God it's been so long I forgot almost everything I had planned for this so gonna just wing it.
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The affinity clutch that produced Fellwing originally consisted of four dragons, though only two remain today - or so Fellwing assumes. Ever since she was sorted into house Kebros, tearing open an old wound within the two older dragons, she has not seen a glimpse of either of them.
She understands. After all, she has heard the tale of Nightsong, or as she came to be known, Enmity, too many times to count. Of how her morbid dealings with the Darkness made her eventually give herself up to it and become but a Shadow, of how she must've planned for it all along, of how she wanted to be rid of magic so much she would turn her fangs to the Moons themselves, of how Stalwart had to pay the ultimate price, slain by her claws. For what was House Kebros, if not a breeding ground for traitors?
Fellwing doesn't know the details of the story, but she believes - wants to believe, at least - that there is more to it than is told. Far be it from her to say that out loud, though.
A member of house Kebros, Nightsong was a withdrawn dragon who spent more time in her visions than outside them, and interacted little with others. She was a lithe dragon with a long, almost serpentine-body, her scales dark and shimmering with splotches of bright orange; stars upon a night sky. Though she rarely spoke, it's said that when she did, despite her quiet voice, all those within earshot were almost spellbound to listen. An irony, as she herself was wary of magic. The visions she received were rarely pleasant sort, and many considered her a dragon of ill omen, as if she brought on the disasters she spoke of, instead of simply warning others about them. For that, she unnerved the dragons around her, sometimes even the other members of her affinity clutch, as much as they cared about her. That was, except for Stalwart; he always trusted her implicitly, and it was through his efforts that the others originally started to, as well. Her current whereabouts are unknown.
Stalwart of house Brynback was not the largest dragon among his peers, but he was sturdy as stone, and it was said that despite his outwards gruffness, he had a heart the size of all the moons combined. His grey scales were likened to steel, marred as they were by scars. He had seen his fair share of battles, always volunteering to help whomever may need it. He was noble and kind, but as serious as they came. He didn't understand jokes, and though he meant well, he could word things badly and be blunter than intended; a flaw that originally earned him distaste, until other dragons got to know him and his many good deeds. Even then, few had seen him smile, some wondered if he even could. Those who had seen him by his affinity clutch's side, particularly Nightsong's, however, did not wonder; they'd seen it first hand.
When it comes to smiles, Tinkertooth had enough to go around, be that their smiles always lacked a few teeth. A member of house Rothscar, they used to be known for their happy-go-lucky attitude, barrage of bad jokes and inability to sit still, all of which belied an expert inventor and an architect. However, ever since the tragedy that befell half their affinity clutch, their smiles have become more rare, and their inventions more frequent. They always have their nose buried in some sort of work and rarely emerge from their workshop. Their scales are a muddy orange, further muddled by dust, oil, and whatever else they've handled that day. Their wings are large and powerful, much longer than their body, and they're indeed an excellent flier. An early bird, they can be spotted circling the islands twice every morning at concerning speeds to rid their head of sleep and make room for new ideas. You can recognize their handiwork by their signature: an actual dragon tooth, embedded somewhere in the building or item in question. Worry not, most of them are milk teeth shed by baby drakes that they've collected over the years. Some are not - the work they're most proud of earn a tooth from their own mouth.
Cobaltsheen, a member of house Semscale, is a scholar with brilliantly blue scales and, according to his peers, even more brilliant a mind. Few are the topics he has not studied in his pursuit for knowledge. His wings are feathered and face vaguely bird-like, with sharp eyes and a small snout. Though known as vain, fussy, and somewhat uptight, he loves to teach younger drakes and is very supportive of others in their academic pursuits. If you show him ambition, he will take you under your wing for an eternity. On the other hand, he does not tolerate laziness, and knows no greater tragedy than potential wasted. And if you earn his scorn, it's tough to get back on his good side, as many a troublemaking student has learned. He was the first to renounce Nightsong, the one to coin her new name, and the one to spread talk of her misdeeds to any who'd listen. He also, notably, abhors Fellwing.
Fellwing also has three siblings, though she doesn't know much about them and has purposefully kept her distance. She's quite sure her parents wouldn't approve of her approaching the siblings with the dangerous ideals of House Kebros, after all.
Whisper, true to her house of Myndoth, is a secretive drake that few know any details about. Concerning, considering she seems to know a great many details about her peers. She is said to appear at random in the vicinity of various discussions, and has earned the ire of more than one older drake for it.
Flutterflight, born a runt with a stumped left wing, was assigned to house Semscale along with his eldest sibling, Flourwing. He studies alternative means to give drakes flight, and has installed an amateur contraption on his stumped wing. He's apparently quiet, studious and diligent, but some have said he's also prone to pranks. No one's ever caught him red-handed, though, so it might just be hearsay.
Flourwing, also a member of house Semscale, is a nurturing drake who treats their fellow clutchmates as little siblings to take care of. This goes twicefold for Flutterflight, much to his dismay. They're a large drake for their age and like to keep themselves physically fit - if you ask them about it, they'll joke that you need some muscle to properly knead dough! Any further questions will be silenced with some delicious baked goods, as per her favourite hobby.
It felt good to get the words off his chest, to roll the weight of guilt on someone else for a change. Felt good to raise his voice and feel his chest expand with air, to breathe, to find an outlet for at least some of his frustrations. It felt good to see Shun mad instead of dismissive - and hey, if she got angry enough to punch him, well, he was sure that'd feel good too.
It didn't feel good to watch her face fall.
Before Duncan could so much as open his mouth in retort, she threw a torn sleeve at him, revealing... scars? Duncan stared at them as if he trying to decipher a foreign script, unable to make sense of what he saw. How did... how did she have scars? He had none, and he'd seen his insides, had to hold them when he ran!
It occurred to him, then and there, that had he been there for last night's fight, even if he'd done nothing but stand there and weather blows in her stead, she might've not had those scars, either. And if... if she couldn't heal up like he could, then Yuki definitely wouldn't, either. Maybe rest wouldn't save him. Maybe he'd never wake up again. He wasn't even-- wasn't like them.
Yuki was... going to die.
Whatever weight Duncan had managed to push off his chest returned tenfold right there, in the silence that rung after all the shouting had died down. Shun backed away from him as if in slow motion. Everything felt still and dead.
Then shun ran off. Fast. Faster than he'd expected, so fast Duncan wasn't sure if he could follow. He hadn't tested his speed. He'd yet to test anything, because he'd done nothing. But he would now. As much as Shun hated him, she shouldn't be out there alone! She'd just mentioned a monster. If she went alone and got attacked, there was no telling what--
A scream tore through the air, shattering what remained of the silence and startling Duncan out of his wits. He whirled his head towards Asahi. He'd heard the guy mumble something earlier on, and had half-assumed Sasuke was up, or at least coherent enough to hear if not talk. Apparently, he really wasn't, and Asahi really wasn't taking it well. Masato brushed past him without a word on his way over to help them, earning a brief glare. Really, dude? Not even a thanks? ... Whatever. Duncan turned his gaze away. Whatever CPR-adjacent shit the two were going to do, he'd just get in the way.
"Ow!" The word came out more from reflex than any actual pain. He turned to find Maki glaring up at him. "She did? I don't-- I mean, how was I supposed to know? I look like someone in the loop about everyone's crushes? Bet you only know cause of girl talk. And, wait, did you kick me with that?! God you're an idiot."
Duncan tapped Maki on the head with his fist, more a pat than anything else, then turned to look over to Haruko. His brows furrowed defensively, even though she'd yet to even say anything. "I didn't know. And I-- yeah, maybe I worded things bad there. But I wasn't exactly wrong. I was just--"
Asahi's cries returned, and Duncan realized that issue still hadn't been resolved. He was pleading, for someone like him. Was Masato not enough? How many did he need? Duncan looked around, only to see the now-distant backs of Tsubasa and Ayana. They must've gone after Shun, and he didn't dare stop them. He had no idea where Kogen was, if he was still alive. There was no one else around, except... him.
"What about Yuki," he heard someone shout. Yuki. If Sasuke could be saved, then so could Yuki.
With a sharp inhale, Duncan strode over and knelt next to Asahi. Their differences aside, the guy had helped him, in the fight on their first night. He owed him one. He owed him... this, whatever this was. They'd save Sasuke. They'd save Yuki.
"I don't know what you're on about," Duncan offered his arms forward, expecting Asahi to know what to do with them, because he sure as hell didn't. He glanced over to Masato, who seemed just as clueless. "But I'm here. To share and... connect, or whatever. As long as it's nothing weird."
He was going to do this. He was, at very-fucking-last, going to do something.
Before Cedric could shout any more instructions or encouragements to Warden, the performer turned her attention to him, all high and mighty up on her stage, to ask what he was shouting about - as if it wasn't clear.
"Huh?" Cedric turned to her, blinking. "What, got glitter in your ears? I'm having a Pokémon battle over here!" He gestured towards the two Pokémon. "That thing yours? If so, you better start cheering it on, cause Warden's about t-"
Before he could finish that thought, a chuckle from nearby caught his attention. It came from the tall guy he'd pushed past, who was now imploring them to stop shouting too, Come on, this was a festival, you were supposed to be loud! Right? Man, this small town folk...
The guy introduced himself as Olivier, a scientist, then prompted the others to do the same. It came a little out of nowhere, catching Cedric off guard, and it showed on his face.
"... Cedric?" it sounded more a question than an introduction. Awkwardly, Cedric let go of whatever - or whoever - he'd been leaning on and straightened, tearing his gaze away from the battle long enough to look over the others. (Oh, look, the trash bag was gone now!) He wasn't sure what he'd interrupted, but the lingering tension betrayed that something had been going on - something that this Olivier guy was now trying to fix with a smile and a change of topic. Sure, fine...
He shrugged one shoulder, not really able to claim any title or job comparable to a scientist. "I'm just a dude. With a Pokémon. So, uh, guess that makes me a trainer, huh?"
As if to illustrate his point, sparks and embers flew every which way behind him; the Snubbull's Thunder Fang had earned it a pained yelp and a retaliative Fire Fang in response.
Ok at this point I should just not give any time estimates ever because that just makes it more likely something comes up and prevents me from doing the thing OOPS.
Solved this back when the thread was first posted, but even though I love everything about this (the puzzle and some of the fields in the character sheet especially, you know what I'm talking about, I'd wager), I held off on applying since I wasn't sure whether I'd have time and couldn't settle on a character idea. Knowing it's closing almost makes me wanna change my mind now.
Will definitely be reading along either way, though!
In retrospect, Cedric should've probably kept Warden in his ball. Letting a curious, untrained puppy roam free in a place full of people, scents and food wasn't... the best idea he'd ever had, exactly. But considering Warden was meant to be a companion Pokémon for the home, there'd never been a need to recall him, and so Cedric had not.
Damnit, if something happened to the pup, Cedric would never forgive his idiot of an uncle. This was all his fault for asking him to come all this way for-- for what, he still didn't know. At least Warden hadn't ran off too far; Cedric could hear him barking over the noise of the crowd. It was joined by another bark, one he didn't recognize. Great.
Cedric pushed past people faster, one leg still ablaze with pain, gait uneven and unsteady. Soon enough, he realized he was swimming against the current; people were quickly distancing themselves from the stage, and after a few more steps, Cedric understood why. A pungent smell assaulted his senses, and he nearly gagged.
A white-haired man of about his height stood in the way, so Cedric elbowed him to get past, only to catch the strangest sight he'd seen in a while. The performer, draped in extravagant clothes and colours, was yelling at some girl to... put away what seemed to be... thrash? Why the girl was attending a fair with a literal trash bag, Cedric didn't know and didn't really care, because he'd finally found what he came for!
Warden had let out a surprised yelp upon being bitten, and had wasted no time trying to return the favour. It had tried to tackle the Snubbul into a rough play-fight, barking, biting and growling all the while.
"Warden, you can't---" Cedric was about to scold the Growltihe, when he realized neither was actually trying to kill the other - or at least, he was pretty sure they weren't. Hopefully. So, his concerned expression turned to a grin, and his call to quit turned into a-- "Can't let that thing win! C'mon, you got this, we take these!"
One of his hands curled into a fist, the other was used to lean against whoever happened to stand closest for support. The trash bag still smelled.
Hi! I appreciate the interest. Unfortunately I'm pretty much at my limit here haha, eight is a lot already and I have two players from the previous iteration that also expressed interest.
Alright, gotcha. Lemme know if room opens up later on, yeah?
Majoraa
wanderingwolf
Snowdrops
Crimson Flame
Abstract Proxy
Guardian Angel Haruki
The World
BrokenPromise
Digizel
TheMushroomLord
