10-17-2021, 06:03 PM
The forest is as much a home to him as any other place in this vastly small world, and it should come as no surprise to anyone that he finds some level of solace among the quiet trees and reaching plants when so much of it seems to be tied intrinsically to his dna. It comes first from a grandmother that he has yet to meet, though the stories of her are incredible things and he has no doubt that she is someone he will love. His favorite tale is of the way Leliana had saved her daughter, his own mother, and used her magic to create a new body for Linnea when she was consumed by the fires of unchecked war. She had made it possible for her daughter to grow as if from a seed, and perhaps that love had been a seed, building a secret garden around Linnea in which she could grow and relearn this new version of herself.
There is an immense sense of pride that lives like a flame inside his chest simply knowing that the capacity of love and loyalty in his lineage is something worth being proud of. That his mother had died to protect his father while they were just barely older than children. That his grandmother had remade her the only way she knew how so that Linnea could live and love and discover all those cut-short potentials. That when the dark had come and Linnea had been near death, his father had found her again and taken her away to a place where there was still sun, a place not bent on killing her. A place they began both a life together and a family.
His is a lineage worth knowing, but with that comes the weight of expectation (his, only his) to be something as great as what came before him.
Physically, he is the perfect blending of both of his parents. Grey as his mother had been before that borrowed body, and blue in the same iridescent shade of his father. Even his abilities blended both parts of them into one, filling him as though filling a mold. From his fathers family came the dragon whose wings and horns and spinal crest he bore, but it was his mothers family who carved those things out of dense green leaf and worn smooth ridges of wood and root.
He knows he looks more like some strange woodland fae princeling than he does any kind of dragon, so he supposes Elliana will not be too startled when he pulls himself free of the shadows beneath the nearest trees to join her. He looks like someone that belongs here, someone made for this place with his half-crown of worn and dried root, with the ivy that climbs through his mane and his tail, wandering over the wooden ridges along his spine and around the towers of the horns that rise around his ears.
“Do you ever wonder what they’re thinking?” He asks, and his voice is something that belongs in this place, something deep and dark in the way of solitude. “So small and so very mortal, and yet they land on beasts the size of mountains as though they have no fear.” His gaze had been on the moth as it flew harmlessly out of reach, but it swings to her now, a shade of green so pale it might be glass. “I think I would not want to sunbathe on the skin of a creature infinitely larger than me, but perhaps I lack a sense of adventure.” His smile is something half-way and crooked, not insincere but certainly only surface deep yet. “My name is Quake, care if I join you on this walk to..” He cleaves a space in the silence for her, leaves an opening for her to name her destination.
There is an immense sense of pride that lives like a flame inside his chest simply knowing that the capacity of love and loyalty in his lineage is something worth being proud of. That his mother had died to protect his father while they were just barely older than children. That his grandmother had remade her the only way she knew how so that Linnea could live and love and discover all those cut-short potentials. That when the dark had come and Linnea had been near death, his father had found her again and taken her away to a place where there was still sun, a place not bent on killing her. A place they began both a life together and a family.
His is a lineage worth knowing, but with that comes the weight of expectation (his, only his) to be something as great as what came before him.
Physically, he is the perfect blending of both of his parents. Grey as his mother had been before that borrowed body, and blue in the same iridescent shade of his father. Even his abilities blended both parts of them into one, filling him as though filling a mold. From his fathers family came the dragon whose wings and horns and spinal crest he bore, but it was his mothers family who carved those things out of dense green leaf and worn smooth ridges of wood and root.
He knows he looks more like some strange woodland fae princeling than he does any kind of dragon, so he supposes Elliana will not be too startled when he pulls himself free of the shadows beneath the nearest trees to join her. He looks like someone that belongs here, someone made for this place with his half-crown of worn and dried root, with the ivy that climbs through his mane and his tail, wandering over the wooden ridges along his spine and around the towers of the horns that rise around his ears.
“Do you ever wonder what they’re thinking?” He asks, and his voice is something that belongs in this place, something deep and dark in the way of solitude. “So small and so very mortal, and yet they land on beasts the size of mountains as though they have no fear.” His gaze had been on the moth as it flew harmlessly out of reach, but it swings to her now, a shade of green so pale it might be glass. “I think I would not want to sunbathe on the skin of a creature infinitely larger than me, but perhaps I lack a sense of adventure.” His smile is something half-way and crooked, not insincere but certainly only surface deep yet. “My name is Quake, care if I join you on this walk to..” He cleaves a space in the silence for her, leaves an opening for her to name her destination.
QUAKE
i leaned in and let it hurt
@Elliana