Hyperion
(#26239707)
Level 1 Coatl
Familiar
Bogus Manamonger
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Coatl
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
8.03 m
Wingspan
9.58 m
Weight
938.83 kg
Genetics
Rose
Petals
Petals
Rose
Butterfly
Butterfly
Cream
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Coatl
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
7
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
5
MND
6
Biography
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Hyperion
Astronomer 
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 B I O G R A P H Y
It happened one night when he was alone, sitting in the Solar Gazebo on the lush hillside. One instant—he was reading The Adventures of the Comet Dancer, the brave Coatl who wandered the skies. The next, he was choking. On fire. He knelt on the wooden slats, snatching for his own neck. Then he fell to his side, confused and quivering. He rolled onto his back and out of the gazebo, then lay there silently, quivering in the tall grass. The grand, sapphire vault of the night sky arched endlessly above him. Hot tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, doubling the lights and setting his cheeks aflame. Then—a goddess? Not quite. The Wildclaw peered down at him. The stars formed a heavenly crown for her. She patted his forehead and murmured everything will be okay. The tension went out of his muscles. Something about this is all so beautiful, he thought before fainting. II. “Panic attacks,” he blurted to Theia. He hid in his hands, expecting the Wildclaw to leave. It was embarrassing to think about, much less to explain—to tell others that something inside of him was broken. But when he peeped out between his talons, Theia was there, smiling gently. “At least you have a time of day that calms you.” She reached out and took a quivering paw in her own steady one. When Hyperion pulled away, there was a small brass telescope in his palm, carven with runs. “The faeries come out shortly before sunset,” Theia explained. “And sometimes tracking them eases a troubled mind.” They waited, arm-in-arm, for them to appear. As the sun’s globe flared red, Hyperion’s trembling grew worse. His breath came in short, shallow pants. Come on. Not in front of her, not again. “Shhh,” Theia whispered. “Now look.” With dusk pulling a purple cloak over the rolling green hills, the first fey appeared—a pale green sprite dancing in the field to their left. Then an orange wisp. Soon the grove was alive with secret, laughing lights. Engrossed in watching them, Hyperion didn’t realize his quakes had stopped. For the moment. “Between them, the stars, and myself, we should be able to help you.” Theia cocked her head. Purple sprays of light appeared behind her—a bluebell fairy come to nectar. “Alright?” Hyperion blinked back tears—not of anxiety, but gratitude. 
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B I O G R A P H Y
But of course, that was the trouble with love. Often, the fluttering heart, sweat and nausea couldn’t be distinguished from the other anxiety. Hyperion felt simultaneously drawn to and repelled from Theia. He wanted to be nearer to her—it was like sitting in a strong slant of sunlight, or crawling near a fire on a cold wintry day. He wanted to be far: every shift of her rose-colored eyes sent a shiver through him. One night while they were watching the fey folk dance in a field, she grabbed his paw. He gulped and dropped his spyglasses. “You know you can tell me anything.” Her low, musical voice warmed his feathers. His wings fluttered involuntarily. “I—I feel the same way.” Behind her, more and more of the fey were gathering, lighting up the field with gentle globes of gold, like swirling fireflies. The sun was giving way to the lush, dark, silver-studded blue that usually set off his panic attacks. IV. But as Theia gathered him in her arms, and her paws met on the small of his back, something magical happened: For a moment, his shaking ceased. He blinked up at her, gasped when she nuzzled his neck. “I’m not sure when I fell for you. But every time you’re near, Hyperion, I get these shivers in my wings, these nerves in my back. My face tingles.” Small alert-bells rang in Hyperion’s mind. “Do you have anxiety too?” “No, actually. I think I’m in love with you.” She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh,” Hyperion said. He promptly fainted against her. Since that fateful night, Hyperion and Theia have been more inseparable than they already were. Their love is the gentle, tender sort that appears very rarely—the way the fey folk show only when conditions are just right.
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Bio template by @Mibella, find it here.
Bio by Caelyn
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This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
Seafood stocks are currently depleted.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Hyperion to the service of the Arcanist 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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