%r%tHe might have been carved from blue-sheened stone, if only he'd hold still: a dragon with a broad-shouldered physique, all of him strongly built but for the long and slender tail that likes to move just as much as do his coppery claws. His eyes, too, are quick and splendid, if so deeply shadowed beneath his brows as to be difficult to tell their hue upon a passing glance; the otherwise grayed blue of his hide carries something of their sheen when the light strikes him just so, a fine-grained, indicolite flash. Though his body has a polished air, the irregular ridges down his short, strong neck are darker and rougher, as though from naturally broken stone - while his immense wings carry a gritty sort of opulence, labradorite that shimmers with twin eyes of yellowed bronze upon opalescent teal, like an insect's predator-deceiving disguise.
Sunlight brings out the golden highlights of this fine-boned green, dreamy-light as summertime's wind-whispered leaves: gilt accenting her long, narrow face, the curious tilt of her headknobs and the soft skin of her muzzle, the distracting whimsy of irregularly-spaced neckridges all the way down to the final quirk of her tail. Moonlight, though, there she's all blued shadows, from the swift pulse at her throat and down through her belly only to rise into the softer curve of her flanks. Always, though, always there are the large, opal-gleaming eyes, so frequently single-lidded, and her thin-sparred, insubstantial-seeming veil of wings that seem attuned to the lightest kiss of breeze.
Even her muzzle is long and lean, clad in the dark, unreflective green of a winter's forest; she's a lithe dragonet with a single lustrous racing stripe down each side, a paler, glossy hue that underscores her sudden, strong movements and the racer's slant of her thin-boned physique. Further ripples, as glossy but less pale, flow down her wingsails, closer and closer together as they reach their trailing edges. Sharply defined neckridges are wholly dark again, the same onyx as her perennially-chipped claws, spaced in a way that seems less irregular than a pattern as yet undiscerned. Within all that darkness, her eyes glow that much more, holding nothing of artifice and everything of fearless, no-holds-barred conviction.
He's all warm, mutable browns, this mid-sized and sturdy dragon-- at once fire-licked and liquid, like the orange glow of a setting sun over a dark, never-still sea. Ripples along his back and sides emphasize the breadth of his shoulders; as they continue down his chest, the orange tints grow hazier and the true browns starker, deepening further and further down his legs. By contrast, the ripples lighten as they rise, his wings and even his neck, right through the small bubbles that ring the base of his throat with odd, obscure symbols. His face is comparatively plain, with no markings to make him stand out amidst other dragons, though the set of his eyes affords him a determined look that jibes with the straightforward vigor of his muscular limbs.
She's just a little thing, this young queen, with a narrow, tapering face utterly overshadowed by wide-spaced eyes; they lend her a look of natural innocence only amplified by the demure and careful way in which she holds herself. Pale, antique gold drapes itself down the length of her childishly round torso, capturing each curve as if carefully tailored. It pools, richer and darker, beneath the curve of her belly, and shades gradually lighter towards the fine-wrought tip of her tail. Her wingsails give the impression of being as fragile as lace, their ivory-gold lengths inclined to drape about her body like a mantle, framed by pinions tipped in pearlescent pallor.
Pale green is scuffed and scarred with darker drab, though few of her scars actually mar that thick hide. She's not a dainty creature, this green, but she's made of pleasant enough proportions. She's heavier through the shoulders, neck and tail than many of her fellows, but longer, too. Her talons are a muted buckskin, light enough to hint at the green ichor of their quicks where they're widest toward her substantial paws. Her sails are solid in structure more than color, the green a fading, uneven gradient from deeply saturated to much less so.
By all appearances, this bronze is the definition of average. His hide is an unremarkable shade, his proportions neither large nor small. There's something kind about him, though, a gentleness in his countenance. Perhaps the most noteworthy thing about him is the dark scars of an old injury over his left wingbones and sails.
Brilliance glistens in the expansive sails of this pale and diminutive queen, stretched like sunlight caught in the web of her narrow wingspars. Exceptionally large eyes are lined with sweeps of rich ochre and set deep beneath finely-built eyeridges, gracing a broad head of wheaten gold crowned by curved headknobs scattered with dewy droplets. Ridges of cream filigree arise like flower petals from a sinuous neck which expresses, far more than does her enigmatic face, her moods and opinions with its arches and twists. A slender but powerful tail is similarly articulate, its tarnished-copper tip the only dark part of her aside from those shadowed eyes lashing whiplike with curiosity or upset. Despite the gangly awkwardness her long, sinewy limbs currently present, she moves with an icy determination that promises, in maturity, a certain statuesque grace.
Thin and angular, the contours of this bronze are marked distinctively by the outjuts of sharp bones and the pull of ruddy hide over untried and soft muscles. Cinnamon and ginger darken in the shadows caused by his distinctive physical structure into burnt molasses, coiling up along haunches in a struggle with his predominately softer shade towards wing spars that stretch out wide from his shoulders. A sheath of crimson streaked opulence, much like the finery of a lord, hangs like a curtain of an intricately woven fabric from the gilt-frame of his spars to extend the illusion of a shroud of beauty over his general long-limbed gracelessness. The crooked hump along his snout provides the superciliously curve from over which lazy-lidded eyes seem to view the world around him with the unsubtle arrogance of privilege of birth that sets the arch of his neck high and proud, while leisure and lackadaisical near-slumber gathers around his limbs and non-expressive tail, creating a dichotomy of personality within even the stillness of his lengthy frame.
Please type: &DDESC [name(me)]=<description> in order to set my desc!
Ineuth could seem a smooth dragon -- at first. There's his physique, innately streamlined, approaching athletic as training builds muscle and knowhow; there's his coloring, predominantly the greyed browns of driftwood, further darkened in rippled swaths down his long and narrow wings; there's the way he moves, full of mostly-focused energy ... in a way that makes his glitches that much more noticeable when they do appear. The irregularities don't end there, though these reflect idiosyncrasies rather than issues: dark-cresting neckridges seem pitted along their trailing edges, expanding into patches of bark-like mottling along his flanks and the tip of his tail, while deliberative, heavy-lidded eyes rarely stay solely with one hue. As for his paws, they're also speckled but paler this time, even granular, as though he's always walking on shifting sands.
No greater irony hath the brilliance of beauty, the solidity of stature: such glorious garb for a cantankerous creature! Well-formed, the shape of broad paws, length of curving neck and stretching of voluminous sails; a middling-sized brown, this one, and handsomely equipped with clean, strong lines of muscle and frame. Features fit form, a broad forehead with strong headknobs sloping through strong jaw to narrow muzzle. His hide - oh his hide! - stretches brilliant, shades of rich chocolate occluding a dappled-golden base, darker at all the points: paws and spars, tips of tail and neckridges. Turns out beauty isn't in the eye of the beholder, after all, but within the beholden; a cynic's cast lies over the curve of multifaceted gaze, a curmudgeon's soul within.
He's got a battered frame to him, long and lean if heavy with muscle through the shoulders that support massive wings, sheathed in a leathery brown the color of aged chestnut shells. Those wings reach longer than they rightly should, but seem less so when he has them furled, a matter of efficient folding of thin, opaque-seeming sails. He's seen Thread, and it's scarred him a couple of times, along his left shoulder and diagonally down his sharp-ridged tail: old wounds, that don't impair his mobility except at the end of a particularly long, cold day. Though the dragon's talons have a metallic glint to them, they smack of iron rather than anything softer or more malleable.
An unfathomable number of tiny stars make up Oswinth's hide, coalescing in glittering clouds of icy particles, growing sparse in vacuous midnight, all connected by a fine web of electric filaments. It means that, from a distance, his color is richly mottled. His forehead seems pale, enhancing the wide, youthful face he should have grown out of long ago. Arctic hues light the apex of each sharp neckridge, encase his fragile spars and collect along his soft belly. The dark of empty space wars with natural shadows, obscuring what little definition there may be in his tender muscle. He is small and slim, spindly in build with bones prominent. Even his wings show exaggerated angles and between his frosty spars, the web of electric blue grows more dominant, forming its own visible pattern like a glowing map.
Average in length but slender in build, this brilliantly emerald-green dragon is built for speed. She's all lean muscle and swoopy curves-- the lamborghini of dragons, as it were. There's not an ounce of spare flesh to be found, nor is muscle save those used for flight overly bulked. It gives her a predatory look, moreso than most, especially in her narrowly angled eyes and swept-back headknobs. Her wings are particularly scalloped, narrower in some places and almost too-full in others, and mottled over with a camoflauge pattern of darker green. There's some impressive scarring on her right shoulder joint, reaching down her arm and over into the fabric of her wingsail.
Pretty as a picture, painted pale and in ethereal shades, this dainty green is airy and light in both colour and movement. The slender curve of her delicate muzzle sweeps up to a porcelain-pale brow, while the arch of her eyeridges are marked with a slate-like grey, darker than the rest of her pallid form. Pearly 'ridges adorn her slender neck, while filigreed silver is worked across the misty shade of her forequarters - naught but a hint of the shade, seen only when the light flashes right. Down, down the length of her spine to the tip of her serpentine tail, and out, out across the width of her wings to the fragile span of her delicate sails, swirls of icy green cast their glimmering sheen, while a sprinkling of whimsical light - a freckling of pewter - speckles teardrops across her slim haunches.
A soft summer wind rushes through the night, an invisible dancer pushing through the grasslands of the Telgar Plains. The deep green shade of this dragon seems to ripple, patterns traced across endless fields. Great waves of grass blades, greyish green under the faint starlight of a night sky, weave across her sides, billowing over her flanks where the midnight depths are exposed in a sudden downdraft. Whirlwinds trace ebony spirals over her fragile seeming wings, as the impatient gusts scour over her, lighter green chasing beside where grass lies flattened. Her legs deepen to earthy darkness, plunged into Pern's rich loam to serve as an anchor whenever she is on the ground. The rise of her proud and graceful neck is unyielding to the whimsical fancy of the night's wind. Racing up the strong arch towards her head of nocturnal green, gusts of wind chase wild patters in grassy fields before leaping skyward yet again. Lit by Belior's silver light, her neckridges gleam with seed tufts coaxed into a complex dance by the tantalizing breeze, to be teased into a fury of liquid light over the crests of her eye ridges.
Slim and slender, this elegant green, a sweet face saving grace of wicked-sharp talon and teeth. Emerald viewed by moonlight, the color of her hide: even, uniform, from tip to tail, striated only at the joint of legs and crease of neck, barred darker at tips of sleek neckridges. Lean muscle compiles with whipcord length to forever imply a youthful physique, compounded by the unwonted delicacy of fine-boned face. Silvered wingsails show a touch of cobalt, dusk settled among the expanse of skyflung wings.
A clandestine air suffuses the lithe frame of this petite green, akin to a stealthy silence of a wolf on the hunt. Rainbows shimmer across the expanse of her wingsails, in response to feather-touches of light on delicate membranes. Tendrils of dusky white wend their way over the leading edge of her wings like the touch of powdered snow, to merge -- to shatter -- with whorls of malachite racing down the length of her spine, spinning out of control as they hit the end of her tail. Clouds of a powdery spring-green are the backdrop for a strange marking emblazoned upon her front: a dark viresence tattoos itself in a three-pointed design, stark against the pale greens behind it. Talons of goldenrod flex from their casings of verdance, causing the overtones of iced alice-blue to writhe with the movement.
The dusty olive of a fitted wool coat shapes this lithe green, and while she may never entirely fill out her lean, powerhouse physique, a different sort of maturity refines the angles of her narrow face. Large eyes, their facets keenly whittled and their color uncommonly intense, convey strong emotions and the sense of hidden schemes. Down the far-reaching curve of her neck and across sculpted shoulders and haunches, the patina of densely woven gray-heathered green alternates with twists of brighter burnish, while shadows dark as charcoal gather about her joints. Long-sparred wings, nearly as dark and appearing too delicate to enable flight, reveal an undercurrent of ropy resilience through sails that have the fine, faded sheen of a silvery sisal lining. A nonchalant strength slides fluidly through her rangy frame, sporadically visible in the ripple of muscular movement and especially in the swish of her elegantly long tail.
She's dark and light and the tumult in between, and when she's dark, she's ''dark'' indeed: an impetuous queen of solar flares and a roiling, scorched-dark sea. It's her leading edges that are bright, of nose and ridges and wings alike: bright as her eyes, except when those are dark, colors made manifest as night. They glitter, too, those eyes: with interest and with imagination, suiting a build that's long and lean, less for agility or endurance than flagrant, soaring flight. Those vast wings call out to be spread, copper-gold the more dramatic for dark spars' frame; light and dark writhe united, not a single fingerwidth the same.
He's a gaunt hound of a dragon, a collection of bones animated by a hunter's cheerful, relentless spirit, his joints bulging beneath hide of a wan and green-washed bronze. So pale is he that his eyes stand out in stark relief, bright within deep sockets the burning red of embers, and his big paws seem eternally smirched with a darker, ashen mottling. No other markings does he have, however, not on the blunt head that balances, barely, on a short neck, nor the barrel chest that diminishes to frankly skinny haunches, not even his whippy, wriggly tail. If the thin sails of his sharp-sparred and very aerodynamic wings seem a little greener, it's only because ichor beats so very close and ready beneath the skin, their very vulnerability also their strength.
Though large and shadowed with the hard, dark hues of frozen ground, this brown maneuvers his rangy build with premeditated precision. His square jaw is grizzled paler than the rest of him, as though encrusted with ice, while eyeridges the color of dirty snow shade his piercing eyes. Headknobs, neckridges, the spars of his wings--each of these is rimed with frost, winter's hoary touch melting as it seeps down a long neck and lean shoulders, a cascade of slush that peters out along his chest. There, bands of color gradually darken as they encircle him, on the way to muddy paws and bone-pale talons, cruelly hooked and flecked with clay. Little of his length has escaped the rising mire that clings to him, outlines every muscle of his flanks and striated tail, until their deep tobacco-brown color is murky and damp. Even the charred chestnut sails of his wings, unfurling high above his back, do not escape the muck: they, too, are splattered with the stains of earth.
Surely only well-worked clay could be as smooth and supple as the curves into which pale Kaditseth shapes herself, nary a straight line anywhere to be found. Her soft celadon green enhances such composure, further gentling the athletic contours of her body, its fine glaze thinning to an even paler hue only where it's drawn out to wide if proportional wings. But she's porcelain, nothing more pliant, small of size but not of stature: possessed of ink-dark eyes no matter what their shade, of ruddy highlights that further refine her neckridges and deepen within her talons, of a tempering that gives her durability and balance. Not one to easily shatter, even her wings rarely reveal the pattern of their ichored veins, and then resemble less fragmented china and more an obscure inscription that must be held to the light to decipher.
Long and well-proportioned, this green might seem sturdy were it not for the angles that make up her frame. Faded carbon sweeps through the chrome green of her hide, leaving deeper strokes of deadly smog in its wake similar to creases and ripples brushed over her form. Her sharp muzzle leads to narrow, hooded eyes that lend her an air of perpetual displeasure, her burnt olive neckridges neat and clean cut. To the left of her spine runs a shadowy, jagged line, beginning midway along her back and running to just shy of the thinning of her tail: an old scar. Slim wingspars match joints so plain to see as to seem almost unprotected, the same smoky haze that smothers her wingsails drifting over the underside of her limbs. Only her large paws and the very tip of her tail permit any trace of light to touch her, glossy opal splashed haphazardly over both. Upon closer inspection, her right forearm is not quite straight, but crooked, as though once broken.
A towering sculpture of a bronze, warm as dawn's light on stone and bright as glinting steel, this dragon holds himself high and straight with unmistakable self-assurance. His face is strong, chiseled, all clean lines and smooth planes with a sturdy, distinguished jaw and sleekly curved headknobs. A wide avenue of ridges advances down his back in monotonous squares until they rush into a crowded series of bumps along his streamlined tail. Tin-cast champagne splashes his trim sides, made all the brighter by irregular streaks that patter his ribs like so much half-rinsed grit. The tall, muscular architecture of his shoulders and haunches and the depth of a broad chest give his otherwise lean build an athletic quality, lending power to long limbs and quick motion. When spread, his enormous wings reveal the length of straight spars that gleam like newly polished metal, their sails holding a mottling of brick and concrete, rendered indistinct by the haze of sunlit smog.
Mellow, burnished leather, like the finely-worked cover of a rare book, sweeps smoothly across this solidly-built dragon's body. The lines of his musculature flow together fluidly, though over an angular, blocky frame that speaks of power and strength rather than sinuous agility. Rounded headknobs gleam with honeyed undertones beneath a wash of dark sienna that curls down along his neck and over shoulders, flecked here and there with minute signs of wear, limned in persimmon. Expressive eyes sit high in his head, overarched by deep brow-ridges, conveying a sense of intense scrutiny even when his gaze is only casual. Long, strong limbs provide him with a sturdy, immovable stance when he is still and sure strides when he's in motion. Wide wings, brushed along the edges with inkiness, fade out into the pallor of an ancient scroll, edges curling slightly as if with age. Across his chest and belly, the regularity of a darker stippling effect creates an impression of abstract characters dancing across a page. Repeated at the join of shoulders these markings sidle along his sides and down to the very tip of his long tail.
All smooth curves and neatly compact frame, this bold young green moves with a fluid grace that makes each step seem deliberate and thought through. Large eyes rimmed with peridot lend her an air of innocence, her ridges like ripples, deceptively soft with their hints of sea foam. Beginning at the tip of her nose, a splash of rich aquamarine slips down across her jaw, twirls down her elegant neck and washes across both flanks, where it filters through moss and bright vale on its journey to the very end of her tail. Slim shoulders promise delicate wings, her wingsails brushed with the shimmer of sunlight shining through rushing water. Well turned-out, subtly sturdy limbs are wrapped in faint fern patterns that grow bolder and more distinct as they lead to granite claws, and lack sharp joints or angles save at the very tip.
There may be a wavering quality to the young teal-green dragon, but only when it comes to her wings, those soft sails that shimmer with hazy blue like light seen through warm tropical waters. All else is bright, from the curious wildness in her large, side-set eyes, to the turquoise iridescence that tips each neckridge only to slide into a green closer to gilt along her tail. Even the darker, curved bars down each cheek and lining her ribs only serve to accent her frame and the way she moves: sleek rather than skinny, sporty rather than delicate, accustomed to abrupt darts punctuated by stillness shorter than an eyeblink.
Though small, a thin and sinuous beast, there's only fire in this brilliant gold, from the tip of a pointed, scorched muzzle to the whipping tail behind her. Her headknobs steal the yatagan's distinctive recurve, swooping over a crooked outcrop of spiky neckridges that look quite inhospitable to riding, their tips seared as though by living sparks. Along her narrow sides, her color may brighten to treasure's true gold, but those ruddy touches show up again on white-hot wingspars and tiny paws that always look like they've been playing in blood. Everything about her is sharpened into daggers, from the lethal array of charcoal talons on every foot to the bony wings edged in ichor-green. With a proud arch to her neck and eyes like embers, she's a fearsome creature, less regal queen than simply awful.
He might seem a carving of sleek, varnished ash wood, but no woodcarver would have built a dragon so wide--he has shoulders like a burdenbeast, limbs that are as big around as the trunks of ancient trees. The muscles are not clearly defined but obviously present, the enormous padded bulk of his body making an average-sized brown seem behemoth. His hide is pale as blond wood, smooth over the blocky body and haunches, only faint striations of lighter and darker colors running through it like woodgrain. Huge, broad wings become more pallid still, their sails lit with silver frost. A slim trail of white curves over the left wing only, as though a long-faded scar from some unknown injury. Whatever trauma he seems to have endured, it also seems to have left him without one of his front teeth on the top, the gap obvious whenever he opens his mouth.
%tSand whips across the hide of this sepia-toned dragon, settling heavily over the clean cut muscles of his long solid figure. He's substantial without being cumbersome; he moves with an unusual amount of deliberate purpose. While his color might be considered bland, it is when the light hits the etchings of his sturdy build that its true brilliance shines. Glints of illumination reflect back like granules speckling his otherwise even hide. Polished limestone lays contrast to the heavy deposits of grit that have collected on the sweeping expanse of his wide wings and the breadth of shoulders and haunches. Bright sunrise glares from his neckridges, precisely placed in a series of sharp crests that stamp their mark along his neck until his head is reached. Bands of dark brown over his eyeridges create the illusion of true brows, balancing the angles of his square jaw, and his slanted eyes are rimmed with near-black to lend an exotic air to his determined gaze.
%tLean and sinewed, every detail speaks of a high performance machine built for both strength and speed but expressed in smooth curves of glossy molten green. A skilled craftsman molded her, giving this small, agile dragon an aerodynamic frame beneath an exterior of sumptuous luxury. Emerald streaks sideswipe her finely shaped head and along the angle of keen, tilted eyes. Similar brilliance glistens along the peaks of her small, windswept headknobs and the crest of ridges racing down her sleek neck. At haunch, knee and the arc of her chest, the gleam of her hide brightens from even hunter to perfect mint while low points pick up dramatic shadows, a contast that accentuates every clean line of her elegant form. Her wings arch long and narrow, announcing her agility before she gets in the air, and even in their translucence they carry a glossy depth of color that paints her sails in opulent darkness.
He's a gargoyle of a dragon, blue, brash and bony, with a gritty dark hide that might have been carved from solid granite. Glowering brows are so prominent as to shadow the telltale bright colors of his eyes, and the rest of him is all outcroppings and shadows too, all the way to knobby wings and wiggly, wiry tail. But if sometimes he looks like a big rock, he's also one that legions might have passed by: chipping at his now-irregular neckridges, letting patchy lichens grow along his talons and the underside of his tail, scratching graffiti along his ribs and staining his flanks with yellow. It's a lot of wear and tear for one dragon, and he may yet acquire more, but even now he flaunts those shadow-tattered wingsails with pride.
Slim and washed with dawn's first light, this elegant young gold bears herself with a subtle grace, her gaze steady and step smooth. The twist of roseate hue flares into existence along the strong line of her jaw, sweeping down her long neck and burning brighter until sparks scatter across her thin flanks, collecting around and accentuating the delicate joints of spars and limbs. From those slender spars, the white-gold of her wings is scattered with fiery jewels that cast deep amber shadows in their wake, the very image of a comet-filled sky. Long of angular limb and tail, she moves with purpose, the icy white that touches her talons bright against the molten lava that clings to her large paws.
The most striking features of this small young green are her large, shadow-rimmed eyes that betray a quiet curiosity whether she is active or at rest. Those shadow rings are quite the contrast to the rest of her, her agile honeydew frame touched with the healthy brightness of morning light over the lush savannah. Her nose bears a smudge of darkness, her muzzle angular and neck slim, delicate mossy ridges kissed with summer's brightness. Spars longer than might suit her build are brushed with the soft stripes of marsh reeds, her pale sails light and gauzy; almost see-through in places. Long limbs are a little on the thin side, her talons a dusty grey; the same shade to be found in cloud-like gatherings along the length of her tail.
She wears her lineage for all to see, this pale queen: the long, fine profile of a regal lady matched with a predator's whipcord strength. Pinprick stars in foreign constellations sweep along her slightly darker headknobs and neckridges while the refined planes of her body dance with moonbeams, all the way down to pure white gold at the tips of arakh-curved talons. In contrast to this platinum pallor, there's a rosy glow to her wingsails, dawn seeping down their lengths towards crimson-touched tips that herald a glorious dawn. Though her lines speak to the controlled power she'll wield, there's a daintiness to her demeanour that speaks of poise and pride. She's a queen in every sense of the word: a dragon who expects to be noticed.
Long and serpentine, this washed-out brown has been smoothly drawn from a hooked and beaky nose to an ink-tipped stylus of a tail. More inky-brown spots have stained his paws and talons, though the short strokes that outline each eyeridge and headknob seem more purposeful. The whole of his body has a sheen to it, a semblance of shiny mica and sandglass twinkling along his hollow flanks and long neck: a thin dusting of sand to blot up those last dark spills. At least the shadowy spars of his wings have been swept clear, though their generous sails have caught all the excess in their deep pockets; they sparkle in the light, each movement shifting grains until he seems surrounded in a hazy, eternal mirage.
Great, beautiful plumes of smoke and ash billow and churn upon the lean lines of this brown dragon's hide, dashing gilt whorls upon narrow haunches and spilling red-hot lava down the stuttering heights of his craggy neckridges. Burnished umber washes his hide, darkening in uneasy shadows beneath the curve of his belly, whilst growing steadily lighter as it creeps towards the tip of his whiplike tail. His wings are cloudy, yellow-tinged, reminiscent somehow of noxious gas, and just barely contained by the ashen, icy lengths of his pinions. There's fire to his demeanour, his shoulders held in an almost perpetual position of readiness, while smoky, charcoal etchings beneath his eyes hint at unrestrained passion.
Like a dreamy star-scape, patterned by the imaginative hands of an apprentice starsmith, this angular dragon's hide is bedecked in brilliantly luminous blue. His wings are oversized for the slender form of his torso, built like solar sails destined to carry him far; paler than his body, they have a cloudy, insubstantial quality marshalled carefully by the stark blue-black of his pinions. Across his haunches and belly, his hide gives the impression of being stretched too thin, clinging tightly to each bone, muscles barely hinted at beneath. Dark shadows mark his face above each searching, intelligent eye, giving the impression of over-exaggerated eyebrows - and a certain amount of manic eccentricity that is matched by his frenetic movements.
Narrow, narrow, narrow: this tall, birdlike green dragon has a particularity to her, in her bony build and the frosty pine-needled hide that shivers over it, but even more so in the way she carries her head. She might have never truly left some primordial forest, with the way her paws are mossy-soft, her legs wound about with ghostly lines of ivy and low-lying fern, her pinched haunches smudged darker as though her pine's needles had fallen and are settling slowly, slowly back into the wet earth. Her wingsails might seem delicate, pallid and misty as if they'd catch upon the dark thorns of her spine, as though they were seen from between the more solid branches of their spars... but it's not the sails that drag her down. It's the spars after all, the strong branches that betray her, the final two on her left wing fused into one lumplike bone. Deformity touches her tail as well, but here it's aid rather than impediment: shortened but lively with a scorpion's barbed, backward twist.
This lithe little bronze looks as if he could have slipped away from a shadow, the smooth, flowing lines of his lean body lending the deep, tarnished bronze of his hide opportunities to glimmer and glow with the softness of those gentle curves. The line of his jaw comprises what little sharpness there is to him, long muzzle leading to blunted angles that invoke the head of a spear before they melt away entirely down his slim neck, ridges small and touched with the last brightness of the setting sun. Neat shoulders support slender spars, wingsails dark, a low fire's shimmer swept across the underside of his wings and around his wispy tail. His limbs are short, yet supple, a sturdiness there supported by solid paws and claws smudged with charcoal.
Illumination casts flickering patterns of reflection along the deeply rich, reddish-bronze dragon like fire within glass, an echo of the volatile brilliance in his wide-set eyes. There's a distinct crest to his neck, long and lean like the rest of him; sharply defined ridges' darkness brightens to each jagged, still-molten tip, while onyx talons seem perennially chipped. His glassy wings are nearly as dark, approaching obsidian when sunlight doesn't shine through them, their fine sails chased with even more coppery highlights that glimmer vibrantly from leading edge to trailing tips.
Mahogany brown hide streaked with honeyed rays of sunlight splash over a brown that is more midsection and limbs than anything else, broad chest speaking to potential power and strength. This young dragon seems to have outgrown himself, as a softly rounded appearance diminishes the impact of his bulk from an unassuming face, chubby belly flecked with sunspots and long, solid legs, his small, almost dainty paws sporting thick, white talons. Speckles of dark moss gather in a long dorsal stripe bordered by a froth of lighter sand, drawing the line of his frame and creating angles for the eye to follow. Pale, carbuncle-like neckridges lump along with it, seeming to grow down his length of their own accord rather than as part of his body. Matching a shortish neck, his rudder of a tail is broader than usual even at its forked tip, held off the ground as a feline might for balance. Wings stretch wide but never overtake his large frame, opaque sails a near-black slick of mud mixed with a textured ripple of waves over still water.
A volcanic explosion of turquoise-bright blue sprays out from this dragon's strong shoulders and down the length of his spine before flowing, lava-like, down the obsidian-shadowed valleys of his hide, with nearly-hidden pockets of brightness tucked away in the folds of hide surrounding the joints of his legs. Ash-laden smoke in electric blue plumes out into short, broad, strong wings, leaving him looking just slightly disproportionate when contrasted with the slender, flexible length of his strong tail. Large, alert eyes are wide-set above a short, stubby snout, with a surprisingly handsome effect.
This browny-gold young queen carries clubs with her, wingspars as thick and blunt as her jaw on an even larger scale, ashen like aged bones. She carries treasure with her too: the small and close-set jewels of her eyes, shiny-dark and rapacious and so often joyful; the even more opulent folds of her wingsails, dusty-dark and warm and rich as the shadows of throat and flanks. Within those two extremes she's that smudged, umber gold, her hide clinging to a skeleton that needs to be grown into, short of neck and skinny of haunch with a strong chest in between. But if her neckridges are ragged, and so is her carriage, there's no missing the fine lines of her long, sensual tail, or the wicked promise of ebon-gold talons.
She's a curious creature of filtered light, her greenness many-layered, blurring that sleek body with the deep shades of some wild forest's canopy. Even so, she's not made for hiding: tiny filaments of golden-green sweep above large, personable eyes like minute feathers, and slim, iridescent wings shine closer to cyan in the sunshine and owe nothing to concealment at all. As dragons go, she's small even for her shade, with an elongated tail for clinging and outsized haunches for leaping and always, always those wings for flight.
Ripples spread across the taut hide of this antiqued queen, subtle sunbursts that add a lustrous sheen to her deeply golden hue. Long, lanky-limbed, she's the product of her sire's lineage: not only the lean muscle laid over her bones' thin framework, but an indolent confidence inherent in her bearing. Palely tipped ridges drift up and down her length, whimsically spaced; her wings tilt at leisurely angles that catch both air and light, their sunlight-in-water wingsails stretched between insubstantial spars. It's only her bright eyes that ground her, genetic arrogance tempered by curiosity and a certain, near-constant blue-tempered steadfastness.
Powerfully-built, this young gold is comprised of contrasts, her colouring almost as if she casts her own shadow onto her sinuous form. Her angular jaw and the subtle, all but perpetual tilt to her head lend her an imperious, challenging air, her neck slim and vivid yellow-touched ridges sharp. The brightness of citrus permeates the auroral gold of her hide, yet duller shadows slip down across her chest and claim the lower half of her supple body, warring for dominance with the brilliant buttercup of her long, sturdy limbs, her serpentine tail lent to twisting and coiling. Strong, broad shoulders support white-gold wings, the richer glimmer of a summer sunset swept faintly across sturdy sails in delicate gossamer swirls. Heavy-set paws are finished with dark, earthy claws, dangerously sharp even in youth.
The promise of enormous power is born beneath unpolished brass, muscle built into every inch of this young bronze. For now, his head is a bit too big for his neck and paws too big for his body but there is solid weight to his frame that hints of grandeur. Even in youth, his hindquarters are full of meaty strength, vigor flexed in every fiber beneath the dark cover of shadowy wings. Pronounced eyeridges give a severity to his dauntless gaze glaring out from the dark pits of an angular head so that even the happy green tones of contentment are tainted with an obstinate edge.
Loam and light drape across a shape that is awkward and immature. The majority of his hide is rich as the sediments of a river delta, exemplifying earthiness and the solidness of stone, head knobs and muzzle consisting of an even darker shade of brown. Although this young dragon is contrastingly chubby and angular, his frame is broad enough at the thorax and haunches to suggest that he will grow into something much more muscular. The hues of sandier soil whorl from ridge to ridge, the color graduating to darker tones over the middle of his back and onto a tail that begins thick but ends with whipcord thinness. His limbs tend towards a leanness that contrasts with chest and haunches. Broad wings promise strength, the sails the dusky color of silty water, while his feet are a more shadowy, richer brown than his muzzle, and end in talons that glitter like smoky quartz containing dark inclusions that are probably the quick of the talon.
She's a curiously unnatural green, as yet more stilted than fluid of motion, with large glowing eyes whose colors seem a trifle muddied for all that their whirl is difficult to subdue. All six limbs are longer than they need to be, as are, for that matter, her copper-tipped claws; there's also an odd birthmark along the left side of her neck where it meets her shoulder, as though the otherwise flat, textureless mid-green of her hide had somehow been scraped to something paler. Elsewhere, emphasizing the wiriness of her frame, that solid hue is not subtracted but overwritten: with fine, never-crossing lines of coppery and silvery green. Silvery bars align with the leading edges of her neckridges and make them seem sharper than they are, while tiny, mostly-silver dots interpose between the dramatic coppery scrollwork of her narrow, tapered, still unmastered wings.
Pale, so pale, with hide the colour of a forest canopy reflected on clear water, this lithe green looks decidedly thinner than she should, her awkward frame defined by the murky shadows that her delicate joints call to gather in the hollow curves of her inelegant figure. Thin flanks are mottled with faint whirls of emerald, smudges of which also touch the corners of her large, bright eyes that retain a sense of youthful innocence. Elongated limbs and spars draw her out of proportion, her oversized wings held close so as not to drag by markedly better defined muscles in her broad shoulders. Those wings are finely-crafted and heavier than her fragility suggests she can handle, their lines sharp and the undersides of her sails bathed with a cloudy vapour to match the darker, inky midnight green that marks only the pads of her paws. Her long, slim tail lends her length if not stature, often coiled close to her body.
Hulking, angular, hind-legs dominate an already looming stature, scratched with a coarse brown that peels, as though fetid, rotting into a deep coloring mistakable for black across the back and along a long, ridged tail. High bony ridges define him up to his neck, where they fall away to patchy brown skin that look like scales. Coloring on his chest lightens, this unremarkable brown shade surviving all through his forelegs, up the bottom of his neck, and onto a reddish muzzle. His jaw's as sharp as the rest of him, and his head-knobs little more than tall spikes. That sizable wingspan trends dark, eaten by shadows, his 'sails thick and impenetrable by light. Wicked design seems to have made his back legs larger than his front; huge paws versus those made almost entirely out of curled talons that make resting on the front feet look distinctly uncomfortable.
A relentless restlessness infuses this small, dark green: she's a live wire, radiating energy from the subtle points of her headknobs all the way down to the tip of her lengthy, twitchy tail. She has a feline grace, bundled up into a curvy form and bedecked in the darkest of malachite, which curls mysterious tendrils beneath the glow-lit cave of her belly, and puddles towards the mossy-richness of her dainty feet. Her eyes are especially shadowed, rimmed in a green so dark as to be very nearly black: stark and expressive against the fragile, ethereal lines of her face. Despite her size, there's power in the broad expanse of her pale, striated wings, their sails so adept at carrying her aloft.
Warm, stone-washed indigo coats this little blue in a cloud of hazy, pale colour from nose to tail. Wings are built to cut the air rather than sail upon it, sprouting from slim shoulders and sweeping back over narrow hips before pouring smoothly down into his long, thin-as-rail legs. He is made up of the things of dreams, all smooth, lean lines and the seamless flow of that quiet, subdued color as if magic and not muscle holds him aloft - and indeed, he has a lack of prominent musculature typical of his size. His lack of definition helps that misty, dreamy blue mold uniformly like a coat of fur along the body of a feline, hiding the power within.
There's something sinister in how darkly weathered bronze hide mostly masks the scheming curve of this dragonet's eyeridges, the intimidating spread of his headknobs, the terrible sharpness of his muzzle. Equally insidious gloom veils the wicked grip of his fore-talons, while the others have withstood the same burnishing as his powerful shoulders and hindquarters-- the latter so often draped by tarnished wingsails, that his strength may be surreptitiously shielded by svelte and sinuous grace.
Shadowed, droughty grasslands ripple across this green's rounded flanks, spreading their faded hue across her sturdily-built back and sculpted wings. Beneath the dimpled baby fat, she's most generously called 'big-boned': there's the promise of power to come in the long line of her haunches and the curved line of her graceful neck. Her brindled sage coloration darkens over the mask of her face, highlighting the sleekness of her muzzle and remarkably long headknobs. Lighter shades hold sway over the backs of her wings, sage washing out towards grey as if left in the sun too long-- or perpetually limned in dim, silvery light.
Deepest mahogany ripples over the hide of this powerful brown dragonet, the mottled twists and turns of muddy clay layered with darker shades, creating a random undulating pattern that covers him from blunt nose to over-long tail. Each ridge and headknob is finely sculpted with a hint of upturned whimsy, while his limbs are contrastingly short, solid and ready for action, and his wide wingspan's sails are improbably touched with a deep red glow-- a ruby half-buried in the loamy earth. Bright-eyed, observant and discerning, his heritage is obvious in both the confidence inherent in his bearing and the sinewy muscle that will soon pack his stocky frame.
Surely wrought with strength in mind, the bright bronze's visible imperfections must have been hammered and polished into this semblance of youthful majesty. His stalwart physique is balanced, broad-shouldered without being stocky or overlong, while his hide's lustrous shine alludes to gold. Burnt copper smudges not only the handsome brow that guards a frequently-intense gaze, but also his tall headknobs; it's burnished into cleaner, sharper cuts over the lighter hue of his muzzle, legs and tail. As for his wings, journeys through the air must be made glorious by those iridescent sails, bridging between the impressive span of each dark, formidable spar.
Unsettling, intimidating. These are the words used to describe Ghislaith's form. Her hide takes on the overall tone of dull lichen green, saved from drabness by highlights of bright, nearly glowing chartreuse across her lanky form. Her heavily-lidded eyes give the appearance of being hauntingly observant, sinister even, dark forest moss creeping above them and trailing across her bony neckridges. The sweeping expanse of her too-broad wings expose an underside swath with overlapping fern-like patterns, broken up by pin-points of lighter malachite. Her long dark tail is a shadowy sage, her talons sharp black claws.
As a young teen, S'varis probably looked weedy, but since he's grown up, he's filled out, and now could be considered really quite attractive. Dark, walnut-brown hair curls loosely around his face, which is overfilled with green eyes and a quirked smile. Viondeth is a sandy bronze, long and lean for his colour. %r %rSevaris grew up at High Reaches Weyr, and worked in the lower caverns until his Impression at 18. Quietly ambitious, he was terribly pleased to Impress bronze, and worked hard during weyrlinghood, joining the silver thread program. Early on, he was good friends with former guard F'reln, but that friendship took a turn for the worst after a challenge issued by the pair nearly got him killed (http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Who's_Up_For_The_Challenge?). %r %rAfter graduation, S'varis joined Boreal Wing and was eventually promoted to Wingsecond. It was under his Wingleader's direction that he reached out to Teris, his clutchmate and a childhood acquaintance, in the hopes of drawing her back to replace the two High Reaches 'seniors' in Turn 30. Caught out by Jo and Z'ian, S'varis and his Wingleader lost their positions; he is now in disgrace.
Slick, slender, smooth; a speedster through and through. Gleaming polish buffs the blu cepheus of his hide, metallic bright, every inch of him built for speed - from the aerodynamic slope of his narrow nose to the slimness of his whipcord tail. Lightning-bright argento luna limns the streamlined curve of his spine, striking silver to the tips of his sleek 'ridges and out along the gullwing strength of his cyan-kissed wings. Acapulco darkness lines his undercarriage, road-slicked scuro along the inners of his slender legs, down to the dunkelblau and rubber of his treadmarked paws.
Shadow and smoke, a belletrist's prose; the play of dark on light faded across the timeworn parchment of his hide. A hint of dusty rose colours the tip of his muzzle, while calligrapher's careful strokes daub water-washed ink across his broad head, darkest around his whirling eyes and matched by the arabica of his canted headknobs. Inkspots dapple the length of his neck, faded by time where they dot the silvery canvas of his expansive wings, a poet's whimsy scrawling sable nonsense verse along the louched tips of his sugar-sweetened sails. Heavy, dusky hindquarters lead to a sooty-tipped tail, complemented by the charcoal smudged across his shadowed paws - a smooth contrast to the pale papyrus of his smoke-dappled belly.
%R%tNear-perfection in motion, this dragon sports a dazzling bronze hide that spans the gamut of shades - from coppery-bronze through patinaed gold and into deep bronzed green - depending on the light and the curve of his body. From the tip of his strong, yet chiseled nose, climbing up his head to swirl over regal headknobs, then descending to his strong shoulderblades, the richest hue of newly-minted, coppery bronze dominates his hide-scape, gradually blending into a more traditional coloration that continues uninterrupted upon the rest of his hide. Heavily ridged, wide set eyes seem to exude a sense of ponderous solidity or perhaps thoughtful determination.%R%TA wide girth provides a placeholder for a deep and proud chest that glints when the sun's rays toy with the deep patina upon it, and the sails of enduring wings are home to what appear to be occasional, sluggish whorls of old gold, tarnished copper, and bronzed-green, his pinions built somewhat more for endurance than speed. Sturdy, well-shaped legs dip to the ground, their glistening color enduring through long feet until meeting rather archly-curved claws of weathered, greenish-gold. His sleek flank joins haunches that promise strength and power, thinning into a strong tail that grows lanky as it stretches towards its termination. But wait, what is this: a pronounced kink interrupts the smooth, unblemished flow of bronze perfection only four feet from the crease of tailtips, altering what would have been arrow-straightness into a 150 degree, obtuse angle.%r
The soft brown of canvas wraps over his lanky frame, muted hues of raw sienna sweeping from the tip of his nose down his knobby legs until being gobbled up by the chocolate that paints his paws and the very tip of his forked tail. He is all legs, tail, and wings for now, sails of pale camel framed by wingspars brushed with the same sepia tone that pools in the tender crevases where arms and legs meet belly.
The dragonet's edges, from ridges to wingspars to talons, might have been chipped from stone instead of anything so fragile as glass. A dark grayed brown, it hasn't the ruddy nature of his blockier, boulder-like flanks and shoulders; it shadows speculative eyes and then stairsteps down his lean neck, all the way to the blunter tip of his tail. Along his wingspan, shadowed ferns seem to unfurl between those spars, paler but not pale, greener but not green. His paws are large and even darker than his talons, his very footsteps weighty.
Crow's-plume casts his lumbering form in darkness, pearlised by an oil-like sheen with the faintest shimmer of indigo and teal across the curves of his sturdy physique. Along the inky slope of his muzzle, between those wide eyes and the atramentous 'ridges above them, is a Prussian smudge, fading into the dreamtime whirl that is the dusky darkness of his midnight hide. The stuff of dreams tempers the nightsky canopy of his wings; a whimsical sprinkling of sleep-dust dappling the space between his star-studded sails, turning spars to arenaceous blue-gold, cast along each leading edge to bespeckle the etiolated constellations that mark the inky cosmos of his sides. Three of four paws are marked with the same shade as his nose, while one, the right-fore, bears a flash of light across sooty toes before sinking into ebon talons.
Muted teal smooths this unlikely green dragonet's hide and thick, strong claws, gracing her squarish build with a habit of innocent, simple ease-- if one that's then been ''scoured''. Rusty streaks smear the base of her neck and her broad chest, her blocky limbs and the last half of a long, sinewy tail, as though she had busied herself in rain and sun for Turns unattended; here and there even they flake away, revealing flecks of chartreuse atop her skewed headknobs and along her undercarriage. That brighter green thins and shines between otherwise stocky, rusty wingspars, veins visible within those translucent sails like cracked glass that somehow remains intact. But upward, along those irregular neckridges, that teal green returns: rambling into a wide, yet finely chiseled head that may have another rusty streak down her decidedly convex nose, that may come equipped with a pair of prominent incisors-- but also a pair of bright, inculpable eyes.
She's a luxurious pierrot in feminine form, a dancing dainty cleaved and divvied up in quadrants of contrasting light and dark green. Coy and cavorting, there is expressiveness in the dragon's kohl-ringed eyes, sensational and vivacious from arched neck to slim shoulders and trim haunches: an athlete and entertainer in one, formed of sleek muscles and a sinuous winding tail. Right quadrant from between each headknob is bright apple green, a gradient which shifts into pure polished malachite on the opposite side; narrow wings bear reciprocal shades of pale verses shadow. Within her dramatic hues are stolen treasures of tiny diamonds scattered throughout that motley hide, sparkling glitter to match the edge of talon and teeth.
The appearance of stratified shades of brown flows along already serpentine lines of this dragon's body, the hint of almost golden undertones to his hide. The brightest shades of the golden-brown brushes along a narrow jaw, highlighting the curve of his breast and sweeping under his belly, where the darkest shade traces an overlong neck and sharp ridges, almost charcoal though flakes of that golden color have caught and highlighted even here. The color between evens out into a more proper brown, a rich mahogany that emphasizes every muscle in his lithe frame and in the limbs that seem almost delicate in their thinness. Claws are sharp, black, promising pain to anyone on the wrong side of them, and his wings are almost overlarge in comparison to his body, nearly translucent with odd lines seeming to warp them.
Unnerving is the first word that might spring to mind when regarding this bronze. He's not a pretty dragon in any sense of the word; the line of his body is thin, almost gaunt, angular lines painting him a manner that almost looks skeletal. His bearing is not so much awkward as /different/, and whatever gets his attention gets his whole, undivided look, one expressed less by the whirl of his eye than the brooding, intent spectre of the dragon as a whole. Painted like a thin layer over his skeletal frame, the overall tone of his hide is a dark, tarnished bronze, broken up by patches of black that appear in jagged, slashing gestures along wingsails and his main body. Wickedly sharp talons glitter wetly and shade to ivory white, stark against the dark hue of him.
Power defines every curve of this young, dark queen, her molten gold hide brushed with swathes of rich bronze that ripple across her robust form in wide, generous strokes. She's no delicate creature, her copper-kissed shoulders broad and hindquarters powerful, her shadowy, aged-brass limbs promising a heavy, confident step. A blunt, square-set muzzle leads to a heavy jaw and relatively short neck, her sharp, slim ridges smudged with charcoal that glimmers with hints of sunshine-bright gold. Those broad shoulders of hers support heavy, almost opaque, roseate-bronze sails, their spars a little shorter than one might expect from her size. Her paws are substantial, yet delicate things, tipped with flame-touched claws the same shade that envelops the tip of her lithe tail.
This chrome-dusted blue is a stocky, sturdy example of his colour, though he posesses a certain steady grace despite his build. There are few angles to him, his cornflower blue athletic form robust and faintly curvy, the beginnings of sound muscles already visible in strong limbs supported by generous, cushioned paws. His vast wings are lined with a darker, smokey blue that blends neatly with his oil-smudged hide, but, when unfurled, the opaque, cloudy grey of his wingsails is a stark contrast to his subdued brightness. This same faded shade whirls around the tip of his tail, forming distinct, sharp rings at odd intervals. A brighter, sapphire blue sweeps across his eyes and back towards his neat, slim headkobs, hints of those jewel tones visible in the rust-textured edges of his wings and along his broad shoulders.
Small of stature and so fragile as to look almost skeletal, her petite, golden form is bathed in pale, white-gold from head to toe, the shimmer that dances across her metallic hide lending her a ghostly aura that makes her seem more delicate than she truly is. There is not one scrap of extra weight on her long-limbed form, her shoulders slender, chest narrow and body hollowed between ribcage and flanks. On first glance, she looks to be all that soft, pale-gold without blemish, but, close-up, rosy light curves first in delicate tendrils at the corners of her eyes, then ripples through her tiny ridges and twists along her shoulders. Bright, brassy hues faintly highlight the hollows between her ribs and the joints in her limbs, while a silvery cloud washes across her thin, near see-through wingsails. Her claws are the only darkness to her, black against near white.
On the smaller side for a bronze, this dragon seems full of more than his rightful share of energy; everything he does has a sense of intensity to it, as if it were the most important thing in the world to him at that very moment. His hide has undertones of red and orange that lend it the semblance of fire reflected in polished copper, marred only by the lines of knotted scar tissue raked across his back. He often carries his wings folded against him, as if hoping to conceal this old injury.
At first glance, this dragon does not seem at all remarkable--that is, for a dragon. He is brown, and on the small side for a brown. However, 'brown' is not always a nondescript colour. At second glance, the simple earth tones of his hide give way to a myriad of colours--glimmers of warm amber that edge his angles and points in the sunlight, a note of cinnamon here, a trace of honey here. In dimness, he turns dark, nearly sable, with traces of purple in his shadows. He is made up of elegant curves that flow into each other, of neck, of body, of tail, all one sinuous length, giving him a startling symmetry of form. Yet, for all his delicate curves, there is a strength to him, too, in the angle of his shoulders, the muscles of his hindquarters, the set of his jaw, and the surprising size of his paws. Bright-eyed, he has a mobile, expressive face, and keeps his wings at a jaunty angle.
There is a green to the sea when it is wracked by storms, a pure, deep green that hints of richer shades almost to blue. This dragon is richly colored in those shades, paler on her stomach. She has a sturdiness to her shape that, while not elegant, is economical and well-formed and frequently categorized by either bright, quick movement or absolute lethargy -- there is little in between. Her coloring is paler and verging on opalescent along her throat, and she seems to know it, arching her head to show it off regularly.
Midnight would conceal every curve and shadow of lithe muscle in proportionate limbs and narrow sides and make him seem smaller than even he is, but for the orderly cosmos of minuscule astral flecks all along his hide. Cobalt is flaunted on overlarge headknobs, seriously dwarfing his otherwise compact head. Tapered muzzle is a hub of raw aluminum, from which four tendrils extend, marking out systematic neckridges, convex underbelly, and delicate wingspars against his dark hide. Azure clusters at the tip of his thin tail, a final straggling blaze to prove him blue.
Intricately reptilian patterns scale the hide of this deep, dark brown, their fine charred lines lending him a sinister, disreputable air that's only enhanced by the bright cunning in his brow-shadowed gaze. Further charcoal smudges his neckridges, seeming to dissolve into campfire smoke at their well-honed tips, a haze that drifts all the way down his tail. His wingsails are a smoldering veil, burnt nearly to black along his wingtips and spars, casting even more shadows upon the lanky leanness of his body; he's a dragon well-suited to darkness, sly and swift and unquestioningly self-assured.
There's something debonair about this brown dragon, and it's not just his hide like glossy mahogany, nor his svelte lines, so long and lean and perfectly proportional. The rakish tilt to his headknobs only accentuates the smug glee characteristic of his wide-spaced eyes; an equally aristocratic precision informs the swept-back line of his neckridges, their leading edges wine-rich as well as regal. Whiskey pools about his exquisite paws with the sheen of bronze, and about the tip of his dapper tail likewise; it also burnishes the fine bones of his wings, though not the mottled parchment of his close-held sails - the latter often tucked close to his shoulders and the flamboyant sweep of his back, not a cape so much as a perfectly tailored coat.
He's a beastly sort, this dark hulk of a bronze, all short, spindly limbs and big, knobby joints - and deep-set, mischievous eyes. That deep hide's the granular, gritty shade of a brew long-steeped, though brassier metal glints at the tips of talons and tail and the very end of his nose; his wings are hazier, smoky and swirled, limned here and there with the time-muted copper and green and gold of distant lands. The bluntness of his head contrasts the exaggerated length of his neck, neckridges carrying the same barbed spikes as his curving, upturned tail.
The dragon collects stares as men collect marks, for he is small and twisted in a way that overshadows the rich brown of his hide. It's not just that his muzzle boasts a long scar-in-the-making and is long and awkwardly large in proportion to his thin neck and stubby-looking limbs. It's not even his stunted tail with the crook near its tip. It's the innate malformations that warp wing shoulders and upper spine. If coloring were all that mattered, he would be a fine dragon indeed, what with the warmth of his hide and its undertones of gold and crimson. Brighter gilt even sweeps along his neckridges as might a regal mane then swirls in yet richer adornment across the sails of his wings... but in this life, it's far more than coloring that counts.
Bright, shimmering lime fashions a vivid backdrop across Yizibeth's hide, from the tip of her delicate muzzle to the spades of a flirtatious tail. Intense green fades in a soft gradient to opalescent blonde throughout her upper extremities; her headknobs and the ridges that traverse the length of her spine, the leading edges of her wings and the breadth of her chiffon-esque sails. Sculpted out of gentle curves and attractive proportions, she's a head turner and she's well aware of it.
Regal is his raiment; an imposing illusion of elegance and importance is belied by his average build and slender musculature. His eyes are framed by the curl of phantom spectacles, but that's the only roundness to the dragon's soft-lined face. Plates of solid, smooth lapis lazuli lock across the blue's lithe bulk, as armor that is of him rather than on him. His belly's softer shade is subtle rather striking, but it's the more intricate for it, with wisps of indigo shadows that combining into symbols that might have been etched by some long-forgotten hand. Even his headknobs and nimble talons with their sheen of gold are not his most impressive feature. It's likely his iridescent, sun-catcher wings that capture the greatest attention with their segmented shifts of blue that carry strong undertones of first red, then turquoise, before a vivid true cerulean and on to the tips brushed with yellow-gold. His tail bears the same colors though in a different order, leaving inky crimson for the dexterous tip.
Slight to the point of frailty, she's a moonlit aqumarine, the hue dappling her paper-thin hide from elongated muzzle to the short, fragile curl of her tail, like overlapping water spots from some slow rain. Her wingsails are finer yet, pale as starshine and all but transparent where bright diamond sparks scatter across their span; her claws are soft sickle curves of silver. Even so, the narrow dragon's not skeletal but smooth across her meager frame; her wide-set gaze, far more vibrantly hued and honed than the rest of her, is as intelligent and interrogative as it is perceptive.
Unfettered bronze splashes chaotically across this large dragon's hide, from the supple ridge of his spine to the loose sling of long limbs. Tarnish dips deeply upon the alert wedge of his snout and rims the overlarge lobes of his headknobs. Short of tail and neck, a whiskering of silver amidst the swirling dark lends a sense of gravitas to the masculine thickness of his throat. Brighter burnish gleams amid the sun-washed savannah of his rangey frame, native mottling camouflaging the sinuous marring of long-healed Threadscore. Rooting claws are stone-dark and sure, stark contrast to the swirling dust cloud that ripples across expansive sails.
There is a dancer's elegance to the long lines of her frame, to the slim tail that elongates her to the perfect swans arch of her neck, built with lithe muscles for agility and performance rather than bulk. The color that sweeps along her finely-hued jaw is a soft, feathered yellow-green hue that dapples over the rest of her as if she were lit under a tree that only shows the sun partially, the darker spots allowing a more vibrant green to peek through the hint of yellow. The lofty length of her wingspan is spun almost invisibly across graceful spars, only the hint of a grassy color shining through. Her claws curve perfectly in delicate paws, a rich, polished brown that must hide mud and blood alike.
The promise of elegance radiates from this lean and slender dragonet, lending character and style to his mostly uniform true-brown shade. Built long from nose to tail tip, but average from ivory talons to shoulders, he is a dragon of pleasing aesthetics. Pinstripes of the subtlest of offset browns accentuate each narrow leg and opaque wingsail, drawing attention to the magnetic energy that seems to drive him even while in repose. Chestnut headknobs sweep back from a narrow jawline, shadowing prominent eyeridges that arc over bright, rainbow-prismed eyes, and encroach into the space where deep, blue-tipped neckridges ought to sharpen, giving his noble head distinction from the rest of his shorter neck. It's not there that the bulk of his length is found, but rather in the planes of a torso that will one day be graceful, descending inevitably into a sinuous and agile tail.
A hint of gold marks the undersides of this spindly bronze's wings, visible when he holds them just so, then gone again like well-hidden pirate plunder. His talons are a treasure, too: elongated and wickedly sharp, honed and hued like ancient ivory. Otherwise, though, he's dark; the semblance of sea salt encrusts the burnished patina of his hide, its deep, rusty hues drawn down between the jagged breakers of his neckridges, emphasising youthful scrawniness. There's a keenness to his narrow-set gaze, and determination in the blunt line of his chin; though he may never be powerful in body, the hardy expanse of those water-dappled wings promises eventual agility in flight.
Deep, dark blue drapes across this muscular dragon with all the intensity of a starless night sky. The color is unchanging through most of his hide, deepening just slightly into near-black toward his extremities. His wingsails, though, and just the tips of his ridges, bear a striking amalgamation of blues and greens and even a little bit of purple floating in the darkness.
Boldly hewn of battle-lines and rebellion, this miniature green dragonet, this fierce predator: there is no girlish mint to be seen here, no coy lurk of forest or lichen or spuming spindrift. She is green, grass-green and vivid, from the tip of her pointy nose to the end of her pointy tail. If there is a thing that can be angular, she has it; if there is a thing that should be curved, she lacks it. Draconic she is, make no mistake, but the spikes of her neckridges and the spars of her wings and the talons of her undainty paws all point, ha, to a nature that refuses to bend to feminine conceit.
Even as a hatchling, this green is almost exquisite looking, her limbs gracefully long yet well-balanced that lend a regal impression to the way she moves. Her jawline is chiseled yet sharp, held on the refined length of neck given this dragonet. Misted fog slides over the jungled green of her hide, turning translucent at wings that are almost oversized and yet holding a deeper touch of gemstone on her underbelly.
This dragonet has /claws/. They're as yet large even for her size, a true and vibrant copper that contrasts the lush rainforest green of her hide. The copper's echoed in the longitudinal stripes that slash along her sides, like so many beautiful scars, and re-echoes in the inverted triangles above each uptilted eye. Those eyes are most often fiercely watchful, and somehow hungry even when she's well-fed. Her muzzle is long and tapering, and so is her sleek frame with its predator's coiled gait. As for her wings, as they branch out from strong shoulders, their rainforest mottlings obscure each shift from spar to sail; she's one to hold them a handsbreadth away from her flanks, the better to take up that much more space.
Big, big eyes are all the brighter for their depthless indigo setting, while nearly as expressive are the headknobs that like to tilt this way and that with the dragonet's every mood. Dark without being cold, he's slender but short-limbed in youth; ungainly paws contrast in size to the point of comedy, leaving his knees and wings smudged with turquoise as though he'd tripped and trailed their edges in so much starry light. That light clarifies at the tip of his tail: no longer a galaxy but his very own crescent moon.
Baronial bronze basks across the grand landscape of this creature's formidable physique. It's polished until it gleams near gold in places where brawny muscle bulges up his stately arms and down his haunches, turning brassy around his flank. The peppered teal of corrosion pours like tears from his whirling eyes, dividing his angular head and defining his severe eyeridges. His wings are built from the purest essense of energy, crackles of brass lightning sprawling erratically across the membrane of his sails as if he was born out of the fury of nature, destined to command the air.
This long-limbed dragon is the soft, insubstantial gold of sunrise reflecting off southerly marshes: not dark but not yet truly light, wavering into paler fog about her sides through flanks brushed with the tendrils of silvery scars, only to at last disappear into near-whiteness at her tail. An elongated muzzle holds side-set eyes with a quiet brightness to them, and behind the curve of her headknobs, neckridges flow with a smooth contour like so many expanding ripples. Though she tends to hold her head close to her body, and keep her wings close too, when unfurled the latter rise long and narrow from her broad shoulders. Those wings are not only thin but diaphanous, a sunlit haze between subtly greener spars with only their trailing edges still brushed in shadow. Shadowy are her talons as well, set in yielding, sensitive paws.
This dainty lady's hide is a twirl of colors and hues of green, a sense of moss creeping from her muzzle down along her shoulders and beneath her wings is highlighted by twisting of lime. A sharp and petite snout travels up to finely crafted eyeridges that drift above her eyes. Her neckridges are dabs of pine, the darkest coloration on her body, which gives her a larger sense of height than she actually has. Her wings are modest and when extended, shimmer with malachite intensity.
A big, bronze dragon who is entirely too smart for his own good.
Fortitude and stubbornness drape like unseen vestments, darkening the dragon's muscular shoulders and heavy chest. Sleek and dully glittery, the embers of nearly extinguished hardwood ride up along the corded neck, his angular jawline a mulish flash of green-tinged bronze beneath headknobs of obsidian. Down the stiffened spine, the harsher tones fade to sun-streaked tan over the haunches and wings, flowing down in a wash of dark, grainy sand to the tip of the forked tail, while the lines of the wingspars create a striking contrast of muted russet. The powerful back legs darken to aged, shadowy copper and end in hard talons surrounded by contours of ancient bronze, while his forepaws shift toward an inviting shade of cinnamon, spicing the somber mantle with living vibrance.
Sure-footed and long of limb, not even delicate, well-presented paws can suggest any hint of fragility about this young, moonlit-emerald-bright green. She carries herself with an air of calm and secure confidence, her slim muzzle ever tipped slightly upwards to permit her to survey her surroundings. A brightness to her almond-shaped eyes betrays a hint of mischief, her slim, graceful neck breezing down to narrow shoulders always held almost perfectly level, hints of paler, more icy green beginning to collect in a faint mist about her ribcage, dispersing and building intensity as it reaches her flanks and sweeps down her long, elegant tail, which ends in a flare of sapphire. Her wingsails too are pale, though capture the glossy shine of a rough-cut gem in sunlight, hints of a darker, shadowy hue gathering along spars and wing-joints. Her talons are black, square-edged in their blunt newness, as yet of little use to inflict damage.
A primordial figment, a terror, this wraith, a creature come up from the pit of the world, from the fathomless sea. He is swathed in midnight blue and mystery with a ghostly fog writhing murky cobalt around his slender shoulders to mist out into the jutting spires of his wingspars, milky clouds floating across the membrane of wingsails shot through with dark veins like spiderwebs. His eerie-lit eyes are narrowed in an intense face sharp of cheek and snout, leering from the pitch darkness of sunken hollows. Sickly moonlight touches the tips of sea-monster ridges that grow jagged and finned from his spine, larger and larger then smaller and smaller as they get nearer the whip of his tail. The same greenish, otherworldly glow shines just barely on the crown of his head, alighting on blunt headknobs. Long, supple limbs drenched in shadow end in paws with subtle webbing between each digit and cruel black talons that arch like scythes.
All sharp angles and lean limbs, this narrow, crimson-bronze dragon is larger than a first glance might guess. Shades of silvered gold highlight where his joints move beneath hide, and wash out the undersides of his great wings. Truer bronze, accented with copper, brindles its way down his neckridges and the trailing edges of his sails like a dark, slowly consuming fire, sparks extending all the way to his sharp-edged tail. Clever eyes, wise beyond their turns, are an intense focal point for his blackened, sharp-edged muzzle.
At first glance, one might believe that this dragon is hewn out of a tremendously large piece of walnut that's been polished to a perfect shine. There's much to be said about the perfectly even hue of his hide, that rich, dark brown of walnut wood. Grain lines in darker brown start at the tip of his blunted muzzle and whorl, like knots, around his eyes. His features seem set in a perpetual scowl, which is only underscored by the relative darkness of his hide. The rest of him is thickly built and, simply, massive; as browns go, he probably should have been a bronze. But, no; he's solidly brown throughout, with no deviation in his finely grained hide - save one: his wings are three shades lighter, but still marked as the rest of him is. His claws are long, thick, and just a shade or two darker than the rest of him. All in all, he's an example of a masterpiece - if woodcrafters could make dragons, that is.
A Master Woodcrafter's Masterpiece Brown
So pale a blue as to hint at translucency, his hide is reminiscent of watered silk or the sun-dappled shallows that gently roll against a sandy shore, stretched taut over a frame that tends towards long and lean. Here and there, the colors shift: here, a stretch of cyan, muscles limned in near-white; there, slightly darker, as if the sun has been lost behind a cloud, a haze hanging over the horizon. The sharpness of his angles is echoed in the dangerous points of ivory talons, set to contrast against the moody depths of indigo pinions, and the fine lustre of azure sails.
Long and angular, with overlarge wings and redly scabrous neck ridges, this bronze is not a handsome creature; he may have grown into his asymmetrically-proportioned frame, but nothing can erase the perpetual sneer caused by shadowed eyeridges and a narrow, heavily fanged mouth. His hide is beaten, rusted bronze, with the heaviest concentration of titian corrosion stripping down his flanks and underbelly, bleeding down his limbs like running oil. Veins of carmine interlace in the delicate parts of his wingsails, where muddier colors daub his spars; dark as his winghooks are his claws, a red-tinged ebon that's starkly, sharply unsettling against his other hideous proportions.
He's all ridges and hollows, a lean young dragon the greyed blue of northern waters; salt might as well have encrusted the spiky tips of his spine, such a crystalline glint have they, and the prominences above large, canny eyes. That color shivers into warmth along the underside of his wings, from dusky shoals to the subtler golden shimmer of dawn, less concealed than not always revealed.
Pleasantly rotund with adorably large paws, this green is, nonetheless, sprightly and light on her matured limbs. She's colored a dew-touched spring green from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, even down to her toes with their ivory-gold talons; a subtle mottled patterning, slightly darker and reminiscent of paisley, winds in and around the softly curved ridges of her spine. That same patterning is found in the delicate lace-like sails of her wings, flowing from stalwart spars that stretch wider when unfurled than her length would imply, and repeats on the underside of her gently sloped neck. Her face is cherubic with its dished profile and rounded cheeks that convey a perpetually cheerful visage, but it's in her expressive, so often gently whirling eyes that true emotions can be found.
Burnished orange-gold washes about the extremities of this queen who is so very bright in hue, tripping down the low curves of her headknobs, her neckridges, that tail that goes on for miles. Long and lean, her physicality promises a certain capability; with broad wingsails at once delicate and stretched over solid pinions, she's built for power if not for speed and agility, her movements confident, controlled and precise. Large eyes, widely spaced in that enormous, wedge-shaped head, are keen and incisive rather than innocent. She's striking, to be sure, from the fiery brilliance of her hide down to the almost beak-like tip to which her nose narrows and curves; truly, she's a dragon worth noticing.
%r%tThe overall shade of her hide should give ample clues to all as to the nature of this dragonet: a satin-like sheen of green so dark as to appear almost black in low light. Deeply set eyes are placed slightly forward in a predator's gaze, their surrounding hide cast in black that tints gradually up into dark green upon broad forehead. Her long brow and nose are convexly curved, and a tapering muzzle's teeth within gleam larger than normal, while longer headknobs also curve outward, back towards her succinct neck. The 'ridges that spring forth from her back and neck are wickedly sickle-like, appearing as if they might impale or cut the unwary, mimicing inky-black talons that seem to glitter with a faint smattering of stardust near their bases. Long and corded legs effortlessly support her slightly narrow chest and long loin, while angular haunches hint at ample power within. Upon her long and agile tail, black and purer evergreen hues inscribe seemingly random lines and shadowy patterns that make no sense whatsoever, until one steps farther away. It is only then that colors and markings unite into an image that offers the semblance of articulated, exaggerated joints at every vertebrae.%r%tThe wings of this dragonling, while finely balanced between breadth's stamina and length's maneuverability, are as potentially 'disturbing' as the rest of her wicked, well-graven form. Often found mantling open over her prey, deceptively diaphanous pinions are traced with the intimations of occasional 'webworks' of black that arch and stretch - interlinked, supportive - over a predominant background of oily green and smudged, sludgy purple. Around the center of each sail, hints of sluggish pools of patinaed gold and tarnished copper swirl randomly within the predominant green, appearing to shift when her wings are in motion.
The lightest of greens feather this young dragon's hide, flowing in delicate chevrons along her arching neck. Over her slender haunches and shoulders, where her joints meet, her color thickens briefly, to the crisp, dew-wet of fresh spring grass before turning lighter once more across her abdomen. In build, she's all length, not lanky but graceful and self-aware of her beauty, from the long muzzle's delicate, racing-runner's dished snout to the backswept headknobs, down to pinioned, pointed wings and the long legs often bent in a crouch. Her tail meets, measures, and matches all, an expanse at least as long as the distance between its base and the tips of her front ivory talons. In motion, she is the wind.
He might be lit from within, pale bronze turned luminiscent; he wears his hue like a glowing raiment, glossy hide smooth and polished from the aristocratic arch of his neck to the narrow point of that incisive muzzle. Even his wingsails seem incandescent, as if their delicate draperies have been lit from beneath, marked by traceries of gold about pinions, and the fine points of sharp, sturdy talons. Shadows gather, however, beneath the length of his neck and the curve of his belly; striations of burnished bronze curl their way down the length of him, tapering to almost pure black-bronze at the tip of that fine-wrought tail.
He has a dragon's semblance, a dragon's frame: the right number of limbs, the right arrangement and design, down to each blued-steel claw. But it's his narrow eyes-- glowing pools set within the midnight shadow beneath his brow-- that are at once the most natural and the most telling thing about him; all else seems artifice, every inch armored in glossy, silvery blue aside from those eyes and his wings. His hide has such an innate sheen to it that one might imagine, with enough oil, it might mirror back whatever faced it; fine, darker lines articulate his joints and shape his already fine-wedged head in chiaroscuro to seem a helm that's larger than life. Larger than life also is the way he moves, with a powerful athleticism that lends breadth to an otherwise angular physique, and pride in how he bears the twin banners of his wings; they're richer, royal blue, subtly patterned as though with some crest that only the initiated may interpret. Any softness ends there, though. Even his tail looks as though it should clink as it flexes, its seemingly overlapping armor narrowing into a long, far-too-sharp tip.
Faint hints of emerald shine through this beryl coated green. Her face is dark with highlights of nephrite that fades into a faint white that gives her features a sharp, defining, quality. Her long neck, lean muscular shoulders, and lithe body is bathed in a beautiful deep green that seems to have been crystallized from the rolling magmas of a volcano. Her wings are long, her tail dainty, and her body well proportioned.
A subtle creature to look at, though certainly not average, this dragon is draped in the palest shade of grey-green to be imagined, from the beak-like tip of her sharp muzzle, all the way back to the length of her slim tail. It's a peculiar color that warrants a second look, especially with the way her celadon tone creeps into darker hints of green-blue in what seems like strategic places: the pinions of her wings, to swoop in a painter's broad strokes along the areas that comprise the majority of her overlarge sails; near the sharp threat of her dark claws; along her eyeridges and just behind her headknobs. She looks as if she were set in a kiln, glossy in her pallor, well-balanced and attractive. She is a large dragon, but not fat; she's simply larger than many of her counterparts. Her build speaks of stamina, if not the agility and sleek speed of smaller greens.
He's a bear of a brown, thick of shoulder and strong of claw, with wings that he wears like a grand and all-encompassing cape. Erratic neckridges are larger than most; that irregular crest sweeps from his darkly chiseled face over an otherwise mahogany backdrop, carrying that sable hue between swept-back headknobs and down his spine in a long swath to the very tip of his tail; that extremity could be broad and strong and dark like his other limbs, but instead it's also long, apt to coil with supple, surprisingly-quick tensile strength. The only true lightness about his looks-- other than, sometimes, his eyes-- must be the rare gold that shines from beneath his wings, illusory softness and not-so-illusory drama inextricably combined.
Bulky, hulking, the huge blue dragon explores the world with oddly delicate paws to tip his sturdy limbs; now and again there's even a bounce to his stride. Always there's a plush warmth to his dark hide; its brownish lowlights become more pronounced across the weight of his thick forehead and strongly crested neck, his muscular shoulders and craggy, shaggy wings. His eyes may seem small beneath such a heavy brow, but they have a keen glint, and the near-eternal venturesomeness of his approach comes with curving gray-sheened claws.
Darkness embraces the sleek, slender form of this blue. Light reveals a striking, secret beauty in the pooled inky blue, pulling prismatic highlights and undertones throughout the darkness of his hide. In just the right light, he might seem to glitter; though not crystalline, movement in light breathes vibrancy and a certain grandeur to the rainbow splotches that peek through the blue lens, particularly dazzling across the slightly iridescent thin membrane of wingsail and stronger in shade across the spiky lines of his maw, headknobs and neckridges. His deep-set eyes are lined with midnight, though the colors within his bejewelled gaze exceptionally vivid. His talons are pale as bleached bone, adding yet one more contrast to the many that make up this blue.
She's so small, sinuous, a dragonet green as grass at night; her large dark-lit eyes hearken to evening more than light. Some old flame might have charred her here and there, sharpening the sweet, sharp curves of her ash-dusted claws and softening the delicate wisps of her gauzy wings even as it darkens. She might move with even more swift confidence if it weren't for the disfigurement that catches that left wing's mainsail, adhering it to the nearest spar. She could be a delicate, dancing shadow, her willowy form carried by tiny, nimble paws.
At a casual glance, Tziveth's hide appears obsidian, bronze tone giving it a sheen of familiar shade. It's not until closer inspection that it is clear that the tones of his hide are striated and varied, shading in different tones but never straying too far from his base, bronzed-obsidian shade. Long and lean angular limbs and sharp angles give him a wiry, near skeletal appearance; he is not the largest bronze by far, and yet the way the intent looking dragon watches constantly, taking in everything, might well give Tziveth a sense of intimidating presence all the same. Wickedly sharp ivory talons stand out in contrast to the dark of his hide.
She might seem all chartreuse claws and even sharper teeth, not only the spikes that adorn the little dark dragon's webbed paws nor the hooked ridges that swoop down her spine, but the semblance of more equally-bright skewers along the trailing edges of each narrow wing and even the jutting joints of her hocks and fetlocks. Her shoulders are the bulkiest thing about her, though her eyes are large beneath sprawling eyeridges; perhaps the eeriest, however, is how all those illusionary and not-so-illusionary claws are tipped with the exact shade of ichor's liquid green.
Fine-boned and all knobby arms and legs, this dark brown is on the smaller size for his colour, at least in terms of his bone structure. Out of the dark chocolate that melts over the rest of his slender body, the brighter, warmer hue of mahogany across his wingsails stand out rather dramatically. It looks almost as though the dark brown shadow that cloaks the rest of his lean figure has been polished away across those narrow sails, revealing the warm woody tone underneath. He has very prominent headknobs and neckridges that might be a little too big for his small size.
The scales of this dragon are a rich, vivid green, but here and there a streak of darker forest green traces along her flank or wings, and a portion of her head and neck are a green so pale as to seem faded. The effect in sunlight is breathtaking, making her seem almost a gemstone carving of a dragon rather than a living beast. Unfortunately, her proportions are somewhat less beautiful at present; she has a gawkiness to her which almost suggests a clumsiness, as if she hasn't quite grown into her own limbs yet.
At first glance, this lithe creature is a being of contrasts, the shadowy, midnight shade that envelops her well-proportioned form one that defines the beginnings of her slim muzzle, steady paws, and both the very edges of her broad, brave shoulders and sails, to the tip of her tail, but this is all the darkness that is allowed to encroach upon her. Where darkness ends, light immediately springs to life, the brush and dance of vivid emerald, jade and prasiolite greens sweeping across her, twisting and twining as they go, highlighting her supple figure and the smoothness of hide over well-defined muscle. Aquamarine and blue topaz possess her generous wingsails, claiming them so securely that, when wings are spread wide, she might, for just an instant, be mistaken for a blue.
Leanly muscled and sure of limb, this tall, dark brown has a whimsical air about him from his muzzle's dished profile all the way down, and down, and ''down'' to his small paws. Those extremities of his are even darker than the rest, as though he'd waded hip-high in ink and trailed his tail behind him too, even splashing it up the spars of his all too expansive wings. It's a second look that might find subtler variations, the depth polished away in his softer places to tawny warmth: the velvety curve of his muzzle and the vulnerable indentation behind his jaw, and indistinct dapplings along his underbelly and the fine sails of his wings like so many ghostly fingerprints. It's grace he carries himself with, hard-earned with maturity, but tinted by his own ineluctable humor.
Rich chocolate hide stretches over the small bones of this runt-sized brown, though potential awaits in the wideness of his russet-tinged wings and the ungainliness of his large-footed amble. With his warm coloring and sleek, satiny hide, he carries himself with a certain self-assurance despite those youthful disadvantages. His large and bright eyes, overset by sooty eyeridges, are a focal point of his finely crafted head, and are at odds with the perpetual, resting smirk of his mouth. Dark smatterings of copper and carmine scatter across his flanks, deepening into a large deposit of rusted shadows that stretches upward from his gleaming slate claws into the hollows of his wings.
She isn't small, for all that she's green: all elongated curves rounded by baby fat, the more remarkable for the spirited way she holds her head and the brilliance of her hue. That luminescent green, spilt along her generous torso and over high arched and gently sloped back haunches, might appear grassy in another world; here, it's liquidly glossy as though just beneath the surface of a sunlit lake. A patterned braid is faint down the length of her spine, a matte relief amidst the fluid coloring, visible only in the ''right'' light. She's all the brighter for the darkness she does possess, near-mahogany shadows that stripe behind her swept-back neckridges and beneath the lithe length of her tail; dark as well are her tiny paws' claws, dark and ''pointed''.
As smooth as water, this dragon's hide is a green with hints of aquamarine as if blurred into her general color, much like the waters found in Boll or even points further south. Her sleekness is constant throughout forearms and hind legs, and even her ridges lend themselves to a gentle curve that could be found in the most subtle of waves. With well-defined color throughout, the only difference may be in her wingsails: speckled more along the underside of the sail, there are hints of gold, green, and an entire myriad of colors. On closer examination, this same trend flickers across each talon with a slight oddity of a tail that seems to be shorter than proportional.
He's a hunter, a prowler: a mid-sized bronze with outsized appetites and equally ginormous wings. Nor are the shades of his hide particularly subtle, though they must serve as camouflage ''somewhere''; he's all fired up in sedimentary shades that near brown and gold as they layer across his narrow frame, paling in long scratches down his throat and deeper gouges along his belly. Another stripe blazes from his broad brow, between forward-set eyes and all the way down to his acutely narrow but strong-jawed, toothy snout; his neckridges are spiky, his forelegs a touch smaller than the norm, his hindquarters solid with the promise of muscle aplenty while his tail is both long and strong. As for those wings, they might as well be comet-blazed, chased with coppery highlights over a bronze as dark as his predatory claws.
This queen is at once delicate and earthy; though not lacking for curves in the line of her shoulders and hindquarters; she's light and lithely built, rippled over with warm wheaten gold from her slim muzzle to the slender tail that makes up most of her length. Brighter, purer gold highlights the ridges of large, disarmingly curious eyes, even as her wide wingsails' translucent swirl unites airy sunshine with the potential for darker turbulence. Only once more do those soft grains of color diverge: in her small paws, colored a copper verging on fallen leaves-- or old and rusted blood.
Seasoned mahogany crafts the diminutive length of this brash and bold brown's hide, its rugged coloring as inconsistent as paint peeling and flaking off a wall. Patches of sun-faded brown only serve to highlight his smaller physique, the shadows along untried muscles brought into sharper relief by the uneven, weathered coloring. A stubby snout leads up to cragged eyeridges, a bridge above small, suspicion-filled eyes. From there, neckridges dot his thick neck like barnacles, cascading across his back and on to disappear along a rudder of a tail, too short for its body. While the sails of his wide wings billow over him, net-like in their lighter veining, his stocky frame still keeps close to the ground, anchored by stumpy hind legs that give him a swaggering gait.
He's physically unimposing, this slight and slender bronze, the kind of dragon who could so easily have been outright skinny were it not for the natural arch of his neck and the tailored curve of his narrow body. The red-bronze of oxidized cinnabar sweeps across him: upon the aristrocratic bent of his long, sharp face and pointed chin, where he wears his distant lineage so distinctly; up and down each sculpted neckridge; and all the way to the tip of that tail that has such a tendency to probe and pace behind him. Except in flight, he wears his dark, dulled-bronze wings tight, furled like a cloak-- and yet, outstretched, his wingspan is impressive for his size, those wingsails abruptly lustrous as their deep sheen catches any available light.
A little rugged, a little gawky, more than a little handsome, he's vital from the intelligent cant of eyes and rakishly-cast headknobs to the lengthy, whiplike tail: a young dragon in uniform, a snazzy blue only just darker than royal. His wings are tapered yet broad, if currently big for him; if they're also streaked with flagstone blue, just like the tips of his neckridges and the crevices of his joints, it's a worldly dustiness that promises plenty of exploring in distant lands. When it clings to short, strong claws, it's less a matter of color than it is simply matte: grit that accentuates an otherwise near-black shine.
Angles, sharp but far too fluid to be spikes, pair with bone-deep grace to soften his size; he's a dragon distinguished by his supernally pale hue and yet distinctly brown. Lightning-marks lick from the core of his spine across wingsails and back, sparking toward and down his long broad tail. Movement gives life to the forked etchings fixed in flesh, flickering like dancing flame with every limber shift. A wicked intelligence lives in the dragon's glowing eyes, and in the upturned line of his maw with its many sharp and pointy teeth. The harmlessness his innate laziness implies is belied by a subtle cagey, calculated quality-- and the deadly curl of claw.
Even in unpolished youth, this two-toned bronze has the promise of presence. He might have been merely a pale specimen, were it not for the heavy shadows that drip, as though wetly oozing, from the tenebrous ridges of his spine. That pattern, if it can truly be called such with its extreme irregularity, is unbalanced from one side to the other: absolute boundaries of dark swallowing light in some places, grisly smears to unite them in others. Though bright against their dark spars, his wingsails also bear the erratic splatters of arterial spray. He's a solid, strong creature, but age will whet his angles into ever sharper, ever harder lines, from his hooked muzzle down to his honed talons.
Mahogany darkens his back, masking powerful shoulders and persisting on the flat 'ridges that march up his neck, right until the edge of the teak hood that covers headknobs and eyeridges. A richer rosewood feathers ruddier tones over the tops of his wings, skipping his legs to appear again over fearsome talons. The lighter underside of his youth has darkened with age, attested now only in the clay on the middle of his 'sails and sandstone on his limbs; gossan has since dusted his belly, and fully covered wings' leading edge, while charcoal has scored the trailing fringe. Burnt ochre brings out the hook of his snout, but even that pales in comparison to the bright vermillion of his long tail.%R%RHis front left leg twists at a bit of a strange angle, and he moves with the slightest limp, but no signs of pain.
A lush green dragon is Ivraeth, that darkly dappled ivy twining along the length of lithe, sinuous lines. Hints of honeyed highlights frame indulgent, hooded eyes and stroke along her jaw, before the color darkens along the length of her supple neck. That honeyed gold again glazes the generous curve of her flanks, sweeping for only a moment onto the base of her thin and equally supple tail. Her wings are built for shorter, agile flights, the spars themselves delicate and precise, while the fine membrane between them is almost transparent in its thinness, a green so dark as to be black: intertwined vines at night, worked with the near-invisible impression of nightshade's starry blooms.
She's the color of the ocean in midwinter, all fathomless depths and dark, wavering shadows; no shallows, here, and no sun-dappled waves. Seaweed-like, the spikes of her neckridges are uneven and yet still graceful, their sloping lines a map of their own making towards the anchor-like weight of her tail. Her wings are darker still, a murky green-black that, if she holds them just right, catches the light as if to reveal long-hidden secrets; a nightmare lost far beneath the briny waves.
Niahvth's bright spirit's clear in the sparkle of her eyes, so often lit with rainbows. As a dragon of soft curves, decidedly average in size if not girth, her hide is the warm yellow-gold of an afternoon's buttery sunshine. She's long of neck and plush of body and ample of tail; with wings that have a delicate earthiness to them, marigold freckles pattering up her primary spars and a playful path of floral clouds - periwinkle, nasturtium, more marigold - floating across her sails. The underside of her belly is smudged with valley grass that peters out along her haunches down to curled, cozy paws.
Soft-brushed sorrel smooths over this small, streamlined brown dragon, whose diminutive body's overshadowed by the majestically exaggerated lengths of his dark wings. His comparatively short, slender muzzle and expressive eyeridges are a paler brown, as are small crescents on his cheeks like old battle-scars; his headknobs are paler likewise, while darker smudges down his neckridges make them seem more curved than they really are. From chin to pale-banded tail, his underside sinks into the near-black shared by his wings, those dark hues offset that much more dramatically by the contrast of near-white talons. More subtle but just as dramatic is his balanced bearing, whether in intensity or tranquility: a true predator's power and poise.
He's a darkling bronze of long legs and longer tail, grown into the dreadful weight of his wings, with the wolfish prowl to prove it. Those wings are mottled as smokily as the rest of him, but webbed darker still. Darkness shadows the dragon's muzzle as well, like some long-smoldering mask, but it can't fully hide the eerie gleam of his eyes beneath their heavy brows nor the flare of large nostrils seemingly crafted for scenting prey. The only clearer points about him beyond the old silvery scarring which trails like an amorphous rune along his belly, are his neckridges, and even they are less pale than steeled sharp-- ticked at their points like spines-- and of course his avid hunter's claws.
Thicket and bramble, thorn and strife: in midnight was this dragonet dreamt, and the darkness of the witching hour lingers to puddle the absolute loneliness of the canopy's floor to salient structures. Each curving neckridge terminates in inky jungle, the jumble of her soft chest lost to the dark, the stretch of long-toed paws stygian. The eccentricity of rust grimes an oxydized dorsal-stripe from withers to tail-tip, smudging along wing-bone and patterning along her haunches abstractly to muddle her belly. Above, her wings stretch wistful, lichen-limed and forest-forgotten, yearning for the smatter of golden rays that highlight the leading edge of her sails.
Kinetic energy radiates through this dragonet's youthfully exaggerated proportions, as though it might set the nebula of his hide-- its hazy clouds of light and contrastingly swart shadows obscuring a burnished copper-bronze backdrop-- into full-fledged and characteristically unpredictable motion. Gravity might well have drawn the darkest hues towards the central part of his frame, leaving his extremities bright and nearly golden at the tips of headknobs and claws, but for the billow of deep, dusted rust across his wingsails that escapes even that. Clusters of stars stipple pale constellations across his top-line, traversing from his muzzle over his neckridges and wingspars, all the way down to the spade of his tail.