Socotra
(#20297963)
Sentient magic in a dragonlike form.
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Energy: 0/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.78 m
Wingspan
1.55 m
Weight
1.21 kg
Genetics
Lavender
Iridescent
Iridescent
Violet
Shimmer
Shimmer
Grey
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Fae
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Biography
#4
( makes him look angery omg)
( also looks kwel on him)
past home: The Focal Point
( makes him look angery omg)
( also looks kwel on him)
past home: The Focal Point
LORE FIRST DRAFT wrote:
Socotra is a being or pure arcane energy, and spent the first of his existence as such, spending time circling around the ____, what he would call days being actual millennia in the arcanists home, but time was a concept foreign to him, and something he still can’t quite grasp.
He would’ve spent maybe an eternity there--maybe, he doesn’t know--but word of there being more than the boundless, endless energy he swirled in got to Socotra’s conciseness, and he was curious.
It was trial and error peeling himself away from what he’d call exitance fro so long, and he found his essence a lot smaller than what he’d thought it was, but it was him and it was conferrable and he could still move.
Finding his way out of ____ and keeping away from what he’d loosely called home, however, took more than just a little determination. At first, when he realized that whatever was his home ended, he’d gone off and started to feel something in him start to wan. Intrigued, he continued in the direction that caused this until something came to halt. It didn’t stop him from moving forward perse, but now he recognized something that felt like it was stretching behind him, had just started to pull. He looked around and saw that his surroundings had shifted from the bright vibrancy of fauna and flora infected by pulsing majjkics, to instead be tinted with something else that he hadn’t experienced before, something that hadn’t concerned him.
Wariness creeps up in him, and he travels back the way he came, but his curiosity wasn't sated, and it wasn't the last time he'd test that pull.
The next time he felt the [drain] come to a stop, a wide expanse of grass lay before him. There was nothing that was infected so the speak, and being in a more adventurous mood, he kept going, and going, and going. Whatever had made him pause before seemed to stretch, and stretch and stretch. He wondered how far it would, because huh- oh, this thing had an edge.
Whatever was blowing between the grass flats had force, but whatever it was, it didn’t affect him, and he hadn’t noticed how far down it went until his fourth or fifth time coming to an edge and peering down and realising that he can't see any grass at the bottom of it. A more interesting discovery to him, however, was that ‘streching’ didn’t seem to be the right word. Maybe ‘trailing’ or ‘folding out’ or ‘growing’? Perhaps. Socotra certainly couldn’t put a name down it for himself, but it wasn’t like the trail was stretching thin or anything of the like… just… extending.
He doesn’t know what exactly he hit, but it was something, and it was something wrong. He feels it as soon as he makes contact, he doesn’t go through it, he doesn’t stop, he collides and it feels like he’s being folding into himself, light arid wisps rise up and seem to be the only thing soothing, whereas the light around him stings, he feels like something being forced into small, but he doesn’t have a choice but to fit. He doesn’t know what grotesque, condensed form he ends up in, but he feels heavy, feels different, so different.
When he first comes to, there is a slight twinkling in the air, it takes a while for him to figure out what it is, or at least what he thinks it is, but was soon as he realizes that it's an it before him, another being, whatever he is contracts, and he feels it again, except, he thinks, it's less of him feeling compressed, it’s like being rearranged, before his perceiving is blank again. (He doesn’t notice It noticing him.)
The second time he comes to, the world is dark, dark and its hard to see shapes where he knows he should see. He feels heavy and exhausted. There's a centralized pounding somewhere and trying to make the shapes somehow blurres his perception. Something... something something something. Something feels tight. Socotra knew he's must've done something wrong. He's starting to really hate the word something. He'd thought he was okay with not knowing, he thought that it was fun. But whatever this is, it doesn't feel fun.
He would’ve spent maybe an eternity there--maybe, he doesn’t know--but word of there being more than the boundless, endless energy he swirled in got to Socotra’s conciseness, and he was curious.
It was trial and error peeling himself away from what he’d call exitance fro so long, and he found his essence a lot smaller than what he’d thought it was, but it was him and it was conferrable and he could still move.
Finding his way out of ____ and keeping away from what he’d loosely called home, however, took more than just a little determination. At first, when he realized that whatever was his home ended, he’d gone off and started to feel something in him start to wan. Intrigued, he continued in the direction that caused this until something came to halt. It didn’t stop him from moving forward perse, but now he recognized something that felt like it was stretching behind him, had just started to pull. He looked around and saw that his surroundings had shifted from the bright vibrancy of fauna and flora infected by pulsing majjkics, to instead be tinted with something else that he hadn’t experienced before, something that hadn’t concerned him.
Wariness creeps up in him, and he travels back the way he came, but his curiosity wasn't sated, and it wasn't the last time he'd test that pull.
The next time he felt the [drain] come to a stop, a wide expanse of grass lay before him. There was nothing that was infected so the speak, and being in a more adventurous mood, he kept going, and going, and going. Whatever had made him pause before seemed to stretch, and stretch and stretch. He wondered how far it would, because huh- oh, this thing had an edge.
Whatever was blowing between the grass flats had force, but whatever it was, it didn’t affect him, and he hadn’t noticed how far down it went until his fourth or fifth time coming to an edge and peering down and realising that he can't see any grass at the bottom of it. A more interesting discovery to him, however, was that ‘streching’ didn’t seem to be the right word. Maybe ‘trailing’ or ‘folding out’ or ‘growing’? Perhaps. Socotra certainly couldn’t put a name down it for himself, but it wasn’t like the trail was stretching thin or anything of the like… just… extending.
He doesn’t know what exactly he hit, but it was something, and it was something wrong. He feels it as soon as he makes contact, he doesn’t go through it, he doesn’t stop, he collides and it feels like he’s being folding into himself, light arid wisps rise up and seem to be the only thing soothing, whereas the light around him stings, he feels like something being forced into small, but he doesn’t have a choice but to fit. He doesn’t know what grotesque, condensed form he ends up in, but he feels heavy, feels different, so different.
When he first comes to, there is a slight twinkling in the air, it takes a while for him to figure out what it is, or at least what he thinks it is, but was soon as he realizes that it's an it before him, another being, whatever he is contracts, and he feels it again, except, he thinks, it's less of him feeling compressed, it’s like being rearranged, before his perceiving is blank again. (He doesn’t notice It noticing him.)
The second time he comes to, the world is dark, dark and its hard to see shapes where he knows he should see. He feels heavy and exhausted. There's a centralized pounding somewhere and trying to make the shapes somehow blurres his perception. Something... something something something. Something feels tight. Socotra knew he's must've done something wrong. He's starting to really hate the word something. He'd thought he was okay with not knowing, he thought that it was fun. But whatever this is, it doesn't feel fun.
notcharmed wrote on 2018-02-22 13:11:47:
Shinedagger was a wandering spirit of air and shadows that came across a glowing, pulsating heap of energy that slowly coalesced into Socotra. The curiosity that lead to So getting a body never really wore off, and was kinda infectious, as Shine is now his equally curious partner in crime. Curiosity rarely ever gets close to harming these faes.
notcharmed wrote:
but sometimes he forgets what a fae looks like and uh,,, messes up w his form,,, n ends up w six extra sets of wings,,, whoops.
size: SMOL (not exactly, but close!)
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Exalting Socotra to the service of the Windsinger will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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