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Post by fidelli on Mar 17, 2009 16:46:44 GMT -5
Name:
A'mor
Gender:
Male
Age:
Born in the summer of the 164th Turn,
34 Turns.
Sexuality:
Bisexual - Leans more towards males.
Location:
Dalibor Weyr
Rank:
Wingrider, Master Dragonhealer, Journeyman Healer
Personality:
A sweetness that is unable to be taken away, a flirtatiousness that is mostly an act, a happy bounce that is nothing but himself, and a wicked tongue that leaves you trying to figure out what just went on is the main things you remember about this man.
He doesn't like standing still, or sitting, loving dancing or just doing something. A'mor isn't big on having huge in-depth conversations, but he likes talking to people mostly because of one huge thing. A'mor loves to laugh, and loves to see people confused. With a wicked sense of humor that is his own complete brand, he enjoys talking people in circles and making them crazy with trying to figure out what he said. Not necessarily rhyming and clues, he doesn't just come out and say what he means - it's up to the person to try and figure it out. Often he'll leave behind someone still trying to figure out whether it was a compliment or not - his tongue is sharp and he wields it with a delicate but deadly accurate aim.
In conversation he dominates - he enjoys talking to people and spinning them in circles. He reminds someone of one of those kids who would keep on picking up a small bug and not letting it get to its destination because it's amusing - the spinning befuddlement gives him something of a rush. Conversations are only wordplay. He knows what he's going to say and how to say it - surprisingly, he's much sharper with people than everyone gives him credit for. His main thing is he just doesn't care what people think about him.
A'mor doesn't have any patience at all, with most things. He doesn't like to deal with small things, especially children, but he tries to stay open with his mind and tolerate the small ones - he only tolerates them for short amounts of time, however. He is apt to have small tantrums, not because he doesn't get his way, but because it's something to do. It's physically impossible for him not to be thinking not to be doing something - which is why he went into medicine as a field. Curious, he has the flaw that although he wants to know, he won't stick around to find out what the answer is. Part of the mystery is the fact that it is a mystery - he likes to learn, but it goes back to the patience problem.
A'mor sadly doesn't really like a lot of people. However, he stays neutral - two-faced - not really giving or taking any signs that he will deal with anybody. He has trust issues - you can't trust them, you can't get hurt. He knows far to much than that happy bouncy sweet boy should know, all of the ugly staining reality's of the world. Gossip is one of his favorite things in the world - everyone is human, and he loves seeing what is truth and what is merely rumor. He likes doing things for people without them knowing it - he doesn't do kind things for recognition, but for them. Despite being a two-faced arrogant cocky male, he likes people, and likes to watch them smile. He knows his flare for extravagance helps this too, which is partly why is like that.
Once the man does trust you, however, it's huge. Like many people, he has been hurt and lied to - A'mor just takes it harder than most. Once someone has been close enough to him, he has a reason to trust them, and he does with all his heart. Those few people are what he centers his life around - he doesn't have anything else. If someone is crying in the corner, it's a fifty-fifty whether he walks over and asks if they are alright. He's not big on helping others blatantly, but it depends on his mood and Noyth's.
His sexuality is either or - girls and boys are both one big lump that he mashes together. He doesn't really believe in sexuality, and has more of the idea that you like who you like. To A'mor, it's all about personality. He loves flirting and flings, but forbid if one word is spoken about a real relationship. That's just bad. When in a relationship, he's the real person under the cocky, bouncy, over-sure male. Sweet, not really dominate at all, he is more gay in the fact that he generally takes the role of the female. Flights are a huge way he determines friends. Noyth only rises ever four or five turns, which isn't often. Her flights are often long and hard, and he figures if the dragon is that determined, the rider can't be all that bad. So far, she's only risen three times, and Altith has Caught her every single time.
He hates several things, and makes them very clear. He despises sitting around and doing nothing, and often gets angry at the smallest thing and then three seconds later it's over - unless it's a big thing that he can stay mad for a long time over. He hates people who has to squish his own ideas, and doesn't agree with a lot of people. He hates those people with weak enough personality's that they get addicted to things - F'del being the main exception - and really hates eating his vegetables.
He claims not to have soft spots - those would be his little sister, Noyth, F'del, Altith, his `lizards, dragons in general, people with messed up families.
His sister is someone who he would die for, and he loves her more than life itself. Noyth is his world. Without her, he would be nothing. F'del is his best friend - more than a relationship, he's his brother. Sper is that kid brother he never had, and his sister's life. Altith is that really cool, slightly annoying cousin that he enjoys getting into trouble with, and the `lizards are their accomplices. Those are his kids, and they all make up all the family he needs.
Healing is a huge part of what he does - smart and confident, he loves dragons and has no qualms about helping them. They are his life - without them, he isn't sure what he would do. Healing is what he does to calm down, what he does when he needs to do something - and the little girl with the firelizard that comes up crying, he likes being able to help.
Appearance:
Slim, rather a slip of a person, it has taken years of riding to work the muscle that he has. A'mor is proud of the fact that he does ripple when he walks, a lean corded muscle built from a life of not moving. His shoulders aren't really wide, and most of him is just slim ropey muscle. He doesn't really mind what he looks like - he has a habit of being careful with his appearance, but unlike some girls and guys he doesn't mind it. He is tall, but not extremely - just enough that he has the height over most girls, and is a little shorter than most guys. He prefers it that way - he likes his girls short, and his guys tall. He isn't strong enough to knock someone out, but has speed and endurance from years as a runner and as a boater on the rivers. His face is blade thin, from a prow-like nose to cheekbones so sharp you can imagine yourself cutting your hand if you run over the high delicate bone.
His hair is a wavy windswept wheat gold color, the rippling between stained dark and sunshine that falls to about mid-ear, covering ears that have just a little more point to the tip than the norm. His eyes are a blue, dark sapphire, rather dark navy with silver sparks and a shadows of gray and black rimming the iris. He has narrow, long-fingered hands, and can pass as barely twenty when he wants to try. His face is tan-ish, but his cheeks always redden more than tan. It's his body that tans, a lovely bronze color that he manages to keep most of the year round.
A'mor loves extravagant things, and part of that shows on him. He walks into the room, he makes damned sure that everyone knows it. Whether it's singing as he walks in, or purposely dropping something, he is there. F'del can't figure out why - after he get's their attention he generally ignores it. But that's the way that he is, so there. When he walks he has a prowling, hungry gait much like a predator that is going to attack. Its a rangy, attention drawing and warning glide that is noiseless and is reminiscent from his days as a hunter in the jungles on the southern continent.
Family:
Father - A'nim
Mother - Alinatamora
Brothers - Uknown
Sisters - Anima, 17
Unknown
Foster Mother - Lialty
Foster Father - Pilat
Pets:
Orange Lady ;; 5 Turns
Sweet to A'mor, loves F'del, but really is haughty and annoyed with the rest of the people and firelizards, hates dragons, vain and proud and not really that bright. She is slim and almost obnoxiously orange, loves looking at herself in water.
Green Bubbly ;; 10 Turns
She's devoted to A'mor, who she constantly clings to, she's the stupidest thing you have ever met in your life but happy. She's not annoying, is really quiet for a flitt.
Dark green, she loves human food and is a little chubby for a dragon. She doesn't like to fly very often, but she rises often, and she likes flirting. Loves, loves bubbly pie.
Blue Fellis ;; 14 Turns
Thinks he's a dragon, and just as big as the rest of them, he's bright and inquisitive, very smart for a lizard and sensible. Does the chores like taking messages to people, loves being petted and admired, doesn't really mind anything or anybody.
Solid and slightly stocky, he has a beautiful sapphire hide.
History: 'A'nim, you have a son.' In Benden Hold, Alinatamora spoke to the male quietly, holding the hand of a three year old boy. The Ironrider looked down at the boy briefly, and nodded. 'Fine.' That was the first interaction a happy bouncy boy had with his father, and his mother only shook her head and sent him out the door to play down by the river. She had far to much to do in the kitchens than deal with him. Arenamor, or Aren, didn't see his mother often - she was just a random figure that he saw when summoned, and that wasn't often.
No, the lad grew wild, taught by whoever snatched him that day in the ever busy Benden hold. His favorite place in the world was down by the river - there, when he could escape, he swam in the currents and amused himself with tumbling about, handstands and flips. The river was his home, and it wasn't long before he found the docks - on the narrow river that bled into the much thicker one that Benden Hold was located on, they had to have a way to transport things to their Weyr. That was the river.
He found the docks, and quickly made several friends - boys his own age of seven or so, who walked around wearing mainly a pair of easily dried breeches and a shirt easily stripped off. It was with them that he found his best friend, Lip. Lip had a huge family, but they were a family - a squabbling pack of kids who loved and taunted each other, looked over by a patient mother who had no problem adopting him into her harem. Their father was one of the Boatmasters, a jolly man who delighted in teaching his children the way of the river. It was here that he found a family, something that he otherwise might never had gotten.
At ten years old, he and Lip had gotten into their fair scraps of trouble. They had learned to boat the entire river, and they knew every eddy and line. Each had their own small boat, slim light boats that were hardy and well polished, and they spent their days in these, out on the river and the small islands that populated it. They hunted for their own food, and learned to be pretty good foragers - thank goodness for Lip's mother who packed them meals until they learned how to cook it. It was a good life, and one that kept the excited boy good.
Than an Ironrider came to visit. His mother summoned him - this in itself was unusual. The visits between mother and son had gradually increased - he hadn't seen her in at least a little more than a turn. The visit was an odd one to - she grabbed him, stripped him, dunked him in water and proceeded to wash him until he was pink and tingly. His hair was cut - Lialty, Lip's mother, had thankfully trimmed the boys hair once every few months for it was easy to keep it out of their eyes when on the river. This woman - he refused to think of her as a mother - dressed him in nicer clothes, and then made him stand there, shuffling in bare feet - he had lost his shoes again - when A'nim walked into the small weyr. 'Alina. Is that the boy?' His mother, a hardfaced woman, nodded curtly. 'Aye, that's him. Arenamor.' The man looked him over once, and then snorted. 'Fine. Leave.'
Aren stood looking at his father, not quite sure what to expect. The man looked nothing like the person he had placed in the father figure - this was broad shouldered and large, while Pilat was slimmer, and not as harsh. 'Arenamor. You have a half a turn - then you will apprentice in the healing hall. You'll stay there until we come to collect you. You'll Stand at the next clutch Blath sires.' And then the man walked out - and Aren rebelled instantly.
Gifted with a beautiful voice and a quick memory for stories, he was approached about joining the Harperhall, and his adopted-family gave him all the encouragement he could need - but the offer receded suddenly. It turned out, his father had stopped them from taking him, but he didn't learn this until later. He had jumped at this, anything to get away from the Healing Hall, but it wasn't to be.
Left back to his own real family, he swore that he would never be a rider or a healer. He would follow Pilat into the trade, and boat the river. Shoving A'nim out of his mind, the boy lived the next half a turn planning on running away with Lip - until a few sevendays early something awful happened. It turned out lots of things were happening he didn't understand.
A'nim caught him. He and Lip had been polishing their boats for a last time and planning their escape, when a huge shape fell from the sky and firmly pinned him - crushing his boat. With a yelp, he looked into the gently whirling eye of Blath - his father's dragon. He was dragged to the Healer's Hall, and shoved in there - rebelling almost instantly. He was watched closely, and they found him to be smart, with a knack for it. However, he didn't work well with people, and didn't learn unless tricked - so the master's finally shunted him aside with Masterhealer Taric. He was a dragonhealer, with a smaller group of second-turn apprentices. The man was kind, and understanding - and a friend. He stayed there for six turns, learning and writing daily letters to Lip - but determined never to Impress a dragon.
Of course, A'nim showed up and snatched him - the Hatching was about to start.
Dropped into the hot sands, he growled as rolled on her shoulder to avoid jarring his knees. The hum that had resonated through the weyr was growing, and the candidate's were rushing in - he himself was wearing the robe over his breeches and shirt. He wouldn't get a dragon! He would go back to the Healers - he had listened to his father in that aspect! Let him go back! Faranth curse it! A shriek, suddenly, and he started, swinging his eyes over to the sands. Not ever candidate was there - the tiers were only half-full, and the stands were barely touched, but that didn't stop the tiny dragon from hatching and determinedly making her way over to where their were boys filling behind him. She - he just knew she was a girl - was daintily picking her way over, trying not to trip over her wings... And she stopped infront of him. The little bedraggled creature rubbed herself against him, and a rainbow of color broke free in his mind as he stared open-mouthed at her.
Let us find our way. How could he argue with this? Why hadn't he wanted a dragon before? She was tiny enough... They could leave, and go back to the hall! "Where are we going?" He asked her, curiously, and the little creature stared up at him. Well that depends on where you want to get to. This was his chance! "It really doesn't matter, as long as-" But she interrupted him, speaking in that weird way that he could hear her, but not... Then it really doesn't matter which way you go, Okay... Well, he at least had to know what her name was... Or did he name her? "Then how about you tell me who you are while we stand here?" A firm disapproval radiated from her, and he realized that she did have a name - though how she had told him that, he wasn't really sure. "Fine. But I don't know who you are." She seemed to enjoy playing tricks on him, for the next words out of her mouth were Who are you? Recite. Shocked at the quick and officious way she demanded his name, he told her "Arenamor." Stop. That is not spoken correctly. It goes: A'mor. He blinked at her again, and then grinned, slowly. "Well, I must say, I've never heard it that way before." I know. I have improoooved it.
Thus, he bonded Noyth. It wasn't until later did he finally convince her to tell him what she wanted to be called, and then she seemed slightly disappointed that he hadn't known. She forgave him, somehow, and he settled into Weyr life. It had been a shock to him that she was a person - raised around a weyr, he hadn't realized how smart they really were. It had also been another shock that they had to stay in a Weyr. Every dragon was in a Weyr, and that was just the way that it was. Weyrling lessons were a pain, because although he loved learning, he got bored easily. It took Noyth keeping him in mind to stay with the lessons, and only the promise that when he was a Senior Weyrling he would be allowed to continue study under the Dragonhealer positioned at Benden.
They stayed in Benden Weyr for two years, and as soon as they were allowed he transferred. Being under the arrogant Ironrider grated him, and without Noyth he would have ended up going nuts.
They Transferred to Southern Weyr - near rivers, but near enough that he could blink Between to Lip and the others in the Hold, and with a Masterdragonhealer he could continue to study from. He visited often, whenever he could get away, and it became a common occurrence for the people of the Hold to see Noyth sunning herself and ignoring everyone, or swimming with Her's and Her's friend. They stayed friends, him and Lip, and his adopted family welcomed him back with open arms.
Noyth rose. And a Purple caught her. That one was interesting.
He woke up slowly, nestled against someones back and lazily intertwined. It was a shock, but the broad hand draped over his belly was warm and comforting - so after checking on the sleeping Noyth, he fell back asleep. He woke up sometime later to soft whimpers - aww, he was having puppy dreams! Untangling himself softly, A'mor took a bath, and came back out - to be assaulted by a Purple dragon. Altith, as it turned out, was funny and much like himself. Noyth, pleased Her's liked her choice, only stretched out farther and continued sunning. Altith and he talked for a while, and in the end A'mor ended up going and getting the still sleeping man's clothes. If his dragon was this much fun, maybe he needed a real friend in the Weyr... And maybe he could be it.
It was a match made in heaven. A'mor was loud, boisterous, but quick to flare and snap. F'del was calm, happy, but as smooth as a clear lake and nothing really snapped him. Their friendship was a long and happy one, and although he kept visiting his old home, he found that it was not as often as it once was. He felt bad, of course, but Lip had a family he was starting, and his foster mother only hugged him gently when he apologized for not seeing her enough. 'I am a mother, and I understand when my children have their own lives. Just don't be a stranger to much - it's alright.'
Noyth laid her little egg, and it gave him a chance to become much closer to F'del. They were brother's more than anything, although a kiss was never something he turned down. It was during this time he recieved Fellis - F'del got him a little flitt egg, and it hatched the pretty blue. The Hatching came and went, and Lip's young daughter, barely twelve turns, walked away in a surprise hatching with Pink Alyenth. He walked the tables to Journeyman when he was nineteen, and nothing happened for several turns after that. Sper came to live with F'del, and he found himself an uncle - helping to raise a child was hard. He received Bubbly and Lady after flights - F'del always bought him a flit egg.
Then his own disaster struck, when he was 23 turns.
"Noyth, my dearheart. Let's go visit Lip?" The Gray stretched and yawned, but agreed, and a few minutes later they burst from between. Lip was at the lake next to the kitchen, patiently teaching his youngest son - Sper's age, he reckoned, almost 11 - to dive. Noyth had gone to sun herself, so A'mor helped with the teaching - and played around in the tiny slim craft that Lip kept for him. It was just as he had slipped it over and was working on spinning it back up that Noyth spoke to him. Blath comes. He fell back in the water, to Lip and his son's laughter. Dazed and confused - was his father looking for him again? - he struggled up on shore just as an aging woman lead a squirming, shouting young girl from the kitchens. He recognized the girl - a tawny blond girl, a slip of a thing at maybe eight, who had been happily diving in and out of the water and playing with Lip's pack of boys.
His adopted brother slipped out the water and stood next to him, watching with A'mor, a frown on his face. A'mor, meanwhile, was standing gape jawed. That was his mother! She had aged, and time had not been good to her, but she was dragging this girl out to a striding figure coming closer... His father? Lip, from next to him, spoke up. 'That's your sister.' Totally shocked, A'mor turned to the man next to him. "What?" Lip only watched the impending doom, a crease between his eyes. 'I kept meaning to tell you, but I didn't know how to bring it up. She showed up, led by Litoli around three turns ago. I thought she was just another girl, but she looked as bad as you did when I found you - so I fed her, and we kinda adopted her. I found out last turn who her mother was, and guessed from there.' Anger spilled out of him, furious, a hot blinding rage. He knew - knew - what was going on here, and Faranth strike him down if he would let it happen to her. A dead sprint, and he skidded between the two parents just as they met. It was a heavy silence, and A'mor broke it first.
"I'm taking her. You won't make her do anything she doesn't want to, and you" - he shot towards his mother - "won't let her grow up thinking that nobody loves her. She's MY sister, and by Faranth, I won't make her go through what I did." And he scooped up the girl, snarled at the blank look on his father's face and the rage on his mother's, and mounted a bristling Noyth. Quick as a flash, they were between, and Anima was in his life.
Anima become his reason for life. He taught her everything - the passionate little girl joined their small family quickly, and the brother and sister pair were closer than most. He raised her and Sper with F'del and their dragons, and they lived in Southern quite happily - until he was about a few sevendays of getting his Master's. F'del and Altith declared they were transferring to the new Weyr, and Noyth told Her's they were going with them. They were told they needed a reason, so he got his Master's, and transferred there as a Master Dragonhealer.
Dragon Name:
Noyth
Dragon Age:
Winter of 177th Turn, 21 Turns.
Dragon Color:
Female Gray
Dragon Length:
12.5 ft.
Dragon Personality:
Noyth is a quiet dragon, just as quiet as the rest of color if not a little more. She - thanks to her rider - has learned when to speak up, but it isn't often the Gray will voice her opinion. Except, perhaps, with things about Her's. That silly male needs a good direction prodding once in a while, and at times he's fair surprised at the amount she speaks. She loves to lay in the sun and ponder over the smallest things, but she loves being near Her's the most. Noyth doesn't like not being able to see A'mor, though she doesn't often admit it. She doesn't like the fact that A'mor makes friends with everyone, but she would rather be with him than not be with other people, so she makes more acquaintances than she would prefer.
In general, the Gray is quiet, and like her Color does give off the impression of being haughty and aloof. She doesn't think she's better than you or anything - it's just you have to be able to hold your own in a conversation and be smarter than the average dragon. She's highly sensitive to the humaninglings, and makes an excellent search dragon, but she hates talking to them and dealing with them often, especially the sticky younger ones.
She's as bipolar as a cat, with the random changes and curious moods as them. With her own ideas and thoughts, she really doesn't like being ordered about. The female also doesn't have any problem changing what she's feeling. One second she'll be content, and the next she's decided she hates everyone.
She doesn't like many people - have we mentioned that before? She loves the sun more than many things, and loves learning. Stories, Her's has found, are the best way to placate her. She loves learning things, and A'mor is often astounded at the rate in which she picks things up. He finds it useful, for Noyth helped him get his Master's in Dragonhealing when he repeated his notes to her over and over again.
Her's is special to her - the male is one of the only people she'll talk to. Often, he's like a big hatching to her, because he can act just like one. She loves being close to him, loves being able to see him and finds him fascinating. She's cold on the outside, but a smitten sweetness lies very close to her bones that matches the sweetness of A'mor, and allows her to stay completly in love with him.
Other dragon's annoy her, but when she clutches, her babies are more important than any other thing alive. When the egg is under her care, nobody or nothing is allowed near it except for four things; Her's, Altith, Altith's, and Little Her's. The tiny's are forbidden, and Bubbly has a nasty scar on her underside where she ripped her open standing watch over two eggs. Males - she hasn't yet found a dragon partner that she likes enough to keep around, and she hasn't found anyone for Her's. She's convinced she has to find him someone that can help her take care of him - of course, she will always be number one in his book. She has a way of speaking, when she does, slow and never what you want to hear, for she loves to be obscure and never get right down to the point of what she's saying. Often just a smile will remain long after she's gone, her words a confusing jumble of faded purple stripes.
Dragon Appearance:
;;Body Type;;
A distinctly feminine, though not so delicate form, Noyth is slender but not so much as if she had been a bigger dragon. She looks slender because of her size - on a larger scale she would have more of a stocky build to her. She is tiny, but does not lack any strength in the surprisingly firm build. Much like a boulder, she does not so much have the length or height, but still power is in the physique. Her wings, like the rest of her color, are exceptionally large, just barely tucking to her body comfortably. It is her wings that are the main thing about her, anything that draws attention to her otherwise blank body.
;;Coloring;;
Nothing is very catch the eye about this dragon, including her color. A stone, marble. Pretty, one would say, but not without the proper polish and cut. She is an uncut marble, with swirls and slips of different color grays covering her body. No matter how many oiling's A'mor diligently gives her, it stays stone cold and dull. Her color starts dark on top, her spine and top of the head a darker hazy gray that reminds one of the old world of an oil spill soaked into asphalt. It lightens in larges sweeps and slashes to a pale gray on her underbelly, bared neck, and chin, except for the tip of her nose where it goes to almost a silver. Her wings are a uniform solid grayish marble, the lighter membrane only a few shades lighter than that.
;;Movement;;
The gray has a stamina that surprises those around her, and isn't as fast as they expect. Infact, if she tried she could be, but she rarely is asked, so she rarely does. Like a feline drunk on catnip, she has a lazy strolling gate and a smooth flowing way of doing everything, from talking to flying. She sees no point in moving fast, much preferring to think and sun then to do much else.
Dragon History: In Benden Weyr, senior Queen Marth flew to the skies. In light of that, a large clutch of twenty three eggs were laid on the sands, and in a tiny bright pink egg with darker purple bleed in, set in the dead center of the clutch, Noyth decided she didn't want to wait. A shove against the thin walls - she was getting to big for the tiny prison - and another, and another... She broke free, dripping wet and holding her too large wings out by her wides, trying to pick the heavy weight up out of the sands but not strong enough to lift them. Silently she struggled, picking up her paws gently and placing them back down so as not to trip over them as she fought to make her way to the white robed candidates.
Let us find our way. Her's, the silly creature, only stared at her with open-mouthed astonishment, but managed to ask, "Where are we going?" Well that depends on where you want to get to. He shrugged, murmuring, "It really doesn't matter, as long as-" Then it really doesn't matter which way you go, she told him matter of factually, and he raised a slim eyebrow at her. "Then how about you tell me who you are while we stand here?" She only settled down on, sitting on her haunches and waiting. "Fine. But I don't know who you are." The tiny Gray, no bigger than a large canine, only murmured, Who are you? Recite. Her's blinked, and then said, "Arenamor." Stop. That is not spoken correctly. It goes: A'mor. "Well, I must say, I've never heard it that way before." I know. I have improoooved it.
And that is how she picked Her's. He was young, but she loved him anyway. Weyring lessons were a breeze - she was quick to learn and she found that the rest of her class bored her. It wasn't until they graduated and Her's began to focus more closely on walking the tables in Dragonhealing did she and him find what they were best at. Together, he managed to walk the tables at 21, a Journeyman Dragonhealer. Nothing really happened to the small Gray for a turn after that - she made a few friends, such as the younger Altith, and she finally grew testy and loud - something Her's had never seen. She Flew the next day, and Altith Caught her - Her's had a new playmate, and life was good.
Noyth laid one egg, and jealously guarded her baby until Pink Alyenth hatched. She and Altith stayed friends, Her's and F'del also, and they lived life. Nothing really big happened for several turns after that until Little Her's came to live with them. Children are not necessarily her friend, but Her's loved the little girl so she extended the same love to her. Altith and F'del had a little boy come and stay with them, and the two kids grew up with Her's, F'del, Altith, and her as their parents.
She and Altith decided that Her's and His needed a new scene, and because Her's would never go anywhere without F'del, they moved to Dalibor. Her's finally passed his Master's, and they were getting switched as Dragonhealers with Little Her's. |
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