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girlgirlDragon » Lair » Styx
Level 10
Guardian Female
Dec 23, 2013 (5 years)
Stats Growth
PrimaryIvory Jaguar
SecondaryObsidian Stripes
TertiaryBlack Okapi
Eye TypePlague Common
Energy: 50 / 50
Apparel & Skins
- Afraid of death
- Used to be an imperial
- First husband was an executioner and a seer
- Second husband succumbed to sickness
- Became guardian

Night falls quickly in the Static Mirage, the canyon falling prey to the encroaching darkness. Lanterns light up as the shadows creep closer, illuminating the darkened canyon. Dark figures shift in the shadows as the stars emerge from the fading colours of the sky. One such figure looks out at a procession from a high ledge overlooking the canyon below. Candles flicker on around her, and Styx’s deep red eyes glint in the candlelight.

From her perch she could only make out a few things. Robes blackened by soot, voices heavy with grief, a large bundle wrapped in cloth, the candles burning in the dark, the faint scent of incense and sage. The bundle was laid down on a raft in the middle of the river and set aflame. Someone pushed the raft, and it started making its way down the dark, the burning flame lighting the way for the other dragons to follow. The smell of smoke and sandalwood drifted upward on the wind, ruffling the bushes near the entrance to her home.

Styx turned away from the procession. She hated funerals. They put far too much stock into silly traditions that are supposed to protect the souls and bodies of the dearly departed. Funerals aren’t for the dead. They’re for the living.

The candles blow out one by one, and Styx fades into the dark once more. The scent of smoke and sandalwood would stay heavy in the air long after the procession had passed.

Snarling faces, gnashing teeth. Eyes. So many eyes. A mind overtaken by primal urges, a body she cannot control; erratic wingbeats in panicked patterns, pained roars of decayed lungs, and hunger. Styx feared it all, and unlike others, she did something about it.

It was painful. She tried to convince herself that it was worth it. She’s still not sure. But that moment? That first moment, when she saw her new body reflected back at her? She was surer than ever.

Styx’s first husband was an executioner. As ordered by the clan’s leaders, he would execute dragons, and she would deal with the bodies and if any, the families left behind. She had thought it was a noble job they were doing, the two of them. They even had eggs together. She thought it was noble. She thought that until she became the family left behind. She looked at the bodies of her child, laid out on the table ready for preperation, and thought… what if?

Her second husband was short-lived, they had been good friends that grew into lovers after she left her clan, heartbroken and alone. He comforted her when things got bad. When Styx woke in a cold sweat remembering the screams of her children as their father’s scythe cut into them. When she dreamt of their groans as they emerged from the ground, chest heaving, wheezing breaths from three distinct heads. He comforted her and for the moment everything was okay.

When he died she wished he had been an imperial too, so that she could bring him back.

She met her third partner shortly after her tranformation. He had come across her coughing up blood into the river, and rushed to her aid, taking her back to his clan to recover. For him, it was love at first sight.

On the other hand, Styx never really saw him in a romantic light- she’s not sure shes ever seen anybody in such a way - and as such, she could not return his feelings for her. Even so, they were content for a long while, as while she would never love him romantically, she still loved him.

But it was hard, and so when she left in search for her charge one day, he simply hugged her in a teary goodbye, wishing her safe travels. She was never one for kissing, and he always respected that. She thinks about him sometimes, shining green eyes and dark shimmering wings. She hopes he is doing alright, where ever he is now.

After that, she moved from clan to clan, a fling here or there, but nothing serious. She made her way around Sornieth, learning how to survive alone. She was a Plague dragon after all.

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