Midsummer Eve Forest Green Dragonet in Blown Glass Egg

Blown Glass Egg (desced by Zephre)

spirals around the smooth and scintillating curves of the egg.
Translucent, it glows as light strikes the surface, visions of delicate
violet and burgundy lacework leaping to the eye in a moment of wonder.
Where the arms of the brilliant galaxy embrace, another nugget of color,
this one crimson, blossoms in a spiderweb nest of silver.

We always did imagine there was a mystical little lady inside this egg,
with all its light and lovely colors. We're glad it fits you and Ilaria so
well, too!

Hatching Message:

[hatching msg here]

Dragonet desc:

Such sylvan colors, her greens and golds and browns, as if she were bound
to the woodlands and not to the skies. From the roots of her walnut talons
to the canopy of her sycamore wings, she is forest and dragon in one; ochre
light dapples the trunk of her neck, and pale sepia softens the thorny vine
of ridges creeping down her back. Freckly suggestions of wild violet on her
flanks set off the purple shadow touching every eyelid; the tip of her
otherwise mossy tail gleams warm and mellow as moonlight.

Impression message:

…No kiss will ever be as sweet as this warm welcome: are those your toes
curling, or her talons? Sparks of all-colored light leap from the dark,
shadowy forest of your new mate's mind to your own, dashing through the
syllables, the taste, the feel of your name and hers. She needn't tell you
what you can suddenly feel: Seelinth, Seelinth, Seelinth.

Name explanation:

Seelinth, after the Seelie, the good-spirited faeries of British folklore,
because you're so fae at heart. Our vision of Seelinth is part Titania,
part Jolly Green Giant.

Dragonet Name: Midsummer Eve Forest Green Hatchling

We chose Edward Robert Hughes' painting "Midsummer Eve" as the visual
inspiration for Seelinth. The greens, golds, and browns in that painting
are all your dragon's, while the all-colored light of the faeries dancing
at the maiden's feet (she's *so* Ilaria, don't you think? Just give her
darker hair and barked shins) serve as the imagery for her mental touch.
The thorny vine is an in-joke, of course, one we hoped would bring a touch
of whimsy and personal humor to your new dragon. (For those of you reading
along, Gr'ym and Adia's players got to meet Ilaria's player during the week
before the hatching and gave her a bit of a crash course in gardening and
lawn maintenance at her new home with its great big yard. Gr'ym's player
proceeded to help Ilaria's player identify azaleas, dandelions, holly, wild
strawberries, poison ivy, dead trees, and.. uh.. what's this called? Thorn
Vine. Yep. And there was a lot of Thorn Vine, let me tell you.) We hope
that Adia's player hollering "What do you need the Ars Magica source book
on Faeries for?" didn't give away too much. She's been hoping to get an Ars
Magica game started for months. No such luck yet — it was all for you.

As for Seelinth herself, she'll start out on the small side — you might
even say she was scrawny, and her metabolism will run faster than you can
hide whatever mess you two might have created from a Weyrlingmaster's
scrutinizing eye. Seelinth will be eager to fill her own two stomachs if
not yours as well. She loves food — beef, especially — and if she could
tolerate wearing a bumper sticker on her bottom (perish the thought), it
would say Eat Early and Often, or maybe Honk if You Love Herdbeast, or
Beef: It's What's For Dinner. Wherry will do for a snack, and she'll be
fond of fish once she discovers as much, but neither will satisfy her the
way red meat does.
Forget firestone, though. She will only chew that putrid, nasty,
sulfurous, stinky stuff if she absolutely, positively *has* to, and she
must have privacy when it comes time to regurgitate the leftovers. How
revolting it all is.
Habits learned young are hardest to shake off, though, and you may find
your skinny little green baby busting out in curves someday. In fact, we
see her as becoming downright zaftig. She won't be a zippity little aerial
stunt flyer; she won't turn on an eighth-mark like some greens can (who
leaves money up in the clouds, anyway?), but she will enjoy long steady
sprints in the sky, if you two learn to pace yourselves. What she'll love
more, though, is prowling the ground. Whenever you sweep a new location,
she'll be eager to land and test the terrain; maybe she'd like to meet the
local folk, too. She will adore trees, bound to woodsy areas as fast as any
sylvan faerie. Any forest she can fit in, she'd love to explore, as long as
the brambles and underbrush don't threaten her pampered complexion.
She loves bath salts — too bad you oughtn't fill the lakes with them —
and scented oils, preferring refreshing herbal sorts to the overwhelmingly
floral or spicy kind. You don't have to tell her to keep tidy: no, she will
insist that *you* help keep her clean, and she may enlist fairs of
firelizards and other helpful friends to her hygienic aid. What she really
loves, though, are manicures: keep a brush on hand to buff those walnut
talons to a gleaming lustre.
Unfortunately, once she grows — and grows and grows — she'll miss the
tiny thing you'll remember she'd been, and she might envy the willowier
members of her species to the point of becoming catty. They're just jealous
not to be as well-endowed as she, right? She's prettier than they are,
right? But don't you dare tell her "There's just more of you to love," or
you'll be sleeping out on the ledge.
When her mood is good, she's great, but when things go sour, she's quiet.
Very quiet. Your head will echo like the library the day after finals are
done. If she wrote the book on the Silent Treatment, she'd never tell you
as much. She'll come around, though — she forgets so easily, even if she's
too proud to forgive very often.
When she's proddy, she doesn't snip, she isn't mean. Rather, she'll relish
the attention. And the food. She might just get a couple chomps in when she
bloods, no matter how vehemently you insist that she merely drink, and if
she winds up with a little bellyache after a relatively short flight,
that's all right. She'll be satisfied. She'll tend to linger with her
mates, too, for days and days after she's caught, but beware the way she
may plague some for reassurances. She'll be clingy. Unless, of course, her
mate does something unsavory, or smells like firestone. Yuck.
She'll love your eye for detail, to see things the way you see, to listen
to your music; she'll lie with you in the grass, help you sing the sunset
down, and enjoy the company of your friends and family. Watch out, though,
should you decide to start a family yourself: she'll be tossed into a storm
of conflicting emotions, with jealousy ultimately winning out over your
shared joy. You're hers, and she's yours.
Enjoy her!

Recommended listening: "Big Boned Gal" by k.d. lang
Recommended reading: [what?]

Credits: Fiona, Gr'ym

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