Corona
(#25527096)
But even the vilest amongst my clan are precious to me.
Familiar
Chocolate Noggle
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Female Tundra
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.06 m
Wingspan
3.33 m
Weight
389.2 kg
Genetics
Crimson
Petals
Petals
Violet
Striation
Striation
Rust
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 24 Tundra
EXP: 95480 / 158942
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
11
INT
30
VIT
45
MND
100
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
CORONA
Founder • Matriarch
♪For they are all my children, all, that I swore to defend,
it is my duty to become both queen and trusted friend♫
Founder • Matriarch
♪For they are all my children, all, that I swore to defend,
it is my duty to become both queen and trusted friend♫
 |
Personality
There should be nothing imposing about Corona. Her voice is soft, her silk-framed movements graceful but uncertain, and when given the chance she would rather watch quietly from the outskirts of crowds than be the one talking at its very centre.
Yet when she holds herself slightly higher to Command for the sake of the greater good, it seems like all discord and noise quieten for her words to be heard- realised- a sea of followers bowing to their queen. And her words hold more power than she would ever wish upon any mortal creature. Everyone in Clan Wonderstark, from the fiercely independent warriors to the morally dubious mages, would never even think of directly disobeying her Commands. Part of her power comes from a familial trust. For the longest time, Corona had given away her headship to act as the advisor for the clan's dual leaders. She was the figure of wisdom who settled complications in decisions and diplomacy with precise and intuitive insight- and more importantly, the rose-scented caretaker and teacher of every hatchling brought into the clan, abandoned or otherwise. Even the passion of the most dedicated scientist in the clan paled in comparison to her fierce love. The other part is magic. Corona does not understand the basic theories that all Observatory students could recite backwards- let alone how to weave spells to defy nature and break space-time, but she has an innate grasp on empathic psionics that allows her aura to affect the hearts of everyone around her. This, in conjugation with the Shade-channelling enchantments branded into her body, makes even the most hostile corrupted creatures hesitate before attacking her. So in spite of her power, there should be nothing- nothing at all commanding about the serene mother of the clan. But please, do not hurt her children. She has many connections that will make sure you regret it. |
Early Life
The border between the Starfall Isles and the Southern Icefield is weird.
Enormous beasts with far too many eyes and fins lurk in the deep waters. Icebergs tall as the pines of the Tangled Wood crystallise in a day, only to vanish without a trace an hour later. Rose and magenta auroras crackle across the night sky every half a month or so, heralding howling blizzards days later.
Corona's memory, gifted by tundra standards, was still unremarkable compared to that of the average fae. That being said, she could remember her first aurora- how it danced like a charged flame as she snuggled amongst her flock, her fur matted with the scent of fresh snow. The closest members around her had hummed lullabies as they caressed her with soft wings.
Corona could only remember her last aurora with a cue. There was the reek of blood, tears, and equine sweat. There was screaming, and lashing pain across a wing. There was the heavy bitterness of knowing that the flock stood fast, helpless and unwilling as the centaur raiders dragged her away, the aurora flickering unsympathetically above them as it continued its dance.
She could not remember anyone from the flock.
After that, there was no memory to account for any horror or fear of being kept in the centaur camp, only the ever-consuming, ever-present bitterness that smelt of tears, sweat and ether.
Still, she must have retained hope somewhere. From Exeter's recounts, Corona could almost remember soothing the young blue-and-pink fae trapped beside her, humming lullabies that no longer held any meaning of safety.
She had no memory to account for being kept in the centaur camp, but she could remember her day of sacrifice- how Shade curled into her psyche and withered her magical reserves, whispering promises of annihilation.
Then time-space rippled, popping her ears and sending her hairs on end. The whispers heightened to a scream of exhilaration.
And there was only the scent of parchment, mulberries, and fallout.
Corona could not remember her time sentenced to the quarantine at Focal Point- even less so when even Exeter had no idea what occurred. However, she did know that the end of it felt like waking from a dream, her fur bleached golden and the whispers finally silenced as she took her first breath of fresh air in Arcanist-knows-how-long.
Exeter had come for her, of course. He had a plan to carve out a clan in the Reaches, to explore his potential as a newly-appointed mage with her at his side to master the ropes of leadership.
Corona complied.
A budding clan was hard to manage. As soon as she had the chance, Corona gave up her mantle as the matriarch to the lively Peleides, who was undoubtedly a much better foil for Exeter than her, to purely focus on caring for the influx of young hatchlings the clan was taking in. Opal, who spoke in short phrases and tended to fall asleep working on too many things at once. Sinner, who was rude-worded but kind-hearted. Eloquent Nacreous, who sat as far away from the spontaneous Duskfall as possible. Jade, who dreamt of romance and greatness. Westmorland, so young yet so ready to take responsibility. Echo, who was the most cheerful hatchling in the world when not swinging between desolate and frustrated.
A budding clan would be harder to manage than three dragons are capable of, if not for the support of friendly clans, the passionate drives of all the dragons that stayed and all the children she raised successfully after too many sleepless nights and magical burns.
A budding clan never became easier to manage and always required watchful care. Every hatchling required a unique way to treat them to make them feel safe and loved. Every proposed idea required at least half a day's worth of thinking before confirming or denying. But everything was worth it as the clan poured from their hollow in the Crystalspine Reaches into a clearing of Starwood Strand.
Until it wasn't.
It had to be cruel misfortune that Corona started losing her children after the migration.
Sinner, then Nucifera, then Nacreous, then Jade.
Their losses had nothing to do with her, of course, but as she wept for them she could not help thinking that it was due to her incompetence to protect them. In each of the following weeks, she poured her grief and self-doubt into the deepest crevices of her soul.
And slowly but surely, the darkness sealed there began to whisper back.
It was quiet at first- so quiet that the tundra could brush it off as a hallucination. But as more gold fur began to litter the nursery floor, they grew louder, more hostile, more hungry. Corona began to make excuses to retreat into the empty nursery whenever she could, doing her best to stave off the ever-present Shade. It worked until it didn't.
Her parasite's dark tendrils curled around her heart, and her thoughts faded into white noise.
For an eternity, she drifted quietly amongst the screaming Shade, watching it communicate and coordinate through rusty arcs of light...
...Until she blinked back into starlit consciousness, head reeling, muscles burning from glowing runes branded into her sides and legs, encircled anxiously by everyone she had ever known. Leaders. Friends. Her children. Exeter was the first to flit to her side, eyes aglow with magic. Nobody was hurt during her rampage, he told her, and now she herself would be forever safe from the Shade, all thanks to the spells in the runes.
They all crowded up to her after that, their joy spilling into the night air and decorating the silent starwood birches. Corona laughed with them until the overwhelming attention on her became too much to handle. Gently, she told everyone to give her some space.
And in unnoticed, bone-chilling unison, they all did.
For an entire month afterwards, Corona mourned amongst the starwood birches, and the rest of the clan mourned with her. She mourned for the clanmates who left in light of trauma, for all of her dead children, and for Exeter and Peleides, her leaders and two best friends.
Wonderstark thrived on the help of allies -both shady and lawful- that the leaders had befriended, who brought about resources and comfort. One day, a visit from the clan who harmed one of her first children left her with a skydancer hatchling.
Slowly but surely, Corona picked herself up, then picked up and put on the mantle the faes had left behind- first to properly look after her new daughter, then to look after those who knew the clan's state but nevertheless stayed and waited.
It took months to transition back from nomadic wandering, but when the clan settled, they worked fast. Chalcedony structures sprung up, magitech interwove with starwood birches, and soon the new Void overlooked and partially surrounded that which it was named after.
At the head of everything is Corona, the gentle mother who demands righteousness but leaves enough holes in her wording such that the more clever dragons could work around them if desired, who knows each individual clan member well and helps them find their best style to maximise their potential.
Not the leader the clan needs, perhaps, but definitely the one they deserve.
By yours truly
By UVLeo
By hexc0141f
by justarev!
Bio Layout: CityTurtle
Enormous beasts with far too many eyes and fins lurk in the deep waters. Icebergs tall as the pines of the Tangled Wood crystallise in a day, only to vanish without a trace an hour later. Rose and magenta auroras crackle across the night sky every half a month or so, heralding howling blizzards days later.
Corona's memory, gifted by tundra standards, was still unremarkable compared to that of the average fae. That being said, she could remember her first aurora- how it danced like a charged flame as she snuggled amongst her flock, her fur matted with the scent of fresh snow. The closest members around her had hummed lullabies as they caressed her with soft wings.
Corona could only remember her last aurora with a cue. There was the reek of blood, tears, and equine sweat. There was screaming, and lashing pain across a wing. There was the heavy bitterness of knowing that the flock stood fast, helpless and unwilling as the centaur raiders dragged her away, the aurora flickering unsympathetically above them as it continued its dance.
She could not remember anyone from the flock.
After that, there was no memory to account for any horror or fear of being kept in the centaur camp, only the ever-consuming, ever-present bitterness that smelt of tears, sweat and ether.
Still, she must have retained hope somewhere. From Exeter's recounts, Corona could almost remember soothing the young blue-and-pink fae trapped beside her, humming lullabies that no longer held any meaning of safety.
She had no memory to account for being kept in the centaur camp, but she could remember her day of sacrifice- how Shade curled into her psyche and withered her magical reserves, whispering promises of annihilation.
Then time-space rippled, popping her ears and sending her hairs on end. The whispers heightened to a scream of exhilaration.
And there was only the scent of parchment, mulberries, and fallout.
Corona could not remember her time sentenced to the quarantine at Focal Point- even less so when even Exeter had no idea what occurred. However, she did know that the end of it felt like waking from a dream, her fur bleached golden and the whispers finally silenced as she took her first breath of fresh air in Arcanist-knows-how-long.
Exeter had come for her, of course. He had a plan to carve out a clan in the Reaches, to explore his potential as a newly-appointed mage with her at his side to master the ropes of leadership.
Corona complied.
A budding clan was hard to manage. As soon as she had the chance, Corona gave up her mantle as the matriarch to the lively Peleides, who was undoubtedly a much better foil for Exeter than her, to purely focus on caring for the influx of young hatchlings the clan was taking in. Opal, who spoke in short phrases and tended to fall asleep working on too many things at once. Sinner, who was rude-worded but kind-hearted. Eloquent Nacreous, who sat as far away from the spontaneous Duskfall as possible. Jade, who dreamt of romance and greatness. Westmorland, so young yet so ready to take responsibility. Echo, who was the most cheerful hatchling in the world when not swinging between desolate and frustrated.
A budding clan would be harder to manage than three dragons are capable of, if not for the support of friendly clans, the passionate drives of all the dragons that stayed and all the children she raised successfully after too many sleepless nights and magical burns.
A budding clan never became easier to manage and always required watchful care. Every hatchling required a unique way to treat them to make them feel safe and loved. Every proposed idea required at least half a day's worth of thinking before confirming or denying. But everything was worth it as the clan poured from their hollow in the Crystalspine Reaches into a clearing of Starwood Strand.
Until it wasn't.
It had to be cruel misfortune that Corona started losing her children after the migration.
Sinner, then Nucifera, then Nacreous, then Jade.
Their losses had nothing to do with her, of course, but as she wept for them she could not help thinking that it was due to her incompetence to protect them. In each of the following weeks, she poured her grief and self-doubt into the deepest crevices of her soul.
And slowly but surely, the darkness sealed there began to whisper back.
It was quiet at first- so quiet that the tundra could brush it off as a hallucination. But as more gold fur began to litter the nursery floor, they grew louder, more hostile, more hungry. Corona began to make excuses to retreat into the empty nursery whenever she could, doing her best to stave off the ever-present Shade. It worked until it didn't.
Her parasite's dark tendrils curled around her heart, and her thoughts faded into white noise.
For an eternity, she drifted quietly amongst the screaming Shade, watching it communicate and coordinate through rusty arcs of light...
...Until she blinked back into starlit consciousness, head reeling, muscles burning from glowing runes branded into her sides and legs, encircled anxiously by everyone she had ever known. Leaders. Friends. Her children. Exeter was the first to flit to her side, eyes aglow with magic. Nobody was hurt during her rampage, he told her, and now she herself would be forever safe from the Shade, all thanks to the spells in the runes.
They all crowded up to her after that, their joy spilling into the night air and decorating the silent starwood birches. Corona laughed with them until the overwhelming attention on her became too much to handle. Gently, she told everyone to give her some space.
And in unnoticed, bone-chilling unison, they all did.
|
Current
Corona would never willingly be a leader. Her voice is soft and delicate, her silk-framed movements graceful but uncertain, and when given the chance she would rather watch quietly from the outskirts of crowds than be the one talking in its very centre. Thus she suppressed her new power for as long as possible, along with any guilt of letting the Shade reinvade her mind. She limited her presence, utilising her aura only to comfort those in need. She learned to frame any and all requests and advice as suggestions. Anything to prevent the misuse of such a dangerous ability. Yet suddenly there she was, losing friend after friend to the Shade beast and the imploding time-space around her. If her sides weren't burning with reignited runes- if the smell of blood and Shade and ozone didn't waft so strongly around her, she could almost convince herself it was just a bad dream. But if it wasn't, why was she not moving? The abomination jerked its head towards her as tendrils of darkness grappled at Exeter's two fellow warriors, causing starwood leaves to scatter like confetti in a hurricane. She had shouted at everyone to escape if it were an option already. She was, for the worse, alone. It twitched, almost in a conflicted manner, and lunged. "NO!" Out of the corner of an eye, Echo, the last of her first children, dashed forwards and barrelled the head away, sparks arching and rippling across the expanding Void. Almost effortlessly, the beast's head arched backwards, snatching up the mirror and flinging her into the starry nothingness. The Void shifted as its latest victim dissolved into nothing. And exploded. Someone screamed for Echo as Corona was thrown backwards, impacting and impaled into a pillar of chalcedony. Someone glared at the Shade beast hard in the eyes and growled, voice hoarse and grief-laden, "You will listen, and you will not harm anyone ever again. Now stop this mess." The Void still pulsed and the trees still howled from Peleides's dying winds, but it felt like the chaos of the entire clearing had simply stopped raging as the Shade beast shrank to the form of an amorphous imperial, releasing Teeka and Keferia from its grasp. It tilted its head at her like a day-old hatchling. "Papa?" Then its knees buckled as Teeka swung her cleaver down hard on its head. |
|
Wonderstark thrived on the help of allies -both shady and lawful- that the leaders had befriended, who brought about resources and comfort. One day, a visit from the clan who harmed one of her first children left her with a skydancer hatchling.
Slowly but surely, Corona picked herself up, then picked up and put on the mantle the faes had left behind- first to properly look after her new daughter, then to look after those who knew the clan's state but nevertheless stayed and waited.
It took months to transition back from nomadic wandering, but when the clan settled, they worked fast. Chalcedony structures sprung up, magitech interwove with starwood birches, and soon the new Void overlooked and partially surrounded that which it was named after.
At the head of everything is Corona, the gentle mother who demands righteousness but leaves enough holes in her wording such that the more clever dragons could work around them if desired, who knows each individual clan member well and helps them find their best style to maximise their potential.
Not the leader the clan needs, perhaps, but definitely the one they deserve.
|
Trivia
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮  >Corona gets around her memory handicap by keeping a collection of scent jars to remind her of significant events that she had liked. >Corona's favourite memory jar smells of feathers and sunlight, reminding her of the founding of the first lair nursery back in the Crystalspine Ridges. >Corona veils her eyes when given the chance- out of shyness, not secrecy. >Corona has a love for abstract art and keeps notes on those she is fond of. ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ |
Relationships
╭━━━━━━━━━╮  lost friend  closest advisor  close friend ╰━━━━━━━━━╯ |
Art
By yours truly
By UVLeo
By hexc0141f
by justarev!
Bio Layout: CityTurtle
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Exalting Corona 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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