Appearance

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Personal history

While my time on this plane has been short, I'm confident enough to say that my life is unique. I, of course, don't recall being born - one of the few things I can't remember - but I was told that I was an accident, and I can guarantee it's not in the way that you're thinking.
 
My family told me it was a summer morning when I came to be. They had just woken, and were preparing breakfast for the day, when whom was to be my eldest sister noted that the cargo seemed exceptionally noisy. There, they found me, in a very warm crate, previously covered by very warm leathers. ‘All Decorative’ they had been told. Only replicas, some hand painted, meant for displays in establishments or homes. To this day they still are unsure how I managed to get bundled into the shipment of porcelain eggs, but my egg was very much real, and thanks to my insulated ‘nest,’ very much alive. The warm heat of an early sunrise kissed my eyes as the family of five Dragonborn stared at me, dumbfounded, with theirs.
 
The Drixaathis clan knew that they couldn’t very well just leave an infant in the middle of nowhere, so with warm hearts and open minds, they took me in as their own. Havilar was the eldest, with long whiskers and equally long stories, I would come to find. He would be my grandfather. Lilorann was a bit more dull - and I don’t mean in her wits. Grandfather was a brilliant gold, Lilorann a bit more brassy. She was inspirational, and would be my eldest sister. Caligaar was a beacon of safety, and as I grew older, I came to respect his powerful and protective nature behind the dark bronze scales. He would be my eldest brother. The youngest of the group was a set of twins, golden as grandfather. Drakax and Dolin, despite them being born first, would be my youngest brothers.
 
We didn’t stay in one place long. Grandfather said that our presence would sometimes make people uneasy, and when people don’t understand something, they can lash out at it. But, we had adapted. The Drixaathis were Readers. They spent their time, watching, observing, judging. Their eyes were sharp, and it would only take an hour at most for them to determine if a town was safe enough for us to rest our eyes in. It was in how people walked, where they walked; where their eyes looked when they glanced down an alley, what they said and how they said it. But why, you may ask? Why did we need to be so cautious? Because we were different?
 
Yes.
 
But also No.
 
When I was two, Lilorann explained to me that because of who they were, and who I was coming to be - my feathers had fully developed into brilliant shades of blue and green - we were sometimes hunted and followed. With flesh similar to an exotic beast, a bandit may seem it easier to kill one of them in their sleep and sell their skin as dragon scales, than to actually dare to hunt such a powerful being. It was sick, but it was the truth of the world. 
 
The other reason was because the Drixaathis were… into a bit of espionage.
 
They worked as their own special kind of mercenary group. They didn’t fight or murder for money; they watched. They listened and they manipulated conversations. Any bit of information that could be pulled, they’d find it, and you wouldn’t even know that it had been drawn out of you.
 
I learned the trade. How to Read, and how to get what we needed. With strength coming to my wings, I was a huge asset to my family, able to Read the skies, or slip into a high building window unnoticed. It allowed us to investigate further, and thanks to my small size, remain mostly unseen.
 
And then I failed.
 
The town we were in was new, and we had only intended to pass through for food and then we’d be on our way. But, something here was odd. Everyone seemed normal. There were no levels of stress, no highly avoided areas, and everyone we Read didn’t even seem to have any negative emotions to them at all. It put all of us on edge, but I ignored my gut. I thought that maybe, for once, something had just worked out well. But, it never does.
 
We awoke during the night, but just barely, and only because Dolin’s claw tapped a little too harshly against a floor board. We tried to follow, hastily but in silence. Our ears could barely hear him, and our eyes were not the sharpest in the dark of the night. We followed until we could follow no more, exhausted, and turned around in an unfamiliar town. I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, silently weeping into Caligaar’s chest. Someone saw through our Reading, adapting so we saw exactly what they wanted us to see, and because of my mistake, the youngest members of our family were gone.
 
I swore to find them. I promised my family that I would bring both of the children back, and so the following year, I left, promising that I would deliver news as soon as I had any. I had nothing for my eyes to go off of. No voice, no face, not even the sound of a footprint. Only a smell; a faint blend of rosemary and orange that caught our noses when we returned to our room that night. It was my only clue, and even if it stayed my only one, I will keep following it until my brothers are safe again.

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