Pan

Pan: (written by tacotwix)

Pan’s egg was abandoned in a subsection of the Scarred Wasteland, a place where only the most vicious dragons roamed. Many birds had tried to consume his egg, and in doing so had damaged what was within. Bones jutted out of his head and spine, and his scales were a seared, fleshy pink. His eyes were a shimmering blue that he saw reflected in the blood-red of the scavengers around him. Over time, he grew to hate the eyes. They made him stand out. Pan knew the more you stood out in the Scarred Wasteland, the more of a disadvantage you had.

Pan lived his life day by day, slowly but surely becoming a scavenger just like all the dragons around him. He scrounged for food, eating whatever morsels he could. It was not until he was seven moons old that he learned why his eyes were such a stunning sapphire. He had found an old, dying scavenger, lying ignored on the ground. He had never dared to approach one of them before, but now he felt no fear. What could the dragon do? Attack him?

The ancient being had noticed his eyes immediately.
“Your eyes,” he murmured weakly, “they are blue.”

Pan nodded in response. “Yes, they are. Yours are red.”

“They are blue-” the scavenger started coughing, “because you- you are not from here.”
“Where am I from, then?” Pan inquired, leaning forward with interest.

“Y-you are fr-from the Sea o-of a T-tho-thousand Currents,” The scavenger wheezed, “J-just east o-of h-here.”

In that moment, Pan decided he would go to the Sea. He did not know what it was, but it sounded amazing.

“Yes,” he told the dragon, “I think I am from there. I will go there.”

“W-wait. A r-reminder o-of y-you-your t-true o-origins.” The old scavenger somehow mustered the strength to sit upon the elbows of his wings, and stretched a claw towards Pan’s tail. There, he left three deep gouges in Pan’s flesh.

The young Banescale hissed, but a sense of pride overcame him at the same time. The Scarred Wasteland was his true home. Over time, the scars would spread over his body as he began to make them himself. Pan knew he didn’t need the reminders. Not anymore. But he liked the pain.
When Pan reached the Sea of a Thousand Currents, the first thing he saw was a smile. He knew not what it was. Confused, he instead ventured towards the sea. Water was not something he had ever seen, and it piqued his interest. Once he laid a paw in the water, he decided he would never touch water again. It felt unnaturally good for a dragon who had lived his whole life in the landfill that was the Scarred Wasteland.

Instead he travelled forward, further than the Sea, until he reached a different part of Sornieth. He reached the Sunbeam Ruins. There, he met a dragon who attempted to talk to him.
“I am Nyx,” she said, “Ambassador of the Light. Come with me.”

From there, he followed her to the Twisting Crescendo, and he met those like him; broken pieces, put together to make something beautiful. He let himself enjoy it. Pan knew he would not be here long. He would not fall into the guise of friendship, because he would only hurt himself more. Much like the water, this was something he did not deserve.