Diamond in the Rough Bronze Wrencath
| Diamond in the Rough Bronze Wrencath | |
|---|---|
| Impressee | S'kris |
| Hatching Date: | 26 January, 2006 |
| Dam: | Chunky Polished Gold Faldaverth |
| Sire: | Sarevith |
| Lineage: | Here |
| Clutch: | Clutch:11 |
Hatchling Desc
The word plump may come readily to mind, or perhaps robust, when this hatchling is first seen. Broad of shoulder and jowl alike, all his limbs are filled out well, rounded with apparent 'baby fat'. As he moves, his belly jostles a bit, creating a wallowing trail to mark his passage across the hatching sands. While not being long of length likely helps explain his chunky nature, he strikes a close resemblance to his dam, so perhaps he will retain his sizeable presence as she has. Beyond his swaying gullet, there is a promising grace, or at least a lack of clumsiness as might be thought from his girth. The way his wings sweep and catch light like sugar crystal candy leaves no doubt of his proud Fortian heritage. His colors are surprisingly sensuous given his jovial demeanor, a rich blend of warm and inviting bronzes. From the dark honeysuckle coloring of his wings to the syrupy drizzle of light and dark across his shoulders, there is little of him that is not mottled with color. A rich pear-bronze sweeps along his underbelly spotted here and there with chunks of gold, as if someone had nibbled said pear. His legs and sides are lighter still, the color reminiscent of fresh baked bread dusted with fresh green herbs. His head cannot be left out for it is a lovely chubby cheeked dish shape, like a cup of tea caught in sunlight setting the dancing leaves of tea alight in their warm bronze bath.
Public Impression Message
Diamond in the Rough Bronze Hatchling stumbles, falling forward and resting in a heap, quivering and shaking with a startled fear strong enough to blur the honeysuckle bronze along his wings. Drawing himself upward and casting off any vestiges of embarrassment, he blindly runs into a batch of candidates, creeling loudly in their wake as they scatter. Can't they tell he just wants to be loved? Is desperate to be loved? A shock of long, tied-back dark hair catches his eyes, and he parades, underbelly wobbling all the way, toward the one who stands out in his mind as perhaps as different as he. Collapsing with exhaustion at the feet of a tall, chisel-featured lad, the bronze dragonet gazes adoringly upward at his choice.
| Clutch 11 | |
|---|---|
| |
