Third-Light

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ok so after ive mourned flame and trickwings im ready to move on
light / mud / fish wing 
immortal, the grandfather of raccoon and enigma and moonbow somehow????????
im gonna do second person because im gonn a try this
but you are third light
yeha
squirrel fish, fire eel, mud eel amphibian thing??, barbirusa boar thing
You tentatively pace down the narrow hall. A wonderful building built into the mountains themselves, overlooking grand canyons and cliffs. 
The ancient school is in disarray, all aside from a single painting, restored strangely as if it were as good as new. The face looking down upon you is a NightWing you don't recognize but it's not like you were ever particularly versed in the NightWing culture.
There's a sense of longing, tugging at your heart, you realize, as you turn down a hallway and peer into a classroom. A chalkboard started to stain into the stone behind it and the chalk had joined the rubble long ago. This place is supposed to be filling someone with long memories of nostalgia, but this place isn't your story. This place isn't familiar to you even if someone might have grown up here the same time you did.
Part of you feels guilty that you'll never see it again. But another part of you isn't. Because you hope no other dragon has to go through what you do every day.
You have, your lungs weak and your eyes heavy with exhaustion. You wonder if this was a dormitory school with how large it was. If the remains of a bed even survived the years of moving on.
But at the edge of the hallway, you see something catch your eyes. You flinch, because you thought you were alone. When you regain your composure, you notice it was simply a mirror, staring back at you, pitifully. 
==Appearance==
You peer into the mirror, your image blurred by the thick layer of dust built upon it over the course of hundreds of years. You approach it slowly, slinking towards it with your inconvenient serpentine body paired with small, spindly talons. You extend your aching neck and try to blow the dust off, to no avail. Your arms are too short to reach up and brush off the dust, so instead, you brush the side of your face on the mirror. With a shock, you feel the dull pain of a cut slicing across your cheek. Typical of you to acquire these tasteless wounds anymore. 
Your sour expression glares back at you with bitter, bright yellow eyes as you observe how badly the broken mirror hurt you. 
You tilt your head to the side, to get your gigantic tusks out of your view. It puts a strain on your immediate neck, for the tusks have long ago curled back through your skull and up through your vertebrae. You have to angle the rest of your eelish neck to comfortably move, your finny gills involuntarily flexing through the pain of the new wound and the old bones fighting one another in a battle that should have ended long ago. 
Your teeth grit, the bags under your eye feel more prominent as you uncomfortably turn your head and brush the wound on the dusty carpet below. An idea that you immediately regret but the warm trickle of blood is much too uncomfortable to your liking, even if you are accustomed to the feeling. 
Your long muzzle, tipped with your piggish snout, sneezes. You should leave. The dust is making it much too hard to breathe. After everything you've put it through, fresh air is the least you could do for it tonight. 
You slowly start slinking back the way you came. This time you have a total disregard for the antiques and decor. You still feel guilty when your oversized fins find ways to catch and knock them off. You can't even curl up like an inchworm because of the chandeliers tangling in your spine fin and startling the spirits out of you. 
The exit finally reveals itself to you, ancient doors have long rotted away so the bright moonlight leaks its way inside. You duck your head, facing the stars as you embrace the open air with a wide-open mouth. And you sigh, smiling slightly. A relief to get out of that stuffy canyon maze. 
You follow the makeshift path back up to the top of the cliff, the danger of the fall out of your mind. You don't even flinch when you glance down at your tiny talons struggling to get a foothold. You've felt worse and you'll feel worse still. You still feel accomplished for making it back up without tripping too treacherously.
As you begin to curl up amongst the dusty rocks atop the cliff, fragile skin brushing up against the sensation of bones, you admire the stars twinkling in the night sky. Its dark blue was a stark contrast from your dull red scales on a similarly grey, bleached mountain face. Your dark and pinkish fins that you once flared with pride had nothing against the beautiful nebulae of the galaxies above. You couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of its grandeur. After thousands of years, the stars still took your breath away. But in reference to yourself, you take your breath away in an unpleasant way with each shallow breath of your supposed powerful SkyWing chest.
But your eyes catch upon your scales, once or twice before your tired eyes can truly fall into the one comfort you truly know. The subtle glitter in your scales, the lovely glint of Light from your father, taking the starlight for just a moment to shine somewhere more tangible....
You were able to fall asleep briskly that night. 
==Personality==
While your night was peaceful, dreamless and quiet, you awake with a start. Something skittered across your face and when you jerked your head in reaction, you let out a hiss of pain. You hear your neck creak and a new crick in your neck throbs with soreness. You catch the guilty party: a rat, skittering to another part of the canyon to find food in the wastes. You growl at it, it doesn't respond immediately until you stand and it runs off. Part of you felt compelled to chase it, but to do so would wear your body out much more than it was worth it. 
How you would scold yourself for being so grumpy. Once upon a time, you were a charming young dragon who was sociable and gentle! With a heart of gold and hardly minded to be woken up so suddenly for a friend. But your enthusiasm has been curbed, optimism wearing down after decades of use to no avail. You find the idea of lending a dragon a talon anymore to be such a pain, preferring not to humor the concept.
In fact, when was the last time you even saw another dragon, you ask yourself? The days blended together, and the trip to the southwest was quite uninhabited based on the horror stories of the claw of Pyrrhia. You didn't believe in any of these tales, though, you probably should have. Not until you saw what magic could do to someone. Firsthand. But it was still fairly shocking when you saw the rows of IceWing skeletons around the perimeter of the territory. You shutter, your sail fluttering in the wind at the movement, as you begin trekking back in the direction of the desert.
The desert, right. You recall the SandWings you met on your way here. The ones who gave you a bit of an ugly look but were well-meaning. It wasn't uncommon for the Queendom of Sand to be littered brutal conditions and a lack of dragons braving them. So to see a few somewhat friendly faces was refreshing. They even offered you water, which you gratefully accept, as you asked for directions. They didn't ask any questions, which you appreciated. With the ending of this most recent - and quite bothersome - war, you noticed an influx of dragonets who were born to indistinguishable tribes. You could appreciate that. Maybe when those hybrids grow up you'll be able to live in a town again without being glared at. You were never one to snap, but these days, dragons were tempting you to take off a talon or two. 
 
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{| border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" style="width:100%; border-collapse:collapse;"	
Third-Light 	Third-Light
 	
Background information	Background information
Creator 	EnigmatheHybrid
Infobox Coder 	Wings-of-Bloodfire
Infobox Artist 	Wings-of-Bloodfire
Aliases 	insert
Main Attribute 	immortality
Elemental Attribute 	smoke
Theme Color 	dusty reds/oranges
Theme Animal 	velociraptor
Theme Song 	N/A
Character information 	Character information
Age 	lost count of the years
Gender 	male
Preference 	Hetro, but his one true love is Rabbit-Foot
Occupation 	looking for a way to break his curse, to guide dragons away from mistakes of the past
Tribe 	FlameWing/TrickWing
Goal 	to break his curse and be with his mate, best friends, and family
Residence 	anywhere he can be alone and not kicked out of
Relatives 	Smokestack (father), Lucky-Ivory (mother), Rabbit-Foot (mate), Broken-Mirror (daughter)
Allies 	his family, his best friend's family, anyone with an open mind
Enemies 	dragons that want to use him to their advantage, dragons that don't want him to stay immortal, insane animuses
Likes 	to be with his family, Rabbit-Foot, Ash, feeling normal, open minders, dragons that'd like to help him
Dislikes 	being able to continue to live forever, to be alone, to be attacked, crazy animus dragons, water
Powers and abilities 	immortality, ability to run like a raptor, smog
Weapons 	claws and teeth
Ships 	Rabbit-Foot
Quote 	"I hate waking up every day. It's just a reminder that I shouldn't wake up, and how I could be with my Rabbit-Foot and Ash."
i had to DELETE EVERYTHING OR ELSE I COUDLNT TYPE 
==Gallery==
Third light 4 god.png|By LV! Totally gonna be the next kami ;D
3_Light.png|By Rime!
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Category:Content (EnigmaTheHybrid)
Category:Hybrids
Category:Males
Category:LGBT+
Category:Animus Touched
Category:Characters
Category:MudWings
Category:SeaWings
Category:SkyWings
Category:LightWings