#loreshare

[xxdemonicheartxx]

DOGMA CHOIR SERIES

A flightrising lore post

Ch 1. Nimue, The Sundrop of Life

check out the freaks(\affectionate) here

Living in the Shifting Expanse is already.... strange. The heat lightning, the endless amount of fulgurite, the way your path slithers and shifts right in front of you and the stars are a concept never seen lest you risk the thin atmosphere beyond the endless storms.

The Ivory Eye Tribe is a well established clan of dragons that span loosely across the whole territory, more so passive aid than any aggressive conquerors. Their most well noted locations of occupation are the Wiretangle Walk, embedded deep into the stone formations, threaded quietly within the Carrion Canyon within pueblos shared generously with beastclan flocks and a lone monolith of stone in the Charged Barrens.

Rikke and Wayward oversee the shifting expanse and help often so long as you can teach them something new or share something wildly unique, their price is always absurd but cheap. The strange is valued amid this troupe.

-

And strange had found them. On a particularly hot and windy night, shutters closed, doors shut and tarps hung over belongings to keep the sand away did something truly bizarre arrive. The blackened night, humming with heat lightning, lit up brilliantly like the day, a glittering streak plummeting into the Charged Barrens before snuffing out. the night silent once again. The outpost known as "The Old Gardens Tearoom" in the Barrens was about three to five miles away from ground zero, the head of the post, SlateLip, an aged and grey coatl, roused her companions before taking wing to the impact site.

In a glass impact crater was some burning substance that had smelted the sands and shattered it, sliding down to the core of the fragile bowl, SlateLip approached the mass. The heat was radiant, once her eyes adjusted to the warm glow could she see bright orange feathers glowing like hot steel, sparks flying harmlessly in the immediate area. Nudging the mass of embers carefully, proved this creature to be flesh and bone, and warm like the sun.

However its voices proved disorienting as it lifted itself slowly, shakily, ready to crumple. SlateLip being a mother, grandmother, matron, and mentor put her much larger body to its side and held it up without thinking. Ot at least under its wing where its side should've been. There was no body to be seen, but it could be felt.

"Are you injured? Can you walk? Let me help you" SlateLip's crackly voice cooed to the individual, laced with worry. She had seen things that came from the Forbidden Portal and knew this was not some dangerous rift jumper.

Numerous voices all spoke at once, no less than three at a time "I am..... tired..." "Well, sweetheart is it okay for me to carry you?" "...please"

Dozens of eyes manifest and look to SlateLip. orange, watery, scared. SlateLip would've been terrified too if she wasn't so worried for this individual. She crouches her feathery body low and helps nudge the mass of heat and light and eyes onto her shoulders, under her wings. The warmth sinking into her feathers, soothing old aches.

Hours later, arriving back to the Tearoom enters the old dragon. Greeted by Rikke, Wayward, Gelerox, and even Haren. The ruckus of the meteor was noted by the whole tribe and its main figureheads were all present.

"SlateLip, love, are you well?" Rikke's motherly voice speaks first, soft and filled with concern. Her massive antlered head bumps against SlateLip's gently in a caring greeting.

"I am well, but I fear for our guest"

"I see no visitors in your establishment, feathered kin." Gelerox, Rikke's mate, was gruff always, but SlateLip knew he was concerned, she hummed in coatl to him her reassurances and he relaxes visibly with a soft nod.

Lifting her wings like a mother swan, she reveals the living heap of burning coals, letting it spill into the surplus of cushions found in the Tearoom for its guests. A collective silence gathers over the group.

"What..." Haren starts, her withered voice creaking from deep in her chest "Who" SlateLip corrects softly "..Who.... who did you find?" "I haven't learned their name yet," SlateLip nudges the shimmering individual, "sweetheart, wake up for me... do you have a name?"

There's a pause as some of its eyes appear, opening blearily. Theres a heat shimmer where a body would be.

"Nimue." It's voices ring in unison,sounding like a choir or some vast machine.

The candles in the room flair to life, shimmering brightly in response to the name being spoken by its owner. The dragons all shift as they feel the power of the name welling in their scales and humming behind their teeth. Haren crumples into a reverent bow with a hushed gasp.

Rikke, Wayward and Gelerox all note this shift from their scholar.

"Haren. Who did we find...." Wayward's voice croaks out, knowing the enormous ridgeback's stubborn nature bends to very, very few. Her four dark eyes boring into the clan's director with a tense anxiety.

-

"An angel... Nimue, the Radiant Healer"

[princessnarwhalfr]

I'm bored and in an "I love all my dragons" mood, so:

Give me a letter of the alphabet, and I'll share one of my dragons whos name starts with that letter, along with a short blurb about them, their past, or their personality.

Or a number 1-68. Whichever dragon in my lair corresponds with that number, I'll share along with a blurb.