Raffles & Giveaways

@Bellator27 Sorra and her gemstones are headed your way!

@reyofsun She's held for you!

[center][size=5][b]Lotto Update![/b][/size] [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=51920871] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/519209/51920871_350.png[/img] [/url] @Razatharia Your hold on the dragon has expired. @Xayxayx You are the new winner! You have 48 hours to write for you dragon.

@mermaidlorelei Here is the lore for Astraea. :) [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=57778080] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/577781/57778080_350.png[/img] [/url] There had been a fierce storm that night, lightning illuminating the sky as waves crashed against the surface of the water. For the three little hatchlings tucked away in a well-established lair in the Spiral Keep, in the deepest depths of the sea, the storm held little significance. The parents, Auvers and Oise, glanced up at the unrest above and then at each other -- was the storm an omen? Together they gazed upon their youngest and wondered what would become of them. Would they grow only to serve the Tidelord, as their three eldest had? Would they remain and make a name for themselves in the clan? Only time would tell. --- Astraea has always been a curious child. Curious about the bubbles as she watches them float up, up and away toward the surface. Curious about the swirling blue patterns that would've allowed her to blend into the surrounding water, were it not for the almost golden lines that stretch across her entire body. Mama always told her she looked like the night sky in the midst of a storm -- constellations dotted between strikes of lightning -- just like the night she and her brothers were born. The mysterious lines shimmer and glow, giving her an ethereal, otherworldly appearance. Astraea is curious to know if there is something more to their lineage. She's heard so many stories from her parents about where they'd grown up, and she itched to see beyond their little fortress. And so, after much discussion and debate, she set off with her two brothers. They landed in the Forum of the Obscured Crescent, awed by the deliberately constructed dwelling. It was easy enough to settle in, and with so many others passing through for the first time as well, there was never a dull or lonely moment to be had. However, even with their research and bonds built and everything they'd seen and done, the siblings eventually felt the familiar pull, calling out and urging them to move on. It came as no surprise that Reilunin wanted to head to the Cloudsong. She'd seen his wistful glances toward the Windswept Plateau when they'd first emerged from the Sea of a Thousand Currents. He deserved peace and happiness. She was perhaps a touch more bewildered but no less supportive when Lapis announced he'd made the decision to go to the Gladeveins. Her own path had been set in stone for quite some time, although she'd never had the courage to tell the others until now. Astraea was destined for the Sunbeam Ruins, hoping to find the Nightkeepers but confident in the feeling that even if she couldn't, she'd be able to find a place there. It was her mother's home once, after all. The siblings part ways, unsure of when they'll see each other again, promises on the tips of their tongues to visit but held back by uncertainty. They know that it is time to complete their own journeys. This doesn't make saying goodbye any easier. --- Life without her brothers is difficult at first, but she'd expected nothing less and thus presses on. Astraea moves frequently, learning but never settling, until she reaches the Mirrorlight Promenade. Sarenrae, a Solstice Dawnbringer if her studies are correct, welcomes her into a lair, introducing her to a wide variety of dragons who are more than happy to help. She is instantly taken by Alexandria's bubbly laughter, Amber with her kind heart, the cartographer Hyperion and his apprentice Austere... She is especially touched when Leia, the leader of the clan, senses how much she misses her family and takes her under her wing. They trade stories, and Leia listens patiently and answers as many of Astraea's questions as she is able to. She learns that her relatives are at the Beacon, and that if she asked, anyone would be willing to accompany her for a visit. She learns that Rey would like to train with her; that she can make Adora smile; that Elena loves talking about the Shifting Expanse. She learns that she has a home here, if she wants one. [i]She thinks of the affectionate glimmer in her mama's golden eyes as she ruffled the feathers on the top of her head before they left. 'I love you, little star. And I want you to be happy, no matter where that takes you, okay?'[/i] Astraea closes her eyes and turns her face toward the sun as she reflects. She is the happiest she's ever been here. And there is a warmth in her chest that lets her know that she has, indeed, found her home.

@Decaffeinated Oh wow! Well, here goes!

—-

Even as a hatchling, the spire called to him.

Altair was born to a clan of traveling merchants- a nomadic, ragtag group of dragons. His mother was a florist, while his father her salesman. He was born among the deep crags of the Crystalpine Reaches, its arcane energy settling itself deep into his blood. Despite being of the ice flight, it was undoubtable that something about the arcane had worked its way into him. He was the first-born of his clan of this region- the majority of his kinsmen hailed from the nomadic Wind flight.

While his family bore him no ill will, the sharp divide in their personalities quickly grew apparent. His family was a fun-loving sort, always hoping to hold small festivities and social get-togethers. Meanwhile, Altair had a tendency to shy away from these loud, boisterous gatherings- often resorting to finding small nooks and crannies in the crags away from his family where he could simply lose himself in his thoughts.

When his family would finally come looking for him, it would often be nightfall before he would be discovered. Still and silent, they would find the youth staring unblinking deep into the stars- breathlessly entranced by their beauty.
Amongst all of his curious fascinations, the stars always dominated his thoughts. Deep within him, there was a primal desire to fly up and reach them- to lose himself in their heavenly light.

Amongst the deep cliffs of the reaches, there was always one feature which Altair adored above no other. A strange, tall mountain with an oddly flat peak- stretching further into the sky than any of the other crags. At the spire, dark violet clouds swirled, crackling with bright arcane energy. It was impossible to simply fly up to the peak due to this arcane storm- it was undoubtedly a no-man’s land for dragons of other flights, a place of no return.

Still, staring into its reaches, the tower called to him.

As Altair grew older, he found that he was outgrowing his old hiding spots. While the crevices he hid in were of a suitable size for a hatchling, spots which comfortably accommodated a fully grown imperial were nearly impossible find. His precious time alone became a rarity- and the more time he spent around his talkative family the more unnerved he grew. An important part of him had gone missing, and now that he was fully grown, his family had begun to make preparations to continue onward on their travels.

As the day of their departure edged closer, Altair found himself growing more desperate. His restlessness has begun to settle into his bones, his days of staring into the stars were slowly fading away from him. Soon, they would be lost to him forever. On the night prior to his family’s departure, Altair had decided.

Silent and secretive as a serpent, the imperial rose from his nest, and crept past his slumbering kin. There was a soft breeze- yet the sky seemed cloudy and starless. As Altair quietly exited the camp, he caught sight of his mother’s slumbering face. Something deep, cold, and painful filled his chest.

Beside his family’s camp, a small patch of blue flowers bloomed. He knew his mother often frequented this spot. Even when he shied away from her, she would always try to reach out to him, and leave him gifts and messages through her precious flowers.

Whistling softy in the breeze, the blue petals seemed to glow with a faint light. Carefully, Altair plucked a few of the healthier blooms, and then returned back to camp to lay them beside his slumbering mother. She didn’t stir, but the flowers seemed to illuminate her gentle, motherly features. Altair took in the image of his mother one last time, then turned away.

Forget me not.

Without looking back, he made his way toward the spire.

It took several hours, but Altair soon found himself nearing the base of the mountain. As he neared the tall spire, the wind had begun to pick up, and the air around him seemed tense- charged. Arriving at the base, Altair stopped to stare upwards. This was it, the point of no return. He could either turn back, or continue onward. In spite of himself, Altair hesitated. The image of his mother’s gentle sleeping face filling his mind.

He shook it off. If he had stayed, he knew he would only bring his family down- and he himself would always be left wondering, always left longing, for something they could never give him. This was something he had to do for himself.

Energy surging through him, Altair launched himself at the cliff- his claws scraping sharply and digging deep into the rock. Tooth and claw, he began to scale the mountain- as the charged wind billowed on his skin.

The higher he climbed, the more intense the storm above him raged. Bolts of arcane lightning crackled and raged about him, the wind had strengthened to a gale. Several times, the imperial was almost blown off by the strength of the storm, but each time he steeler himself against its fury- determination hardening his heart.

The higher Altair climbed, the faster his heart seemed to race. He was nearing something spectacular, something no dragon had ever seen before. Something that his blood called him to bear witness to.

Finally, he had reached it- the throat of the mountain. Scrabbling, Altair graves himself over the flattened peak, spilling his exhausted body onto its smooth surface. His eyes were squeezed shut with perspiration and exhaustion- catching his breath, Altair lay there for several moments.

It was time. Shakily, the imperial rose and opened his eyes.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The storm had swirled about the spire, creating an open eye into the night sky at the center of the peak. The stars were closer than the imperial had ever imagined, bright, brilliant, and beautiful. Below his feet, the glassy smoothened surface of the peak reflected the sky like a mirror- his entire being seemed cloaked with the stars and the brilliance of the sky.

Suddenly, a bright bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky. It crashed into the peak, shattered and raced towards him. Altair had no time to react before the arcane bolt surged into him, filling his body with the power and fury of the sky.

To Altair’s surprise, he felt no pain. The strike must have lasted less than a second, but time for the imperial seemed to still. As his body overloaded with the arcane energy, he felt something in him begin to change. The arcane bolt seemed to weave itself through his body, creating an intricate display of light. The reflection of the stars below him seemed to leap up onto him, painting him with their brillance as if he were a canvas.

Then, it was over. Looking down, Altair gazed into his reflection- his newfound color and power originating from the stars.

Spreading his wings, Altair lifted himself into the sky, flying deep into the stars above him- invisible in the night. He would dedicate his life traveling the skies and learning their secrets- for he was now one with the stars.

@Decaffeinated It's long, it's sappy, and it's all over the place but I like it?? Oh, and mild cliffhanger. Also, Askan ended up more of delivery boy/boyfriend rather than assistant/boyfriend but oh well. And boyfriend is heavily implied rather than stated lmao. -- [center][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/dressing-room/dragon?did=57208693&skin=0&apparel=553,24707,1551,6028,13784,12927,12934,490,30812&xt=dressing.png[/img] [size=1]It might take me a while to get this outfit though, oof[/size][/center] [quote]Askan hadn’t been living in the Starfall Isles for very long. Maybe he’d lived there about a year or so. Long enough to plant an orchard and garden and grow it up with the help of a local Nature-born imperial. During his year in the Isles, he tended to his orchard daily and began to make juice out of the fruit that he grew. Making fruit juice was sort of Askan’s hobby, he enjoyed squeezing and milling down the fruit, sweetening up the juice, and then either drinking it up himself or bottling it for later. However, this daily activity of making and bottling juice ended up making Askan have a surplus of it. So much that Askan was almost getting run out of his own house by bottles of juice. So, Askan took what he could carry of his juice (and extra fruit, because why not?) and went to the local village to either sell it off or give it away. He put down a trade blanket, laid out his bottles of juice and a few baskets of fruit, and waited for his first few customers. His first customer was a Coatl, with bright golden wings and underbelly, and a cerulean shimmer on the rest of him. The Coatl reminded Askan of a beach, with sun-baked golden sand and the bright waves of the ocean, however Askan shook the thoughts from his mind. He’d just met this coatl, why was he thinking of him so fondly, just for his coloring? He only half listened as the coatl babbled on and on about Askan’s juices and fruits. The only time Askan truly listened to him was when the coatl mentioned making smoothies to combat the summer heat. “I always loved making smoothies when it got hot out, and now I’m doing it for a living!” Askan had heard the coatl say with a big grin on his face. “No doubt your fruits and juices will work perfectly in my recipes, they’re nearly made to perfection. I can see you put a lot of work into it.” Askan blushed a little at the compliment and watched as the coatl left a generous pile of gold for what he had bought and left. It was only a few moments later when he realized the coatl had nearly cleaned him out of his stock and paid him nearly [i]double[/i] what Askan had been asking for his wares. His mouth fell open and he quickly had to hide his astonishment as the next customer came to see what was left. That was only the beginning…. A few weeks later, Askan had replenished his stock of juice and fruit and took it to sell in the market again. Not counting how much the Coatl had bought, Askan had been pretty successful at selling his fruit juice and decided that it may not be too bad of an idea to try to make a business of it. That, and he secretly hoped to see the Coatl again, though he silently cursed himself for getting a crush [i]this easily[/i] on a guy he just met and didn’t even know! After a few hours of sitting with his juice and fruit, Askan’s eyes lit up as the familiar Coatl came scurrying over. This time, Askan took more of a note of his features as the Coatl came to look at his wares. His feathers were a bit bent to one side, and he wore some white gloves. There was a smear of red up the side of his face, where some stray smoothie must’ve splashed on him. Then Askan looked at those bright yellow eyes as the Coatl’s brow creased over them. “What’s wrong?” Askan found himself asking without even a second thought. “Well, it seems you don’t have that strawberry and sugarmelon juice you had last time…” The coatl trailed off. “I used it to accent my ‘Sweet Delight’ recipe and the hatchlings loved it.” “Oh…” Askan said, feeling a pang of his own disappointment at the lack of having what the coatl wanted. The Coatl’s expression then flipped to a smile. “You wouldn’t be opposed to taking custom orders, would you?” He said with a cheery note. “Because I have a lot of different ideas and I could always use some fresh fruits and juice!” “No! Not at all!” Askan said, his own wide smile crawling onto his face. “What do you need?” The Coatl’s smile then turned a little devious as he pulled out a long list and let it’s bottom roll out along the ground. “How much of these do you think you could get me?” Askan took the list and read over it. “Probably a little more than half?” He said, creasing his eyebrows. He hoped that wouldn’t disappoint the coatl. The Coatl smiled widely. “Alright, well get them to me whenever you can! I’ll pay you handsomely!” He said with a wink that made Askan’s face heat up. “Oh, and if you’re gonna become my supplier, you should know my name. I’m [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=370083&tab=dragon&did=52961169] Bacchus[/url],” he said, holding out his little gloved hand. Askan gently grabbed it in his own much larger hand, careful not to hurt Bacchus as he shook his hand. “I’m Askan.” [center]~~~[/center] Askan found himself working day in and out to get Bacchus’ orders filled. It wasn’t that Bacchus was demanding, but the fact that Askan found himself wanting to meet up with Bacchus more and more frequently. Every time he filled an order for the Coatl, Askan had been invited into Bacchus’ home and smoothie stand to see what the Coatl had been up to. The experimental recipes, and the sweet smell of the stand were delights to experience and Bacchus’ passion for his work made Askan feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and what made it even better is that Bacchus’ work had aligned with Askan’s own as a maker of fruit juice. It was like they had common interests. But working non-stop was taking a toll on Askan’s health. He wasn’t aware he was running himself ragged purely based on wanting to see Bacchus, and his exhaustion was on the verge of catching up with him. He wasn’t aware that he was beginning to look awful, and that he was beginning to let himself go ungroomed. He wasn’t aware that when he’d make it to Bacchus’ doorstep he would be on the verge of passing out. [center]~~~[/center] “Askan, Askan, Wake up!” Askan eyes cracked open and was looking up at the ceiling. He had no idea where he was at until a familiar sweet smell hit his nose. [i]”That smells like Bacchus’ smoothie stand…”[/i] Askan thought for a moment before Bacchus popped into his field of view. “Askan, are you okay?!” Bacchus said, pawing Askan’s face. Askan rolled over, his back and neck aching and his paws shaking. “Wh-what happened?” “You knocked on my door to deliver the fruit and when I opened the door you sort of just fell forward and passed out!” Bacchus exclaimed. “You look awful, are you sick? Have you been getting enough sleep?!” Askan looked at the Coatl as Bacchus worriedly spewed the questions. He felt himself beginning to tear up at the coatl’s worrying. How could he make Bacchus worry like this? “N-No….” Askan said shakily. “I h-haven’t slept i-in days….” Bacchus looked up at the Imperial, his yellow eyes wide. “And why not? Do you have anxiety? Insomnia? You should’ve let me know I wouldn’t have kept ordering so much! You’ve made three deliveries in the past week and for all I know you’ve probably been awake at least that long! That’s so dangerous for your health!” At this point, Bacchus was running his claws through his feathers, full on fretting now. Askan started crying, a fat tear running down his cheek and nearly dripping onto Bacchus’ head “I-I wanted to s-see you…” Askan murmered “You wanted to see me?” Bacchus said, calming down a little, looking up at Askan in wonder. A small bubble of panic arose in Askan. Now he was in a pickle, how does one explain that? He clenched his jaw as more tears spilled over. How did he keep Bacchus from knowing he had a crush on him? [i]”I wanted to see him because he’s my only friend? No, that’s pathetic… and friendzones him. Because we share a common interest? Maybe, but that’s not worth going nuts over….”[/i] Askan’s mind raced. “I-I…. I l-like you…” Askan said in a small voice. “I mean, I like you too but frien- oh… OH!” Bacchus said in realization and his face softened into a small smile. “Well, why didn’t you tell me?” Askan fell silent. He was afraid to. After all, he’d only known Bacchus for a few months what if Bacchus didn’t like him back? What if Bacchus would avoid him for it. Askan must’ve had his internal turmoil playing on his face, because Bacchus began to chuckle after a few moments. “Get some rest. We’ll make some smoothies together when you wake up.” Bacchus said with a smile. [/quote]

@mermaidlorelei Ah yay! I love her so much (: I would love her to be renamed Katana, if that's possible, but if not, no worries. Here is her lore! [b]Content warning:[/b] it features some pretty graphic violence It also features this Banescale boy who I plan on geneing: [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=57455199] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/574552/57455199_350.png[/img] [/url] The Banescale paced along the top of the ridge, furry building in her veins. The sets of eyes along her flank burned with rage and she whipped her barbed tail impossibly quickly back and forth, sending loose rocks careening down the steep cliff beneath her. Smoke curled from her maw and her talons, which sank into the ground with such force they obliterated the rocks beneath them. If the band of thieves in the valley below could have seen her, they would have started running. But they did not. Mostly because they were unobservant, arrogant swine, but also because Katana did not want to be seen. Not yet. Furious as she was, she was no fool. There were six of them and one of her. Even if she had the element of surprise, she knew she would need a better strategy to win. A strategy that didn’t rely on the seventh member of the group fighting on her side. For that seventh dragon was the entire reason she could not simply turn her eyes away and leave the dragons below in peace. He was a Banescale, a male, and was currently bound by a myriad of ropes and chains to the point that Katana doubted he could scarcely breathe, let alone move. Clearly, he had been difficult to capture. Or at least that’s what she gathered from the fragments of conversation she could hear from his captors. The six thieves, of various breeds, kept recounting the moment they captured their quarry, boasting of their bravery and skill in managing to subdue him and speculating at the exorbitant amount of treasure they would get for him at the auction house nearby. Katana knew the auction house of which they spoke. The only dragons sold there were of immense value for one reason: they could fight. The auction house was conveniently located next to the area's famous (and illegal) fighting pits, where no dragon that went in ever came back out. This Banescale would die a gruesome death, fighting for his life, and here were six dragons laughing and buzzing with excitement at the prospect. Katana hissed. No, she would show them no mercy. While she paced, Katana formulated her plan. For hours she waited. It was imperative she strike at the right moment. Fail to do so, and she would lose. Losing was not an option. Just as the sun began to set behind the cliffs, Katana sprang into action. In one fluid motion, she dove from the cliff face straight towards the ground below, wings tucked in tight, air whistling madly through the spines on her back. Once she was below the cover of the treeline, Katana banked sharply, mere inches away from colliding with the ground. She grinned in satisfaction. Working her way swiftly but silently towards the slavers, she began to pick up their conversation again, along with the aroma of slowly cooking rabbit. Perfect. She would wait until they had finished eating, sluggish from bellies full of food. Then, she would end them. At least that was the plan. Until she heard a Pearlcatcher say something that turned her blood to ice. “You know, he looks a little too clean cut. No one’s gonna believe us when we say he’s a good fighter if he looks like that. He needs some battle scars.” A mirror piped up in response. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right boss. Couldn’t agree more. Shall I do the honors?” “Go ahead Bromin, make our fighter look like a champion.” Katana had worked her way close enough by now to see into the clearing. She was positioned directly behind the bound Banescale, could smell his defiance turn to fear as the mirror crept towards him from across the clearing. Katana refused to stand by and watch this Banescale be mutilated in front of her. She had planned to take out his captors one by one, hoping the bound male could use her distraction to free himself, but this was no longer an option. In the few seconds it took for the mirror to cross the clearing, she came up with a new plan. It was risky, but it was all she had. Using the Banescale’s back as cover, she sank as low to the ground as she could manage, and scurried forward until her mouth could reach the largest of the ropes binding the Banescale’s wings to his sides. Mercifully, the Banescale didn’t flinch as her jaws closed around the ropes, shredding them in half. Katana couldn’t tell if he knew she was there or if his senses were too preoccupied by the mirror brandishing a razor-sharp talon in his face. “What do you think, Worm? Which part of you shall we carve up first?” the mirror sneered. The Banescale flinched in response, true terror in his eyes. The fans along his spine trembled with fear. “Ah yes, how about those pretty little fans of yours?” the mirror said, his eyes glowing with glee, clearly enjoying his torture. He began scrambling up the Banescales flank, digging his claws in mercilessly with every step, until he reached his victim’s back, maw open in a gruesome smile. His smile quickly vanished when he finally noticed Katana, slicing the last of the ropes in her jaws, her multitude of eyes alight with furry. He didn’t have time to utter so much as a scream before Katana pounced, her jaws closing around his throat, and snapped his spine in half. No longer making any attempt to hide, she rose to her full height, wings outstretched, and hovered in the middle of the clearing, dropping the dead mirror onto the fire and letting out an earth-shattering roar. In response, four of the remaining dragons bolted into the trees, running or flying as fast as their legs and wings could carry them. It wouldn’t be fast enough. But for now, Katana aimed her attention at the remaining slaver. It was the Pearlcatcher, the ringleader of the group. He hissed in anger, and settled into a fighting stance. Katana could see the muscles rippling beneath his hide. He would not go down without a fight. Katana dove towards him, just as the Pearlcatcher launched himself off the ground. They collided in midair, claws meeting flesh, jaws ripping through to bone. They crashed to the ground, the impact briefly breaking them apart. Katana wasted no time in springing to her feet, snatching the Pearlcatcher’s tail in her sharp fangs as he struggled to get away. In a split second, she had dragged him beneath her, pinning him to the ground with her jaws while her back talons tore his muscular hind legs to ribbons. There would be no escape for him now. Just as she was about to lunge for his jugular and end the miserable fool, Katana noticed that the male Banescale had escaped his bonds and was flying towards her. He skidded to a halt next to her, seemingly unfazed by the ear-splitting screams coming from the Pearlcatcher. With pleading eyes, he looked up at Katana, as if asking a silent question. The female thought she understood. Her eyes blinked slowly, and then she carefully released her hold on the Pearlcatcher. It wasn’t really necessary anyway-- that filth wasn’t going anywhere. “N-no, please,” the Pearlcatcher begged, squirming in the pool of his own blood collecting beneath him. But the Banescale’s face remained impassive as he took Katana’s place, his talons crushing bone as he climbed atop the whimpering mongrel that had enslaved him, who would have sold him like livestock just to make a little extra coin. The Banescale snarled and Katana watched with pleasure as he arched his neck, jaws clamping shut around the Pearlcatcher’s throat, the captor’s screams sputtering out into a pitiful gurgle. In one final motion, the Banescale ripped muscle from bone… and sent the Pearlcatcher’s head flying across the clearing. He looked down at the headless corpse beneath him, a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Katana was grinning wildly herself, but she didn’t stay to see what happened next. She had dragons to chase, to kill. Four of them to be exact. And not a single one would live to see daylight.

@mermaidlorelei [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=56360936] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/563610/56360936_350.png[/img] [/url] Note: am naming this boi Streele~ Aha I'm not the best at writing lore but here goes- As a hatchling, Streele was not the most normal. He wasn't weird either. The best way to sum him up is that he was creepy. His family had no clue why their son was the way he was, he just happened that way. Nobody in Sornieth could figure out why. His family was the most normal family you could ever encounter. But their son.. He was a different story. You'd find him sitting in the corner of his room. Just sitting. Maybe reading a book about the history of Sornieth, or teaching various stolen familiars to dance. But some days he'd just sit. Just. Sit. "Streele, honey," his mother calmly inquired one day. "Why do you just sit and stare? I find it quite creepy. Perhaps you can come down and join me and your father for a game of chess. Does that entice you?" As always, there was no answer. Streele's mother carefully walked across the room to Streele. His eyes were glued on her as if she were a scorpion stalking closer. You see, Streele's family was completely aware of Streele's sitting-in-a-corner-and staring habit, and it freaked the heck out of them. Sometimes his eyes would follow them across the room-if they happened to be in the same room as him-and the family member would hurriedly leave. Despite being his family, they were terrified. Streele's mother reached her son, and even though she was treading carefully, she cupped his face in her talons and asked, "Can't you just be a normal hatchling? Just once? Please, for the love of Shadowbinder, Streele." And Streele looked up at her. And he hissed. And his jaws opened wide as if he were going to swallow his mother whole. His mother screamed and left. Streele smiled a wide smile, so wide that it seemed the corners of his mouth reached his ears. It was a smile not easily forgotten. Hmm, perhaps that was it. Perhaps Streele loved to trick. To tease. To make others worry about him so much that when they tried to help, their hospitality appeared not to be welcome. It made his parents want to exalt him, throw him at Shadowbinder and make him be taken away. But his pitying (and scared) parents kept him. And when he grew, he didn't change. Just got creepier. Finally he left. Left the lair, left the clan, joined another flight completely. But every dragon knew. Knew his name. Knew exactly [i]why[/i] he was well known. It was because in the corner, there was always lurking.. Streele.