#(not rly sure what im doing here juuuust yet but its freezing out and i felt the sudden urge to write LMAO)

[draconscious]

Blackthorn's winters seem to mirror the secluded city itself, the inhospitable mountain climate baring frosty fangs. Blustery. Bitterly cold. Brutal.

The chill signifies a perilous moment in time for the native dragons of the area, especially the vulnerable Dratini stranded throughout the sprawling range. For every hibernating youngling who manages to find solace in a cave or sheltered pond, another freezes to death. It's survival of the fittest in its most inglorious form, but increased poaching activity has upset the balance as of late, disrupted the vicious cycle.

After all, it's so much harder to find safe harbor without a friend by your side.

Clair's boots crunch through the snow as she leads her patrol on its latest Dratini recovery round. Some little dragons are caught, destined for a new life-lease from the Den or local Center. Some are past saving. The work is exhausting, thankless, heartbreaking. And yet, Clair can only scowl when someone dares to suggest that she's working too hard, pushing herself too much, shackled to the city limits. Despite everything, Blackthorn is hers, an eternal source of ferocious pride roaring within the Gym Leader's chest. (If she can't take care of things, who will?)

A wild Skarmory (helpful as ever) lets out a ringing screech in the distance, immediately jolting the tamers back to high alert. Target located.

Clair blinks away the frost from her eyelashes, huffing through frostbitten cheeks as she shoulders her pack and continues her ascent up the snowy crag towards the Dratini's location. After everything she's been through, this is merely light work, part of the job, an expected responsibility.

She's built for this.

Built to rise.