Fendwellr » Hibernal Den » Mustard

Mustard

(#63183582)

Level 25 Fae

Familiar

Basilisk

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

1.44 m

Wingspan

0.94 m

Weight

1.01 kg

Genetics

Goldenrod
Savannah

Obsidian
Noxtide

Obsidian
Thylacine

Hatchday

Aug 09, 2020
(3 years)

Breed

Adult
Fae

Eye Type

Plague
Primal

Level 25 Fae

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Sidious
Bast

Offspring

Biography

M U S T A R D
Does he mean to make the air you breathe sting your eyes and throat and nose?

Does it matter?

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PRONOUNS
he/him

ORIENTATION
aromantic ace

OCCUPATION
Mycologist

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✤ ✤ ✤

It is difficult to breathe around him, but not impossible.

Admittedly, Maple knows she has an advantage over the majority of the dragons in the Court; born of Fire, the heat her body radiates scorches what spores descend too close to her body, and it takes but one superheated exhale to clear her airways of stinging gases.

Mustard smiles. He can feel the death of every spore and yet he seems to enjoy her company-- perhaps because she is the only dragon capable of giving it. No one else can tolerate being in the same room with him for long, but Maple knows better than to leave a Lich completely to their own devices.

"I see you are still rebelling against your king," he muses, ignoring how her lip curls in disgust at the implication that Phyrexia could ever be a king, let alone hers. "It amazes me that he cannot sense you fighting his infection. I can feel your body passively combating my spores, and for the most part you put in no effort to do so. But your flame endlessly fights against his phyresis, prodding for weaknesses and any potential advantage you can use, and yet he lies oblivious. Somehow I do not think that fitting for a self-proclaimed god. Do you?"

She coils and knots as she signs, watching the metallic surface of each claw shine as she takes them through the motions. I am not fool enough to think he doesn't know what I'm doing, poisoner.

Another smile. A dismissive flick of his fans as he returns his attention to the fungal patch he tends, checking the humidity of the soil. "I am a gardener, not a poisoner, princess." This time she bares her teeth, but he makes no move to indicate he is aware of her snarling face, silent behind his back. "It's hardly my fault if others cannot handle being around my preferred cultivars. There is something more vibrant in the fanfare of a conocybe than there is in the hymn of a puffball."

When he turns back to see her response, she rolls her eyes before signing. Natural conocybes do not generally emit toxic gases, Mustard.

He grins then. "True, true, and for that reason natural conocybes are less fun. But you did not come to banter over fungi, Maple, so back to the topic at hand." He stares her down, putrid, pulsating blessed Plague eyes boring into her own burning flames. "What will you do if he moves against you before you are ready?"

Maple tilts her head, her hind claws digging into the soil beneath her for a moment.

What makes you so sure I am not ready now?

✤ INVENTORY
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✤ RELATIONS
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Maple ; Best Friend

Citric ; Mate & Servus

Three Years Later

It was a pair of Sires who greeted them, and Maple coiled in discomfort as twin sets of red eyes stared back at her. It was off, not quite Plague in shade, but it was scarcely a year since the Conclave had abandoned the ranks of the Necromancers and she still held a deep-seated wariness of any community that held a heavy faith in Plague - or the looks of it.

Bane, as the wildclaw introduced himself, found this amusing. He had been hatched in Water, not Plague, and held neither fervent adoration nor fleeting interest in the Plaguebringer or her so-called chosen. His eyes, he explained, were red because all Sires' eyes are, an ordinary change in those who chose to carry and birth new symbionts, caring for them and finding new bondmates for them when the opportunity-- and a suitable partner-- presented itself.

He looked at her pointedly as the phrase "suitable partner" left his lips, and she grimaced. There were still... scars... from her time with the Necromancers, and the Plaguebringer's claws still marked the curve of her spine. She was not willing to be dragged into another set of posturing, backstabbing dragons and their politics.

But the other Sire shot Bane a look of her own. "The choice has to be hers, Bane, not any other's."

"True," he replied, "but if she isn't willing... what of the others?"

She coiled. Swallowed fire, swallowed discomfort. Their choices are their own, she signed. But all of us are here because other organizations, other communities, have harmed us. All here carry that pain. We will not willingly bind ourselves to any others like the Necromancers.

The coatl scoffed. "Power. Hunger. Ambition. The symbionts don't fight as Necromancers do. Once bonded, a pair is free to do as they wish, with or without the company or assistance of others of our kind. Nothing is expected of you except that you take care of your bondmate, and that they care for you."

Frowning, Maple beckoned Mustard over, watching the Sires' faces for any reaction to his Shade-touched nature. When neither spoke, she looked at him with head tilted, a silent question. What do you think?

He fanned his wings, spreading spores in front of him. "So you expect us to believe that yours is a community bereft of strife?"

"No," the coatl answered, amusement rippling through her feathers. "But what you do once you are bonded is your choice alone. You may have as frequent or as little contact with other Carrionix as you like. We have no laws except that which we have stated - care for your bondmate, as they must care for you."

Mustard's pestilent gaze returned to Maple, giving her the slightest of shrugs. "I say let whoever wishes be bound. If what they say is true, we lose nothing from trusting in it. If they lie, we may simply leave as we did before. I for one am willing to try."

Bane stared at Mustard for a long time, his sickle claws tapping the earth experimentally. Finally, he nodded. "In you, Shade-claimed, being bonded would have... different results. I do not know if any symbiont has ever willingly bound itself to one touched by Shade."

At Maple's puzzled look, the coatl bowed her head apologetically. "We do not judge. Some of those bonds turned out well for both dragon and symbiont, a stable union benefiting both. But almost all came from cases where the symbiont was stolen by the dragon and forcibly bound to the Shade. A willing union would be new." Here she paused, glancing at Bane before stepping forward. "Some of my young are curious, and would be willing to bond with you, but the choice must be yours."

Again the fae looked to Maple, and she only closed her eyes. She would not make the choice for him. But if Mustard was willing... He would not make his choice alone.

When he held out a hand to accept a symbiont, so too did she, accepting with that single motion whatever consequences might come.

code & assets by archaic #19153

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Exalting Mustard to the service of the Tidelord 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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