” He flared a massive, silk-laden wing in a sweeping gesture, something hard and sardonic in the little Val could make out of his eyes beneath his mask. “Trial by fire, and I happen to know a rather…interested judge, if you’re inclined.” She had apparently paused for too long as she chewed on her answer, and the theatrically-suave mask dropped and shattered. The Imperial let out a self-deprecating chuckle, shaking his head. “Ah. And maybe I ask because a lone flight back over the Sea doesn’t sound particularly appealing. And if it isn’t too intensely personal…perhaps I’d like to learn about you, if you’ll be kind enough to entertain my questions. If you’re partial to ruins,” he jerked his head upward, gesturing to the yawning cavern that dove beneath the sooty surface, “I know a stretch of Shade-ridden catacombs you may find interesting, in exchange for a conversation.” Slowly, cautiously, he crept past Val—the scents of strawberry and seawater clung to his robes, along with something…ashen. Without thinking, she turned as he passed, her gaze trained on his too-many teeth. A rueful smile had formed, something a bit more genuine than his guarded smirk, and Val felt something wistful stir in her chest. He felt lost. She had known that feeling, when her own second voice had fallen eerily silent. Perhaps it had been a relief, but an empty one; after the cacophony that six occupants had to have been, she didn’t even want to imagine what thoughts poured in the fill in the ravines. “…hm.” He’d fallen open like an elegantly-bound book, full of ragged pages, and she remained tight-lipped about her own…condition. About the urges that had began to stir dangerously in her chest, a compulsion to search that she wasn’t sure was her own? [i]Trial by fire it was, then.[/i]

[Well if that don't beat all. XD I've been trying to catch your replies, too, so I'm gonna consider this a sign and place a second claim as well!] @tigresjumeaux [More sandboxing here than outright flirting, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless!] The wee dinghy rattled in the surf like a loose tooth, and [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/48853543]Rove[/url] grit his own-- not so much against sea-sickness but the rimey ghosts he recalled at the merest whiff of it. He couldn't eat salt without tasting blood; had declined fish after the Accident, afeared of trace marenflesh. He gagged now, remembering. Poor old gentleman, [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/54457187]Elakshi[/url] thought as she rowed and he went very green. Thousandcurrents was only frisky today, but not unseemly so; just playful, as it had been since the newest arrival to Eleven-Isle. That one'd come from the coast on a golden bridge - fireflies, it seemed - that even now lent their glint to the surf all sunny-spelted. But flightless dragons were generally, probably, not too keen on vertigo of any kind, and she hastened to reassure him of their destination. "Not much more now, sir! And the currents-color is favorable, sir, it's the best time it's been in ages to hear the shellsong. You're like to hear from the heart, no matter how deep it's sunken." She paused, perfecting that. "Or seems it has! Y'know sir, the treasure's always buried. Always sunken. That's why not too many come here. The Isle can be moody, but there's always land beyond the water. You'll be alright, sir, don't you worry; once you meet Sir Azrael the Unbound, you'll find yourself right as rain on land and returning to the big water 'fore you know it again, too!" She thought it was a fine speech, but he looked even souer by the middle of it. Couldn't lose faith, though. Lose that last, if ever.[i] In training. Priestess [b]in training[/b], Ela[/i]. "You must be the isle priestess then," he observed, and she was so cheered to be seen for who she was, she agreed to let her passenger row instead; to steady himself while she spoke more of the holy elements and their rippling one-and-togetherness. ----- But it wasn't Azrael or even Venice whom the stranger sought. Rove was patient and polite, but there was something lean in him that betrayed his civility. Even before, [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/36260181]Icarus[/url] noted wryly, he found himself in his sprite-child's den at swordpoint. "You will regret this venture," he said. "A prophecy? Hah. How about this one? [i]Nothing ventured, nothing gained.[/i]" "Gains can prove diminishing." "I don't like politics and I like religion even less, being that it's just politics in fancy robes and a stupid hat." Icarus permitted himself the slightest smile, trying to curb his assailant's nastier one. Rove trembled like a wave on the cusp. "It was stupid to come here." "Yeah?" The ugly sword - a misapprehension of his own tree-body; wooden, true, but bleeding as freely as any broken bone - was near to shearing the bogsneak's mask, whose prospective loss of modesty was the main reason he flinched. "Yes. The law of" - Icarus moved his head and the haggard sword moved with him - "probability: were the ten before me only lucky, or do you have a reason for forfeiting your life to threaten mine in particular?" "I'm not scared of your little night-lights, preacher." "No," Icarus realized. "You are afraid of someone here, though." And [i]he [/i]had been afraid this would happen someday: self-styled heroes attack the isle to purge the catacombs of assumed Shade influence or acolytes, and him and his whole monastery made a neat sacrifice to their gods. "I swear to you that it-- what resides here is not what you think. It's--" "How did you become such an accomplished liar on an island with only eleven people? The trail ends [i]here[/i]. Where's the rest of his-- the fireflies!" "You mean, you're not here for the-- Crow?" "Do I look like I want more birds around me?" Icarus considered him and the tree. "Crow would like you perhaps too much." "I'm not here to help the gulls overthrow your bad-luck birds. You've got my," Rove swallowed. "Armaghan. The Fire sprite." [i] Not...Wind?[/i] ----- [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/39121154][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/391212/39121154_350.png[/img][/url] In the sleepy subterranea of the isle, Crow felt a cool under-rumble of wet, ancient rock and the even deeper, darker lap under all that of Thousandcurrents dreaming. Neither had been distracting enough to center him since he was-- enacted; he followed the wag of windtails from Ether to Sorn, picking berries from both sides of the fence as they fell always, and many, before him. He was lucky-- luckiest in amusing himself because he favored neither life nor death's provisions. Both were equally funny. Or [i]fun[/i]. Was there a difference? He didn't know it. At least until he met the firefly shepherd. Crow had not known other sprites existed, but moreover it amused him to hopfrog up his flock to discover the shepherd himself was in need of rescue from the wolf. How funny would it be to swap without looking? [i]Very.[/i] From the Ether, he did the quantum switcheroo and bubbled up over with delight as the Real Kidnapper boiled over with shock then rage. And from there and then, it was as easy as trees losing autumn leaves to let the Wind ferry them nether'ly back home. [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/48999729][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/489998/48999729_350.png[/img][/url] Crow had never had someone his own size to pick on, but Armaghan was better even than that. They played shadow puppets and roasted beetles like popcorn, made new tunnels by introducing firelight (it bent them; made them anew on the Etherside), and Crow didn't mind too much about missing any interplanar windword here and there, because he had Armaghan to hear instead. Which was essentially how Rove and Icarus found them, really: napping entwined with kelp and dusted all over with ether-soot that shone like pollen, deaf to anything but the other's heartsrest. "Ah," Icarus said. Rove for his part found it was best, when one was at a loss, to revisit what had been said at the very start of it all. "[i]Hm[/i]." Looked like the joke wasn't just on him this time, though. [For the next matchmaker, my permas are in the hatchery, coli, and inn tabs, as well as the hibden. A lot don't have lore but they do have a heck of a look - I welcome whatever interpretations speak to you.]

@MineralTownNPC [s]Might take a while, but it'll most likely take less than a week depending on whatever work I have-[/s] Jerie is such a pretty banescale and very pleasing to the eye (her skink and tear combo is very satisfying aaaaaa-) wonder how this spice merchant fares with Medusa - apologies if she seems out of character, I was intentionally looking for a dragon with only a slight sliver of lore for flexibility on my end (;^^) [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/66086876][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/660869/66086876_350.png[/img][/url] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/60352255][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/603523/60352255_350.png[/img][/url] ---------- The Trading Post was bustling with dragons and travelers from all around the Sorneith, bargaining and discussing among themselves feverishly over goods and services - and others arguing and frustrated over the overly long lines or "absurd" prices for a pair of spectacles. This was the daily commotion, and Medusa has long since grown to be used to the bustle of the Dragonhome lands. After all, she's lived with it her whole life - ever since she was a hatchling, clutching a singular coin of treasure in an ally. She slithered her way through the crowd filled with varying dragons and elements, observing the corner market signs for her next score, she keeps her pouch close. Shops were always changing around the area since most posts are owned by traveling merchants or individual dragons looking for a quick deal - or a poor fool to monopolize. Her eyes finally catch a new post, a spice merchant. Working the stand was a Banescale who looked mildly annoyed with the amount of noise in the area, the Guardian beside her seemed to be working for her - or rather doing her bidding - using the talons she doesn't have to properly organize and make the stand look presentable. Medusa makes her way over and examines the products, consciously avoiding the Banescale's stare. After taking note of the spices presented at the stand, Medusa faces the stranger with her talon hovering over nicely wrapped Vanilla Beans, which seemed much different than the standard product. [b]"Interesting, Grade B Shrieking Wilds Vanilla Bean spices isn't a product that's easy to harvest - are you sure you're selling them?"[/b] Her voice carried a thick accent. A smirk appears on the Bane's lips, taking great satisfaction from Medusa's comment. She shoos away the guardian and examines Medusa once more; [b]"Why, I have plenty more where that came from - as valuable as they are why wouldn't a dragon sell? Since you know much about the product, you must understand the price as well-"[/b] [b]"As intriguing as all your merchandise sounds, the best score I've seen all day is [i]you[/i], dear."[/b] [b]"Well if that doesn- [i]wh-what?[/i]"[/b] The Banescale flushed ever so slightly under her skeletal mask, taken aback by the stranger's forward response. [b]"You heard correctly, it's not every day I see such a beauty behind the stands."[/b] She mused smoothly. [b]"Perhaps you can accompany me one day to the tazarn, then we'll discuss prices."[/b] Agape, the Banescale scans her mind for a response as the traveller bags herself a ration of the vanilla bean. She refocuses once the nocturne holds out a pouch of treasure, though Jerie can't clearly see the other's expression it was clear she was smirking. [b]"I'll take that as a yes; my name is Medusa."[/b] [b]"Jerie.."[/b] The Banescale takes the pouch with her jaw, and watches as Medusa merged back into the bustling crowd. Jerie takes a moment before dropping the pouch and counting the treasure. She narrowed her eyes; Less than half of the price... she was robbed.

---

@cr0ws OH MY GOD I'M SO.... ENAMORED??? FLATTERED??? SHOOKETH??? FILLED WITH JOY??? aaaaaa!!!

It always makes me so fluffy when Halcyon gets a flirt hhhhh it never gets old. I love your writing so much. Ferris is so cool I am absolutely gushing aaaa!!!! tea man... I want some...

Halcyon would 100% not realize him trying to help, he would def be apprehensive but also trusting...!

I love Ferris's dialogue, his relaxed but also sharp nature! It contrasts really well with Halcyon. hhhh i keep rereading your post to find more tidbits I really like!
I love this entire scene so much... Ferris my beloved. You go take your date!!! I don't have the words rn to fully express the serotonin levels I've reached reading your post but just know it really made my day!

---

@MineralTownNPC Please tell me you are considering writing a book/writing a lot in your daily life!

Your prose is amazing and your use of vocabulary is so extensive and fun! I adore the voice you gave to Wairen as well as Rove. They legit sound like pre-modren vetarens trying to find meaning/solace between the violence of their past and the strange peace of their present!

I'm crying... Tears of joy!
Probably one of the coolest ways to describe a character's perception in a long time. I need to read books again I miss this.

I also really liked the way you incorprated other Balloonists such as Waverly and Nellie. I wrote the Balloonists when I was in high school, and they all need lore/bio updates. But they still have a special place in my heart. It feels like you wrote a slice of a family, with Rove being someone they've welcomed and given a temporary shelter.

I hope he comes back soon! Wairen has simply not reached such levels of joy in a very long time

@Meyry [s]claim~ :3c May take a while, but will be finished![/s] [s]Next person! Tza, Forge, and sales/project dragons are off limits. Everyone else, even dergs in the hibden, are open! [/s] I believe that Decipher [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/52067212][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/520673/52067212_350.png[/img][/url] would perhaps get along with Tide! [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/44036441][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/440365/44036441_350.png[/img][/url] [center]____________________[/center] Under the waves was a calm place to be, somewhere that she could calm down and escape the noise and rabble of everywhere else... Sure, waterborn dragons did pass by every once in a while, or others that had an affinity for staying under the waves longer than the usual dragon- But mostly, Tide could be by herself down here. When everything else was too much and too overwhelming. Tucked away in a coral-decorated alcove, she watched as fish and other beasts meandered by. Calm, serene, noise muffled by the water's embrace. She'd closed her eyes, and had nearly drifted off when a noise alerted her to someone's presence. Alert, blinking open her eyes to see another Pearlcatcher had halted in front of the alcove she was resting in. Oh, what a pretty dragon... Colorful scales, colorful eyes, a gentle expression. Ducking her head briefly in a greeting, she offered a soft smile at the stranger. Much to her amusement and joy, he returned the smile, albeit a bit hesitantly. "Hello, stranger." She greeted, mouthing the words, and hoping he understood her. Hoping the charmed necklace 'round her neck actually worked the way that the dragon that had sold it to her said it would. It was [i]supposed[/i] to help make one's voice clearer and easier to understand underneath the water. After several moments of silence, Tide just watching the other Pearlcatcher curiously, he gave a subtle nod back at her "Hello," he greeted back, voice almost sounding like a melody to her ears. Right away, her previous stress was momentarily forgotten. Now she was just curious about this beautiful stranger. "I hope I'm not intruding somewhere of yours-" She sheepishly muttered, ears pinning back against her head. She'd just found this pretty alcove and decided it was a good place to destress, not quite thinking on if it was a place that another dragon already considered theirs- Her thoughts were interrupted when the other Pearlcatcher shook his head slightly. "No. It caught my attention too." He motioned with one paw at the various coral types that decorated the stone around them. "I saw this coral, and I wanted to take a closer look." Smiling at this, Tide rose from her downed position, pushing her mane back from where the water's currents had tangled it slightly. Watching her, the other Pearlcatcher just tilted his head at her with a raised brow. "You like studying the coral and sea life, too?" She asked eagerly, a shine in her eyes. "I don't often have anyone to speak to with a shared interest... Perhaps I could invite you to sit with me for a while?" Motioning to the wide-open waters outside the alcove, she laughed softly. "This is a good place to relax. Forget about the stress of the above land for a bit and enjoy the beauty of the oceans." With a humm and an expression she couldn't quite get a read on, the other looked out as well. At least he seemed to be pondering the offer and not downright rejecting it, so that was a positive! After a couple minutes of silence that had her shuffling just slightly nervously, he spoke up again. "I think that would be nice." Resisting the happy noise that threatened to bubble out of her, Tide smiled brightly and motioned to the area near her. "Lovely! It'd be nice to have someone to enjoy this place with, even if it's just for one day... At least, let me tell you my name. I am Tide." Watching as the other Pearlcatcher made his way over, she could see that bits of coral were actually weaved through his mane and tucked in the crannies of the shimmering crystalscale chestplate. How interesting... Once he'd settled a polite distance away, he spoke up once again. "Decipher. A pleasure to meet you, Tide." Smiling brightly, she gave a little nod before deciding she'd not speak again unless offered conversation. Somehow, she felt this Decipher was a dragon that'd prefer comfortable silence as much as a comfortable conversation. Plus, she really didn't mind. Company, especially company pretty as he was, certainly was an improvement to her day.

@cr0ws claim! [center] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/71910714][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/719108/71910714_350.png[/img][/url] my qiu would flirt with your panghur! [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/39906416][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/399065/39906416_350.png[/img][/url] [/center] qiu shivered, the chill of the ice cavern getting to them as they trotted forward, eager to finish their task and go back to the surface. their wolf pelt, which called itself markus, did little to help with the cold, per usual. it murmured a few words of discouragement before going lifeless again, and qiu grunted with annoyance, pushing past the icy ground, and heading into a clearer, but still frozen, part of the cave. they were there to collect samples from the vivacious beasts, for a project of theirs. they'd heard tales of the beasts taking shelter in the caverns for millennia, but never had the time to look for themselves, until now. the wind in the cavern blew through the corridors, and qiu squinted ahead, frowning as they made out a silhouette of some sort in the darkness. a familiar, perhaps? they thought, before stepping closer to the shadow. “or a beast,” markus rasped, giving a glowering smirk before going limp on qiu’s head again. qiu stiffened at that, hesitantly inching closer toward the thing. they desperately needed those samples, and weren’t going to give up yet. what they did not expect to see was another dragon. he was covered head to claw in a swirling mist of black, his face shrouded in a dark cloak. panghur, however, knew of their arrival the moment they set foot in the cavern. he stared at qiu wearily, his voice cold. “i know not of why you are here, traveler, but you must leave. this cavern isn’t suited for dragons such as yourself,” he murmured, his voice nearly as smooth as an icicle itself. as much as panghur longed for the company of another dragon, he knew it was his duty to prevent those who wandered into the cavern from going any further. much to panghur’s dismay, qiu remained. their brow furrowed, “what? leave?” they frowned. “i just arrived. it’d be silly of me to leave so soon.” panghur blinked slowly. very seldom had a dragon refused his order, and he stared down at the little wildclaw, who shifted under his heavy gaze. “i shall not move, nor let you pass.” he finally replied, watching carefully as the wildclaw’s expression fell. the dragon was far larger than them, and was blocking the path toward the beasts. it would be pointless for qiu to do anything but leave. “very well.” they adjusted the wolf cape on them carefully, and turned around with a flick of their tail, heading back the direction they came from without another word. panghur let out a little sigh of relief, glad he wouldn’t have to kill yet another trespasser. it was a difficult job he had, and most other dragons were aware of it. clearly this wildclaw was ignorant to the horrors he had to face. he felt a small pang of longing as he watched the dragon leave. it’d been ten years since he’d last saw a dragon, and seeing the wildclaw had brought back his ache for a companion of sorts. he dutifully pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that longing would get him nowhere, and resumed his duty. [center]-[/center] he did not sleep that night, although he rarely did in the first place. it was impossible to, with the little wildclaw taking up most of his thoughts. his chest ached with the familiar pain of isolation, and he paced around his spot in the corridor, sharp claws digging into the hardened ground with each step. distracted, he hadn’t noticed the wildclaw slip into his cavern once again, staring up at him with curiosity. panghur stopped shortly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at the other dragon. he curled his tail over his paws curtly, his body blocking the entryway to the beasts once more. “why are you back, traveler? was my message not clear?” qiu paused for a moment, letting out a small puff of cold air. “i have decided to visit you, until you let me pass. i see that fighting will get me nowhere, so perhaps patience will instead.” with those words, panghur’s heart lurched. his claws dug into the fresh earth beneath him once more, and his teeth gritted. “you mustn’t say such things, traveler. you need to leave.” he turned around, facing the entryway, and waited for the sound of retreating footsteps, but they never came. for hours, he layed like that, until the stillness of the cavern, and the quiet of the corridor soon lulled him into an unknowing, unwanted sleep. [center]- [/center] panghur finally awoke, anger pricking at his chest, and turned around, blinking with surprise. “you’re here.” he murmured, less of a statement and more of a question. qiu nodded patiently, curled up in a pile of snow a few feet from panghur. “why wouldn’t i be?” panghur stared at them for a few moments longer, then turned back around, leaving their question unanswered. [center]-[/center] days passed, and panghur refused to look at his guest. qiu remained silent, and panghur did not speak, in fear of getting attached to the traveler. it had happened on occasion before. some wandering traveler would come seek shelter, or the beasts in his cavern, and stay, until they no longer needed him anymore. panghur would be left alone once more, and the traveler would be free to go back to their family, or whoever it was they had left behind on their journey. it wasn’t fair to him, that he was succumbed to a life on his own. qiu suddenly spoke, distracting panghur from his thoughts. “what is your name?” they hummed curiously, gazing up at the large imperial. panghur replied without a second thought. “it is panghur.” he grimaced, and stared down at his claws. he wasn’t supposed to be speaking to the wildclaw. the wildclaw murmured his name a few times, nodding. “panghur. it suits you well.” panghur said nothing. their conversation remained like that for weeks, qiu asking a simple question, panghur replying, and then falling silent, almost like he was embarrassed to talk to the wildclaw. [center]-[/center] panghur had unwillingly gotten closer to qiu. it had been months, nearly a year now, and qiu still hadn’t forgotten about him. his former travelers hardly stayed a week, always leaving him. but qiu was different. qiu was also far more touchy, now. they’d place their paw on the imperials shoulder unknowingly, or curl up next to him when they were tired. panghur certainly didn’t mind. in fact, he’d never had this sort of bond with another creature before, so he welcomed qiu’s touch. panghur let out a small, quiet laugh as qiu spoke about their colleague back at home, and the ridiculous things she had been experimenting on. qiu’s tone suddenly shifted, and they gazed up at panghur, a gentle look in their eyes. “you are quite pretty, panghur. i don’t believe i’ve ever mentioned that.” they murmured ever so softly, tilting their head to look the other in the eyes. panghur felt warm, despite the chill of the cavern, and looked away from qiu. “as are you.” he breathed in reply, the words unfamiliar on his tongue. the two lay in silence for the rest of the night, lying comfortably against one another. panghur knew, that qiu would never leave him, much like the other travelers did. [center] [center]-[/center] [/center] [center] next person - nobility and vin are off-limits! anyone else is good! please take note of my dragons sexualities/pronouns ^^[/center]