Stella
(#40901058)
Level 1 Fae
Familiar
Roaming Aries
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 48/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Female Fae
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.9 m
Wingspan
1.52 m
Weight
2.69 kg
Genetics
Radioactive
Pinstripe
Pinstripe
Radioactive
Striation
Striation
Radioactive
Peacock
Peacock
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Fae
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
- Ivory
- Kina
- Swamphaunt
- Elder
- Gammis
- Camo
- Rainwater
- Ximena
- Chromatic
- Roselin
- Dantor
- Enes
- Tigaudon
- Rorku
- Lark
- Morrow
- Lime
- Kesyra
- Leer
- Marsh
- Nebulosa
- Frukul
- Zinthos
- Tafadel
- Winhill
- Lightsoul
- Ysolda
- Mitts
- Vitsi
- Kitsi
- Torn
- Verda
- Cacti
- Riko
- Mikaboshi
- Erstad
- Kitter
- Moonberry
- Maffel
- Acalendra
- Ulraunt
- Tiwlip
- Sokina
- Skyscale
- Gwern
Biography
Stella is a renowned tailor and fashion designer that began her craft in her family’s old, broken down shack. She never made it far at first, and for many years she almost gave up. She couldn’t afford the pricier coloring dyes for her fabrics, and so most her dull, muted designs were hung on the rack or given to children of equally unfortunate families.
One day, she happened upon an abandoned egg, unlike any other unhatched dragon she had seen. It was prismatic and vibrant in hue, a holographic sheen shifting when held under light.
It took a full year to hatch, but Stella never gave up hope, feeling the warmth of the unborn child beneath her hands. Before she could process it, love bloomed in her heart for the child within the egg.
A harsh rain fell one day while Stella was resting outside with the egg, and before she could make it back to her shack, she felt a quiver come from the vibrant casing. As soon as the first crack scarred its surface, the rain stopped, and clouds parted. A tiny, rainbow-scaled imperial pup rolled its way out clumsily, and Stella couldn’t help but stare in awe. She was the rainbow after the storm, and fittingly, she named her Prisma.
As soon as Stella touched the baby dragon, she was taken aback. Slowly, shifting colors of saturated rainbows started to crawl up her dull, brown scales. In seconds, she was overtaken by the hues, her entire self transformed from a homely, earth toned fae into a vibrant explosion of flash and striking color. Tears filled her eyes, and she quickly ran home with the young imp pup to tend to her.
At her door, she found a single, gold-trimmed note nailed to the decrepit oak.
"You never gave up. I've watched you for many years, and have always been proud of your tenacity and will, as well for the generosity towards others like you. I was hesitant at first, placing this blessed egg in your path. As months rolled by however, I knew I had made the right choice. Continue to raise this special child like your daughter, and you will find both the bond you two form and the talents shared between you to be fulfilling.
Take care,
L."
From there on, they never separated. They lived together and moved forward, as mother and daughter, as friends, bringing color and beauty to the world around them by combining their talents. There was no longer a poor family in Stella’s village that wasn’t brought at least one joy in the form of colorful silks and shawls, and as their product and design grew in popularity, funds were always funneled back to the village. Now, Stella and Prisma’s hometown is seen as a bustling market and trading stop for fine clothing, and the commerce brings hefty revenue for their hometown, and all the once-lower class dragons in it.
As Prisma grew in age, Stella had spent those years raising her to the best of her ability. Often Prisma was at the cruel end of other children her age, envious of her origin and gift. It was no surprise that her tormentors were of wealthy status, as it was ingrained within them to view Prisma's ilk as less-than. For someone of her standing to be blessed by the Lightweaver seemed a cruel mockery. Stella was subject to much the same, except she faced a more subtle yet equally hostile attack; her peers were older, and knowledgable in the art of effective gossiping when it came to their malicious goals.
Many seethed with want for Stella to stifle Prisma, to hide her magic. This usually came in the form of complaints, such as, "my house was blue when I went to bed, and now it's orange!" Or, "that child is a menace! What if my Frou-Frou upsets her and she turns him some ghastly, irreversible shade?!"
Usually Stella would give them an earful, fierce to protect the nascent talent her daughter was still struggling to control. She had been openly supportive of Prisma's ability, and steadfast in shielding her from the jealous contempt of others. The worst cut finally came however, in a last snide attempt to run them off.
"You're taking advantage of your daugther. Surely the Lightweaver placed her here for a greater purpose than being your personal dying vat. You're just using her for profit."
That cut Stella to her core. She and Prisma had always shared fun together, evenings spent in her craft room having her create patterns, coloring the fabrics Stella would later use for her creations. It had been an outlet for Prisma to go wild with her power, to practice and concentrate on willing specific hues and designs to form. And yes, Stella would often use her daughter's creations. However, she had never done it for the profit -- which, undoubtedly did increase -- but as a mother that was overwhelmingly proud of her child's growing talent.
Was it so bad that they profited off of Prisma's gift, then? Regardless, doubt began to poison her, as well as mortifying guilt. Surely this wasn't the only reason the Lightweaver created Prisma. Surely she would better thrive under the tutelage and study of arcanists and scientists, who could help her discover the true nature and reason of her existence.
Stella stopped allowing Prisma to practice coloring her fabrics. She tried to urge her daughter to forgoe her willful and spontaneous ways, to devote herself more to discovering something deeper to her chromatic talent. To be more dignified, more studious in a way that wasn't just for fun. It hurt her to pose as an impassive and pressuring parent, but she didn't want to take advantage of Prisma any longer. There had to be something more meaningful than what their relationship was so far.
Prisma, within reason, became increasingly depressed. She feared her mother had enough of the constant ire her village directed at her, which had always struck Stella on the rebound. She feared that she didn't want to create together, to bond anymore. She felt herself an under-achieving burden, someone that couldn't live up to the expectation of whatever great thing it was that she was supposed to be. She didn't understand what she was supposed to be! Life had been good enough so far for her to be happy, why couldn't that be enough? Why must she give herself up fully to some grand scheme that wasn't even apparent?
As weeks dragged on, the colors she emitted during practice began to fade. This caused both her and Stella distress, and soon on everything Prisma touched became mutated in pattern and leeched of saturation. Prisma had done well to hide her misery under the changes in her regime, but it finally became something she couldn't bottle anymore in fear of disappointing her mom.
When Stella finally heard all of Prisma's voiced fears, she broke and couldn't keep the act up any longer. She apologized profusely to her daughter, and over the following days they both worked on bringing her color back. Overjoyed that she was once again bonding with her mother, they both went right to work on the outfit designs Stella had quietly hoarded in the time they'd stopped. Slowly but surely, relief and happiness with the familiarity overflooded the despair and doubt that had clouded Prisma's heart, and the same went for Stella. Prisma's wield over color slowly recovered. Once more, all that she willed became imbued with vibrant and unruly saturation.
They both concluded that there didn't have to be any deeper meaning to it. What Prisma was, the bond she and Stella shared, was beautiful and meaningful enough. When the first smile after forever donned Prisma's face, Stella had resolved that her daugther could be anything; so long as it brought laughter to her face and joy to her heart, it was sincere enough to be what fulfilled that 'greater' purpose. Her powers of coloration were tied to her happiness, and they had been foolish to believe that wasn't sufficient enough. It was written in the words of the Lightweaver herself, pinned to Stella's decrepit shack all those years ago.
Many seethed with want for Stella to stifle Prisma, to hide her magic. This usually came in the form of complaints, such as, "my house was blue when I went to bed, and now it's orange!" Or, "that child is a menace! What if my Frou-Frou upsets her and she turns him some ghastly, irreversible shade?!"
Usually Stella would give them an earful, fierce to protect the nascent talent her daughter was still struggling to control. She had been openly supportive of Prisma's ability, and steadfast in shielding her from the jealous contempt of others. The worst cut finally came however, in a last snide attempt to run them off.
"You're taking advantage of your daugther. Surely the Lightweaver placed her here for a greater purpose than being your personal dying vat. You're just using her for profit."
That cut Stella to her core. She and Prisma had always shared fun together, evenings spent in her craft room having her create patterns, coloring the fabrics Stella would later use for her creations. It had been an outlet for Prisma to go wild with her power, to practice and concentrate on willing specific hues and designs to form. And yes, Stella would often use her daughter's creations. However, she had never done it for the profit -- which, undoubtedly did increase -- but as a mother that was overwhelmingly proud of her child's growing talent.
Was it so bad that they profited off of Prisma's gift, then? Regardless, doubt began to poison her, as well as mortifying guilt. Surely this wasn't the only reason the Lightweaver created Prisma. Surely she would better thrive under the tutelage and study of arcanists and scientists, who could help her discover the true nature and reason of her existence.
Stella stopped allowing Prisma to practice coloring her fabrics. She tried to urge her daughter to forgoe her willful and spontaneous ways, to devote herself more to discovering something deeper to her chromatic talent. To be more dignified, more studious in a way that wasn't just for fun. It hurt her to pose as an impassive and pressuring parent, but she didn't want to take advantage of Prisma any longer. There had to be something more meaningful than what their relationship was so far.
Prisma, within reason, became increasingly depressed. She feared her mother had enough of the constant ire her village directed at her, which had always struck Stella on the rebound. She feared that she didn't want to create together, to bond anymore. She felt herself an under-achieving burden, someone that couldn't live up to the expectation of whatever great thing it was that she was supposed to be. She didn't understand what she was supposed to be! Life had been good enough so far for her to be happy, why couldn't that be enough? Why must she give herself up fully to some grand scheme that wasn't even apparent?
As weeks dragged on, the colors she emitted during practice began to fade. This caused both her and Stella distress, and soon on everything Prisma touched became mutated in pattern and leeched of saturation. Prisma had done well to hide her misery under the changes in her regime, but it finally became something she couldn't bottle anymore in fear of disappointing her mom.
When Stella finally heard all of Prisma's voiced fears, she broke and couldn't keep the act up any longer. She apologized profusely to her daughter, and over the following days they both worked on bringing her color back. Overjoyed that she was once again bonding with her mother, they both went right to work on the outfit designs Stella had quietly hoarded in the time they'd stopped. Slowly but surely, relief and happiness with the familiarity overflooded the despair and doubt that had clouded Prisma's heart, and the same went for Stella. Prisma's wield over color slowly recovered. Once more, all that she willed became imbued with vibrant and unruly saturation.
They both concluded that there didn't have to be any deeper meaning to it. What Prisma was, the bond she and Stella shared, was beautiful and meaningful enough. When the first smile after forever donned Prisma's face, Stella had resolved that her daugther could be anything; so long as it brought laughter to her face and joy to her heart, it was sincere enough to be what fulfilled that 'greater' purpose. Her powers of coloration were tied to her happiness, and they had been foolish to believe that wasn't sufficient enough. It was written in the words of the Lightweaver herself, pinned to Stella's decrepit shack all those years ago.
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Exalting Stella 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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