[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/91075807][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/910759/91075807.png[/img][/url][/center]
[b]Interacting with:[/b] Dream (@JellyRaven), Camryn (@Starwindrider) plus anyone else nearby
———————————
Dream and Camryn had barely finished speaking before they were met with an extremely frantic Botulism, barreling toward them like a loose steelhound, only twice the size and significantly more panicked. It only just avoided crashing into the two like a bowling ball, digging all six of its legs into the sand as its wings buzzed and its mandibles shook, fractal eyes blown wide.
“[i]HURRRT[/i]!” It cried, fixated on Dream’s melted, wounded scales. Botulism looked distressed, frighteningly so, but it was also… drooling? “Fffffriend [i]HURT[/i]! Mmmmonster! Eeeevil! Ki-ki-kill-errr! BAAA-D MEAT!”
It suddenly shoved a hand(?) into its mouth, almost all the way up to the elbow, before quickly withdrawing it, covered in spit.
“I [i]FIX[/i]!” Then, likely to the horror of the two other-meats and one no-see present, it swept its saliva-covered hand over Fresh-meat’s open wounds like it was slathering butter over a roast. “No hurt more! I-mmmmmeat [i]fix[/i]! No mmmore hurt!”
If the dragons had known Botulism, they would have known that its saliva was almost completely sterile, and because of its parasitic nature, actually acted as a powerful anesthetic when applied to wounds. Originally intended to keep prey from wanting to escape so it could feast without issue, when Botulism decided it wanted friends, it found other uses for its biology.
But most dragons, however, do not know this.
Interacting with: Dream (@
JellyRaven), Camryn (@
Starwindrider) plus anyone else nearby
———————————
Dream and Camryn had barely finished speaking before they were met with an extremely frantic Botulism, barreling toward them like a loose steelhound, only twice the size and significantly more panicked. It only just avoided crashing into the two like a bowling ball, digging all six of its legs into the sand as its wings buzzed and its mandibles shook, fractal eyes blown wide.
“
HURRRT!” It cried, fixated on Dream’s melted, wounded scales. Botulism looked distressed, frighteningly so, but it was also… drooling? “Fffffriend
HURT! Mmmmonster! Eeeevil! Ki-ki-kill-errr! BAAA-D MEAT!”
It suddenly shoved a hand(?) into its mouth, almost all the way up to the elbow, before quickly withdrawing it, covered in spit.
“I
FIX!” Then, likely to the horror of the two other-meats and one no-see present, it swept its saliva-covered hand over Fresh-meat’s open wounds like it was slathering butter over a roast. “No hurt more! I-mmmmmeat
fix! No mmmore hurt!”
If the dragons had known Botulism, they would have known that its saliva was almost completely sterile, and because of its parasitic nature, actually acted as a powerful anesthetic when applied to wounds. Originally intended to keep prey from wanting to escape so it could feast without issue, when Botulism decided it wanted friends, it found other uses for its biology.
But most dragons, however, do not know this.
--------
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=72560621][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/725607/72560621.png[/img][/url]
[color=#5C34E5][b]NECROMA[/b][/color]
[i]He/Him[/i][/center]
Interacting with: Arkon (@relics), open!
-----
Disruption.
Necroma flinches as a crystal lands close to his head, not sharpened, but heavy.
“I-I didn’t mean to! I was trying to make a flame, I-I didn’t know it’d-”
“That it would lead to nearly burning down the tower? A simple flame, and you almost caused a catastrophe?”
Knock.
His mentor looms over him, clothes still freshly burnt at their edges, as the flame only kissed them before. The imperial easily extinguished the fire, but he also constantly shouted down at the coatl, making him lose his focus. Necroma didn’t want to admit that, though, he’d surely be scolded even more.
“I think this calls for a lack of dinner, would you agree?” His mentor pauses, and Necroma nearly thinks he got off easy, before a spire spears through his tail, and instead of the pain waking him-
It’s a knock.
Already getting up and out of his sleeping area, he tidies up the den, then tidies up himself. It doesn’t take long, he has magic help him put things away like loose scrolls or- loose scrolls?
He blinks, then shakes his head, he must’ve forgotten to tie them, surely!
Once they were secured, he opened the door, beaming at the company.
“Greetings, my friend! What brings you to my abode? Do you wish for shelter and possibly, a good cup of tea?” He dipped his head down in a sort of bow, the closest thing to one considering the other’s size. “I only extended the offer because it seems like you’re..a bit worse for wear? Not as an insult, of course! I only noticed your- …wait a tick. You were that knocking in my dream! I’m going to assume you were because who else would- bah, never mind! I lost myself!”
He thought he was imagining the knocking, honestly, in the dream they seemed so far away.
“Many apologies! Please feel free to come in!”
NECROMA
He/Him
Interacting with: Arkon (@
relics), open!
Disruption.
Necroma flinches as a crystal lands close to his head, not sharpened, but heavy.
“I-I didn’t mean to! I was trying to make a flame, I-I didn’t know it’d-”
“That it would lead to nearly burning down the tower? A simple flame, and you almost caused a catastrophe?”
Knock.
His mentor looms over him, clothes still freshly burnt at their edges, as the flame only kissed them before. The imperial easily extinguished the fire, but he also constantly shouted down at the coatl, making him lose his focus. Necroma didn’t want to admit that, though, he’d surely be scolded even more.
“I think this calls for a lack of dinner, would you agree?” His mentor pauses, and Necroma nearly thinks he got off easy, before a spire spears through his tail, and instead of the pain waking him-
It’s a knock.
Already getting up and out of his sleeping area, he tidies up the den, then tidies up himself. It doesn’t take long, he has magic help him put things away like loose scrolls or- loose scrolls?
He blinks, then shakes his head, he must’ve forgotten to tie them, surely!
Once they were secured, he opened the door, beaming at the company.
“Greetings, my friend! What brings you to my abode? Do you wish for shelter and possibly, a good cup of tea?” He dipped his head down in a sort of bow, the closest thing to one considering the other’s size. “I only extended the offer because it seems like you’re..a bit worse for wear? Not as an insult, of course! I only noticed your- …wait a tick. You were that knocking in my dream! I’m going to assume you were because who else would- bah, never mind! I lost myself!”
He thought he was imagining the knocking, honestly, in the dream they seemed so far away.
“Many apologies! Please feel free to come in!”
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=90743645][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/907437/90743645.png[/img][/url]
Rapidly approaching Shade (@Storia)
[rule]
The den was finally begining to look something like a decent home, if Cinty had to judge it. It now coiled into two separate floors with plenty of room for writing, sleeping, laying on the floor, storing sharpened sticks, and happy dancing. Wonderful. What wasn't so wonderful was now Cinty was peeling herself off the floor after a hazy night where she couldn't remember if she slept or not. No matter. She'd gone longer with less sleep before.
Was it healthy? Not in the slightest. Was it useful? Maybe. Did her head hurt? Of course, but she could also feel the blood in her veins rush through her body with a delightful prickling, shoving sleepless adrenaline into every nerve and muscle.
The packed earth shoved haphazardly into her doorway crumbled with a few well-placed blows and Cinty shook off the dust from her fins as she stretched out into the hazy sunshine. Aaaand there was the congregation. It seemed like another had realized some unfortunate soul was trying to attack the others with shoddy methods. She shook her head, fins bouncing softly. No, she didn't want to get caught up on that. Not this early, at least. Not before she had a nice cup of something warm that would get her all prepared for the day. She didn't know if the clan had coffee, or beans, or anything of that sort, but perhaps she could lick some green rock and get the same result. Wait, no, that was a terrible idea.
But perhaps she could find something, or [i]somebody[/i] interesting on her search for a stimulant. Like that rock that looked like it was oozing pus. Or that scraggly little weed. Or the skull large enough she could probably fit inside. Yes, that was certainly interesting. She approached it with a galloping gait and took notice of how the air seemed to chill around her, and the tiny apology carved into it's cheekbone.
Rapidly approaching Shade (@
Storia)
The den was finally begining to look something like a decent home, if Cinty had to judge it. It now coiled into two separate floors with plenty of room for writing, sleeping, laying on the floor, storing sharpened sticks, and happy dancing. Wonderful. What wasn't so wonderful was now Cinty was peeling herself off the floor after a hazy night where she couldn't remember if she slept or not. No matter. She'd gone longer with less sleep before.
Was it healthy? Not in the slightest. Was it useful? Maybe. Did her head hurt? Of course, but she could also feel the blood in her veins rush through her body with a delightful prickling, shoving sleepless adrenaline into every nerve and muscle.
The packed earth shoved haphazardly into her doorway crumbled with a few well-placed blows and Cinty shook off the dust from her fins as she stretched out into the hazy sunshine. Aaaand there was the congregation. It seemed like another had realized some unfortunate soul was trying to attack the others with shoddy methods. She shook her head, fins bouncing softly. No, she didn't want to get caught up on that. Not this early, at least. Not before she had a nice cup of something warm that would get her all prepared for the day. She didn't know if the clan had coffee, or beans, or anything of that sort, but perhaps she could lick some green rock and get the same result. Wait, no, that was a terrible idea.
But perhaps she could find something, or
somebody interesting on her search for a stimulant. Like that rock that looked like it was oozing pus. Or that scraggly little weed. Or the skull large enough she could probably fit inside. Yes, that was certainly interesting. She approached it with a galloping gait and took notice of how the air seemed to chill around her, and the tiny apology carved into it's cheekbone.
Wishlist -->
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/forga/2558325/749#post_56003852][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/922678/92267723.png[/img][/url]
[color=#772311][b]ARKON[/b][/color]
[color=#862814][size=2][i]He / Him[/i][/size]
[color=#862814][b]Interacting with:[/b] Necroma, @PeanutButterGay[/color][/center]
[rule]
When Arkon saw the dragon who answered the door, he briefly wondered if he was a relative of Acolyte's. He had that same purple plumage and tangibly magical aura, but this coatl was a good bit more vibrant, and had a greater affinity for gold, jewels, and other dazzling accessories. At his first couple of sentences, Arkon assumed his magical capabilities extended to telepathy, seeing how accurately he had managed to summarize the fae's current position. However, that notion was quickly dispelled as the stranger commented on his poor appearance, causing him to glance down at himself. Yes, he was not much to look at, between his battered spear, rusted chains, and jewels covered in a visible layer of grime from how long it had been since his last proper bath. Really, he should've been grateful these people were willing to talk to him at all, considering how rancid he was.
Arkon coughed into his fist awkwardly as he tried to refocus on the matter at hand, then looked up at the larger dragon. "Thank you for your kindness, stranger," he began, straightening himself up to have a more regal posture. "I will admit, this is not the best state I have ever been in; I am a wandering prince from a distant land, and I am searching for a way to break my curses. You may call me Arkon." He would have bowed as well out of respect for his benefactor, but he could only imagine how bizarre that would look with his wings never leaving the ground, so he simply dipped his head. After a moment of polite pause, he took the coatl's offer to enter the house, eager to set his talons on a hard indoor floor for the first time in days.
Once he was a few paces inside (a few of Necroma's paces, that is), he paused and choose to remain standing awkwardly on the floor. He didn't want to touch any sort of furniture or nice rug, because he was afraid of tracking grime all over it, so he simply paused next to a conspicuous scroll cabinet with its door slightly ajar. "This is a nice house," Arkon mumbled mindlessly as he glanced about, seemingly slipping into a whole different accent for a moment. Without realizing he had even said that aloud, he decided to busy himself with adjusting his jewelry to sit on him just so, now that he was out of the elements. He really had no idea what to say to his generous host, but maybe the hungry rumbling of his stomach said it all for him.
When Arkon saw the dragon who answered the door, he briefly wondered if he was a relative of Acolyte's. He had that same purple plumage and tangibly magical aura, but this coatl was a good bit more vibrant, and had a greater affinity for gold, jewels, and other dazzling accessories. At his first couple of sentences, Arkon assumed his magical capabilities extended to telepathy, seeing how accurately he had managed to summarize the fae's current position. However, that notion was quickly dispelled as the stranger commented on his poor appearance, causing him to glance down at himself. Yes, he was not much to look at, between his battered spear, rusted chains, and jewels covered in a visible layer of grime from how long it had been since his last proper bath. Really, he should've been grateful these people were willing to talk to him at all, considering how rancid he was.
Arkon coughed into his fist awkwardly as he tried to refocus on the matter at hand, then looked up at the larger dragon. "Thank you for your kindness, stranger," he began, straightening himself up to have a more regal posture. "I will admit, this is not the best state I have ever been in; I am a wandering prince from a distant land, and I am searching for a way to break my curses. You may call me Arkon." He would have bowed as well out of respect for his benefactor, but he could only imagine how bizarre that would look with his wings never leaving the ground, so he simply dipped his head. After a moment of polite pause, he took the coatl's offer to enter the house, eager to set his talons on a hard indoor floor for the first time in days.
Once he was a few paces inside (a few of Necroma's paces, that is), he paused and choose to remain standing awkwardly on the floor. He didn't want to touch any sort of furniture or nice rug, because he was afraid of tracking grime all over it, so he simply paused next to a conspicuous scroll cabinet with its door slightly ajar. "This is a nice house," Arkon mumbled mindlessly as he glanced about, seemingly slipping into a whole different accent for a moment. Without realizing he had even said that aloud, he decided to busy himself with adjusting his jewelry to sit on him just so, now that he was out of the elements. He really had no idea what to say to his generous host, but maybe the hungry rumbling of his stomach said it all for him.
Live today. Don’t wait for tomorrow.
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/78828651][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/788287/78828651.png[/img][/url]
[b]Acier[/b]
Interacting: Camryn (@Starwindrider), Dream (@JellyRaven), Bot (@WyvernTales), and a crippling sense of guilt
---
[i]Too slow.[/i]
Acier wants to yell. Twice! Twice this Shade-dammed murderer had evaded him! This was his job! He was supposed to [i]guard[/i] this clan, and though the original contract had only mentioned outside intrusions, that was no excuse for not doing his due diligence! How could he… how could he [i]fail[/i]?
He’d fought monsters, he’d slain the mightiest of beasts. His name was honored in villages across the land. Acier, the mighty monster hunter, slayer of vampires, vanquisher of shades. And he’d been brought low by a simple mortal!
It wasn’t like him. He was soft. He’d gotten soft. Or had he always been like this? His mother had never taught him the art of intrigue, but still…
[i]Why had he never bothered to learn?[/i]
He walks along the shores of the rancid riverbank, tracking the remnants of the killer’s deed.
[i]Too slow to help. Too slow to stop it. Why? [/i]
His talons curl into fists, a faint snarl traced across his face.
His canines are showing. He wouldn’t be so reckless, normally, but there’s no one here, and who is he not to snarl? Who is he not to be angry?
[i]Too slow to catch them. To slow.[/i]
Did it matter that he’d noticed the deed? Should he be thankful that, at the very least, his senses weren’t failing him?
A civilian had been hurt, and it was his fault. Someone like him. Would he be next? Could he even protect himself?
He wanted to talk to her, to make sure she was alright (at least she was alive), but with the gathering crowd? Would that be too big of a scene?
Two vampires in one space.
[i]I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. No one has to know what we are.[/i]
Was that true? Would she think the same? What if someone already knew? He couldn’t afford it, not now. He couldn’t protect them if they didn’t trust him.
[i]Did they trust him?[/i]
He… he didn’t know. Too many unknowns, like this whole moon-blighted situation. Acier sighs. He’s getting nowhere. The trails all run cold, no matter how many times he tries to follow them. He’s blotting out the smell with how much he’s passed over this same clearing. The rope’s a dead end, far too damaged to figure out the mechanism behind it. The water smells off, but didn’t everything here? There’s nothing left.
He has only one option remaining.
Acier tucks his vampire-teeth necklace beneath his coat, and takes off into the sky. Would she notice? Had she already? It wasn’t common for a vampire to hunt their own kind, but still… what if she suspected? What if she knew? He didn’t want to scare her. Not after what she went through tonight…
[i]Not quick enough.[/i]
He squeezes his eyes closed. He can’t think like this. Not here. Not now. Doubt was the surest defeat. He can’t let it claim him.
He alights at the edge of the gathering, somewhere safe and out of view where he can wait for the commotion to settle down a little. He’s not hiding, exactly, but beneath the shadow of this outcropping, he’s difficult to notice.
He plans to wait until a good opening presents itself: either someone sees him, or the other escalate this into something worth interfering in.
Until then, he waits, and tries to get his thoughts in order.
Acier
Interacting: Camryn (@
Starwindrider), Dream (@
JellyRaven), Bot (@
WyvernTales), and a crippling sense of guilt
---
Too slow.
Acier wants to yell. Twice! Twice this Shade-dammed murderer had evaded him! This was his job! He was supposed to
guard this clan, and though the original contract had only mentioned outside intrusions, that was no excuse for not doing his due diligence! How could he… how could he
fail?
He’d fought monsters, he’d slain the mightiest of beasts. His name was honored in villages across the land. Acier, the mighty monster hunter, slayer of vampires, vanquisher of shades. And he’d been brought low by a simple mortal!
It wasn’t like him. He was soft. He’d gotten soft. Or had he always been like this? His mother had never taught him the art of intrigue, but still…
Why had he never bothered to learn?
He walks along the shores of the rancid riverbank, tracking the remnants of the killer’s deed.
Too slow to help. Too slow to stop it. Why?
His talons curl into fists, a faint snarl traced across his face.
His canines are showing. He wouldn’t be so reckless, normally, but there’s no one here, and who is he not to snarl? Who is he not to be angry?
Too slow to catch them. To slow.
Did it matter that he’d noticed the deed? Should he be thankful that, at the very least, his senses weren’t failing him?
A civilian had been hurt, and it was his fault. Someone like him. Would he be next? Could he even protect himself?
He wanted to talk to her, to make sure she was alright (at least she was alive), but with the gathering crowd? Would that be too big of a scene?
Two vampires in one space.
I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. No one has to know what we are.
Was that true? Would she think the same? What if someone already knew? He couldn’t afford it, not now. He couldn’t protect them if they didn’t trust him.
Did they trust him?
He… he didn’t know. Too many unknowns, like this whole moon-blighted situation. Acier sighs. He’s getting nowhere. The trails all run cold, no matter how many times he tries to follow them. He’s blotting out the smell with how much he’s passed over this same clearing. The rope’s a dead end, far too damaged to figure out the mechanism behind it. The water smells off, but didn’t everything here? There’s nothing left.
He has only one option remaining.
Acier tucks his vampire-teeth necklace beneath his coat, and takes off into the sky. Would she notice? Had she already? It wasn’t common for a vampire to hunt their own kind, but still… what if she suspected? What if she knew? He didn’t want to scare her. Not after what she went through tonight…
Not quick enough.
He squeezes his eyes closed. He can’t think like this. Not here. Not now. Doubt was the surest defeat. He can’t let it claim him.
He alights at the edge of the gathering, somewhere safe and out of view where he can wait for the commotion to settle down a little. He’s not hiding, exactly, but beneath the shadow of this outcropping, he’s difficult to notice.
He plans to wait until a good opening presents itself: either someone sees him, or the other escalate this into something worth interfering in.
Until then, he waits, and tries to get his thoughts in order.
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=72560621][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/725607/72560621.png[/img][/url]
[color=#5C34E5][b]NECROMA[/b][/color]
[i]He/Him[/i][/center]
Interacting with: Arkon (@relics), open!
-----
Necroma had no telepathy, sadly, mind reading spells were forbidden by his mentor. The thought of Necroma crawling into his head unsettled him, and so he never taught him. It was simply that Necroma recognized the unkempt look from his own endeavors, where he didn’t have time to clean up or put every single little piece of apparel on, and thought it’d be natural to assume Arkon was in a similar situation. Sleeping on the porch wasn’t the best place for beauty sleep, he’d imagine. For a moment, Necroma thought he had offended the fae, but smiled once Arkon thanked him. He thanked him!
“Of course!” He watched Arkon explain his condition, then tilted his head. Curious. A curse? Necroma removed curses before, but they were mostly on things like objects, another dragon was different. “You don’t need to worry, my ruby red friend! Welcome to my den, feel free to get comfortable.”
It wasn’t hard to notice how awkward Arkon seemed, standing still and choosing to station himself in one spot. As he walked towards him, he heard the other call his house nice. Thank goodness! Even Vesta was on their best behavior, looking as glimmering as ever. Oh right, tea and maybe a meal were in order. Necroma shook his head, using his levitation magic to grab a kettle and fill it with a bit of water, then heating it with his flame magic. Tea bags were placed into two cups, one big enough for Necroma and one small enough for Arkon (he had shrunk it with a size spell). As he poured the hot water, he looked to Arkon to ask a question.
“Ah, what are you craving? I’m sure I have something in here that’d be to your tastes! And if you don’t like the tea, that’s okay too.” He dropped sugar into his own cup. “I was taught a good cup of tea would show character.”
NECROMA
He/Him
Interacting with: Arkon (@
relics), open!
Necroma had no telepathy, sadly, mind reading spells were forbidden by his mentor. The thought of Necroma crawling into his head unsettled him, and so he never taught him. It was simply that Necroma recognized the unkempt look from his own endeavors, where he didn’t have time to clean up or put every single little piece of apparel on, and thought it’d be natural to assume Arkon was in a similar situation. Sleeping on the porch wasn’t the best place for beauty sleep, he’d imagine. For a moment, Necroma thought he had offended the fae, but smiled once Arkon thanked him. He thanked him!
“Of course!” He watched Arkon explain his condition, then tilted his head. Curious. A curse? Necroma removed curses before, but they were mostly on things like objects, another dragon was different. “You don’t need to worry, my ruby red friend! Welcome to my den, feel free to get comfortable.”
It wasn’t hard to notice how awkward Arkon seemed, standing still and choosing to station himself in one spot. As he walked towards him, he heard the other call his house nice. Thank goodness! Even Vesta was on their best behavior, looking as glimmering as ever. Oh right, tea and maybe a meal were in order. Necroma shook his head, using his levitation magic to grab a kettle and fill it with a bit of water, then heating it with his flame magic. Tea bags were placed into two cups, one big enough for Necroma and one small enough for Arkon (he had shrunk it with a size spell). As he poured the hot water, he looked to Arkon to ask a question.
“Ah, what are you craving? I’m sure I have something in here that’d be to your tastes! And if you don’t like the tea, that’s okay too.” He dropped sugar into his own cup. “I was taught a good cup of tea would show character.”
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/forga/2558325/749#post_56003852][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/922678/92267723.png[/img][/url]
[color=#772311][b]ARKON[/b][/color]
[color=#862814][size=2][i]He / Him[/i][/size]
[color=#862814][b]Interacting with:[/b] Necroma, @PeanutButterGay[/color][/center]
[rule]
Arkon watched in fascination as the dragon (whose name he still did not know) prepared two cups of tea with magic alone, hardly even raising a talon. He had really lucked into finding a town with multiple spellcasters who knew magic beyond the range of the elements. He was tempted to take up his offer and get comfortable on a couch, with the justification that magic would surely make cleaning up very easy, but he would feel awful if he ruined someone's nice furniture even temporarily. Er, that is, it would be unbecoming of a prince to track his filth all over a residence before first cleaning himself up. Yes, that excuse would work.
"I will have whatever you can spare me," he told the coatl, returning to his usual accent. "I'm not particularly picky, and I don't want to rob you of something you were saving. As for the tea, a spoonful of sugar would be-- oh, dear, your spoon is the size of my cup... erm, never mind that." Arkon had never heard anything about tea making character, but he was unfamiliar with many such phrases, so he chose not to question it. "If I may, seeing as you are adept in magic yourself, would you happen to have a direction to point me in where I may find some help with my curses? Not that I would be departing immediately - I still need a while to rest from my journey. However, in a couple of days, I would like to know where to go, if I am able."
Arkon watched in fascination as the dragon (whose name he still did not know) prepared two cups of tea with magic alone, hardly even raising a talon. He had really lucked into finding a town with multiple spellcasters who knew magic beyond the range of the elements. He was tempted to take up his offer and get comfortable on a couch, with the justification that magic would surely make cleaning up very easy, but he would feel awful if he ruined someone's nice furniture even temporarily. Er, that is, it would be unbecoming of a prince to track his filth all over a residence before first cleaning himself up. Yes, that excuse would work.
"I will have whatever you can spare me," he told the coatl, returning to his usual accent. "I'm not particularly picky, and I don't want to rob you of something you were saving. As for the tea, a spoonful of sugar would be-- oh, dear, your spoon is the size of my cup... erm, never mind that." Arkon had never heard anything about tea making character, but he was unfamiliar with many such phrases, so he chose not to question it. "If I may, seeing as you are adept in magic yourself, would you happen to have a direction to point me in where I may find some help with my curses? Not that I would be departing immediately - I still need a while to rest from my journey. However, in a couple of days, I would like to know where to go, if I am able."
Live today. Don’t wait for tomorrow.
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=72560621][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/725607/72560621.png[/img][/url]
[color=#5C34E5][b]NECROMA[/b][/color]
[i]He/Him[/i][/center]
Interacting with: Arkon (@relics), open!
-----
The whole tea making process wasn’t too impressive, to Necroma at least. If his mentor were here he’d have Necroma making several cups all of different sizes with different amounts of sugar or milk, and if any cup wasn’t just right…then..well…Necroma didn’t want to think about it while a guest was over. Though, something confused him. The fae didn’t bother resting on the couch, or on a blanket, or anywhere at all. Quickly, he unrolled a blanket with his magic and draped it over the couch, it wasn’t a fancy one, just a plain white tarp-ish blanket of sorts. Maybe he was afraid of contaminants? Was the couch not good enough for him? Oh Arcanist, was Necroma’s furniture taste DRAB?
Before he could panic at this revelation, he listened to the fae reply.
“Of course! Just give me a moment.” The coatl rummaged through jars of things next to his tea supplies, before starting a flame and floating a skillet above it. Then, he dumped the contents of the jar into it, simmering with any spices from a small rack as he spoke. “Don’t worry! I don’t eat much anyway, I’m used to going without lunch or dinner. Or breakfast. Bleh, I seem to live off of snacks!”
Necroma floated just a pinch of sugar into Arkon’s cup. He couldn’t have such a dragon go without it! Then, he finished the contents of the skillet and poured them onto a small plate, the equivalent of one under a teacup. After a bit of plating, he floated it to Arkon and stuffed whatever was left into another jar.
“Curses curses… how awful! What ails you, my friend? Fatigue? Cursed to trip every five minutes? Perhaps bad breath? I can’t really say! I have encountered many curses in my time, mostly on things like skulls and chairs and such, on dragons… I am sadly inexperienced.” He shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know of anywhere you could go either.. Perhaps this could be a learning experience for me! Is it..too touchy to ask what kind of curse you have? It’s certainly not a curse of ugliness, that’s for sure!”
NECROMA
He/Him
Interacting with: Arkon (@
relics), open!
The whole tea making process wasn’t too impressive, to Necroma at least. If his mentor were here he’d have Necroma making several cups all of different sizes with different amounts of sugar or milk, and if any cup wasn’t just right…then..well…Necroma didn’t want to think about it while a guest was over. Though, something confused him. The fae didn’t bother resting on the couch, or on a blanket, or anywhere at all. Quickly, he unrolled a blanket with his magic and draped it over the couch, it wasn’t a fancy one, just a plain white tarp-ish blanket of sorts. Maybe he was afraid of contaminants? Was the couch not good enough for him? Oh Arcanist, was Necroma’s furniture taste DRAB?
Before he could panic at this revelation, he listened to the fae reply.
“Of course! Just give me a moment.” The coatl rummaged through jars of things next to his tea supplies, before starting a flame and floating a skillet above it. Then, he dumped the contents of the jar into it, simmering with any spices from a small rack as he spoke. “Don’t worry! I don’t eat much anyway, I’m used to going without lunch or dinner. Or breakfast. Bleh, I seem to live off of snacks!”
Necroma floated just a pinch of sugar into Arkon’s cup. He couldn’t have such a dragon go without it! Then, he finished the contents of the skillet and poured them onto a small plate, the equivalent of one under a teacup. After a bit of plating, he floated it to Arkon and stuffed whatever was left into another jar.
“Curses curses… how awful! What ails you, my friend? Fatigue? Cursed to trip every five minutes? Perhaps bad breath? I can’t really say! I have encountered many curses in my time, mostly on things like skulls and chairs and such, on dragons… I am sadly inexperienced.” He shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know of anywhere you could go either.. Perhaps this could be a learning experience for me! Is it..too touchy to ask what kind of curse you have? It’s certainly not a curse of ugliness, that’s for sure!”
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=5526909][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/55270/5526909.png[/img][/url]
[color=#850012][b]C A M R Y N[/b][/color]
[i]Any Pronouns[/i]
Interacting with: Dream (@JellyRaven), Botulism (@WyvernTales), Acier (@NameOfUser)[/center]
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At Dream’s consent, Camryn quickly takes out wipes and plant-based antiseptic. He tests it on a patch of scales to ensure there’s no reaction before applying it on the wound. “It’s going to sting a bit,” he advises. He’s about to continue when the parasite Botulism appears.
She quickly tried to intervene, “It would be better if you stayed back-“
Only to watch as Botulism applied copious amounts of his bodily fluid right onto the wound.
Camryn’s systems allowed her half a second of shock before she moved to wipe the thick fluid off with antiseptic. Heavens knows what got in there.
“Stay back please,” she commands Botulism, her friendly tone changing to a stricter one. To her newly found patient, she reassures, “I’ll apply medicine to ensure it won’t be infected. But if it does start feeling strange or any pus appears, let me know immediately.”
With practiced speed he bandages up Dream’s tail, ensuring the gauze is fit well and tight before stepping back and looking meaningfully at Botulism. They sense movement nearby and look over, sensing Acier’s presence. They incline their head in a welcoming manner to their companion.
At Dream’s consent, Camryn quickly takes out wipes and plant-based antiseptic. He tests it on a patch of scales to ensure there’s no reaction before applying it on the wound. “It’s going to sting a bit,” he advises. He’s about to continue when the parasite Botulism appears.
She quickly tried to intervene, “It would be better if you stayed back-“
Only to watch as Botulism applied copious amounts of his bodily fluid right onto the wound.
Camryn’s systems allowed her half a second of shock before she moved to wipe the thick fluid off with antiseptic. Heavens knows what got in there.
“Stay back please,” she commands Botulism, her friendly tone changing to a stricter one. To her newly found patient, she reassures, “I’ll apply medicine to ensure it won’t be infected. But if it does start feeling strange or any pus appears, let me know immediately.”
With practiced speed he bandages up Dream’s tail, ensuring the gauze is fit well and tight before stepping back and looking meaningfully at Botulism. They sense movement nearby and look over, sensing Acier’s presence. They incline their head in a welcoming manner to their companion.
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=86272887][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/862729/86272887.png[/img][/url]
[font=century gothic][size=5] Shade [emoji=crescent moon 1 size=1] any pronouns[/size]
[size=4]interacting with: [b]Cinty[/b] (@TrueTerror), mentions [b]Botulism[/b] (@WyvernTales)[/center]
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[font=century gothic][size=4]The "clan", or at least it's what the leader(s) of this place would call it, was lively today.
The fleshy-meat Aether thing - [i]Botulism[/i], Shade now recalls its name being mentioned by Sanctuary a while ago, started stumbling towards the crowd of dragons gathering around the injured Spiral. They scratched said name into the wall again, frantically holding onto any memory they can. They wouldn't want to be unable to even recall the name of the one creature that they can reluctantly tolerate as a visitor every now and then.
Speaking of visitors... a few loud stomps on the ground startled Shade and made them turn around immediately, their supernatural gaze not catching the arguably gross sight of their maybe-friend attempting to "help" the victim. Instead, the ghost's once simmering fear suddenly ignited in a blaze of terror as they realized who exactly was their unwelcome visitor this time.
The same Sandsurge who had been screaming about the unfortunate murder attempt on her just a day ago.
Oh no, [i]oh no[/i], this was bad. Out of every other visitor, this one was the last one Shade wanted to see. Their memory might have been faulty, but the image of said dragon violently tearing her throat out at Botulism was still fresh, and who [i]knows[/i] what kind of terrible things she could do to their little abode as well?
The temperature within the skull drops further as Shade tried to contain their terror, to avoid any accidental manifestations out of their fear-induced state. The worst thing that could happen here was the Sandsurge seeing them with her naked eyes, or even worse, their true form - no, no, [i]no[/i]. It must not happen.
They stick to the wall on the opposite side of where their intruder was inspecting, freezing, unmoving as they watch the Sandsurge observe their writing on the wall, resisting the urge to scratch out more words as the dragon's breath started to form clouds in the cold air with her breathing.
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[center][font=century gothic][size=5]Shade votes for [b]Necroma[/b].[/center]
The "clan", or at least it's what the leader(s) of this place would call it, was lively today.
The fleshy-meat Aether thing - Botulism, Shade now recalls its name being mentioned by Sanctuary a while ago, started stumbling towards the crowd of dragons gathering around the injured Spiral. They scratched said name into the wall again, frantically holding onto any memory they can. They wouldn't want to be unable to even recall the name of the one creature that they can reluctantly tolerate as a visitor every now and then.
Speaking of visitors... a few loud stomps on the ground startled Shade and made them turn around immediately, their supernatural gaze not catching the arguably gross sight of their maybe-friend attempting to "help" the victim. Instead, the ghost's once simmering fear suddenly ignited in a blaze of terror as they realized who exactly was their unwelcome visitor this time.
The same Sandsurge who had been screaming about the unfortunate murder attempt on her just a day ago.
Oh no, oh no, this was bad. Out of every other visitor, this one was the last one Shade wanted to see. Their memory might have been faulty, but the image of said dragon violently tearing her throat out at Botulism was still fresh, and who knows what kind of terrible things she could do to their little abode as well?
The temperature within the skull drops further as Shade tried to contain their terror, to avoid any accidental manifestations out of their fear-induced state. The worst thing that could happen here was the Sandsurge seeing them with her naked eyes, or even worse, their true form - no, no, no. It must not happen.
They stick to the wall on the opposite side of where their intruder was inspecting, freezing, unmoving as they watch the Sandsurge observe their writing on the wall, resisting the urge to scratch out more words as the dragon's breath started to form clouds in the cold air with her breathing.
Shade votes for Necroma.
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my name is essence, your local gay unicorn!
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any pronouns