NOTE: This dragon belongs to Dusk, do not touch unless it's to fix grammar mistakes! Tampering will not be tolerated! Thank you and enjoy!
WARNING: CONTAINS SENSITIVE SUBJECTS LIKE WAR, DEATH, GORE, AND SUICIDE. IF ANY OF THESE ARE TRIGGERING SKIP THE HISTORY SECTION.
Appearance[]
Personality[]
Abilities[]
Solanine has powerful leafspeak, this is due too both his natural ability and the decades he’s spent researching and practicing. In fact, he’s so powerful, that through his study in plants, he achieved a form of pseudo-immortality, where he’s immune to the effects of time but can still be killed.
He’s also skilled in the art of murder, specifically through poisons, venoms, and toxins. Initially pursued out of hate for HiveWings, it turned into a genuine fascination that he has a passion for. He can make any murder look like heart attacks, suicides, suffocations, seizures, or old age under the guise of his many poisons.
History[]
Solanine was born 50 years before the Tree Wars, his time was idyllic with all the Pantalan tribes interacting peacefully. There were few arguments, and most were minor, usually being short lived disputes. This however changed once the HiveWings’ aggression began to grow rapidly. This shocked everydragon, because while HiveWings have been known to be prideful, they were always a honorable tribe. Soon, as tensions grew, all dragons knew war was on the horizon, and Solanine, who was a talented and respected Leafspeaker, was forced to begin to turn his skills to a more violent direction. Solanine was incredibly resistant to this, stubbornly holding onto his faith in the peace he had grown up in as a young dragonet. He would soon come to regret this though, as a HiveWing ambush would decimate his squad, leaving him the only survivor. His fellow researchers hadn’t gone down without a fight though, and there, talons stained with the blood of his fellow and his enemies, standing by rapidly bloating and seizing corpses, his rose-tinted glasses that held onto peace were shattered. He finally tasted the bitter flavor of war, and knew he couldn’t hide behind the front lines anymore, he knew that peace wasn’t an option.
Solanine sometimes feels a guilt, knowing that if he had stopped preaching about peace earlier and focused more on his skill in poisons like his fellow researchers, they might still be alive. That his stubborn, elderly, talons could’ve made a change. After grieving, hate began to burn for those he lost, and he obsessively began to study and practice all the dangerous way plants could be use. His works were a boon to the LeafWing kingdom, and more often than not, viscous and horrifying to his fellow. Others avoided him due to this terrifying, obsessive hate that had consumed him, and he was content, knowing he was honoring his lost ones by avenging their deaths through their studies in poison.
This all changed one day.
Solanine, who served as a poison researcher, and part time assassin, wasn’t often on field due to his advancing age, but the times he’s seen the battlefields, what’s left, the silence and the statuesque bodies, it leaves him feeling both vindicated yet empty. This time he saw dragonets. Vast fields of them on the ground, limp, sometimes still twitching. Death was slow to come for those who fought LeafWings, and it was often painful,and looking into the hazy still living eyes of dragonets that shouldn’t even be graduated from school, hearing the still moaning and pleading voices for brothers, sisters, parents, friends and death, it shook him. He had lived his past years of war in with a fog in his head that filled his veins with a miasma of bitterness and hate, and suddenly, again, those rose-tinted glasses shattered. What was worse was, each body, he could recognize what laid them low, and more often than not, it was a poison made by his talon. As he passed body by body, each bare to the world, he robotically catalogued the cause of death. The cold clinical path of his thoughts contrasted painfully with the unholy sight before him that he laughed. Hysteria. Mania. Shame. Guilt. He felt it all, like the fog had lifted and left him naked to the sun’s searing gaze, and suddenly, the looks of disgust and fear from his fellows, his family and friends that still lived, it all made sense. The sun’s rays created a heatwave, it seemed to have a tangible weight, it shook his elbows, his knees, and it pressed down his head, pulling the guilt out of him through sweat that made him feel unbearably cold and hot at the same time. He felt sick. Solanine look side to side suddenly as his cut his laughter, and from his bowed position, he could see the other LeafWings stare at him. The crowd of eyes held a sea of emotions all repulsed in some way. He went home in silence.
Solanine, never wanted this, or did he? After all, he wanted revenge, was this revenge, is this what he wished for, what he prayed for? He couldn’t answer, he didn’t want to, Solanine knew he wouldn’t like that answer. So he returned to work, he always had a passion for plants, beyond Leafspeak, each aspect that made a species unique, it fascinated him, captured his attention and kept him awake at night pondering the wonders of life. Now he pondered the horrors of death. Work, his work, now he would dedicate his work to be swift, painless, merciful. The passion, or obsession because passions hold love, in poisons was born from hate, from war, but now that he took time to think with a slightly clearer mind, he realized he still cared about it. Like a dragonet to a puzzle, it captivated him as ever. He wondered if that made him an evil dragon, but nevertheless he persevered, after all, it was his duty to make war a little les horrible, if not for his victims, then for his own conscience.
The war was a year old, Solanine morbidly wondered if he should throw a hatchday party for the event. His reputation was deeper in hell than the devil himself so it wouldn’t really change anything. He changed that depressing train of thought to the only bright spot in his life, his niece Sylvia. His sister has died some time ago, he found out a week after she died, the mail came late, he’d thought he cried but all he could do was sigh. Now though, after each day at work, knowing his hands were killing hundreds if not thousands, he could come home to a little ball of sunshine that acted like a warm balm to his cold black soul. He wished it could last forever, and a week later thinking back on his last time seeing his little dragoness, he wished he’d never wished, they never turned out well.
The HiveWings had been beating them back for years, and Solanine could see their end was inevitable. It would be slow and painful. The HiveWings knew the LeafWings inside out, so they killed the forests and with them the LeafWings. He came home to silence and death, he had been a fool to believe in a haven safe from war, but it seemed fate had finally come for his family. Slyvia was dead, gassed with a poison he was familiar with. The HiveWings must’ve recreated his work, and all he could think was “At least her death was quick”. He closed Sylvia’s still open eyes and left to check the rest of the sector to confirm what he already knew to be true. They were dead. He waited for reinforcements, alone in the streets. The silence was absolute, not a chirp or rustle in the air, probably because the animals were also dead, and the thought aged him another decade, weighing down his own aged bones. He just wanted this to be over. When other LeafWings finally arrived it had been an hour, the thought rankled him, at the start of the war this wouldn’t even been a possibility in the first place, yet it was. Words were exchanged, and suspicious glances silently accused him, they were right in a way. Soon he left along with the body of his niece. He was done with war, he would fix this or die trying, Three Moons He was tired.
Three days later Solanine is declared AWOL, three days after that he was declared traitor, to be captured, and if not, killed.
Deep beneath the Earth and within the Abyss, Solanine finds dark secrets and immortality, but not the cure to death he so wished for, and Sylvia remains dead.
Solanine, now revitalized waits out the war, and with his daughter Sylvan, a dragon crafted by his hand and the dead, leaves for the fabled Distant Kingdoms. Here he would live peacefully on the island north of Possibility, becoming an urban legend of sorts.
He continues to pursue his passions for poisons and all things plant-like, and forms a small but skilled team of secret archivists dedicated to peace and knowledge.
Relationships[]
Sylvan[]
Wulven[]
Woven[]
Gallery[]
Trivia[]
- Solanine is a poison found in the nightshade family within the genus Solanum.