Despite the darkness, there was something a little more eerie about the Caverns tonight. Maybe it was the scorch marks running up the walls or the remnants of rubble that had been too large to clear away safely when there were two males guarding the eggs with even more vigilance than usual. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that this time there was an undercurrent of sadness behind the thrumming anticipation. A sadness because of eggs that would never hatch.
Deep in the shadows, an egg had begun to shiver and twitch, an egg that seemed to barely contain the raw power of nature itself. The peculiar lines, so much like crashing lightning across a stormy sky seemed to vibrate and shift across the surface as the cracking lines began running down the surface.
Up in the stands, there was a bristle of sudden interest as the sounds of cracking began echoing around the Caverns and one particularly enthusiastic young spectator leaned over the Stands, pointing fervently to the shadowy shapes of the eggs below. “It’s alive! It’s aliiiiive!” He called out, his voice jubilant before his mother next to him hastily made him be silent.
Shaking and jumping, the Lightning in a Bottle egg continued to hop and wriggle in its sandy divot before it fell apart with a loud crack that echoed all about it. The blue that lurched forward clumsily prompted a gasp. The head that peered about it was gloriously handsome, finely sculpted and a beautiful light shade of blue. He was big too, for a blue at least and he huddled himself together as though trying to perhaps seem smaller than he was. (( Mother? )) The quiet voice seemed shy and tentative for all that it carried across the Caverns with sonorous ease. The bulky blue hatching shifted again, stumbling forward only this time, the gasp of delight from the Stands was more akin to something of horror. It was quite clear that the little blue did not look… right. In fact he looked horribly as though he had been made up of, well, mismatched pieces of hatchling. With the exception of his stunning head, the blue looked decidedly wonky, something that wasn’t helped by the peculiar patchwork colouration that seemed to start and end at each limb.
Snorting the remnants of egg slime from his nostrils, he looked about him. (( Mother? Father? Are you there? You made me and now I am here. You gave me life and it is mine to have. But there is no one else here… )) The little blue seemed decidedly mournful about that fact. Was he really alone? Truly alone? He let loose a sad little bugle as he seemed to contemplate this, his handsome face seeming deep in thought as he peered about him at the still shapes of his clutchmates’ eggs. The peculiar looking little blue knew he was here for a reason. He didn’t understand what it was. But he felt it. Had felt it deep inside from the moment his eyes had opened. He knew he must have a purpose. Why else would he have been brought into this strange, dark world? Every living thing must have a purpose, a place, something in him knew that. Even him? Yes, even him. Shaking himself to his feet, he stumbled forward again, clearly more uncoordinated than even the average hatching and caught in the light of a dim glow, it seemed that perhaps his limbs were not the same size, one leg bigger than the other, a furled wing that seemed stumpy compared to its partner.
(( I want… I want… )) He knew he wanted something. Knew that it was terribly important. Sniffing the air, he looked about him, his eyes a whirling haze of reddish swirls that seemed to glow ominously in the barely lit Caverns. His shadow cast monstrous shapes on the walls as he passed, stopping to sniff here and there. Something felt terribly wrong all about him and the little blue was very aware of the eyes that seemed to scrutinise his every move. He could feel them, high up above him. All of them watching.
Had he done something wrong? It felt terribly as though they were watching, judging. But he had only just woken up, only just stepped onto the hot sand that made his feet prickle. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong. He was just… him. Him and no one else. But he wanted a… someone. Or maybe a something? He wasn’t sure. Couldn’t quite describe it. But it was there, under his skin like a static charge. He felt the stare of invisible eyes and the roiling turbulence of anger grew. If he could not inspire love, he could cause fear! Ferociously he leapt forward, laid bare in the light in all his misshapen bulk. His teeth gnashed and his eyes whirled. If they thought him a monster, a monster he could be.
(( Stop looking at me! I have done nothing wrong! )) He roared, his voice carrying across the Sands and would put many a Harper to shame in its emotional projection. He lurched forward, his heavy and stilted movement only amplifying the peculiar disproportion of his body as he went. He did not know where he went, only that he was pulled this way. (( Is there none amongst these myriads of men that would pity me?! That would assist me?! )) It was becoming increasingly apparent that there was a deep rage growing within the blue as he lurched towards the white robed Candidates. He seemed barely able to contain himself with every step that he took. In his short life, Prometh, for that was indeed his name, felt certain that there was one thing and one thing only that he wanted. Acceptance. And there was only one place that he would find it, somewhere that was away from these awful, staring eyes.
Pushing through the Candidates, Prometh was fixated on something that only he saw. It was, to him, like a shining beacon. (( Almira! To you and only you I shall tell my true name. I shall whisper it in your ear for you must be the first to hear my name and not the names that men might give me! There is a rage within me, the likes of which should never escape, but there is also a love within me, the likes of which you have never seen. It is to you I give this love Almira, you and no one else! ))
As he came to a stop, the rainbow iridescence in his eyes shone from his beautiful face, regardless of the unorthodox appearance of the rest of him. Prometh had a world of love to give, despite the ugliness of his appearance. The one thing he wanted more than anything in the world was to be accepted and to be loved. He had found that love. It was right in front of him.
Prometh: From the moment he falls from his egg, Prometh is clearly a blue of proportions that will see him, eventually, on par with smaller browns and for a blue he will be considered practically ginormous. However, despite his size, Prometh seems... almost mismatched, a little as though along the way he was pieced together with an assortment of parts from dragons of different sizes and shades of blue - something that only seems to enhance the appearance of being put together from so many different pieces. He seems oddly uniform as well which just adds to it, fading abruptly from dark to light (or vice versa) precisely where the limb would end with heavy splotches of bright blue at the base of his neck.
As he grows older this mismatched appearance will be fair less obvious - barring his colours, but when he first emerges, he will look eerily... uneven, something the Dragonhealer's will proclaim is a result of the recent fire. A leg that seems too small, a forelimb that seems too big, even a wing that is bigger than the other.
Despite his "wonkiness", Prometh is clearly planning on becoming a mass of brute force and muscle, his body a rippling mass of strength that will see him able to complete Falls that will exhaust a smaller dragon much earlier on. But his facial appearance will be, well the only word for it is handsome, incredibly so. Where the proportions seemed peculiar on his body, his head is well-defined with a strong jaw and heavy brow that makes him appear deep in thought.
For all he might seem almost a little... ugly in his appearance, it is clear that his personality is anything but. All he has wanted since the moment he cracked his shell was to bond with another sentient creature and Prometh values that bond with everything he has, happy to spend hours conversing with his Rider about every little thing from the complications of politics to the beauty of the sunset that day. Deeply compassionate, Prometh's abject desire is to find love and acceptance from those around him and can be prone to fits of huge and violent rage should he be judged for his peculiar appearance. His Rider will need to be the voice of reason until he understands the world a little better.
However, at his best, Prometh is deeply intelligent with a passion for learning new and wonderful things and has an eloquence and articulation that is true to his colour and would be sure to make any Harper proud. He has a profoundly strong sense of right or wrong, especially against those who use superficial bias as their reasoning to cause harm. Especially fascinated by thunderstorms, Prometh will sit and stare in wonder at the lightning that strikes the ground, often pondering the origin of such power and marveling at its danger.
Almira had joined the other gold hopefuls up in the cavern where Foreth was guarding the two precious eggs, and was watching them with rapt attention, waiting with crossed fingers and bated breath.
But it wasn't one of those gorgeous golds that was to be hers. No, the voice, meant only for her to hear, came from below. A voice that sounded so angry that it frightened Almira, almost as much as it its overjoyed her.
Almira was wide eyed as she turned away from the gold eggs, stepping out of the smaller cavern to look down at the main Hatching, taking place on the dark sands below. Down there, something now held her complete attention. That voice, it urged her to go down the darkly lit steps. Love, it said. It -he- had love and rage. Somehow, Almira knew it was a he, and she went down the dark stairs as quickly as she dared.
And there, at the bottom, there he was. Her hatchling. A beautiful blue face, rainbow facets dancing in his eyes.
Almira blinked away tears of joy as she knelt in front of the blue hatchling, holding her arms out to gather him in. "And what is your name, my precious boy?" It didn't matter in the least that she hadn't Impressed a gold. Or that the blue hatchling looked like a lopsided patchwork quilt. Not after hearing that voice in her mind.
((I am Prometh. The first and only. And you are my only, Almira.))