Key Lime Green Deireth in the Contained Recovery Egg

Egg Desc:
Lavendar lingers in long spirals and loops, and lassitude's welcomed without
lightning's rebuke. No orange jags harsh, discordant cries; blue streaks
are a memory shadowed by sky. Violence only in its absence remains, even then
not bound up in chains: swallowed, engulfed in gossamer strands, tenuous as
the silent swell of shell. Silent still, and peace, perhaps, found in
pastel: a little green, light as new leaves — and the trace of a fragile,
lily-pale dream.

Hatchling Desc:
Vivid lime-rind splashes this dragonet's hide, from the pointed wedge of
smooth-skinned head to notched triangle of limber tail. Untempered
incongruities merge long, lean limbs with her small, rounded frame: angular,
yes, but neatly designed. Darker zest curlicues along the length of her
throat and down her legs, ending in talons of deep, leafy green; citron
yellow and hoary umber limns the membranes of her narrow-sailed wings with
bright and brighter-yet shades. A certain tart whimsy infuses her rollicking
stride, accented throughout by a chaotic, coherent vibrancy.

Contained Recovery Egg quickens, hip-hop — then stops — rolls, slow,
cracks low — and altogether now, a talon cleaves shell into shards, leafy
green 'gainst lavendar.


Whimsical thought seeks your mind through the burning sand, through the
audience's stare, and drowns you in her liquid presence as the lime-green's
gaze meets your own and mind becomes mind — drowns you, not in tragedy, but
delight. And her own, inimitable voice cries out in tender triumph:
» I am Deireth! «


Name: Deireth is taken more directly from the Irish word deire, or 'the
deep', which refers to the sea. While this may seem to suit a blue better,
it also works well with her color; I, at least, always associate key limes
with oceanic keys — and hence, the water and surf. By extension, though,
Deireth also refers to the Irish legand of Deirdre — Deirdre of the
Sorrows. The whole of the story is tragic — Deirdre's horoscope at her
birth predicts that not only will she be the most beautiful woman in
Ireland, she will also bring nothing but death and ruin to the land. What
interests us, though, is not the beginning of the tale, but rather the end.
When Deirdre kills herself after being given to the man who killed her lover
Naoise, two pine trees grow from her and Naoise's graves, and intertwine so
completely that nothing can separate them. And /that/ is what makes her so
very lovely.

Mind-voice: Her voice tends to be a touch lower than the other greens,
haunting-soft and throbbing with emotion — unless it's blatantly loud like a
megaphone. Green's her mental base color, sworled with brilliant sunlit
tones in good moods, and sea-blues and -greys in melancholia, and often
there's a faint rustling undertone as of leaves.

Physically, Deireth is rounded in the body and long of limb right now. Like
a lime set on slender branches, she's as limber as new-growth; buoyant and
bubbly, with a certain amount of pizazz, she's a flamboyant
bright-bright-bright green to match her sassy personality. Those lean legs,
wings and tail will serve her well as she grows — once she grows into them,
that is, though she'll always be one of the smaller greens. While she'll
sleek out to match them, she'll always be a bit long-and-narrow-legged,
-winged and -tailed, and prone to be iiiiitchy right at the crook of her
tail. More oiling, please! Darker green curlicues, like lime zest,
decorates her throat and legs with little feathery curls — they're fanciful
curlicues, nones of that boring, stain business. And those wings: well,
they're narrow yes, and they always will be, but that doesn't stop her any.
Those wings would even be almost day-glow green — a thin leaf, held to the
sunlight — but they're speckled with lime-meat and the umber speckles that
you often see on the rind of a lime. But even if her wings are a bit too
narrow, she'll do a good job of flying, learning those air currents very
quickly, though on the ground she moves with a rollicking gait like an old
sailor brought briefly to land.

This one's a character actor with a lot of presence; Deireth's
definitely there and /aware/ at all times — and has a tendency to not only
bowl you over, but also bring you with her and bolster you up. She has the
tendency to believe that Renna is Always Right. Always. And you're perfect
too. (Just like she is!) And Deireth will argue with anyone who tries to
say otherwise, often defending you past the point when you've stopped
defending yourself. Stubborn? Only sometimes. Intent, yes. Devoted, very.
Oh, and she wants your attention All The Time… unless she's up to
something naughty. Rather like a two-year-old in some ways: you know they're
up to something when it suddenly gets /quiet/.

For the most part, though, sometimes her thoughts are a whirl of chaotic
thought: her mind will whirl this way and that, jumping between different
ideas — but then suddenly coming into lovely, clear focus. Deireth's not at
all shy, liking to talk to other dragons, share, offer her opinion in her
own blunt style. She's tart in a pleasant sort of way, what we sometimes
describe as a salty personality. Think of the kid in class who always had
an opinion on something, a bit of a smart mouth with the most interesting
oaths — but everyone liked him because that particular kid never really
said anything /bad/, not anything /mean/, just a smartmouth. She's not a
tart in the negative sense, for she's not a flirt, though there's that
tendency towards occasional … exaggeration. Overacting. Histrionics.

You'll likely find out about this tendency in force (not that it
won't appear before then, either; the first time she trips? You might think
she's dying the way she carries on) the first time she seens /snow/. Snow?
Ew! It's cold! It's messy! Yuck, ick, I hate being cold! Get it away! Let's
go to Ista. Or Southern. Or /inside/. Deireth hates the cold (Hi Akira!) and
as thus is likely to try to get you to use your weavr background to make her
.. jackets. Or use that expensive felted llama hair that was supposed to be
for /your/ leathers into a new quilt for her. Or, better yet, a jacket. She
can deal with it, she just doesn't like it, and might be inclined ti either
show you how it feels (as if you don't know?) or make a mad dash for the
nearest warm place. She's mostly stable, but /does/ tend to over-react. Yeah.

Proddiness for her is either an Is or Is Not experience; she won't show any
sort of sign to that effect until she gets that way — when she is, she is.
When she's not, well, who cares? She's not. Speaking of which, just wait
'til she /is/ proddy, and it'll be a wait for the first time — a different
scene each time, unless she decides on an encore performance. She likes
blues best, though one never knows who'll catch, and glories in the
aerobatics enhanced by proddiness.

But then, she likes aerobatics all the time to some extent, mental
or physical or emotional — lucky Renna! And you are.

Name: Talisen
Egg: Sh'lin (Ariana-tweak)
Dragon: Ariana with B'nal-tweak
Inspiration: Ariana, Arien and B'nal

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