Egg Name and Description
Shades Of Grey Egg
If one seeks garish color and bright, vivid imagery, one best look elsewhere: for here, only a sea of grey can be found. From rounded apex to broad base, black and white battles for dominance but neither truly win. At the very base, grey mottles in a sinuous, curving pattern of camouflage that would work quite well in the grey tundras of the Snowy Wastes— but here, it only shows off the artic difference between this and others, highlighted upon the black Istan sands. Sinuous pattern fades upwards into a single shade of steel-grey, shot through with a slate and cloud-lining alike. Whatever the end result of the color is, no extremes will be found here, but the safety of pure lack of any one bright color, huddling in the grey mists of obscurity.
Monochromatic Safety Net
Monochromatic Safety Net does not yet quake, though the promise of the future trembles at the threshold of your mind. A lurking presence, hidden beneath blankets upon blankets of bleakest shale, huddling below the cloud cover, refuses to touch but relents to brush. A loathing quality for the blue-shot gunmetal, disdain for silver's metallic shine: then a terrifyingly sudden burst of red, crimson fire, has whatever tenuous touch retreating with all the emphasis of a mental scream.
Monochromatic Safety Net is not so much hesitant as reluctant to reach out. Colors be damned, it shall sit within its sea of lovely greys, and blacks and whites, and ignore any such maniacal swirling of ridiculous feeling and frightening *color*: and so it broods, waiting, patiently waiting.
Monochromatic Safety Net is violently shaken by the pressure, oh the pressure, the weight of the colors that drag about like a waterlogged blanket. No! The shades of grey, as light and feathery as a warm summer breeze, reasserts chilled, compressed non-color back into a safety-net of monochromatic structure.
Loath to give any sign of an internal struggle, the Shades Of Grey Egg barely seems to twitch at all on the hot sands. That must be a heat mirage, surely — an illusion and nothing more. Or is it? For now, it will just have to remain a thing imagined and not fully seen.
Ah, now it cannot be denied. Something is going on inside the Shades Of Grey Egg and that something is no longer satisfied with the dull, drab exterior of its not-quite-stone prison. The egg rocks vigorously a few times, testing and experimenting … and then it falls still again.
What could possibly thrive in such a simply grey existence? The Shades Of Grey Egg is forced to answer that question violently, when a pale head followed by a sinuously dark neck bursts from the shell. Lo and behold, for the Luminous Blossom Of The Underworld Green Hatchling has finally sprouted. The rest of the shell falls away like an afterthought while she unfurls in full.
Hatchling Name and Description
Flowers In Her Footsteps Green Hatchling
Deepest green is draped over the sleek, sinuous body of this dragon like a burial shroud that's been sewn from the sunless depths of the jungle's belly. A bright blossom of palest seafoam green — luminous-seeming against the shadowed dark of her narrow muzzle — blooms upon her forehead and spreads petals over high eyeridges, bringing light to her wide, eager eyes. Tendrils of that lighter green twist and twine between her neckridges, spilling out onto the twilight darkness of her wings and flourishing there in brilliant array. Tangled and hung upon her wingspars, those vines and florets of pallid jade soon wither and die at her haunches, crumbling into a fine mist that swirls along the length of her tail to end in a sigh of celadon at the very ends. A shadowy ethereal being in appearance and in movement, she seems anchored to the ground— and reality — only by the solid, darkened agate of her talons.
Public Impression Message
Private Impression Message
All it takes is for you to blink just once … and everything is gone. The sands have vanished and, with them, all the noises and sensations that come with it. No more sand. No more heat. No more noise. Cold stone and a faint breeze pull at your senses. Sickly luminescence offered by alien fungus is all that lights this terrible domain and, at first, the only sound is that of your footsteps echoing through the fathomless halls. When you swallow, your mouth is filled with a burst of sweetness and tartness — pomegranate? In this dark place? — and the promise of cool water taunts your nose as if from a great distance. Soft, feminine laughter taunts you from every corner as you stumble through the ill-lit labyrinth … until you spy a thin, red thread on the ground. Take it. Follow it. And at the end will you find a luminous presence, a glowing green form that murmurs, « You have found me, Ariadne. I knew you would. And, now, we will be forever bound. » The red thread dissolves in your hand, confirming the bond and abrubtly shocking every one of your senses into new awareness — ah! The heat of the sands! The cry of the spectators! It's all so new! Especially that dark green seated at your feet, looking up at you with a patience that is at utter odds with the gnawing in her — and your — belly. « I am your Persiphonath, Ariadne. Feed me, so that I may grow. »
Personality / RP Tips
Her origins will be humble enough. She'll learn the hows and whys of eating and oiling and all that delightful stuff — right alongside you and her fellow weyrlings, of course. Earthy is one way to describe her, for in the beginning, everything will be matter-of-fact and grounded. You'll know she's started to finally bloom into her own when the questions come … and, by Faranth, they will come in a /torrent/. « Why are those flowers red? » she might wonder. « Do rocks grow? What is oil made of? » She'll insist on learning all she can, eagerly consuming every fact. As she learns, she'll begin to blossom, developing dramatic flourishes and a flair for poetry and the arts that will only grow more refined.
By contrast, her classical tastes and generally refined sensibilities are flung completely to the wayside when she's face with mud puddles or caves — splashing and exploring are two passions that she never will grow out of. She'll be the first, after a hard rain, to beg, « Let's go outside! Dance in the mud, play in the rain! » And, by Faranth, she'll drag the entire weyrling class out with her, if she can!
Hunting, by-the-bye, will not be something she relishes. While it's a necessity, she'll almost always angle for the oldest of the herd — « They have lived long, fulfilling lives, » she might say — and will only eat just enough to be satiated. She'll never have a problem with thick-tail, which might be a reassurance of some sort … but it's small reassurance when, after each hunt, she insists on a bath and an oiling to scrub the mess off.
She's not one that likes to hurt others — if her hunting proclivities aren't a clue — and this may manifest particularly boldly if she sees someone teasing another person. She's an ardent defender of the young especially and may be a favorite among children — and firelizards — as she'll willingly allow them to climb all over her and pull her tail or sleep in the crook of her forelegs. Should you find yourself with children of your own, she'll be as doting as any dragon-aunt can be … and, if you don't, not to worry, for she won't insist on you doing something you don't want to do.
With the seasons, you'll notice changes in your Persiphonath — during the fall and into the winter, she'll tend to be a dark and moody creature when left to her own devices. She'll lament the harvest and the loss of the plants she's grown to love, and, despite numerous reassurances that they'll come back, she'll continue to mourn them. While this sadness is liable to weaken over the turns, don't be surprised to find her prodding at an empty pot with a talon one day and gustily sighing, « Why must this happen, Ariadne? Surely there must be something we can do. »
During the spring and summer, however, she'll be more herself — bright and fun-loving, full of life and energy. With the growing of plants and the blooming of flowers, she'll thrive and insist upon clippings of this or cuttings of that or « Oh! Ariadne, we must find a perfect vase for those. Something lovely and green to go with the bright red, don't you think? » Because she will positively be /inspired/ by the growth of plants — and plants in general, really — she'll strive to inspire you to continue working with them. Of all the things in the world, her second-most passion is plants — you, naturally, are her first true (and only!) love.
Poetry is a close third and one that she might insist you indulge her in — to write her poetry down before she forgets it. While she will love all of the arts — dance, music, painting and everything else — poetry is the only one that she can properly engage in. But, if you should see a fanciful bit of fabric or a fine painting, rest assured that she'll want to add it to her collection! And if you meet a find Harper, she may insist on inviting him (or her!) over to play for a bit.
Should you find yourself in a bad mood, she'll be the one offering a flourish of mental flowers and quiet encouragement … and, in a good mood, she'll be right there with you, eager to do what you will — whether it's explore, lounge around in a garden, or spend some quiet time together in your weyr. However, should you ever find yourself reaching for the sun in a figurative sense or worrying yourself sick about something, Persiphonath won't hesitate to sink her claws into the ground and matter-of-factly state, « You need to stop worrying about it. Let us talk about it and see if there's something to do … and, if there isn't, then there is no need to worry about it, now is there? »
Proddiness is just another cycle to endure, one that she'll endure with remarkable grace, in fact. You might only be aware of the turn in seasons when the usual labyrinth of her thoughts is flooded with flowery aromas and the brush of petals in your mind. She will never be obnoxious about it and the odds of you feeling more than the urge to make floral arrangements are slim to none. Males will not be tolerated in her presence for the few days that she glows and suitors would be well-advised to keep their distance until she comes into full bloom. As one that doesn't like to see others suffer, she will not blood a kill before rising — rather, she will simply spring into the air without warning after rousing herself from a deep sleep.
Her flights will lend themselves to being extremely trying — she's a remarkable aerialist for being a dragon of the earth, and she'll lead the males through a labyrinth of the heavens, until one is finally able to capture her. Fast and furious, she'll not go quietly when caught — and, if possible, she'll avoid being caught by the same male twice. She will not linger after the flight, most likely insisting on a bath and an oiling shortly thereafter as soon as you're able to oblige. Thankfully, her flights will be predictable, part of a mysterious inner clockwork that you'll be able to figure out in due time.
All in all, your Persiphonath will be the eternal balance to you, winter for your summer, spring for your fall. She'll be that little voice encouraging you with a breathless « We can do this together! » or the roots that keep you grounded when you dare to reach too far. She will be your anchor, your muse, and more than that, your companion through the labyrinth that is life.
Deep, echoing halls of stone provide the backdrop of Persiphonath's voice when she's in her darker moods. She is oft at the core of it, her voice shifting from a cool and breezy whisper to a booming, resonant thing that fills the mind and spirit. Flowers are a rarity when she's in the depths of that labyrinth, but their aroma is a faint thing, wafting on an unseen breeze. When she withdraws from the darkest depths of her mind, flowers fall in her footsteps, and the world positively glows. She is prone to using elaborate imagery to convey her point, in addition to well-chosen words. Ever a lover of the dramatic, her mental colors are kept muted and dull unless she's aiming to make a point — in those moments, a crucial element will be starkly highlighted in brilliance, most especially items colored red or green.
Egg: The clutch theme was phobias and philias. Shades of Grey Egg was based on chromatophobia — fear of colors. The egg was created in full by R'eos.
Name: Persiphonath's name was inspired heavily by Persephoneia (better known as Persephone). A bit of letter tweakage and, voila! The name was chosen in large part because it fit both of your requests for a Greek-based name and a name drawn from Dead Can Dance. Given Persephone's role in the seasons and the underworld, it seemed to be the perfect match to Ariadne's gardening tendencies and the desire to keep her grounded.
Inspiration: Most of Persiphonath's personality is derived from Persephone and the seasons she is so intimately linked to. Some creative license was taken to work in a bit of the Muses, particularly her love of drama, poetry, and desire to learn. Her mindvoice is a combination of factors, particularly pulling from the legend of the labyrinth. The greatest tie that binds is that which binds her to her clutchmates — her siblings all have their philias and phobias and Persiphonath is no exception: she's a phytophiliac, a lover of plants.
Of course, if you don't like her — in whole or in part — feel free to adjust or tweak as necessary! She is a representative of growth … and you are the mistress of that growth, in the end. Ultimately, I hope you enjoy her as much as I enjoyed writing her. :) ~ M'gaal
|Name||Flowers In Her Footsteps Green Persiphonath|
|Hatch Date||06 June 2010|