This dragonet is a cymbal crash on the planes of life, a burst of fire and flare that blazes freely in the light. This is no bulky bronze. Though undoubtedly powerful, as can be seen in every roll of his massive musculature, it has been spread out over a long, lean frame; he looks sleeker and lighter than a large brown might. His hide has to it an overall burnished, crimson tainted hue of bronze, not dark but lit up by miniscule motes of gold, with filaments of pure copper colors twining in random twists and sworls along his hips and sides. His muzzle is a wedge of bronze with the tip dipped in blood, thinly constructed with a long nose and thorned nostrils. Those thorns creep up to splay out over his high set eyeridges as well, though each thorn is mercifully blunt. Not so are his elongated headknobs, tapering lengths of gilt umber that lie close back to his head and end in cruel, curved points. Breaking the tawny coloration that covers much of his body, there is a splatter of deep, metallic russet that bleeds down from his spine, dripping to decorate the tops of his flanks and sweeping into his long, dextrous tail. His wings are where his coloration seems to have reached a truly admirable state of luster, the span of the actual wing muscles a range of golden speckled rust rubbed to a fine polish, sweeping into ethereal wingsails that are absolutely pallid, little more than a pure white membrane glittering with flecks of sparkle laden sepia. Hardly a contrast, his wingtips and claws are a pale, buttery yellow ivory, while the pallor is repeated in the thin, dagger-like spade at the end of his tail that has been splashed with spotted cream.
Egg Name and Description
Crimson Rebellion Egg
An optical illusion of brazen crimson shades sworls over this egg's surface, twisting and bulging as if the egg's inhabitant were doing everything it could to escape. It isn't chaotic but purposeful, splashes of silvery white showing where the red seemingly pulses into a concave flex. Maroon mingles with the brilliant hue, casting shadows and making each of those hypnotic shapes ever so slightly more realistic, adding reality to illusion. The top of the egg look as though someone took a handful of snow and threw it across the top spitefully, speckled, angled dots edged in deep red only to spill down in a few places, pooling near the bottom in splatters and splashes. Everything about the egg is suggestive of the desire to escape confinement, from the ivory bars that dripping white creates to the overall hectic coloration and its rebellious refusal to be nothing more than an egg.
Crimson Rebellion Egg flickers in the sand, trembling violently before it rolls sideways and settles, still once more.
Crimson Rebellion Egg manages to tumble again, dusting itself with miniscule granules of sand. It stills once more before a sharp sound rings out, a long, fine crack shattering its chaotic crimson crust and shaking that dust away, but not before a few grains of sand manage to creep inside.
Crimson Rebellion Egg lies on the Sands, cracked and forlorn, a lone figure wrapped in red. It tremors delicately, sending up a small blossom of dust once more, then goes silent and unmoving yet again. It sits in its silence, simmers in it, and then a spade-tipped tail whips through the shell, sending shards scattering to the ground. Next is a clawing forepaw and, before long, a damp bronze dragonet throws himself free of his egg only to tumble over his own elongated limbs, crashing to the Sands.
Pure crimson light floods your mind, rushing wildly like a sudden hurricane of scarlet colored winds, intense and overwhelming. It pulses and throbs, twists throughout all your thoughts, identifying you, familiarizing himself with you, recognizing you. The brilliance fades slowly into the background and now you can feel his touch, like a gentle spray of sparks that glitters brightly in the shadow of your thoughts. When he first speaks, his voice is too clear, too sharp, like a knife of silver slicing through you, « You, » he draws back abruptly, then moves forward with more care, the red softening to almost a rosy pink in color, his clear baritone easing to a gentler tone while a wealth of singular affection floods in to replace that passionate meeting, « …you. I was looking for you. I clawed and I screamed and here you are. » A smoky twine of pink caresses against you tenderly while that feeling of eternal love cements itself neatly, « V'gay. My name is Limerith… » His flow of words is interrupted by a sudden stab of vermillion that echos through you both, « Feed me? »
Nothing Limerith does is ever with any particular subtlety. That doesn't mean he's a hammer but rather a redhilted knife who cuts through the haze of round-about conversations, stating what he believes in a forward manner.
Passion personified. That's your Limerith. He'll throw himself into everything with apparent recklessness and not even a second thought, and will often defend his actions to the point of outright defiance. He will obey those he is forced to - golds, primarily - but otherwise, the one person with the most control over him will always be you, and that means you may, at times, need to rein him in for being a little too rowdy with others. He'll be particularly abrupt with Ankarith, often finding her bossy and full of herself. « You'd think she was a gold. Not as if it matters. She'll find out she doesn't know everything next lesson. » That's him. When someone annoys him, he's more likely to let them reap the benefits of their own situation than actively try to fight with them. He will not take criticism well, another thing that will set off that unruly defiance, often arguing openly with what's being said, whether the other person has a point or not.
Limerith is all about tenacity, something that will help him early on in lessons and later on in Flights. If he can't get something the first time, he will not stop trying until he's either forced to, too tired to, or has it right, though 'right' will be decided by his own satisfaction. « I tilted my wing too far to the left on that turn. I need to do it again. » Unfortunately, this means that his failures will be met with an energized level of frustration and he will often need time to blow off some steam afterwards, which is why it's good he'll be such a powerful flyer.
Your Limerith isn't your normal bulky bronze, no, and that is what will make him such an expert in the air. With his leaner build and those big, strong wings, he will be able to outmanuever larger bronzes and even some of the bigger browns, His flight patterns will be just like his personality, though, and he will rarely be seen 'soaring' so much as slicing through the sky like a great bronzed knife. He will flex and bend and curl and do whatever he can to push his body to the limit before he settles back to the ground. So long as he doesn't have to work, he'll even do this until he's too tired to stay in the air, especially if he's in a bad mood.
Flights! Limerith really isn't interested, thanks! At least not to the level most bronzes can be, right out of the gate. Really, he'll never be particularly interested in Flights and chasing unless it's a gold Flight, more for the clutch than for any sense of leadership. He will definitely be a big, croony, loving daddy. He'll have absolutely no interest at all until the first time his instinct is called to task and he goes up for his first Flight, after which he will be attentive to when they go up, but otherwise, hardly as fixated as he could be. Before his first Flight, he'll likely even interrupt your own romantic interludes simply due to this overbearing lack of interest. Due to your own interest in both genders, he may go against his own instinctive nature and sidle up to a few blues or browns every so often, though it's likely he'll never try to mate with them directly. His romantic behavior will be just that: behavior. He will nestle up with another dragon, curl his tail over theirs, but that doesn't mean he's asking for a roll in the field. He will, however, always be affectionate to you above all others. For him, you are the utmost deserving of his attention and he will even go so far as to pull you onto his couch when you have your own weyr when it comes time to settle down for the night. Don't be confused, he's not clingy, but for him, the lingering memory of being alone and trapped in his shell leaves him with a trace of the desperation you felt when he was in the egg, and he will always have your back… even if you're about to back off a cliff. Especially then.
He is your protector, your friend, your parent, and your child. Overall, Limerith is passionate, affectionate, protective, reckless, brazen, sensitive, defiant, and sharp-minded.
Crescendo of Desperation
Limerith's voice is intense, often bringing with it a sense of heat and normally colored with reddish tones. It will often throw off sparks when striking another dragon's mind, but it's not painful at all. It is clear and in that clarity is the intensity, an expressive, soaring baritone that only rarely falls into a husky lilt, a soft rumble of sound tingling with bass undertones. He is all the chords of an electric guitar, though never reaching the upper most shrill chord.
The theme of this Hatching was, basically, music, and your Limerith is based off of one of my favorite songs, 'Harder and Harder to Breathe' by Maroon5. His mindvoice is based off the overall red colors and the lead singer's clear, bright voice, particularly in that song. His physique is also partially based off the lead singer, being a lean, rangy sort. I thought it might be fun to have a large but relatively sleek bronze. His personality has to do with a mix of the way the song sounds and the lyrics, the seeming desperation in the chorus (is there anyone out there, 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe), etc. His name, 'Limerith', has to do with the information you provided when you were talking about your dragon's personality: limerick. It's pretty simple, honestly, but I hope you won't hold it against me. The person who did all of Limerith's information is Br'yn.
|Hatched||18 March 2007|