Long glossy wings. Wings that, when they unfurl, are so long as to appear terribly, terribly awkward. They make the medium-sized green appear to be without grace: narrow at her top, the body getting larger, from the broad shoulders, her wings - glossy, splashed in certain places with a shimmering, silvery green.
This, my friends, is where the subtlety ends.
Pulled back taut against the thin, yet well-muscled form is a hide of a brightly lime green; across her belly and right at the tip of her muzzled nose, there is a lighter green, in its own a bit awkward; at the tips of her headknobs is a slightly darker green. Through the hide can currently be seen the traces of bones - not the point to where she's malnourished, but to the point that the lady is most definitely having the room to fill in to be one of Pern's best flight-fighters.
The ridges on her back, every so often, run crooked, adding to the slight imperfections. There seems to be a pattern, to those upon her back, but as soon as they've had it 'figured out'? The pattern is gone.
Despite her appearance, the gaudily-green miss is not an awkward, clumsy mover at all; indeed, she moves with a sort of careful fluency (which was, come to think of it, probably from her father's side of the gene-pool). It's her eyes, though, which are her saving grace - eyes which reflect a constant sense of contemplation. Not too deep, of course - she already basically knows everything. And if not her eyes that're whirling? Well then, her tail is moving, or her claws are clicking, or…
Egg Name and Description
Volcanic Chameleon Egg
A sudden rising in the sands, too perfectly domed to be a mound, and too perfectly nestled to be anything but what it is - an egg. The shape of this egg, however rounded it may seem, appears multifaceted - panel after pannel, connected together in diamond shapes, rectangles, kites construct form into the illusion of roundness, meeting together in a way that is seamless, yet at the same time easily deduced to the careful eye. The egg's black surface, void of color, reflects and refacts the beholder's image, like the spinning eyes of a dragonet.
Ping, ping. Like a dark black pinball, the Volcanic Chameleon egg continues bumping against its siblings, more thuds and crackling sounds becoming audible by the moment. As it rolls off into a clear space, into light, the egg breaks apart at all its facets, a large, brightly lime wing of gossamer breaks through, spreading feebly to introduce the resident within to the world.
As subtlely as it had before, the blackness of this one's mind reaches out to you, grabs you, yet this time, a feeling of softness is exuded over your whole body; the only trace of it that you can really see (in fact, the only thing you truly, physically see, besides the solitary brightly green draconic form before you) is a band of silver. « Paimida, right? » asks the mind, a soft yet sure tone of mezzo-soprano seeming to implicate a raise of a brow. Then there's warmth about you, and soft laughter. « I'm your Psylenith. And, uhm… pretty certain that I am also hungry. After having to wander around here to find you and all… pretty exhausted, too. I think you can feel it, too? » The green tilts her head, quizzical with slowly whirling eyes. « Maybe we can fix this? »
As she gets older, though, she'll become like the Mesa Verde in 1200 - not quite so active, yet still interesting. The confidence in her will be at its strongest as she realizes that there's those who wish to chase her, and make her theirs but, keeping you in mind, she'll be subtle about her challenging. After all, she doesn't want to push you into anything that you might not be ready for yet.
That tomboyish side of you, whenever you decide to rid yourself of it or fully embrace it, will be accepted or dejected as you do see fit, taken into account as she realizes that tag isn't *quite* a game.
Black and silver are her favorite combination of colors, her mind being all things smooth - leather, suede, fur… Sophisticated like, and very cool. ;) Both in temperature and temperment. Nothing can stir this little lady to the point of anger.
Steady and sure as a prom queen, this mind is all calm cool class. Debonair in dressy silver and black with just a hint of fall breeze, the hatchlin strokes a mind more then touches it and always with a air of amused poise. Anger seems to never strike, so slow is this one to be bothered by anything outside itself. Textures are all leather and suede, supple as kidskin. The mind voice is husky, with just a bubble of sex thrown in.
Egg and Hatchling done by Sae!
Hey Pai, did you know? The Mesa Verde was once a city. o_o There was a pretty big establishment there, actually. People used to live in sort of Weyr-like conditions… well, to be more informal, holes in the walls and such.
Anywho. Your green lady already knows how she fits into Pern and, even more important, what she must do to fit into that nitch. Right now, she's a brilliant thinker and, whenever the time may be, a brilliant, gorgeous fighter. Psyelnith might look like an awkward little puppy right now but, with proper feeding and excercise, she'll be the best there is. She's already got the mind for it.
Currently, she's the bustling Mesa Verde - absorb the knowledge and applying it in the way that not only seems best, but *is* best. She's got the confidence in her to execute her plans and, in with provocation, convince you that she knows, too.
|Name||Mesa Verde Green Psylenith|
|Hatched||13 September 2005|