Sunset

Sunset is a bit snobbish, and can be vain. However, she does have a sweet side. She does not interact much with other dragons, but heavily spoils her familiar Prance. She was a noble, but grew bored of the life, so she came to the Plagued Pirates. She is surprisingly good at documenting things, and has neat handwriting, so she is the scribe of the group. She likes telling fiction stories, especially science fiction. She likes to lounge out on the ship whenever it is sunny, and soak up the rays. She hoards shiny things and jewels, an often rubs them, as she likes the texture. She often carries a mirror around to look at it all day. She uses fancy, old timey words.
(Lesbian she/her)
[Adopted from @DragonSister]
(Story Holder)
"Come, come, peruse my collection. I have an uncountable amount of tales to share with all!"
(Characters:Cthulu, Rosy)
Writing Prompt from Wyrmwound Writers’ Guild - Weekly Writing Prompts
Before him sat the remnants of a story that would no longer be told, with carved stone and greenery entangled together in a silent defiance.
Not right. Not right again. Every time he was nearly done with his statues, his claws worked against him. Took away her beauty and replaced it with rot. Decay. The deep ocean was supposed to be a safe haven after the horrible plague that killed her, and everyone else, and broke him. Maybe he'd been meant to die in the plague. Perhaps living broken and tainted was worse then joining his beloved, friends, and family.
The parts of the ship he touched with his front claws were rotted, swarming with wood eating bugs. He'd had to learn how to walk on his back legs just to avoid rotting his home away. He didn't meet many dragons nowadays, so he never had to deal with handshakes or even just accidental brushing against. One silver lining, at least. Rosy always saw the silver linings in life.
He looked at the rusted plaque showing her name. Rosy. His beloved. In her final days, the plague took away her beauty and replaced it with rot. Decay. Now even in a statue form he couldn't look at her perfect, healthy, happy form. Her painted pink scales were spotted with deep, unnatural, dark purple, wings speckled with black and brown dots that seemed to eat away at her stoney flesh, causing holes.. Her jewel eyes dripped an odd black liquid, and sores freckled the stone.
His most successful statues had allowed him to get to the point of adding vines and greenery to the statue, before his claws took it away. She'd loved wearing little plants and things like that. Then his claws would take those statues away, too. Take away their beauty and replace it with rot. Decay.
He sighed and nudged the ruined statue away, pushing it into the pile of the other statues of her. Pulling out a large piece of stone, he started again. Maybe one day her story would be told properly-a happy tale with no rot or decay. But not today.

---

(Characters:Seafoam [see Cthulu offspring list], Crystal, Cthulu)
Cthulhu carefully watched over the newly hatched dragons, chuckling to himself as they scraped off their eggshell pieces. Rosy was gone, but he'd managed to save these four eggs. Him, and his children were all that remained of his former clan.
Crystal had stepped out for a breather, and hadn't actually seen the hatchlings yet. He couldn't wait for her to see how beautiful they were.
All of them were wriggling and squirming about, stumbling as they tried to figure out walking, and nipping at each other with toothless gums.
"So lively! Those two should be Beach and Moss, and that one can be Eldritch. Oh, and that one can be Seafoam!" He said to himself, gesturing at the grey, white, the tan hatchling, and the tan hatchling with green wings.
He wasn't thinking, and reached out to pat Seafoam, the smallest one on the head. The hatchlings scales turned a horrid grey-black, already freckled with sores.
"No, no! Im sorry, I'm sorry! Please!" He begged the already crumpling hatchling. No newborn could survive his touch of rot. Especially to the head. He'd ruined everything again. Ruined his statues he'd sculpted and ruined his son. Even worse was the thought of his crew knowing-they'd finally realize he was awful, and rightfully toss him overboard, or worse. And he'd deserve it. Seafoam faded quickly, falling to the floor, no longer living.
He cried silent tears over the body, and then, carefully dropped it through a window. An honorable ocean burial, although with no ceremony, feeding the fish and keeping the ocean alive. No one would know what he had done. No one. Only him.
He'd lie and say one egg must of died before hatching, and that he'd tossed it into the water. He apologized to Seafoam again in his mind, a tear in his eye. He knew the Tidelord would raise his son well, and be a much better father then he ever was. Or perhaps the Plaguebringer would take pity upon him. Either of them would be better parents then a broken dragon.
Crystal stepped into the room.
"A beautiful three hatchlings. Was one egg bad? A shame, but three is better then none." Cthulhu swallowed, and nodded along. No one would know. Seafoam would rest peacefully beneath the waves.

---

(Shout out to @Lessai and their dragon Papa, who is a character. The other character is Cthulu]
Cthulhu wandered about the small town, always looking over his shoulder. He'd parked the ship recently, and taken the opportunity to have a walk by himself. He often wandered about alone, so his crew didn't question it. He had to get his mind off what he'd done. He still hadnt told them about Seafoam. How could he ever? They'd hate him and he'd deserve it.
He entered a cafe, the jinging bell being oddly comforting. It seemed relativly unpopular, as the only dragon aside from the workers was a large red and black male Guardian, wearing a hood.
"My, sonny, you look so down! Is something bothering you?" said the dragon, cocking his head, speaking in a deep, warm, soothing voice. Normally Cthulu would be bothered by such a question, but this dragon just seemed so comforting, and like a safe being to confide in. He sat down at the table, and fiddled with his claws as he spoke.
"I-i killed my son. I didn't want to, but my claws.. they're cursed. They rot whatever they touch. And I cant tell anyone, they'll hate me, and i'd deserve it."
The larger dragon took a sip, seemingly unbothered by the confession.
"Papa has heard far worse! Some of my children are fugitives, and you didn't even mean to do it. Papa forgives you. And you should never say you deserve to be hated. No dragon does! All dragons deserve loving, some just have the part that deserves it buried deep, and you gotta dig it out." the dragon -Papa- said, patting Cthulu on the head, while letting out a booming, yet calm, laugh.
"I'm sure your son forgives you, wherever he is. I'm sure he knows you didn't mean to."
Cthulhu felt calmer, and better then he ever had.
"Thank you, Papa. I have to get going now." Cthulhu waved, getting up.
"You're always welcome, Sonny! Papa loves vistors!"