Oleander

Oleander is an amnesiac, and while he still has memories he can't remember much before waking up on the shores of the Sunbeam Ruins. He remembers details like his name, flight, and the fact that his old home was cold in every way he could think of, but anything more detailed than that has been lost to him. Beyond that, Oleander is on the quieter side, taking a decent amount of time to analyze situations before joining in. He has a temper and a rebellious streak, up to the point of deliberately defying orders and ignoring advice he specifically asked for. Considering himself independent, he avoids other dragons and prefers to work most things out on his own. He isn't the best at holding conversations but has no problem with speaking up if the need to arises. In this foreign land he keeps to himself, wandering constantly and trying to find either a way back to what he once considered home or an answer as to how he ended up so lost in the first place.
xxx

---

xxx
Summary: Oleander's a brat, gets lost, and falls off a cliff
xxx
The wind whipped around viciously, though the worst of it was blocked by the much larger Gaolers ahead of him. Oleander bounded after them the best he could, occasionally getting sidetracked by odd patches of snow or pausing to stare at just how big the Sentries' tracks were compared to his pawprints, which barely even managed to match the toeprints with his best efforts. A couple of the Gaolers following him shoved him ahead roughly when he fell behind, reminding him of where exactly he was going in the first place. Before long the fortress began to slip into view, its form barely managing to break through the cloud of darkness trailing behind the snowflakes. As they got closer, the much older Gaolers seemed to grow, and he felt so, so tiny.

He could only see straight once the last of the escorts set foot in the fortress. Their claws clacked and echoed down the empty halls, and were the only things that could be heard beyond his own labored breathing. It was awfully cold in here. Down the halls, down a tunnel, further and further into darkness and the frigid catacombs before he could hear anything at all. Something distant cried out, but the sound it made couldn't be called draconic by any means. Shade-touched, his mind went, but the thought only locked yet another source of shuddering onto his bones.

At last, they arrived in the grand hall, some of the overseers eyeing the pack as they entered. He didn't recognise really any of the other Gaolers, other than a few sentries he had met and talked with in the past. Still, the silence was suffocating, and not a word was uttered until he was in position, as they had practiced.

"Wardens of the orders," A voice finally broke through the air, echoing off of every surface in the room and piercing right through him. "I take it you all know why we are gathered here,"

A faint murmur of agreement swept over the room before fading off, leaving a pause that left far too long for tension to build.

"Containing the invaders is a large responsibility which we have been blessed to receive by the Icewarden himself. He trusts us to ensure Sornieth's safety from invading forces, and to be sure that they do not escape our grasps. Today, we will be enlisting some new guards among our wakes, and teaching them the ropes so that they may continue to carry on our tasks for as long as it takes."

The Gaoler looked directly down at the group, and even if it was all a part of what they had practiced Oleander still felt crushed when the rest of the assembly followed suit. He shifted uncomfortably, becoming acutely aware of the pressure where his claws met the floor. He forced himself to meet her eyes, swallowing hard. Why wasn't anyone else nearly as nervous as he was? They all seemed fine, bored even. "You children understand what a big responsibility is going to be placed upon you. Once you join the Orders, there is no turning back," The group nodded, some of the more confident members making it a point to stand up taller. "Step forwards, if you believe you are worthy of joining the Orders."

One by one, the group stepped forwards, receiving their names and falling into groups with the wardens that would be training them. About midway through the assembly and it was his turn now. He could feel their stares on the back of his head, cold, uncaring.

One foot in front of the other, carefully now. He tried his best to look proper, chest forwards, tail above the ground, and once he reached the spot they had rehearsed he took a seat, maintaining his posture. The warden took one look at him, her eyes lingering for far too long. His heart threatened to jump out of his chest if he kept quiet any longer.

"Child of Earth..." The usual introduction, not one of discrimination, but of formality. "You were discovered just barely out of the egg, not a chance to survive if our Seekers hadn't recovered you. You were alone, abandoned in a Shade-contaminated land. Surely you remember,"

"Yes, Warden," His voice came out strong in return, though his words held a sourness to them. He was in the Icefields all his life, from what he knew.

Nevertheless, the Warden continued, a bitterness to her tone. "Among our ranks you grew strong and healthy, but a fire followed you that could not be contained. You never respected those who raised you, taught you our ways. You had even taken a name, far before you were given one you deserved. Even now, you reek of defiance, along with... fear. You do not truly wish to join our ranks."

Oleander straightened up, her words spiking a nerve within him. If this were anyone else, he would give them... Oh who was he kidding.

The hall was still silent as ever, not one Gaoler speaking up for his side. He couldn't even feel the mood change, the same cold atmosphere lonely as ever. He growled slightly as he turned throughout the hall, before settling back on the Warden. She was unreadable, indifferent. She didn't care any more about what she was saying than anyone else.

He hopped up to his feet, tail lashing in anger. He had to let her know. This was stupid! Finding his words, he came to a conclusion. "You speak these words about me, and yet I could say the same of you. Do you feel the room, or just the likes of me? Nobody truly wishes to be here, not even you. You don't want us in here," He didn't yell, but he hoped it got through in his words.

The Warden merely chuckled, purring, "Temper, temper. You would make a lovely Sentry one day with all that rage. However that day is not today. You are not ready to receive a name. You are too immature. Until you can get that temper under control and monitor your feelings, I do not think you are ready."

He went to snap back, planting himself defiantly, but the icy floors and his overgrown claws did nothing against the next Gaoler shoving him out of place and sending him spinning off to the side. A snarl escaped him and he bounded back, landing ahead of them and snarling, "I've been waiting years for this! What do you mean 'too immature', I'm like one of the best here! I could do this better than any of these other orders, and-"

A couple of the older keepers shook their heads, and before he knew it he was right back out the doors of the fortress, tossed out by his antlers and sent rolling away into the snow. He snapped around, barking an, "At least I care!" before the doors slammed shut.

After a chunk of time spent lashing at the snow and waiting for the doors to open again, Oleander got the feeling he wasn't being let back in. With a huff, he flicked his tail and started in the opposite direction.

"Well, joke's on them, they're the ones missing out,"

The blizzard hadn't let up at all from when he had first arrived, and without the rest of the group escorting or bounding along it was much, much colder. After about five minutes of walking his paws were starting to tingle. Numbed completely after an hour. Within three he lost track of where he was, even when he specifically tried to backtrack and go home. His previous tracks had been covered up, or they were too far away, or... He couldn't tell anymore.

How long had it been?

After a point he had drifted off, only being snapped out of his trance once the ground disappeared ahead of him. He scrabbled at the edge of the cliff with the feet that were still there, beating his wings desperately as he noticed the waves beneath him, but it was too late for that. With a final skidding sound on the ice above, he found himself falling, head eventually colliding with a rock he couldn't see from above and getting swallowed up by the frigid waves...