Raina

For the July Palette contest. WIP. Midwife/apothecary. 
She was here. She will be here. She'll guide the young'uns along on their paths, but she's content. She's not home, but she's here. And that means something, she thinks. She hopes.
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Blue. Gold. Green. Maybe not even pretty, but close. Dull-eyed, long mane, long horns. Talons of blue, tentacles of blue. Washed out, glass-like fade. Wingless, flightless, gill-less. Poor thing.
Green and gold all tied up in a mess of scales, stained with algae and barnacles. She looks like a hybrid. Probably is one, althogh the strangest, oddest one ever seen in the Bay. 
Rippled, glassy scales. Long fin of turquoise, tea, green rippling down lanky neck. Smooth scales, claws, tentacles, not rough like the others, not slimy like the others. 
Shies away from you. Short, lanky. Surrounded by bubbles of light, color, hope. Contrast with reality. Always in contrast with reality.
Thin lime membrane on neck, veins visible. 
...
She looks... alone. Different.
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Speechless. 
Cautious around all but the newborns. Hoping, dreaming, wishing, trying. Alone, shy, but not hopeless.
Dull eyes without emotion, shows other ways. Flick of tail, tentacles, ear. Oft sad, ne'er angry. Whistles, but not sings or speaks. Whistles shanties and tales of the sea. The Sea.
From the sea she came, to the sea she returns. But always, always, dragonets first. She no longer grows, but she helps them. She lets them learn to love, to play, to fight, all the things she missed, washing up too old on foreign shores.
Always to heal, before to run, hide flee. To make safe, not to harm. To save. To grow. To form, shape, guide.
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The apothecary. Strange, twisted, a little bit nervous. Not quite, always, forever a dragon. Not quite. She might've been of the Sand, desert, ancient, or of the Sea, ocean, water, endless. Nobody really knew. She came from nowhere in particular, to somewhere. The Sandwings say she is one of them. So do the Seawings, so I suppose she's both, just... odd.
She wouldn't swim. She had seen too much of the ocean. She wanted to help those who had swam out too far. She needed to. To swim to the edge was to see the edge. 
When she was young, she had seen the sea. Seen the gold, blue, green, grey waters ever-circling. She had came from the sea. She was the Sea. Some called her the Greenglass Witch, others the Apothecarum, others simply Her.
She lived in Seattle, the city by the bay of Pacificia, the new city of the old, ancient, lost.
She doesn't like the sea anymore. She likes the dragonets.
Their little snouts poking out, tiny, sweet, gorgeous. She saw their little snouts. She'd help them grow from the egg, touching a tentative, cerulean, lanky tentacle to the forehead of the new dragon with caution. She knows what dragonets need. She knows how to keep them alive, safe, home. She understands them.
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It's hard to tell where she came from. Beyond the sea, washed ashore one day, half alive, living, breathing, living. Only half. Asleep. She came from beyond the sea, from a home unseen, from a paradise, an Atlantis, land of secrets, where perhaps the tribes lived in peace, her as an emmisary. Perhaps in war, her as an outcast, immigrant, seeker.
She woke up alive. never speaking, talking, dreaming. She looked like a Seawing hybrid, but not quite. She had no lights, no gills, and dull eyes. Dull. Dull like faded glass on a broken shore, peaks rising over the ocean, fading to black, without life and yet full of it. Like the waves washing over a broken heart. 
She saw how dull she was, she swam away. She saw their revulsion, she swam away. She saw fear, she swam away. She saw all the things they said, they wanted, they needed. She saw dislike. She saw pain. And she swam away.
She belonged to the Waters, and yet she repulsed them. She needed the waves, and yet, as she got older, she stayed away, home, alone. She knew more, she gained more, she loved more, thought more, hoped more on land- she gained a half-life of her own, all her own. 
The other half was her duty. To swim away, to wash back, to be here and there forevermore, guiding the young along to great paths. Great paths she could ne'er achieve, but always dream of.
But she always comes back for the eggs. She always comes back. Always. She was there. She will be there. She knows- she knows. She must.
Category:Work in Progress
Category:Females
Category:Characters
Category:Occupation (Healer)
Category:LGBT+
Category:SeaWings
Category:SandWings
Category:Hybrids
Category:Content (Celestialfyre)