03-03-2020, 01:18 PM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alex Brush|Assistant|Annie Use Your Telescope' rel='stylesheet'><style>.Leilan3container {position:relative;width:500px;background-color:#0F0E12;border-radius:3px;border: 1px solid #dcf3ff;} .Leilan3quote1 {position:relative;width:500px;top:10px;font-family:Annie Use Your Telescope;font-size:12pt;color:#AC5330;text-shadow:0px 0px 2px #FEFAFB;} .Leilan3quote2 {position:relative;z-index:3;width:500px;height:180px;top:238px;background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(15,14,18,1) 0%, rgba(15,14,18,0) 100%);background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(15,14,18,1) 0%, rgba(15,14,18,0) 100%);background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(15,14,18,1) 0%,rgba(15,14,18,0) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(15,14,18,,1) 0%,rgba(15,14,18,0) 100%);font-family:Annie Use Your Telescope;font-size:12pt;color:#AC5330;text-shadow:0px 0px 2px #FEFAFB;} .Leilan3name {z-index:2;position:relative;top:745px;left:180px;font-family:'Alex Brush'; color:#dcf3ff;font-size:30pt;} .Leilan3img {position:relative;border-radius:8px;margin-top:30px;bottom:0px;} .Leilan3text {position:relative;z-index:3;background-color:#0F0E12;width:470px;font-family:'Assistant';font-size:10pt;color:#FEFAFB;margin:30px 0px -220px 0px;} .Leilan3-name-sub {position:relative;z-index:3;top:730px;left:165px;font-family:'Assistant';font-size:7pt;color:#FEFAFB;} </style><center><div class="Leilan3container"><div class="Leilan3quote1"><i>You’re<font color=#dcf3ff> uncontrollable</font><br>and we are <font color=#dcf3ff>unlovable</font></i></div><div class="Leilan3text">She calls, he comes. Perhaps he is just curious, or perhaps he is similar to her; perhaps he is not. Perhaps he is ambitious enough to come, despite knowing he should not ask for more; perhaps he knows that he should not ask for more, should not want for more, and still does. Perhaps she has the only way to get there, at least that he knows of. Perhaps he already knows there is no other way than this one - there are things that one may do, and things that one has long ago decided that perhaps there, there is the line. Perhaps he’s worked too hard to give it up, now.
Perhaps he’s drawn to her power, her potential, the possibilities that surround her like a magical aura: just like once ice would surround him: ice that he now has become.
Insects and small burrowers, the smallest survivors of the flames, flee when the dragon moves. Silver and bronze glimmer in the green and blue northern lights when his scaled limbs are stretched, and the colors are reflected by the blue of his eyes and the clear, sharp ice horns atop his head and spine. As his tail sweeps from its former position, icicles, snow drifts and hailstones scatter like little gemstones from a treasure hoard - the nest he’d created for himself was a cold throne of self-made treasure. Ice at its finest, as it should be.
He might never forgive the fire-bearer for destroying all of it.
His elongated neck moves like a snake as he shakes his head; then, his silver-scaled legs bury black claws in the ashen ground of the Isle, a three-step move bringing him besides the pile of snow and ice that he’d created.
The place is nearly empty of life, but its death is only the beginning. A beginning for him, a newly-made dragon, to make something of it. It crosses his mind briefly that the fairies might be against it, that they wanted something else for him, but if that were the case, they shouldn’t have turned his once-friend towards destroying this place. Now, it had been his for the taking, as it should have been long ago, as it should have been a shorter while ago.
A low, slow rumble from his draconic body is outed, holding the middle of a yawn and a content groan from the stretch. Immediately after, his belly protests his lack of food - another reason he doesn’t think kindly of the other dragon anymore. And yet, he knows he can handle the hunger. Its primal urge drives him to her, in the end, and gives him a clearer head. He gets no joy or contentment from lazing about, from power unused.
Giant, frost-tipped wings are spread with an ease that might not directly be expected of the male in his new shape, but he had always been bulky and the wings had been tried before. The male just has one problem; he has to trot a few stupid paces before taking to the air, as he is not on a leverage nor near one of any kind. His waggle causes a trembling in the ground, and he can only hope no-one was around to witness it.
Winging himself to the Mountain base, he is the first to arrive. His dragon shape is too large, but he doesn’t feel very horse-like at the moment; he does not feel it enough to allow a shift back. His dragon-shifting had been spontaneous, inspired by another dragon’s challenge, and being the only dragon left on the Isle, he had been happy with his shape so far. Too happy to think about how the change actually worked, too content and too lazy to think about mastering the ability in full.
He lands and causes a mild tremor as his claws dig into the earth. The folding of his wings make grasses and smaller plants sway in a newly whipped up stream of air, but the ice-attuned male has no eye for the tiny things that move.
Eyeing power-radiating mare on the ground, the ice dragon curls his tail around his body in a cat-like manner, unblinking while he moves. He lays down on the ground; ambition can be paired with caution, at least when in the face of someone more powerful. His eye level is still higher than the mare’s, but now they can and will see eye to eye.
Heartbeats pass, and the grass he previously landed in stops swaying.
”I haven’t dreamt in a while, but I do have a wish.” His voice rumbles low through the place, carrying far, but he doesn’t really mind. ”If I had my way, I would be the king in the north, and rule over ice and more,” the states. He lifts his head a little, knowing fully well that he could accomplish it, however many millennia it might take. Presently though, he might need more able bodies. An army, or simply a guard, depending on how easily others could be swayed. Diplomats who might threaten the outside world with something that actually exists. Allies perhaps, if those could be trusted with leaving his lands alone, though probably not. All those things, he does not have. Not yet. A trickle of her power might just do the trick.
”I might be persuaded to give away a certain daughter of mine, or if you rather desire, the ability to create them.”
He could offer her more than that; a position as queen or a set of his memories if she was the sentimental type, and even both - she probably knows she can ask for such things, but he doesn’t want to give her everything, and certainly won’t offer to give her all in the first round of negotiation. He knows he has the means, eventually, to outlive all those around him, and take what they leave behind when they are done for.
Time and death give the opportunity for growth, after all.
But with those comes uncertainty, and at the very moment, he only knows for sure that her way could be much, much quicker, and much more satisfying for the both of them.</div><div class="Leilan3quote2"><br><i><font color=#dcf3ff>and I don’t want you to think that I </font>care<font color=#dcf3ff><br>I never would, I never </font>could <font color=#dcf3ff>again</font></i></div><div class="Leilan3name">Leilan</div><div class="Leilan3-name-sub">no. 7 | ice forged in fire</div><img src="https://i.imgur.com/Ejkxnzx.jpg" class="Leilan3-img"></div></center>
Leilan is loyal to (Un)Icicle Isle.
He would give away: Yuki (whom I play), like as a slave or to kill or whatever else (though I liked teasing Ratty with the idea of him giving Beryl away so I didn’t name her specifically) or his ability to have daughters at all (a defect that could be something like a reduced fertility as in if it rolls to be a girl they’d be stillborn, or only one breeding per calendar year might work and they’re always male, idk), and/or something more if she wants to ask it.
Feel free to twist his giving away his daughter into actually severing their ties magically (in the database), and/or taking away his memories of her.
Ratty, fee free to have Beryl panic and cause a drama later on after this quest
Perhaps he’s drawn to her power, her potential, the possibilities that surround her like a magical aura: just like once ice would surround him: ice that he now has become.
Insects and small burrowers, the smallest survivors of the flames, flee when the dragon moves. Silver and bronze glimmer in the green and blue northern lights when his scaled limbs are stretched, and the colors are reflected by the blue of his eyes and the clear, sharp ice horns atop his head and spine. As his tail sweeps from its former position, icicles, snow drifts and hailstones scatter like little gemstones from a treasure hoard - the nest he’d created for himself was a cold throne of self-made treasure. Ice at its finest, as it should be.
He might never forgive the fire-bearer for destroying all of it.
His elongated neck moves like a snake as he shakes his head; then, his silver-scaled legs bury black claws in the ashen ground of the Isle, a three-step move bringing him besides the pile of snow and ice that he’d created.
The place is nearly empty of life, but its death is only the beginning. A beginning for him, a newly-made dragon, to make something of it. It crosses his mind briefly that the fairies might be against it, that they wanted something else for him, but if that were the case, they shouldn’t have turned his once-friend towards destroying this place. Now, it had been his for the taking, as it should have been long ago, as it should have been a shorter while ago.
A low, slow rumble from his draconic body is outed, holding the middle of a yawn and a content groan from the stretch. Immediately after, his belly protests his lack of food - another reason he doesn’t think kindly of the other dragon anymore. And yet, he knows he can handle the hunger. Its primal urge drives him to her, in the end, and gives him a clearer head. He gets no joy or contentment from lazing about, from power unused.
Giant, frost-tipped wings are spread with an ease that might not directly be expected of the male in his new shape, but he had always been bulky and the wings had been tried before. The male just has one problem; he has to trot a few stupid paces before taking to the air, as he is not on a leverage nor near one of any kind. His waggle causes a trembling in the ground, and he can only hope no-one was around to witness it.
Winging himself to the Mountain base, he is the first to arrive. His dragon shape is too large, but he doesn’t feel very horse-like at the moment; he does not feel it enough to allow a shift back. His dragon-shifting had been spontaneous, inspired by another dragon’s challenge, and being the only dragon left on the Isle, he had been happy with his shape so far. Too happy to think about how the change actually worked, too content and too lazy to think about mastering the ability in full.
He lands and causes a mild tremor as his claws dig into the earth. The folding of his wings make grasses and smaller plants sway in a newly whipped up stream of air, but the ice-attuned male has no eye for the tiny things that move.
Eyeing power-radiating mare on the ground, the ice dragon curls his tail around his body in a cat-like manner, unblinking while he moves. He lays down on the ground; ambition can be paired with caution, at least when in the face of someone more powerful. His eye level is still higher than the mare’s, but now they can and will see eye to eye.
Heartbeats pass, and the grass he previously landed in stops swaying.
”I haven’t dreamt in a while, but I do have a wish.” His voice rumbles low through the place, carrying far, but he doesn’t really mind. ”If I had my way, I would be the king in the north, and rule over ice and more,” the states. He lifts his head a little, knowing fully well that he could accomplish it, however many millennia it might take. Presently though, he might need more able bodies. An army, or simply a guard, depending on how easily others could be swayed. Diplomats who might threaten the outside world with something that actually exists. Allies perhaps, if those could be trusted with leaving his lands alone, though probably not. All those things, he does not have. Not yet. A trickle of her power might just do the trick.
”I might be persuaded to give away a certain daughter of mine, or if you rather desire, the ability to create them.”
He could offer her more than that; a position as queen or a set of his memories if she was the sentimental type, and even both - she probably knows she can ask for such things, but he doesn’t want to give her everything, and certainly won’t offer to give her all in the first round of negotiation. He knows he has the means, eventually, to outlive all those around him, and take what they leave behind when they are done for.
Time and death give the opportunity for growth, after all.
But with those comes uncertainty, and at the very moment, he only knows for sure that her way could be much, much quicker, and much more satisfying for the both of them.</div><div class="Leilan3quote2"><br><i><font color=#dcf3ff>and I don’t want you to think that I </font>care<font color=#dcf3ff><br>I never would, I never </font>could <font color=#dcf3ff>again</font></i></div><div class="Leilan3name">Leilan</div><div class="Leilan3-name-sub">no. 7 | ice forged in fire</div><img src="https://i.imgur.com/Ejkxnzx.jpg" class="Leilan3-img"></div></center>
Leilan is loyal to (Un)Icicle Isle.
He would give away: Yuki (whom I play), like as a slave or to kill or whatever else (though I liked teasing Ratty with the idea of him giving Beryl away so I didn’t name her specifically) or his ability to have daughters at all (a defect that could be something like a reduced fertility as in if it rolls to be a girl they’d be stillborn, or only one breeding per calendar year might work and they’re always male, idk), and/or something more if she wants to ask it.
Feel free to twist his giving away his daughter into actually severing their ties magically (in the database), and/or taking away his memories of her.
Ratty, fee free to have Beryl panic and cause a drama later on after this quest
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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