Freya

___ ____ __“Punch through the wind and __soar on your own wings.”

__ Gold Ore Minerals & Ores Known to drive dragons to do very foolish things. 250 Wavespun Cloth Dragonmade The true colors of this cloth are only visible when submerged. 53 Brilliant Feather Cluster Organics It is said that these feathers may have been molted from the great Talona herself. 46 __ Sacridite Minerals & Ores Lay down a Sacridite shard somewhere remote and it will start growing as long as there is anyone living nearby making wishes. (KS-Sponsored by Darrin P.) 72 Sepia Lace Waist Frill Apparel A fresh rose pinned to a delicate lace netting. 1000 Wispy Foxtail Organics The fluffy tail of a Trick-of-the-Light. It glows with a vibrant energy and is very soft to the touch. (KS-Sponsored by KravenFoxy) 30 Freya, like most teachers, can be very strict. But she does this to get the best out of her students, she wants them to be the best fliers in all of Sornieth. Hailing from the Southern Icefields, the Skydancer had learnt how to fly in almost all kinds of weather. She is the best around. And is certainly the best teacher for young dragons to learn from. Along with being a flight instructor, she's also a weather interpreter. Flying out in storms and dangerous conditions of her own free will to report on the weather and what is going on in the skies. (Thunderstorms are her favorite to fly through, the wind currents are always exciting.) She hopes to one day train a small group of dragons to carry on her work in case of an expedition gone awry. Many dragons call her crazy for wanting to fly in such "horrible" conditions. She counters that with; "Have you ever flown upside-down in a gale? Have you seen the twisting spiral of rain as the wind wraps it? Have you ever flown through a wave of flames of a forest fire? Those things are rare and beautiful things only seen in certain kinds of weather. So next time you ask if it is crazy to go and fly in that kind of weather, join me and I can show you how exhilarating it is. Is it risking my life? Yes, but I had survived the Southern Icefields just fine, what's a little more danger?" With that she sets off to fly to another anomaly in the skies once more, her owl familiar close behind. She always claims about surviving the Southern Icefields, but no one knows what she had to survive. Is that the reason for her flying across the sea to the Ashfall wastes? Who knows. _____

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Clear Sight of a Traveler Fly swift, fly free A keen eye scans across the sea. Let your wings never tire, As we fly through this gale of ire. Never lose your mark, The destination ever true, For soon we'll shout "hark!" We are fliers through and through. __________________________________

[note, on clear sight of a traveler] - - - This song was often used for dragons travelling in small groups. The song started out as just as that, a song. But the feelings sung behind the individuals gave it the power needed to become a spell. It can be sung for a single individual, but is much more effective for small groups. Any more than six dragons however, the spell starts to lose effectiveness.

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Wind kissed at Freya’s cheeks as she stood proud and tall on the coast. There wasn’t much to see from Freya’s vantage point; snow coated what would’ve been sand, icicles hung from overhangs and bare tree branches. It was beautiful, though miserable. No one played out on the coast anymore because of heavy snowfall. An unfortunate thing, really. Her favourite memories were those of splashing in the ocean and getting sand stuck on every inch of her scales. The only indication of them was the golden circles etched into her wings and fur. Each one reminded her of a different summer, a different time, where the beach was cluttered and the sun was shining, no bitter wind to be felt. Her brothers had said that they reminded them of halos upon looking at them, like the ones seen in Human Mythology books, and Freya had only grinned. All of that was gone now. She heaved a sigh and threw her head back, eyes towards the sky. Clouds cluttered beyond her line of sight, bringing darkness across the coast, towards her village. Her mother would likely be preparing food by now, her brothers racing to the table in anticipation, her father chuckling from the bottom of the stairs. Freya wondered if she’d call for her, only to realise her daughter was gone. Away with the waves, her mother would say. Indeed. Wind whipped at her mane and brought the smell of freshly roasted meat along with it. A growl rose from her abdomen seconds later, and all she could do was splay her paw across it. We’ll feast later. She sensed, rather than heard, her father approach. His footfalls were distinct; always heavy, always booming, always to announce his presence. Even with a winter blanket below him. “I could hear your stomach from a mile away,” Azhi said as he neared. “It was still quieter than your footsteps,” Freya drawled. He nudged her in the ribs, grinning. “I’d be careful if I were you, my girl. Your present may just go to someone else.” She decided to make a good show of gaping at him. Pulling it off was easy enough, the paw clutched to her chest was just to add effect. “You wouldn’t dare.” “You think?” “I know, since Ma would likely tear you a new one if you did.” Azhi grimaced at that. Freya howled. It was raspy thanks to the bitter nip of eternal winter. “A warm cup of lemon back at the house would cure that,” her dad pointed out. Gone was his discomfort, replaced by the ghost of a smile that brought back all kinds of memories. Her laughter evaporated. “I could make it just the way you like it.” Agony ripped through her. To tell her father no was like telling a favourite pet to stay and never return to it, or like telling a lover you’d always be there and leave the next day. Freya adored him, so much so that she’d spent two weeks convincing herself to pack, to go, all because she couldn’t bear parting with him. She couldn’t give it up now. “I can’t, Dad,” she mumbled into her bright orange scarf, clutching the pendant beneath it. It was laced with her mother’s sweet-smelling perfume. “I need to do this.” Freya expected a retort, or a prolonged grunt of disdain, but upon looking at her father, he merely nodded. His smile was still there. “Aren’t you... aren’t you mad?” She swore that Azhi’s lip quivered lightly before he spoke. “No, honey, I’m not mad.” “I wish you were.” “I know,” he mumbled, cupping her cheek with a paw just as she bowed her head, “but I’m not. Never was, even when you first brought up the idea.” “I’ll miss you,” she said softly, voice breaking. “Well, a part of me will be going with you, so don’t miss me too much.” Freya looked up at her father, now stood mere paces away from her, with confusion clouded in her eyes. It was then that she noticed how his eyes looked like glass, how winter’s clammy hands dragged through his short-cut mane, making it flutter and curl. Everyone had always told her that she got her looks from Azhi. She supposed they were right. Something solid nudged against the paw hanging by her side. “Take this with you, honey, to help you and to remember me.” Peering down, words became foreign. The object was a hardback book, a set of wings engraved into the cover and gold lettering imprinted onto the front and side so it stood out from the rest. “I know it was for your birthday,” Azhi began once more, “but I saw it on sale and I couldn’t help but get it for you as a leaving present.” He nudged Freya’s paw once more with the book and she took it wordlessly. She’d forgotten all about this book. All about its rugged leather texture, about the faint smell of pine that came wafting up from it every time a page turned, all about the dream that came thundering into her mind. Her father chuckled and lifted her chin up with a digit. An all-out grin had replaced his smile. “I chose the right one, then?” “How did you know?” Her response was breathless, almost silent against the excitement thrumming in her veins. “Your dear old mother may have pointed it out to me.” Freya snorted. “So your super knowledge had no play in this?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to take someone’s present back?” “Nooo, it’s fine.” She quickly stuffed it under her arm and ducked away from the reaching paw that was Azhi’s. “I’ll take it from here.” “Will you?” he inquired with a fiendish smirk before chasing her along the coast, going so far as to fly at her. She dipped and dived in and out of the evergreens dotted around the area in an attempt to escape. Tight turns here, barrel rolls there, it was all a game, one she never wanted to end. It took her father almost half an hour to catch her, and it was through sheer luck. Freya had misjudged a turn and clipped her wing on a barren tree, spiralling to the ground and landing in a heap of snow. That was when he claimed his victory. “You didn’t win,” she retorted. The sweat was beginning to freeze on her skin. “I think I did,” her father said as he landed with his back to her. “After all, who fell out of the sky?” “Well—” “Who fell, my dear?” “Dad—” “Who fell?” Freya pouted, crossed her arms and gazed towards the dying sunlight instead of answering. Its glimmering rays lit the waves with a sheen, making it look like liquidised gold, and turned the settled snow into crystals and diamonds. She used to scoop them up in pawfuls and race to her home, showing her little mound to her brothers in a taunt. It only seemed like yesterday that they’d charge outside in whatever they were wearing and search for the Treasure of the Skies, as they used to call snowflakes. Snow crunched. “Does my little girl have to go now?” “Yes,” she replied meekly. She didn’t look towards him. “Yes she does.” They stood in silence. Neither of them had the heart to say goodbye, neither of them wanted to believe it was permanent. That she may never see them again. That she needed to leave. Not wanted to, as she’d much rather continue to listen to her father’s tales and eat her mother’s delicious food, but needed to, or else she’d never get her freedom. How long they stood there was beyond her. She just knew that the stars weren’t shining when she’d begun staring off into space. Snow had even begun falling at some point, mixing themselves with the bright dots along the horizon. Freya barely noticed when Azhi strode up to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He didn’t speak, didn’t move. He just stayed with her. Until you’re ready, Azhi had said to her when she informed him of her plan to leave. Until you’re ready. “I need to go now,” Freya chuckled sadly, “or else I’ll never leave.” “Then go. You’re ready to take on the world. Just be sure to save me a souvenir,” he added with a wink. The final moment between father and daughter had come to a close. They didn’t say goodbye, even when she took off, flying high into the night with the leather book clutched to her chest, her bag too full to carry anything else. Wind tipped with ice kissed at her cheeks as she soared upwards and onwards. Snowflakes spiralled past her in a whirlwind of white. It was the only farewell she’d get from this place.

She wondered if this is what her father meant by taking on the world. It was that thought alone to occupy her mind as her eyes traced each and every movement of her trainee; Munir. Every tension in his muscles, every flash of gold as he whirled to keep himself off the ground. No matter how hard Freya tried to get him to relax, he couldn’t. It was only a matter of time before he’d fall again. On that note, she thought, he was staying in the air much longer than a couple of days ago. Munir had managed to hover for a whole minute before taking off to try different heights, and so far he’d been in the air for fifteen seconds. Twenty seconds. His wings began to tense. Not good, but not a bad sign either. She tried to will him to calm, to take deep breaths. Munir began doing the opposite. Thirty seconds in, and he began fighting with himself to stay in the air, grunting and panting with every struggling flap. His breathing became a rasp, his paws clawing at the air as if he could find some invisible ledge. “Relax, Munir!” Freya repeated for the fifth time, stopping herself from chewing her claw. “You’ll fall, otherwise!” “I can’t!” His voice was tinted with fear. “Yes you can!” “No, I—” A pained shriek escaped him as his wing locked into place. Too much tension, she knew. It was Munir’s main issue; he could never keep the stress at bay. They’ve tried tonics, trust exercises, everything they can do to help him relax that tiny bit more, and it all failed. Every last one. He went tumbling to the rocky ground in a ball of gold and brown. Both wings and paws were outstretched to try and slow him, catch him. It did nothing, and he hit the floor with a thud before she could even begin to think of moving. Gasping, she raced to his side, paw clutching her pendant. It still had her mother’s fading perfume on it. “Are you okay?” Freya asked, slightly out of breath. Munir just whimpered in response. She sat with him, waiting for him to stand, but he didn’t. He instead laid there, unmoving. Save for his chest. The gold slithering across it, however dirtied by dust and dried mud littering the arena floor, kept catching the midday sunlight, blinding her temporarily. She chose to ignore it. She had to, as much as it was beginning to irritate her by the time she spoke. “Munir,” Freya said gently, squinting, “you need to—” “Relax?” he snapped. “Yeah, I get it.” “Then let’s try again.” “Why.” His lips wobbled as he spoke, as he sat up. “What difference will it make.” “It’ll help you improve—?” “We’ve been doing this for months now, Freya. We’re not getting anywhere.” “How can you say that?” she inquired, keeping the snarl out of her tone. “You’ve been doing so well recently, Munir, and yet you say this? Tell me just how you can say that.” He suddenly found the gold ribbon wrapped around his arms intriguing. “Answer me.” It wasn’t a request. Nor a beg. Munir tensed at the cold in her voice, but did as she asked. “Because I can’t fly for more than half a minute.” “So what? That never bothered you before.” “Well it’s beginning to.” Freya shrugged as if Munir’s pride wasn’t hanging in the balance. “Then don’t let it. Brush it off, like you do with dust.” “It’s not that easy.” “It is, trust me.” She registered how Munir’s molten-gold eyes turned glassy at her temper, but she couldn’t be soft on him anymore. “Stop pitying yourself and stand up. We’ve got work to do.” He hesitated. It wasn’t often that Freya got mad at anyone, let alone a friend, and she only wished he understood why. “You know,” Freya began, her voice softening, “I’ve seen you training in a nearby glen.” Munir started and turned to her. “You have?” She nodded, smiling. “You’re determined, I know that. You can’t let this one slip-up get the better of you.” When he didn’t answer, she pressed on. “You’ve been hovering for longer each time I’ve seen you, and you’re getting better at taking off.” Freya chuckled and finally took her paw from the necklace. “The landing needs a bit of work, though.” He sighed, though not unhappily. “Yeah, it does.” With that, Freya stood up and offered her paw down to her friend, who took it instantly. “Shall we get to work, then?” Munir said to her. He was grinning from ear to ear, determination shining in his eyes. Every ounce of sorrow lining his face just seconds ago had evaporated. Freya nodded with a smirk. “Do it again, from the top.”

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The stormy breeze combed through Freya’s feathers as she soared through the dark clouds that were beginning to build around the Skydancer. She adjusted her altitude to avoid getting hit by the hail that started to form and that would surely amount to an impressive thunderstorm in the very near future. Her wings were damp from the clouds she was flying through, but her coat did a good job at keeping the water away from her body. It had been well worth the gold she spent on it.

A strong gust of warm wind suddenly hit her right flank and startled her for the fraction of a second before she was able to adapt to it and correct her course again. Her theory had been right then, she thought. This storm wasn’t a stray extension of the Twisting Crescendo; instead it was caused by cold winds from the Southern Icefield meeting warm air from the Ashfall Waste high above the ocean.

Freya smiled slightly as she watched the clouds around her grow ever higher and felt the wind become more violent. It was as if her new home was welcoming her by sending her this magnificent storm. With a swoop of her wings, she let herself fall and be carried around by the gusts of wind hitting her from all sides, her amused laughter being carried away by the gale. She enjoyed the wild ride for a few moments before setting back out on her way towards the Fire Flight’s territory.
She certainly hoped she would find some talented, passionate youngsters there who could share this experience with her in the future.
(Snippet written by: AthenaCorvus )

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Perhaps some art from here? : https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/2494542#post_2494542