Vindica

The only one of her clutch to pass the Trials with darker gray scales instead of pale beige, she always fought to be recognized by her mother as equal to her siblings. She was a necromancer too, not a servus, but her mother behaved as if one shade darker made her less than the twins.

She never hated her siblings, though she envied the attentions of their vain mother. It wasn't their fault. They didn't ask or choose to be her favorites, and they still played and roughhoused and studied with her as they grew into adulthood. Their uncle Adder and auntie Viper adored them all equally, and their father's love was never lacking for any of them.

But Hypoxia... nothing she did was ever good enough for her. All because her scales were just slightly darker. She was still a Necromancer, still seeking to become an Oracle, and yet she was never enough.

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Vindica - Spitefully Loving Affiliation: the Maimed Conclave (post-Court) Rank: N/A Mate: Keloid Compleat: no Name Origin: Vindication Meaning: Abilities: Orders: Polyamorous. Mates: Kudzu, Fissure, Mortali, Venin. She did not expect to be adopted into their polycule but is very happy with them. The youngest out of her clutch (Fallot, Sloane, and herself) (even though technically she's the firstborn because hers is the first ID in the hatch group lol) Neglected by her mother in her older teenage years/early adulthood. Very bitter about it. As a result, she is aggressively loving and dotes upon any hatchlings she meets, whether in the Conclave or elsewhere. She frequently stops by to leave gifts and spoil her nephews, nieces, and literally any other younger relatives of hers. She adores Gift.

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Vindica and her brothers grew up under their father's watchful gaze and their mother's immutable ego, always carefully skirting the edge of their parents' expectations. Wither of course was far more lenient and often amused by his children's less harmful antics, though he grew stormy when they truly crossed the line. More than once he had lectured Sloane on his treatment of his brother, particularly when he had found it amusing to shove Fallot into the Duling Tar-Traps. But overall, he was kind and doting, spending great lengths of time talking and playing with his children.

Perhaps his more forgiving demeanor was meant to lessen the blow of their mother's disappointment, of her ridiculously high standards, of her tendency to project her ego and self-image upon her children. While Wither was stern yet loving, Vindica had often wondered if her mother knew the meaning of "love", or had ever experienced it herself.

Their bloodline had a tendency toward producing twins, identical dragons hatched from the very same egg, so it was little surprise that one of the two eggs Hypoxia had laid produced yet another duo of males. Fallot had broken free first, but Sloane had taken a full day before he was ready to crawl from the remains of the egg his brother had left in ruins.

Alone, Vindica emerged from her egg hours after Sloane, shaking herself free of the slime coating her wings.

But despite not being twin to them, and being the youngest and smallest of the three, her relationship with her siblings was strong from the start. Not once in all their days did she believe they felt her weaker or lesser than them, even when Sloane admitted he hadn't expected her to make it through her Trials.

Their mother, on the other hand...

Twins to the last, her brothers came back from their Trials as Necromancers each, and Hypoxia was especially proud of Sloane for following in her footsteps - he, too, had underwent his Trials as a hatchling, while his less ambitious siblings waited for more opportune times. Admittedly, Fallot had not even wanted to become a Necromancer, and even Hypoxia agreed that with his condition his best outcome would likely be ghoulhood. She would rather he be no Necromancer at all than for him to come back a pestilent, uncontrolled ghoul. Still, in the end he had succeeded as well, a fully fledged Necromancer, blessed by their true Mother.

But Vindica passed, too, did she not?

In her mother's eyes, she did not.

Her brothers' scales had become brilliant, pale beige like their mother, a perfect and vibrant example of Necromantic prowess.

She, on the other hand, took after their father, her scales the color of an ancient, firm rock face, immovable stone that would not budge when challenged.

At least, that's how she saw her color. Somehow, that single shade darker than her brothers was to her mother a badge of failure. No matter that her father was as powerful a Necromancer as she and carried the same stony cast to his scales - Hypoxia had at last found her daughter's truest failure. Not privy to the noble lineage of twins, not privy to the deepest sign of Mother's favor, Vindica was hardly a Necromancer.

Even Sloane puzzled over this; it wasn't as though she had come back a 'servus, and she certainly wasn't a wraith or ghoul. Any dragon who looked upon her could see Vindica passed her Trials as a right and proper Necromancer, master of disease in all its aspects. So why could her mother not see that?

From that moment on, she never once felt her mother's love. It had been fleeting in their childhood, but now as adult Necromancers she knew it not. Hypoxia still doted on her brothers, but she was ignored, avoided. Wither did not change, still spending time and sharing meals with her, listening and offering advice on her newest studies or attempted experiments, but Hypoxia's distance became a new constant in her life.

But she never envied her brothers, not even once. It was not their fault their mother placed such importance on appearances, nor could she blame them for the Plaguebringer's mark on them. She had as much skill as they - only their mother seemed to doubt that truth.