03-06-2020, 07:37 AM
<div id="beryl"><style type="text/css">.beryl_container {background: #76635E; width: 500px;border: 1px solid #F9ECD5; color: #F9ECD5; font: 14px 'Times New Roman', serif; padding: 15px;text-align: justify;box-shadow: inset 0 0 0px 0px #000;}.beryl_name {text-align: center; color: #DEDDDE; font: 26px 'Times New Roman', serif; padding-top: 10px;padding-right: 10px;}.beryl_quote {text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: #F9ECD5}</style><center><div class="beryl_container">The lion creeps in, following the mingling reptilian scents laced with ice and fire. She follows the scent of her father, and the scent of the interloper that burnt the Isle to rock, but she does not know where they are leading her. She did not hear the call, she is not ambitious enough to have been drawn here alone by a beckoning voice on the wind as the others have, and so it is that she arrives late and it seems that they have begun to answer. She has missed the question, hiding among the golden grass and grey rocks of the Mountain's base, and her curled ears flick curiously to her dragon-father as if she might discern what it was from his answer.
King in the North, he says, and she huffs softly, but then he offers to give up his daughter and her world stops. Does he have other daughters? Does he mean <I>her</I>? Fear freezes in her belly and it makes her snarl as she pulls out of her hiding places. The anger she felt when the black and red dragon attacked her home burns across her skin and she has no time to consider if there is a misunderstanding. She steps forward, rashly, sparing a moment to growl at the dark dragon that still bears her scratches on his wing, and forgets to listen to anyone else. The young lion stalks towards the painted mare, stepping away from the gathered crowd, putting space between herself and them.
"I dream of my Mother. Every night, black and white and beautiful, watching over me in the Meadow. And I dream of icy water and drowning and fear. I don't want to be scared anymore." She pauses, flicking an ear back to the frost dragon that would give away a daughter, to the others that would throw away their loved ones, trample them beneath hoof and claw. She is one of those loved ones lost to their ambitions.
"I don't want to have to depend on anyone, and I would sacrifice my innocence for it."
She'd have to, she supposes.
<div class="beryl_name">Beryl</div><div class="beryl_quote">Litotes x Mehendi</div></div></center>
Beryl is playing as a free agent cuz she's mad at Leilan
King in the North, he says, and she huffs softly, but then he offers to give up his daughter and her world stops. Does he have other daughters? Does he mean <I>her</I>? Fear freezes in her belly and it makes her snarl as she pulls out of her hiding places. The anger she felt when the black and red dragon attacked her home burns across her skin and she has no time to consider if there is a misunderstanding. She steps forward, rashly, sparing a moment to growl at the dark dragon that still bears her scratches on his wing, and forgets to listen to anyone else. The young lion stalks towards the painted mare, stepping away from the gathered crowd, putting space between herself and them.
"I dream of my Mother. Every night, black and white and beautiful, watching over me in the Meadow. And I dream of icy water and drowning and fear. I don't want to be scared anymore." She pauses, flicking an ear back to the frost dragon that would give away a daughter, to the others that would throw away their loved ones, trample them beneath hoof and claw. She is one of those loved ones lost to their ambitions.
"I don't want to have to depend on anyone, and I would sacrifice my innocence for it."
She'd have to, she supposes.
<div class="beryl_name">Beryl</div><div class="beryl_quote">Litotes x Mehendi</div></div></center>
Beryl is playing as a free agent cuz she's mad at Leilan