#she could talk shit about wrathion for hours i'm sorry.......

[obsidianas]

👄 + wrathion

send a ‘👄 + character name’ and my muse will talk about that character!

— @defias

"The whelp was born calling himself prince," The scoff, audible in her tone, is accompanied by contempt, plainly writ upon her face. What gentleness she keeps is offered to others sparsely, and none of it saved for the youngest of her kin. Nalice is not forgiving; Wrathion had done naught to earn it, regardless. "It shows just how arrogant he was from the start."

"Still is, to think he has a right to our legacy. Wrathion doesn't know anything about the flight he supposedly wishes to lead, past or present. How could he, when his first great act was to try and have all of us killed, using our blood to fashion gifts for mortals?" Personal resentment is scarcely concealed. It is no secret she, too, had been one of his targets — that her blood had been used to strengthen some rogue's daggers.

The years had done naught to prove him better than that. "He's a boy, too drunk on a sense of self-importance due to being made special by the red dragonflight's meddling to notice he is no better than any of the others. He's desperate for the approval of mortals and other flights, because he has yet to learn the lesson all of our kin eventually learned: no one else cares, with good reason or without."

There is less rage than disdain when she speaks again, arms crossed. "His attempts to prove himself will not make Alexstrasza love him better, nor will they make mortals more tolerant. He'll pay for his pride yet." Not a threat, even though she speaks with all certainty. In the end, Wrathion is not that different from the rest of them — arrogant, proud, and more prone to destroy than to build, even when it hurt those he wished to keep close.