The IceWing Kingdom is so. cold. You shiver as you trudge along, your wings too frozen to fly. Even if you could fly, the falling snow obscures your vision, and the howling winds would have pushed you off course. No, nothing would come from flying in this sort of weather. Better to keep slogging through the snow, and hope that you find someplace to take shelter in soon. In fact...!
Up ahead, you see the softest glimmer of light. You squint, snowflakes clumping around your eyes, and hold your breath. You don't dare hope; it would be such a shame if you did, only to have it crushed by disappointment. As you draw closer, however, you can't keep hope from mounting. The light pours out from the entrance of a den. Someone has dug a warm, cozy shelter into the side of a giant snowdrift. You linger for a moment, wondering if it would be impolite to just enter, but the piles of snow collecting on your snout make you decide that survival is more important than politeness.
You duck and awkwardly shimmy through the entrance of the den. It's a tight squeeze, and for a moment, you wonder if it might belong to a polar bear or some other Arctic animal. You hope it doesn't belong to a scavenger-but no, a polar bear den would not have light coming from them, and a scavenger's would be even smaller than this.
Passing through, you emerge into a chamber that is far larger than you would have expected, and far...stranger. You blink in confusion and awe.
Cushions are strewn about the floor, as well as shiny foils and colorfully patterned papers. The walls are bedecked with garlands and wreaths crafted from evergreen plants. From the ceiling hang small glass globes, lit up from within with something that looks like pure sunlight. A fire has been made in the fireplace; it's warm glow was what you saw from outside. What's most amazing of all is the mighty coniferous tree which grows from the very center of the room, it's great branches reaching up to brush the high ceiling. The tree is draped in tinsel and strings of lights, and adorned in shiny ornaments and baubles.
After a few moments of standing there, taking in the marvels of the room, you hear someone behind you politely clear their throat. They give a small "ahem," startling you. You whip around—an apology for entering and an explanation for your presence and an introduction and a question about what is the place, and how is it here, and how was it made, and why was it made here?'—all leap forth from your mind, competing for the chance to be said. The dragon who has caused this mad struggle for words on your part watches you; she looks highly amused, but also like she's trying very, very hard to conceal her amusement.
Holly is a small, angular dragon of LeafWing and SkyWing heritage. Her head is neat and shapely, her neck with a refined arch to it. Her horns are long and slender objects, inherited through her SkyWing ancestry, but they have been straightened of the bumps which speak of a full SkyWing. Green is her predominant colour, with her green scales and piercing green eyes. The leafy spines positioned along her back are notched and of a darker green. Lining her belly are deep red underscales, a red which is repeated in the membranes stretched between her two large, graceful wings.
Day is the younger half-brother to Holly, but the two were unaware of each other's existence for the entirety of their dragonethood. Through their mother they have both inherited SkyWing traits; while this is only apparent in Holly's wings and horns, for Day, his warm coloration openly advertises him as a hybrid; a dragon that neither the SkyWings nor the IceWings would welcome.
If Day had simply been a hybrid, his mother would have provided him the same care as she did Holly. It was definitely not the most attentive or most affectionate care, but if she had chosen to care for him, it would've at least demonstrated that he was of some concern to her. As it was, her fear and prejudice of animus magic extinguished whatever kinship she felt towards him. After Day exhibited that he had great potential as an animus, she wanted nothing to do with him. She would have chucked him off of the highest cliff she could find if Day's father hadn't persuaded her to spare his life.
Cheer was never given a name by their parents, having been a hatchling of such poor constitution that it was assumed they would not survive. So the pair left them for dead beneath the shrub where they had hatched, in the mountainous region separating the desert from the mudlands, where the unforgiving environment and border disputes have made the dragons living there all too prepared to turn on each other. It was not a place where an abandoned hatchling would elicit much, if any, sympathy.
With their smooth horns and the crest lining their back, Cheer is able to pass as a SandWing; a very odd-looking SandWing, to be sure, but a SandWing nonetheless. The slight curve to their horns, and the high placement of their nostrils, and the unusually dark orange of their scales are all features that can be explained away. There is perhaps something admittedly MudWing to the shape of their head, and their wings might be a tad overlarge for their body, but their missing hindleg has proven to be a greater cause for curiosity than those.
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