#candlewax dragon
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🕯Candlewax Dragon🕯
Lo, fellow goblins! Hope you guys have had a wonderful Halloween! 🎃🍂
I meant to post this yesterday, but I've been so burnt out from life stuff and grief from losing my mom, that I honestly struggled to finish this piece. But I did it (thanks to a friend on Discord cheering me on), and now he exists in the world. 🥹💖
Some lore:
Candlewax dragons are not found in the wild. They are instead molded out of wax and infused with magic to bring them to life. While this may sound easy, the difficulty with summoning this familier lies with the magic user's ability to control the strength of their magic infusion.
Too much magic will make the candlewax dragon too hard, rendering it a lifeless statue. Too little, and the poor thing will melt into a puddle of wax, never to reform.
A good candlewax dragon remains firm, yet pliable, and is able to reform itself if it gets squished. They may start melting due to their flames from time to time, but this can easily be remedied by peeling off the melted wax and feeding it back to the dragon. Wax chips can also provide extra sustenance for them.
Candlewax dragons come in many shapes, sizes and colours, and are considered to be one of the most customisable familiars. They are mainly content sitting by their owner's side or on tables/vantage points, preferably holding something (they like to feel included). 💖💖💖
#jasminetwil#my doodles#my characters#dragon art#dragon oc#candlewax dragon#mythical creatures#jasminetwil's bestiary#familiar#witchcore#dragon familiar#digital art#artists on tumblr#cute#magical creatures#witch's familiar#candles#cozy#halloween#friend shaped#character design#illo#digital drawing#oc lore#lore#creature design#creature#autumn vibes#here be dragons#huggable
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my wip rn:
a lonely, trans, autistic and ocd prince doing his darndest to keep his ramshackle kingdom from falling apart
medieval in vibes and aesthetic only
all the world's countries and kingdoms have fallen into a single point in spacetime and have all congealed into an enormous country-sized fortress
the Prince lives on one of the smallest complex of the fortress, but at an advantageous location- the outside world is haunted by a cancer-like force that warps everything it passes by- called the sorrowing
the warping waves of magic comes by in storms, that the prince, so mathematically inclined, lives in a tower calculating both his taxes and the next storm of warping magic
the Prince is skilled at what he does, but he is a bit of an eccentric and a contradiction as he aligns himself with anarchy and socialism.. while being a prince
eitherway. the prince loves paperwork, working in the fields, working on farmers rights and maintaining his duck pond
one day, he finds a stranger in a landfill he's trying to get rid of
he nurses the stranger back to health
finds out that the stranger was the honest to fuck knight who, a thousand years ago, caused the world to fall apart
the knight was born to a dynasty of magical queens who could contain the world's grief in their hearts- so long as they remain women.
the knight could not control his true identity (he wanted to be a boy) and set out the world trying to see if he could find some way to continue his ancestors' work, without losing himself in the process
it does not work
the world falls to ruin over one boy's wish
the knight wanted to face the dragon of grief that leapt out his own heart
the dragon consumes him and spits him out 1,000 years later like Aku chucking Samurai Jack into the future
the Prince now has the literal cursebearer and the reason transphobia exists under his wing
everything is high stakes, but the story focuses on the prince and the knight falling in love and running the kingdom lovingly with gluestick and Candlewax
dark souls meets parks and rec: the anarchist bl edition
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Little Muse Facts
1) What does your muse smell like?:
Evie doesn’t tend to have a consistent scent; whatever things she smells like at a given point in time fall under the general classification of unclean. Dirt, grunge, grass, paint, candlewax - it’s probably all there at once by afternoon, with a hint of smoke.
2) How often does your muse bathe/shower?:
At least once a day. Dirt or art-related escapades may necessitate additional baths, although doing that is easier said than done since Evie hates being held and she’s likely going to ruin all that hard work within minutes of being dried and freed.
3) Does your muse have any tattoos or piercings?:
None at all - unless you count the occasional paint splotch or crayon squiggle. She’s too young for those!
4) Any body movement quirks? (EX: tapping heel, shaking knee):
Young dragons tend to exhibit behaviour akin to that of a cat or dog, though these habits rarely persist beyond adolescence, or at the very least stop occurring as frequently.
Evie is one of the many hatchlings who may have involuntary little muscle spasms on her back when stimulated and standing still, or reflexively if touched in certain places along her spine; her tail will often twitch or sway with certain moods.
5) What do they sleep in?:
It’s cold year-round in the Magic Crafter realms, so even though most buildings within the mountains have their temperatures magically regulated, it’s still a good idea to bundle up at night. Evie will be fine with just some blankets during naptime - if you can actually get her to go down for it - but she and the other hatchlings might need to wear sweaters to stay toasty overnight.
6) What’s their favorite piece of clothing?:
Hats or ribbons aside, fashion isn’t really something that many dragons care about while they’re quadrupedal - the main reasons to dress up are for playing pretend or staying warm. Evie doesn’t seem to be much for accessorising, either.
Unless, of course, shreds of robes formerly belonging to terrorised druids count.
7) What do they do when they wake up?:
Escape from the crib ASAP. Evie is usually the first of the High Caves clutch to recharge and it’s a good idea to let her out of the nursery before she can wake up the other hatchlings. Whether it be through running about, climbing on things or trying to open doors, she is going to make plenty of noise.
8) How do they sleep? Position?:
Nobody’s ever really seen Evie go to sleep purely on her own volition, through a combination of being easy to rouse and getting into who knows where.
By the time someone discovers her, she’s already heard them approach and woken up.
It doesn’t always happen before naptime, but Evie’s bedtime routine consists of Cedric lying down and coaxing her up onto his back to fool her into falling asleep. It’s usually done about half an hour since she was made to levitate in the air and forced into a sweater - strenuous as it sounds, it’s actually easier this way instead of after she’s down for the count.
Once Evie has been defused, Cedric will carefully lay her down in her crib on her back or side. That position’s better for unconscious plushie snuggling.
9) What do their hands feel like?:
Good luck getting a chance to feel them.
With all the snow outside and tiles inside, there’s not many callous surfaces around to rough up Evie’s youthful paws.That’s not to say that they aren’t likely to be grotty, damp and/or cold to the touch from such an alpine environment.
Baby dragons are tiny, which means their scales are small enough to be smooth like skin. They might have a bit of a different shape from the lack of toe beans, but you can expect all four feet to be like those of a sphynx kitten.
tagged by: @the-purple-hero
tagging: @forgedxhearts, @mrxworldwide, @spyromultimuse
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a flaming dragon with two big,burning cuties.
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hhhh blue gen1s good
#flight rising#fr#dragon share#gen1 dragons#the banescale I still need to gene#babs' babs#oc: alexandrite#oc: dusk#oc: luna#oc: kaldur#oc: Candlewax
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33 Pieces of Weird Dungeon Dressing...
The perfectly preserved body of a humanoid, tied to a throne of charred wood.
The dungeon entrance is a large magical gate that will shut and seal, and not open again until seven days have passed.
Poisonous gas seeps out from nearly invisible cracks in the dungeon’s walls.
A 6-foot-tall, beautifully sculpted man made of crystal and glass.
A circle of obelisks, with a hole in the ground at its centre.
Shelves stocked with rotting food.
The strange powers of this Dungeon Room change Spell Scrolls into other, random Scrolls of the same level.
Scatterings of hay and grass cover the room, building into larger clumps towards the next chamber.
The hallway is lined with mirrors in various states of vandalism, the one at the very end however seems too pristine.
A room slowly flooding with a highly flammable oil.
A gate inside a sarcophagus that takes you to a random location.
A constant feeling of something watching you...
Cracks in the walls seem to suck in the cold air of the dungeon room, almost like the walls breathe...
The walls are literally closing in. the dungeon is getting smaller and smaller the longer the Party stays in there...
Strange bulbous flowers with faces screaming as they come into full bloom.
Coins coated in grime and contact poison!
In the darkness of the underground dungeon room, there exists shadows that should not be...
A fire is spreading from a random room in a lower level of the dungeon, causing smoke to rise up into the higher floors.
A statue hangs from chains, dangling from the ceiling.
All words echo, even a whisper...
It's almost impossible to breathe here.
The floor is slanted and covered in a translucent oil.
Two talking goat skulls hang over the door, one speaks of a magical giant, while the other speaks of a dragon large enough to swallow the world...
The items found here spring to life, becoming Animate Objects and trying to harm their new owners.
This hallway is decorated with rows upon rows of granite statues. One of which is alive and begs to be released from "The Stony Shell".
The Dungeon itself is scorching hot. As you adventure further in, all metals soon melts like candlewax.
Coconuts hang from a large tree. If a Creature breaks open even one of these Coconuts, it releases a screaming white Spectre!
A large withered tree grows in the room, the fruits of this tree are dozens and dozens of identical heads!
A gateway that, when a Creature steps through it, separates their body and soul as if by an Astral Projection Spell.
A room with an enormous mirror that depicts any creature that looks at it as hideously gaunt and emaciated.
The entire dungeon is slowly sinking into the ocean, causing the lower levels to slowly flood with cold dark seawater.
Food troughs with poisonous mould and fungi growing within.
A large jewel is embedded within the ceiling, if removed, this causes the roof to collapse in, crushing any would be robbers.
This random list was made with help from Members of the CreativeRogue’s Discord Server. If you’re interested and want to contribute, join HERE!
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Firelight, Starlight (Pt 3)
Pt 1 | Pt 2
Summary: Once, a long time ago, six guardian spirits offered their people a home in the clouds. They're gone now, and all that's left are strange little caretakers in the ruins. Part 3/3
External link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36751693/chapters/91997596
The story goes like this:
Somewhere, once, a small creature that looked like nothing more than an ember made itself a shell, after the people from the murals of the abandoned cities. And somewhere, once, a little ball of firelight pretending to be a child approached an injured fragment of starlight-power.
It began with an offered hand.
I'll carry you home, said the child of firelight with that outstretched hand. And the child of starlight agreed: Carry me home.
To answer the question 'Why don't the mimics' capes appear in their shadows?', the lost people must, somehow, realise three things: the mimics' capes are not extensions of their bodies; the mimics' capes are not made of candlewax at all; and the tiny power-diamond-shaped glints down each cape's centreline are as far from frivolous as anything can be.
The answer, then, is this:
On their candlewax shoulders, the children of firelight carried shattered stars. These stars were too fragmented for purpose, or intent, but they helped with what they had left. They shaped their light into a cape. Gave their rescuer the ability to fly, the way the lost people could not. (and cape-wings of immaterial light, of course, do not block the sun).
The ghosts of the lost people, though, were memory-bound to specific places and incapable of travel, and so, many things remained out of the circle of their sight.
The children of firelight crossed the skies. They cleared the areas they passed through of darkness-plants, as was their ancestral task, and they left the ruins aglow with lanterns and candles, because their builders were no longer capable of doing so. They met with spirits and offered them candlelight from their hearts and listed to stories in tongues they would never understand, to take at least a mimicry of their motions with them.
They headed towards Eden.
In the storm they huddled together, sharing candles to keep each others' fire lit. They dodged crabs, skittered under dragons' eyes, pushed past light-sucking red shards that may once have been plants or may once have been debris, now changed and hungry.
Eden had been the ruins and resting place of a civilisation. Now, it was a graveyard of a different kind. The storm was stronger, the further in you pushed. Where once it had been rain and grief, now it was wind and thunder and grit and rocks flung from every angle.
In the heart of the storm, there was a field of ruins, covered in statues of children in various states of disrepair. Bashed and broken and sanded down, covering their heads or reaching out forwards. Each statue was hollow, and in the core of each one was a small extinguished ember.
The children of firelight pause at the entrance to this field, just briefly. Pull themselves together (strengthening the walls of their form as much as they can). Tuck their capes to their sides, because wings cannot carry them through this. They are here, of course, to carry their wings. Run.
Run, ducking from overhang to overhang to quasi-shelter, keeping each other alight as long as possible, stopping at each statue to press a starlight fragment through the built-up grit and stone and underlying wax into its hollow centre. And they push forwards against the driving grit and rain until they have no more starlight passengers, and no more of their own fire to keep them alight.
Then they stagger, and fall, and become statues in turn.
This is not an ending.
In each statue the runners touched, the charcoal heart of a child of firelight stirs at the touch of starlight. It could have been minutes or years. The extinguished cannot sense the passage of time.
The cold charcoal heart staggers to its feet, offers the broken child of starlight a hand. It means, Let's go the rest of the way.
Just like the beginning, the child of starlight accepts.
This time, they combine, two into one, in a body burning with starlight and a mind relit with purpose by the stubborn nature of fire. They burst through candlewax and rock, surge up and forwards, into the very eye of the storm.
The winds are calm, in the eye. There, they meet and mingle with the other migration trails, creatures who can fly above the storm, birds and mantas and great whales. Together they soar up, up, up, until they reach the light and the child of starlight slots back into place with a sigh.
The child of firelight is left an ember. Coaxed back to life by starlight. Finally away from everything deadly to them in the world below.
But there are still more stars to bring home.
The children of firelight never stay long.
A candlewax shell of a child crashes down into the sand on a lonely beach, stands, and dusts itself off.
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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.16 (spicyhoney)
Summary: Where was the one place that Red told Stretch not to go? Right.
~~*~~
Read ‘Into the Woods’ on AO3
or
Read it here!
~~*~~
Thin branches caught at Stretch as he slowly stumbled his way through the darkened woods. Twigs catching at his sleeves and scraping at his bare ankles as if trying to hold him back. He ignored it, ignored the annoyance and the scratches they left behind. One snagged and held until his t-shirt tore under the strain and still, he walked, following that faint, sweet song.
In front him of sparks seemed to form from nothingness, flickering lights dancing right before his eye sockets. Beneath the gauzy layers muffling his consciousness were vague thoughts of old legends from Waterfall about ghost lights that led travelers down wrong paths to their deaths, drowning them in still hidden pools where even their bones would never be found.
He remembered telling those stories to Blue at bedtime, whispering those haunted tales and then pouncing on his brother when he’d least expect it. Drawing out shrieks and laughter, his delight worth ending up with a little bro sleeping next to him in his bed that night after a nightmare.
He remembered it all and still he did not, could not, stop walking. It all seemed dreamy and distant, felt like his feet didn't belong to him, only vehicles carrying him deeper into the shadows beneath the heavy boughs rustling above. The lights seem bigger now, the sparks collecting together and forming into a larger shape. He couldn’t quite tell what it was, it was fluid, changing even as he looked right at it.
For the first few steps, thin moonlight glinted through the branches. No longer, every stride carried him deeper where even the moon couldn't penetrate. The only light was the face in front of him and when had it become a face? Stretch wasn’t sure, but he followed it, fascinated by her parted lips where that song formed and was cast out between them, drowning in it as surely as those who lost their way in Waterfall.
Her face was as white as the moon’s, surrounded by a cloud of long, pale hair, nothing more than a face that hovered out of his dreamy reach. He kept walking, following along with the double enchantment of that voice and face, even though that vision began to blur, melting like candlewax into something else entirely. Beneath the veneer of loveliness something was hidden, awfulness lurking under the surface, rotten with sharp teeth. The head hung in the air in front of him and slowly he was beginning to see what was dangling under it. Glinting wetly was no body at all but horrific, dripping entrails that heaved with every croon of song.
He could see it, yet even as something deep within his soul was howling in terror and beating against the bars of his mind, he only felt a sense of numb lethargy. That song ended and he only stood there, blinking dumbly and yearning for its return. She reached out to touch him, her spindly fingers tipped with long, curling claws, and he didn’t flinch as they brushed his cheekbone, caught him under the chin to yank his head painfully up.
“Too old.” Even those few words were sonorous, as lilting as a lute. That beautiful voice warmed him, so lovely, the most gorgeous thing he’d ever heard and the disappointment it held made him want to weep. He might have cast himself at her feet to plead forgiveness if not for her ruthless grip on his chin. She let out a disgruntled hiss, low and sibilant, “Much too old…a Monster? No blood, no flesh, no bite—ah, but wait.” She leaned in, sniffing delicately and something about that was familiar, something— “but you have magic, plenty of sweet, delicious magic.” She smiled and he stared dreamily at the rows of razor-sharp teeth, her long tongue lolling out and leaving a sheen of dark saliva on her lips. “You’ll do.”
It was only when she came closer and he could smell the fetid stink of her breath that a worm of panic finally wriggled its way through his calm. Gone was the angelic aura, her appearance twisting instead into that of a haggard ghoul, an anglerfish dangling her lure. He could smell blood and decay, and something worse, rotting meat and vinegar.
Her jaw seemed to unhinge, showing a gaping maw wide enough to swallow him whole, her gullet a deep, moldering gray that exhaled a fresh stink of vinegar, and he still couldn’t move, his silent shrieks only in his own mind as she drew him closer.
As she reeled him in, a loud, cracking sound filled the clearing, a splintered branch falling heavily to the ground. It broke whatever spell that held him and with a violent wrench, Stretch tore away from her, turning and running in a blind panic. He couldn’t see, crashing painfully through the trees in front of him but he could hear and behind him was something else tearing through the branches and tree trunks.
Stretch didn’t dare look back, he only ran, all the panic he couldn't feel earlier boiling up in him. He wasn’t even sure if he was going the right way, lost in a panicked flight away from whatever was following him. Reaching for his magic was pure instinct, for an attack, a shortcut, anything at all. He nearly gagged at the agonizing burn as it rejected him yet again, a splintering throb of pain jabbing into his temples.
He stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell, skittering in damp leaves and barely caught his balance enough to keep running, tearing through the whipping bushes, thin branches snapping around him. There was no time, nothing he could but let loose the screams denied to him earlier as something heavy caught him right between the shoulder blades and sent him sprawling to the ground, knocking the breath out of him.
“no!” Stretch panted out, clawing at the dirt, fallen leaves scattering as he tried to crawl free, grasping at weeds that pulled up uselessly from the soft ground. “no, no, no.” His voice rose into a panicked scream that only cut off when he was abruptly rolled onto his back. He cringed, expecting to feel needle sharp teeth sinking into his skull, crunching him down in a single gulp, and his skittering regrets were only for his brother, his dear, sweet little brother worrying over him back in Ebott and who would never know what happened to him.
Seconds ticked by and nothing happened, nothing but deep, heavy breathing coupled with the weight holding him down.
Stretch braced himself, taking a trembling grip on his sanity as he finally opened his sockets and found himself looking up into a pair of deep red eyes set in a large white skull. Bony paws were on his ribcage, pinning him down into the leaves and dirt. The creature was skeletal, like him, but like no skeleton he’d ever seen. The frontal bone of its skull was ridged with bony outcropping like horns or antlers, its sockets large and slanted, and its wide mouth was set with the teeth of a canine predator. But this was no dog or wolf, nothing that belonged in the current animal index. It was something prehistoric, dragging its bones from the murky depths of time to stand above him and stare with burning crimson eyes.
Thick, damp breath whuffed into his face with blistering heat and Stretch could smell its breath. Not fetid meat, but something oddly spicy, something---
It looked him over, crimson eyes flicking down and up, and then through that mouth of sharp teeth said perfectly clearly. "Did it bite you?"
The only sound that escaped Stretch was a near wheeze, "nnnnnnn...?"
The creature snarled louder and Stretch flinched, cringing away from those jagged teeth as it demanded, louder, "Did it? Did it bite you!"
"n-no," he shook his head frantically. "no, no, it didn't."
“You’re sure?” Another growl, more breath scented with that strange spice and when Stretch didn’t reply, another loud, feral snarl, “Are you sure??”
“yes!!” Stretch screamed back, coughing on a near sob.
The creature sagged, some of its ferocity draining into peculiar relief. Its claws dug in briefly as it moved, large paws settling on the forest floor as it released Stretch and padded away. “Don’t move,” it ordered.
He very nearly disobeyed it immediately, don’t move, what the fuck, who did Not Wolfy think he was fooling? Stretch was three seconds from fucking gone when a loud, ghastly shriek came from far too close, that same unearthly voice from before.
The beast snarled again, but not at Stretch, it turned and directly that roar in the direction of a faint, moony glow that wasn’t the moon, not at all. Stretch closed his sockets and didn’t move, shivering as the cold ground beneath him seeped into his clothes.
There was another round of incomprehensible growls and shrieks, all too close, and exhaustion was spreading through Stretch with the cold, it all seemed like so much, too much, and all he could do was croak out a miserable, “please,”
“Be quiet!” From much closer than he’d expected, and that voice held nothing of the sibilant appeal that led him into these woods. It was deep and rough, dark as the night sky and the words bitten off on jagged edges. “Stay quiet and don’t move. Don't run, it'll only make her chase you. Give me a moment to calm her down."
More growls and shrieks filled the cold night air that seemed to count as a sort of language, and Stretch could only lie there in the surreality of two creatures of woods arguing over him. He didn’t want to look, still couldn’t help opening his sockets a bare slit to see that horrible head hovering in the air in front of the creature that was like a reverse Night Fury, all sharp teeth that snapped and clenched, their voices squabbling loudly.
Mini-Smaug didn’t look at him, but it spoke again, low and steady. "She's angry that I am attempting to steal her rightful prey and the only reason she's not fighting for it is she hadn't bitten you yet. I told her you're mine.”
It…She? Whatever she was, she didn’t seem too happy to be giving up her midnight snack to the local dragon contingency. She huffed angrily, baring needle-sharp teeth then turned in her hovering way to vanish into the woods with a last angry shriek.
Falkor’s evil twin watched her go, waiting until that pale unearthly glow faded entirely before turning back to Stretch and the only light in the clearing was the crimson of its eyes.
Laying there so far from home, for the very first time Stretch wished that he’d never gotten on that bus. He didn't even have his phone to tell his brother goodbye, could taste his bitter regret from not answering any of those worried texts. He couldn't teleport, couldn’t fight. He was useless, always had been, and so too would be his death.
He could hear footsteps moving across the clearing, soft in spite of the creature’s size. Stretch squeezed his sockets tightly shut and managed a single, desperate plea. "make it quick."
There was a significant pause, a moment of utter silence, then, "What?"
"please, make it quick," he begged. "don't drag it out. eat my soul first, get it over with." The rest of him would dissolve to dust pretty quick after but he didn't see a need to mention that. He let his soul form in his ribcage and a new silvery glow filled the small clearing, the light seeping through his thin t-shirt. Hopefully this creature wouldn’t take too close a look at it before starting its meal or else the deal might be off, and Stretch wasn’t sure he wanted to consider what might be worse.
Silence, then the creature made a sound that Stretch slowly recognized as laughter. A strange clattering sound rose up and he opened his sockets again to see the creature rolling around in the leaves, still chuffing out great guffaws. Okay, getting eaten was bad enough, he didn’t need to be seasoned with any extra humiliation. He glared at the creature and huffed out, “what the hell is so funny?”
It rolled to its feet, clawed toes gouging into the leafy soil and returned that glare with sour amusement, "I'm not going to eat you, fool," it growled out scornfully, "The taste of idiot would spoil any meal. I told her you were mine, not mine to eat."
How that sort of face could raise its brow bones suggestively, Stretch didn’t know, but it took a minute for those words to combine with that expression. When it did, his shock and fear didn’t lesson, only took on another flavor.
"oh. oh, yours…you…uh." Stretch sat there dumbly, staring at the creature with wide sockets, ‘cause holy shit, it was fucking huge. He wondered if he wasn’t better off getting eaten.
The beast let out an irritated huff, its long tail lashing agitatedly. “Don’t look at me like that, I told her that to get her to leave, not because I was after a mate.”
“oh. right.” At least some part of him had already been consumed tonight, because someone had obviously already eaten whatever sense he still had rattling around.
“She won’t bother you again, but she’s hardly the only one out here looking for an easy meal. Can you walk?” The beast sat down, tail curling around its feet, and Stretch took that moment to scramble to his.
He gave himself a once-over, wriggling his ankles and bending his knees. Everything hurt, sure, he was gonna be one huge bruise tomorrow, but nothing was broken, thank the stars. “yeah, i’m okay.”
"Good,” The beast yawned, a weirdly benign way to show off those rows of menacingly sharp teeth. “Now get out."
Get out. Right. Getting out sounded like a top-notch plan. Stretch looked around at the woods, at the trees towering over them. There was no path, just a bunch of damn trees that all looked the same in the dark. "pal, i would love to, wanna tell me how?"
The creature let out an annoyed grumble and stood, pushed past him in a rough scrape of bone, "Follow me, outsider."
Follow me. Welp, he was at least seventy percent sure this one wasn’t gonna eat him and if they bumped into anything else that might, those claws and teeth would probably dissuade them better than Stretch’s current brand of useless. Cautiously, he trailed behind the creature, two steps behind that long tail that moved with sinuous ease. He still wasn’t sure quite what this guy was, but asking seemed kinda rude, all things considered, what with the saving his life and all. Seemed like getting saved was starting to become a trend here in Backwater and it was not one Stretch liked much. Someone else needed to take a turn at playing Lois Lane because he was done with his turn
But that didn’t mean that all questions were off the table. “what was that? that…lady thing?”
The creature didn’t turn around. “She was a penanggalan.”
“well, that sure cleared things up,” Stretch muttered. He followed the creature over a fallen tree, wincing as he scraped his ankle on the bark. “how did you even pronounce that? it sounds like you gargled with broken glass and chased it down with a bottle of motor oil.”
The creature didn’t seem to care much about linguistic issues, it didn’t even look back at Stretch to make sure he was keeping up, only kept forging the trail. “Be that as it may, it is what she is.”
“evil penguin, got it.” Then warily, not sure he wanted the answer. “so what would have happened if she’d bit me. you would’ve handed me over with a bone apple tea and a napkin?”
“If she’d bitten you, I would have had to kill you.” It was said so matter-of-factly that at first it didn’t even register.
Once it did, the new murder threat did not sit well. Stretch stopped, clapping a hand over his mouth against a sudden rush of nausea and took a stumbling step back as he stared at the creature in horror. “you…what??”
The creature paused then and this time it looked back at him, crimson eyes cutting through the blackness. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”
“oh, like that’s reassuring!”
“It would have been necessary,” the creature said heavily. Their tail lashed agitatedly. “Their bite is infectious. You’d soon be covered with running sores and an insatiable urge to spread that bite to others until you died in slow agony. There is no cure, it’s generally an exceedingly rare disease. They usually eat their prey entirely.”
“oh, well, nice to see they have their own version of pandemic control!”
The creature turned away and started walking again. “Better that than the alternative.”
“so why didn’t you kill it, then?” The evil penguin was still out there looking for a snack and whoever it ran into next time probably wouldn’t be so lucky.
The creature stopped again so suddenly that Stretch ran into it, wincing as that agitated tail lashed against him like a whip.
“And are you one who dictates what should live and what should die?” the creature demanded. “Do others get to be predator or prey by your leave? She was hunting in the manner of her kind and you think you can demand her life as penance for that?”
“uh.” His first instinct was to say fuck, yes, but a harder look at it all made him think this guy had a point. As much as he didn’t want to be anyone’s lunch special, could he really fault another creature for simply doing what they did? It was an uncomfortable thought and maybe one he’d revisit later, but for now he only said, softly, “no. i don’t. you’re right, sorry.”
The creature stared at him with those burning eyes then swung back around and walked on, Stretch at his heels, and there didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
The walk back took longer than he expected; it was slow going, it felt like the trees were closed in around him and he kept stumbling into them, the rough bark scraping his bones and catching at his clothes. It was getting colder as well, his thin t-shirt and shorts offering little protection against the chill. Stretch started to shiver, wrapping his arms around himself to hold in whatever meagre warmth he could, but he could still hear the dull rattle of his own bones as he shook.
The creature paused and made a weird, rough sound deep in its throat.
"what? what it is?" Stretch looked around a little wildly, half expecting to see something else crawling out of the shrubbery, ghouls, vampires, the knights of Ni, who the fuck knew.
What he wasn’t expecting was for the creature to say abruptly, "Get on my back."
"uhhhh.” There was probably a good reply for that, but Stretch felt like his mind short-circuited, leaving him with only a mess of vowels and constants to string together into incoherency.
"Get on my back," the creature repeated impatiently, “I'll carry you."
Well. If this guy was gonna eat him, he'd already be chow. When in the woods, do as the creatures did, he guessed.
The creature crouched down and Stretch managed to clumsily clamber up, using the bristling bones as handholds until he could settle on its spine. It was more comfortable than he would have guessed and almost before he finished the thought, they were off. He scrambled to grab hold, clinging desperately as it ran unerringly through the woods. Its large paws were silent as they fell on the underbrush, never missing a step or falling for a trick of shadows, weaving easily between the tree trunks and bushes so that they didn’t even brush against Stretch’s legs. He huddled down against the spine behind that large, ridged skull, and into the warm bone beneath him, and let the world fade around him.
It seemed like hardly any time at all passed before the creature slowed again, then stopped. Stretch slowly loosened his hold, half-expecting to find something blocking their path. But in front of them was the tree line and he could see a single yellowed light in the distance, the one from Red’s porch.
Stretch slid off the creatures back and took a couple of stumbling steps towards it, choking on relief and wonder.
“how did you know to bring me here…” Stretch trailed off and looked back. Those crimson eyes cut through the darkness and memory clicked like a key turning in a lock, a half-forgotten dream of crimson eyes through window glass, staring in at him. “it’s you! you’ve been watching me!”
The creature only gazed back at him, unperturbed. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“the fuck you don’t, you liar!” Stretch sputtered. “I saw you outside my window, you…you creeper!”
Maybe not wise to shout names at the dragon creature who’d saved his life, but it’d been a long night. Didn’t seem to matter much, the creature only rolled their shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. “You’re a stranger on my territory. That bears watching.”
“oh, are there bears out there now?” Stretch snapped. “are they spying on me, too? ‘cause i have the right to bear arms of my own, you know!” Or, you know, he bet Miss Maggie sold civil war muskets alongside the bicycles and probably wouldn’t bat an eye to sell him one.
An irritated exhale puffed smoke out through the creature’s nasal cavity. “All you have to do is stay out of the woods, fool. Even you should be able to manage that.”
“i didn’t mean to go into them the first time, my dog—my dog!” All his anger slid away and Stretch fell to his knees on the ground, his skull in his hands, “oh, fuck, the dog, red is gonna be so upset.” Tears were burning in his sockets, he’d fucked up big this time, Red was so kind to him and all Stretch gave him in return was bullshit and pain.
“Outsider, look up.” Gruffly said, but not unkind, and he did, still blinking hard. To see the dog sitting on the porch, wagging his tail happily and brimming with delight from their adventure.
“you little bastard,” Stretch said, relieved. Seriously, he was glad Mutt was okay and not only because it’d give him a chance to murder the brat himself.
A nudge at his back made him startled and he turned to see the creature next to him, “Go on, outsider. Count your luck this once and don’t come back to the woods.”
Like he was about to hop on Trip Advisor to plan another tour? “trust me, you wouldn’t catch me in there on a bet.”
“Keep your bets and stay away.” The creature turned and started walking towards the woods, only to hesitate, glancing back with those deep red eyes staring at him unblinking. “Outsider,” it said, softly, “I would have hated to kill you.”
“yeah, well, i would’ve hated to die, so, thanks, dread pirate roberts, i’m off.” Stretch didn’t wait for a reply, only scrambled to his feet and headed towards the house, but he could have sworn he heard a soft sound behind him, almost like a laugh.
He trudged up to the porch, squinting in the glaring yellow light and the dog let out a happy bark, tail wagging furiously.
“shhhh!” Stretch scolded. He snagged his bag from the chair on the back porch, he’d had more than enough of the night air, probably enough for ten years or so. “i’m mad enough at you right now, if you wake up red, i’m selling you to the kids tomorrow along with the candy.”
The dog only kept thumping his tail unrepentantly, following Stretch into the house all the way up the stairs to his room. He hopped up on the bed next to Stretch as he sprawled out on the thin mattress, settling in with a sigh by his hip.
Probably Stretch should take a hot shower and wash away any lingering stench from…everything. At the very least he could curl up on the bed in a ball of incoherent, gibbering terror, probably nobody would fault him for that. Probably.
Instead, he dug out his phone from his bag. It felt heavy in his hand, the weight of it more than mere electronics and he only held it for a long moment. Then he opened the messaging app and started scrolling through his brother’s old texts.
They were hard to read. The first few only curious, barely tinged with worry as they wondered where he’d gotten off to so early and with every lack of reply, the texts were worse, moving through panic to angry scolding, then outright fear before finally into resignation. His little brother was so very worried and had no idea where he was, if he was truly safe, and Stretch couldn’t even promise he was.
hey bro, i have a place to stay, he wrote, made some friends. i’m doing okay.
It was the truth. Mostly.
He started to set his phone aside, but before he could, it buzzed with a reply despite the late hour. Stretch took a long, slow breath, let it out, then checked the message.
That’s good. I love you, Pappy.
Tears stung in his sockets again, trailing down his face in twin warm streams. He wiped them away impatiently, then had to fend off the dog when he tried to lick them away with a whine. Once he was no longer in danger of smothering from a wet tongue, he texted back a hasty, love you, too, bro.
Stretch closed his sockets and let his head fall back against the thin pillow. One hand settled into the dog’s thick fur, the sturdy warmth of its body cuddled close to him and in the other, he held his phone tightly against his sternum, right over his damaged, aching soul.
~~*~~
tbc
#spicyhoney#papcest#keelywolfe#underfell#underswap#underfell papyrus#underswap papyrus#welcome to backwater
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The Expedition
January 15th 2021 - My team was off the coast of Japan, boating towards the location where several fishing boats disappeared. It was far off into the Pacific Ocean, practically international waters. I wondered what would make fisherman go so far if not for possible hotspots for fishing. All we knew was that they all went missing at this point. It took hours to make it to the coordinates where the boats vanished, and we came across a small volcanic island. It only had a steep volcano with a smoking peak, a faint red glow could be seen in the simmering plume. One of my team members suggested that we go to the island to see if there were any stranded survivors but quickly retracted when they realized that the coast of the island was too high for us to make landfall.
We decided on circling the island while one of the others searches for any stranded fishermen through the binoculars. We didn’t find anyone but we did find their wrecked ships. They were all ripped in pieces and charred black, melted like candlewax. I hypothesized that they were caught in the middle of the volcano’s eruptions and were not able to get offshore before the ash and lava probably bombarded them. It was now no longer considered a retrieval mission but now a forensic investigation of a natural disaster. Surprisingly, the team geologist noticed that where were caves in the smaller mountains around the enormous volcano. Perhaps, they could’ve made shelter in those caves from the eruption.
Before we could make a decision to approach unto land, we heard a sound unlike any we have heard before. It wasn’t any atmospheric sound and it wasn’t any kind of animal known in zoology. It sounded similar to that of those dinosaur movies and Godzilla. Everyone on the boat was silent, and the armed task force were aiming their rifles at the sky. There was a rythmic sound of thunder, like a beating of a loud drum. Of course, it wasn’t thunder. It was the beating of large wings. We heard the roar again and saw it. The wings of this previously unknown creature blocked out the sun for a second and the size was comparable of that of a plane. One of the riflemen compared it to a Northrop X-12A. From its mouth, it spewed fire into the peak of the volcano. The plume grew larger and more red, and we all had the same conclusion. This was a dragon. We had stumbled upon a dragon nesting ground where the fishermen were most likely eaten.
Without a second thought, we drove our boat away from the island as fast as we could, avoiding being noticed by the creature in the grey overcast sky. There had to be more than one on that island, and I will report to my lab colleagues of what our team found. Fortunately, I found out later when we left the island that one of my teammates recorded footage and photographs of the island, and the dragon inhabiting it. It will take months or perhaps years to go there again. At first, the police said it was merely some sort of anomaly, but now we know that we have discovered a new species, and it remains to be seen as to what should be done next. Perhaps another, more covert, expedition. For now, we can only speculate on what it eats, how it reproduces and plan ahead.
#dragon#dragons#volcano#island#japan#original fiction#original story#short story#short fiction#creative writing#writing#writeblr#one shot#oneshot
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week 9.
this week I loved . . .
I have two favourites from the same author, so I figured they deserved the top spot.
To Be Alone by @charmtion
Dagger to her heart how he looks — here, now — a world away from that wooden king in her arms beneath a waterfall.
He is candlewax here. Alive as rain in the moonlight. Every bit of him aglow. Muscles flexing beneath the scar-flecked skin of his back. Ink-dark hair half-caught in a tie at his nape. Pretty porcelain fingers tangled in the rest of it. Moving his head this way and that. Low, feral hum rumbling in his throat. A sound she’s never heard him make before. Even back on the ship in that low, dim-lit bunk. Looks at him now. Realises he is a different beast. A different man. One she never really knew.
[or a dragon queen stumbles upon a scene of two wolves tangled up in a sunlit bedchamber...]
a d*ny pov of her stumbling across jonsa!!!! I love!!!! much less angsty than the second one tbh.
Enough of Agony by @charmtion
For a moment, she thinks the gods have given back only what they took: a prayer for him, and him alone. Thinks it even as her hair ruffles in the wingbeat stirring the skies overhead.
Her mind clears in the same moment that Jon meets her gaze. It is almost nothing — almost — the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes narrow, the way the fingers of his right hand freeze on the leather reins. But it is enough. She looks over his shoulder, spots the figure that rides beside him. Silver-gold hair, little bells lost in the braided depths of it; but their song is drowned out by the laughter echoing in the halls of her heart.
He is back, so goes their jest. He is back. Isn’t this what you wanted?
Sansa waits. Jon returns. Dragons claim the skies — even as wolves move together in the moonlit dark [post 8x01].
a fix it of sorts, but it includes references to a relationship pre-dragonstone, which ... well 👀
honourable mention . . .
nothing last forever / this is gonna take me down by lcdysansa
Yes, he is an asshole. Solely because she wants him to be. Because it’s easier to explain why she is so hurt when she knew exactly what she was getting into the first time she fucked him. To explain why pain and disappointment numb her body after he tells her, “Not on set,” and the director yells “Action!”
The lights blind her and she puts a smirk on her face. Action.
it’s a jonsa version of tswift’s wildest dreams video! how more perfect could it get? seriously, this fic is great, and serves some serious angst-y feels, and even though it’s a WIP you should read the first chapter anyway.
#jonsa#jon x sansa#jonsa fic#jon x sansa fic#actually jonsa#actualllyjonsa#this week I loved . . .#lady alice's weekly fic rec
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Rolf: Tricky Archer (Unit Review)
Available at 4-5★ (Tempest Trials+ Reward)
Lvl 40 Stats (Flaw/Neutral/Asset)
Note: As a Tempest Trials+ reward, Rolf does not have access to boons/assets and banes/flaws.
HP: 36/40/43
Atk: 27/30/33
Spd: 33/36/39
Def: 24/28/31
Res: 20/23/27
Neutral BST: 157
Max Dragonflowers: 5
Skills
Weapon: Candlewax Bow+ (300 SP)
Mt: 12. Rng: 2. Grants Atk/Spd/Def/Res + 3. After combat, units takes 6 damage.
Bow. Can be inherited. Can be refined.
Assist: Shove (150 SP)
Move adjacent ally 1 space further away.
Can be inherited. Cannot use: Staff.
Special: None
A: None
B: Desperation 3 (200 SP)
If unit initiates combat with HP ≤ 75%, unit makes follow-up attack after first attack.
Can be inherited.
C: Odd Spd Wave 3 (240 SP)
At the start of odd numbered turns, grants unit and adjacent ally +6 Spd for 1 turn. Unit receives buff even when not adjacent to an ally.
Can be inherited.
Analysis
Arriving alongside his Tellius comrade is Rolf, the latest ranged cavalry unit. He is one of only four bow cavaliers in-game and one of only two considered F2P accessible. Taking his stat spread and base kit into account it’s obvious that Rolf heavily focuses on his offenses and, more importantly, on being faster than his opponents.
Rolf’s stat spread doesn’t differ much when compared to his competition. He boasts offensive stats starting at 30/36 Atk/Spd and defenses of 28/23 Def/Res. From looking at this stat spread alone we can recognize that, more than anything, Rolf values his Spd. This belief is expanded on when we look at his base kit. His default bow, Candlewax Bow+, grants the wielder Atk/Spd/Def/Res +3 and deals 6 damage after each round of combat. His C skill, Odd Spd Wave, only increases his chances of getting doubles boosting his Spd by +6 on odd numbered turns. From these two skills alone Rolf can reach a max of 45 Spd. His B skill, Desperation, makes use of the fact that Rolf will most likely be doubling his foes.
Rolf does have his drawbacks. His low Atk may result in him doing less if no damage at all to some opponents. Special care should be taken to boost this stat as much as possible. His middling Def allows him to take a hit but little else. Cavalry effective weapons will hamper Rolf’s stride. Regardless, if given the chance Rolf will prove to be a good addition to a player’s barracks.
On his first merge, Rolf will gain +2 HP/Spd and +1 Atk.
Reasons to Invest in Rolf
You like Rolf and intend to use him in a core team, whether it be for Arena, Aether Raids, or a Cavalry team
You’re interested in building Rolf because he is a F2P friendly bow cavalier and may be used in future F2P guides
You have obtained all or most previous copies made available and do not mind the grail cost
Reasons NOT to Invest in Rolf
You don’t intend on using him as a core on any team or in any PVE game modes such as Rival Domains or Grand Conquest
You don’t play Aether Raids and have no interest in obtaining grails
You consider Rolf’s playstyle and base kit uninteresting and would rather fodder his skills off to other heroes you use
You already have an invested bow unit that you already use on your core Arena & or Aether Raids team
Similar Units
Note: As a Tempest Trials+ reward Rolf does not have access to boons/assets or banes/flaws and therefore is not directly comparable to any summonable units.
Brave Lyn: Brave Lady (35/33/35/18/28)
Rolf: Tricky Archer (+5/-3/+1/+10/-5)
Note: Brave Lyn has access to uninheritable skills and is thus not directly comparable.
Sue: Doe of the Plains (36/32/38/23/20)
Rolf: Tricky Archer (+4/-2/-2/+5/+3)
Builds
Budget/Low Investment:
Rolf’s kit comes practically built and requires minimal investment.
On the set to the left we use the common Fury/Desperation setup. Candlewax Bow+ has the skill Fury built into it, meaning that Rolf will take 12 damage after each round of combat. This will help him fall into Desperation range incredibly easy as he’ll only need to engage in one fight to get into the right HP range. We keep his C skill and slap on an Atk refine and the Atk/Spd seal to further boost his offenses. Rolf will find himself doubling his foes often as on odd numbered turns he’ll reach a max of 50 Spd in combat.
The set on the right purely focuses on boosting his Atk if Fury is not available. Here we run double Atk +3 skills in order to push his Atk to a respectable 51. Unlike the set on the left we won’t take an extra 6 damage after combat putting less of a strain on Rolf. We take a Spd refined bow to push his Spd since we have no skills increasing it outside of Odd Spd Wave.
Rolf’s seal options include: Attack+3, Spd +3, Atk/Spd 2, Spd/Def 2, Bond skills, Blow skills and Chill skills.
Offensive:
Rolf performs best on the offensive. As a bow unit he has access to many powerful bows that will, depending on the bow, help him perform.
The set on the left removes everything from his base kit focusing on utilizing his high Spd in a Firesweep set. Firesweep Bow will prevent opponents from counter attacking in exchange leaving the wielder unable to counterattack. To best take advantage of any free hits we make we run Poison Strike and double Savage Blow. This allows Rolf to act as a chipper as well as an offensive unit; should he fail to finish off an opponent, they’ll take an additional 10 damage after combat because of Poison Strike. Any foes within two spaces of Rolf’s opponent will take 14 damage from his double Savage Blow allowing him to soften his foes nearby for a potential sweep or to assist an ally.
The set on the right heavily focuses on hitting his opponents for as many hits as possible using Brave Bow+. Should Rolf find himself fast enough, he may hit his opponent 4 times before they make their first counterattack. We run Life and Death and Atk/Spd in order to counteract Brave Bow+’s Spd penalty and low might. Once in Desperation range however Rolf will have an easier time sweeping his opponents, getting in 3 hits before activating Luna. With all his skills in play, Rolf will have 47/47 Atk/Spd.
High Investment:
Being a cavalry unit does limit some of his skill inheritance options. Make no mistake though: with the proper skillset Rolf can be a difficult opponent to counter.
The set on the left focuses on making Rolf a potent sweeper. Monstrous Bow will, after combat, inflict the Panic status effect on foes within two spaces of his target for the duration of their next actions. We run Pulse Smoke to then ploy those same foes of their specials. This is especially useful in getting rid of instant specials that exist on units such as Ophelia, Velouria and Infantry Pulse teams. To ensure that Rolf takes as little damage as possible while fighting his opponents we run Windsweep. This skill may be swapped out with Watersweep if countering magic users or dragons. Both skills require foes to have the same amount of speed as Rolf if not higher. To make this near impossible we run Atk/Spd Solo in junction with Darting Blow for a grand total of 53/55 Atk/Spd with no further buffs.
The set on the right seeks to stack Rolf’s offenses as high as possible while granting him some mixed bulk. Big-Catch Bow will grant Rolf Atk/Spd +5 in combat if his opponent has a status effect inflicted on them such as Panic, Gravity, or a Ploy. To increase his odds of getting this debuff, we run Chill Spd as his seal and Def Smoke as his C skill; both skills will ploy his opponents granting him his bow’s in-combat bonus. Atk/Res Bond 4 is taken in junction with Mystic Boost to both increase his damage output and to negate damage that is calculated using the lower of an opponent’s Def/Res. Mystic Boost will also heal for 6 HP after a round of combat Rolf fights in keeping his sustainability up. Bond skills work wonderfully with specials such as Blue Flame which will add 25 pure damage if the user activates it while next to an ally. With all his skills active, Rolf will have 60/46/32/34 Atk/Spd/Def/Res.
#feh#fe heroes#fire emblem heroes#unit review#colorless bow/cavalry#mod asama#A Monstrous Harvest#Rolf: Tricky Archer
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To Be Alone
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LuAy4i
by Charmtion
Dagger to her heart how he looks — here, now — a world away from that wooden king in her arms beneath a waterfall.
He is candlewax here. Alive as rain in the moonlight. Every bit of him aglow. Muscles flexing beneath the scar-flecked skin of his back. Ink-dark hair half-caught in a tie at his nape. Pretty porcelain fingers tangled in the rest of it. Moving his head this way and that. Low, feral hum rumbling in his throat. A sound she’s never heard him make before. Even back on the ship in that low, dim-lit bunk. Looks at him now. Realises he is a different beast. A different man. One she never really knew.
[or a dragon queen stumbles upon a scene of two wolves tangled up in a sunlit bedchamber...]
Words: 1860, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/M
Characters: Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Additional Tags: Season 8, Masks, Puppets, Accidental Voyeurism, Political Jon, Sansa Stark is my Queen, Sweet Sweet Jonsa, Two Wolves and One Gobsmacked Dragon, I Don't Even Know
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LuAy4i
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Prompt #5: Vault
@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, I’ve seen people wax about this prompt so I’m going for the goddamn throat. By the Twelve, this felt good.
Written to music. Credit to Tender, who crafts some fine beats.
---
C’arliani could feel his hands on her shoulders. A weight pressed behind her, long fingers moving from her shoulder to trace letters in the fogging pane of a window overlooking a rain-soaked city, another arm circling around and resting on her breastbone, to pull her close while his weight shifted. The heat of his face as it drew close to hers, his chin resting on her shoulder as they both looked outside, a cityscape illuminated in lighting and couched in thunder as the skies wept with relief. The heroes, returned. The monsters, slain. A tale as old as Time.
Closing her eyes, she felt her own hands on his arm as he threatened to pull them both overbalance simply through dint of his stature. The lightness in her chest as she laughed, echoed by his own. A moment of cheer, rare in the chaos of the so-called Seventh Astral Era where Garleans plotted and dragons arose and young Elezen men made Grand Companies and grander plans.
These were moments of cheer that C’arliani Khilo kept deep within, not stored in trinkets of precious gems and busts of stone. These riches of emotion, of closeness, being open, but not exposed. Vulnerable, but not endangered. Lost...and yet found, again and again in a game that had no beginning nor end.
A moment of pure mutual adoration, as cheek met cheek and the candlewax of tension melted away under a flame of simple, yet powerful affection.
A moment C’arliani would ever keep in the unassailable vault that was her heart.
The rumbling skies provided a fine excuse to draw closer to him, her back pressing into his chest while her hands kept his arm nearby. His face was close enough that she could feel a current pass between them - an energy generated by the rarest of all things that C’arliani ever discovered.
Would this be the moment, she thought, here? Now? I know so much, and yet...
She ached. It was not an ache she was used to, not in the long years she had spent running away from the Coeurl, or learning how to wield the implements of destruction she favored.
Nor was it the ache of loss so great that C’arliani would not speak for long years, holding another memory in her vault until the very defenses rotted away and left her without.
He is so close, she thought. If only I were not...
“You were trouble,” he said, his voice light, yet quiet. It needn’t be loud to convey the language unspoken, and it was a dialect she had come to know well.
Her breath quickened in her chest. She could not hide the surprise her body felt as it tensed, but it was only for an instant before her anxiety faded. Even so, it was a moment before she could reply.
“Not all the trouble,” C’arliani replied. Lightning flashed , illuminating that which both of them wanted to see. Thunder continued to rumble, echoing through stone streets and in two beating hearts that were quickened, certainly, but not by the weather.
They drew close, tightening their grips upon one another, and there were no more words as the skies rumbled once again. She could only close her eyes and breathe in the scent of his presence, gathered as a field of the rarest of spices. The tension inside her burst, and she could feel a wellspring inside her that threatened to drown them both.
“You’ve got me all to yourself,” his voice whispered in her ear.
C’arliani held her breath for ten long seconds, placing her hand and a gentle weight against the cold, dry pane of glass. The wellspring slowed to a stream, then a trickle, then only a few tears to streak the side of her face.
The only words she heard were the whispers of ghosts.
The things we do to be remembered, she thought, and she turned from the window to see the door open into a sitting room, and a broken shield adorning the wall.
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Daily Dragon #14
Chisato
Hatched her the day Slime/Sludge was released. The plan was to give her Sludge and CandleWax Slime, and then breed them until all their descents had both genes visible for all modern breeds. Might still do it, but who knows.
Colours: Carrot/Storm/Spring
Eye Colour: Shadow Rare
Current to the left, potential Scry on the right
She’s the only active dragon with this colour scheme in the site.
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Ember’s Lair Reviews: Arcani #180598
@arcani-fr ohh wow your lair!!!
horus!! such a beautiful baby boy i love how well everything matches!! that accent is so pretty everything about him is so pretty he’s such a good dragon
oh wow, hyacinth!! those deep browns suit her so well, and i love her outfit!! her tert along with the candles makes me think she’s filled with candlewax that she uses to make...more candles.
lucid is such a nice looking dragon!!! he looks like a faerie king!! big and dark and mysterious but also charming and kind!! i def wouldn’t wanna mess with him!
okay, first thought seeing ragnar was. this is him this is ragnar the red from skyrim. hes so fancy!! what a pretty wildclaw i love everything about him!!
you have so many nice dragons im glad i got to see them!!!
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20 questions (meme!)
Tagged by: @invite-me-to-your-memories wow this is late sorry bud
Name: Arenal (on the internet, anyway)
Nicknames: in real life just a shortening of my real name, and on one of my groupchats, Fuckdragon Hotshot Rocket Queen🚀🌌🔬🗡🐲 [rocket, milky way, microscope, telescope, dragon emojis]
Zodiac sign: Scorpio for the Greek one, Rat for the Chinese one
Height: 5 ft 2
Orientation: uhhhh let’s go with asexual/biromantic and polyamorous
Nationality: America
Favorite fruit: i love so many! lychee and coconut probably top the list but there’s also grapefruit, some kinds of apples, pomelo, mangosteen...i’m sure i’m forgetting some
Favorite season: Fall is the best--perfect crisp air and tree leaves changing beautiful colors, basically can wear whatever clothes you want no matter the weight, and a decent amount of light till like november
Favorite book: No. Books are so good. How tf do I choose.
Favorite flower: once again, i love so many--lupine, lotus, sunflowers (the huge ones), and magnolia are my favorites but i also love marigolds, lilacs, irises...
Favorite scent: it seems i don’t have favorites of anything. dark chocolate, grapefruit, lavender, lilac, honeysuckle, old books, new books, candlewax/smoke, mint...
Favorite color: TURQUOISE. i lied about not having favorites. turquoise has been my favorite color since i learned to talk, basically. and i mean one very specific shade of turquoise, the color of water i’ve seen a few times in sea caves and grottos and island coasts, places like that. ultramarine is a really close second, though.
Favorite animal: To watch video of and learn about, wolves, dolphins, leopards (including panthers, snow leopards, etc.), many kinds of snakes, hawks/falcons. But i’d love to own a dog someday. Preferably a big playful one.
Coffee, tea, or hot cocoa: I consume SO MUCH tea, but I do love hot cocoa more when i make it with unsweetened cacao powder and salt and vanilla extract
Average sleep hours: about 7 hours a night, like 2-9 AM or 1-8 AM. I’m trying to be better. i’d like to be the kind of person who can go to sleep between midnight and 1 and get 8 hours of sleep and feel healthy.
Cat or dog person: mmm i like both but I’d rather own a dog, because they strike me as easier to communicate with and more playful on average. plus you can get BIG ones.
Favorite fictional character: so many! when i was a kid, i identified with basically every spirited and/or bookish girl in the fiction i read, bonus points if they were older sisters--Ella and Sarah from All of a Kind Family, Anne from Anne of Green Gables, and Rosalind and Skye from The Penderwicks. These girls hold a really special place in my heart. farther along in my life,, there’s been Donna from Doctor Who, Crowley from Good Omens, Lymond, Philippa, and Kate from The Lymond Chronicles...there are just so many wonderful characters out there. i’m sure i’m forgetting some.
Number of blankets you sleep with: If the room is an appropriate temperature for it, one topsheet, one knit blanket, and one fluffy comforter. however, at home, i share a room with my sister and it’s fucking freezing so each of our beds has about five thick blankets on it, no joke.
Dream trip: i have been on a lot of amazing trips so like. i don’t have just one dream trip and i’ve already done several dream trips. i seriously want to see Indonesia, Australia, lots of places...but i think what would make something a dream trip for me is being able to go with friends. honestly the place would matter less if i could share the experiences with my best friends from high school or college.
Blog created: 2011 or 2012--10th grade, i forget exactly when
I tag: no pressure tho! @roundhousechick, @canadianunicorncorps, @szababa
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